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“What,” said Reed, “is in the box?”

“The rain,” said Bernie.
 
“The rain’s in the box.”

“I love it when you bring me presents,” said Sasha.
 
She was standing on the opposite side of the metal table from Mason, leaning over the Reed body.

“Yeah,” said Mason.
 
He lifted up the Reed body’s arm, letting it fall back against the table.
 
The knuckles were scraped and bloody.
 
It’s not like it’s easy to carry a dead guy on a bike.
 
Sue me
.
 
“It’s not really for you.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she said.
 
“I’ve taken off my wedding ring and everything.”
 
Her tone was playful, but the lab was professional, clean —
pristine
.
 
That’s the word, thought Mason.
 
Not a tool out of place.
 
He didn’t expect anything else — it’s why he always went to Sasha first.

Carter’s voice came through the room’s sound system.
 
“If you guys have finished..?”

Sasha looked up at the wall.
 
“Why don’t you come down, Carter?
 
This will be fun.”

“I don’t do field work.”

“This isn’t field work,” said Sasha.
 
“This is my lab.”

“It’s your lab,” said Carter, “which is out in the field for me.
 
You’re about to cut open a dead guy.
 
Me?
 
Computers.
 
I do computers.”

Sasha winked at Mason.
 
“She’s going to miss out on the orgy later.”

Mason threw her a smile.
 
“I’m not sure if ‘miss’ is the right word.
 
She’s been cranky since she lost a fight with a hacker earlier today.”

“What?” said Carter.
 
“I didn’t lose a fight.
 
The guy died.”

Mason nodded.
 
“Sure.
 
He died.
 
I also went blind.
 
Way to have my back.”

“You’ve got no sense of the dramatic,” said Carter.
 
“Coburn?”

“Yes, Carter?”
 
Sasha was putting on a medical visor, the clear perspex covering her face.
 
“Changed your mind?”

“No, I just want you to cut Mason first.”

Sasha grinned, picking up a small rotary saw.
 
She clicked the saw’s switch a couple of times, the machine whining.
 
“So.
 
Anything you want to tell me about this guy before I do the autopsy?”

Mason walked around the medical slab, pushing a monitor out of the way.
 
He looked down at the Reed body, looking at the expensive suit.
 
“He…
 
He was wearing these.”
 
He pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket.

“I’m not sure if that’s quite…
 
Hm.”
 
Sasha held the saw out to one side, cocking her hip.
 
She tapped her jaw with a finger.
 
“Wearing them inside?”

“Sure.
 
Inside.”
 
Mason tossed the glasses into one of the trays beside the slab.
 
“Seemed otherwise fine.”

Sasha leaned over the body.
 
“Well, we’ll have to take the suit off first.
 
Fibers will clog the saw, you know how it is.”
 
She looked up at Mason, and winked.
 
“We can see if he’s in as good condition as you.”

“Oh, please,” said Carter.
 
“I’m going to be sick.”

“He’s a dead guy,” said Mason.
 
“I—”

“Stop being so squeamish,” said Sasha.
 
“I get so lonely in here.”

Carter was making gagging sounds over the sound system.
 
Mason laughed, then started helping Sasha take off the Reed body’s clothes.

“Here,” said Sasha.
 
“Help me roll him over.
 
He’s heavy.”

“Yeah,” said Mason.
 
“I had to carry him down some stairs.
 
I know he’s heavy.
 
It’s why it’s called dead weight.”

She frowned at him, then tapped a display set into the slab.
 
“Says he’s 137.
 
He doesn’t look fat.”

“No,” said Mason.
 
“He works for a syndicate.
 
He can afford not to be.”

“I don’t think you’re telling me everything I need to know,” said Sasha.

“Maybe not,” said Mason, “but there’s not much more to tell.
 
Had a beer.
 
Got in a fight.
 
Turned out he was a robot that bleeds.”
 
He started to go through the jacket the Reed man had been wearing.
 
Spare weapon.
 
Energy packs for it.
 
A packet of cigarettes.

“You were going to let me take a saw.
 
To a robot.
 
With a probably-still-live power core.”
 
Sasha reached over for them.
 
“You mind?”

“You always tell me there’s no smoking in here.”

“I’m not going to smoke,” she said, tapping a cigarette out of the packet.
 
“They look normal.”

“They’re cigarettes,” said Mason, taking one out.
 
He put it to his mouth.

“There’s no smoking in here,” said Sasha.

Mason looked over the top of his lighter at her, then lit the cigarette.
 
He took a deep pull.
 
“Well, that’s a piece of shit,” he said.

“Why?
 
Is it a cigarette?”

Mason took another pull.
 
“Oh, sure.
 
It’s a cigarette.
 
The man has no taste though.
 
Seriously?
 
They’re Camels.”
 
He stubbed it out on one of the trays next to the bed, pulling a pack of Treasurers from his pocket.

“There’s no—” said Sasha, then stopped at the click and snap of Mason’s lighter.
 
“I don’t know why I bother.”

“Me neither,” said Mason, blowing smoke into an air vent in the ceiling.
 
“It’s like you’ve just met me or something.”

“My lab is going to smell like a bar for a week.”

“You’ll still need someone to throw up in here for that,” said Mason.

Sasha looked down at the Reed body, now naked on the slab.

“Looks… complete,” said Carter.

“My,” said Sasha.
 
She started to lift the arms up, then moved the legs.
 
“Can you flip him for me?”

“Sure,” said Mason.
 
He turned the body.

“What’s that?” said Carter.
 
She highlighted something stitched vertically up the base of the body’s spine, the red boxing flicking in on Mason’s overlay.

Mason leaned forward, tapping the skin there.
 
“Good eyes, Carter.
 
Looks like—”

“It’s a serial number,” said Sasha.
 
“He
is
a robot.”

Mason pointed at the hole on the back of the body.
 
“A lot of blood came out of there.
 
If he’s a robot, he’s not the usual kind.”

“Yes,” said Sasha, her voice dropping all hint of play.
 
“He’s surprisingly detailed.
 
If we didn’t have the evidence, I don’t think you’d be able to tell.”
 
She walked around the slab.
 
“Where did you say you found him?”

“Bar,” said Mason.
 
“We had a beer.”

“He drank beer?”

“Yeah,” said Mason.

“Robots don’t drink,” she said.

“Might not be a robot,” said Mason.
 
“That’s why he’s here.
 
If it was an easy problem, Carter could have—”

“Fuck off,” said Carter.

“I only meant—”

“Sometimes you should just stop talking,” said Sasha.
 
“You don’t understand women at all.”

“He rents women,” said Carter.
 
“So he doesn’t have to understand them.”

“Did it just get colder in here?” said Mason.
 
“It feels colder.”
 
He stubbed out the Treasurer against the slab, flakes of silver and ash falling to the ground.
 
“So.
 
Doc.
 
You going to work out how it works?”

Sasha leaned back, looking at the body, then nodded.
 
“Yeah.
 
Yeah, I really think we need to.
 
Carter?”

“Yes, Sasha?”

“Can you,” said Sasha, wiggling her fingers in the air, “do you your thing?”

“Hack the robot?”

“Sure.
 
Hack the robot.”

“If you turn it on, I can hack it,” said Carter.

“It’s not on?”

“Does it look on?”

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Mason.
 
“I need to speak to Harry.”
 
He pulled another Treasurer from the pack, flicking the lighter on as he left the lab.

⚔ ⚛ ⚔

“No,” said Harry, swiveling in place.
 
Cables stretched from the back of his chassis into a panel set in the wall.
 
The hangar was noisy, the thick smell of oil and metal in the air.
 
Something burst into flames a few bays down, sparks and fluid spraying into the air.

“It’ll be fun,” said Mason, turning away from the dying machine and back to Harry.

“That doesn’t sound likely, does it,” said Harry.
 
“The last time—”

Mason held up a hand.
 
When he spoke, his voice was softer, almost lost against the noise of the service bay around them.
 
“I remember, Harry.”

Harry leaned forward, servos whining.
 
A metal hand, bigger than Mason’s chest, pressed against the workbench between them.
 
“Do you?”

“Yeah,” said Mason.
 
He flexed his hand, the motion only barely conscious.
 
He looked at it, then back up at Harry.
 
“I’d really rather it was you out there.”

“Why do you think you need me there?”
 
Harry straightened, the cables coming from his back slapping and clacking together.
 
“You Specialist Services guys—”

“You used to be Specialist Services.”

“Yeah,” said Harry.
 
“Before this.”
 
The huge hand gestured down at his metal chassis.

“It’s a good look,” said Mason.
 
“Black goes with anything.
 
Tactical.”

There was a pause, then Harry laughed.
 
“All right, Floyd.
 
Tell me what you think is going down.
 
Why you need me.”

“Sure,” said Mason, leaning against a bench.
 
A harried tech walked between them, head down, muttering to himself.
 
Mason looked after him.
 
“Problem?”

“No problem,” said Harry.
 
“That guy always talks to himself.”

“Psych?”

“Psych doesn’t come down here much.
 
We need these guys too much.”

Mason pulled out a cigarette, looking at the silver filter before lighting it.
 
“The problem, see,” he said, blowing smoke up at the ceiling high above them, “is that I’m going to be grossly outnumbered.”

“I kinda figured,” said Harry.

The tech walked back between them, then looked at Mason.
 
“There’s no smoking in here.”

Mason nodded at him, pulling the packet from his pocket and offering them to the man.
 
The tech looked around, nervous as a bird, before his hand stabbed out to grab one.
 
He took the offered light, walking away and drawing on the cigarette.

“I don’t know how you get away with shit like that,” said Harry.

“Don’t listen to what he said.
 
Listen to what he wants,” said Mason.

“Did you…
 
Did you read a book on Zen?”

“I sometimes watch cartoons when I can’t sleep,” said Mason.
 
“So, here’s the thing.
 
Carter’s tracked down a set of coincidences.”

“Like?”

“We found some evidence, with the name
Eckers
written in it.
 
Didn’t know it was a name at the time, though,” said Mason.

“You know now?”

“More like an educated guess,” said Mason.
 
“She…
 
Well, our suspect was having a meeting with someone.
 
Her calendar was wiped.”

“How do you know she was having a meeting?”

“Carter’s very clever,” said Mason.
 
“She tells me so all the time.”

Harry barked a laugh.
 
“Yeah, my handler’s the same.”

“I’m right here,” said Carter.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping Doc Coburn?” Mason said to her over the uplink.

“I can do two things at once,” said Carter.

“You too?” said Harry.

“Yeah,” said Mason.
 
“She’s right here.”

“Same, same,” said Harry.
 
He cocked his head as if listening to something, then he sighed.
 
“I don’t know why they hire the angry ones.
 
This meeting.
 
When is it?”

“Was,” said Mason.
 
“It’s already happened.
 
Her calendar said she was meeting with, ah, Bernard Eckers.”

“Fixer?”

“Amongst other things.”