Deft Beck

Spatial Delivery

Chapter 4

March 18th, 2011

Rated T for:

Mild Language

Deft Beck: Author

...pressing a bit too hard there, buddy.

It's been thirty seconds and he hasn't done anything. Dramatic tension lost.

"Hello, anybody in there?" I ask, waving my right hand in front of his eyes, still glowing ruby-red. With no response, I slink around his metallic exterior, draped with a draping colored trench coat, which I'm not touching for fear of setting him off.

He's not as tall as before. Maybe he's got telescoping legs, going' up and down? Guy's an enigma. Never seen anything like it.

All of a sudden, I hear a booming, low-baud voice:


He wheels to the left of me, and then zooms straight ahead, probably to where the android was attacked. I'm still kinda shaken up from all of this, but I want to know what's going on, so I dash over there, wind blowing into my reddened face.

I get there and stop to catch my breath, while Redeyes is standing off near a lamppost, scanning the scene. It's a surprisingly sparse crime scene, at least from the first glance.

The swinging door to the Laundromat is closed, with a sign above glowing the same words, but in deep red. Was the place open when Subway made his move?

Right near the door is the 'dead' body of the android; looks like a rag doll, all spread out on the old concrete sidewalk. It was covered with clear plastic, failing to conceal a face made up of a flexible screen, currently blank, not too similar to my expression as I leer overhead. It had hands similar to those that I saw on Subway, but the wires seemed to be-

"INITIAL ANALYSIS COMPLETE," boomed the robot. It started to lurch forward; I tried not to move, but it saw me and whirred right in front of me, making a sudden stop that blew his trench coat out towards the sides.

"INTERROGATING COMMENCING. STATE YOUR NAME." it shouted in monotone, its eyes glowing brighter with the volume of its voice.

"Theodore S-Semper," I stuttered. Guy knew how to make an impression.

"ACCEPTED. STATE YOUR POSITION AS OF THE PAST HOUR," it crackled as it continued to stay put and shout at me. Geez, its voice box sucks, murder on my ears. I tried to move back a bit, but I flinched and coughed deeply before responding, trying to clear my head as I wiped the sweat off my curly brow.

"Well, I was at home, b-"


Agh, again with the ears. Clearing out my right ear with my right finger, shaking all the while, I walked backwards, towards the wall, where I was cornered by the thing. Tall bastard.

"I-I was at home!" I managed to get out, looking from side to side, rapidly.

"WHAT WAS YOUR BUSINESS ON LAGAR STREET?" it mispronounced, pressing me up against the wall. Don't want this guy to take me around town, might get me killed, or at least make me deaf.

On an impulse, I sprinted directly to my left, turning and hauling ass into-

Wall. Agh, my fucking head. Note to self: Petition the city council to unblock the alleyways. Yeah, it gets some of the laborobs' confused, but my safety is more of a priority than some shitbot's lack of programming! The damn GOPS system is useless, I swear.

Fuck, the guy's right back on my ass. I didn't even hear it whir over. Could have judged that by all the dust it's kicking up. Life, liberty and the pursuit of harassment, eh?


"My WIFE wasn't HOME!" I yelled at it. "She left TWELVE HOURS AGO and SHE STILL ISN'T HOME!!"

I tried to catch my breath as the robot stood there for a minute. How old is this guy? Normally, it would take only-

"ALIBI ESTABLISHED. CONCLUSION: MUST INTERVIEW WIFE." It turned around and started to whir toward the body before stopping and flipping his head around. Neat trick.

"YOU ARE NOW IN POLICE CUSTODY UNTIL THE RESOLUTION OR CESSATION OF THE CURRENT PROCEEDINGS," it concluded, before snapping forward again and charging straight down the sidewalk.

Apparently, it was my turn to play interrogator, and boy did I have some questions for this nut job.

"Who are you?" I asked in his direction, as he sped down the street, I trying to follow behind, not really succeeding. Gotta hit the g- COUGH HACK h-HACK, I wheezed, slowing to a stop.

Even from the start of the crosswalk leading onto Auger Avenue, I could hear his response.

"AGENT NEWCASTLE, MUNICIPAL INVESTIGATOR," he boomed, not looking behind. Before I could reach him, he went out across the str-