The Murder of Elrod Jameson

They returned to the area near where Twilight’s office was located. The district itself was large and extended many sublevels downward and upward around the Route Eight Bridge. In this particular instance, she had not brought Elrod back to her office but rather to a manufacturing suite located nearby.

It was not like the small factories that almost all people owned or that could be found on nearly every street corner. This one was larger with more advanced equipment. Its clients seemed to largely be either wealthy individuals or minor companies.

The inside consisted of several floors that had originally been cast out of single pieces of concrete and later subdivided to form the suites. These were all evenly spaced on either side of the main corridors, with glass windows showing the machinery working on the other side. Each room was soundproofed, but it was still possible to hear the low rumble of massive machines working endlessly at incredible speeds.

They were making various things. From what Elrod could see, a lot of it was metal fabrication to form various parts and mechanisms whose purposes he could not even begin to imagine. Several of the suites were producing textiles, either as full cloth or as entire garments. In one area a small domestic drone was being built. By far the most popular though were guns: they were being printed at such a pace that each one looked like a blur of forged metal and plastic.

“Is this…a shortcut?”

“No. I have business here.”

Elrod looked at Twilight, who was walking in front of him. She had temporarily patched the plasma burn in her rear, but her coat was still missing one sleeve and the rear of it was burned. Her hat was missing as well; it had apparently been knocked off. Without looking backward, though, she addressed Elrod. “Are you injured?”

“Injured? I don’t think so.”

“I heard shots when I was approaching. They stopped before I reached you.”

“Oh. Yes. Those. She missed.”

Twilight stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Five hundred .25 rounds on full automatic? They ‘missed’?”

“Do you see any bullet holes?”

“As a matter of fact I do. On your vest.”

Elrod looked down. He had gotten his coat back, but the vest was still exposed in the front. “Oh. I guess a few hit.”

“A few?”

“She was a bad shot!” Elrod shrugged. “You said yourself, the drugs make technomancers bad at shooting.”

Twilight turned away, but seemed to take that as an answer. They walked in silence down the pathway between the seemingly endless array of universal factories and their various products, listening only to the muffled sounds of the robotic arms and the distant crack of welding or stamping.

“So,” said Elrod at last. “Um, Twilight, where are we?”

“Where does it look like we are? This is a factory.”

“I don’t mean it like that. I mean where is the case.”

Twilight paused for a long moment. “I’m not sure. Not yet.”

“Well I’m regretting it. I regret ever having come to you.”

“Because you almost died?”

“No, I don’t care about that. If I had a nickel for every time I’d almost died I’d have at least twelve dollars by now. That’s just part of modern life. No. For all the trouble I caused. You got shot- -”

“Granted, that does happen a lot to me.”

“- -and Forth. Poor Forth…I mean, if I knew that would happen to her, I never would have…I’m just sorry. I’m really sorry. I feel really bad.”

Twilight stopped in front of one of the manufacturing suites. It was in the process of assembling something exceedingly complicated. Numerous assemblies were being placed together and assembled, and several arms were waiting with pieces of shiny metal plating until the assembly was complete. Some sort of spooler arm was also going to work. Elrod did not pay too much attention, but took note of the extreme speed at which they were working.

Suddenly he felt a shove against his knees as he was pushed back. He looked down and Twilight- -who had pushed him- -looked up. She pointed toward a yellow square on the floor. “Stay out of the loading zone.”

“But- -”

Almost as if on cue, the machinery suddenly shifted. The front glass of the factory separated and parted and the machinery inside lurched forward on a set of rails. A whirring sound filled the air as a large robotic arm lowered what they had been building into the square, an action that surely would have crushed or impaled Elrod.

He stared at the assembly in confusion. A moment ago it had seemed to be nothing more than armor plating, robotics, and a seemingly endless array of firearms parts, but now standing there supported by the machine was a white Pegasus pony with garish pink and green hair.

For a moment her eyes- -they were open, as they had no lids- -were flat and gray. Then they darkened to blue, and the robotic arm that supported the pony allowed her to take her own weight. She did so without swaying or hesitation.

“Resynchronization complete,” she said. “Diagnostics indicate all systems are lubricated and prepared for operation.” She turned her head toward Twilight. “Hello, Ms. Twilight.”

Elrod dropped to his knees and put his hands on the pony’s shoulders. “F…Forth?”

Twilight immediately swatted his hands away. “Don’t touch her without asking, you pervert!”

“It is alright. I am soft and very warm. I would touch me too. I do touch me sometimes. But yes. I am Forth. Hello, Mr. Jameson.” Her eyes shifted under their freshly manufactured diamond lenses to look up at him. She smiled.

“But- -but- -I saw you die!”

Forth looked confused. “I am not dead, though.”

“You idiot,” said Twilight, putting her hoof against her face. “You actually thought she died?

“But her body- -oh hell, don’t laugh at me for this, I know what I’m talking about! Even a pony can’t survive something like that! Forth, how the heck are you still here?!”

“I was manufactured by the RedHorse division of Hi-Point Firearms. I come with a lifetime warranty.”

“But that doesn’t answer the question! Your processor- -your brain, whatever it is, that was GONE- -”

Forth smiled, seeming to understand. “While my body does contain a processor and memory system capable of sustaining me, its long-term use is not optimal. I run in a master-slave functionality under Ms. Twilight, using a parsed section of her processing infrastructure.”

Elrod turned to Twilight. He was more confused than he had been in some time, and he was confused quite often.

Twilight sighed. “It means that her program runs inside my body with me. Her body is remotely linked.”

“But…”

“We’re ponies. Our brain doesn’t have to be in our body.”

“Though you are correct,” said Forth. “If my mind is in my body when my body is destroyed, I would die.”

“And hopefully you would have been more careful,” said Twilight, opening a drawer on the manufacturing suite and pulling out several folded garments that had been freshly loomed. She passed one set to Forth. “And for the record, next time you’re going to fight, take your clothes off first. I have a warranty on you, but not on your clothes or ammo. These cost money.”

“Clothes?” Forth looked down at herself. “Oh. I am nude. How embarrassing.”

She did not sound embarrassed. Elrod was not even sure why ponies wore clothing; Forth especially, considering she had no genitals or breasts.

Forth pulled on what Elrod assumed to be an undergarment. It was a tight, form-fitting shirt. She then put the other garments on her wings, intending to carry them until she got a chance to change. This was even more bewildering to Elrod, as she was still not wearing pants.

Twilight also took from the stack and changed out her coat. A hat was also included in the pile and she placed it on her head as well.

“Damn it,” she muttered. “Hats never fit right when they’re reconstructed.”

“It is the same format for hats that we always use,” said Forth.

“I know, but they never really fit right. I liked that hat. It was a good hat.”

They started walking, but Elrod stayed close to Forth.

“I thought you died,” he said. “I was sad.”

“Oh. My apologies. You were sad?”

“Yes. I mean…I only came here because I watched a pony get killed, so seeing you…”

“I apologize for causing you any discomfort.”

Elrod looked back at the machine. It had gone on to making something else that appeared to be made from a number of complex electronic parts. “This is new to me. I didn’t know ponies could do that.”

“It is very uncommon. Virtually all ponies prefer their mind to be in their body.”

“And you don’t?”

“I do not mind, no.”

“And rebuilding you? That’s just automatic?”

“Yes. If my body is damaged, new parts are provided. Or a whole new one made. That is part of my warranty.”

“And how much does that cost?”

“Nothing to Ms. Twilight. However the Hi-Point corporation does have to pay. The real cost is about one hundred twenty-six vod.”

Elrod’s eyes widened. “That’s not a lot. Including materials?”

“My body is made mostly out of zinc alloy.”

“We live in a post-scarcity economy,” said Twilight, who was walking in front of them. “You’re a scrapper. You know the exchange rates. How much did that arm you got down in C get you?”

“One and a half vod.”

“And it would have cost less to make a new one. Goods only cost as much as the elements they’re made out of.”

“And my elements are inexpensive,” said Forth, as though she were bragging. “Hence why the warranty is possible.”

“So you mean just anyone could make you?”

Forth looked up at Elrod. “No. I am a unique individual. Or so Ms. Twilight tells me. I am the only me. If you mean my body, yes. If a person had a schematic they could make it for exactly one hundred twenty-six vod, plus shipping and handling if necessary.”

“But all those guns…”

“Yes. All of them.”

“But then why aren’t there hundreds of you on the street? I mean, that level of firepower- -that’s not normal. That was terrifying, really. Why doesn’t everyone have one of you?”

“They do not need them, I suppose. That, and only my body can be manufactured with a standard class-three suite. My mind cannot be. As a pony, production of a viable mind requires a Genesis Program.”

“But why not just automate it?”

“Like a drone, you mean. It is not possible. Only a pony AI can operate the body to the level required for effective combat. It is too complex otherwise.”

“Combat?”

Twilight looked over her shoulder. “Really? I’m surprised you don’t recognize her.”

“Recognize her?” Twilight looked at Forth again, and then at Twilight. “Why?”

“Because you’re from Idaho, right?”

“I am, but- -”

“She’s a Blossomforth. You know, from the War?” Elrod blinked, confused. Twilight nodded to Forth, and Forth smiled broadly.

“My subseries was originally intended for use pacifying the Middle West,” she said. “I was created for the express purpose of purging the bloodline of infidels in the name of the United States government.”

“Bloodline…?”

Forth nodded. “It was determined that certain hereditary genetic markers are responsible for unorthodoxy. Eliminating infidels is an effective combat strategy, but not in the long run. Therefore, adjustments had to be made to allow for their bloodlines to be ended.”

“But…what you’re describing is genocide.”

“Yes. There is no other known way to fight a war effectively. Infidels and their associated genetics must be terminated to restore order and justice to the resultant wasteland.”

“If it makes you feel any better, she’s just relaying her programming. She was never actually in the war.” Twilight produced a cigarette, despite the numerous no-smoking signs that surrounded her. “I picked her up as military surplus about a year and a half ago. Worth every penny.”

“Wait…I thought master-slave was just a computer saying.”

“No,” said Forth. “Ms. Twilight literally owns me.”

“But…is that even legal?”

“Slavery is perfectly legal,” said Twilight. “No reason why it wouldn’t be. I could even buy a human if they weren’t so disgusting.”

“I would not mind a human,” said Forth. “I like pets.”

“But- -”

Forth cut him off. “This state is not involuntary. It is how I am designed. Our legions were meant to enter the battlefield and die only to be reborn again, our minds residing in the body of a single powerful technomage. It is how I am meant to be.”

“You can think of her like a symbiotic,” said Twilight. “If that helps.”

“It really doesn’t. It just doesn’t…this is all so confusing…”

About two hours passed and Twilight found herself once again in her office, sitting at her desk. The desk itself was mostly empty, save for an ashtray overburdened with cigarette butts. Rather than taking it out, though, Twilight was continuing to smoke yet another. Logically, there was no reason why they should have calmed her: nicotine had no effect on a machine, nor did the trace amounts of phencyclidine that most brands contained. Nor could Twilight actually taste them. The spectrometer in her front head could detect and identify every compound present, but she knew that was not the way organics experienced it. She wondered every time what exactly they were supposed to taste like.

Her cigarette ran out, and she pushed her face into the ashtray to put it with the rest. Her nose brushed against the others and their stale smell wafted into her nostrils. She could not really smell it, but she knew it was a sensation that she did not like.

Twilight moved to reach for another, but stopped. They were not helping anymore. Instead, she just sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the building’s inadequate ventilation and the vibrations of unseen others moving throughout the floors, going about their own tasks. In this state, she continued to think.

The door to her office opened. Twilight did not need to open her eyes to see Forth- -now fully dressed in her pressed blouse and skirt- -enter with a small and dented tray.

“Ms. Twilight, I have coffee.”

Twilight opened her eyes. “Thanks, Forth. I kind of wish you had brought scotch, though.”

“I also brought that.” Forth moved aside several books from Twilight’s desk and placed down the tray. It held a small thermal pot of coffee, a mug, a shot glass, and a bottle of the cheapest possible scotch. That was one thing that Twilight had quickly learned: there was no point in wasting money on good liquor. The cheap stuff did the same job as the expensive kind, or even better.

Twilight popped open the scotch with her teeth and poured some into the glass. She took one swig before refilling it and taking another while Forth filled the coffee. When both of them were finished, Twilight took a sip from the cup and sat back in her chair.

“Where is Mr. Jameson?” asked Forth.

“I sent him to Stop and Shop for some more ammunition. Anything you had left got blown to bits with your last body.”

“There was little left. That is why I charged. But I do apologize. I will ensure that the forms are filled out to make sure our ammunition is tax-deductible.” Forth paused. “Is it safe to send him alone?”

“I don’t care. If he dies, it solves all our problems. For all I care he could try to fish in the Farmill. Knowing him he probably would.” Twilight sighed and took another sip of coffee.

Forth stared for a moment. “You look sad,” she said.

“I’m not sad. Just thinking.”

“Regardless: I expected you to be happy.”

“Happy? Why?”

“Because from my understanding the case can be closed now.”

Twilight looked up at the ceiling. “No. I don’t think it can.”

Forth tilted her head, looking confused. It was surprising how much she looked like Twilight physically and yet appeared so different otherwise. “I was dormant at the time, but I have reviewed the notes you provided. All indications suggest that the technomancer was responsible for the attempt on Mr. Jameson’s life.”

“Except they don’t. That’s the problem. We’re at a dead end again.”

“I don’t understand.”

Twilight swiveled and looked to Forth. She could have motioned for Forth to take a seat, but she knew that Forth would refuse. “That’s the thing,” she said. “The attempt in the elevator, that was her. Amanda. She’s the one that hacked the drone and that Fluttershy and then tried to cover everything up. But that doesn’t explain the rest. It only makes it more confusing.”

“I think it does. The technomancer was attempting to fill a bounty. It is reasonable to assume that others are attempting to do so as well. Or the organizations involved are trying to do it themselves.”

“No, I don’t think so. A bounty hunter or agro-terrorist organization can’t afford OKD bullets.”

“No, but Monstanto can.”

“Sure. And they went through a secret shell-broker to find assassins only to send their own troops using their most expensive and difficult to acquire ammunition.”

“I cannot tell if that is sarcasm.”

“It is. The Board of Directors was moving in secret, possibly without company approval. They wouldn’t risk sending out their own ammo or weapons.”

“That does not exclude a third party.”

“I know. But that’s the problem. You saw what happened on Level C.”

“I did, from my perspective. I did not see what you saw after you separated from me and Mr. Jameson.”

“That part doesn’t matter.” Twilight through back to her pursuit of the strange machine, and knew that she was not being entirely truthful. That factor was important, but did not weigh in her current line of reasoning. “But that human woman. You saw what they did. One shot, straight through the head. If they wanted Jameson dead, why bother with the hooker? They could have taken him out right then and there.”

Forth paused. “Perhaps there was not a good angle?”

“The angle was fine. Do you know what I think?”

“No.”

“I think they never intended to shoot. They used the hooker as a proxy. The idea was to have her take down Jameson. They didn’t expect me to take control of the situation. When I did and she started to talk, they pulled their backup.”

“But why?”

“I can only reason that they didn’t want to show themselves. Why, I don’t know. It’s like they wanted us to watch Jameson get shot, but not to know that they were the ones that orchestrated the hit.”

“Which is not unreasonable for a criminal organization.”

“But we’re not talking about criminals. We’re talking about assassins. Assassins who took out their patsy but not their target, even when they had a chance.” Twilight leaned back and this time did light a cigarette. She puffed on it in silence for a moment as Forth waited patiently. “And that still doesn’t explain the first attack. The one in the alley.”

“We have no records of what actually happened,” noted Forth. “In that sense we are relying entirely on Mr. Jameson’s testimony. Do you think he is lying?”

Twilight paused for a long moment. “I don’t know, Forth. I just don’t know. We have an alley with OKD bullet marks in it and a chip from the head of a missing girl, and a guy who claims that he saw a ‘pony’ get shot right in front of him.” Twilight leaned over the desk and put her head on one hoof. “But that doesn’t make any sense either from an assassin perspective, does it? Why not shoot him?”

“We have no way of knowing if the perpetrators in the first attack were the same as the Level C incident.”

“I have a hunch they are. That thing I saw…”

“The drone?”

“That was no drone, Forth. I know technology. I know ponies better than a lot of people alive today. And I know drones. That wasn’t one. It was a pony.”

“A pony that committed suicide rather than be caught? That would be highly unusual.”

“Everything here is highly unusual. But my gut says the two were the same. That they tried to off Jameson but failed somehow, and that they tipped off Amanda to his location to finish the job.”

“You mean using another patsy.”

“Exactly. But that’s just conjecture, I don’t have proof.”

“We have the brain implant.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. We do. And that’s a little too convenient.”

“How can something be ‘too’ convenient?”

“A brain implant with a girl’s DNA on it, but no body. It could have been planted.”

“By the organization that attempted to murder Mr. Jameson? That is not likely. He had it in his possession, suggesting that he picked it up himself. It was not left behind at the crime scene.”

“But what if they set something up? A hollow-body without an AI carrying the piece…”

“The chance of Mr. Jameson picking up the right piece would be low.”

“Yeah,” said Twilight. “I know. And there’s no clear motive for going through all that trouble. So that could mean….” She trailed off.

“Mean what?”

Twilight set down her cigarette and took a sip of scotch. “It could mean that Jameson planted it himself.”

Forth looked into Twilight’s eyes as if she were trying to determine if she was being sarcastic. “But…”

“I don’t trust him, Forth. We have no way of knowing what happened the first time. Like you said, it’s only by his account. And he is hiding something from us.”

“Everybody hides something,” said Forth. “Ever client we have ever had kept something to themselves.”

“And how much grief has that caused us? But this is bigger. Something is seriously wrong with him.”

“You mean his alopecia universalis?”

“No. I mean I’m beginning to think he’s not even human.”

“So he’s a zooneus? He does not look like any animal I am familiar with.”

“No. I didn’t say that. But something’s not right. We’ve been at this for the better part of three days now. Did you notice that he hasn’t slept or eaten in all that time, or looked tired in any way?”

Forth paused, recalling. “I did not notice,” she said. “But now that you have pointed it out, I do.”

“And I saw him run through a group of turrets that didn’t even notice him.”

“That could be a result of poor-quality turrets. Were they Hi-Point?”

“No, but they should have at least detected something. It’s a simple system.” Twilight leaned in her chair. “And I ran his face through the Aetna-Cross database. He looks exactly like Spitzer.”

“The technomancer Amanda already told us that.”

“But why? Why would a geneticist look like the son of the High Chairman?”

Forth paused. “Is there a possibility that he IS the son of the High Chairman?”

“No. He clearly has advanced skills, and Spitzer VIII was known to be a layabout, playboy, opiate addict, cad, and suspected serial rapist. No genetics ability whatsoever, never even graduated the third grade.”

“You used the past tense.”

“He’s missing. He has been for a long time. Some people think he’s just in hiding or on a party binge. That’s what Aetna-Cross decided, anyway.”

“But you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

“But then who is Elrod Jameson?”

Twilight paused for a long moment. “I don’t know. And I don’t think it’s the important question. I’d much rather know WHAT he is than who…”