She said her name was Helena Beame. She was blonde, in her late twenties, and stood at exactly five-foot-seven in her high-heeled pumps. Tommy calculated all these things the moment she walked through the door. She wore a red dress and a black coat, appearing so much like the stereotypical vixen of a detective story that Charlie nearly passed out from a lack of breathing.
Tommy quickly invited her into the office and took his seat behind the desk, his hat proudly fixed on his head. Charlie rolled in the chair from the receptionist's desk, giving Ms. Beame a place to sit, and leaned against the desk. Like any good Girl Friday, she began asking the questions, giving Tommy a chance to process the situation.
"So what can we do for you?"
Beame had a handkerchief at the ready, occasionally dabbing at her eyes and cheeks. She was clearly distraught but would only sputter when asked why. Eventually, she was able to pull herself together enough to tell her tale.
"My friend is missing. I guess you could say we've always kept in close touch. We share the same apartment, for God's sake, but she comes and goes as she pleases. I haven't seen her in over a week, and I need you to find her. Please."
"I'm not trying to offend you by pointing out the obvious, Ms. Beame, but have you tried filing a missing persons report with the police?" Charlie asked.
"Of course, but they won't help. You see, the police don't technically consider my friend a person."
"Then what is she?"
"A robot."
Tommy cocked his head to the side, neck engines whirring.
"So you would see why I came here," Beame explained, pleading straight at Tommy. "I thought you might have some advantage over any other detective, and that you might take me seriously. Everyone else I've seen has turned me down. The well-being of a robot may not be much to them, but it is to you, isn't it? I'm willing to pay, of course. Whatever you want. Just please help me."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. They hadn't even created a pricing rate, and already someone was willing to pay any price they could name. She looked Ms. Beame over, taking a mental appraisal of the woman's jewelry. She appeared well-to-do, at least.
"We'll take it," said Tommy, bluntly.
"Whoa, Tommy, maybe we should get some more information before we accept a new case like that," said Charlie with a snap of her fingers.
"This unit will take the case."
Beame smiled and dabbed at her eyes again. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Steel! I knew I could count on you." She stood up and gathered her coat.
"You'll have to forgive Mr. Steel's impulsive behavior, Ms. Beame, but I would like to ask you a few more questions before you go. If you don't mind, that is."
"Of course not." Beame took her seat once again, her grin slowly becoming a grimace.
"I'm assuming you'll send us all the information you have on your friend."
"Of course. I'll have a packet prepared and dropped off here in the morning."
"Wonderful," said Charlie with a charming smile. "But is there anything else you'd like to share? Do you have any ideas about what happened to her? Did either of you have any enemies?"
"I have a few unpleasant theories. I was married once, and my husband at the time was never fond of living with a robot. He was sent to prison several years back on a few petty charges, including aggravated assault and destruction of property. The 'property' in that case was a law enforcement bot. He's out now, released on parole last week."
"And you feel that he's done something to your robot out of, what, spite? Jealousy?"
"I don't really know. Anything's possible with him. As I said, Ms. Grace, it's just a theory. I've also heard rumors about certain places in the seedier side of town, where robots are stripped and sold for parts. Neither are attractive options to ponder late at night while curled up in bed. I just want to know what happened to her. If it was something bad, if any of my nightmares turn out to be right, I'd at least like to recover what I can. There's always the chance that her memory bank could be recovered."
"What's her name?" Tommy asked.
"Pardon?"
"Your friend, what's her name?"
Beame hesitated. "Fifty-two. Her name is Fifty-two."
"Interesting name."
"It was a model number. She'd been with me since I was a child, and that's what I called her--Fifty-two. I know how cold numbers may sound, but you have to believe me when I tell you that I'm a complete mess. She was my closest friend, and I need to find her again."
Charlie nodded. "We believe you, Ms. Beame."
Tommy stared, his face cold and blank, belying his nature.
Beame again stood and gathered her belongings. "You've no idea how much that means to me," she said with a smile. "I'll have the papers dropped off in the morning."
Beame left quickly, spilling light from the office onto the dark sidewalk as she opened the door. Charlie locked it behind her and returned to Tommy's office, taking the just-vacated seat in front of the desk.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked.
"This unit believes that there is more to her story."
"Me, too."
"She did seem concerned. This unit believes that she was telling the truth, for the most part."
"How could you tell?"
"This unit was monitoring her heart rate. It was odd, fluctuating rapidly, but still within the acceptable parameters this unit has researched."
"Like a lie detector?"
"Yes."
"See, Tommy? That's what I'm talking about. You're going to make the best detective this city has ever seen," she said. "Just keep your methods to yourself, okay?"
"Okay."
Charlie was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. "Tommy, you don't investigate me, do you? Not that I would ever lie to you. It's just kind of creepy knowing you can do that."
"This unit will never invade your privacy, Charlie."
She smiled. "Thanks. Let's get out of here."
They closed the office for the night, locking the door behind them as they took to the streets. They trudged home on the gray sidewalks, stepping over cracks as if they were the veins of the city, under flashing neon lights and past dark alleyways and their hushed promises of danger. They walked quickly, images of the city's seedy underbelly pursuing them at every turn, rising from the concrete depths.
Tommy quickly invited her into the office and took his seat behind the desk, his hat proudly fixed on his head. Charlie rolled in the chair from the receptionist's desk, giving Ms. Beame a place to sit, and leaned against the desk. Like any good Girl Friday, she began asking the questions, giving Tommy a chance to process the situation.
"So what can we do for you?"
Beame had a handkerchief at the ready, occasionally dabbing at her eyes and cheeks. She was clearly distraught but would only sputter when asked why. Eventually, she was able to pull herself together enough to tell her tale.
"My friend is missing. I guess you could say we've always kept in close touch. We share the same apartment, for God's sake, but she comes and goes as she pleases. I haven't seen her in over a week, and I need you to find her. Please."
"I'm not trying to offend you by pointing out the obvious, Ms. Beame, but have you tried filing a missing persons report with the police?" Charlie asked.
"Of course, but they won't help. You see, the police don't technically consider my friend a person."
"Then what is she?"
"A robot."
Tommy cocked his head to the side, neck engines whirring.
"So you would see why I came here," Beame explained, pleading straight at Tommy. "I thought you might have some advantage over any other detective, and that you might take me seriously. Everyone else I've seen has turned me down. The well-being of a robot may not be much to them, but it is to you, isn't it? I'm willing to pay, of course. Whatever you want. Just please help me."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. They hadn't even created a pricing rate, and already someone was willing to pay any price they could name. She looked Ms. Beame over, taking a mental appraisal of the woman's jewelry. She appeared well-to-do, at least.
"We'll take it," said Tommy, bluntly.
"Whoa, Tommy, maybe we should get some more information before we accept a new case like that," said Charlie with a snap of her fingers.
"This unit will take the case."
Beame smiled and dabbed at her eyes again. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Steel! I knew I could count on you." She stood up and gathered her coat.
"You'll have to forgive Mr. Steel's impulsive behavior, Ms. Beame, but I would like to ask you a few more questions before you go. If you don't mind, that is."
"Of course not." Beame took her seat once again, her grin slowly becoming a grimace.
"I'm assuming you'll send us all the information you have on your friend."
"Of course. I'll have a packet prepared and dropped off here in the morning."
"Wonderful," said Charlie with a charming smile. "But is there anything else you'd like to share? Do you have any ideas about what happened to her? Did either of you have any enemies?"
"I have a few unpleasant theories. I was married once, and my husband at the time was never fond of living with a robot. He was sent to prison several years back on a few petty charges, including aggravated assault and destruction of property. The 'property' in that case was a law enforcement bot. He's out now, released on parole last week."
"And you feel that he's done something to your robot out of, what, spite? Jealousy?"
"I don't really know. Anything's possible with him. As I said, Ms. Grace, it's just a theory. I've also heard rumors about certain places in the seedier side of town, where robots are stripped and sold for parts. Neither are attractive options to ponder late at night while curled up in bed. I just want to know what happened to her. If it was something bad, if any of my nightmares turn out to be right, I'd at least like to recover what I can. There's always the chance that her memory bank could be recovered."
"What's her name?" Tommy asked.
"Pardon?"
"Your friend, what's her name?"
Beame hesitated. "Fifty-two. Her name is Fifty-two."
"Interesting name."
"It was a model number. She'd been with me since I was a child, and that's what I called her--Fifty-two. I know how cold numbers may sound, but you have to believe me when I tell you that I'm a complete mess. She was my closest friend, and I need to find her again."
Charlie nodded. "We believe you, Ms. Beame."
Tommy stared, his face cold and blank, belying his nature.
Beame again stood and gathered her belongings. "You've no idea how much that means to me," she said with a smile. "I'll have the papers dropped off in the morning."
Beame left quickly, spilling light from the office onto the dark sidewalk as she opened the door. Charlie locked it behind her and returned to Tommy's office, taking the just-vacated seat in front of the desk.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked.
"This unit believes that there is more to her story."
"Me, too."
"She did seem concerned. This unit believes that she was telling the truth, for the most part."
"How could you tell?"
"This unit was monitoring her heart rate. It was odd, fluctuating rapidly, but still within the acceptable parameters this unit has researched."
"Like a lie detector?"
"Yes."
"See, Tommy? That's what I'm talking about. You're going to make the best detective this city has ever seen," she said. "Just keep your methods to yourself, okay?"
"Okay."
Charlie was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. "Tommy, you don't investigate me, do you? Not that I would ever lie to you. It's just kind of creepy knowing you can do that."
"This unit will never invade your privacy, Charlie."
She smiled. "Thanks. Let's get out of here."
They closed the office for the night, locking the door behind them as they took to the streets. They trudged home on the gray sidewalks, stepping over cracks as if they were the veins of the city, under flashing neon lights and past dark alleyways and their hushed promises of danger. They walked quickly, images of the city's seedy underbelly pursuing them at every turn, rising from the concrete depths.
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