BATTER 19

“Sure. Next time I feel like getting high, I’ll give you a kiss instead. Thanks, mate.”

Baron replied absentmindedly, the memory of the soft flesh that had touched his lips flashing through his mind. If that sensation was as addictive as it felt, it might be just as dangerous as the drugs. Shaking off the idle thought, Baron prepared to leave. Since he’d come with nothing but his own body and one android, packing up was a breeze. As they reached the threshold, Bijou asked:

“So, where is our next destination?”

“Well, I’ve considered a few options.”

He could track down Minari again to grill him about the drugs, or pursue the actual culprit who attacked Liz. But for some reason, Minari didn’t trust Paul, and even if Bijou held some favor with him, Baron didn’t exactly trust the kid to relay his intentions correctly.

However, he might be able to track down the attacker’s metallic prosthetic leg. There was one thing Baron hadn’t told the Chief or his colleagues: the attacker’s prosthetic had deflected the bullets perfectly. They didn’t lodge themselves in; they were quite literally, perfectly deflected.

In everyday life—which is to say, among civilians—people don’t drop a fortune on combat-grade, bulletproof cyborg legs. Even the “bulletproof” prosthetics available on the civilian market weren’t powerful enough to flatten a round on impact. Gear with that level of ballistic resistance was primarily used by the military. Yeah, the military again!

At this point, the dedicated civil servant Baron Lin couldn’t help but feel a wave of grief. Exactly which traitorous bastard was siphoning off Department of Defense inventory? Well, the list was probably endless. Even as an undercover, he could name a few suspects off the top of his head. But since Neon Leon didn’t care much for the arms trade, he wasn’t exactly up to date on the latest family tree in that sector.

It would have been much more helpful if he could access the Police Department’s network, but in his current situation, it didn’t look like any of his colleagues were going to lend a hand. However, if he shook down the bastards who sent the intruders last night, he’d likely find the ones selling the hardware, too.

“First, we’re going to pay a visit to the guys who jumped us.”

“Have you identified who they are?”

“The robot had mud stains on its feet. Looking at the color, it wasn’t that rotten sludge from under the overpass. There aren’t many places left in this world where you can actually step in mud. It’s the outskirts of the Lower City where pavement is scarce, and it must have rained recently. Can you find a region that fits those criteria?”

Baron gave a playful wink, and Bijou beamed. Even as he smiled, he was likely accessing the web to check recent weather data. True to the tasks his ancestors had always performed, the answer came back in less than a few seconds.

“It’s near Edge Street. From around 11:00 AM the day before yesterday until 5:00 PM yesterday, there was an average of 2 millimeters of rain per hour.”

A clear answer. Now that the destination was set, there was no reason to hesitate.

The ground of New-New York, especially in the Lower City, is covered in concrete and asphalt as if it has evolved an exoskeleton. It’s the kind of city that rots from the inside because nothing can soak through, but there were soft sectors without that hard shell. That was Edge Street.

The buildings, packed together in defiance of any zoning laws, began to space themselves out further and further toward the perimeter. Edge Street sat in a fickle wasteland where it was either sweltering, pouring rain, or bone-chillingly cold.

Baron scanned the area as he drove his car into the desolate town. Rows of shipping containers lined the landscape under the stinging sun. He spotted occasional attempts at personality—spray-paint art or posters—but such efforts only added to the sense of misery.

“I can never get used to this view. I wonder if people actually live here.”

“Nevertheless, there is no dust accumulated near the entrances. And I can pick up an internet signal.”

“Might be the bio-signals of the guys who want to kidnap you.”

“I cannot say for certain they are here, but if they are in this town, how do you plan to find them?”

“They’re an impatient bunch. They won’t just let a piece of prey walk right through their front yard.”

He relayed the news that they had entered the heart of enemy territory with a casual air. Baron parked the car on the dirt surface. He looked at Bijou, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Let’s head out and enjoy a little date.”

“A date! I like dates very much.”

“What a coincidence, so do I.”

“What else do you like?”

“Not being bothered?”

“Acknowledged, I’ll take note of that! As for me, I like reciting poetry.”

Fearing he might actually start a poetry reading, Baron dodged the response with a meaningless chuckle. Fortunately, Bijou simply followed quietly behind him. The two walked straight along the path formed by the buildings.

Most of the windows were small and set to blind mode, but there was one container box thrown wide open, revealing the interior. It was a shop handling various sundries. Judging by the dust on the merchandise, business wasn’t exactly booming.

Baron stepped into the shade under the shop’s awning. Bijou stretched out his legs and stood beside him, intentionally mimicking Baron’s gait. While the android browsed the junk lined up on the stalls, Baron spoke to the proprietor behind the window frame.

“Give me a pack of Freedom Reds.”

“We only sell drug patches here.”

The shop owner, whose skin was scorched red by the sun, replied in a surly tone.

“Ah, well. That won’t do then.”

Drug patches were the cheapest of the cheap. Baron made a gesture of dusting off his hands and looked away. Bijou was still busy looking at the stalls. A digital display was promoting daily subscriptions for a news platform. The governor’s face was broadcasted for a long time in the preview clip. Baron watched the video alongside him with indifferent eyes.

—I will not leave the Earth where I was born. This is not a wasteland. You are not abandoned people, either…

The governor, shouting entreaties on the screen, had gained popularity by emphasizing his past as a production worker who manufactured androids. To think a common blue-collar worker had become a big shot considered for the next presidency—it was a rare personification of hope. Basically, even when the world is a mess, those meant to make it, make it. Baron tapped on the glass.

“Want me to buy you one? What are you staring at so intently?”

“No, I’m fine!”

Then again, would a machine need anything other than batteries or spare parts? Baron stared for a moment at his bare shoulders, which glowed pale even in the shade. He hasn’t been wearing the same clothes for twenty years, has he? Once he noticed the amount of skin exposed and the stains on the fabric, it started to bug him.

Despite appearances, Baron Lin was a relatively clean man, barring a few internal complications. If this private investigation went well, it would only be right to give this kind machine a little reward. New clothes wouldn’t be a bad way to pay him back. He was tall and lean from his neck to his limbs; he looked like he’d be fun to dress up regardless of what he wore. As he was thinking this, the shop owner spoke first.

“You’re not from around here. What brings you by? There’s nothing to see.”

“Looking for someone.”

“You a gang member? Who do you run with?”

Do I really look that low-class? Well, he should be grateful for that. It seemed his life as Paul Xavier had penetrated quite deeply. Baron furrowed his brow slightly.

“Probably better for both of us if you don’t know.”

He didn’t lie. When he gave a shrug, the shop owner narrowed his eyes. Baron twisted his mouth into an ambiguous angle that could have been a threat or a joke.

“Why? Did I wander into somewhere I’m not supposed to be?”