Agency

104 Green Room

Unwrap Conner,” Netherton heard Virgil say. Whatever had draped them was immediately pulled up and away, the display revealing a long, quite narrow room, where people stood talking. He recognized Verity’s facially pierced motorcyclist, but no one else aside from Virgil, who stood in front of the drone, staring down at it. “That rifle has to go,” Virgil said. “It’s probably unregistered, may be stolen.”

Conner sighed audibly, the rifle’s complicated muzzle disappearing from the upper half of the feed. Now the gun appeared in the lower half. Conner removed its magazine, as Netherton had learned to call it in the county. He placed this on a nearby ledge, then did something with the gun’s mechanism, producing a single unfired round, which he stood on end beside the magazine. “Shooter wore gloves. Don’t get anyone’s prints on it.”

“Bring gloves,” Virgil said to his manual phone. “Something we need off the premises.”

Now Stets and Caitlin entered, the door opened for them by Verity’s motorcyclist. Stets wore a black blazer above black trousers loose enough for his leg brace, Caitlin a soft black suit that Netherton suspected was cashmere. Seeing them made him feel as though he were in a green room, prior to a client’s media appearance.

“Is Verity there?” Rainey asked, beside him on the couch.

He muted. “I don’t see her.”

“Where are you now?”

“Feels like the staging area for whatever this is. Is Thomas asleep?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Phone me. I’ll patch you through.” Her sigil pulsed. “It feels like a less private version of Lowbeer’s car,” he said.

“It’s a trailer,” she said, having evidently taken in the scene. “A caravan. Who are these people?”

“Aside from Virgil, Stets and Caitlin, and Verity’s friend with the jewelry, I’ve no idea. People working on the event, I suppose.”

“Can they hear me?” Rainey asked.

“They can now,” Netherton said, unmuting her.

Conner had positioned the drone, with its charger against the wall, near the entrance, its legs fully retracted.

“Who’s on board?” Stets asked Virgil, looking down at the drone.

“Conner piloting,” said Virgil, “and Wilf.”

“And Rainey,” Netherton said.

“Hello,” said Rainey. “I’m curious as to what it is you’re preparing for. We seem to be in the wings of something, very pre-curtain.”

“We share your curiosity,” Stets said, “but it’s just now become clearer. She’s saying hello to the world tonight. I’ll introduce her, then she’ll say whatever it is she decides to. Then we’ll join the audience and celebrate.”

“That’s it?” Netherton asked.

“She’s the first fully autonomous AI,” Stets said. “That we know of, I should say, as we weren’t previously aware of her either. She’ll be the first to announce herself, anyway, so the evening, however brief and last-minute, will be of some historic significance.”

“People, it seems to me,” Virgil said, dryly, “have tended to be fairly dubious about the idea of fully autonomous artificial intelligence.”

“Ever the skeptic,” said Stets, smiling. “We’ve thought of that ourselves, but circumstances have variously forced our hand.”

“Here’s Verity,” said Rainey. Netherton saw her emerging from the single room at the far end of the trailer. She wore black trousers, a black turtleneck, and a very simple bronze silk jacket, the dressiest thing Netherton had yet seen her in. She’d had her hair trimmed, and looked considerably fresher, he thought. He watched as she stopped to speak with her motorcyclist, by his coffee machine, who took out a pad and pencil and wrote. Then, as he turned and walked toward them, Verity knelt and crawled under a fold-down table.

The motorcyclist tore the top sheet from his pad and passed it to Stets.

Stets took it, read it, looked up. “She says she and Eunice are having a conversation, that this is their only opportunity before the event, and requests we respect their privacy.”

“Then don’t disturb them,” Caitlin said, “obviously.”

A woman in surgical gloves, whom Virgil called Carol, had arrived for Conner’s rifle. Picking it and its magazine and the lone cartridge up, with what Netherton thought of as a full-nappy expression, she exited.

“Mute,” Rainey said, quietly. He did.

“Muted,” he said.

“You’re the one person I know,” she said, “whose job is reliably weirder than mine.”