WRAITH CASE STUDY AUGUSTA PINE #3
Then the not-dog unfolded itself.
“No,” Warden breathed. “You—you didn’t.”
Stenc flinched, but the set of his mouth was one of surprise, not terror. He spoke a command. We couldn’t hear the audio, but I was sure the words were to shut down, go to sleep, something along those lines.
The dog did not lie down. It did not go to sleep. It took a step toward Stenc.
Stenc took a step back.
He said the command again, clearly enunciating.
And then the dog’s back lit up as the targeting sensor kicked in.
“Augusta,” said Prefect. “You did not.”
Stenc lunged to one side with an inaudible scream. The rail gun fired and a small spike buried itself in the wall. Drywall and dust flew into the air.
Stenc sprinted for the door, yanked it open, and rushed outside.
The not-dog followed.
In unison, Warden, Prefect, and Tweedledum all turned to gape at me.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I programmed it to only go after him.”
“That’s your idea of fine?” said Warden, aghast. “What part of ‘covert operation’ involves killing a billionaire in front of countless witnesses?”
“So it’d be fine if there were no witnesses?” I asked brightly.
Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, then she turned back to the screen.
The employees of Stenc Industries were clearly not expecting to see their boss run screaming through the office. They scattered like startled chickens—in all different directions, graceless and squawking with fear.
The dog didn’t run. Perhaps that was the most horrifying part. It merely trotted along at a steady clip. My hack ensured it wouldn’t fire into a crowded area, but Stenc didn’t know that.
Stenc screamed at a security guard, who pulled a handgun from his belt and began firing.
The bullets glanced off the dog’s metal exterior, ricochets biting into the walls.
I winced, hoping no one would accidentally get hit.
When the guard ran out of bullets, he picked up a metal chair and brought it down on the not-dog’s body.
The dog staggered, righted itself, then continued trotting toward the stairs.
It moved with a terrifying inevitability.
“I almost feel sorry for him,” said Tweedledum, with absolutely no sympathy in his voice. If anything, he sounded mildly curious. “You think he’ll make it here? He’s not a runner.”
“Terror makes athletes of us all,” replied Prefect.
“Maybe I should’ve named the program ‘Exit, Pursued by Robot Dog,’” I said.
Warden gave us a look that clearly indicated we were terrible people. Or at least, very unprofessional. Which to her was probably the same thing.
People were screaming, pulling alarms, trying to escape the building in droves. The man at the security desk took one look at the robot dog and decided this was above his pay grade. He grabbed a delivery woman and got them both behind the desk and out of sight.
Stenc staggered out of the building. He nearly fell down the five steps to the sidewalk in his panic. Rushing across the street, he gave no thought to traffic and ignored a driverless car as it swerved by him.
The not-dog appeared in the building’s doorway. Carefully, it began picking its way down the sidewalk.
Stenc pounded on the side of the plumber’s van. “PLEASE!”
For a moment, none of us moved.
It was Prefect who finally answered. The van’s sliding door opened and we all looked down at the billionaire. “Yes?” said Prefect, as though this were normal.
Blood ran from a cut on Stenc’s forehead and sweat stained his suit. The panic in his face was one of terrified prey. “Please—I’ll give you the designs. Anything! Just—just make it stop!”
By now, we had drawn a crowd. People were stopping on the street to watch the man in an expensive suit beg three plumbers for mercy.
And all the while, the not-dog ambled closer.
“You will give us the designs,” said Prefect.
“Yes, yes, whatever you want,” babbled Stenc.
The not-dog rounded the corner of the van. It saw Stenc and its legs stiffened as it braced itself to fire.
I stepped out of the van. “Good dog,” I said. At the sound of my voice, it froze. I walked to the machine and patted it on the back. “Go inside the van,” I said. The dog twitched to life and strolled into the van. Tweedledum nearly fell over backward trying to get out of its way.
Prefect walked over to me. “Mission accomplished?” I asked brightly.
He exhaled hard. “Why?”
I knew what he was asking. I could’ve accomplished this quietly. Now, we’d have to deal with witnesses, cops, and property damage.
I thought of Tweedledum, asking if he could leave a letter for his family.
I thought of Tweedledee, whose death would go unmourned and unremarked on.
I thought of the coolly professional Warden, who would never have been punished for her wraith’s death, but she would have to answer for this mess.
I thought of Keith Stenc, who had probably never known true fear in his entire life. Until now.
I crossed my arms. My plumber’s uniform was rolled up to the elbows, so my scale and sword tattoos were visible. “Justice is messy.”