Tell No One

Tell No One

By: Michael K Norris

Colonel James Canton checked his reflection in the ‘San Jose Police - Class of 2029’ framed print that hung in his office. He avoided looking back at his young, fresh face in the photograph and took a deep breath, bracing for the interrogation. He straightened his clean white shirt and dark tie before picking a piece of lint from his shoulder.

Sergeant Jessie Golson rapped her knuckles on the frame of his open office door.

“He’s here,” she said. “You want a good cop for this one?”

Canton shook his head and picked up a manilla folder from his desk. “Just wait outside the infirmary. This won’t take long.”

His sergeant gave a quick nod and left the entryway. Canton took a breath and stepped into the hall. One of the Co-Trin humanoid robots owned by the department walked past clutching several files in its eight-fingered hands. They were expensive machines, and in the decade since they were brought in Canton never stopped marveling at the inherent contradiction of AI-enabled robots often used to carry paperwork.

At quarter to nine on a Friday night, the police station was mostly quiet, but Canton knew from his twenty-nine-plus years it was going to start getting noisy in a few hours.

He glanced at his watch and took a deep breath as he pushed open the door of ‘Interview Room 1.’ He let it close gently behind him.

In a steel chair that was bolted to the floor was Charles Kearns, wearing a gray T-shirt and a dark jean jacket. His hands rested easily but confrontationally on the table between them.

“Evening, Charles,” Canton said.

“Lawyer.” The two-syllable word dripped out with contempt.

“Good to see you too.”

“Lawyer,” Kearns said again.

“You are not under arrest, hence the lack of handcuffs,” Canton said as he sat and placed the folder down on the table.

Kearns smirked. “I thought you retired months ago,” he said.

“Not until April,” Canton said. “But I got the cake picked out for my last day. Lava. If you tell me what you were doing in Willow Glen tonight I’ll save you a slice.”

“I wasn’t anywhere near Willow Glen. I was shooting pool at Evergreen Billiards and they have a ton of security cameras there,” Kearns said. “Check ‘em.”

“No need. I believe you.”

Kearns stared at Canton before leaning back slightly. His eyes flicked to the file and then to the security camera in the corner, which was lifeless and dusty.

“Why’d your boys bring me here then? I’ve been straight for over a year. My parole officer loves me and so does my boss.”

“I know. It’s in your file.”

“Then what’s this about?”

“Charles, you still associate with, I guess the word is, the underworld class,” Canton said, spinning the folder on the table as though he were getting ready to open it.

Kearns put his hands up defensively. “Hey, I can’t control who goes to the same hangouts as me, and yeah, I’ll say hello to some of them but I don’t consort or scheme with any of those guys.”

“Understood,” Canton said, tapping the closed file. “But this isn’t about you and them. I need to ask you something. Have you heard of any guys who went to rob a place in Willow Glen, or anywhere else for that matter…and didn’t come back?”

Kearns scrunched his face and stared. “What?”

“Let me ask it differently,” Canton said. “Have you ever heard of any Co-Trin personal assistant or housekeeper-class robots being used for…say…lethal guard duty?”

“Of course not,” Kearns said. “Their programming won’t allow it. What’s the umbrella code again? ‘Do only what is best for humanity?’ The slightest attempt at a hack bricks the whole robot. Plus, their hands are designed specifically so they can’t hold guns, and you can’t even use them for walking a dog or watching a kid. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’m familiar with the laws when it comes to these robots,” Canton said. “But the abandoned robots we run into on the street show signs of modification.”

He opened the file and slid two sheets toward Kearns. It was a close-up of the face of a generic, personal assistant-class Co-Trin robot. A second photo was the side of the robot’s head, and two drilled holes were visible in the plastic housing.

Kearns chuckled and tapped his finger on the second photo. “That’s no mod. I’ve seen that. When a new Co-Trin robot comes out, the rich goofs don’t want the hassle of recycling their old one, so they wipe its memories and send them for a walk on trash day. I think that’s how those middle school kids got their hands on some. That story in San Jose Spotlight?”

Canton clenched his jaw and put the photos back into the folder. “Sure, but the junked robots they repurposed can’t do much more than simple labor. I’m talking about newer ones getting modified to deal with burglars. With deadly force.”

“Those Willow Glen types who dump their robots are making us pay for their littering. You should go after them,” Kearns said. “They’re the real criminals.”

“Some of them are real criminals, but not the way you’re thinking. Let me show you something.”

He picked up the folder and stood up to leave the interrogation room. Kearns apprehensively followed. After walking down the long corridor far from the front desk, they passed another Co-Trin robot carrying files and stopped at a door with a sign over it that read ‘INFIRMARY.’

Sergeant Golson was standing in front with her back straight.

“At ease, Sergeant,” Canton said, handing her the file.

Golson glanced into Canton’s eyes for a moment before taking the folder and heading away from them down the hallway, leaving them alone.

Canton turned and held up a finger. “I’m showing you this in confidence,” he said. “You tell no one, you understand?”

“Sure, yeah,” Kearns said with a shrug.

“No. One.”

Canton glanced in both directions in the corridor and quickly opened the entrance to the dimly lit infirmary. He bundled Kearns inside and rapidly shut the door.

Kearns stared. Sitting on a chair next to a scale was a man dressed all in black. Spatters of blood and what looked like tissue covered his chest and face. One of the sleeves of his shirt was torn off at the bicep and a thick bandage was on his right wrist. He was looking straight ahead with his eyes wide open and his whole body shaking.

Kearns nearly fainted.

“None of that blood seems to be his,” Canton said, pointing at the man’s red-speckled face. “Charles, do you know this guy?”

Kearns felt as though he were absorbing the victim’s trauma. Canton stepped closer to the bloodstained man and waved a hand in front of his face as though he were trying to confirm he was catatonic.

He turned back to Kearns. “Answer me. You know him?”

“I never saw him before,” Kearns blurbled. “I swear.”

“He’s the third one this month,” Canton said. “The first said he was part of a two-man crew that was robbing houses on Lincoln. He said his partner was torn in half by a modified housekeeper robot. The second guy was hitting another street and died of his injuries before we could find out which house, and this is the third guy.”

He pointed to the man’s bandaged wrist. “Similar injuries. Different Willow Glen street. But someone else in the room obviously got it worse. Like I said, the blood isn’t his.”

He vaguely gestured at the bloodstains on the man’s vacant face.

“Charles, you were right when you said those rich people who dump their old robots out are criminals, but the bigger thing going on is they’re somehow overriding the umbrella code of Co-Trin robots and getting them to kill trespassers. Now, are you sure you don’t know this guy?”

“I don’t!”

Canton shook his head. “Our NCD interface is down, so if this guy has a record, we won’t find out who he is until morning at the earliest. Twelve hours is plenty of time for the owner of whatever robot did this to him to get rid of any blood, bone, or body at their residence. We can’t prevent people using robots for murder if we can’t catch the ones who bankroll and perform illegal programs.”

Canton pivoted his body so he was between Kearns and the bloodstained man. He raised a hand in a calming gesture.

“The city is in a real bind here,” Canton said. “Co-Trin is a big job creator and we don’t want them to leave San Jose. On the other hand, if word of killer robots gets out, it’ll cause a national panic. So just do two things, okay? Don’t tell anyone about any of this, and if you hear about any burglars encountering a dangerous robot or see rogue programmers making black market modifcations, you call me. Our C.I. program isn’t what it used to be, but we can kick some money your way if you bring good information and maybe loosen your parole tether a bit more. Understood?”

Kearns nodded slowly.

“You positive you don’t know this guy?”

Kearns looked again at the shaking, bloodstained man with the thousand-yard stare.

“I’m sorry,” Kearns said in a halting voice. “I wish I did. I don’t.”

“Alright,” Canton said, nodding in resignation. “You can go. Sorry to bother you on a Friday night. Stay on the straight and narrow. You’ll be safer. And remember.”

He pointed to the man one more time and put an index finger vertically to his own lips before reaching past Kearns and opening the door. Kearns nearly jumped at the sight of the Co-Trin robot carrying another load of paperwork past the room, but quickly regained his composure as he watched Sergeant Golson escort him to the exit of the station.

Canton watched them go and stepped back into the infirmary, letting the door gently close. He headed to a cabinet and opened a drawer just as the man on the chair slowly raised an index finger in the air.

Very slowly and without changing his vacant expression, the man placed his finger just in front of right ear and slid it down his cheek, leaving a trail of pale, clean skin. As Canton watched, the man then put the finger into his mouth.

Canton shook his head as he pulled a towel from the drawer and ran it under the sink. “Cut it out, Morris,” he said. “That’s gross.”

“It’s less corn starch and a better brand of strawberry jelly this time,” the man in black said as he caught the towel Canton tossed at him with his free hand. “The consistency is more realistic. And sweeter. Think he bought it?”

Canton nodded as Morris continued to wipe the rest of the reddish mixture off his skin. “Mmm-hmm. And he’s probably texting every low-life he knows now. The number of times a two-bit criminal will spread rumors is in direct proportion to the number of times you tell him not to.”

Morris let out a chuckle.

“The more the killer robot legend grows, the more they’ll cut back on break-ins,” Canton said as he threw Morris another towel.

“You know, your acting is getting better every time,” Morris said as he changed out of the jelly-stained shirt. “You sure you don’t want to try out for Santa Cruz Shakespeare with me? We’re short a Tybalt.”

“Maybe next season, after I retire,” Canton said. “Right now, I have to be ready to go to whatever shifts need me. I’m telling you, if these guys didn’t buy the robot rumors, I’d have even more work than I do now.”

“I love tropes that never die,” Morris said as he buttoned a clean shirt in the reflection of a paper towel dispenser. “A robot uprising is such science fiction. Given the safety record of Co-Trin and all the laws, I can’t people actually worry about AI taking over the world.”

Canton smiled.

“I’m going to go give Becky a quick call,” Morris said as he pulled out his phone. “She’s going to meet us at the movie.”

“Good,” Canton said. “We’ll see you both there in about twenty minutes.”

Morris gave Canton a thumbs up and strode out of the infirmary. Canton threw the soiled towels into the opening beneath the sink and put Morris’ discarded shirt and bandage in the trash.

He exited the infirmary and entered the corridor, where the Co-Trin robot was again passing by carrying a large bundle of files. Canton stood still at the doorway, watching it go.

At the corner where the corridor split in two directions, the robot paused and glanced backward to look at Canton for a long moment before continuing its errand.

Canton stayed still for a long time and wondered why the robot had glanced back at him like that for no apparent reason.

“It only happens in science fiction,” he said to himself with a forced laugh as he headed back to his office. “It only happens in science fiction.”

The End