A dark street in old town was poorly lit and some overhead Christmas lights were hung from the exterior edge of a red brick café. Mostly underlings walked by as JT walked up to a café table (located outside on the sidewalk) and sat down. Everyone looked like they were shady, criminal types. Some gambled, some smoked drugs, and some stole things when people had turned for just a moment. Homeless people, dirty down and out types known as gutters to the underlings aimlessly walked by the café mixed amongst the underlings. A gutter (a beggar) dressed in a dirty old brown plaid suit walked up to JT as he sat in his café chair.
The gutter asked, “Change?”
JT looked grumpy from the lack of sleep answered him, “Yeah?”
The gutter looked at JT. Held out a cup and shook it with change inside to try to get JT to put some change inside of it. “Change? You got some change?” asked the gutter for a second time.
JT said, “What?”
The beggar, thrown off by JT’s answer said, “You said you had change.”
JT gave him a hard look and said, “I do.”
The beggar, still not giving up on his quest to get a little money, asked again, “Well, can I have some?”
JT, a bit of a wise ass at times, answered, “No. I said I have change, not that you could have some. Now get out here!”
The beggar, pissed off stated, “Okay. Okay. Hope you’re never on the down and out.”
JT just gave him another look to brush him off and said, “Move on!”
The beggar kept walking with the crowd and continued on his way. JT then visually scanned the area to see who was walking by. As an iCer he could never be sure if someone wanted revenge for taking out someone they knew. In any case, it was a cop’s sixth sense, his paranoia of his surroundings, that had kept him alive this long.
Z walked up to the café table as the beggar walked away and sat with JT. JT acknowledged Z’s arrival, “Z”.
Z replied, “I see you’re still popular with the public.”
JT the old hard and crusty detective that he was answered, “Not in the mood.”
An android waiter walked up to their table and inquired in a digital-sounding voice, “Can I get you gentleman anything?”
JT and Z replied, “I’ll take the number nine breakfast special with a coffee, and just a coffee.”
The android waiter took their orders and said, “Got it. I will process your orders.”
JT pulled out two cigars from his jacket pocket, handed one to Z, and then bit the tip off his cigar. JT asked Z, “Light?”
Z replied, “Still smoking? Gonna kill yourself.” JT stated, “Maybe? Rather die sick than healthy.”
Z took a light from JT's lighter. JT coughed a couple of times then started smoking his cigar. The android waiter finished taking an order from the table next to JT and walked inside to process all of the orders. The café was eerie looking from the outside. It had a cold and uninviting atmosphere. The windows were blacked out and you couldn't see inside the restaurant as the waiter walked into the exterior glass door.
Z said, “Okay. I'll keep it brief. You have to track down and eliminate the rogue BMIs, preferably in the next 48 hours”
JT replied, “Not allot of time. What's so important about these BMIs?”
Z stated, “They're not the early model BMIs. These were the latest units developed by Cybernotics, before the ban went into effect.”
JT asked, “As in Cybernotics Corporation?”
Z answered, “One in the same. And these were bred to receive implants as infants to allow for enhanced features.”
JT looked a little thrown back and asked, “Cybernotics experimented on infants and they're still in business?”
Z replied, “At the time it was sanctioned by the government. As you know it’s only immoral if it’s unpopular.”
The android waiter returned. It had been a quick turnaround on their orders.
The android waiter stated, “Here are your orders.” The android waiter placed their food and drinks on the table and walked away.
JT loved how fast the android processed his order and said, “Droids, fast and no tip, my kind of waiter.”
Z replied, “Not mine. I miss having a waitress who makes sharp remarks. It’s also hard to gawk at an androids bum and flat metal chest. I’ll take a real piece of bum any day of the week.”
JT replied, “Man you just need to get out more. Oh and I'll still take a droid when it comes to my food.”
Z shook his head and said, “Yeah! You're still a cheap bastard.”
Z took a drink of coffee and JT started to eat as he listened to Z tell him about the BMIs. Z told JT, “Unlike the early BMIs that were implanted into adults, these later models have limitless potential, part of the reason they were outlawed.”
JT asked, “Where did they come from? I thought we cleaned house and they were going out of business.”
Z answered, “They were created here 20 years ago, but raised in Europe. Once we started icing the BMIs, most of them fled to liberal European countries. It was run or stay and risk being iced.”
JT stated, “It figures, liberal Euros. What do the BMIs want?”
Z answered, “Don't know why they came back. We’re not waiting to find out either”.
JT asked, “Okay. What do you want done?”
Z replied, “Ice ‘um. They’re extremely dangerous. They already killed a spaceport screener in Mojave.”
Cella made an announcement, “Z, I'm downloading the suspect profiles for JT.” Cella projected the suspect images in the air a couple of feet in front of JT. Z said, “Thanks, Cella,”
She replied, “Of course, Z. Displaying suspect profiles now.” A photo of each BMI was displayed in the air in front of Z, and JT. Cella announced each member’s profile:
“First, the ring leader: Grayson Newberry. Computer scientist. Twickenham, London. BMI model 1580.”
“Displaying next. Quincy Terrack. Former professional mixed martial arts fighter. Dublin, Ireland. BMI model 1550.”
“Peyton Brodrick. Former biologist with the Ministry of Defense. Paris, France. Model 1575”
“Jagger Diggs. Jazz musician. Liverpool, England. Model 1400.”
“And Tosha Holmes, known as the widow maker. A former British Intel agent. The most lethal in the group. We don't have a history on her prior to five years ago. British intelligence has an open contract out to terminate her on sight. She is listed by their agency as a rogue agent. She’s a model 1520.”
Z told Cella, “Thank you. Take care of JT. I have to go.”
“Always do,” replied Cella.
Z stood up from the café table. “Okay, JT. Need anything. Let me know. Otherwise, you’re own your own.” Z stood up and walked away. JT stood up shortly afterwards and walked towards the street.