Silicon Man by William Massa Page B

official spotlight on her activities. She liked making money, but she liked having the freedom to spend it even more.
    The voice of the caller filled her workshop and the beagle stopped chewing on the hand, aware of his owner’s sudden tension. “This is the Network. We have an incoming packet that needs to be routed to the hub.”  
    The beagle let out a low woof. Keira glanced up from her work, killed the soldering iron and removed her goggles. Her look was a mix of punk rock and cyber-tech, sexy in an edgy way, eyes alive with a razor-sharp intelligence. She wore a computer chip on a necklace and sported a circuit-board tattoo on her forearm. Each item had its own history and represented an integral part of who she was.  
    Keira spoke, her voice tight. “I told you never to contact me again.”
    “I promise this will be the last time.”  
    “That's what you said a month ago.”
    “We need your help.”
    “I’m sorry, but this shop is closed for business. Now get off my channel.”
    “There's a runaway out there who needs your help, Keira,” the voice said softly.
    “That's tough but...”
    “He won't make it without you...”
    Warring emotions flickered over Keira's features.
    “And he's headed right for your store.”
    “Wait a minute–“
    “You better intercept him if you don't want AI-TAC to show up at your door. They might frown upon non-sanctioned mech hacks...”
    “Solus, you can't do this to me—“
    “I'm sorry, Keira.”  
    Solus' voice fizzled out.  
    “SOLUS!”
    The beagle looked up at Keira curiously. She let out a sigh. “Shit!”

C HAPTER N INE

    COLE FOLLOWED THE directions on the digital map and arrived at a closed-off city block in the gritty downtown area of the city. The streets were bustling with people, a large protest in progress.  
    Everywhere Cole looked, he could see people holding up digital signs. Slogans flashed across the screens in rapid succession — streaks of red, green and blue, intermittent splashes of digital light… EQUAL RIGHTS FOR MECHS. MACHINES ARE PEOPLE TOO . The words differed but they shared one message — a collective cry for freedom.  
    Ironically, the protesters weren’t mechs but humans sympathetic to the cause. Cole respected their idealism but saw them as misguided. There was a brief moment in time when he might have entertained similar notions but those foolish thoughts died the day a mech runaway ripped through a red light and plowed a half-ton of steel into his wife’s vehicle. In Cole’s view, these people meant well but they were naïve if they thought equal rights for mechs was a noble cause.  
    A digital box popped up in the upper corner of his vision. He had reached his destination. What was the next move?
    Cole’s focus shifted away from the milling crowd and zeroed in on other details of his surroundings. The teeming streets were blocked off. He spotted a few police officers at the edge of the heaving throng, mute sentinels with itchy batons. Their heads turned almost as if instinct drew them to ferret out the AI hiding in the crowd. Cole realized they were receiving instructions from headquarters. Escape was impossible as long as the tracking chip remained active in his head. If he didn’t make contact with the Underground soon, the whole mission would be a bust.
    He tried to merge deeper into the crowd, allowing the sea of bobbing heads to envelop him. The officers continued to scan the mass of humanity, trained, watchful eyes seeking anything out of the ordinary.  
    Cole pulled his hoodie tighter over his head. Were his glowing power bars visible from afar? He was still pondering the question when a woman appeared behind him. She grabbed his arm and dragged him along. “Come with me.”
    Keira whisked a surprised Cole into the cresting mass of protesters. The cops tried to follow, but the bustling crowd was slowing them down.
    “Where are we going? Who are you?” Cole asked.
    Keira’s face was all business as she