The conversation had degenerated to something just below a shouting match when they heard a knock at the door. Frederika glanced at her wristwatch and cursed. "You stay. I'm not done with you yet."

Betsy crossed her legs and sat back in the plush chair. They had been discussing her work on reproducing the drug jack, or more precisely her failure to do so. Frederika, locked in her cozy mansion far from the reality of Rivertown, was acting like it was 25 years ago when a rich socialite could simply dial her doctor for whatever wonder drug she wanted. Perhaps Frederika honestly thought the resources Betsy had been given would be sufficient to unlock the chemical makeup of the drug and recreate it. Though her secret laboratory was better than the crappy research facility in Summerland, it fell far short of what was necessary for success. Betsy guessed that the synthetic drug had been produced in small batches by some specialized sub-lab and thus quantities would be extremely limited. It wasn't like the narcotic rundown, which every junkie east of the Juneau seemed to be able to cook up in mass quantities in the city's last days. All these years later and the city was still awash in it.

Even though she knew her assignment was futile, Betsy exhausted the jack samples she'd been given and requested more. She claimed it was for experimentation but, like Frederika, Betsy hade developed an appreciation for how a small quantity of the druge diluted in drink took her edge right off. It made the thought of another day in this decrepit world seem bearable. Frederika liked hers in her afternoon tea; Betsy preferred a glass of wine at night. With their supply now perilously low, down to the last few phials, Betsy bluffed that she needed them if she were to have any chance for a last minute breakthrough. For good reason, Frederika wasn't convinced.

Frederika opened the suite's heavy oak door for a middle-aged man wearing fatigues and a bristly brown mustache. Frederika greeted him with a modicum of manners and waved him into the room. Betsy reclined and waited.

"No need to get up," Frederika said to her, her voice rich with sarcasm. "Betsy Hermann, Sergeant Nicholas Markovic. August appointed him at the beginning of all this and he's been a trusted servant ever since. "

Betsy offered him a tight-lipped smile and curt nod. "Pleasure, ma'am," he answered.

"Aren't you going to introduce your companion, Sergeant? Does he have a name?" Frederika asked.

Markovic cleared his throat. "Yes. His name is David, but he doesn't talk."

Her curiosity piqued, Betsy leaned over the arm and looked past the lieutenant to see a boy of eight or nine years standing behind him. Markovic put his arm around the boy and pulled him around so he stood before them. Betsy gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. She glanced at Frederika, who returned the look with small but devilish grin. Later, Betsy realizing Frederika had been watching for her reaction.

"What..." Betsy stumbled for the right words before realizing no one was going to help her. "What's wrong with him?"

David's skin looked supple and smooth like a child's should, but his face didn't look quite right, as though the flesh stretched unnaturally to his skull. His movements were jerky as he peered around the room, visibly squinting as he focused as different objects caught his attention. The muscles in his face seemed to twitch every so slightly. Betsy couldn't take her eyes away even though he repulsed her. She realized she was staring but she couldn't look away.

"Yes, tell us Nicholas. Whatever in the world is wrong with him?" Frederika asked with a smile. Betsy could tell she was enjoying this.

Sergeant Markovic frowned, confused. "There's nothing wrong with him. He's perfectly fine. He doesn't speak but he never could, if that's what you're getting at. We've treated him very well."

Was this some kind of new disease? A sudden sense of fear seized Betsy and, unnerved, she blurted, "Will someone tell me what's going on here? Who is this?"

Markovic's brow furrowed again and the boy faced her. He squinted, examining her, and Betsy swallowed an urge to scream. Frederika gave the lieutenant a nod and understanding dawned on his face.

"Apologies, ma'am, I thought you knew. David's an android. A robot," he said, perhaps confusing her for a dullard as her mouth dropped open.

Betsy shook her head. "It's not possible."

"Yes, ma'am."

"No," Betsy said and looked at Frederika, who arched an eyebrow.

"Yes," she said. "It is."

"What? How?" was all Betsy could manage as words fled from her. "Is this some kind of joke? It's not possible."

Frederika noticed Nicholas wasn't going to answer. "They found him in a sub-lab. That of a military contractor, wasn't that right lieutenant?"

He nodded. "That's right. It looks as though he was one of two varieties. He was the only unit functioning."

"Fascinating, isn't he?" Frederika asked.

Betsy swallowed. "What are you going to do with him?"

Frederika nodded to the lieutenant again. He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with so much classified information being so casually divulged.

"He has certain... strategic military applications. We feel he's ready for a test deployment."

Betsy fell back into the chair, her eyes locked on the boy. And, like him, she was completely speechless.