Page 75 of Even Robots Die
I don’t know yet how he can be useful, but I’m not worried about it.
In the meantime, he’s useless if he can’t even look at me.
43
Florentine
“Starting the descent,” says the automated voice coming from the jet.
In front of me, Daniel grips the edge of the bench on each side of his thighs and his fingers turn almost as white as the bench itself. His eyes stay tightly closed and it looks like he might be counting in his head or reciting something.
I finally look through the window, and my neighborhood comes into view. Well, what it has become since I left to retrieve Dad.
Where there used to be colorful streets with open windows, people hanging out, and music at every corner all day long, there are empty streets. No music can be heard and I’m not sure anything else can be heard either.
For a second I think that might be because I’m inside the jet—it barely makes a noise, but maybe it is soundproof for all I know—but as the jet reaches the ground and the glass doors open upward, nothing changes.
This is unsettling.
“Name and business,” asks a man—no, a bird-shifter, according to the brownish wings resting at his back—who seems to appear out of thin air.
It’s my fault, though. Between Daniel not feeling well and the shock of seeing my street so eerily silent, I didn’t pay attention to anyone being around.
I should have. Especially since the man who just questioned me doesn’t seem to be simply strolling around if the gun he’s holding and the one strapped to his right thigh are any indication.
“Florentine Beaumont, I live here,” I tell the man.
I don’t bother with asking his name. I’m pretty sure he won’t take well to my sass, and I have lost enough time sleeping my period away.
“Address,” he barks more than says.
He could be handsome with his dark skin, brown hair tied into a man bun, and his blue eyes, but the deep set of those eyes and the frown that seems to be a permanent fixture on his face ruins the appeal.
“24 rue Paul Vaillant Couturier,” I say, and I can’t stop myself from letting it show that I don’t like being questioned this way.
The man activates something on his holo and a whole list appears in front of him. I see him sort through street names until he finds mine and the list of all of my family member’s names next to the number corresponding to my door.
Two of them are in red, while the other four are highlighted in green. He touches one of the red lines and my name turns green.
Only my dad’s name is left in red.
The birds know Dad isn’t home.
What they do with the info I have no idea and I don’t want to discover.
I grab Daniel by his arm and pull him after me.
“Stop,” the bird says before I manage to take two steps.
It was too good to be true.
“Daniel Hemond,” Daniel says without missing a beat.
For someone who was barely hanging on a few minutes ago, he’s quick with his answer and doesn’t seem to be all that bothered.
That is until the bird speaks again.
“Business.”
