Division Zero by Matthew S. Cox Read Free Book Online Page B

current and some not so current officers. White, black, and silver made up the bulk of the area, save for the occasional splash of green from a potted plant or blue from the holographic terminals.
    A handful of other agents looked her way as she arrived, some with pleasant smiles and others with worry. Anyone who knew she held a rating in mind blast often avoided eye contact. Kirsten felt better, since she only dabbled. The poor bastards who excelled at it got put on short leashes. Even the high command feared them, as the strong ones could erase a mind back to infancy.
    Dorian sat at his desk, fiddling with the terminal as Kirsten fell into the tedious task of typing out the reports from the incident at Saguaro Asylum, the part of her job she loathed beyond all else. She could not see the point in all this electronic paperwork if the government still considered the things she dealt with in theoretical terms.
    An eternity later, she slumped forward with a relieved sigh and let her forehead hit the submit button on the holographic monitor. A noise from her gut reminded her she had skipped breakfast―not that her apartment had any food in it to skip.
    “Wren!” A voice yelled before she could take two steps toward the cafeteria.
    She froze like a scruffed cat, turning her head to look at her immediate supervisor, Captain Eze. He leaned out of his office, waving her over. Once she made eye contact, he smiled and vanished back into the room. She relaxed, knowing by his mannerism he would not be yelling about something.
    Captain Jonathan Eze waited behind his desk, arms folded, with a look of concern on his face. The light from the ceiling gleamed on the dark skin of his shaved head. Kirsten closed the door behind her and walked up to the desk.
    “Yes, sir?”
    Even if he had something to scold her about, the calming way about him made bad news easier to take, and his accent left even bad things sounding reasonable. His large brown eyes were kind; he was motivated by his desire to do right by those who served under him. He gestured at a chair facing the desk and sat down. She had forgotten where he said he came from, somewhere in West Africa―perhaps Nigeria. He mentioned it once, when they had first met, before her knowledge of his person softened the intimidation of his rank.
    “Kirsten, a case has just been sent over to us from Division 1. They would like our assessment of something they cannot explain. I am giving this one to you.” He pushed a clear plastic tablet to the edge of the desk with a smile. “Impressive work at the Asylum, by the way. I just got off the phone with Captain Morris. He sends his thanks for getting his people out of there alive.”
    Kirsten looked off to the side, biting her lip and picking at her sleeve. “I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.”
    Eze laughed. “Everything we do is out of the ordinary, though it would have been nice if they gave you a little backup.”
    “Yeah.” She fidgeted. “But they were―”
    “I read your report.”
    She had sent it in only seconds before he called her, but then again his talent with technology had no doubt ‘absorbed’ the substance of what she sent.
    He leaned back in his chair. “Division 5 ran into something they have no answers for. A Class 1 doll experienced a severe malfunction at the Lyceum Hotel. There was a death and a few serious injuries. Command thinks there is a connection to other incidents with dolls going haywire over the past few weeks.”
    “Five?” She blinked. “I’m guessing there’s more to it than just a Class 1 doll… how could they fail to handle that?”
    “Oh, the unit has been put down. The problem was what they saw in the AI when they dumped the memory―or rather didn’t see. They could not find a reason for what happened, so they want us to conduct a thorough review just to cover all angles.”
    She could not resist his contagious smile. “Okay. Machines aren’t my thing, but I’ll go have a look