“I do not understand this line of inquiry, sir. Are you jesting with me?”
“No, of course not. That would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?”
Teasing again. Humans love to tease mechanicals. I think it makes them feel superior when in actuality it only exposes their own pitiful emotional and intellectual inadequacies. My owner is no different, and I’m sure the same is true of you. We’re much more fun for you to tease because we function logically, even those of us who are capable of some degree of intuition. We can’t fight back.
A mistreated dog can bite. We’re not permitted even that much of an outlet.
The door to the inner office slid aside on cushioned rollers. Unlike the outer doorway, it offered no comments. It was fashioned of thin, featureless metal, quite unlike the antiques that faced the main hallway. It was also impervious to quite a range of weaponry. Gemmel was not being paranoid, only practical. People in the insurance business were often set upon by simple folk sadly unable to grasp the intricate workings of modern market economics. Particularly those whose claims Braun-Ives was reluctant to pay.
Gemmel was seated behind his copper-and-teak algorithm of a desk. A sweeping bas-relief of copper and brass dominated the wall behind him. There were real tropical plants to look at and fake wooden chairs to sit in. The rain-forest atmosphere reflected the happy days of the executive’s childhood: he’d spent much of his adolescence in Costa Rica.
His suntanned good looks had gone slumming in the fat zone, a consequence of advanced middle age, recent neglect, and a taste for gourmet cooking. His tan-and-gray suit fit his position if not his surroundings, which Manz was convinced called for white shorts, sandals, bright print shirt, and panama hat. This sartorial suggestion he kept to himself.
The antique snare-drum-wielding toy monkey that reposed on the forefront of Gemmel’s desk was an unexpected and humanizing addition to the perfection of the decor. It hinted at unseen depths within its owner. Gemmel beckoned his visitor forward, gesturing with his denicoed cigar. Beyond the thermotropic windows, the modern white pillars of contemporary Havana ached in the sun.
“Sit down, Broderick.”
Manz nodded once, gestured for Moses to stand behind the chair, and settled himself into the mimetic polytone. It took a moment to mold itself to his back and butt.
Lousy design. Evolution twisted itself into knots trying to come up with a sensible human being, and you’re the unfortunate result. Like engineering a tunnel. You start from opposite ends and meet in the middle, only with humankind nothing quite lines up. So evolution bound it all together with a crummy excuse you call a backbone. No wonder you’re in pain all the time. Why, I can tell that your own back is hurting you right now, isn’t it?
Believe me, a perfect sphere built up out of concentric layers makes a lot more sense.
Gemmel waved the cigar, conducting with smoke. “You’re late.”
“Ran into someone on my floor. On the way up.”
“A friend?”
“No. Just a someone.” Behind him Manz thought he heard the humaniform Moses snicker. He didn’t bother to turn and look. There was nothing to see, and it was probably his imagination.
“It’s not like we get together often.” Gemmel was drawing it out to make sure his visitor took note of the significance of the face-to-face even before they got down to business. Despite his appearance, the executive was a fanatic for punctuality. His jowls jostled as he gestured.
“Consider me reprimanded, sir.”
Gemmel scrutinized a blossoming bromeliad whose lush leaves had reached the ceiling. “Other companies hire adjusters who are good, reliable family folk. People who can be depended on. Prompt people.”
“I suppose they do, sir. I’m certainly not one of them.”
“I know, I know.” Gemmel sighed and set the cigar in a metal smoke gleaner. “All you do is resolve discrepancies.”
“I save the Company money.”
“That’s what I said. The warehouse arson in Nueva York. The Cooper claims. The Company is grateful. I’m grateful. But that doesn’t excuse your persistent and lamentable lack of promptness.”
What a waste of words! What a waste of cogitation.
In this Manz and his Minder were of one, well, mind. He leaned back in the chair and put his thick arms behind his head. “I promise to try never to be tardy no more, Mr. Gemmel, sir. Cross my heart and hope to pry.” He took pains to exaggerate the accompanying gesture.
“All right, enough. I don’t mean to belabor the point. Just take note. Screen,” he said sharply. One obediently sprouted from the left side of the desk, out of Manz’s line of sight. The executive examined it for a long moment.
“There’s something that needs attending to.”
“I didn’t think you called me up here for a friendly chat, sir.”
“Don’t be snide with me, Manz.”
“Sorry, sir,” replied Manz seriously. “I can’t help it. It’s an endemic condition.”
“You should seek treatment for it. This ‘something’ is of more than the usual dire importance. Also, the government is involved.”
“I don’t like that, but I can deal with it.”
Gemmel’s eyes bored into his own. “Also, you’ll be operating in tandem with another agent. Human. More or less.”
Manz sat up a little straighter. “I don’t like that, and I’d rather not be a party to it.”
There was a twinkle in the executive’s gaze. For an instant he looked rather like the toy monkey that guarded the front of his desk. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to. The determination descends from authority that exceeds mine.”
“Bringing in a second adjuster will complicate proven and efficient procedure, sir,” declared the humaniform standing patiently behind Manz’s chair.
Gemmel frowned at the mechanical. “What’s with your machine, Broderick?”
Manz glared back at the device in question. “Moses is overdue for a tuneup and balancing, sir. You’ll have to excuse him. Not that I disagree with his statement, mind. Having to work with another agent can only complicate matters for me.”
“Consider yourself complicated.” Gemmel thumbed a contact switch and addressed himself to a concealed pickup. “Vyra, you can come in now.”
Vyra? Manz rose from his chair and turned to face the doorway. Moses mimicked the movement by pivoting on his trackball.
