《Azure Lineas: The Blue Line》 The Blue Line 1: Drawing the Line ¡°All units in the vicinity of Olive and Twenty Ninth Avenue, be advised, reports of prowler in Midvale neighborhood. Described as male black man, bearded, approximately six foot three, in a grey hoodie. Suspect described as carrying an object, possibly a crowbar. ¡° I floated in space, eyes closed, listening to the police chatter. Behind it, a dozen audio streams flickered in and out, my ears across the city. ¡°Ten four dispatch, unit two three seven responding. Potential suspect in sight, questioning now.¡± My eyes snapped open on hearing the second voice. In response to my eyes opening, the main display lit up below me, a blue circle superimposed on a street map. I focused on it, cutting out the four smaller screens that hung in my peripheral vision. As I focused, the blue circle grew, the map zooming in. A small red dot appeared. Nearby were two blue dots, and as I brushed my gaze across them, two of my small monitors flipped their view, lighting up a light blue around their edge to mark them. A tug of my arm against the cords that held me in the air swapped the view, and turned the other monitors blue as well, two camera views each, one to my right, one to my left. A voice echoed in my head, just left of center, a bit behind my ears. ¡°Azure, that¡¯s in range of 2 and 4.¡± ¡°Yes Crimson, I can see that.¡± ¡°Also, two three seven is Ricks and Rollington.¡± My breath caught, my heart pounded. ¡°Shit. 2 is up.¡± A flick of the finger, and the small monitors swung closer into the center of my vision, taking up more of my line of sight. With a practiced mental relaxation, I let my eyes disengage from each other, each eyeball focusing on one set of screens. This sounds difficult, and really, it is. At least, training yourself to do it is, and I don¡¯t recommend walking like that. You¡¯ll fall. I didn¡¯t, for reasons that I won¡¯t go into. But you will. As hard as it is for every day life, for piloting drones, body held tight in a web of ribbon and cables, it¡¯s freeing. The blue spots on the main screen changed, yellow and violet. The glow around the monitors matched, and yellow took off with a twist of my wrist, the silent quadcopter disengaging from the top of a gas station awning, arrowing towards the squad car, and it¡¯s spinning lights that I could already see in the distance through the cameras of 2. A wry smirk and flick of my nose set the flight path, and then I narrowed my left eye slightly, squinting. The drone¡¯s camera zoomed in instantly. It was several miles away from me, but sometimes they felt like extensions of my body. I could see a tall man standing a few feet from the car, hands up. A long slim object in his hand slipped from his fingers to the ground as the directional mic fed me the sounds of screaming. Both doors of the car were open, officers behind them, guns pointed at the guy¡¯s head. From the scattering of light off the dropped object, it was definitely not a crowbar, but something wrapped in plastic. ¡°4 up.¡± A twist of my other wrist and the image on my right began to move as well. 4 was smaller, and faster, making quick time towards the scene. I looked closer at the man standing with his hands over his head, knees shaking in fear. He was well under six foot, dressed in a white button down and blue jeans. Clean faced, and I doubted he was old enough to need to shave. About the only thing matching the APB was that he was black. ¡°Crimson, you ready with the screen on 2?¡± I waited for the affirmative. Silence. ¡°Crimson?!¡± ¡°Are you sure about this Azure? I mean¡­ what if you cause the cops to panic?¡± ¡°Crimson, Ricks just got off suspension for the last time she shot an unarmed black man. Luckily he pulled through. Look at that face¡­¡± I zoomed in on the smaller of the two officers, a wrinkle of the brow taking a short video clip directly to storage. Her face was contorted in hate as she screamed at the man to get down on the ground, but keep his hands up and not move. ¡°She¡¯s war dancing herself up to pull the trigger. It¡¯s now or never. Just like we practiced¡± I didn¡¯t wait for Crimson to respond. I sucked in my gut, focused on the feeling of turning my right leg and popping the knee. The harness kept me in one place, hanging in midair, my thoughts and motions controlling the drone. No actual movement was needed from the waist down, cables and sensors on my arms, neck, and down my spine took the smallest twitch of muscle and nerve, converting it to commands, as I floated, suspended by wires. With the motions of the cameras, sometimes I almost felt like I was flying myself, not just watching from a drone¡¯s eye view. Blue and red lights flared up on the underside of 4, flashing along with a brief wail of a police siren. I watched the officers from behind, 4 hovering a good dozen feet away, ten feet in the air above them, and also watched their front from 2, still hovering silently in front and to the left of them. Ricks jumped a little, then visibly relaxed. ¡°Henry, I got him covered, who¡¯s with us?¡± Rollington turned, confusion on his face as he failed to see the squad car he had heard. The flashing lights caught his eye, and he looked up, nearly dropping his gun in shock. ¡°What the fuck!? RICKS!¡± She turned her head as I watched from two angles. It was a bit disorienting, but starting to feel natural after weeks of practice, having more than two eyes, and mobile ones at that. From 2, I saw her head turn, and jerk back with surprise. From 4, I saw her look me right in the eye, and panic. She stood, swinging her pistol around. I winked twice rapidly, and a bright white light flared. Both cops raised a hand to shield their eyes, guns pointing towards the ground. I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. A small part of my brain paid attention to the feel of dermal tape across my face, tracing the route of the signal it picked up from muscle movement, shooting to the brain of the hive being that I became while strapped in. The speaker on 4 activated, and I spoke. My words were translated in real time, converted, and sent to the drones, no longer my voice. Two voices in unison, a deep and a high one, not quite an even step of notes apart, discordant. I worked hard on that voice, not only to make it impossible to reverse engineer my real voice, but to make it¡­ creepy. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Officer Janet Ricks. The man is over six feet, and not dressed like the suspect you were told to watch for. Put your gun away.¡± A click of the tongue and the speaker was off. ¡°Crimson, on my mark.¡± The officers stood there a moment, stunned. Confusion quickly turned to anger, and Ricks swung her pistol at the light. Even knowing it wasn¡¯t really me, I had to fight back panic at seeing the barrel¡¯s dark center in my camera eye. ¡°What the fuck is this!? Get that drone out of here! This is¡± I never learned what she thought it was. A few deft movements and all the lights were on, bright spots directly in the eyes of the cops. At the same time, crunching, screeching, and wailing noises emitted from 4. I hoped it was enough to cover the sounds of 2. The microfiber screen deployed. This isn¡¯t one of my designs, or Crimson¡¯s. I admit to stealing this from an unrelated project. But it works so well. Arms dropped out of the bottom of 2, telescoping several feet in each direction. Weights along the bottom of the screen were shot towards the ground by pneumatics, the fans of the drone angling out to avoid ruffling the fabric while still staying upright. A line on my screen showed deployment was successful, the screen flat against the ground. The fabric itself was perfectly reflective on both sides, and stiffened under an electric current. Hair thin lights came to life as I activated Program NOTITS. From the cops¡¯ perspective, if they turned around, the man disappeared, the flexible organic sheet showing an image of the street, empty. His view was a bit different. He still saw the cops through the screen, an image of them at least. Overlaid was a bright scrolling text, accompanied by waving and pointing hands. ''RUN. They can¡¯t see, turn around, and run to the No Parking sign. Turn left.'' As the words scrolled, an image of the sign itself appeared, to make sure he had his bearings. He stood for a minute, blinking in confusion. Just as I was about to trigger a second message, he turned on his heels and took off. I watched from 2 as he made it to the sign, grabbing it in one hand to slow and spin him, before darting off down an alley that I knew led to a main street that had no other units approaching. Just as he reached the sign, Ricks turned, shading her eyes and waving her gun in the general direction that the man HAD been in. ¡°Shit, where the fuck, Henry, the fucker¡¯s gone!¡± He turned as well, and I cut 4¡¯s light and sound show, sending it zooming back to its base location. The lack of sound and lights was as much of an attention getter as the sound and lights had been originally. The human brain is a funny thing, it can program itself to ignore things very quickly, and while you no longer really sense them, you still know the moment they are gone. They spun again, and Ricks actually started running after the dark dot disappearing into the distance. I twisted fingers and bobbed my head, and 2 went dark as well, the screen rolling up into the unit with a zipping sound that I hoped would go unnoticed. ¡°Shit, there¡¯s another!¡± So much for hope. Rollington spun and aimed on instinct. A double wink of my other eye flared up lights, but not as strong as 4, 2 is made for the screen more than for distracting. Rollington squeezed off a pair of shots while squinting against the glare, and my sound feed from 2 went dead, the report at close range overwhelming the mics. The camera also flared bright in my vision from the flash. I hadn¡¯t tested them against gunfire going off nearby, something I would make a note to do later, once my adrenalin wore off. The camera came back live just in time to give me vertigo, the drone spinning in yaw. A sharp lift and twist of my neck both popped a vertebrae I hadn¡¯t realized had tightened, and sent the drone straight up. I wasn¡¯t sure if Rollington had actually nicked it, or if the passage of the bullet had simply been enough air pressure to screw with its flight, but it was spinning on a flat vertical, so it held position while shooting skyward, still spinning. I broke my eye away from the screen, my stomach threatening to lose the donut I had just eaten a few minutes ago from the motion. At 100 yards, I realized that the light was still on, and killed it. Taking full manual control, I slowed the spin and brought 2¡¯s flight stable again, just as 4 sent notification that it had redocked and was charging. ¡°Azure?¡± The uncertain sound in my ear reminded me that I wasn¡¯t alone in this endeavor. ¡°Crimson. Status?¡± ¡°I spotted the kid on 3, ducking into Covey¡¯s. He took off his jacket and tied it around his waist, bought a hat and a soda, and walked out.¡± I chuckled, wondering how my voice sounded to Crimson through the modulation on his channel, slightly less creepy than my Drone Voice, but no less impossible to trace my real voice through. Another thing I had never tested, how laughter would sound. Or sneezing, damn, what if I coughed or belched? I would have to test that later. ¡°Smart kid.¡± ¡°Yeah. I also had 12 on scene, a bit late to help, but, I got some great footage. Check it out boss.¡± I shuddered when he called me boss. It always annoys me, but I don¡¯t dare tell him that. Not while I¡¯m Azure. A spot on my monitor lit up and I focused on it. Grainy video started, 12¡¯s cameras weren¡¯t the best, being tuned more for nightvision. I watched Rollington pick up the object the kid had dropped. The camera zoomed in as he took a large bite of the partly unwrapped stick of jerky, and walked back to the squad car. He was popping the trunk as Ricks came back into view, having given up the wild drone chase. I could see them talking to each other, but no audio at this distance, as he pulled something out of the trunk and tossed it on the ground. My brain imagined the clatter as a slim rusty crowbar bounced twice on the blacktop before skidding to a stop. Rollington took another bite of the jerky , the large W on the wrapper catching the light, as Ricks took out her phone, taking a picture of the crowbar. She pulled out a pad to start writing notes as Rollington leaned over and started talking into his shoulder walkie. ¡°NICE catch Crimson. This will make some interesting online viewing soon.¡± ¡°Thanks boss. Also, status report on 2 says quad three fan is off balance. Did it get hit?¡± ¡°Not sure.¡± I typed in a few commands, and 2 zoomed higher into the sky, winging towards the middle of the city. ¡°I¡¯m sending it home, I¡¯ll take a look at it later. I think this was a first good run, no need to push our luck.¡± ¡°Understood, time to head home ourselves to dock and recharge.¡± I smiled at the metaphor, and flipped several physical switches. The harness lowered me into my chair, cables disconnecting, support wires retracting back into the mount hanging across the ceiling of the van. A few quick flips of fabric covered up the connector bands on my arms, and I took off the headset, pulling the buds out of my ears. Another switch flip, and a panel in front of me opened, my chair sliding forward on tracks to lock into place in the driver¡¯s seat before closing behind me. With the panel locked behind me, I forced the mental shift away from Azure, and back to myself. In a dusty, abandoned parking lot, a single worn sodium lamp swayed high overhead, the pale yellow light flickering across a white van. In the driver¡¯s seat, a figure sat, one hand on the wheel, one on a set of grips that attached to the pedals below. They squeezed the grips, releasing the brake, and with a light press of their thumb to push the accelerator, they pulled out onto a small local street, the whizzing headlights of city traffic a block ahead. The Blue Line 2: Keeping up with the Jonas Jonas stumbled into his front door, panting for breath. His heart was still racing, having ran the last four blocks home, stopping only when crossing the street at a light, desperate to avoid further police attention. The soda had been drained and left in a bus stop trash can, the cheap trucker hat nearly pulled free from his head by the self made wind of his dash. Door slammed shut behind him, deadbolt twisted like a ward against the Evil Eye, he finally let his mind wander back to the last half hour. ¡°JONAS! You home? Where¡¯s my M&Ms?¡± Leticia came around the corner, finger pointing. ¡°Jonas, what the hell, slamming the door like that? Where are my.¡± She came skidding to a stop, physically and verbally, her brother still clutching the door jamb behind him, staring into the distance and panting, his breathing finally slowing and growing more shallow. She waved her hand, snapping her fingers twice until he focused on her and followed her fingers back to her hand, her arms, her face. He blinked a few times, looking around. ¡°Leticia?¡± Standing up, he reached into the pocket of his jacket, hanging around his waist, and pulled out a small bag, chucking it at her. She caught it on reflex as it slammed into her chest. ¡°Here¡¯s your damn M&Ms. I almost got shot by the fucking cops getting them!¡± From the living room they both heard their mother shouting. ¡°JONAS! LANGUAGE YOUNG MAN!¡± A moment later there was a crash and she came hobbling around the corner, cane slamming into the ground as she stopped against the wall, grimacing in pain that was shoved aside for concern. ¡°Shot by the police? My baby, my baby, are you okay? What happened?¡± She paused for a moment, looking at his head, before snatching the hat off it. ¡°And why the hell you wearing that dumb ass hat?¡± Jonas started to reply, opening his mouth, but the words were crushed out of him along with his air as him mother grabbed him in a bear hug, squeezing hard before suddenly crying out in pain and letting go, one hand on her back. ¡°Momma, momma, I¡¯m okay. Here, lets get you back to your chair.¡± Jonas took her hand and started to walk her back. ¡°Let, can you heat up the beanbag?¡± Leticia nodded and darted into the kitchen, bag of chocolate thudding to the table with a muffled rattle. Jonas helped his mother to her chair, holding her hands as she slowly lowered into it. He could hear the beeping of the microwave being set, and the loud hum as it turned on. She mumbled and groaned lightly for a couple minutes, until the ding announced the cloth bag full of dried corn was ready. Leticia came into the living room with it and placed it against their mother¡¯s back while Jonas helped her lean forward, then back against the warmth. Jonas sank into the couch while Leticia stood, glaring at him. ¡°Jonas, you have about ten seconds to start talking before¡± Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Jonas raised both hands, ¡°Whoa whoa whoa, I¡¯m talking, I¡¯m¡­¡± He stopped suddenly, looking at his hands, and dropped them to his lap. He looked down and to the side for a moment, eyes shut tight. ¡°Jonas baby?¡± His eyes snapped back open and he gave his mom a wan smile. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m okay, I¡­ ¡° He shook his head, clearing away the linger shock as best he could. ¡°I was walking back from the corner store, eating a beef stick. And¡­¡± He faded out again, mind stuck back to the image of the guns pointing at him, the ragged thoughts, the desire not to die, the fleeting thought of, ¡®at least don¡¯t piss yourself, don¡¯t make no one clean that up¡¯. The drones in the sky and the holographic message. He reached the end of his memory and realized that he must have been talking the whole time, saying it out loud. Let and his mother were staring at him in horror and shock. Letitica had the hat he had bought in her hands, wringing it silently. She looked down at her hands and barked a laugh. ¡°Well, that at least explains your shitty choice in headgear, Tiny.¡± She held it up for him to see the big W emblazoned on the hat. ¡°I know you like the Waszkiewicz Beef Sticks, but being a corporate billboard just ain¡¯t your style.¡± He reached out and took it from her, laughing. ¡°Damn. I got like one bite of it too.¡± His mother was so stunned, she forgot to chide him for swearing. ¡°Flying cop lights, holograms? What in the world. Do... Do you think that made the news?¡± Let and Jonas groaned as she pulled the remote from a pocket of her chair, clicking on the TV. Jonas looked at his sister as their mother began flicking channels. ¡°Hey, thanks.¡± ¡°For what?¡± ¡°Those spy stories you used to read me at bed time. I thought, what would Bourne do? So I changed my outfit a little, put a hat on, bought a soda. Walked past two more cop cars, they didn¡¯t give me a second glance. Thanks.¡± Let reached down and tweaked his ear. ¡°Well, thanks for not getting shot. Momma needs us both, and dad getting shot at is more than enough for one family.¡± Jonas grinned in spite of himself and groan. ¡°Please, dad never got shot at. Closest he comes to bullets is pulling them out of Apache engines.¡± ¡°Hush, they¡¯re talking about drones, this might be you baby.¡± The Blue Line chapter 3: Tightening the News ¡°This was the scene, ten years ago tomorrow, at Johnny on the Spot gas station.¡± The deep male voice spoke over grainy security video, showing an officer pointing a gun at someone unseen, standing below the camera. ¡°Ma, this isn¡¯t¡± ¡°Shush!¡± Jonas and Leticia looked at each other, rolling their eyes. Once their mother was engrossed in the current news story, everything else faded away. ¡°A case of mistaken identity, and a split reaction of an officer in fear of his life, brought tragedy to one young man, and forever changed the life of another.¡± The view changed to another security camera in the same store, this one behind the officer. The image was cropped so that you couldn¡¯t see the person the officer was firing at, but you could see the glass front of a drink case shatter, a single hand rising up from the floor for a moment before crashing back down. ¡°ABT-67¡¯s own Karen Larson spoke earlier today to that man, Pierce Hawkins, at the corporate headquarters of his drone and security tech company here in Gryphon. Karen?¡± The image changed to a young woman standing in front of a desk, mic in hand. Her bright red hair was a sudden contrast to the black and white camera footage, and she beamed out of the TV at them. ¡°Thank you Bob! I¡¯m here talking to Pierce Hawkins, owner of Fourth Feather. Pierce, the last few years have been a bit of a renaissance for your company in regards to drones, and that''s created quite a few local jobs. What can you tell us about it?¡± She turned to the figure next to her as the camera panned out. She held the microphone at the level of his head, and looked down on him, but barely stopped herself from leaning down to get closer to his level. The man looked up at her from the lower position in his wheelchair, a touch of scorn on his face, at least the parts that could be seen past the large glasses he wore, wide bands blocking off a portion of his upper face. ¡°Please, Ms. Larson. You¡¯re not here to talk about drones. The tenth anniversary of the day I was shot is tomorrow. You want a piece about how, despite the tragedy, a hardworking citizen moved past being collateral damage in the murder of a young man. Hell, I bet you¡¯re even going to show the footage again like your station did last year. Just as long as they don¡¯t show him dying. That was crass.¡± Karen stood stock still a moment before training and self preservation kicked in. ¡°Mr. Hawkins, I don¡¯t, I mean, no, I¡¯m just hear to talk about your drone business. I¡­¡± Pierce looked straight at the camera. ¡°Tell you what, air the whole interview, including the next minute, and I¡¯ll play nice. GOT THAT BOB!? I bet they didn¡¯t even say his name. Just something like, ¡®young boy taken before his time¡¯. Well I¡¯ll say it. Everyone, remember the name Freddie McManus. Shot for the crime of holding a push pop.¡± He turned to look back at Karen. ¡°Everyone talks about me, because I survived. No one talks about Freddie. He would have turned twenty one a few weeks ago.¡± Jonas and Leticia glanced at each other, and back at their mother, leaning forward in spite of herself, glued to the tv. She chortled a little. ¡°Well damn. This guy ain¡¯t half bad. For a white man.¡± On screen, Karen was regrouping. ¡°Well, as tragic as it was, that day did lead to quite a lot of reforms in our Police Department, many spearheaded by initiatives you helped fund.¡± Pierce stopped for a moment, his lip raising in a half smile. ¡°Oh, you¡¯d like to think that. How many unarmed people were shot in the last year alone? Or beaten, or tased. Cuffed and choked unconscious AFTER being cuffed? With no proof due to those wonderful body cameras not catching anything.¡± Karen rallied gamely, ¡°Well, the department has been reporting numerous malfunctions with the cameras in the last couple of years.¡± ¡°Lies.¡± ¡°Mr. Hawkins, I think thats a bit unfair to insist on without¡± ¡°LIES!¡± Karen froze as he raised his voice a moment. He looked at her and sat further back in his chair. ¡°Sorry, but, they are lies. Ms. Larson¡­¡± He pointed a forefinger at her, then waved a circle, pointing at the world around them. ¡°We MAKE those cameras. Final assembly and testing is right here in this building.¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°You.. make the body cameras used by GPD?¡± Pierce nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right, we won the contract two years ago when the new oversight law added requirements for them that their previous vendor couldn¡¯t commit too. And I¡¯ll be honest, we¡¯re taking a loss on them. But I know its done right. The thing is, Ms. Larson, we use the same cameras we use in our highest end drones. They are shock proof, water proof, dust proof, and EMP resistant. We¡¯ve tested them on drones that run through a demolition derby, and we¡¯ve tested them near active firearms, to make sure they can stand the flash and pressure wave.¡± He looked up at Karen, motioning her to come closer. She leaned down unconsciously. ¡°GPD reports a failure rate of about 10 percent. The cameras fail 10 percent of the time they are supposed to be recording. Do you know what our failure rate is in testing, under conditions vastly more arduous than the average cop faces?¡± ¡°Less than ten?¡± ¡°Less than one one-thousandth. And when we ask the GPD to send us the faulty units so we can test them and figure out what went wrong? Well, they haven¡¯t sent us one back yet.¡± On that pronouncement, the image switched back to the studio. A blonde, well defined man sat in a suit, a sheen of sweat clear on his brow. The ticker underneath identified him as Bob Barder, Lead Anchor. ¡°Well, with that interesting assertion, we head into a quick commercial break. When we get back, Karen gets a look deeper inside the Fourth Feather operation. And later tonight, Could mold be growing in YOUR pipes?¡± Commercials began, and a large beef stick, a white W emblazoned on the wrapper, floated over a colorful background. ¡°Waszkiewicz Beef Sticks. Now in pepperoni, teriyaki, and bold barbecue. It doesn¡¯t matter how you say our name, with our meat in your mouth, it all sounds the same.¡± A large bite vanished from the floating stick with a crisp biting noise, and the voice over continued, garbled. ¡°Waszkiewicz¡± The trio stared at each other in amazement. Jonas was the first to speak up. ¡°How the HELL did they let that get on the air?¡± **** Earlier that day. ¡°CUT!¡± Karen made a chopping motion to her cameraman while looking at Pierce. ¡°How the hell do you expect the station to let that on the air?¡± Pierce chuckled as an older man ducked into the office through a doorway behind him. He called out, still looking at Karen, ¡°Robert, just the man I was hoping to see.¡± Robert stepped towards them, a small device held out in front of him. Pierce reached behind himself, still staring at Karen, and plucked it out of Robert¡¯s hands, bringing it forward to present to her. The device proved to be a small phone or tablet, and the screen lit up, replaying their conversation from a dozen angles. ¡°I daresay our cameras,¡± with that, Pierce tapped his glasses, two places on his chair, and pointed to three locations around the room. Karen whipped her head around looking at them, but was unable to spot any of the cameras. ¡°Are better than yours. If your channel DOESN¡¯T play that, along with the tour I am about to give you which is what they DO want for their ratings and message, we¡¯ll release this footage on YouTube.¡± Karen, forgetting the propriety that she had held onto, bent at her knees, nearing kneeling, while bunching her skirt in one hand to prevent it riding up. She looked Pierce dead in the eyes, voice lowering in volume and timbre. ¡°ARE¡­ are you trying to BLACKMAIL the news station?¡± Robert answered for him, his voice impeccably controlled and measured. ¡°Ms. Larson, you¡¯re making a spectacle of yourself. We aren¡¯t DOING anything, other than ensuring that our company and Mr. Hawkins himself are seen by the public in the appropriate light.¡± While Karen tried to find a response, Pierce folded his hands roughly under his chin, beaming an innocent smile at her. Then, with a quirk of his face that looked almost like a wink, the wheelchair whirred into life, turning around her, and moving past. Without looking back, Pierce called, ¡°Well, if you want that full tour and interview, come along.¡± She motioned to her cameraman to follow, and rising, smoothed out her skirt before starting to follow. He came to a sudden stop, and, still not looking back at her, motioned to the desk she was standing in front of. As he did, a device mounted on the wall lit up and spun, shining a small spotlight on the desk. ¡°Don¡¯t forget your notepad.¡± Turning back, she saw, spotlighted by the device, her notepad and pen, nearly forgotten on the desk in her haste. Picking it up, she hurried after him, the chair leading a quick pace out of the room and down a long hall. ¡°How¡­ how did you?¡± The Blue Line 4: Tightening the News 2 Karen walked down the long hall next to Pierce, his chair making a slight humming. ¡°Um, so¡­ you seem very passionate about¡­ police oversight?¡± Her voice rose on the last couple words, obviously not sure of the phrasing. Pierce gave a short bark of a laugh, his face remaining pointed in the direction he was traveling, even as the rest of his body language said he was looking her in the eye and paying attention. She found herself unnerved by him, years studying human behavior, body language, and such thrown for a loop by the sudden dichotomy. ¡°Police oversight. That¡¯s one way to put it. Passionate? No. Angry. Very angry.¡± ¡°I have to wonder, wealthy white man, owning a third generation business based in a well to do part of town, anger at the police is... ¡° She trailed off, face twisting slightly as she caught herself, thinking about how to finish the sentence. ¡°Would I be so angry if I hadn¡¯t personally had my life fundamentally altered? Careful Ms. Larson. That sounds a little more liberal than your station likes to hear.¡± His posture changed again, that feeling of looking her in the eye. As it did, she caught movement from the back of his chair. Looking closer, she shrugged away the feeling, as the area was smooth black plastic, and not near the two cameras he had pointed out earlier. ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right though. Much like so many celebrities take up causes for diseases you¡¯ve never heard of only because someone they love has it, my focus is definitely created. Oh, I suppose there are some things that would have come to my attention and I would have done the right thing. The issue at our docks last year, for instance. But all the focus on policing the police? No. All the research into making our technology helpful to wheelchair users and people in need of accommodation devices like myself? No, probably not.¡± ¡°No profit in it?¡± He laughed, full throated, and waved suddenly towards a window, a wave of greeting, not one designed to grab attention in that direction. He still didn''t turn his head to look, Karen noticed, even though he was clearly waving at someone outside his line of site. Looking through the window, she could see a woman in a lab coat and safety goggles working at some kind of machine, looking up at the ceiling and waving at it. Following the lab worker¡¯s gaze, she realized that a large lump was drooping down from the ceiling, a security camera of some kind. ¡°On the contrary Ms. Larson. The devices and technology we have begun producing are going to be amazingly profitable. Janet over there is testing several types of, well, plastic is the easiest word for them, to find one that has the flexibility and life we need for a joint used in gyro stabilization.¡± ¡°Gyro stabilization. Spinning disks used to help your drones keep down pointed down?¡± Karen started as the answer came from behind her, not in front. ¡°Yes, exactly. You don¡¯t want moody drones. You have to keep their attitude stable.¡± The dry, deep voice behind her reminded her that Robert was following as well, lined up just after her and the cameraman in their impromptu caravan. She frowned at him as the pun resolved itself in her brain, and he chuckled softly, his laugh just as dry as his voice. Pierce snorted in amusement. ¡°See, the particular gyro we use for our water line of drones has also proven to be perfect for artificial legs. But there''s a bit more weight and flex involved, so we need something strong to avoid making the part need to be replaced every few months. The legs though, once they¡¯re ready for market? We¡¯ll definitely profit.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Water drones?¡± ¡°Oh yes. One of the things we pride ourselves on is modularity. The same parts used a dozen different ways give us a dozen different drones. Right behind me if you would?¡± A large door slid open to their left, disappearing into the wall, and Pierce¡¯s chair turned to go in. Karen followed close behind, coming into a large meeting room with displays covering the center table and lined up on top of cabinets around the room. Karen realized that the segue was planned. ¡°You see, we have a variety of chassis; flying, swimming, rolling, and different motors and sensors to put in each.¡± Pierce pointed as he named the items, and each one lit up with a spotlight for a moment. Looking up, Karen spotted a lump like the one she had seen in the lab they passed earlier, with a ring of lights that lit up whatever it was focusing on. ¡°Not to derail you, but, are you looking through that camera right now?¡± Pierce paused in the middle of an obviously rehearsed speech about spray nozzles and their uses in both agriculture and underwater testing. ¡°Yes, yes I am.¡± Karen looked at him, then the camera, then the smooth patch of his chair where she had seen movement. ¡°You pointed out cameras in your office that I couldn¡¯t see, but these are obvious.¡± ¡°Well, these aren¡¯t for security. It''s useful for everyone to know where the person looking through the lens is staring.¡± ¡°Politeness, yes. Of course. But¡­ you¡¯re looking through all of them? At the same time?¡± ¡°Well, here, it''s better to show than tell.¡± He took off his oversized glasses, and handed them to her, turning his body for the first time to actually face her. She realized as he did though, that he was still not looking her in the eyes, as his own were tightly shut. ¡°Are you all¡± He cut her off mid sentence. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s just, very disorienting to break the view suddenly. It''s easier to just close my eyes for a minute. Here, don¡¯t put them on, just bring them close to your face.¡± She reached out to take the glasses, saying ¡°Thank you.¡± as soon as she had a good grip. He smiled, eyes still screwed tight, letting go of the glasses as she pulled them away from him and towards her own face. A dozen small images ringed the glasses when seen from this angle, with a larger image taking over almost half of what seemed to be a clear lens from the outside, but clearly wasn¡¯t to the wearer. She saw herself from several angles, watched herself move. Stifling a curse, she reached behind and pulled on her dress, freeing a wrinkle of fabric that had bunched up, likely when she knelt down earlier. ¡°So this is how you saw my notebook on the table. But... ¡° She handed the glasses back, pushing the arm against his waiting fingers to signal their return. He gripped the arms. ¡°Thank you.¡± With the words, he pulled the glasses to his face, falling easily out of her instantly loosened grip. ¡°But?¡± ¡°How do you focus on all that. And, the main screens, they were on the outside edges. And¡­ different images? Not stereoscopic?¡± ¡°Well spotted!¡± Glasses back on, Pierce turned his head and looked directly at her. She gasped and pulled back. His eyes were pointed both outwards, the pupils aimed in opposite directions. He looked, she thought, like a caricature of a cross eyed person. Or, maybe, someone doing a Peter Falk impersonation with both eyes at the same time. ¡°Sorry, that can look a little, weird. But it¡¯s quite a useful party trick. It takes some training, but the human brain is more than capable of focusing on and analyzing two different images at the same time.¡± ¡°How, how much training?¡± ¡°Oh, a few weeks really. And we don¡¯t dare let anyone wear these while walking around. We find you can focus on one main screen, a couple peripheral, and the real world all at the same time. But two main screens, and you tend to miss the ground and fall over.¡± He slapped the side of his chair, tap tap tap. ¡°As you can see though, I don¡¯t have that issue.¡± The Blue Line 5: Tightening the News 3 Pierce continued the lecture. ¡°While most people think of quadcopters when you say drones, that¡¯s of course just one popular method of making a flying drone. Most military drones are jets. We have a few models that are basically guided kites. Heck, we even had a model we were testing that was a blimp.¡± He shook his head, laughing at himself. ¡°A blimp? What would be the use of a blimp?¡± ¡°Networking mostly. A mothership of sorts with solar panels to recharge a fleet of smaller drones, and a system to communicate with them independently of normal methods of control.¡± Karen pursed her lips, about to question what he meant by ¡°normal¡± methods, but Pierce frowned at himself and moved quickly on, cutting off her question before it left her lips. ¡°There are certainly non flying as well, as I mentioned. Aquatic as well as wheeled or tracked.¡± Karen started to raise a hand, trying to backpedal the conversation, but Pierce cut her off again. ¡°Ahh, I know where you¡¯re going. No, we do NOT have self driving vehicles, and we aren¡¯t going to get into that arena at all. Other minds are already working on it, and I don¡¯t have to tell you the potential ethical minefield. I saw that you read ¡®STET¡¯ as well.¡± That stopped her, derailing her train of thought with a mental screech. ¡°Wait, what? Mr. Hawkins, have you been looking at my social media?¡± ¡°You mean I shouldn¡¯t do research on the reporter who is coming to talk to me about my company, as well as get a good soundbite about the police and race relations in our city? See what kind of thoughts she espouses and reflects from others?¡± He looked her in the eyes, with his own this time, both pupils pointing straight ahead as he cocked his head to one side, a questioning half smirk on his face. She found herself smiling back and tilting her head to keep parallel to his. ¡°Fair enough Mr. Hawkins, Fair enough. And yes, the kinds of calculations automated vehicles will have to be programmed with are enough to give me nightmares.¡± Pierce nodded, and with a twist of his wrist and nod of his head, spun his chair around back towards the door, which slid into the wall at a motion from his hand. ¡°Me too. People say that computers are faster and more logical than people, so letting them make these decisions makes sense.¡± He waited in the hallway as the team exited, the cameraman making one last pass at the displays of hardware before taking place in front of the pair, walking backwards as Pierce and Karen began rolling and walking forward again. ¡°Your tone suggests you disagree?¡± ¡°Absolutely. Gigo¡± Karen found herself doing a small double take down at Pierce. ¡°Excuse me? Did you just¡­ say giggle? Is that like the people who laugh by saying the word lol?¡± At this, Pierce gave a literal giggle for a moment. ¡°No, no. Gigo. G I G O. It means Garbage in, garbage out.¡± Karen nodded, ¡°Ah, yes, I¡¯m familiar with the phrase.¡± ¡°Basically, computers are as logical as the people that programmed them. There are plenty of academic articles out there detailing the sheer amount of programmed technology that operates on the programmer¡¯s bias. Recognition tools that don¡¯t work correctly for People of Color, scheduling algorithms that are basically an extended trolly problem, so much more. Quite frankly Ms. Larson, I believe that if a robotic cop was programmed by one of these Silicon Valley Tech Bros that laud automation and computers so much¡­ well.¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. He paused, both in speech and in motion, his chair stopping with a squeak on the floor. He touched his chest for a moment, just beneath his left breast. Karen paused, mouth half open, the slowly shut, realizing now was not the time to ask a question. Pierce drew a deep breath, slowly. As his chest swelled, a sudden beeping came from the chair, and a hiss as something under his jacket squeezed him. ¡°AHH haa. Whoops.¡± He looked up at Karen. ¡°Sorry about that. I got maudlin, and my chair, well. The injury I took can sometimes cause breathing issues, nerves short circuiting. It thought that I was having an issue breathing, and deflated me like a blueberry.¡± ¡°Does that happen often?¡± Pierce looked up at her directly, peering past the screens on his glasses. ¡°Getting maudlin, or the chair reminding me to breathe?¡± ¡°Both?¡± ¡°Well, maudlin, maybe once a month. The chair breathing for me, every few days. As I was saying though, I feel that if a robotic cop had been programmed by some of these people who feel computers think better, well¡­¡± ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be in that chair?¡± ¡°Partly right Ms. Larson. It wouldn¡¯t have been a single shot, and I would probably be in the ground as well.¡± He sighed, and Karen started as a hand put itself reassuringly on his shoulder. She looked over at Robert, having forgotten again that he was there with them. ¡°Well, we can thank our lucky stars that this is not Detroit, and OCP doesn¡¯t build the cops in our city.¡± Pierce put his hand on Robert¡¯s, squeezing for a moment. ¡°Well, if that bone shard was an inch higher, I¡¯d be eating nothing but baby food, so it evens out, right?¡± He started rolling forward again, the party moving down the long hallway. In the distance, Karen noted another person passing through a crossroads, cutting perpendicular to them. A moment later, the same person walked from another hallway several feet closer to them. Pierce raised an arm and called out. ¡°Janet!¡± The figure looked up from the tablet in her hands but was looking forward, not towards them, and waved back. She started walking faster, vanishing from view, then appearing again, closer, going the opposite direction. Karen blinked several times, and heard her cameraman muttering behind her. ¡°Oh shit.¡± Pierce mumbled to himself, glancing at Karen both himself, and with a camera, as she noticed another ceiling mounted blob rotate towards her. ¡°Janet, hold up, don¡¯t¡­¡± He trailed off as she vanished again, and the hallway in front of them suddenly jumped in a sparkle of colors and pixels, centered around a human sized lump that suddenly bent out of reality towards them. There was a thud and muffled swearing as Robert and Pierce both surged forward. Robert reached a hand to the floor, and suddenly the broken hallway seemed to vanish in a blur towards the ceiling, leaving in its place a similar hallway, with Janet sitting on the floor in the middle of it. Pierce rolled forward and held a hand. Janet looked up at him, and handing him the tablet, grabbed his chair along the armrest, hauling herself up. Pierce handed the tablet back as she brushed off her labcoat. ¡°You okay Janet?¡± She looked up at the line along the ceiling , a large roll of now off white fabric mounted there. ¡°Yes, thank you Pi¡­ Mr. Hawkins.¡± She caught herself, looking at Karen and her cameraman, and changed names midstream. ¡°That¡¯s the third time I¡¯ve fallen for the roadrunner trick in a month... ¡° The Blue Line 6 : Tightening the News 4 Karen looked up at the roll of fabric, and back at the pair. ¡°Camouflage technology?¡± Pierce, Janet, and Robert all grimaced in unison. Pierce spoke first. ¡°Yeessss. Um¡­ ¡° He pointed behind his head, directly at the cameraman. ¡°Mr, uhh... Wait. Did I ever get your name, sir?¡± The cameraman shook his head, looking back and forth between the pointing finger and the lens in the ceiling.. ¡°It¡¯s easier for me to blend into the background and do my job if I stay nameless.¡± Pierce tilted his head slightly at that, and his eyes grew the unfocused look that Karen now understood to mean that he was watching the cameraman from multiple angles at once. ¡°Yes, well, I¡¯m going to need you to back up and delete the recording of the last couple of minutes. Now.¡± Karen and the cameraman started speaking in unison. ¡°Now hold up man, ¡° ¡°Mr. Hawkins, that¡¯s a bit far¡± Pierce stuck his hands up. ¡°Not my call. This is a military contracted project that we are working on. You¡¯re not allowed to know it exists, and you wouldn¡¯t have if SOMEONE IN R AND D DIDN¡¯T KEEP PLAYING PRANKS WITH IT¡± He raised his voice to the air in general, as if talking to someone hidden in the room. Karen looked around in confusion. Janet came to her rescue, explaining. ¡°He activated an intercom, that aside just got blasted in my office and the research floor in R and D.¡± She looked back to Pierce. ¡°I apologize Mr. Hawkins, I¡¯ll talk to the team.¡± Robert cleared his throat. ¡°I appreciate it Dr. Fuller, but that should be Dr. Crichton¡¯s job. I can speak to him about it.¡± Janet looked away, abashed. ¡°It¡¯s not Dr., and you know it Wav, uh, Mr. Jewelham. And Bob¡¯s probably the one who put it here to begin with.¡± ¡°Not Dr. YET, and only on a technicality.¡± Pierce butted in. ¡°Give it a year, the new project won¡¯t screw you over. And that¡¯s Robert¡¯s point. It''s not a good idea for you to give your technical boss a dressing down.¡± Karen made a couple of quick notes in her book as Janet nodded, looking her up and down. Her eye took in body language that suggested she and Pierce were very comfortable in each other¡¯s presence when not in front of others, a similarity of stance and expression. Janet¡¯s long classic lab coat was covered with small stains and burns, her black wavy hair tied up in a bun. Her face was tightened in shame, red just starting to color her light brown cheeks. ¡°Anyway,¡± Pierce continued, ¡°We were giving Ms. Larsen here the tour. She¡¯s with ABT news.¡± Janet turned her gaze from Pierce to Karen, the ashamed expression twisting to one of annoyance as she pushed her safety glasses up onto the bridge of the nose. Karen raised an eyebrow as Janet took a step to move between her and Pierce, her body posture signaling defense of the man. ¡°Oh. Is it the anniversary again already? Trying for that human interest, oh, even in tragedy, look at what blooms, line?¡± Karen held up her hands, notepad dangling from finger tips. ¡°Whoa, whoa! I legitimately am here to report on a flourishing local company and what it¡¯s done for the community. I¡¯m not here for propaganda, and even if I was,¡± She nodded towards Pierce, ¡°He already derailed it in a way that the editorial staff are going to be hard pressed to handle.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.Janet continued to glare. Pierce put a finger on her elbow for attention. ¡°Janet, she¡¯s okay. She seems to be genuinely trying for a business piece, not bullshit, and we¡¯re obliging. Actually, that''s a great idea. After we¡¯re done here, why don¡¯t you two talk about the Fourth Feather Scholarship program? Since community involvement is a big part of the piece she¡¯s doing?¡± Karen perked up. ¡°That would be great! You¡¯re¡­ you run the scholarship program? You¡­ well, you look more like the lab type than administration.¡± Janet laughed while touching a small hole in the arm of her labcoat. ¡°Absolutely correct, I am the ¡®lab type¡¯! No, I don¡¯t run it in any way. I¡¯m one of the first year recipients.¡± Karen found her smile pushing through more as she looked Janet in the eyes. They seemed oddly familiar for a moment, but she pushed the thought away. ¡°Even better! Yes, I¡¯d love to get a half hour of your time later, if that¡¯s possible?¡± Pierce spoke up again. ¡°You can take her to lunch Janet! Company business, expense it!¡± Karen noticed that Pierce¡¯s gaze was again wandering off, while he was addressing Janet directly, his head was pointed in the opposite direction. Janet, not even pausing to glance at Pierce first, looked straight up at one of the ceiling lumps, smiling. ¡°Hindsight? You want me to bring back your usual?¡± Pierce nodded, smiling. ¡°Yes please. And a reuben with coleslaw for Robert.¡± ¡°Will do!¡± Janet looked back to Karen. ¡°I have a few things to finish up, paperwork to do, I¡¯ll see you in the lobby when you¡¯re done?¡± Karen nodded once, simultaneously excited for an extra angle on the story that hadn¡¯t been planned, and annoyed at being railroaded so obviously and yet effectively. Pierce motioned down the hallway and they continued on, Janet¡¯s footsteps quickly fading behind them. As the group passed the point in the hallway where the screen had been, Karen looked up, eyes following the line of the metal bar that seemed seamlessly glued to the ceiling above. A couple more turns led them to a wider hallway, a slow ramp of polished concrete with steel panels lining the walls, scars and stains on all surfaces. ¡°And here, Ms. Larsen, is the largest segment of the company, both in terms of employees and sheer physical size.¡± Pierce waved towards a pair of double doors, several feet wide each, stretching nearly twice her own height. The doors slid away from each other as they approached. Karen cocked her head, listening to the sudden whoosh sound that came with the movement of the doors, then realized that Pierce himself was making the noise with his mouth. She glanced at him, and he looked away, but this time she caught the motion and light up ring above, and changed the aim of her eyes to stare straight in the lens that was watching her. He gave a half hearted laugh. ¡°Sorry, you caught me. Some people say ¡®open sesame¡¯, I make the Star Trek door noise.¡± She nodded with a grin, starting to say something, when she looked past the doors, her words catching in her throat. They moved past the doors into what appeared to have once been an airplane hanger. Several large white vans were parked in various places, and the majority of the space was taken up with stacks of crates, workbenches, and drones. Dozens of active drones. Rolling, flying, hovering, they filled the space, jumpsuited workers with controllers putting them through their paces. As her eyes were drawn up, she saw a collection of rings and poles that appeared to be an obstacle course and above that, from the apex of the roof several stories up hung a small blimp, festooned with LEDs that shone down red now and again as it wavered in its mooring. The Blue Line 7: Tightening the News 5 Pierce spread his arms wide. ¡°Welcome, Ms. Larson, to the Bay.¡± Karen felt like her head was on a swivel, spinning this way and that. ¡°The Bay?¡± Pierce nodded, his large glasses glinting with the motion. ¡°Yes, the repair Bay! Not the only thing that we do here of course. But it¡¯s the big thing, in terms of money, time, and people¡± He started rolling forward, Karen following automatically. ¡°All the research and development that we do, all of the projects we fund... Finding new ways to use drones, new technological advances that we can monetize, that we can sell, none of it matters unless it gets USED!¡± He came to a stop in front of one of the many workbenches, this one empty of people, but with parts laid out, ready to go. ¡°This room is responsible for almost half our overhead, three quarters of our employees, and a good ninety percent of our income. We repair and upgrade our own drones, both those used in house, and those that we¡¯ve already sold to other companies. More than that, we will happily repair other companies'' technology, generally after warranties have expired.¡± Jotting notes into her pad, Karen felt herself getting a grip back on the interview. ¡°Drones used in house? Other than the ones that are being tested?¡± Turning away from her, Pierce waved an index finger in her direction. ¡°EXACTLY! We don¡¯t just sell our technology, we use it to meet the needs of our customers with expertise. We often get hired to do on site evaluations and surveys, as well as one time or short term use of our drones for other random projects.¡± He pointed across the vast room, and Karen followed his finger to a section that had several large shapes that slowly resolved in her view into clear sided water tanks, like an aquarium. ¡°Team Six currently has several of our aquatic drones on a county contract, examining underwater leakage of the Liet Reservoir north of town. Team One Two One is rewiring the Anderson building downtown. We have our people flying the drone platform, with waldos being run by outside electricians hired by the owners. They¡¯re removing and replacing old wire in conduits outside the building. Spaces it would be impossible to reach otherwise without building scaffolding around the entire block.¡± He paused for a moment, waiting for the sound of her pen scratching to slow, before starting to roll forward again. ¡°Of course, there¡¯s demo jobs as well, where a tech goes out and does a one time demonstration of one capability or another. Nothing like showing how quickly you can do a job with mobile robotics in order to get companies to purchase a fleet for themselves. And of course, our own R&D works out of here when actually field testing new designs.¡± Looking around, Karen realized suddenly that Pierce was far from the only person in the expansive room in a wheelchair. Far from a majority, of the few dozen workers spread across the room, maybe four or five, but still a noticeable number. Once again showing that he saw everything from every angle, Pierce grinde and gave a short laugh. ¡°Go ahead Miss Larson, I know you wanna ask.¡± Karen blushed slightly and looked down at him. ¡°So, do you make it a habit of hiring wheelchair users?¡± ¡°Wheelchair users? I see that you are up with the current lingo. Society and the media seem to change what we get called every couple of years. And, yes, but not for the reason you think.¡° Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Pierce continued forward, deeper into the room, Karen and her cameraman following behind. ¡°As you''ve seen, the entire building is accessible to me. Getting it that way was a rather large expense, both in time, money, and lost productivity. Really, up until two years ago there were entire wings I still couldn''t get into until we had construction workers come in to add ramps, widen hallways, update doors. But the main hub, the Bay itself, and most of the paths coming into it from the rest of the building? A lot of it already was technically wheelchair accessible, due to the fact that it needed to be accessible to dollies and pallet jacks and self mobile drones.¡° Karen nodded as they continued walking, several workers looking at the group and then looking up or over at the various cameras and waving. They went past several workstations, large benches covered with tools, most with a van or two next to them, and stopped in an empty bay, a rolling metal door nearby closed to the outside world. ¡°We don''t truly make it a point to hire people in wheelchairs. But the fact of the matter is, a lot of wheelchair users who are looking for work in this field, be it drones directly, or just simply industrial workers, repair people, as well as quite a lot of our R and D staff, find it very hard to find a company that will employ them.¡° Karen raised a finger, her face twisting in confusion. ¡°That makes no sense. While I could easily believe there is the occasional company that will find a pretext not to hire someone, the ADA does a pretty good job as far as I''m aware of preventing that kind of discrimination.¡° Pierce gave a harsh short bark of a laugh. ¡°Oh, the ADA. Yes, it does such a great job protecting people.¡± Karen glanced over at Robert for a moment as he made a discomforted noise, the look on his face one of tired resignation, as Pierce launched into the discussion with as much emotion as he had first addressed her with when they met. ¡°Of course no company is going to say ¡®we aren''t hiring you because you''re stuck in a wheelchair¡¯. What they WILL say, is ¡®Of course we¡¯ll hire you. But you have to understand that our four story building was built so many years ago, and with regulations for altering buildings of that age, and the cost of this, and the expense of that, we really don''t fall under the readily achievable category, and so we don''t have an elevator that would really work for your chair¡¯. Or they¡¯ll say we don''t have this or we can¡¯t afford that accommodation. They aren''t ¡®not hiring wheelchair users¡¯. There simply aren¡¯t any wheelchair users trying to get a job there, because they can''t physically work there.¡± Karen looked away, thoughtful and disturbed. ¡°I never thought of it that way, I guess Grandfather clauses bite both ways ¡° . ¡°Miss Larson!¡± Roberts voice cut sharply across the room, several of the workers stopping to look at the group, startled by the tone. ¡°First of all, to be completely correct, there is no such thing as a ¡°Grandfather clause¡± in the ADA.¡± Karen stared wide eyed as the older man continued lecturing, positive that she had actually HEARD the quotation marks around Grandfather clause when he spoke. ¡°There''s simply an allowance made for an expense to be considered ¡°unreasonable¡± for a company to incur. Otherwise, there is no exception for buildings to not be made ADA compliant based upon their age or any other factor, no matter how much other businesses may choose to suggest so.¡± He paused to take a breath, obviously not quite finished. Karen found herself nodding slightly in agreement, wide eyed and still partially frozen. ¡°Second of all, the term itself, Grandfather clause, is a rather disturbing term with a dirty history. As a reporter, I would highly suggest you not use it. While its a mouthful, the accepted term in business use is ¡®exemption for pre-existing allowances¡¯¡± The shock of the initial outburst wearing off, Karen began furiously writing notes. ¡°Dirty history?¡° ¡°Yes,¡° Robert continued dryly ¡°if you are unfamiliar with the origin of the term, I highly suggest looking it up when you have a chance. It does not mean what you likely think it means.¡° ¡°I''ll keep that in mind, thank you.¡° Any further attempt at conversation was interrupted by the grinding noise of the metal door behind them suddenly beginning to roll up, daylight reflecting through a slowly increasing slit in the wall. As it reached the top of its path, a white van, identical to the rest of the vans in the Bay, pulled through, coming to a stop next to the group. The driver''s window wound down, and a woman leaned out the window looking down on the group and smiling. Hair fell around her face in a shock of electric blue, all the brighter against a Mediteranian skin tone and the dark tone of large glasses, a duplicate of the ones that Pierce wore. ¡°Hey boss!¡± She called out jovialy, putting the car in park with a grinding of gears and cutting the engine. She yawned broadly and winked at him. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see you in this early!¡± The Blue Line 8: Tightening the News 6 Pierce spread his arms wide. ¡°Nadia! Likewise! I take it the calibrations weren¡¯t at fault?¡± The woman rolled her eyes with a smirk, rolling the window up before suddenly vanishing backwards into the van. Karen stifled a gasp, and looked back and forth between the now empty driver¡¯s window and Pierce, before the van¡¯s side door opened with a click and rumble. Nadia stood hunched over the driver¡¯s seat, which had rolled back into the main compartment and turned to face the door. She leaped down with a thud and a pair of clicking noises. Karen¡¯s eyes were drawn to Nadia¡¯s left knee. ¡°Nope. Our calibrations were perfect. The building measurements were off by six inches. Apparently it''s a long known and hidden fact that the entire building is out of square by THIS much.¡± She raised her hand, pinched her finger and thumb together with the slightest crack of space between them. Pierce cocked an eyebrow, turning his head to look directly at her. ¡°You got someone there to admit it?¡± Nadia straightened, cracking her back in an exaggerated motion. Karen¡¯s gaze was pulled from Nadia¡¯s knee as she found herself looking up at a higher angle than she was used to. ¡°HAH! Good one boss. No, of course not. Well, not until I had the measurements to prove it.¡± Pierce¡¯s head wobbled slightly in a motion that Karen had now grown to understand meant he was still looking directly at the woman, but through one or more cameras. Nadia, she noticed, was the exception to the staff in that instead of looking at wherever the nearest active camera was, she continued looking directly at Pierce, even if he was no longer physically meeting her eyes. ¡°Go on. I am on tenterhooks to learn how you managed to measure a two block by two block building to a tolerance of six inches.¡± Nadia smiled, starting to launch into an explanation, then stopped as she looked again at the reporter, cameraman standing behind her with the winking lense trained directly on her face. ¡°And who do we have joining us for the debrief today boss?¡± ¡°Ah, yes, Nadia, Karen Larsen, ABT news, and her Camera. Karen and Camera, Dr. Nadia El-Reyyes, Developmental Programming. She builds code on the fly for integrating different components, as well as getting devices to do things they were never intended to do. She¡¯s also my chief translator.¡± Karen tucked her pad under an arm for a brief moment to pump Nadia¡¯s waiting hand twice. ¡°Translator?¡± Nadia grinned again, an infectious smile that seemed to dare Karen not to smile along. ¡°In a manner of speaking. I make his code work for everyone else.¡± Karen looked toward Pierce with furrowed brows, a furrow that grew deeper as she recognized that she wasn¡¯t looking at HIM, but had already begun instinctually looking at the lighted patches on the top of the frame of his chair that she now knew were sealed cameras. ¡°I AM more than just a figurehead and business owners, Miss Larsen. I do actually have a degree in programming myself. Most of the technology I use daily,¡± at this, he raised his hands and spun the chair about without any form of control Karen could see, ¡°runs on code either written by myself, or modified from stock by myself. However, as exceptionally useful as some of the random things I¡¯ve cobbled together are, they are useful for ME and my specific hardware.¡± Nadia took back over the conversation without a hitch, ¡°Whereas I have found that I have a talent for making his specialized code more generic, so we can develop it for wider usage.¡± ¡°And sale,¡± Pierce finished. ¡°Moving on, Nadia?¡± She looked at Karen and the camera again, wary. ¡°Well¡­ I used¡­ the tertiary communications relays on the wall crawlers and a quad to create a measuring grid, and then ran them up and down each face.¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Pierce sat still for a moment, and Karen noticed the lights going out on the cameras both on his chair, and the one hanging from the roof pointed in their general direction. Nadia caught her glance and nodded. ¡°It means he¡¯s lost focus. Like someone¡¯s eyes glazing over when they¡¯re thinking hard.¡± Karen nodded in understanding as Nadia took a short step back, the clink drawing Karen¡¯s eyes again to the noisy knee. Nadia tapped it twice, then lower down on her leg, with a ringing of metal. ¡°Boss isn¡¯t the only one that writes code for his own assistive devices. I have some of the best balancing algorithms outside military hardware.¡± She stared at Karen, waiting for the followup question, but Karen simply nodded, looking back towards Pierce. Nadia made a low grunt that Karen wasn¡¯t sure was approval or disappointment, as Pierce and the cameras¡¯ focus came back to life. ¡°You realize you just jury rigged a guidance system into a large scale 3D scanner?¡± Nadia grinned widely, ¡°Yes, I do indeed. Already have a dozen ideas for scaling up and use cases.¡± ¡°Tertiary communication relays?¡± The cameraman spoke up, starting everyone who had gotten used to him being a passive presence. Pierce looked directly into the camera on the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Yes, well, trade secret, but not a big one.¡± He paused for a moment, moving his entire head to look at the blimp hung from the ceiling. ¡°Well, not technologically big. Don¡¯t worry about cutting it, or the clip ending up online somewhere. If someone manages to figure it out.¡± He stared back directly at the camera. ¡°Well, if YOU manage to figure it out, out there, you know where we are. Drop us an application.¡± A small buzz and beeping came from Karen¡¯s pocket, almost instantaneous with a small twitch of Pierce¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s 10¡­¡± Karen and Pierce started to speak in unison, trailing off and then laughing together for a moment. Pierce rolled closer to her, putting a hand out. After a moment, Karen took it and gave a warm shake. Pierce smiled, and spoke again. ¡°Well, our blocked out time is over, I hope you have everything you need?¡± Karen thought a moment, and nodded. ¡°Yes, I should have more than enough, and I still need to meet again with Janet later.¡± Nadia narrowed her eyes at this, giving Karen a sideways look that went unnoticed. ¡°Yes, and don¡¯t be afraid to order what you want.¡± He pointed at the Cameraman without looking. ¡°Both of you. Hindsight is run by some friends of mine, I¡¯m always happy to use support local businesses. So no skimping on dessert!¡± ¡°If I DO come up with any followup questions, should I just email your secretary?¡± Pierce nodded. ¡°You probably won¡¯t get any response from me today. I have a bit of work to do here, and then my weekly physical therapy that I put off to this afternoon for our meeting.¡± At this, Nadia¡¯s frown turned more neutral as she nodded, eyes widening in an AHAH motion. ¡°And then, I¡¯m going home and going to try and sleep and try not to dream about that day. You¡¯ll forgive me if I don¡¯t catch your segment.¡± Karen nodded as Robert put a hand firmly on Pierce¡¯s shoulder, squeezing gently. Pierce turned his gaze up at him, smiling. ¡°Robert, can you show them out?¡± ¡®Of course sir.¡± Karen and the Cameraman trailed along behind as he led them back the way they came. Behind her, she heard Nadia talking sarcastically to Pierce. ¡°Early to bed hunh? I half expected you to be out partying it up tonight, you old fuddy duddy. ¡°