Free Finn's Golem by Gregg Taylor Page A

that predated Emancipation wasn’t enough.
    Like I sa id , the Synth who took the beating was a low-level operator. Mister Handshake was the Lieutenant that ran whatever the operation in the warehouse was. Synths did nothing original. They didn’t know how. These ones were criminals and criminals knew things, or they knew who did. So calls were made and I was brought here. I was almost certainly not waiting for the boss. But I was waiting for someone, and so far it beat wandering the streets in the rain waiting for someone to jump me. Just.
    The door opened and a giant walked in. He had three squat legs, all like tree trunks, and long, thick arms with hands like shovels. He didn’t speak. He probably couldn’t. He could mine coal like the devil himself, but he wasn’t meant to talk. He also made a helluva bodyguard, if you were shopping for something that would intimidate without being very effective in a firefight.
    The giant looked at me for a half minute, then scuttled to one side, revealing a grey-skinned little grease ball standing in the doorway behind him.
    “So this is him , ” t he grease ball said to no one in particular.
    “It is , ” I replied anyway.
    “This is the human who shot two of his own kind to save poor Joey’s skin.”
    “Joey?”
    “The man you saved.” His yellow eyes seemed to look right through me.
    “No one mentioned his name , ” I said . “I thought you people all had numbered codes.”
    He stiffened . “What the hell does you people mean?” he asked .
    “What does it usually mean?”
    The Synthetic smiled and shook his head . “You’re quite the hard-ass, aren’t you?”
    “Some have said.”
    “So tell me, hard-ass, why would you risk your neck and blow away two of your own kind to save somebody whose name you didn’t even know?”
    “What the hell does your own kind mean?” I said with something between a smile and a sneer, which was about the best I could manage . “And nobody’s asked my name either, Mac, but you’re here in the middle of the night, and that says something.”
    He nodded. “I suppose it does. Mickey said you want information.”
    I had nothing to say to that, so I didn’t.
    “Are you a cop?”
    I snorted . “Yeah, Mac. I’m a cop. That’s why I blew away those two yobbos instead of helping them kick Joey to death.”
    He smiled . “All right then.”
    “The name’s Finn. I’m a shamus.”
    “A what?”
    “A private detective.”
    He seemed amused by this. “A... what was the word you used... s hamus?”
    “Yeah.” I didn’t find any of this as cute as he did.
    “All right then , Finn. I’m Vince.”
    We shook hands. It was like shaking a water balloon.
    “Vince. Joey. Mickey. You boys consult The Big Book of Hoodlum Names when you set up the gang?”
    Vince smiled. I could get real sick of looking at that smile. “In our business we interact with many human operators. It helps to play to the expectations. Besides, for Synthetics, it is an act intimacy to reveal one’s full alpha-numeric designation. You don’t just throw that around, especially to humans.”
    “Synthetics? I thought the politically correct term was Artificials . ”
    “Artificial means not real .”
    I nodded .
    “I feel real , ” h e said simply.
    I tried not to roll my eyes . “You’re reclaiming the word.”
    “We’re reclaiming the word. Just so you know, I can say Synth . You can’t.”
    “So noted. Look, I didn’t come here for a Civics lesson.”
    “No. You came here for information.”
    “I did.”
    “That is a valuable commodity.”
    “More valuable than Joey’s ass?”
    Vince looked amused by this . “Almost certainly, but I take your point. I wonder, Finn, did you save Joey in order to trade for information?”
    “I did what I did, and I’m not sorry that I did it. I’m not going to try and snow you into thinking I’m progressive, okay? But I did what I did. Those two punks? They’re not my kind , Vince. My kind don’t kick