Free There's Only One Quantum by William Bryan Smith

himself in a doorway, balled up and laying close to the floor and making himself into as small of a target as possible. The hovercar moved swiftly then, finishing its assault, and speeding away.
    He lay on the floor for some time after that, listening. The monotonous night-noise of hover traffic returned, and with it sirens.
     
    “So let me see if I have this straight,” the detective said, looking down at his e-notebook. His name was Jansky.
    Coe had provided a statement, speaking directly into the dictophone of the e-notebook. It automatically transcribed his statement.
    Jansky read, “And then this—cell-bot, is it—its head turned into a robot bird and flew away?”
    “That’s correct,” Coe said, shivering in the night air as it rushed in through his smashed windows. He’d attempted to put on his robe, but it had been reduced to rags as a result of the gunfire.
    “I see,” Jansky said. “And this is related how?”
    “I’m unsure it’s related at all,” Coe said. He was hesitant to tell the police anything at all, since it could prove detrimental to his position with Quantum and as a co-conspirator of Steele. But, he needed to give them something since a machine-gunning of his apt could not be kept secret.
    “What is it you do again, Mr. Coe?”
    “I work for Quantum.”
    “Uh huh,” Jansky said. “Doing what?”
    “Marketing research,” he told him, a loose version of the truth.
    “Sounds interesting. Any idea why someone would want to do this to your apt, or better yet...to you?”
    “No. No one.”
    “No enemies?”
    “Just the cell-bot.”
    “The one with the bird head?”
    “The one with the bird head,” Coe said.
    Jansky looked around the room, at the walls riddled with bullet holes, and the floor covered in glass. He whistled. “Sure pissed someone off.”
    “I don’t even know anyone,” Coe said. “I’ve been in the city a week.”
    “Maybe a case of mistaken identity,” Jansky said, speaking into the dictophone. “I hope you’ve got insurance.”
    “Now what?”
    “We’ll file a report,” Jansky said, preparing to leave.
    “That’s it?”
    “Do you know how many people live in this city?”
    “No.”
    Jansky grimaced. “Me, neither. It’s a lot, though.” He scratched his forehead. “Maybe someone saw something...there’s always someone moving down on the streets below. Whether they’re willing to help someone with a cushy job in a cushy apt so many stories up it’s halfway to the moon, well...that’s anyone’s guess.”
    “What about tonight?” Coe asked, following Jansky and two other policemen to the door. “Is it safe to stay here?”
    Jansky laughed. “Unless your friend with the robotic bird head returns, who’s going to get you up here?”
    “Someone just almost did.”
    “There’s your answer,” he said, and walked out.
     
    “I took the liberty of first cleaning up,” Ms. Hunter said.
    “You didn’t have to go through any trouble,” Coe said, setting his overnight bag down onto her floor. Behind her, he could see she had placed a sheet, a pillow, and a flannel blanket onto a sofa. He felt both relieved and disappointed. Ms. Hunter was in a pink bathrobe and pink slippers; her legs were bare. In the muted amber light of her apt, her hair looked almost red. It was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore small glasses.
    She said with a wave to the sofa, “I trust it will be suitable for you? If not, you can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
    “I’m just grateful you could accommodate me.”
    She blushed. “I’m honored.”
    “Stop it.”
    “How awful, Mr. Coe. When you told me the news, all I could think was that you are all alone here. I want you to know, you’re not alone. Quantum is like family to me. You are welcome to stay here as long as—”
    “Property management assured me they’ll have the glass replaced by tomorrow.”
    She smiled. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” She leaned in suddenly and embraced