REPLICA
A short story by Hickory Cole
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PUBLISHED BY:
Replica
Copyright © 2013 by Hickory Cole
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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Things couldn’t have gone worse for me in the past twenty-four hours than they have. Everyone is breathing down my neck looking for answers I don’t have. Six billion dollars is missing, and the trail ends at my feet, but I am the only one who knows that at the moment. All they know is that the money has gone missing, and I have been tasked to uncover the culprit behind the largest embezzlement scam this company or this nation has ever seen. The thing that confuses me the most is that I didn’t do it, yet the evidence leads straight to me, and time is running out for me to determine what really happened before everyone else realizes what I have uncovered.
My boss, Jack Reiker, chief comptroller of McGregor Biomechanical Systems has asked me to quietly run the investigation to uncover the corporate saboteur that has put our company on the brink of financial ruin. I am the chief internal auditor for our firm. I operate with almost complete autonomy, which has bought me the amount of time I have had so far. What is most baffling is that there are several layers of controls between me and the accounts that were affected. Pulling off this egregious act would have taken an incredible effort on my part, a virtually impossible feat of deception. At least I have that working for me at the moment. No one would ever suspect me. But this will only last for a few more hours I suspect. The longer I go without revealing the culprit the more likely the company will be compelled to bring in outside authorities to investigate. Once that happens I will be fitted for my bright orange coveralls.
Jack has been in and out of my office all day, understandable given the circumstances, but it is making it virtually impossible for me to dig deeper into this mess without him seeing the mountain of evidence against me.
Jack is hovering over my shoulder now, asking for an update.
“Paul, what is taking so long to get to the bottom of this? I need a lead…something…and soon, very soon. We have to be very careful about how we dig ourselves out of this mess. We can’t afford a misstep.”
“You mean you have to be careful about how you dig yourself out of this mess.” I can’t afford to let him see me crack. My best defense is to be aggressive.
“What are you saying? Are you implying there is evidence pointing towards me? I didn’t do anything, Paul. Surely you know that.”
“I’m not implying anything. But you are the chief comptroller, and this happened under your nose. I need time Jack, and you aren’t helping me by breathing down my neck.”
“Fine! But as soon as you know something, you let me know.”
“I will, Jack. I’m trying to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible. You need to let me do my job.”
Jack leaves without feigning any pleasantries, and I immediately return to digging into the files that have my virtual fingerprints all over them.
McGregor builds high functioning cybernetic organisms, human replicas, which are deployed in a wide variety of fields, from deep water arc welding to domestic service units. I have discovered a leak in our inventory where over twenty nine thousand completed units have disappeared over the past twenty weeks. That number represents almost eighteen percent of our total inventory over the same period. At a cost of two hundred and fifteen thousand dollars on average, the financial impact could bring our capital ratios to levels from which we could never recover.
My only hope is to track where these units actually are today, a daunting task given the precision of the efforts taken by the mastermind behind this operation. I realize there have to be several accomplices inside McGregor so I decide to start at the bottom of the organization and head out to the manufacturing plant on the east side of town. I’m careful to not let Jack see me leave my office. I leave explicit instructions with Debra, my secretary, that I will be down in computer archives for the next few hours and that I don’t want to be disturbed while I am down there.
I make good time travelling across town, a significant detail given the ticking clock hanging over my head. I stop at the reception desk to request an impromptu meeting with the current shift manager. Instead of resistance I am surprised by a warm greeting.
“Good afternoon Mr. Reynolds. How are you doing today?”
The receptionist seems to know me, but her face is unfamiliar. I try to suppress the look of surprise on my face. “Fine, thanks for asking.” I scan her desktop and find her name plate. “Jessica, I’d like to see the shift manager.”
The young woman smiles. “Bob Locker?”
“Yes, can you call Bob and tell him I’d like to talk if he has a moment.”
As she makes the call to the back office, she keeps looking at me with a sheepish grin. “You know,” she says. “You are a lot taller than I thought you would be.”
I glance over and spot my picture among the two dozen other top executives hanging on the wall. Maybe that’s how she recognized me. I nod uncomfortably and return an awkward smile.
Within a few minutes Bob is standing in the reception area with me. “What can I do for you Mr. Reynolds?”
I have a folder that I brought along with me and begin leafing through it, pointing out several invoices that stood out when I tracked them in our inventory system. Bob simply nods as I explain what I am looking for. He leads me onto the manufacturing floor, back to his office where we can further discuss my concerns in private.
Bob’s confused smirk on his face turns into one of concern as I review the list of questionable invoices. “Mr. Reynolds,” he finally interrupts. “I’m not sure where this is going, but all of these invoices you are asking about are the very ones you gave us explicit instructions when filling them. We processed them just as you indicated and forwarded all the paperwork to the special file per your directions.”
I stare at Bob. “Me? I told you how to disposition all these invoices?”
Bob simply nods, unsure what I am up to.
I am struck dumb. I haven’t set foot in this building for three years, never met this man before, yet he is telling me I have been directing him all along. I suppose that’s what the paper trail indicates, but I have never met Bob, spoke with him on the phone, or sent him an email. There is something that isn’t right with Bob. I stare into his eyes, looking for a crack in his story. Something is off, but I can’t put my finger on it. And then I see it.
McGregor makes very sophisticated cybernetic units. Over the past ten years they have fine-tuned them to the point that they are indistinguishable from their human counterparts. A McGregor butler unit has the look and feel of a real live butler, complete with a human interaction interface that enables them to blend seamlessly into their environment. But there is one definite way to identify a McGregor unit, a small holographic logo etched into the edge of the iris of the right eye. At first I didn’t notice it, but there in the bottom corner of Bob’s iris is the signature trademark.
“So how long have you been in service?” I ask.
Bob stares at me with a confused look. “In service… I’ve been with McGregor for twenty three years.”
I scoff at his answer as I begin to closely examine Bob. “That’s impossible, you are far too advanced.” I l
ean in close to Bob studying him in close proximity. “Have you been upgraded recently?”
Bob is visibly uncomfortable when I abandon the normal personal space buffer afforded between two men having a casual conversation. He recoils when I poke his ear lobe with my fountain pen. “Uh… I was promoted five years ago to shift manager.” He refuses to sit still as I examine him. “Could you please stop that?”
I sit back, perplexed by the concepts of comfort and personal space embedded into Bob’s programming. It is uncanny how lifelike he is. I realize based on his answers and his behavior that he may be programmed to think he is human.
“So are you married Bob?”
“Yes. Twenty two years.”
“Do you have any children?”
Bob motions to the pictures on his desk. They feature a young boy and a young girl. “Two kids, David and Allie. Fourteen and twelve. These pictures are a little out of date.”
I sit there amazed. This unit is far more advanced than any McGregor unit I have ever seen. But I am unsure what this means. What is the significance of Bob being a cyborg? How is he involved in the cover-up of the embezzlement scheme and who is ultimately behind it all?
“Bob, I’m sorry. I left my laptop back at the office. I want to look at one of