Page 65 of Perfection

Chapter Fifteen

One enormous building in an old section of Chicago housed the manufacturing plant for Global Dolls, Inc. In the age of robotics and androids, most manufacturing was accomplished by machines. Humans were reserved for management positions as part of the Androids Act of 2056.

As York drove through the check-in station, the computers automatically picked up his and Cal’s police ID implants. The synchronization of computer data made it permissible to enter any building at any time. Regulations were different between a private residence and a company. With a private residence, he’d use his wristband ID, while a company would require both.

York waited for the van with the tech team to pull in behind his vehicle. He went to the driver and gave quick instructions for the team to wait while he and Cal cleared the way. They headed for the main office.

For all the warm fuzziness the doll manufacturer portrayed in its ads, the building was cold and sterile: slick gray walls with steel doors, no windows or inviting plants lining the walkway. York was used to such buildings, but they were not his favorite. He guessed he’d just anticipated more from a children’s toy manufacturer.

He and his brother marched side by side up the walk. Once they were close enough to the entrance, the double doors automatically opened, welcoming them inside. In the foyer, a very tall, thin man greeted them from behind the reception desk. He looked GEI—A Generation, York guessed, by his height and age. In most cases, the worker bees—those supervising the machines and androids—would be Coders, and management would be made up of GEIs.

The receptionist’s dark eyes narrowed when Cal mentioned the reason for their visit. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

York and Cal looked at each other. “He’s going to get the boss,” York said.

“He didn’t say that, but I agree.”

“Well, look at that. We agree on something,” York muttered. He let his gaze wander around the cavernous entry.

“My goodness, what an unexpected surprise!” At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, York turned to see the receptionist had come back with another GEI in what looked like a more expensive suit. The newcomer stood, closed fists on his hips, and demanded, “What could possibly bring you to Global Dolls, officers?”

York had little patience for pissing contests. “You already received the warrant. We have a crisis on our hands. Operations must be halted until further notice.” He drew his H-pad from his pocket, ready to take notes.

The man pulled himself up taller. “On whose authority?”

York gave him a tight smile as he stepped forward, glancing briefly at Cal, who bared his teeth in a similarly false grin. “If you’ve paid any attention to the news, then you’re aware of an illness affecting D Generation. Evidence shows that the virus might be linked to Global Dolls. We’re here to find out how.”

Cal inched forward. “And until we do, no dolls go out. Period.”

The man gaped and sputtered, but held his ground. “You can’t be serious. That will cost us billions.” At York’s glare, the man snapped his mouth shut. “We’ll see what the directors have to say about this.” He spun on his heel. “Come.”

The bottom line was that the police had the authority to haul every last employee out the door and freeze all production. The problem was, citizens rarely remembered that detail. It had been so long since such a move had been employed in the corporate world—perhaps sixty years or more—it made sense they were meeting with less than total compliance. However, the longer this took, the longer it would take to find answers.

York had anticipated resistance and had acquired the necessary documentation. The man led them not into a boardroom, but instead to a cafeteria. The odor of pork tenderloin and cabbage teased his nostrils and his stomach churned as he looked at seated workers. He checked his watch. Indeed, it was past noon. Lunchtime.

All eyes fixed on the men as they entered. York introduced himself and Cal. At least they’d be able to clear half the people in the facility in one clean sweep. York didn’t bother waiting for the GEI suit to break the news. “Ladies and gents, I’ve been sent to acquire your cooperation. I’m sure you’ve heard of the D Generation virus. Evidence shows that Global Dolls may be a source of the contaminant. We’re shutting down the plant until we can gather more information and eliminate it as a health threat.”

A short, dark-haired woman spoke up. “How long will that take?” York judged by the quality of her suit she was management of some kind.

York thought of Brianna and her dolls, of poor little Isabelle. “Until we’ve taken a sample from every doll, every nook and cranny in this place, and ruled out any sign of the virus.” He removed the communication device from his pocket and called up a hologram with instructions to the employees and owners of Global Doll, Inc. With a swipe of his finger over the control, he waited for a display to materialize. It didn’t. Nothing. He repeated the steps. Still nothing. Damn. He missed his QuL. He was on his own.

He took a deep breath. “There is likely a glitch somewhere in the process. What I can tell you is that everyone needs to leave the plant. Now. My team will take samples from every doll and every piece of equipment, then have it all tested. If everything comes back clean, then it’s business as usual for you tomorrow.”

“And if we don’t cooperate?” the apparent boss said.

“Then we will lock you in that room over there.” Cal thrust his thumb in the direction of a door across the hall for emphasis. “Your choice.”

The workers glanced at one another. Finally, the dark-haired woman nodded. “Okay. Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Gather your things and take the rest of the day off, and let us get to our job,” Cal reiterated with a shake of his head.

York could tell by the set of her jaw she didn’t like it, but she said to the employees, “You heard him. Let’s move.”

A man with shoulder-length blond hair separated from the group and walked over to York and Cal. “Are we in any danger of contracting whatever this is?”

“I don’t think so,” York answered. “It seems to only affect D Generation children.”

“My son is D Generation. My wife has been monitoring his health.”