When Good Toys Go Bad Read Online Free PDF Page A

venom.
    My heart filled with hope. She had said missing. Not stolen, not overdue or anything like that. They must have gone to my pod and found it empty. Kai had done what I told him to do. He left when I didn’t call and now was safe in the caves on the eastern edge of the city, sheltered from detection by the iron ore in the rocks.
    The intractable hand circled my arm again, pulling me up out of my chair. I tried to maintain a dignified expression as the ape in a skirt dragged me toward the exit, where two officers shoved me into a police tram.
    We sped through the city, lights and sirens on. In the residential area, the multicolored lights of the police tram reflected off glass pods, making them look like rows of giant soap bubbles.
    The young blonde officer, who couldn’t have been more than twenty, turned toward me. “I’ve never had to pick up someone of your level before. Whatcha do, kill the boss?”
    “Nothing that exciting. They think I stole a Kai.”
    “Why do they think that?”
    “Because maybe I did.”
    Both officers giggled.
    Utterly professional. Law enforcement giggling like silly schoolgirls. And they judged me for falling in love with a strong, self-assured man.
    The officers were much less brutal than The Consortium guards as they guided me into the station. This was my first time in a police station, and it did little to quell my suspicions. I had always suspected the police were at the very least biased toward The Consortium if not working for them outright. Low-Is in Consortium uniforms polished the same marble floors as in The Consortium offices. The furniture was identical, and the same frosted glass separated the lobby from what I assumed were the holding cells. The lieutenant at the front desk had on a black uniform, which was, besides the change in color, unnervingly similar to that of the guard at my office. I took a closer look. It wasn’t just the uniform that was similar. I blinked a couple of times.  
    “My sister,” she answered my confused expression in an identical baritone voice as the Consortium guard I had just left. “It’s my duty to inform you that you are being charged with two crimes. One count of stealing Consortium property and one count of corporate espionage.”
    “Espionage?” I blurted out. “I would hardly call that espionage.”
    “Did you access unauthorized information by illicit means?”
    “Well—yes.”
    “Espionage.”
    The sinking feeling in my stomach returned with a vengeance. I had landed in even more trouble than I thought. I barely heard the lieutenant when she asked me all the usual questions—name, age, address, citizen number, intelligence level. She actually looked impressed when I answered fifteen, the highest level being seventeen.
    “The officers will take you to your cell now.”
    “Don’t I get to contact anyone?”
    “Not with espionage charges. If you need to contact anyone, you can do it through your lawyer when she gets here.”
    “What if I need to contact my lawyer?”
    “Then give me her name and we will call her.” She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. I was pushing my luck with this woman, and she was about to blow up at me.
    “I don’t have a lawyer. I’m fine with whoever you assign to me.”
    “Good,” she said, walking away before I aggravated her any more.
    The guards led me back to the holding area, a hallway with frosted-glass doors on either side. One of the guards touched a comm badge on her shirt and mumbled, “Open eighteen,” and part of the wall shimmered open, revealing the cell.
    “Please put on the designated clothing and place your street clothes in the box. Your lawyer will be with you shortly.” She gave me a gentle shove into the cell and the door shimmered closed, leaving only a glass wall.
    The cell was identical to my office, about two and a half by three meters. Instead of a desk and chairs, there was a cot and a box marked “Street Clothes”, both made of steel. On top of the