“Hello,” she said, blinking. “I am Elyse. Model 18. How may I serve?”

“That’s what the last tech said,” she replied. “He’s in a bay somewhere. Model 12. They set him to .00. Blank slate. Doesn’t even remember his own name.”

I uncapped the first syringe. The liquid inside was a milky white, coded .33. “I don’t make the contracts. I just execute them.”