“Did you know that the word robot came from the Czech word for forced labour?”
The man took a bite of his apple and hummed in acknowledgment before squatting down to peer at the bloodstain on the carpet.
“So you know it was an android that did this, then?”
Clark set the case file down on the table and walked over to the window, peering out into the dark. On the street below figures scurried like ants in a line.
He turned his back to the window and looked around at the interior of the apartment. It was a minimalist space, not from lack of money but from deliberate aesthetic choice.
It said the owner was wealthy in Clark’s file, but he didn’t need to read that to know that someone with an apartment such as this was rich.
“Ay,” Clark said, “It must have been. Our guy doesn’t have any family or friends as far as we know. Who would care if he died? He has money so what other reason would someone have to kill him?”
“I still don’t understand why the killer must be an android?”
Clark pointed at the gun in the body’s left hand, “Tell me who’s fingerprints are on the gun.”
The man looked at the gun, then, without moving his head he flicked his eyes up to Clark and nodded a short, quick nod.
“It’s late,” the man said, “Let’s call it a night.”
Clark nodded too and turned away to look out the window once again. “There is a rally tomorrow,” he said.
“Oh yeah?” The man said before wrapping his chewed apple core into a napkin and pocketing it.
“The slogan is ‘freedom is the right of all sentient beings’ this year. It’s silly if you ask me,” he continued, “Fucking toasters.”
The man barked a laugh before finishing the conversation with an “Amen,” as Clark swept out of the room.