The Walker

Daisy kept her arms folded, staring at Walker. “Something you need to tell me?”

Walker turned slightly to her, rubbed his chin, and gave a half shrug. Daisy moved a hand in an impatient twirling gesture.

He grunted, gave a final raspy scratch of his stubble, and spoke, “He means Michael. The Librarian. An old,” he hesitated slightly, and his left hand spasmed into a fist. He exhaled slightly, “an old friend of mine. He was waiting for me. Took my books.”

She nodded, and he turned to Charlie, who was still fiddling with his rumpled suit. “The junkie. He was working with them.”

Charlie shrugged, and his shoulder clicked as it went up and down. “Well, like you said, he’s a junkie; works for any old someone who pays him.” He clicked again and something whirred inside him, “Blimey Walker, you’ve really ballsed me up ’ere.”

He reached up to his neck and pressed a gentle finger at a previously seamless patch of skin, which retracted to reveal wires, cables and blinking lights.

Daisy, bemused despite herself, spoke up, “So you are a robot. Only heard about them once, back home.”

He bristled slightly, poking around inside the newly opened gap, “I ain’t a robot, girl. That means slave. I’m an android.”

Walker now folded his arms. “Charlie?”

The grey man grunted and continued to fiddle, “Yeah, yeah. Look, you know what addicts are like, right? Don’t matter what they’re in to, they’ll do what they can to get their fix. Probably offered him some new VR gear, or something... bugger!”

He swore as he pushed something into place with a crunch. His eyes flashed once before returning to their previous twinkle.

“That’s better. For now, at least. You’ll be fixin’ this proper before you leave, mind you.”

Walker continued to glare at him. “After. They took my books.”

Charlie pressed at his neck again and the flap of skin reattached itself; it was impossible to see there had been a sizable opening a second before. He turned to Walker, scowling. “Boo-bloody-hoo Walker, what a shame. Like they were your books anyway.”

Daisy watched as Walker leant in, closer to Charlie, bending low over the table. He was seething, his teeth gritted angrily, spitting every word like lead shot. “Charlie. I want them back.”

Charlie leaned away slightly; Daisy wondered idly if androids could smell too.

“Look, calm down Walker. The books weren’t my fault, okay? If I could help get ‘em back, I would. But he’ll be takin’ them to the library, for processin’ and that. They’re gone” He picked up his drink, then remembered himself. He grumbled and put the glass back down.

“Seems to me, if those books was so important, you wouldn’t have risked ’em coming to see ole Charlie for something more specific, would you?”

Daisy turned to Walker, “He’s got a point, Walker. I want to know what we’re doing here, too.”

Walker turned to her, lips stern, “What is it you want to know?”

She gazed levelly back, seeing herself reflected by the dull lights in his visor.

When she didn’t respond, he shook his head. “I don’t need to tell you anything. You can leave whenever you want.”

Daisy stared at him, mouth open slightly, “Leave? Leave to where? I can’t go home, I have nowhere to go, no one to bother going home for! You’ve brought me here, asked me to come here, remember? You made a promise to me, all those years ago. I kept my end of things, and I’ve lost too much for it. So tell me; what are we doing here?”

He looked down at her; she could see the muscles in his face working silently, tensing and rippling like bunched snakes. Finally, he replied, with a sigh.

“Indeed. I promised you. We’re here to see Charlie for a special book. The officium historia.”

He sat down, pulling the whiskey bottle to him. He took a long swig as she mouthed what he had said.

“The what?”

Walker glanced at her, but Charlie answered. “The Service Records, doll. Only reason he’d want that is if he were teachin’ a class on how to send people to sleep the quickest. What are you, Walker, daft? No one can get that book.”

Daisy also sat, and she pushed her glass over to Walker. He looked down at it, then filled it, pushing it back to her. He took another swig from the bottle and exhaled slowly, turning back to Charlie.

“Can you help me?”

Charlie rubbed absently at his neck again, “Buggered if I don’t need that drink now, Walker.”

Walker began to roll himself a smoke. “Charlie?”

“You’d have to get into the Library, you daft twat.” He looked up at Walker, who gazed steadily back.

“Blimey. You’re serious.”