Interruption
Sam had decided that he was never leaving the house again,
and the robot butler had fully agreed with him. Not that it had a lot of choice,
but Sam wouldn’t let a little thing like a lack of free will deprive it of an
opinion. That only made the pounding at his door that much more annoying.
‘What?!’ he yelled yanking the door open.
Standing there with his hand still poised to knock again was
the landlord. He lowered his hand, his face flushing red with embarrassment
before he drew himself up, ‘Mr. Weiss I do not allow robots in my building, not
that I know why someone like you needs one.’
‘Someone like me?’ Sam quirked an eyebrow.
‘You know someone who clearly just sits on his butt all day.
You probably get all your money from your parents or the government. Look at
you still in your boxers.’
Sam quite openly reached under his white vest and scratched
his stomach. ‘You’re boring me here Mr. Samuels, and there’s nothing in the
lease that mentions robots.’
‘Forget the lease. I make the rules here you little punk,’
he shot back.
‘Goodbye Mr. Samuels,” Sam said slamming the door in the
landlord’s face.
He was just sitting down in front of his computer, when the
door startled rattling again under someone’s knuckles.
‘Unbelievable,’ he muttered under his breath.
He opened the door again, and this time found himself
looking down the barrel of a sawed off shotgun. He raised his head and met a
crazy pair of eyes; they were red with huge pupils like they couldn’t get
enough light but the hallway outside was well lit.
‘Where… is.. it?’ the face behind those eyes stuttered.
‘Where..is..what?’
‘The merch….the drugs….the rock.’
Sam ran a hand through his hair and yawned, ‘Oh, you want
the apartment down the hall, 305.’
The man holding the gun looked confused for a second, then
nodded his head, ‘Th..anks.’
‘No problem,’ Sam said closing the door again.
He returned to his chair, and began loading a single player
war game, when his door started vibrating again. He turned to look at it, then
at his computer screen then back at the door before sighing and getting to his
feet.
‘What?’ he asked, opening the door.
A middle aged man with a salt and pepper beard and wearing a
blue suit waited outside. ‘Hey Sam get dressed we got a case. Apparently
there’s some junkie running around offing dealers for their drugs.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, the boss wants us on it,’ the man answered trying to
peek past Sam into his dark apartment.
‘Give me a second, I’ll be right out,’ Sam told him before
closing the door. ‘Giles get my clothes out,’ he called out to his butler.
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