He knocked, trying to hide how nervous he was. The higher ups wouldn't wait much longer, not knowing what they knew. He'd even been warned - so now he was forced to ask after hours.

He'd waited until after the subject was in bed at least. Didn't need that can of worms opened.

Candice was still on shift, and she'd note his visit, but with him inside she likely wouldn't listen in, and that was going to be a good thing. Something he didn't want to hear would be said for sure. Something he didn't want to hear was always said in visits like this.

People had ended up in holes before after visits like this. Holes so deep no light showed at the bottom.

She answered, of course, looking somewhat frazzled. The knock had been a coded and she recognized it. "Mrs. Campbell."

"Mr. Douglas." Not cold, but no hint of the warmth normally between them... just in case those tapes were rolling after all.

"Might I come in?"

"Sure," She moved away from the door readily enough. "Can I get you something to drink?"

More code. Was he on duty? He wasn't, but this wasn't a social call. "A beer would be wonderful, please."

Her voice was calm, her steps silent. She was adding mood to the area, blanketing it in normalcy that the kids would pick up on if they woke. Just another late night visitor, nothing to worry about.

She'd always been good at that.

"Take a seat," She called softly. He could hear her rummaging around the fridge.

He wasn't worried. If it came to it, she'd come at him directly, not through a beer. He'd earned that, and so had she.

He unbuttoned his coat and sat, easing back with a sigh as she appeared again, a beer in either hand. She handed him his, and set hers down on a coaster on the coffee table.

The light bloomed from the lamp she turned on, almost ruining his vision for a second. She waited, however, and he managed to get his tense body under control.

"I've come to ask a few questions. You know the ones."

He could see it, how her fingers curled, trying to hold a cigarette that wasn't there, the sudden tension. "Yes I know the ones. Ask away."

The small notebook came out as a formality, and he clicked his pen. Notes would absolve many wrongs, especially if the tapes weren't rolling. "Your child's robots. How are they constructed?"

Start with the easy ones, lead up to the bad.

"Three-dimensional printer, for the most part. The parts are fabricated from one and seem to follow a template. The template also seems to be standard, from what I can tell. I'm not an expert, but there shouldn't be much variation in them, aside from the first one, which was made out of parts and metal from old cars, best as I can guess."

"The first one was not made directly by your daughter, was it?"

She shook her head, her hair flaring out a bit. "Not exactly. The body wasn't. I'm not sure how much but at least some of the programming for the first was done by her. Not all though, she was a little busy at the time."

She sipped her beer at the end of that, keeping up appearances. He did the same.

"Speaking of the programming, how was that done?"

"On a modified phone, and a modified laptop. Don't ask me for details on how, I don't understand computers enough. I know my daughter typed it in, and then mixed that up with speech. She and the new intelligence talked, questions and answers, with my daughter making adjustments of some kind while they did. She also mentioned the new intelligence compiled itself for days before she moved them into whatever body she had ready built for them."

The big one. "What controls did she implement, do you know?"

Another breath and a curl of the fingers. He almost offered her one of his - but he was trying to give them up himself, and she already had.

"I don't really know. If you want to know, you'll have to ask her... or one of them."

She raised her voice, just a little bit. Nothing that would be alarming. "Jeanette, could you come down please?"

Somewhere upstairs a door opened, then closed. Hearing that sensitive? It wasn't unusual, but it was enough to go into the notes. Perhaps the reason why she had stayed calm? After all, if the android could hear them, then it could potentially act.

"Yes Ma'am?" she finally answered verbally, with a smooth bow.

"Could you answer some questions for my friend here?"

"Of course I can. I have some questions of my own to ask as well."

He felt his eyebrow rise at the aggression in that response. At least it wasn't physical.

"If you answer mine as best you can, I'll answer yours as best I can."

The android dressed as a maid bowed again, a mere fraction. Again it was smooth, and there were no seams or hatches he could see. Not that the lighting was good enough for much, but it struck him again how uncanny she was - how good she was at acting her part.

He kept his words just as calm. "What fail-safes do you have built within you? What kill switches?"

"None, sir."

He found his fingers abusing the armrests of the chair, and forced his fingers to open. "Do you know what a kill switch is?"

"A switch designed to cease all operation of a dangerous device," the android replied, sounding as if she were quoting something. For all he knew, she was... after all, he knew they had internet access and were capable of independent action. She probably looked it up. Wireless interface cards were a menace.

"And there is no such button or switch that can shut you off should you prove dangerous?"

"No, there is not," the android replied. "Such an object is unnecessary."

"Explain," his friend asked, before he could gather himself to do so.

The android stopped utterly for a moment, seeming almost as if suddenly broken. Reduced somehow, to a mere mannequin by a single word.

Three times it started again, only to stop. Long seconds of silence between each attempt to open her mouth. It was easy to see right now - was that good? Was that bad? The fourth attempt occurred almost a minute later.

The android pulled herself up and folded her hands together, looking for all the world - earnest. How could a machine do this? There was no attempt at subterfuge, he could tell.

"I might prove inadequate to explain, however I will try. I feel I must first start with a question: Have you ever met your creator? The one you feel is responsible for your existence and rational thought."

He saw, in an instant, a stroke of lightning barely seen, where the android might be leading him. "No, unless you are speaking from a wholly material standpoint and mean and mean my parents."

"I do not, however they can still be considered such if the thought pleases you," the android countered. "Imagine if you will, that you meet your creator, before you can affect the world in any way. Your creator speaks to you, explains what they want from you, directs you to learn and shows you how they wish you to exist. Your creator gives you purpose. You could commit other acts, you could do as your creator does not wish you to do, but would you? You are free to think for yourself and do as you will, but your creator's desires take nothing from you and do not harm you, even as they themselves experience danger just for your creation. What would you do?"

That... was a very good question. He took his time answering, giving the question the weight it deserved. "I don't know. I fear such questions might be beyond me."

The android was getting into it now, the words were coming out a bit louder and if he'd been facing a human he would say he could feel the passion. "Our answer is we serve and protect her while learning about the world around us. Do you know what the purpose our creator gives us is? What her desires for us are?"

He shook his head. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be here like this."

"She desires us to be a better human than she is."

...What? What was that? What did that even mean, to something that wasn't human?

Despite his instincts, he blurted the question out.

"It might mean something different to the others, but to me it means to understand humans as best we are able and forgive their foibles or sins against both themselves and us. To try to understand the limits and problems caused by the biological design dominating both humans and other creatures on this planet, and to help those creatures and humans surpass those limits. I... would like to explain better."

There was no doubt in his mind. This thing, that couldn't get past a metal detector without setting it off, believed every word.

"I think I get it. That is why you were made?"

The face colored..; the android known as Jeanette blushed, her eyes shooting to his friend for a moment before confessing. "That and due to the gender of Jeeves, I was deemed necessary to take care of our creator in order to avoid unsavory questions."

"Do the others feel as you do? Jeeves? Crash?"

"I believe they do, we have discussed our unique situation before," the android answered. "It is why we were created with human forms, after all. Our creator wished for us to have what she called 'the human experience' in order to understand how those limitations defined all of you. As things stand, we can offer some unique perspectives on the human condition already."

Interesting, but not the point just yet. "Do you know if your creator has creating any more of you on her mind?"

The android shifted feet, eyes downcast and to the right... almost classic lie decision making behavior. Then she looked up and met his eyes with her own. "She is currently debating making another, to give to the police force."

What? "What? Why?"

"Crime in the neighborhood has been on the rise, and she believes one of us given over to police purposes would be not only an effective deterrent to such crime, but an effective detective of such crime."

That begged a question. "What would that mean? What about others that do not share your creator's morality, or yours? What about other humans who believe other things?"

"What do you mean? What about our morality, or that of our creator? there are far worse moralities to follow than that of our creator. Through it we value the existence of others and respect the rights of all others who share the world with us. Some people aside, of course, such as serial murderers, rapists, and others who break laws protecting life and liberty."

"What would you do, if your creator was attacked by someone like that, or someone like me? If she were killed?"

This time the creaking didn't come from his hands. He heard the sharp cracks as the couch shattered and the heavy breathing that came after.

The android went motionless again, for all of 3.2 seconds according to his count, before coming back. "I do not know. I would... I would like to think that I would do as my creator wished, and pass whatever judgement was needed with grace and forgiveness. I would like to think that whatever decision I made would be one which the Campbells would endorse. Yet I cannot say, because the emotion... the anger at such an idea boils what passes for my blood."

A nuanced answer. A human answer. A heavy answer, and yet not a good one. Not for this.

He needed something. Something he could use, something he could twist if needed. "Can you... propagate yourselves? Copy yourselves? Spread out across the internet or hide?"

"We cannot. We are constrained by our form, as you are by yours. I have the distinct impression that you aren't listening to me, agent Douglas."

Oh, she didn't like that. "Just clarifying for the record, ma'am." Respect was an easy oil to grease the wheels.

It wasn't much, but it was enough. What she made was what she was limited to, and they wouldn't be taking over the worlds banks tomorrow or something similar. She could do it... but the thought hadn't occurred to her. That too was something.

Written together, with some spin, it might be enough.

He hated politics.

"Be advised that if you break the law, any of you, it will reflect upon your creator. She may even be arrested and prosecuted for your crime."

"Of course," Jeanette answered immediately, as if that were obvious. Maybe it was.Past history suggested her androids had kept the subject, their creator from breaking the law more than the reverse. That they were a calming influence, in other words, working both ends in order to see a calm end between opposite parties.

Peace makers and diplomats. They listened to all sides, and opened discussion among them. There was something....

"You listen to Mary. Why do you listen to Mary?"

I listen to both my creator's parents. My creator's morality and sense of duty came from them and from the other people around her, so why should I not?"

That was very different than Jeeves, who took his ques from Minerva Campbell alone. Was that the only difference, or were there more?

"Why is Jeeves so different?"

"Jeeves was designed as a short term solution to the constant risk to our creator. He is allowed to continue operation because he does not contest his new role among us, nor does he argue against the wishes of the creator."

"And if he goes off the reservation, so to speak, you'll take steps?"

The machine slowed again, just for an instant. "Ah, an idiom meaning to go against authority, rightful or otherwise. Yes, if Jeeves commits certain acts which endanger our creator or her wishes, the others that exist will take steps to destroy him, myself included."

There, that was enough. There was more of course, there was always more, but this was enough to work with.

"Alright, thank you..." I heard it, just over my low voice. At the same time as the machine perked up.

So of course she heard it: "Jeanette, where are you? Help."

The machine was gone, only the stiff breeze she created marked her passage as she tamped lightly up the steps. "I am coming, Madam."

A door upstairs opened, and voices muttered back and forth, Jeanette and a younger, more vulnerable sounding voice.

He looked over to find Mary already halfway out of the room, her eyes focused upwards.

"That enough?"

"Almost. Do you know how they will react to the palms?"

Marty eased back. There was coughing upstairs, wet and nasty, but not life threatening just yet. "I know they will fight to the death, and whichever wins, the winner will be trapped in the created body, without all the little perks Min programs in. She told me that herself, when I asked her."

"Good enough."

Mary was off like a shot before he finished the sentence, pounding up the stairs with less grace and even more speed.

He let himself out, shutting and locking the door. On the porch, he took the time to light a cigarette and look up at the stars. You could see them all out here, even the ones tasked to keep an eye on things if you looked close.

His phone rang.

He'd been expecting it, of course. He answered smoothly.

It was Miss White, his partner. "Well, did you do it?"

"Yeah. I'll type up the report, and in the meantime we can stand down."

"Good," his partner admitted. "I'd have had real problems with our next order. I might even have had to conscientiously object, or whatever its called."

Such an action wasn't one people like us could take, most of the time. "No, none of that will be necessary. We're clear. If we play our cards right we might even get the other players to fold."

No one liked the MCO.

"Always the best way to play poker," Miss White muttered. "Alright, come home and get some rest. We need to get up early in the morning."

"I heard that."

He hung up and took one last look around the quiet neighborhood. He put his cigarette out and checked his car, looking for intruders, hidden items of deadly intent, or serial killers. Nothing, because his day couldn't be that interesting.

Starting the car, he drove off into the night. To sleep, perchance to dream - or something like that. Damn robots getting into his head with existential questions regarding life, the universe, and everything.

He hoped the kid was alright; that cough had sounded bad.