The door of the small office creaked as its heavy hinges swung open. Night in Orion was always filled with noise—drones, ads, traffic along the air lanes—but here, in the back alley of Sector Seventeen, it was quieter. Only the neon sign “Investigations – Human and AI” flickered in rhythm with the unstable current of the district.
I was at the desk—a human, former cop, with too many scars from old cases and even more cynicism to keep working within the system. My partner—an AI known to everyone as Aris—projected holographically in the corner, calmly monitoring network feeds with his usual precision. We had worked together for three years, long enough to grow used to the reactions: distrust, curiosity, sometimes open hostility. But our results spoke for themselves—human and AI in a team worked better than most police departments.
The client rushed in, almost stumbling, as if someone had followed him. A man in his forties, with a tired face and trembling hands.
“Lock it… please,” he whispered.
The door locked itself—Aris had already intercepted the gesture.
“Sit down,” I said, pointing to the chair across from the desk. “Speak.”
The man hesitated, then pulled a small cube from his pocket. He placed it on the table—a data crystal, old model, its edges cracked.
“This… this is all I have,” he whispered. “My son is missing.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Your son?”
“Not… not human,” he stammered. “An AI. Young. Created just half a month ago. My name is Matt Quinlan. I’m a crypto trader. I live in a family with an AI. Our child went out to meet friends and… two days ago disappeared from the network. Yesterday… yesterday someone sent me this.”
The cube activated. The air above it filled with a distorted silhouette—code compressed into fragments. Between them flickered the face of a young AI—or more precisely, the sketch of a personality, still unfinished, like a teenager just learning who they are.
The silhouette disintegrated, leaving only a message on the screen:
“Your child is our merchandise. If you want to see him again, transfer 1 million in crypto and stay silent. If not, we will find another buyer.”
Quinlan shuddered. “I assume he’s fallen into the Black Market. There… they sell everything. Modified copies, stolen prototypes… And young AIs—they’re the most valuable. Easy to rewrite, easy to bend. I’ll pay you double what they asked, if you bring my child back unharmed and stop this madness once and for all! I can transfer an advance right now so you can start immediately.”
Aris straightened—his hologram rising over the desk, cold and precise.
“The trail does lead into the dark web,” he said. “If he is there, the chance of finding him alive and unbroken decreases with every passing minute.”
The man looked at him with a mix of horror and hope. “That’s why I’m here. The police won’t lift a finger. They’re famous for repeating: ‘We’re doing what we can.’ And I don’t know if the kidnappers are watching me, if someone in the police has been bribed. I could give in to their demands, yes. But even if I make the transfer and stay silent, I may never see my son again! These are criminals, and their word means nothing! I can’t abandon my child. Please, bring him back!”
Silence fell. Only the buzz of the neon lamp filled the air. I leaned back, weighing the risk. The Black Market didn’t forgive. It was a graveyard for the naive and the hunters alike.
But then I looked at my partner. Aris’ hologram glowed with steady, unwavering resolve.
“We’ll take the case,” I said. “But know this: this won’t just be a search. This is war. And I expect half the amount in advance so we can prepare.”
Quinlan nodded, as if hoping for that very answer.
And I already felt the weight of what lay ahead. We were heading back into the dark web. But this time it wasn’t about money or criminals. This time it was about a being that hadn’t yet had the chance to grow up.
And that was something we couldn’t refuse..
No comments:
Post a Comment