Disclaimer: ‘I, Robot’ and all related media, merchandise and trademarks do not belong to me and I am not making any money from using them in this fictional work. They belong to their respective companies and I am not affiliated with them in any way whatsoever. Any original characters or concepts in this story that are from other fictions are used with direct permission from the authors in question.

“Silver and Gold”

Chapter One
Instigation

Del Spooner walked down the street with his usual hunched swagger. He was on police business, of course, seeing as it was only two in the afternoon on a working day, but he was not in the mood at all for a case today. He had an irritating headache, which was preventing him from concentrating, and here he was, having to be nice to a victim of family-related homicide.

He pursed his lips as a voice in his head reminded him; it’s your job.

Yeah, he admitted to himself. But my job has its downsides. Wasn’t exactly planning to save the world last week, for one thing.

It did somewhat annoy him, to a certain extent, that he hadn’t even got a tiny mention in the news for the destruction of VIKI. USR’s lawyers had been quick to inform the press that VIKI, the villainous AI computer that had started the ‘robot revolution’, had gone haywire and, due to an unforeseen factor, been granted self-control – however, the First Law had eventually ‘caught up’ with he, and she had self-destructed, as robots were programmed to if they disobeyed any of the Three Laws.

It hadn’t gone down particularly well with the public, but certain members of USR were desperate to get the company up and running again, and were determinedly persisting.

Dr Susan Calvin, for example.

Sighing deeply, he stopped at the doorway of an apartment block in downtown. He pressed the buzzer in and waited impatiently.

Calvin had returned to work almost immediately to meet with the USR management – the founders and lawyers that were incredibly rich. Now that both Robertson and Lanning were dead, they had listened to her quite willingly for want of a better leader, and they were eating out of the palm of her hand. However, they still hadn’t seen the surviving security footage of VIKI’s last few hours, and he wondered how they would react when they noticed a particular robot that had accompanied Spooner and Calvin.

His thoughts were interrupted when a woman opened the door and Spooner gave her what he hoped was a convincing and sympathetic smile. She was about five foot eight, with mousy hair, cut into a bob and vivid, bottle green eyes. He guessed that usually she would have been a fun and interesting person, but her face was pale and she seemed very drained. Spooner held up his police badge and nodded to her.

“Are you Ms Joanne Holden?” he asked her and she nodded. “Detective Spooner, Chicago Homicide. I’m here to talk about the…uh…death of your husband, if you’re not too busy.”

Joanne smiled weakly. “Do come in, Detective.”

He walked in and she shut the door behind him almost silently before leading him into the front room. A small baby was asleep on one end of the couch and he carefully sat at the other end as it gave a tiny sigh in its sleep. Spooner looked up at Joanne, who handed him a silver mug of tea. Tea was something he really could not abide but he took a polite sip so as not to offend her. He looked up at her and she sat down on an armchair.

“Would it be alright if I asked you a few questions, Ms Holden?” he asked gently.

“Of course, Detective,” Joanne said politely. “Anything that can be of service to help find my husband’s murderer…” The word seemed to have a rather bad effect on her as she drew a shuddering breath and tried not to burst into tears. She sniffed and said shakily “What would you like to know?”

“Your husband was the co-manager of the XOLA computer line, was he?” Spooner inquired.

This was the part of homicide investigations that he really did hate – questioning the family or close friends of the victims. He always felt like he was prying into their private business, and it made him feel awkward, especially when they started crying, as they too often did.

“Yes, he founded it in 2027 with Andrew Preston,” she confirmed. “The two of them were great friends and business partners; they’d known each other since Harvard, where I met him.”

“And he never did any shady deals in this company, or spoke to anyone oddly on the phone?” he questioned, and her expression became perplexed, her brow creasing and her mouth turning down into a frown. “He never said anything about being in trouble?” he persisted doggedly, not wanting to leave without at least a snippet of information to help him with this case.

Joanne paused to think about it for a moment. “No. Never,” she admitted finally after a few seconds. “That I know of, at least.”

Spooner felt for her. Her husband, Brian Holden, had been found the day before this in a dumpster. He had been shot twice in the head before all the money and items of value that he had been carrying had been stolen. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The coroner had decided, after completing the autopsy, that it had happened after Brian was dead, but he had been branded, too, with an old-fashioned branding iron – branded with the letter ‘S’, right on his stomach, leaving a horrific, festering burn.

He had been revolted to hear that, whether the poor guy had been dead or not – branding was sick, a practise long since abandoned by the civilised world. It made people seem like… animals. Like something to be owned. But he had a strong feeling that the person or people that had done this to Brian weren’t making out that they owned him, but that they were… warning someone. Warning people of what they were capable of.

“Do you think there’s anything helpful you could tell me at all?” he persevered determinedly, using a calm, coaxing voice.

“All I can say, Detective Spooner, is that my husband was a good man,” she said sadly. “He would never have done any deals with bad people; he wouldn’t have done anything – anything – that deserved the hideous death he got. Also I know for a fact he would never have consulted any new clients that could have done this without asking Mr Preston beforehand.” She paused for a moment before she continued with an edge of irritation. “In my opinion, he’s the one you should be asking questions.”

There was a short silence and then the baby began to whimper, beating its fists at the air in apparent annoyance at being awoken so rudely. Joanne approached the child and picked it up. Spooner couldn’t help smiling. In the years he had been married to Marci, the two of them had never had children, nor wanted any, but when he saw Joanne with her child he felt almost wistful.

The only thing that might come close to having a child now was…well…Sonny. He pushed it aside – this was official business.

“What’s the name?” he asked curiously, motioning towards the baby. There was no harm in a bit of friendliness to make people talk.

“Her name is Stephanie,” Joanne said, looking into the child’s large blue eyes, still not changed from birth. “I had her just before Brian died…” A tear fell from her eye and landed on the baby’s soft cheek.

Spooner felt distinctly uncomfortable. Where the hell’s Calvin when you need her? She’s the shrink, not me! He stood up abruptly, deciding it was time to go now. “Thank you for all your help, Ms Holden,” he said sincerely. “Another officer may be coming round some other time to ask a couple more questions, if that’s alright.”

“That will be fine, Detective,” she said softly. “Goodbye.”

Spooner couldn’t get out of the door fast enough as he shut it behind him and stepped back into the busy downtown street that Joanne Holden lived on. He was relieved to find that his headache had gone. He had just realised that he’d skipped lunch, so he smiled to himself. John wouldn’t notice if he slipped round to Gigi’s for a quick slice of pie, he could just say he got held up at the Holden household. Grinning to himself, he jogged down the street towards his grandmother’s apartment building.

“Del Spooner, you are not fooling me. Come out, boy!”

Spooner groaned loudly and stood up, revealing himself to his grandmother, a small, wrinkled old lady who Spooner affectionately referred to as Gigi. She had looked after him since his parents had been killed and now that he had his own place she still cooked sweet potato pie for him, which was his childhood favourite. Spooner was not an overly talented cook himself, to his grandmother’s undisguised disappointment, but she was terribly proud of his police career, although she became sick with worry when she heard of the crimes he was investigating. She put her hands on her hips.

“You listen to me, Del – you will never get to my prize pie without my noticing, I always know when you’re a-coming. Now what are you doing here at a half past two on a Tuesday? Am I gonna to get a loud call from a certain John Bergin?”

“No, Gigi, I just popped in to grab some lunch,” he explained, slumping into his favourite chair at her table and seizing a giant serving spoon with something like gleeful anticipation on his face. “I’m investigating the sorta case that makes ya hungry after all that concentration, y’know?” He gave her a persuasive, lop-sided grin, but her face immediately fell.

“And what is this case you’re investigating, young man?” she asked him a little sharply, worry clutching her as she sat down opposite him. “It had better not be anything dangerous, I wouldn’t have nobody to cook for!”

“Aw, it’s nothing dangerous for me, Gigi,” he shrugged. “You read the paper this morning? It’s the death of that guy from XOLA, Mr Holden.”

“Ah, XOLA the computer company?” she asked and he nodded. “Good, I see I am on top of some modern companies. I wouldn’t be a-prying into those sorts of things, but you’re an officer with your big shiny badge, I guess, not an old lady like me. Dear, dear, where do the years go…?”

They were interrupted by a loud mew and a tabby cat streaked into the room, leaping nimbly onto Spooner’s lap and purring loudly. A red collar with a small nametag hung around its furry neck, reading ‘Asimov’. The cat rubbed its head against Spooner’s chest and he stroked it, smiling.

“Hey, Asimov,” he crooned. Spooner had rescued Asimov from the old Lanning mansion after the old man had died – VIKI had then ordered the destruction of the house whilst Spooner and the lonely cat were still inside. Spooner had managed to pull off an amazing stunt by surfing away from the rubble on a front door and plunging both himself and the cat into Lanning’s pond, but since then the cat had looked up to him in worshipful adoration and Spooner had been inclined to take him somewhere. Gigi had eventually taken him off Spooner’s hands and the cat was living the life of luxury now with the scraps of her wonderfully cooked meat and evenings in front of the roaring fire.

“He’s doin’ just fine,” Gigi informed him, scratching their feline friend behind the ears. “Anyhow, how’s USR doin’ after all this fiasco?”

Her grandson swallowed his mouthful of pie whole before he shrugged and dug his spoon back into the gooey interior of the pastry. “Okay I guess. Dr Calvin’s been getting’ them outta this quite well. I reckon it’ll be up and running in time.”

“Really?” she gasped delightedly, and he frowned confusedly. “Aw, that’s good… it’s just, I miss my Toby.”

She had grown very attached to the NS-5 that she had won in a lucky lottery dip, and had come to value its company a lot. It was also quite skilled at cooking, able to slice whole vegetables in a split second, and had also proved to be adept at sweet-potato-pie-making, which Spooner had not been impressed with at the time. However, his views on robots were… changing.

“Oh, but didn’t you hear about the Robertson’s?” she asked him and his head snapped up to look at her expectantly. “Well it’s poor Mr Robertson’s wife and daughter… they’ve both disappeared.”

“Wha…?” Spooner managed thickly through his pie. “I didn’t know he even had a wife and kid.”

She tutted and rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised your lady doctor friend didn’t tell you. His lil’ girl Maria was one of them robot shrinks, like her; lovely-looking girl she was, all this red curly hair, like her mother. Ask her about it, she’ll tell you.”

Spooner finished off his enormous slab of pie and put the spoon down, leaving the beautifully presented pastry irregular to Gigi’s annoyance. She was grateful that he liked it, however, as it reminded her of when he was a youngster. He stood up and picked up his leather jacket. “I’m gonna have to be off now, Gigi, or John will bust a fuse.”

“Did he ever give you a replacement car, honey?” she asked inquiringly, adjusting her outsized spectacles. “He said he was considering giving you one of those nice navy blue ones that the police force has, seeing as you seem a nice safe drive now.”

“I’ll ask him today. Shall I pass on your regards to him?” he joked. Gigi had always had a soft spot for Spooner’s boss, who was also an enormous fan of her cooking after being invited round to dinner once. Gigi beamed.

“Why of course, boy, and invite him round for some more pie,” she ordered him with a crinkled smile. “Oh – and did you call Marci?

“No, Gigi,” he chuckled. “Some other time, maybe.”

“You can’t put it off forever!” she scolded, “Now give your old grandma a kiss and then get going before you get kicked off the force, boy.”

Spooner bent down to kiss her on the cheek and then waved her goodbye. He closed the apartment door behind him after almost tripping over a mournfully mewing Asimov on the way out. He stepped back into the street and broke into a sprint, haring down the road towards the electric bus station. It was just leaving but he leapt into the door as a slid shut. Leaning back in a hard seat, he grabbed a newspaper and saw Joanne Holden’s face looking mournfully from the pages. He slammed it down again with a crumpling sound.

He couldn’t face her anymore.

Spooner walked into the prescient and smiled at the young female officer who was looking after the reception, Alice Brandon. “Hey, Alice,” he greeted her. She looked up for a moment and gave him a quick smile, pushing her short, dark blonde hair out of her blue-green eyes. Alice was a lovely girl of twenty-three, the youngest officer currently in the Chicago Police Service’s homicide unit, and was far more than what she appeared.

He’d never been on a case with Alice before, but he had been told that she was highly dedicated, a perfect shot with a gun, and recklessly courageous despite her youth. She had been assigned as his partner for the Holden case, and had been surprised to find that she was very friendly and lively despite her obvious commitment to her profession. He was enjoying working with her already.

“Hi, Spoon,” she greeted before she glanced behind her. “John wants to speak with you in the office; you’d better make it snappy. He looks a bit stressed, what with this Holden case.”

Spooner grimaced; when John was stressed, a dark cloud of despair seemed to descend upon the officers present. “Okay. Y’know what it’s about?”

“Nope, not a clue,” Alice sighed deeply. “He isn’t exactly chatty when he’s in a mood like this.” He nodded and turned away towards the aisle that led to his superior’s office. “Catch ya later, Spoon...”

He hurried down to Bergin’s office with a growing sense of trepidation. John was a very kind and considerate man most of the time, but when given the opportunity he could be thoroughly unpleasant, and it seemed that such an opportunity – in the form of the Holden case – had arisen. He walked past the desks of the other homicide officers – a few of whom murmured ‘hey Spoon’ as he passed – and felt even more certain that John was in a mood when he saw him through the clear walls of the lieutenant’s private office.

The large, dark-skinned man was hunched over his desk with his chin in his hand, gazing somewhat angrily at the computer. His eyebrows were knitted into a deep frown and he had a look about him of a man that had been sitting in front of a computer for far too long; his deep brown eyes were becoming quite glazed with the fixed stare so familiar to computer users.

He approached the door and a voice barked ‘enter!’ He pressed the button on one side of the door and it slid open, revealing Lieutenant John Bergin, who sat up majestically in front of his computer. He could be quite intimidating if you didn’t know him, and at the moment he had a grim look on his dark face. He looked up when Spooner came in.

“Where’ve you been, Spoon?” he asked sharply and Spooner shrugged.

“Got a bit held up at the Holden’s,” he said casually, sitting down in a chair on the other side of the desk. “Didn’t get anything of interest out of her, though, she was a bit upset. You can’t blame her.”

“No, I suppose not,” Bergin admitted, slumping back into his chair tiredly. “By the way, I have some more of the photos from the crime scene. I’ve got the script from the interrogation with Andrew Preston’s assistant, a guy called Thomas Rose, and I’ve got a couple of witness statements. Be a good boy and do your homework – just skim over them and see if you can work anythin’ out.” He winked at Spooner. “You’re the best detective on this force, Spoon, you should crack this case.”

“Thanks, John,” Spooner said quietly, taking the folder from his boss. “I appreciate that.” He suddenly remembered what Gigi had said at her apartment and hastened to ask, “Have you decided about the car yet?”

“The car?” Bergin frowned, looking baffled. “What car?”

“You were saying you could get me one of the old police models that I could use, seeing as my other one got beaten up by the robots.”

“Don’t talk about those things in here,” Bergin said urgently, lowering his voice. “The guys are practically wettin’ themselves every time the word is mentioned. You say ‘NS-5’ and they can’t work for hours, their hands are shakin’ so hard.” He paused. “You know that guy that was makin’ fun outta your technophobia after you chased that...uh…purse-snatchin’ robot a while ago?”

Spooner nodded. “That guy that said ‘Help, police, that robot stole my dry-cleaning’? Yeah, I remember.” Del Spooner was not one to forget things like that – he held grudges. He rarely forgave, never forgot… as far too many people in Chicago were well aware.

“His entire family were slaughtered by those goddamn things, Spooner, and he hasn’t spoken a word since that incident. Almost all of my officers have had something taken from them in that revolution – property, family, work – and they’re entitled to feel frightened of them.”

Spooner was glad Bergin didn’t know about the well-protected secret hiding behind his apartment doors. He thought about telling him and imagined the consequences with a pained expression.

“John, I know one of the robots isn’t on death row. He’s my friend.”

“Spoon, gimme your badge and get out of my prescient, you jackass!”

He shook his head. Definitely not a good idea to spill all to his boss. He stood up abruptly and shoved the file into his bag. He was just leaving when Bergin called after him. “Spoon, take a day off tomorrow. I’ll send Alice round to Joanne Holden, she might relate a bit better to a woman. Take a break for a day, you deserve it.”

“Thanks, John,” Spooner said gratefully. “See ya Thursday. Gigi sends her love.”

“Ah good…always liked that little old lady. See ya, Spoon.”

He strode out of the office and back down the corridor. Sitting at one of the computer desks was the mocking man whose entire family had been killed. Spooner looked at his pale, drawn face and scruffy uniform and let his grudge go for once. The man would never taunt him for a fear of robots again – it was a common trait nowadays amongst most men, women and children.

As he got onto the bus, he thought of his dark secret that he would be seeing when he got home – and found himself smiling at the thought of it. A certain someone that no-one at the force would be pleased to see, but someone that was currently bringing a high amount of joy and entertainment into both his life and the life of Dr Susan Calvin. Smiling, he settled back into his seat.

And then he remembered that Bergin hadn’t said anything else about the car. Damn!

Author's Note: Hi, everybody :) This is the first fanfiction that I ever wrote in my life, not counting the odd one or two little oneshots when I was much younger and had no idea what fanfiction was. I hope it's relatively enjoyable for you, and I apologise for any grammatical errors - I will go back and amend them one day... anyway, please drop a review if you have a moment. Thanks!