Tyra held court in the bar, much emptied by the early morning hours. Unfazed by the dried barf on her sleeve, she perched on a bar stool, a cup of tea now cold in her hand. No hint remained of the abyss-stricken woman of earlier in the night.
Ara, the mischievous officer of shadow, busied herself about the bar, hanging strips of paper inscribed with crisp calligraphy on the rafters. Tyra had called a town meeting for the wee morning hours to discuss bringing on Byeju as deputy, an unconventional move that would require a go-ahead from the higher ups. Ara was in charge of spelling the bar against eavesdropping, although Tyra wasn't saying whom she thought might be spying.
Bud’s eyes tracked Ara skeptically as she went about her work. At least she wasn’t painting the walls like last time. “What’s she doing?” he asked Tyra.
Ara overheard and piped up, “It’s an original spell from my spell book. I call it ‘Gag Order #69.’”
A very tired Basil nursed a floral tea down at the end of the bar. She rolled her eyes dramatically, barely looking up from her cup, “It’s not.”
“It is now,” Ara chuckled to herself and wedged another slip of paper in the roof beams, teetering dangerously on a bar chair.
Bud looked up nonplussed from his seat next to Tyra and Byeju, “What, are we gonna have an orgy in here?”
Tyra winked, “You wish! This is just a security precaution… No one will be able to listen in on our conversation. But Ara, seriously, why on earth would you call it that? Be professional for once.”
Ara twitched and couldn’t resist correcting her boss as she strained for another rafter, “Well, they could listen in, it’s just that if they tried to talk about it…”
“Eww, no,” Tyra interrupted, “what did I tell you about that the last time? You’re police for crying out loud, you’ve gotta be less edgy if you want your career to go anywhere. Subtlety is key here.”
“I live for the edge,” Ara gloated.
Ara was too giddy from trolling her boss to notice the older woman slip out of her chair and grab a small leaf of paper inscribed with Ara’s spell that she had left lying on the table. Tyra looked, saw that Ara still wasn’t paying attention and gently wetted the paper with a slosh of her tea. She eyed her remaining posse in the bar and pressed a finger to her lips. Then she dashed at Ara, who turned too late. Tyra clapped the paper to Ara’s face and then smoothed it over her mouth wit a brush of her hand. The police captain held a finger to her lips again and smiled at Ara, “Shh.”
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Ara tried to respond but the slip of paper clung to her lips, inflating like a leech mottled with dark magic each time she tried to speak.
She glowered at Tyra and gave her a meaningful middle finger salute. Tyra waved back, “Gag Order #666, for my sidekick from hell!”
“More like Gag Order #1312,” Basil laughed before Tyra shot her a dirty look.
Tyra slid back onto her stool, having finally meted out justice for the awful “Psychic Tyranny” cocktail and puke fest inflicted by her unruly junior officer. Ara sulked at a booth in the corner, trying to untangle the magic that silenced her. “Now that we have a secure and professional work space,” Tyra began, looking pointedly at Ara, “could you gather the town notables?” She gestured her request at Bud and Basil. They both nodded and headed for the door, all seriousness once again.
“Mr. Byeju,” Tyra began turning to the bemused robot standing at the bar with stoic discomfort amid the chaos, “Pardon the disruption. I hope you can understand that bringing an ancient robot onto our team is quite unconventional, and we need security precautions for our discussion.”
The robot regarded her with glowing green eyes, their light playing off the glass bottles behind the bar, “Of course. I am trained in security precautions, including signal jamming, witness intimidation, and other increasingly violent alternatives,” he repeated with obvious unease.
“Well, Mr. Byeju, we’re not in a rebellion nor a war. We shan’t be needing whatever draconian tactics they taught you…”
“…the Suppression Protocols: Human Rights Index Exemptions 1.80-1.96…”
“Yeah, those. Y’know if we’re ever invaded, you can take those “exemptions” for a spin, but otherwise keep them on the down-low. In fact, it’s your hesitancy about violence that makes you good for this job. Do you feel comfortable taking it, Mr. Byeju?”
“I do, Captain Tyra.”
“It’s my belief you’re less prone to wanton violence than us apes,” she winked at Ara, who tried to utter a hex, only ballooning the dark magic leech to even greater proportions.
“I agree Captain, it’s just that my Creators allowed it. They’ve entered so many caveats into my Human Rights Index…”
“Well, embrace the freedom and don’t be a dick,” Tyra replied. “I trust your discretion. Good judgement is all we humans have.”
“Shouldn’t we disclose Exemptions 1.80-1.96?”
“No.”
“Why? Is it not irresponsible?”
“You’re plenty ethical, Mr. Robot.”
“But don’t your town folk need to make an informed decision?”
“I trust your abilities and am requesting your assistance. What more information do they need?”
The robot thought about this, circuits firing invisibly behind his eyes’ emerald glow, “I clearly do not understand human hierarchies.”
“You don’t.”
Byeju bowed his head slightly before Tyra continued, “Do you understand enough to accept my authority, so long as I respect your dignity and ask you to act only within your conscience?”
The robot’s eyes glinted and he steepled his chunky metal fingers, regarding the police captain with a new-found respect. “I do, Captain Tyra.”
“Do you have any more doubts?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll ask you once more, will you, Mr. Byeju the Robot, serve as a deputy of Precinct Nine?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I appreciate your service.” Tyra shook the robot’s cold metal gauntlet. The machine went back to his thoughts, and Tyra swished her tea idly, as they waited for Bud and Basil to return with the town notables. Ara sulked in her corner, trying to read a spellbook around the edge of a very inflated dark magic leach with pale skin of ink and paper.