“Upload team reports that subject HI 3a5.x290 has been successfully integrated into the system,” Damien said over his commlink.
“Was the upload a success?” asked a demanding voice on the other side of the commlink.
“You’d have to ask the tech boys about that, but I’m sure the AI has already sent you a report. The operator who handled it called it a zinger, if that is helpful,” Damien replied.
“Excellent news indeed. Far too few remain that intact. Now, clear out the unit. Sanitize and remove all indications of Mr. Rudd’s existence. The U.N. demands that we be very thorough, and you know how I hate explaining sloppy work to some bureaucrat. Oh and be fast, I’ve already notified the Department of Housing and Relocation that there is a vacancy.” The voice spoke with an air of finality, then the commlink went dead.
Damien looked around the small apartment. It was fairly typical of a single user unit. There was probably a waiting list for it already. He turned to his crew. They were all robots, so none of them cared what was happening. To them, this was just taking out the trash. Even the biological matter removal unit saw this as nothing but raw material.
“We are cleared to clear out and recycle this unit. Maximum sanitization has been ordered.”
The machines all responded with synthesized human voices to demonstrate their understanding. It creeped Damien out, but an early programmer probably felt it made the machines more relatable and the habit had just stuck. He jumped as he saw one machine grabbing a wallet from the small end table near where the immersion pod had been.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The pod was already removed. He had done dozens of these cleanups and the tech boys from Quantum Games always made sure to take the pods with them when they finished the upload. They left the body, no better to think of it as bio-matter, behind, but at least this time it wasn’t messy. More often than not, the heads exploded during the uploads. No muss, no fuss this time.
He grabbed the wallet before the robot could incinerate it. He barked at it, “Let me review this first.”
Wallets were kind of antiquated, but there might be credit chips in it or something. It wasn’t like this guy was gonna need it where he was going. Most credits might be handled over the net now, but sometimes there were still old forms of physical currency.
As he leafed through the wallet, he didn’t find any currency, but then Damien noticed the picture of an attractive girl. He scanned the data on the upload subject, Mr. Rudd. Oh, a sister, perfect. Girlfriends were fine but sisters often needed comforting after hearing about the demise of their loved one. Easy pickups then, better than crashing a wedding.