X-Ray:

The android paced, between the door and the chair, taking in the interview room in all it's glory for what could have been the fiftieth time. Then she turned to the camera and asked point blank: "So, how did I do?"

She looked normal; just another teenager, even at a full look rather than just a glance. No seems, no oily skin, nothing that could give her away. Even her brown hair looked natural, with a shine to it; better than any wig I'd ever seen. The eyes dilated like human eyes, and the focus was something easy to spot, just like with humans.

But she could bench press just over three hundred pounds and run at just under thirty-five miles per hour, with an agility that she showed off on an obstacle course that reminded me of the big cats I'd seen in the wild.

She was correct, as well. This android wasn't like any he'd seen before; she had a point of view, an informed understanding, that while it wasn't perfect, showed some fundamental grasp of the human condition; at least some aspects of it.

It was more than simply having information dumped into her head from her creator, because they had differing opinions about some topics. Mostly those related to law.

The android Jill was very wrapped up in law and its proper application. Even to the point of disagreeing with how her creator was skirting the law. When asked, she said point blank that she would arrest her if the offense called for it, and that it was lucky that so far, the only crimes committed had been ones warranting tickets.

Clayton didn't want to say it, but the good sheriff was in love. He still wanted to send her, an actual construct of treated steel and high grade actuators, to the police academy with normal humans. As if she won't break bones or shatter concrete there, like a good looking bull in a china shop!

Jill had already broken a door and a target here, apologizing profusely scratching the back of her head with an 'aww shucks' gesture that had to be learned from either Minerva or the internet. I wasn't sure which one was worse.

No, I was. If the behavior was learned on Jill's part, then that meant she was learning herself, very quickly. Trying to diffuse the situation where she would be blamed, like a child... only a very intelligent and crafty child that was actively trying to use our own human nature against us.
It was a fully innocent use, so far. But it was something to note. Also of note was her ability to connect to normal wireless systems; it wasn't hacking, but this android had much better ability in that respect than the earlier models Minerva had made; with some custom hardware she shouldn't even be able to engrave without a full lab and clean room.

All she needed was to get close enough, and any active wireless signal that wasn't encrypted somehow was hers.

Clayton hitched his belt and sighed. "Well, I guess I better go in there. If you're done."

The man really wanted to give her a pass. A full pass. "Go ahead. I'm done, unless you can think of something I failed to test?"

"Nah doc, I think you got it all. Even the secret but not so secret material scans you hit her with when she walked in the door."

It wasn't illegal; anyone walking in the front door was consenting to scans for security reasons. We had just added a few more, is all. Express consent worked for all of it.

This android was dangerous. She could still be detected by signal detectors and even a simple metal detector, but her capabilities... she was so far beyond a smart system, or even a collection of smart systems chained together.

I'd seen both in my time, and even fought against them when the occasion called for it. This was something else. Something better than a brute-forced general AI. Something far more directed, somehow.

I couldn't understand the code at all. Even given time, I wasn't sure I ever would.

Worse still, Minerva was escalating. Even now, she was building more of these androids, and getting better all the time. Even her first could pass as human in most circumstances, especially if you didn't know what to look for. Most people didn't.

Jill had no tells that I could see. Minerva was a massive threat. A generational ending threat, just like all the science fiction movies and books warned us about.

The son turned daughter of his best and oldest friend; someone he'd cover for no matter what. God help him. He'd have to call her again and stress it; if she did any more, Minerva would take the decision on what to share with his superiors and what not to share out of his hands. There was only so much he could run cover for, and a growing rise of the robots problem wasn't one of those things, even with a team watching her.
There might even be satellites and missiles locked in on the area, the standard contingency plan all the hawks liked to ask for ready to go, despite it never actually working.

On the camera, I watched the Sheriff enter. "Good morning Sir," the android said politely.

"Good morning Jill. I can call you Jill, right?"

"Of course, sir," the android responded with just the right amount of cheer. Just the right amount to be disarming; to put humans at ease. There was no doubt that it was subtle, manipulative, and very calculated behavior.

"So, as to how you did... you passed. Both the physical and the written test. You'll still need to go to our academy, but you shouldn't have any problem there. I've just got a few questions."

"Of course, sir," the android chimed in again, with less cheer this time, appropriately judging the gravity of the words said to it despite never having any experience doing so before. I could read the lines of communication heading out into the internet, I could guess where the signals were going, but I could only catch parts of what the responses were.

I could cut it off, but I'd learn more this way. The androids, all of them, knew I was listening in anyway. Some of them, at least, did not consider me a threat, and so they kept talking. I was glad they felt that way since it made at least some of my job easier.

I refocused on the monitor so as not to miss anything. The androids were talking to each other, which meant networking and crowd-computing ideas and responses. They were not designed for such according to the child genius who made them, but they were clearly taking some liberties.

"Question one," Clayton stated. "Are you bullet proof?"

"No sir, nor am I meant to be. I might be considered somewhat more tough than most people, yet I am told that I am still within human norms. You may consider me somewhat resistant, as my vital components required for function are in different locations than your organs, and some might be shielded somewhat from small arms fire. However, the sidearm you currently carry should be sufficient to kill me, if you felt inclined."
A very detailed answer, and the use of the word "kill" rather than destroy was telling. I would wager the older ones had told this android to use that word as another manipulation.

"That's fine. I just want to know how best to use you if you pass all the exams and I hire you. You're telling me to use you like any other cop."

The android nodded. "I am, sir. However, there is another aspect to this; I am also meant to be a pilot, of a set of power armor."

I heard a snap, and realized it had been me, snapping my note-taking pen in half. I quickly pulled another one; I couldn't miss this. Even so, a power armor now! Where was her focus? How could she do so much? I mean, the transforming plane with engines smaller than a car's was bad enough. Now she was outright imitating comic books, and thumbing the eye of physics completely! Even more than most devisors could.

"The power armor is meant to be an answer to certain more dangerous threats," the android continued, and what it wasn't saying outright was speaking volumes. Clayton felt his last failure keenly, even now. "It will be a light suit, yet one with heavy armaments and capable of flight."

"Sounds valuable. Will anyone else be able to use it?"

Clayton was cutting to the heart of things, as usual. "Of course," the android answered. "You'd need my body size, or to reset the size, and while I will be able to sync with the armor and therefore get the most use out of it, the armor as designed is something anyone can use. That said, my creator decided that such a dangerous weapon should not be available to just anyone - and so made the armor with me in mind."

"Right. One last question for now... why do you want to be a cop?"

"I want to help people, and the police help people by ensuring that other people do not commit crimes upon them. I also want to help my creator stay law-abiding."

And there it was. A self-serving answer, just after the stock standard answer.

Clayton focused in: "Why do you need to be a cop for that?"

"I don't technically," was the answer, snapped out so quickly it was unlikely to be a lie, even given from a machine that had a much faster compute to speech speed than we did. "But I am far more likely to keep her on that straight and narrow than you, as I am built in part for the purpose, and she will trust me. If you turn us down, I shall simply apply for a private investigator's or consultant's license and continue to advise her. The only goal that suffers from that plan is that of helping others, as without the badge, I will be able to help fewer people."

The android... wasn't wrong, exactly. A badge would go a long way towards assuaging fears to the rank and file. Which was exactly why they shouldn't give the thing one.

I needed to get a copy of the plans of that power armor. The way the android was talking, the suit was light. If it was lighter than the ones used by the MCO, and we could get a copy or version, it might prove more effective than our current countermeasures.

I wouldn't steal it, exactly - but a lot could be learned from looking at blueprints. When devisors cared to make blueprints; that wasn't a universal trait. Minerva was one of the more controlled and meticulous of the breed, even as I was. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Clayton was still going. "So if I ask you to go undercover on the main street the next town over as a hooker to catch johns..."

"I'd do it, of course. My body was designed for the work, after all."

The body? Not the core, or reasoning center, or whatever else it could be named other than 'mind'?

The way I understood it, this android was made with the idea of police in mind. That somehow, through some process known only to a sixteen-year old child, the android had imprinted on the idea of becoming law enforcement rather than simply being programmed to be one. An actual focus or mild obsession with the idea, a goal to work towards, and a reason to be, offered up over being plugged in.

If we denied it, what would it do? A private eye, it said. But how angry, how disillusioned would it be? What might it do? I wanted to find out... but it wasn't my call to make.

"And if I have you working as a meter maid?"

"There are no meters in town," the android responded. "that would mean a transfer, which I would be against. However, if that was where you sent me, then I would follow orders."

"And if I tell you to arrest the Campbells?" Clayton pressed.

"If you had legal reason and a warrant, I would do so," the android answered without any hitch at all. No hesitation. "I shall serve and protect and follow the law to the best of my ability."

"Right, okay. Well, I've heard enough. You know how to talk a good game at least. Your performance is on par or better with what I'd expect of new recruits undergoing our physical. Your conditions on where you want to serve are workable. I'm willing to give you a chance... but you better repay that chance: I want top marks in the academy, and if you graduate, you follow my lead, or I'll drum you out myself."

That was... there were worse examples of the law than Clayton, but the man didn't always follow the letter of things. Teaching this android to ignore the law when it suits would not end well, and he had to know that... so what was the game here?

"Of course, sir," was the expected response.

"Good. Let's get out of here. You need to recharge, don't you?"

"Soon, sir, yes I will." Not an exact answer, but it was likely the battery or whatever powered this android had a twenty four hour capacity. If not, it was close. I hadn't gotten a good read on it, it was black boxed even to my scans and to simply take the android apart would lead to some uncomfortable questions I'd need to answer, such as 'where had this data in the server come from?'

The blowback wouldn't be worth the knowledge, not when I could simply ask and get the answer. Min was sixteen, after all, and entirely too trusting.

Even if I didn't like what was happening, I wasn't able to stop it; the choice wasn't mine.

The only thing I could do is make another call and pressure my friends to keep their child under check. Get her to stop making more androids like the one walking out the door before the wrong people noticed.