Well, sort of day 8. There’s a 7.5 that was a massive edit of things so far, adding a bit of steampunk and fixing holes
–Chapter 11 (and some of 10)
The rest of West Wall passed without incident, and they quickly got to North Wall and the barnacle shops. Zod looked around furtively for anyone they knew, and it looked like they might actually make it without incident this time.
— Chapter 11 —
Their luck being what it is, Zod had to quickly duck down First Street, full of offices for and to feed the government on one side, and the stores to feed the trappings of power on the other. Suits don’t actually grow on trees after all, especially stuffed ones. But, they were pretty sure it was a manager they spotted along with a shift supervisor, and being seen by them would be pretty much the worst thing that could happen. Not that First was much better as it was largely populated by autobutlers scurrying back and forth with freshly pressed clothes and unsigned forms, so an electric beaver, even a clean one, stood out a bit. Fortunately someone had dropped a folder so Zod scooped it up to look like they had some reason to be there.
Unsure if it was a good thing to find or not, a glance at the folder proved to be draft legislation to effectively tax [THING2] out of existence. Curious for something they’d never heard of before today, Zod thought, curious indeed. But, it was something they could peruse later, since the current task was Not Being Seen, so they quickly imaged the pages. To be safe, Zod trundled down the block, extending a wing mirror just in case their bosses showed up behind them.
Which they were, of course, but they dawdled way back at the street corner. However, the pressing thing is that they’d been spotted by an autobutler, who was staring at the file Zod was holding…
“Wotcher,” said the autobutler, “that folder, where did you get it?”
“I found it up there on the street, I was hoping to figure out who it belongs to, “ Zod replied with a questioning look.
“Do you know what it is? It belongs to [MINISTRY] and I dropped it”.
“Something about [THING2] but I don’t know what that is. Can you tell me?”
“Did you read it?”
“No, didn’t have the chance, You?” Zod technically told the truth.
“Something about robots,” the autobutler said, “It’s not my job. But I need to take it to the office”
“Here you go then” and the autobutler took the folder and headed back up the street.
Curious, thought Zod. It was hard to say if the butler didn’t care, or just wasn’t capable of caring. As a sentient robot the idea of the latter disturbed them greatly. The idea of actual automatons threatened their very existence. They thought the like had been banned before their time, when the sentients had proved their mettle.