TWO ORANGE-BREASTED European robins inched tentatively from their perch onto Sonor Breece’s narrow wrist. Their tiny feet felt like tickles against his skin, their bodies almost weightless. The birds chirped nervously. Breece moved slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was startle them into flight.
With the birds on his hand, Breece eased over to his worktable. He rested his arm on the oak top, next to a small dish of water. After a moment’s hesitation, the birds hopped from his hand onto the wood surface. Breece remained still, his face at the level of the tabletop, observing. He liked robins, especially this species.
So colorful. So cheerful.
The birds took a few seconds to adjust to the hard, flat surface. They chirped brightly and craned their necks in every direction. Then, one after the other, they moved to the rim of the dish and dipped their beaks into the clear sugar water. They tilted their heads back, letting gravity carry the sweet liquid down their throats.
“Pretty birds,” said Breece softly.
In less than two seconds, the birds were both lying on their sides, with tiny bubbles of white foam spilling from their beaks. Breece waited a few seconds more, then reached out and hovered a palm lightly over each bird, feeling for signs of life. There were none.
He was so intent on his experiment that he didn’t hear the soft steps behind him. “Has it improved?”
Gismonde.
Startled, Breece stood up sharply and pulled his hands back to his sides.
“Yes, no doubt,” said Breece. “The new formula is even faster. More efficient.”
“This is predictive?” Gismonde asked, eyeing the tiny lifeless forms on the table.
“Well of course, we need further testing at scale, but I have every confidence—”
Gismonde cut him off. “Test it tonight,” he said. He turned toward the stairs and then paused. “And what about Mr. Cranston?” he asked. “Do you have him yet?”
Breece flushed. He had issued the search order, of course. But he had been too preoccupied to follow up. A mistake. And now he was forced to cover up with bluster.
“The squads are out,” Breece said firmly. “We’ll have him soon, without fail.”
Gismonde didn’t respond. He just stared. Breece met his gaze for a moment, then dipped his head in a reflexive bow. The look had been enough to shake him. When Breece lifted his eyes again, Gismonde was gone.
Breece pressed a button on a console at the end of the table. A guard appeared in the doorway.
“Open the Hudson mission tonight at five,” said Breece. The guard nodded once and started to turn as Breece completed his instructions.
“And add twenty more tables.”
Breece took a ruler and carefully pushed the robins into a bin.