Page 29 of Ezra
“I’m not paid for my opinions.” I hang up my coat and remove my wet shoes as well.
“Ah! Good! You made it!”
A voice booms from the speakers through the entire penthouse, startling Katrina and reverberating uncomfortably through my circuitry. We both turn as a screen slowly descends from the ceiling. There, smiling broadly, is none other than the founder of BioNex himself.
“Mr. Schroeder,” I greet calmly. “It’s been a long time.”
“Ezra, my boy! It has indeed. Let me have a good look at you.” He peers far too closely into the camera, making his eyes look as though they’re popping out of his skull through his bifocals. “What’s it been? Four years now?”
“Three,” I reply. Although I keep in close ties with BioNex through Dr. Taylor, I’ve only met Algrove Schroeder twice—when I was presented to the New Carnegie Police Department for the first time in the laboratory when I was made, and again when I was sworn in.
“You look shipshape! I’m glad.” He turns his attention to Katrina, and his cheery smiles softens. “Katrina. How lovely it is to see you again.”
I glance at her curiously. She’s polite but guarded. “Hello, Dr. Schroeder.”
“I’m very sorry about what happened.”
“Thank you. It was kind of you to open your home up for my safety.”
Sympathy registers on Schroeder’s face, but it feels cold and stiff, likely the absence of his presence in front of us. “How is your father?”
“Alive, recovering in the hospital. He’s out of danger, the doctors say. My mom’s with him,” Katrina replies.
“That’s good news,” Schroeder says. “Rest assured, I’ll do anything I can for him and your mother. It’s the least I can do. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable. It’s my son’s flat, but he won’t mind. You remember Liam?”
I’ve only met Liam Schroeder briefly over the years. Unlike his father, he’s rarely in the lab and doesn’t work on or collaborate in the design and creation of androids. I know very little about him otherwise. I step off to the side, sensing I should give Katrina some space during this conversation.
“Of course,” she replies. “How is he? Last I heard, he was off partying in Beirut.”
“Well...” Schroeder’s smile is thin and bleary. “He’s recently engaged. He and his fiancée are in New York. He’ll return in a few weeks, then he’ll be away again, undergoing treatment.”
Katrina seems to tread cautiously. “Treatment?”
“Pancreatic cancer. It’s terminal, I’m afraid.”
Katrina curls an arm around her stomach. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t expect you to. What happened between your father and me, I don’t think either of us wanted you and Liam to sever your friendship over it. For that, I truly am sorry.”
Troubled, Katrina doesn’t answer right away. There’s pain in her face, new and raw, different from the expression she’sbeen carrying over the past two days. She glances at me after composing herself. “You don’t have to apologize for that. I took a stand. Regardless, I hope his treatment goes well.”
“I’ll let him know you inquired about him,” Schroeder reassures her. “Make yourself at home, Kat. It’s good to see you again. Stay safe.”
With that, the call ends. Katrina ruffles her hair. “Well, that was miserable.”
“I imagine so,” I reply.
“It’s crazy how things change.”
“I wasn’t aware you and the Schroeders were well-acquainted.”
Katrina nods. “He and my father were friends and worked together a long time ago. Liam and I attended the same schools. Then we had our falling out.”
Despite the pressure she’s under, Katrina didn’t give Schroeder the kind of hard time I would expect from an outspoken Humanity First personality. Her behavior is curious. If more of her followers were like her—level-headed, thoughtful—Humanity First might actually succeed in shifting its public perception.
But I’m aware, however distantly, how difficult it is for people to bring about change peacefully. And anger is a powerful motivator. “That must have been difficult for you.”
“A lot of things have been difficult,” she admits. “But I’m still alive, I’m healthy, and I have a job waiting for me when this is all over.” She looks at me. “I don’t think it’d be right for me to complain.”
