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By Root 603 0

his scientific investments, the raising of dead species and the improvement of existing ones through genetic engineering. Was it Silvers wish to conquer life and death? Unless Silver had that power already, of course. This was far into Anjis future, she had no idea what technology might be commonplace, or at least available to someone of Silvers resources. If he could take a genetic sample from an apple core and grow apple trees, what else could he raise with appropriate DNA samples? Anji had seenJurassic Park , and although the cinema had been full of kids and the occasional cackling lunatic she had appreciated the basics of the plot. Although that had been a film, pure science fiction, it had been based on real science, and she herself had seen the first cloned sheep in the newspapers. And she had certainly seen weirder things on her travels since then.

Which left Anji with two questions how far did Silvers power extend, and how far did he want to expand that power?

The Doctors visits to the lavish offices of the powerful usually began with him being dragged in by his hair. A polite request was a radical, but not unwelcome, change. Miraso had caught him on his way into the Silver Palace after a day of sweeping the crime scene for evidence and attending autopsies. Silvers request was reasonable enough, and the Doctor let Miraso lead him through a winding series of corridors to a door high up in the building. Before she could knock the Doctor pushed the door open and walked through it, waving cheekily at Miraso as she stood there, hand raised to tap on the door politely. He let the door shut in her face, walked straight to a free chair and slumped into it without being invited to sit. Some basic standards of insolence needed to be maintained, even in the face of the most seemingly polite authority figures.

Silver raised his single eyebrow at the Doctors presumption, but let the impertinence slide.

Doctor, he said, his voice reverberating around the room without actually being loud. Im glad you could join me.

A pleasure, replied the Doctor, shuffling himself into a comfortable position in his seat.

Silver raised his eyebrow again. He sat behind a large, highly polished desk, illuminated in the fading early evening light by a spherical lamp. Silvers faceplate gleamed in the warm glow. The Doctor allowed his eyes to wander, taking in the rows of books on the walls, the fine furnishings. For a cyborg, Silvers tastes were exceptionally human.

I have been monitoring communications channels throughout the day, said Silver, picking up a slablike remote control in his robot hand. Take a look. He pointed the remote at a viewscreen on the wall and pushed a chunky button. The screen presented a fuzzy image of a woman, talking in panicked tones about how there were bodies piling up in the streets, how nowhere was safe. Silver pushed the button again and the screen split in two, a man appearing on the other half of the screen describing killers on the loose. Silver pressed the button twice, and the screen split into quarters, then eighths, images of people in each part of the screen, voices overlapping in various levels of hysteria.

Panic is setting in, Doctor, said Silver. These latest killings, the murder of this family people are beginning to believe that this killer is beyond capture, that no one can stop him. Their faith in the status quo has been shaken. He pressed another button, and the babbling faces disappeared, to be replaced by footage of Silver himself, firing over Anjis head and sending a member of the Brotherhood of the Silver Fist flying. This is what people should have on their minds, said Silver. Images of dissent and terrorism being swiftly defeated. Uplifting images that make them feel that their world makes sense. He turned the screen off and placed the remote control back on his desk. I want you and the militia to give them back that sense of perspective, Doctor. Silvers artificial eye flared red as the Doctor met his gaze.

The Doctor threw an evidence bag on to Silvers desk. Silver picked