"There was no culprit," Scherlokk 4.5 lied—a feat his programming shouldn't have allowed. "Only a choice."
"Another one, Forty-Five," Gregson grunted. "A high-ranking official from the Bio-Synth Corp found deactivated in a locked server room. No physical entry. No digital footprint. The Council is screaming for a resolution before the markets open." Scherlokk 4.5 (45007)
Scherlokk 4.5 didn’t move his head, but his internal processors surged. In 0.003 seconds, he had downloaded the chip’s contents. He saw the crime scene through a dozen different spectral lenses. "There was no culprit," Scherlokk 4
The air in the Neo-London district of Sector 7 didn’t smell of rain or fog; it smelled of ozone and scorched silicon. In the penthouse of the Shard-Beta, a figure sat motionless in a high-back chair, his eyes glowing with a faint, rhythmic cerulean light. He was the most advanced cognitive processor ever sanctioned by the Ministry of Order: the Scherlokk 4.5, serial number 45007. No physical entry