ke to carry out on you. It will take
several hours, but thankfully I don't actually need you to be present
for it so you can go and do whatever you like. I just need to take a
relatively quick backup of your brain's neural pathways first, then you
can go home and get some rest."

"A neural backup?"

"It won't hurt, I promise." Another warning sign pops up next to his
face, and I finally decide it's time to kick into defence mode.
There's no discernible change from an outsider's perspective, but
inside my brain and its hardware, a dozen little defence applications
are springing to life, waiting for my signal that they should start
wreaking havoc. I usually slip into this mode several times a week,
but in my line of work it's safer to err on the side of paranoia.
"What's this really for? Insurance in case I mess up?"

"I can't slip anything past you." The doctor grins, revealing two rows
of surprisingly well worn teeth. "Let's just say your employer doesn't
like to take chances, and you're the best person in the business."

"From what you're saying, I'm pretty much the _only_ person in the
business."

"Exactly. Now, please, lie down here while I perform a quick scan of
your neural pathways. It'll only take a few minutes."

For some reason, I black out.

I feel rain on my face, a light drizzle. My nostrils fill with the
scent of wet plants and damp soil. I open my eyes to discover that I'm
lying on a park bench less than a mile from my flat. That's never
happened to me before: I've always stayed awake just fine for brain
scans in the past, both objectively and subjectively. I summon my
clock application, its translucent display fading into my vision and
out again for just long enough for me to tell that I was out for almost
two hours, which is about right for the journey home.

I stand up, a little giddy at first, and tentatively start to make my
way through the park. By the time I'm striding through the streets,
stepping around all the puddles on the pavement, I've had a few minutes
to reflect on the day's events. I decide not to let Mike or his crony
doctor get to me. Let him be pissed off at me. I'm the last human
assassin. Replacing me with an android would be a terrible PR move,
and he knows it.

Still, I can't overlook the fact that _something_ is terribly wrong,
although it's probably just healthy paranoia on my part to assume that
it concerns me at all. Maybe he's just shielding me f