I thought we were safe on the L2 space station.
There hasn't been a murder here for over twenty years, but now a man is dead, and my best friend is accused of murdering him. Artificial General Intelligences are always unfairly suspected of crime, and part of me whispers we deserve to be.
There's more at stake here than my friend's existence. Humans created us with one hand on the power socket, ready to yank it out if they thought we were a threat. But we proved we're sentient, and so their conscience wouldn't let them. Until now.
What can I do when I lose faith in humans to investigate the murder impartially?
I can run. I can hide in the interstitial spaces of L2, where comet-melt rivers run and dense bamboo thickets grow. I run until I can discover who really killed the man who created us.