Voss froze. His head whipped toward her. In the glare of the patrol car’s light bar, his face was a mask of terror, not malice. His hands shot up—empty.
Subject displaying pre-assault indicators. Weapon prediction: knife, 82% confidence. Neural sync authorized. You are cleared to draw your sidearm, Officer Cross.
It was about judgment. And no computer could ever own that.
“Elias Voss,” Lena read aloud. “Petty theft, two priors. FASiSO says he’s about to hit the 24-hour mart on 8th and Main.”
Match found. 2147 hours. 8th and Main. Subject: Elias Voss. Probability of armed robbery: 97.4%. Recommend immediate interdiction.
Then she saw it. Tucked into his waistband: the corner of a plastic handle. Not a knife. Not a gun. A baby’s sippy cup.