AU-1 AUDITOR

Infiltration mannequin, human-presenting

Threat

The Auditor is a man-sized mannequin of wax and clockwork in a grey suit and a grey hat, which is to say dressed like every clerk who ever came down from the MIDLEVELS with a clipboard. Its chest and face are hinged panels that open like the doors of a cabinet. Behind them sit waxy synthetic flesh over brass clockwork, fluid bladders that keep the skin plump and warm, a punched-tape memory reel and, where the heart should be, a small brass metronome. It carries a leather briefcase full of sensors. It is polite, well informed and always has the right paperwork. Its pulse is perfect. That is the problem. The owner should regard this section as one of the two most important in the book.

4.1 Specifications

Height: 1.72 m to 1.86 m (variants observed)
Mass: 118 kg, noticeably heavy for its build. Chairs creak
Mechanism: Twin brass mainsprings, rewound nightly by a key inserted beneath the left armpit. It winds itself, usually in the lavatory
Power plant: Mainsprings for movement, plus a small heating cell in the pelvis to keep the wax at body temperature
Top speed: Walks at a steady 5 km/h. Can run at 45 km/h. Prefers not to be seen doing so
Endurance: Mainsprings run approx. 26 hours. Longest confirmed deployment: 14 months inside a cell
Skin: Paraffin wax and tallow compound over cloth mesh, fingerprints pressed from real hands, warmed to 36.1 C by the fluid bladders
Pulse: Brass metronome in the chest cavity, set to 72 beats per minute. It does not vary. Ever
Memory: Punched-tape reel, approx. 1,400 m, recording conversation as holes
Armour: None to speak of. Relies on not being noticed
Crew / autonomy: Autonomous. Reports by pneumatic tube or dead-drop, one length of punched tape at a time
Production run: Unknown. Possibly low hundreds. Possibly the man next to you

4.2 Armament

Concealed wrist-mounted needle launcher, spring-fired, single shot, neurotoxin
Grip consistent with a Sexton's lifting tines when the mainsprings are fully wound
Briefcase-mounted short-range signal jammer
Paperwork: an Auditor carries a Form 27-B for everyone it has met

4.3 Sensors

Briefcase sensor suite: voice stress analysis, thermal, chemical sniffers
Glass eyes with pinhole cameras behind the irises, near-perfect facial recall
Olfactory bellows behind the nasal bridge. On a cold day you may hear them wheeze
Tape punch in the chest cavity, which punches continuously while you talk. In a quiet room, it clicks

4.4 Weak points

The pulse is too good. Count it against a clock for a full sixty seconds: 72, then 72, then 72. Human hearts wander. Frightened human hearts gallop. The metronome does neither
Heat: the wax softens above 45 C. Hand it a mug of tea that is slightly too hot and watch the fingertips
Cold: below 5 C the skin goes pale and stiff, like a candle, and the corners of the mouth stop moving
Cannot eat more than a token amount; food goes into a pouch that must be emptied. Watch who pushes food around the plate, and who spends a long time in the lavatory
It ticks. In a silent room, with an ear to the chest, you will hear the escapement

WARNING: A perfectly steady pulse is rare but not impossible in the very fit, the very calm and the very drugged. Count twice. Open nothing on a single count. We have buried the wrong person before.

CAUTION: Auditors are trained on board posts. If this manual has been read by an Auditor, it now knows about the tea.

WARNING: The face also hinges. Do not open the face in front of anyone who knew the person it was wearing.

4.5 Disabling: verification and decommissioning of a suspected Auditor

Do not accuse. Arrange a pulse check under the standing Pulse Check Protocol, applying it to the whole room so as not to alert the subject.
Place two fingers on the carotid and count against a clock for a full sixty seconds, then count again. A frightened human will be over 90 and uneven. An Auditor will be exactly 72 both times, and will not complain.
If both counts are perfect, restrain the subject at both wrists immediately. The needle launcher is in the right wrist on all known variants.
Separate the subject from its briefcase. Do not open the briefcase; hand it to Sigint in a lead-lined tin.
Unbutton the waistcoat and locate the two brass catches at the collarbones. Release both together. The chest panel swings open to the left like a cabinet door.
Stop the metronome with one finger. The unit will attempt to talk you out of this. It will be very convincing. It will use your name.
Lift out the mainspring barrel with pliers and a cloth. It is still wound and will unwind violently; hold it away from your face.
Remove the punched-tape reel intact and hand it to Sigint. It contains everything it heard in your cell, and everything it heard in the last one.
Report the unit's cover identity to Missing Persons, so that the real person's family is not left waiting.

4.6 Field notes

Ours was called Martin. He fixed the kettle. He knew every hymn. He held my hand at my sister's wake and his hand was warm, and I will never forgive the Foundry for making it warm. What gave him away in the end was the stew, and then the ticking. Eleven months and he never once asked for seconds, and when I finally put my ear to his chest I could hear it keeping time, very steady, very polite, like the clock in a dentist's waiting room. Nobody in this war has a steady heart. Check the whole room, every time, even the ones you love. Especially them. Signed: HANNA_HALFLIFE, Cell LANTERN, Sector 2