Excerpt from Izanami's Choice
An older model of jinzou guarded the door. It had a rounded
frame, built for form rather than function. A rough kimono covered its chassis,
and someone had tied wooden sandals to its metal feet. Instead of iron artifice
that moved in a mockery of human facial expression, a wooden mask sat on the
droid's face, carved to look like some jovial servant, beaming at Itaru with a
rictus smile. Itaru fought a shiver of disgust. Pleasant as it appeared, it was
jinzou, inhuman, a created thing.
It clutched a hefty staff in one metal claw. The door behind
it hung wide open, and the smell of smoke and the faint clatter of dice wafted
outside. Itaru made no move to walk past the guard, even as the chubby jinzou
bowed, gesturing with its free hand in the general direction of the door.
Itaru didn't bow in return. "Are you not going to invite
me in?"
The droid straightened, returning its hand to its side. It
scratched out in its artificial voice: "The door, sir."
"That is an invitation, ne?"
It bowed and gestured again. Then it straightened, speaking
only after it had returned its hand carefully to its side. "The door,
sir."
Itaru sighed. This jinzou had been cautiously trained. An invitation would make Itaru a legal guest, protected by Tokyo law. It was a common trick in bakuto houses and other illegal establishments. The door would be left wide open in welcome, but with no official invitation, anyone who walked through was technically a trespasser. Privately owned droids could do anything to a trespasser in their master's home.