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Why do I, my mother-in-law, and Nava all knock on wood? None of us really know. Perhaps it’s a legacy of the Bronze Age; perhaps it’s a meme from Victorian Britain. What is certain is that it’s not something a robot with an LLM-based brain is going to do habitually, just as robots will never share in mental frameworks deriving from quirks of our physical architecture, like handedness.
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Leon’s old scars will have to wait, anyway. Requiem’s new blood is FBI analyst Grace Ashcroft. Equal parts tenacious and nervous, she’s a fitting lens on the horror portion of Requiem’s split focus between disempowered terror and cathartic action. The story opens with Grace – more acquainted with desk work than field ops – tasked to go over a crime scene at a gutted hotel. She knows the place well, since it holds some horrific memories for her. Still, she heads off with little more than a flashlight and a pistol you’ll never find quite enough ammunition for to feel safe.
Photograph: Simon Hill