If a caveman witnessed the technological progress of today, they would faint in both awe and horror. They’d see trees replaced with sleek skyscrapers. Birds replaced with flying cars and planes. Stars replaced with billboards and lights. They’d find that nature and its gods have been replaced by humanity and its hedonism.
Standing in the crime scene, I reach for my voice recorder. It’s an old thing, something that was made from when this country was once called The United States of America. But what can I say? It’s reliable, and it doesn’t have a Chinese microchip. “Continuation on the Wan Sui Raid: the scene of contention occurred inside the Golden Quadrant of New Beijing. Reasoning and degrees of brutality to be determined.”
My electronic left eye darts around with metallic whirs as it records every forensic detail. Bodies. DNA. Fingerprints. Germs. Shell casings. Anything down to a minute detail. The abandoned enclosure echoes as the sound of flying vehicles hum in the distance. Cities are an interesting thing. A story is always happening somewhere.
But the story here seems to be a brutal one. There seem to be a good amount of bodies here. Some wearing white coats stained by red blood and bullet holes. Others wearing black tactical gear and the characters of jun ren on their helmets. I pick up one of the bullet cases. “It checks out,” I say to the voice recorder, “7.62 is the standard caliber that Chinese weapons use.”
Then something midst the scene catches my left eye. It’s a hidden detail, but that just means it’s more valuable. Looking at one of the bodies, my eye commits to a short scan of the scientist. Name: Ishihara Shindo. Position: Head Researcher of Wan Sui Corporation. Status: deceased.
I reach into their pocket to find a wallet. Opening it, I find the usual things a wallet would have, including a family picture. His wife looks beautiful. He won’t see her again. I reach inside and extract a high level key card. It’s possible that the attackers didn’t have the time or the cohesion to get what they were looking for.
I pull out the card and walk to one of the electronic computers. The screen of it is shattered as it struggles to follow its program. “W-w-welcome to W-W-Wan Sui Cor-p-poration!” It’s like hearing a dead body croak. I tap on the screen and scan the card. Hearing a light beep, I enter into Ishihara’s account. I then navigate to “journal.”
“Help me,” it reads. “I stumbled into something I wasn’t supposed to see. I’m supposed to be the one who learns how the world works, but I think I’ve found something I should’ve never seen. I’ve hid it in the cabinet in the main lab. Open it at your own risk.”
I look over to find that exact cabinet. I scan it. Ishihara looks to be a liar. With my right metallic arm, I have a pistol emerge and slide out of my artificial forearm. I aim and shoot. A fiery explosion erupts from it as I holster my pistol back into my arm. It seems that Ishihara wasn’t very keen on letting people in on his secret. Too bad for him, I’ve already noticed the real location of it: the floor panel right underneath his dead body. It was a secret he wanted to take to his grave.
I gently kick his corpse over as it open the panel. It was unnecessary to read the journal entry, let alone shoot the cabinet, I’ll admit, but I always want to be sure that I have every detail of an investigation. No biases. No sides. Just the truth. Low and behold, I find a large briefcase full of documents. It’s made of titanium and has an electronic lock on it. I can decode it when I get back.
Suddenly, my eye darts downwards, like the autonomous organ that it is. Multiple gunmen coming from downstairs, each one equipped with their own suit of polymeric armor. Probably mercenaries. They’re preparing to enter the door I came in through, lining themselves up as they prepare to breach.
I grab a hold of the suitcase as I equip my pistol. I, myself, am wearing a long polymeric trench coat which can stop most calibers, but I do not think it is smart to attack a large group head on. That’s why I am going to make the illusion of a larger force. Using the little amount of time I have, I prop the dead soldiers onto tables and desks as if they were standing. Just as I get the last corpse up, I jump behind a counter and they blow the door down.
Wearing night vision goggles, they immediately push inside and fire at the corpses. With this distraction, I use my bionic eye and arm to accurately blast a bullet into them. One bullet from my powerful pistol was enough to puncture through two of their skulls.
Bullets follow me as I duck behind a second counter. I release a few more shots and watch as they tumble into the floor like lifeless dolls. “She’s over there!” I hear them cackle into their radios. They shoot back at me and I have to hide behind cover. Bullets fly over my head as they make the distinctive cracking sound. I take this time to load a new magazine into my pistol.
With my eye allowing me to see them through my cover, I reach my metal hand over and shoot at them. Each shot is a perfect one, as my hand and eye work in perfect concert with each other. The last handful of the mercenaries are forced to hide behind cover as they return to the hallway. “Hold on!” I hear one of them say. They cock a grenade. I shoot it first.
The grenade explodes in his hand and the last of the group vaporizes with it. My eye scans with infrared vision. The only thing that’s hot is the barrel of my gun and the cooling radius of the explosion. I stand up. There are bullet holes everywhere, even more than there were previously. Such a travesty.
I step around the bodies as I get my voice recorder once more. “It seems that a Doctor Ishihara Shindo was driven to hide a set of documents hidden within a titanium suitcase. These documents seem valuable, as his laboratory was raided by what looks to be military police. Upon my own investigation, and finding of the briefcase, I was confronted by what looks to be mercenaries. No survivors from them.”
My eye detects movement from outside. More gunmen, this time wearing military police uniforms. It seems that multiple factions want this briefcase. Bullets blast through the walls as they start hunting for me. I jump behind a desk as I use my trench coat’s polymer as additional cover. “Step out with your hands in the air!” they demand. As usual, they’re probably going to arrest me on a convenient charge. I’m not going with them. I’ll exit the way I came in.
Bullets continue to bombard the walls as I use the trench coat and suitcase as armor. The projectiles stop into the coat as I sprint down the hallway. Two policemen are waiting at the end. Stepping inside, I shoot one of them in the chest and slam the other with my metal arm. I keep moving through as I make it into the basement garage.
There’s the motorcycle I drive to get inside. I step onto it as I click it on. Then, with a kick, I propel myself forward and the vehicle launches forward with electric propulsion. The air blows against my blonde hair and coat as I blast out the exit.
Landing onto the surface, bullets graze against me as military police vehicles begin to chase me. They siren along the street as they burn marks on the smooth street. “Ting kuai! Ting kuai!” their vehicles drone. “Pull over! Pull over!” It’s somewhat ironic that they give this demand after they start shooting.
I speed through the Golden Quadrant streets as the illuminated lights above shine like stars. There are plenty of cars on the street and above me as I’m forced to weave through them. With my left eye processing every little obstacle in my path, I slither through the cars like an evading snake. “Ting kuai! Ting kuai!”
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The Golden Quadrant is its own little forbidden city where most of the Chinese nationals live. Government, Wan Sui, and all the other powerful figures you could think about live here. As a result, it looks like it’s own slice of prosperity as politics favor those who control it.
Ahead, I see one of the many security checkpoints. A roadblock is being formed just as I speed towards it. Pressing on the gas, I take my chances. With the electric bike screaming like a horse, I charge through the gap just as it gets filled. Bullets graze against my jacket as I keep the suitcase tight to my body. The Golden Quadrant is behind me. I have what I came for. Sounds like a good day.
The rest of New Beijing is nothing like the Golden Quadrant. There’s still plenty of technology and cyberware around, but it looks a lot more like a wild west with modern technology. Once you look past the flying cars, you find the old America that never died. Consumerism, violence, weapons, and the rest that makes up the burger patty of old America.
I’m standing inside a bathroom as I puff on my cigarette. Using the same cigarette, I cauterize my wounds. A few of the bullets managed to cut me, but I’m fortunate to say that I never got hit. Finishing my cigarette, I stomp it out and hide it in a compartment inside my metal arm. I don’t like leaving trails.
I pick up the briefcase and get out of the bathroom. Around me is a decently large outdoor mall as people walk and chatter indiscriminately. “Didn’t you hear about what happened? They say that Wan Sui is coming to New Beijing.” You could write a multitude of books by just listening in to a few of these conversations. Freedom of speech is oppressed by the Chinese Military Police, but I guess you can’t stop the American instinct. Even in the night time, like now, they love speaking their minds.
I sit myself in one of the many bars they have in the place. It’s just starting to rain, but the tarp above the seating keeps us dry. “Evania Searcher! Glad to see you’re back in one piece!” the bartender laughs. I’m not a fan of having people know where I frequent. Miss Alia Fritz is an exception because every good while, I need a good drink.
“I’ll get you what you like.” Three pours of gin, a drop of vodka, and half a pour of Kina Lillet. The last ingredient is hard to come by, but that’s why Alia is the best. “Shaken, not stirred.” She plants the drink in front of me with a content smile on her face. “Just get done with another job?”
“I don’t do jobs,” I respond, “I’m not one of your little mercenaries.” She chuckles as she sits back. “Well, you know me. I gotta find some way to make some money. Besides, I have enough couth to call them employees.” Just as she says this, one of her “employees” walks in and plants a bag on the table. I scan it quickly: it’s a head. “Good job!” Alia says with a smile. She gets the bag and puts it in the back before washing her hands deeply.
Afterwards, she gets a tablet. “Chip please?” The employee hands them a small little drive. It’s essentially a wallet for cryptocurrency, an untraceable and electronic way to pay a man to do anything. “That should be it! Thank you!” Alia chirps. The employee leaves and Alia is back to talking to me.
“You make mercenary work look like a cafe,” I comment. She chuckles in response. “At least I enjoy it. You look like you’re ready to drop dead by the time you show up to the bar. Now remind me, why do you put your neck on the line and get hunted by most groups in New Beijing?”
“Because I want to find the truth,” I say. I take a sip from the drink. It clears my throat and head decently well. Afterwards, I open my arm to retrieve a new cigarette, but Alia pulls the thing out of my mouth. “Smoking and drinking will kill you. Didn’t your truth seeking skills tell you that?”
I had forgotten that she doesn’t like smokers. I will admit that it is additionally ironic that I tolerate the uses of these vices, but I’ll also admit that they’re good at soothing the soul. Not that I have one. But, at least while I’m here, I’ll limit my vice to drinking alone.
A gun suddenly presses against my head from behind. Truthfully, I noticed the man a while ago, but I didn’t think there was any need or drive to do anything about it. “You have a hefty price on your head, you know!” he growls into my ear. The bar is silent with only the sound of the pouring rain echoing the empty air.
“This bar is a safe zone!” Alia yelps, “that means no guns being drawn you damn rookie!” She’s correct. There are a couple areas here where “safe zones” are made so people can conduct business. That means that this man here isn’t very familiar with said business. “Alia, do you want me to just take care of him outside? I’m sure it won’t be long.”
“Do you have a death wish?” the man additionally threatens. I give Alia a look, and she sighs. “Fine. Just make sure it’s not close enough to disrupt business.” Sounds good. I stand up and wave my hand to the gunman. He follows me, still having his gun trained on me. As promised, we get a good amount of distance from the bar.
“Alright! Now that we’re here, I want you to remember my name! It’s the last thing you’ll ever—” I draw my pistol from my arm and shoot him in the head. He falls to the floor as the rain disperses his blood into the cold concrete ground. I retreat my pistol back into my arm and return to the bar.
“That was fast,” Alia says to me. I sit back in my original seat and continue drinking. “Your pistol,” Alia observes, “can I see it real quick?” I don’t see the harm in it. I draw it from my arm and place it on the table. She coos at the intricacy of it. “That looks to be a rare Theta-27. Heard only a few were made before the war. Also heard it’s got the kick of a mule and the strength of one too.” She gets her tablet. “How much?”
“Not for sale.” I put it back in my arm and she sighs in disappointment. “What a bummer.” For a moment, we get some peace as she’s busy tending to customers and I’m busy looking at the television. I sip my drink as I watch the mind-numbing program.
“In recent news, Wan Sui, the prominent CEO and owner of the corporation sharing his name, is said to be visiting New Beijing in the upcoming days in order to discuss the future of his company within the American Autonomous Zone.” Interesting news. I’ll keep that in mind.
Alia comes back to me as soon as she’s done with her last customer. She points to my briefcase. “What’s the news about it?” she asks. I finish my sip. “I don’t know it yet. Found it in a Wan Sui laboratory. Head researcher was taken down by military police.” She coos as she picks the heavy thing up. “Usually the cops protect those those corporation guys.” Well, I guess they made an exception.
I stand up and pay my bill, as well as leave a gentle tip. “You didn’t have to,” she giggles. I consider it payment for good company. “By the way,” she whispers, “I think someone’s following you.” Funny. It took her this long to notice. “I know,” I respond. “Bar behind me. Fourth seat. The skinny kid with a rifle holstered on his shoulder. He takes a good amount of glances at me by using his glass as a reflection.”
“Jesus,” Alia guffaws. “Miss Searcher, you should’ve become a detective. You’d get paid.” No thanks Alia. I pick up the briefcase and head back on my bike. It was a good break. With a click of the electric engine, I head off. It’s time for me to see what’s in this suitcase.
My apartment is in the boondocks. There’s less activity there, and it’s easier to see if people follow me. I’ve lived in multiple places in New Beijing, and places here are where I get raided the least. Thanks to all my data being saved on a public cloud, I don’t lose much by having to do an immediate move.
I head inside of my room and take a deep breath. I hang my coat and get on my computer. I download my voice recordings to the public cloud, and then I look at the briefcase. The lock on it seems to be decently intricate. But when humanity saw locks, they also saw an opportunity to pick it. I stick an electronic lockpick on it and allow it to whir and do its work. It’s just sticking food in an oven and just waiting for the opportunistic click.
I lean back on my chair and look outside as I wait. Even from here in these outskirts, you can see the rest of New Beijing. A city of lights. A city of violence. A city of innovation. A city of chaos. I light a cigarette for myself as I puff it to the view. I also notice that, in the distance, there’s the same figure that was watching me at the bar. Shouldn’t be an issue.
Finally, the briefcase clicks open. I snuff out my cigarette and dispose of it into my arm. With a push and a beep, I open the titanium case. Documents spill out from it as my eye tracks on each and every page. But within the case is an empty slot about the size of a small square. Interesting. Whatever Ishihara died for, it was for something quite particular.
I organize the papers in a neat pile. It looks to be some kind of schematic as it details the dimensions of a cube matching the size of the slot. “The C.U.B.E. is a Cumulative Uniform Biological Entity which integrates itself with a host user. Bullets, fire, and normal threats will not do damage to the user who binds themselves to it. It is imperative that no one takes hold of it.”
Well, considering that the slot is empty, someone took a hold of it. This definitely answers some questions. Most likely, Ishihara was the head researcher in charge of safekeeping the C.U.B.E. He failed. He got punished. Wan Sui and their government associates wanted to cover it up. I’ll upload my notes on the cloud. All I can wonder is this: what happened to the person with the C.U.B.E.?