Brinus, a sixteen-year-old young man with towering height, his large frame filling the space, sat in the waiting room of the police headquarters at Saffron. He had in his hand his birth certificate, ID, certificate of passing the burglar written exam, and bar license.
In the waiting room, he sat beside the cigarette, soda, and snack vending machines. The gentle hum of the soda machine and warm fountain filled the space. The cigarette vending machine had a card reader on it for ID and wrist chips. The room was smoky, with ashtrays in front of every chair and fifteen out of twenty people smoking in the smoky haze of the room. It smelled like burnt tea leaves, an unpleasant mixture of incense, burnt paper, and charcoal.
He had been waiting for over an hour while flicking his cigarette lighter in a waiting room chair. The lighter felt smooth and soft in his hands, keeping him occupied like a fidget spinner. He had already smoked five cigarettes out of boredom and didn’t want to smoke any more.
An intercom rang out, “Number four-five-four-six. Office number four.”
Brinus approached the receptionist and handed it his ticket. The droid was at a computer terminal behind hygiene glass. “Down the hall to your right, sir. Second door down,” said the droid.
Brinus nodded in acknowledgment.
When he entered the room, a cop greeted him. Brinus looked at him and then around the office. The rooms had a computer terminal, four white walls, blue carpeting, a simple chair in front of a wooden desk, and a white pull-down screen in front of the camera on the Officer’s desk. It was clean and sterile, lacking the decorative furniture and wall paneling commonly seen in Confederate buildings.
The officer came up and shook Brinus’s hand. “Hello, my name is Detective Officer Briggs. I will be conducting your practical today for your professional burglar’s license. Show me your paperwork and any tattoos you have.”
Brinus took off his shirt and handed the cop his papers. On his chest was a gear and monkey wrench with a metal bar. his right forearm had his syndicate tattoo of a red eye. On his left forearm was a pack of cigarettes and an eyedropper next to each other.
The detective looked at the photos on his computer terminal. “You’re an engineer with a specialty in metallurgy? You don’t see that every day.” Detective Briggs chuckled after taking the photo.
Briggs took pictures of his tattoos, and Brinus put his shirt back on.
“Are we done?” Asked Brinus, putting his tee shirt back on. He felt uncomfortable being shirtless and alone with a cop.
The cop smiled as he continued typing on his computer terminal. With a particular joy in his voice, he said, “You know what comes next because of those….” He pointed at the eye drop tattoo.
Brinus groaned. He knew exactly what was about to happen.
The detective took a hair sample of Brinus’s thick, curly, blond hair and swabbed his mouth with a cotton swab. He then put the sample in a tube of liquid. It turned green, which was for AA nicotine.
Officer Briggs looked at the drug test. “How long have you been clean?”
Brinus shrugged, “five months.”
The cop’s eyes narrowed. “So when we run your hair through the analysis, it will show four months of no drug use?”
Brinus nodded. He crossed his arms and legs in a defensive posture.
The cop put his triquarter to the hair sample.
Detective Briggs shrugged his shoulders. “You were telling the truth.”
He rolled his eyes and flicked his head impatiently. “Whatever, can we just get on with it?” He was anxious for a cigarette as he’d been without one for twenty minutes.
“Just a few moments. What brand of cigarettes do you smoke?”
Brinus was shaking his leg and biting his nails. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“How much do you smoke?”
“About five cigs an hour?” Brinus wondered why they were asking these questions.
After the cop went into his smoking history, he hit send on his computer terminal. Brinus wondered who they were sending that data to but assumed it was going to the tarken tea companies.
The cop stood behind his desk. “Now, let’s begin. You need to leave your cigarettes, lighters, your paperwork, and any tools you brought you with you. We will provide you with tools. Ready?”
Brinus emptied his pockets on the cop’s desk and left the office for the simulator.
He was impatient to begin.
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An hour later, The light from passing cars and the planet’s sun hurt his light blue eyes. He had a piercing headache. Wanting to scream at the cop, he kept the frustration to himself. His cravings were making him bite his nails and shake both legs, but he said nothing he put his feet on the dashboard and fidgeted excessively. It had been fifteen minutes since his police interview.
The car itself was self-driving and hydrogen-powered with General AI. It was sleek and shiny and designed for cops and civic workers. This detective’s car was messy and smelled like fast food and sweat. There were empty coffee cups and fast food wrappers all over the cop car.
Detective Briggs sighed and rolled his eyes. He said in his detective voice which was low and gravelly, “Relax, I am not taking you to jail. Your burglary tools are in the back. I need you to break into a clubhouse for us and take their electronic ledger. Here is the map, the intel, a com device, a skimmer, and a license to commit the following crimes: breaking and entering, destroying property in the value of up to twenty-five thousand credits, illegal hacking, and breaking the electronic lock on a computer terminal.”
Detective Briggs noticed the fidgeting and nail-biting, “Here, take a coffin nail. Fuck the rules, you're already addicted. Anyway, These bikers are not involved with legal crime.” He made a mental note that Ginger Cat went forty-five minutes without a smoke before he became anxious for one.
The cop pulled a pack of tropical fruit, Tarken Tea cigarettes, and a lighter from his glove compartment. He had a whole carton in there for criminals. He handed a pack to Brinus, who put one in his mouth and lit it. It was an immediate relief and felt so good. Brinus smiled and began to calm down as he smoked.
Looking at the map, he stated. “I see the building has tunnels from the factory next door.”
The cop snorted in disgust and snapped, “You don’t have a license to break into the factory. Only the clubhouse.”
He sneered, flashing his teeth in a screw-you smile.
The cop snorted again and coughed. “We will be there in an hour; the scanner said traffic control is running speed traps.”
Brinus chuckled, putting his hand out of the window. He snapped, “That’s cute. Forcin’ self-driving cars into situations that to get the driver tickets? What’s wrong? Not gettin’ your quotas this here month?”
The cop growled and coughed, and the car went quiet. They sat in a traffic snarl caused by the AI speed traps.
Brinus sat as he thought to himself as the car drove through the traffic without human input. All of these cops are the same. They don’t care ’bout the people. They only care ‘bout ticket quotas and money. Where were they when my last foster mom was abusing m’ friend? All they did was remove ‘im from the home and brushed it under the rug. Gettin’ this here license’ll be a good way to bring justice to those who wouldn’t get justice otherwise.
He looked at some fast food wrappers and saw they were from late-night take-out places featuring junk food. One place was from a vendor called Candi, where there was a variety of popular street foods and sweets. There was also a wrapper from one of Brinus’s favorite food joints. They served Fried Space Pork Meat Rolls wrapped in dough and fried in animal fat.
Looking at the antenna in his hand, he saw a small three-inch box with a one-inch metal rod sticking out of the top. Brinus hooked it up to his Triquarter and downloaded the police app. He began configuring the settings he wanted as the car navigated the traffic.
Detective Briggs decided to start a conversation with Brinus as they had over an hour before reaching their destination. “How did you end up in the syndicate?”
Brinus sighed as he fiddled with the app. “I was about nine when I got the attention of the Syndicate. I had a fallout with my third foster parent and started acting out. I was already shopliftin’, stealin’, and lyin’ as early as seven, but it got worse. The judge said I could either spend the rest of my juvenile life in jail or join the Orin Syndicate.”
“I read your police file before the exam. I want, in your own words, why did you do it?”
Brinus sighed and frowned. “I wish I didn’t. I was set up by the syndicate. I mean yeah the syndicate has been good to me but every day I live with what I did.”
The cop’s eyes narrowed, and the corners of his mouth hardened. He shifted in his seat. “But why? You didn’t have to shoot that man. You could have just stolen the jewelry and got out of the shop with fifty thousand credits worth of gemstones.”
Brinus laughed, but it was fake, hollow, and forced. He said, “I made a bad choice and was desperate. You’re looking at one of the only criminals who take accountability for what they did.”
The cop sighed and said in a frustrated tone. “You were lucky you were so young, or you would have been tried as an adult. You don’t seem to have had any trouble since you joined the syndicate. In fact, the fact you took accountability is why you were chosen for the syndicate.”
Brinus turned away from the cop, hiding his face with a TriQuarter. However, the cop saw the dilated pupils and watery eyes.
“We can change the subject if you want?”
Brinus wiped a tear from his eye but kept showing his teeth. “I don’t wonna discuss it cuz there ain’t nothin’ to discuss.”
Briggs nodded and watched as he manipulated the TriQuarter.
A TriQuarter was a device like a smartphone but used wetware circuitry and was powered by the body heat of the individual who used it. It also instantly communicates across the galaxy using quantum entanglement.
Nothing more was said after Brinus shut down the discussion. After a few moments of silence, Brinus said, “What’ch ya know about these here bikers?”
Stolen story; please report.
Detective Briggs smiled and spoke in his police voice which was raspy and firm, “For your practical exam, you need to get me the passwords, log-in information, and tracking cookies off of their safehouse network. Basically, these bikers are smuggling eye drops and spaceweed into a wealthy neighborhood. The house you need to infiltrate is the red house with the white roof on the first corner of the neighborhood. Neighbors have filed multiple complaints about this house, and we have had undercover cops buy drugs from his home. We got the electronic warrant last week, so you’re good.”
They came up to a checkpoint. There were two regular police units and four cops in uniform. They had blaster pistols, a shock stick, mustard gas spray, and two sets of handcuffs. Detective Briggs showed his badge, and Brinus flashed his syndicate tattoo on his right forearm. The cop scanned it and waved him forward.
As the car drove down the road into a commercial district. Brinus tweaked the settings on his TriQuarter’s app and sat in the seat, crossing his legs.
“You really like those cancer sticks, don’t you? Aren't you a bit young to be smoking? How do you get them?” The car, by now, was becoming hazy.
He smiled, showing his teeth in his infuriating smile. “Yeah, man, they’re delicious! Ever heard of the black market haha?”
Tarken tea cigarettes were AA nicotine-infused herbal cigarettes made with black tea leaves from several different planets. The AA nicotine was water soluble, super concentrated, and had the same nootropic effects as ADHD drugs. It was also mega-addictive and had severe withdrawal symptoms. This fact was why they tried to restrict access to minors.
The cop then reached into Brinus’s pocket before he could stop him and snatched them up. “You just lost your smoking privileges. I will give these back once we arrive. You’re smoking way too much.”
Brinus cussed and slammed his hands into the dashboard. The rest of the car ride was silent. He became increasingly fidgety after twenty minutes and started biting his nails and shaking his leg after twenty-five minutes.
After a few more minutes of silence, the detective asked, “Why do you smoke so much?”
Brinus bit his nails and shook his leg as he spoke, “It helps with nerves. I guess I use it to cope with stress.”
Detective Briggs sighed and snapped, “You know heavy smoking of tarken tea leaves at sixteen is bad for you, right? You know that nicotine causes high blood pressure and a racing heart at those levels? I mean, yeah, it isn’t tobacco and yeah none of the additives in tarken tea cigarettes are dangerous. Nicotine is a poison and you’ll have a heart attack.”
Brinus rolled his eyes while biting his nails.
The car pulled onto a side street and drove into a quiet neighborhood. It shut off, and the battery continued running. “We have arrived at our destination,” it said in a monotone computerized voice.
Brinus came out of the car and cussed. He had hated the police since his days in foster care. The way police treated the kids with total disregard always stuck with him. Especially when dealing with abusive foster parents. They would always side with the parents because the CPS workers would pay off the cops with bribes to protect their interests.
Briggs coughed and rolled his eyes as he handed Brinus his smokes and lighter back. His eyes were red and watery from the cigarette smoke as they both stepped out of the car. Brinus leaned onto the car hood.
Brinus snapped nervously, “It said that I needed to break into the network data, steal the passwords, login info, and trackin’ data of the club members. Does this here neighbor get a lotta religious workers?”
“Why do you ask?”
Brinus looked around. He saw kids playing in the street, couples walking pets on the sidewalk, and an older couple holding hands and talking about Sunday morning church service. He knew they got missionaries a lot. They looked wealthy and clean, with pearly driveways and manicured lawns.
“What’s the time limit?”
“An hour is the time limit. You get a half-hour additional max for a passing grade, but it will be reflected in your report. After that, you fail your practical.”
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A few moments were needed to interface with the system and download the required information. A clothing shop across the street looked appealing. He walked inside and bought a white undershirt, a long-sleeved dress shirt, a black tie, and a pair of khaki pants. He walked into a public bathroom and put on his clothes. Walking into a printing shop, Brinus spent a few minutes making an ID badge for The Church of The Creator’s Witnesses. He also purchased a holy book at the bookstore.
Smelling like smoke, He went into a perfume shop and put on cologne and deodorant to cover it up in the sample booths. Paying three credits for each sample and 20 credits for the cologne and deodorant, Brinus walked out of the shop. He also walked into a hotel, stole one of the mouthwash samples from a cart, and washed his mouth in the hotel bathroom to cover the smell of Tarken Tea cigarettes. Of course, now he just smelled worse and smelled like perfume.
Brinus blew a large chunk of time on his disguise, but it was worth it as he walked into the neighborhood and saw some kids playing football in the street. He approached one of the boys as they all scattered. He flagged one of them, waving three one-hundred credit chips.
“Hey, kid!” Yelled Brinus as the kids scattered.
One of the boys walked up to Brinus. “What do you want asshole?”
“I’ll give ya’ a hundred credits if ya’ put this here skimmer on the red house’s cable box. Press the red button in the center. Wait sixty seconds, press the button again, and then run off.”
“Are you a cop?”
“Not quite.” Brinus laughed and handed a one hundred credit chip to the kid and the police skimmer.
“I heard really bad people live in that house. If you aren’t a cop or a retard, how can I trust you?”
Brinus smiled and patted the kid on the head. He said with a wide toothy grin, “Would I give a hundred credits to someone just to screw ’em over?”
He walked up to the one percenter biker gang’s door once he saw the kid take the skimmer to the back. Brinus knocked on the door with a deafening knock. It was loud enough to wake the dead.
Brinus looked around to screen the area for an escape plan. The house was just like any other single-family housing unit. It had a manicured lawn—two motorcycles in the driveway. There were no obvious signs that criminals lived in this house.
Some people washed their government cars on the lawns of their houses. Two boys played war with fake military blasters in the backyard next to the clubhouse. An elderly couple walked in the street, holding hands and listened to music.
One of the gang members opened the door. Brinus saw two more inside and a third watching TV.
When he saw Brinus, he screamed and put his blaster pistol to Brinus’s head. “You religious nut jobs were here last week! Fuck off, I will fucking kill you, you fucking fuckwit!”
Brinus screamed and threw his hands in the air in a grand gesture. “Don’t you want to hear the message from our lord and savior, the supreme creator of the temple spirits?! Salvation is at hand!”
The biker gang member fired his pistol at Brinus’s feet. It made a pop like a firecracker, sending a green disrupter bolt at his feet. “I said to fuck off!!”
The Gang member slammed the door shut in his face.
“You will be in my thoughts and prayers, my brothers in faith. May the temple spirits deliver a message of love and hope! We all wish to have your wisdom, love, and joy.”
Brinus began ranting and raving at the door and pounding on it. He also spoke in tongues and began reciting scripture about the end of society and doomsday preaching. Brinus was more focused and alert as he noticed the house was painted red with a white roof. It also had a mailbox, a doorbell camera, and cameras all around the house. He fell onto the ground and began having a fake seizure while speaking in a demonic language that universal translators didn’t translate.
He walked off after sixty seconds and found the kid waiting for him. The kid and his friends had their comm devices out recording him. Brinus handed the kid two one-hundred credit, credit chips. The kid gave Brinus the skimmer.
“Did you get the data detective?” He said into his comms device.
The cop laughed. “Yes, we did, kid! We will finally get that arrest warrant!” The data he received was worth the imposition. As far as he was concerned, Brinus passed.
The cop had his doubts, but Brinus proved him wrong. Now, how would he handle the getaway?
Brinus put the hacking device back into his pocket. Once finished, He jumped the fence and started walking through the neighbor’s yard. He reached into his pocket for a pack of smokes and a lighter but realized it went against his disguise to smoke as he wrapped his hand around the cigs and smoked anyway. He crushed his cigarette butt against the wall of a house when he finished.
A few minutes later, as Brinus made his way back to the detective, two Church of the Creator members approached him. They were dressed just like Brinus, who still had skateboard shoes and no-show socks on his feet.
“How many houses did you spread the message to?” One of the missionaries slapped him on the shoulder and laughed.
Brinus smiled, showing his teeth. The missionaries saw his teeth had a slight yellow stain on them. Brinus wanted to finish this interaction quickly and return to the Detective. “None. I’m goin’ out fer lunch. Ya’ know, the red house on the corner could use your compassion.”
The church members became suspicious. When going on the mission, food and drink were supposed to be suspended for twenty-four hours. This kid smelled like a coffin nail and perfume. He had a smoker’s voice and he didn’t act like a missionary.
The two young men looked at each other and then back at Brinus. They decided to test him. “So, how is Brother Smith doing today? I heard his wife had cancer. Will you pray with me?”
Brinus had researched churches while making his disguise. However, he didn’t have time to memorize the roster of every church. He called their bluff, “Would pastor John from the south-side church really like you calling a fellow believer a liar?”
The two men pulled out a TriQuarter and took a photo of Brinus. This kid was an imposter.
Slapping the TriQuarter out of the religious worker’s hand, Brinus began screaming and throwing a tantrum. He accused the missionaries of accusing him of lying. He started raging in an absolute fit of blind fake rage; he made a scene with profanity, getting into their faces and pointing at their chests. In the confusion, he deliberately stomped on the phone, and It melted, then burst into flames. The two men ran off into the neighborhood.
Brinus ran the whole block down to the officer’s car. He felt Excited, and his heart pounded in his chest. His muscles felt like lead at the end, and he had used up all the fuel when returning to the car.
The cop gave Brinus a fist bump and a water bottle to help with the cough. He sprinted an entire block and was out of breath. A four-pack-a-day habit made Brinus feel like he was suffocating. His mouth was parched, and he was coughing like he had an asthma attack. The water helped, but he had to catch his breath. The detective looked at his laptop at the data collected.
Brinus began laughing. He realized how much fun he had. The adrenaline was intoxicating, and he loved it.
He gave the cop another fist bump, and they smiled at each other. Just before the cop pulled into the street, four religious workers and a silver-haired man in a suit and tie approached the car.
The cop rolled down his window. “Can I help you?”
The Pastor crossed his arms and yelled in an angry voice, “I want to press charges. That boy destroyed my group’s triquarter and assaulted one of my church members.”
Briggs gave Brinus a dirty look and then came out of the car. He reached for the clipboard and began taking down the Pastor’s information until the value of the device was reached.
“How much is the device worth.”
“It is worth what the church pays for it.”
The cop clucked his tongue and sighed. “Which is?”
The pastor rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. “Which is what the temple spirits provided.”
The cop rolled his eyes. “Again, how much was the value of the item that the temple spirits provided?”
The pastor put his hands on his hips and then looked Briggs in the eyes. “I can offer 2000 credits right now if you take Brinus to jail and get him to pay for the triquarter. I will pay another 1000 for three nights in juvi.”
The cop’s pupils dialed and the corners of his mouth hardened. The look on his face was as if the pastor had just called him a racial slur. He took a cigarette lighter to the report, lit it on fire, jumped into the car with all of the men screaming at him, and then the car sped off down the street at full speed. Brinus gave the pastor the middle finger with a big smile on his face.
The cop ruffled the kid’s hair and laughed. “Hey, Brinus, you were amazing. You’re lucky that the pastor didn’t follow proper etiquette with bribes and just assumed I would take a bribe. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind a little extra cash, but that guy was insulting, haha. What made you think about using the religious disguise?”
He shrugged and said, “I don’t know, I noticed the area ’n it looked like an area that’d be frequented by missionaries. Most churches want members from upper-class neighborhoods.”
“How long have you been training?”
“Since I was nine. They trained me in psychology, lockpickin’, disguises, the law, hackin’, programmin’, and math. Really, to do all that, you only need a 4th-grade education. Ya’ only need calculus for most stuff.” Brinus was, of course, exgrating.
“I’m just curious. You don’t seem like most criminals I’ve worked with over the years. Why this life?”
“I love it. The thrill, the adrenaline, the prep. It’s wicked, bruh.”
“So you do it for the challenge? Or because you find it fun?”
Brinus laughed, “Both bruh. I just love it.” Brinus made his first genuine smile the entire time he was with Detective Briggs.
“So, when did you start smoking? What got you started? Like Kid, you smoke way more than most people.”
Brinus shrugged. He was still somewhat breathless and trying to catch his breath from his two-mile sprint. “I guess it was after the robbery, and I hear the man I shot died. I didn’t start with the heavy smoking until I was ten after I got out of juvi. I don’t wonna talk ’bout it, but I also started using Bliss at around that time.”
The cop made a mental note that Brinus began using Bliss and heavy smoking at the age of ten due to some trauma. Bliss was a super concentrated form of heroin given in eyedrop form.
Once they arrived at the police station, the religious workers were in the waiting room. The pastor pointed at Brinus. He shouted, “That is the boy! See! I told you!”
A uniformed cop came into the waiting and came up to the detective. “Did you see him destroy the TriQuarter and assault the missionary?”
Briggs and the cop looked at Brinus, who shrugged. “No, Jack, I did not. Brinus did not do anything violating the terms of his license to my knowledge.”
The cop, the pastor, and the young men. “If you have no evidence, no records, and no witnesses, then it didn’t happen. Now fuck off, or we’ll arrest you for filing a false report!” He came to the pastor and whispered in his ear, “This is what happens when you don’t follow the rules. You should know the procedure for bribing a cop.” The police officer grabbed the elderly man and forced his arm behind his back. They then forced him out of the police station. He then said in a firm voice. “Now, do not come back again over this matter! Good day!”
Briggs turned to Brinus, “Right, I need to go over your test results; you can wait in the waiting room. This part of the test will take thirty minutes. The lieutenant will see you afterwards.”