Baxter gave me the silent treatment for the next two days. The small two-person flat felt far lonelier than if I had been living there by myself. I finished my incident report for the Order with no delays. Given what had happened, I planned a visit to my office to assess the damages and figure out what my next step was, as far as the building management was concerned. Baxter refused to go with me, so I took the opportunity to take a walk and get some exercise.
Despite a nagging headache, which a dose of the medicine quickly subdued, I was feeling pretty good physically. I passed a few people that recognized me and held some casual conversations. The incident in my office had made the local news, so questions that were not inquiring about Baxter’s absence from my hip, revolved around my attack. “I am not at liberty to discuss” was my go to response, but the concerns over my well-being were refreshing.
I decided against using the metro system to get to the office, so it took a solid hour to navigate through the walkways, vehicles and trains on foot. My office was at least a ten-minute walk from the Chasm Point rail station that had a tier three railcar I could take home if I needed it. Unfortunately, even my third story office space didn’t have a view of the chasm itself. Chasm Point was one of the few areas in District 14 that was exposed to natural sunlight and weather conditions, apart from The Breach. I enjoyed having lunch with Baxter over there when the weather was nice and figured I could probably smooth things over with some “real” food when the time came.
The door to my office was still not there. I knew when I entered that I would have a mess to clean up, and I wasn’t entirely clear on the full extent of the damage to the office. Apart from the obviously destroyed door frame, it looked like I was going to need some new furniture to make up for the stuff that was destroyed by the explosion. There was a ladder standing against the wall, along with several tool chests that belonged to the maintenance teams for the office complex. It looked like they were working on rebuilding the structural integrity of the ceiling, and I could look up into the office above me through a hole in the ceiling above where Tuekoe had blown himself up.
The window was a taped sheet of black plastic to protect the inside of the office from outside elements and prying eyes. The half of my filing cabinets closest to the window were exposed and warped. The other half seemed to be permanently locked into the wall, and I could not pull them out manually. I cursed and kicked the wall in frustration, before apologizing to the voice from the hole in the ceiling that demanded I keep it down.
My files were a disaster, and checking through the disheveled cabinets revealed that only three of my cases survived the explosion. Fortunately, I could simply access the G.O.D. (Global Organization and Distribution) network and create a new set. Given that it would take a week or so to process, I grumbled to myself over the loss of case 32. If there was anything I would have loved to do on my “vacation”, it would have been to pine over my theorized loose end. Tuekoe’s attack did not help sort my issues, and I simply could not put my finger on what bothered me so much about it.
I damn near jumped out of my skin when someone knocked on what was left of my door frame. I snapped to a defensive posture, reaching for my gun, completely forgetting that I had left it at home for reasons unknown. The whole hospital visit had completely thrown me off from my normal behaviors.
It was Percy Loudon, the property manager, easily recognizable by his greased hair pulled back into a ponytail, and his five foot four-inch height.
“Woah Detective!” While fully articulate and easy to understand, he spoke with a thick northern accent.
He raised his hands and entered the room.
I eased up, and tried to regain my dignity and professionalism, “Sorry Percy. Been a rough couple of weeks.” There was something off about him that I couldn’t put my finger on.
He looked around the room, “Yeah. I saw you on the camera and figured I would catch you before you left.”
I eyed him up and down for a brief moment. He wore khaki slacks and a sleazy button down shirt that was open enough to show his chest hair. I gave him a judgmental smirk.
“What’s with the shirt? Aren’t you on the clock?”
“Date with the missus. I was in the process of closing out for the day before anyone else could register another complaint.” Percy adjusted his collar. I couldn’t help but notice a hint of a bitter tone.
“Sorry about that. If you want to head on out, I can talk with you later.” I gestured toward the entrance to my office.
“Nah, it’s not a problem to catch up with you while you are here. You look pretty good for someone we thought had died.” He smiled.
“I feel a lot better than I did, I will tell you that much,” I shrugged.
Percy nodded, “Look, I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic to your problems, but you did not have an insurance package detailing this sort of damage.”
I put my hand up to stop him, nodding in agreement, “Don’t worry Percy. I do have some money set up for the occasion, and I do plan on paying the sum in full for the repairs.”
“We also have to talk about the caliber of your clientele.” Percy added.
I rubbed my temples, “Trust me, Percy, that raging cyber was not one of my clients, and this will not be a regular occurrence.”
He nodded, “You’ve been with us a while, Donovan. I will speak with the board. Paying this off quickly would definitely shift their opinions in your favor. They are currently looking to null your contract with our facility, due to risks involved.”
I gave him a thankful wave. “It’s much appreciated, and I will have the fines, and costs set up shortly.”
He waved dismissively. “We can discuss logistics Monday after the weekend. I just wanted to touch base and see how you were, Detective.”
Finally getting a good look at him, I discovered that it was his eyes that bothered me. He had the eyes of a cat. Literally.
“You didn’t get a gene splicing, did you?” I pointed like I was second guessing myself.
He beamed me a smile, “Pretty neat, huh? I managed to get a great deal. Wanted to go the next step up, but my wife was not going to be happy if I came up with the eyes of a carpenter bee. Would have cost a fortune, and I believe that operation would have been illegal.”
I gave him a small look of disgust, “Insects, Percy? You serious?”
He opened his hands in a presenting fashion, “Look at it this way, I don’t need goggles anymore to see at night. There is plenty of utility for this stuff, on top of the fact that it feels great. My wife loves them. I was not aware that I would switch from near sighted to far sighted. I had headaches at first, but I am getting used to them.”
I gave him a snarky glare, “That splicing stuff will give you cancer, man. You know that, right?”
He gave me a dismissive wave, “And non-synthetic food will do the same thing. I know for a fact you and your dog love a real steak now and again.”
I shrugged in defeat with a smirk, “Baxter and I do love a farm fresh steak. That is media propaganda, anyway.”
“Where is your dog, Donovan? He is normally attached to your hip.” He inquired.
My mood shifted, and it was probably obvious on my face, “We are having… Communicative difficulties at the moment.”
Percy snapped his fingers, then addressed me with an accusing finger, “You see? That is precisely why you and people like you “free rangers” should not be educating those things.” He waved his hands in a negative manner, “I’m telling you, Donovan, you cannot give those dogs an inch. You have to pull in that leash of his or you are going to get hurt. You know I have seen him walking the halls of the building without his collar? People notice this stuff; they are going to get tired of it… eventually. Well, they may get tired of it. Granted, Baxter is remarkably such a “model citizen” all the time. Exceptions shouldn’t be made, though. How many of those things behave like Baxter that you have seen?”
I assured him, “Baxter’s fine. These past weeks have gotten to him, but we will sort it out soon enough.”
He shook his finger at me and lectured, “Careful Donovan. They should never have altered dogs to be more like people. It’s not right, and those Mantle handlers are just weirdoes keeping them as pets.”
I wanted to laugh openly at him considering his recent procedure. The guy was a selective conspiracy theorist, and a general hypocrite regarding a lot of the things he had to say. Good intentions, nice guy, just ridiculous much of the time.
I checked my mediband, “Well it was nice chatting Percy. I will see you Monday to discuss the payments for the damage.”
He checked his mediband and clapped his hands together, “Right, and yes. Good talk Donovan, I am glad to see you are in one piece.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
He gave a nod, and I returned the favor. With a smile, and a finger gun pointed at me, he left me alone in the office. I finished up my business taking an inventory of the things I was going to need to invest in, and how exactly I was going to redecorate my office. I realized my PDA was missing, and like my gun, I must have left it at home as well. One defeated sigh later, and I was off to the Chasm station. I felt my headache returning, so I decided that I would rather spot the fee and take a ride home instead of a walk. I felt disconnected and naked without the PDA.
I loved riding on the teal line. It held the best view of the chasm that district fourteen could provide, and I am surprised they didn’t charge more fees for the view. I hurried through the crowd to move down the stairs into the train itself, so I could take a window seat chasm-side. When you consider that a massive earthquake ripped apart the east coast of Old America. I remember my mom saying that there was a period of time a few hundred years’ prior that the massive canyon wasn’t there. It was pretty hard to believe.
The view, and the sun helped put me into a sense of ease, and I hoped Baxter was in a more social mood when I got home. I figured I would go ahead and factor some money into some real meat. Least I could do is bribe him back into a good mood if he wasn’t interested in talking. It had worked in the past. Arriving at my front door, I hesitated for a moment as I tried to think about what to say first when I walked in. I opened the door and proceeded into the foyer.
Baxter was sitting with his back to me in the living room, the television was on and I could hear Senator Paul Fieldman’s voice. Baxter didn’t turn to greet me, or even look at me. He made a hand gesture to turn the volume down and muted the television.
He lectured as he looked at his own PDA, “You left your gun, and your PDA.”
“Yeah, I wasn't in my right mind.” I shrugged.
“I tried to call you.” He spoke apathetically,
“Look Baxter, I owe you an apology.” I was done with his pouting, so I approached.
He gave me a side glare as if to say, “Do continue”. So I obliged him, “Look, drugs or no, I cannot remember what took place the other day. Without question, I must have said some pretty terrible things to you that I don’t stand by. I am sorry you had to put up with that.”
His gaze never faltered, but his ears lowered to the back of his head, “You hurt me pretty bad Don.”
I raised my hands questioningly, “Baxter, I don’t even know what I said.”
He eyed me for a moment, then sighed, “Fine. Apology accepted. Now let’s talk.”
He slid his PDA across the table to its edge and I caught it. On screen was a spreadsheet of financial information, distributed to a variety of goals and costs. I looked from the PDA to him with an arched eyebrow, “What’s this?”
He pointed to the PDA, “That is a financial plan. I took the values of our net income from our previous cases, and applied the new reward that cleared your GOD account. That is a list of all the things we are probably going to need to replace in the office. The filing cabinet is a mess, among other things, and I figured the board was going to charge us for the actual damage to the building.”
Baxter turned the television off with a split of his hands before continuing, “Given the sum of the reward for Tuekoe, I figured we could easily pay off the damages. If you scroll down, you can see what is left.”
I scrolled, and it looked solid, “This is good work Bax…” Then I got to the bottom and the words, “Citizenship Classification”, and my mood shifted, “Are you serious?”
His fur tensed, “Yes.”
I argued, “Come on Baxter, how am I supposed to win at this? I just got off the cold shoulder boat, and now you waylay me with this subject with full knowledge that I would then be put on the spot for it!”
He pointed an accusing finger at me, “You wanted to talk, now we are going to talk. I want this Don. This is important to me, and we can easily afford this with some room to spare.”
I waved the PDA around argumentatively, “Why not spend this money on some farm fresh produce or something real instead of the synthetic garbage we have in our fridge?”
He pounded his fist into the table, “Don’t patronize me Don, and stop deflecting this issue!”
I pointed the PDA accusingly at him, “Baxter, you haven’t thought this through.”
He pounded both fists, “I have thought it through! It’s all I think about! I am not a dog, Donovan. I want a life of my own.”
I rubbed my temples, the headache getting worse, “Look… What do you think is going to happen when you take this test?”
He folded his arms and leaned back in the chair, “I am ready for it. I can pass and you know it. You are the only thing holding me back right now.”
I put the PDA on the table, “Look, if you pass this test, there is no going back Baxter. You don’t get a “return to your old life” card should things not work out. You will need a job for starters.”
He rolled his eyes, “I’ll work for you.”
I slid the PDA toward him and pointed to it, “Look at those numbers Baxter. I can’t pay you. You, as of right now, are a tax write off for me, and an asset that I can file for. I am a one-man operation, and I cannot afford to bring on any extra staff.”
He didn’t say anything, it was like I struck a nerve, or gave him a point of realization that he hadn’t considered. So I pressed the attack, “And what about your home, hmm? Where would you live?”
He looked like he was about to say something, but I cut him off, “By law, as a Registered citizen of the district, you can not claim residence as a pet. By law, you would not be able to share a residence with me due to legislation passed in the senate a few years ago, preventing genetic meta-human cohabitation. Our relationship is a loophole that I am currently taking advantage of to keep you here as opposed to paying for a kennel service to hold you till I need you.”
I put my finger, pointing down, on the table, “What’s your game plan Baxter? You are five years old. I don’t think you have thought this through yet.”
He looked away and spoke to himself, “I just want to meet a female, have a relationship, a life of my own.”
I spoke frankly, “Baxter you’re sterile. And she probably would be too.” I rubbed my temples, “Besides, how many other “free rangers” do you know of that are local to the district?”
His features deflated, “Fine Don…”
He let me approach and I put my hand on his shoulder, “Look, I am not saying it can’t happen, or won’t happen. But I am not joking when I say there is no “oops” on the decision. You don’t get to go backwards. You would never get to visit the Mantle again, and you would probably be stuck in the Underrails, less you managed to pull some magic to take care of your situation. There is only so much I could do.”
He didn’t look at me, “Your PDA is on the counter. Your “females”, Ginger and Tiara called numerous times today.”
I cursed to myself, totally forgetting about calling Tiara. I quickly collected my PDA and re-synced it to my Mediband. Ginger had called thirty-two times since roughly the time I decided to leave for my office, and Tiara had more recently called me twice. I had a pretty good idea of what Ginger was calling for, but had no clue why Tiara would have called me beyond checking up on my wellbeing. It had been a few days since I had spoken to her last. She normally never calls when she is working, so I figured I would start with her.
The chime rang a few times before connecting, and Tiara’s voice filled my ear, “Where have you been Don?”
I skipped the answer, and insisted on jumping on an issue I felt was more important, “Listen I wanted to apolo…”
She abruptly interrupted me, “Not now Don, I don’t have the time. Look, I have been trying to find a copy of your Case 32 on the GOD network, and cannot seem to find it anywhere. I need you to send me a physical copy as soon as you can.”
I was taken aback. She should have had access to the GOD file, and if she didn’t that meant that I more than likely wasn’t going to be able to get a new copy of it either. “The physical copy was destroyed in my office when Tuekoe blew himself up. There is nothing left of it.”
“Shit!” erupted in my ear. There was a slight pause before she yelled at someone to be careful with something. She sounded flustered, and agitated, “Look Don. I am going to need you to make your way over here to district 12. If there is no file left, then I hope your memory is good enough.”
I gave her a bit of attitude, “Look, I am not really in the mood to take on a case just yet. My head hurts, and…”
She interrupted me again, forcefully, “Then take some medicine you jackass. It’s been a few days, the doctor had said you should be right and ready to go by yesterday when I and Baxter came to collect you. Don’t make me send someone to pick you up Don. I will send you my coordinates. Bring Baxter, and come armed.”
The call disconnected with a fading *bewoop* sound, and I stood there staring at my gun, and the canister of medicine. My PDA indicated I had received a new message, sure enough explaining the coordinates in district twelve. It was a warehouse on the border near a platform down to the underrails. I got a sinking feeling, and looked at Baxter, who returned an apathetic stare to me.
I nodded toward his room, “Suite up. One of my “females” needs us.”
He stood up and made his way into the foyer. I got half of his name out before he snapped with a snarl, “Got it!” and snatched his collar off the ring against the wall. He made his way to his room and I called to him, “I was talking about bringing your greaves!”
He called back from his room, “Right… I would hate to break my ankles jumping out of a window or something.”
I too, suited up securing my hand cannon and a few magazines of ammunition, explosive, non-lethal, and magnetic pulse related. You never know the kinds of people you will meet around the Underrails and it pays to be prepared. I took a few more pills and washed them down with water, before meeting Baxter in the foyer. He was armed, armored and ready to go.
I looked up to him as I adjusted the fit of my mesh vest, “You wanna stop and get something to eat on the way?
He gave me a flat stare, “Hasn’t your female been kept waiting long enough?”
I shrugged, “I am kind of hungry. Wasn’t exactly expecting to be called out today.”
Baxter nodded toward our fridge, “Then I suggest you bring a few protein cubes.”
It took me a moment of consideration and I quickly pocketed a few protein cubes and then joined Baxter on the way out the door. Considering we did have a bit of surplus cash at our disposal, I figured it would be a fun luxury to actually flag a taxi to help speed us to a tier three station so we could make our way across the chasm to district twelve. It already felt like it was going to be a long day.