I managed to avoid other colonel-bots as got to the desired floor. I weaved in and out of small recesses in the walls, where statues had once been (probably all of his likeness) and were now gone from being pawned, no doubt. I found room six-six-nine and opened the door. It immediately locked me once I steeped in and shut it. I scanned the place. Holy shit, if this was a room, I’m living in a goddamn mansion. It couldn’t have been more that a few feet in width and length. It made me think of that broom closet suggestion the colonel made earlier. The place was packed with shit, and I mean packed! There was empty food containers, memorabilia, and hey! Guess I found some of those statues.

Sifting through that garbage, I eventually found his bed. I wanted to hurl from the smell once I did locate it. A few containers of coleslaw were left rotting underneath it all. I forgot to mention that this hotel provides all the food too. Nothing but buckets of simulated fried chicken and synthetic salads. Cabbage is really the only thing that actually still exists in natural form. Who knew it would last this long? I’m sure many former Ukrainian descendants would be delighted and relieved to know that Borsht is still on the menu.

As I continued to peruse through the crap, I began to wonder what exactly I was suppose to be looking for. I mean, they never really told me. Just that I was to search the place… but for what? Perhaps I should have asked that of my wig-challenged boss. Well, after fifteen minutes of having to deal with this horror, I was bout ready to throw in the towel. That is, until, I saw something of interest in one of those discarded coleslaw containers. There was something inside of it, other than the remaining slaw, that is. Jesus, this guy really loved eating this stuff. As I reached for it, I heard a thumb at the door.

“I say––I say,sir! Are you in there? You shouldn’t be rummaging about in Mr. Penner’s place!”

“I’m in the bathroom!” I responded back in a high-pitched voice. It was my attempt at impersonating the former resident. It was just a guess. I don’t remember how the guy talked. “Come back later, okay?”

There was silence for a minute, then the bot spoke again. “Sir, that was the most awful impersonation of the occupant I have ever come to hear. It’s not even remotely close to how he talks.”

Critics… well, I tried. I grabbed the slaw container that interested me, popped open the lid and found… well… a bit-card, of some sort. Never seen one like it before. It was smaller, thick and had a weird circuitry imprinting on it. Most bit-cards are thin, with a black stripe on the back and have several encryption chips embedded on it. This was something new. Well, despite my amazement of discovering it, I placed it in my pocket and headed to the back of the room.

To my surprise, there was a window there. Buried under all that shit, of course. Like I said, this guy kept a lot of stuff. I’m sure there’s a few mummified cats underneath somewhere. I quickly started digging to get to it in desperation, hoping my clumsy attempt didn’t cause a cave-in from the surrounding junk, and then I heard the door starting to unlock. Aw, shit! Here comes the crazy colonel bot!

“I’m naked! Don’t come in!” I shouted, still trying to rummage through the crap. I had my hand on the window when the son-of-a-bitch finally barged through the door. I screamed, “Ahhh! Pervert!”

“I say, are you just toying with me, or are you genuinely this low of intelligence, sir.”

“I leave that for you to decide.”

I gave him a wry wink, kicked out the window and shot head first. Now, maybe I should have thought this through, because, even though I did escape in the nick of time, I failed to take in account of what floor I was actually on. Falling is definitely a scary thing to happen to someone. Most of the time you’re in a dream doing this, screaming loudly and then waking up in your bed in a pool of sweat. Not this time. I was screaming, and the ground was increasingly becoming more visible to my eyes as I plummeted down. I wish I had a moment where things flashed before my eyes. Ya know, like being born, your first kiss, your first threesome… but, nah, I didn’t see anything like that. All I saw was good ol’ pavement and concrete and the look of horror on some of the people in the way.

Thankfully, my ever trusty vehicle, conveniently hovering a few meters away, drifted over to where I was about to make impact and opened the retractible sunroof. A great investment, I highly recommend everyone get one installed. The AI was smart enough to know I was in need of rescuing and prepared for my rough, and rather painful, landing. I smacked into the plush backseat and discovered that, even though it was rather soft to sit on, driving your body to it at the speed of sound was far less comfortable than one would think. Once I had made contact with the metal floor underneath all that soft-cushion. The car closed the roof and flew off into the rush-hour sky traffic.

“Objective accomplished,” The sexy voiced AI announced to me. “Proceeding to the next stop assigned.”

“Terrific…” I managed speak. Though, I think my face was far too much in to the seat to be legible.

I think a moment of unconsciousness was warranted, as I let my body recover from that terrible ordeal. I’ll check for broken bones and other vital body parts later. Hello darkness my old friend…

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

* * *

I”m not entirely sure how long I was out, a few minutes, hours––days, perhaps? No, not that long. I doubt this smart car would allow me the luxury of being in a coma. Sure enough, it roused me from my mental break and pinged repeatedly that we had arrived. Slowly, and carefully, I rose up out of my impact crater from the backseat and made the usual noises of someone yelping in pain. My muscles were stiff, bruised and I think slightly damaged. My bones, lucky for me, were fine. Perhaps a minor fracture in the leg, or knee area, but, I’ve had worst. I”ve managed to fall a few times during this job, perhaps not as high as that one, but enough to make me realize that bones are not solid as steel.

“Where are we?” I groggily asked it.

“Downtown Davencore, Wally’s Emporium Shop on eighty-six New Hambert Street.”

“Wally’s?” I said with confusion, giving my neck a crank as to correct the angle. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“This was the last instructed course you provided, before the deviation of the assignment you were given.”

“Uh-okay, sure…” It took a minute, but I quickly recalled. “Oh, right… this is where I was going after the removal. Shit, I forgot. That’s babe…”

My wrist snapped as I moved, causing me to curse over and over until the throbbing stopped. I must have put it back where it was supposed to be.

“If you are in need of medical assistance, I can proceed to the nearest medical facility…”

“No!” I quickly shouted, thrusting my hands out as if she could see me. “No, just, here is fine. Thanks a bunch.”

“As you wish.” She chirped back pleasantly.

Going to a “hospital” in this century is like going to the mortuary. You may go in, but you’ll come out as a corpse, if you’re lucky. More so for Sweepers, because if you can’t do your job, or too injured to carry on with your tasks, that’s pretty much the end for you. Sweepers always seek out “off-the-grid” type of medical providers. The ones that don’t report straight to the NCCEA. Once you get on their radar for any injury through their system, you’ve pretty much painted a target on your back. No thanks, I prefer to limp and get paid without compromising myself in the process.

The door slid open for me as I poured my broken body out of the seat. Just before I could stand up onto the sidewalk, the sweet-butter voiced AI caught my attention again.

“Don’t forget the coleslaw.”

“What? Oh! Oh right, the… ah, the coleslaw.”

I saw it on the floor, looking less battered than I was. It was surprising she mentioned it to me. Are her internal sensors that sensitive? Could she make out what was in my pocket? Or the backseat for that matter? Well, whatever… I really didn’t want to debate it at this point. I scooped it up and placed it back in my jacket pocket. Once I was clear of the door, she firmly shut it on me, again. I’ve defiantly got to see about having her put in for maintenance. It’s like having a angry ex-girlfriend driving you around.

“Park around back, will ya sweetness? I don’t want the rift-raft to know there’s a hot bitch like you just begging to have her parts grabbed off.”

The car said nothing back to me. It drove off as told, and left me standing there. Yep, defiantly like an ex-girlfriend. There wasn’t even so much as a, “Sure thing” or “fuck you asshole”, as AI took off. I would have taken either-or, at least then I would know that this a meaningful relationship, of a sort. I placed my right arm back into its socket, let out a loud yelp, gave it a few rubs and headed for the door to Wally’s Emporium. The only store occupied on this entire strip. Not because of the low population, or lack of business, but because he pretty much bought all of them out a long time ago.

Wally, other than being fat as shit, is a special type of guy, and a special type of shop owner. Fat as he is, the man is very smart and really good at knowing how to keep the customers coming back––by being the only viable shop within the area. No competition, no problems setting your own prices. Like I said, smart. I entered the shop. The door gave that usual soft tingle of a bell when customers step in. The man does enjoy the classics, I’ll give him that much.

“Be with you in a second!” He said from somewhere in the cluttered and messy store.

“Fuck me, haven’t you cleaned this place yet, Wally?” I causally announced. “It looks like the last place I just came from.”

“Hey—hey-hey!” He cheerfully replied. “If it isn’t the worst asshole of Earth! I’ll meet you at the counter in a second. Try not to kill anyone that comes in!”

“I make no promises…”

That’s the running joke between us. He knows what I do for a living, and he knows that I can’t kill him for making such stupid lame-ass remarks like that. I could, if I really wanted to… but the gun wouldn’t let me. It has a identity code scanner. It can assess if the person is due for removal, or if they’re in any violations that bumps them up to top priority. It does this all in the matter of nano-seconds. Lucky for him, he’s not due for a good number of years. As a former employee of the original institute that created the tech for all this, he’s been given the golden pass that only a handful are allowed.

Eyeing the shop, I can see every kind of technology, memorabilia, and personal items that Sweepers at one time or another have pawned to him. We kill, take whatever’s left off the remains of the victim (which isn’t much half the time), and bring it here. This is the go-to place for all of us. We give him the stuff, he gives us extra credits, and then sells it to those that are still living and in need of it. The man knows how to survive, smart, really smart. Now you can see why he can afford to buy the entire block. Who’s going to argue with the man that deals with all the Sweepers?

“What ya got for me today?” He continued to shout, from wherever he was hiding. “It’s not more porn is it? I’ve had my fill of that shit.”

“No-no-no…” I replied, trying to sound reassuring. “I’ve got something else. I need you to take a look for me.”

As I pulled out that damaged coleslaw container and placed it on the wooden counter, I heard the sound of something click just behind my right ear. I froze for a second, trying to remember where I’ve heard that before; it sounded like a mechanism, old, possibly very ancient, something you’d have to pull back on. Then, my eyes shot up, I did know what it was. Turning slightly to look behind, I saw the barrel of classic three-fifty-seven magnum pointed at me. The Stirling silver kind. And holding that weapon, with a mop of greasy long hair, thick rimmed glasses and scruffy full beard encrusted with potato chip bits in it, was Wally. The fat fucker grinned at me, his pudgy lips quivering as he tired not to laugh, and dug the gun into the base of my skull.

“You got any chicken with that coleslaw, bitch?”