As tempting as it was to stand there and puzzle over whatever strange series of events had caused such a strange outcome, Laith had to move quickly. Whether PATET recognized the fingerprints or not, there was still the matter of Aster Lockwood. As far as Detective Laith was concerned, he was his first and only lead so far.
And he wasn’t answering his Slate.
“I’m going to find the husband,” Laith told the two forensic analysts. Even if he wasn’t the killer – the prints would have been matched to him otherwise – then at the very least, he might be able to shed some light on his wife’s murder. Maybe he knew her enemies. Maybe she’d told him something important prior to her murder. Even the smallest clue could lead to big breakthroughs. “Meanwhile, I’d appreciate it if you ran those fingerprints again, just in case. Maybe there’s a glitch in the system. If it still doesn’t come up with anything even then…” Laith felt his jaw set. If it didn’t come up with anything even then, they’d be dealing with a range of equally terrible possibilities.
“We’ll let you know,” Izuna said, nodding.
Laith thanked them for their work and left them to search the rest of the house for any forensic clues he may have missed in his cursory investigation of the premises. He slipped into his trusty Camino Forest, with its heavily secured panels that made it look a bit clunky but feel extremely safe, and gave it a new order: “Take me to Greenland Farm, please.”
“Understood,” it replied, and soon they were on their way again, the autopilot making use of the most efficient route based on its analysis of PATET’s live traffic monitoring system. They dipped into one of the A-lanes once they had left the beautiful gated community that was The Hills, and as they went below-ground, Laith was plunged into a tunneled world of passing lights and peaceful silence.
And then he was above ground again, the Camino Forest making its way towards the area known to most as The Farms, with farm after farm stretching out towards the sun in a range of striking vertical arrangements of lush greenery. It’s always a feast for the eyes, Laith thought, admiring the view. These so-called farms rarely, if ever, used completely natural organisms anymore, but he enjoyed the sensation he had when he gazed upon them from below. These towering green giants were one of the many parts of Heliopolis that made it what it was – the sustainable, eco-friendly megalopolis that it had been created to be. Compared to the cities of old – what were now collectively termed the Ruins – Heliopolis, along with its sister cities, was a marvel.
Greenland Farm was easy to pick out from the group of vertical farms. Its helical structure, which made use of the curves and spaces of its shaping to create a set of floral falls all the way up its length, was impossible to mistake. Not to mention it was an integral part of the company’s branding – its logo itself was a green helix, a reminder of the company’s promise to create only the best genetically modified organisms – fruits, vegetables, and herbs – with the most effective nutritional value, taste, and at the best size. It also sold its produce at an affordable price, so that many residents of Heliopolis found its offerings extremely accessible. In fact, Greenland Farm made quite a splash a while back, if Laith remembered correctly. Something about bursting onto the scene with low prices and great produce to match, essentially forcing other farms to lower their own prices in order to compete. That had ruffled some corporate feathers, for sure.
Laith didn’t particularly mind that. He, along with the rest of the inhabitants of Heliopolis, was grateful for the decrease in food prices. The other farms had been, up until the introduction of Greenland Farm, serving up their genetically modified produce at relatively high prices, making it harder for the general population to afford buying too much. Instead, Laith remembered that he and his wife, along with many of his friends and relatives, used to purchase cheaper, more filling foods as their staples – ingredients for home-made breads and cakes, pastas and noodles, and various pre-made sauces to go along with everything. Now that they could get more fresh food for less money, it was easier to have a balanced diet, and he’d noticed his own physical condition improving significantly as a result – not to mention his receding waistline. So, as far as he was concerned, Greenland Farm had done a great thing in forcing the other farms to lower their prices in order to stay competitive and keep consumers interested. They could ruffle those feathers all they wanted, if the outcome was going to benefit the general populace.
The car drove him right underneath the building, deep into the underground parking where it would be waiting for him. He stepped out near an elevator and waved his Slate in front of the call button. He wasn’t a registered employee, which meant the security desk would be notified of his presence, and they’d have to give him clearance. The Slate relayed all relevant information for that, so he placed it back in his inner jacket pocket and pushed his hands into his pants pockets, glancing around as he waited. There weren’t many vehicles left; most employees would have already gone home.
Access granted. Welcome, Detective Alazraq. The words hovered on the glass elevator doors for just a moment before they opened before him with a soft whish, and Laith stepped inside, feeling a bit giddy to see the inside of the farm itself. He’d seen photographs, of course – pictures from the company’s website and news reports – but he was certain that it would be different to see the place from within. He’d always been a bit of a farming aficionado, and vertical farms were a fascinating feat of agricultural engineering. Everything about them was intriguing, and Laith knew almost everything there was to know about many of the designs in Heliopolis.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Take the Greenland Farm, for example. He knew that atop the helical building, there was a condensation collection facility, which helped the farm collect about 10 million gallons of water per year – water that the farm then used in its aeroponic, hydroponic, and aquaponic systems. Given that vertical farms already used up much less water than their horizontal counterparts – over 70 to 90 percent less water, in fact – that setup was nothing to scoff at. Laith had even read somewhere that Greenland Farm generated excess water, which it gave away for use in various industries.
As the elevator ascended the levels smoothly, Laith saw flashes of the different landings, almost all of which gave him glimpses of rows and rows of greens and browns. He wondered if he could possibly ask them for a tour of the place sometime, and if they’d be willing to oblige. Farms usually kept their territories under strict lockdown – only verified employees and guests could enter their premises. The reason for this was that each farm invested a great deal of money into research and development efforts, continuously trying to put out the most delicious and aesthetically pleasing produce at prices that would remain competitive. This included some genetic modification, and each farm had its own ways of getting their fresh fruits, vegetables, and herbs to grow how they wanted them. They didn't exactly like sharing that information with one another.
It was not until he reached the forty-third level that the elevator stopped, and he was greeted by a young man with sunken eyes and a bored look about him. “Detective, welcome to Greenland Farm,” he said, his voice a quiet monotone. The kid sounded exhausted, and the hand that held the tablet seemed to have a bit of a tremor – the kind one gets when their muscles are fatigued. He obviously needed to go home for the day, and Laith almost felt bad for making him stay a little bit longer. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for Mr. Aster Lockwood. Is he here?” Laith asked, stepping out of the elevator.
“Mr. Lockwood left about five hours ago,” the young man said. “If you would like to leave a message, I can make sure he gets it when he arrives tomorrow morning. Can I ask what this is about?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t share information with external parties,” he replied, a bit irked with the young man’s passiveness. “Are you sure your boss isn’t still somewhere around here?”
“Positive, Detective,” the young man replied. “You’ve just found me in the process of doing a final check before heading home myself. There’s nobody else in the building except for the security detail.”
“Alright, then,” Laith said, updating his case log. “Please tell him I was here looking for him if you do see him. I have some questions to ask him regarding an incident that took place earlier this afternoon. And – one more thing. What’s your name?”
The man seemed to straighten a bit at the question, eyeing Laith warily. “My name is Toma Pom,” he told him. “I am Mr. Lockwood’s assistant. I help manage the facility.”
“Thank you,” Detective Laith said, noting this down. “That will be all for now, but please do call the HPD if you see Mr. Lockwood.” When he stepped back into the elevator, a bit disappointed at not having had the chance to explore more of the farm he’d read so much about, Laith took a moment to contact Aster Lockwood’s Slate again, but to no avail. “PATET, search for Aster Lockwood’s vehicle. Is it still here?” Laith asked his Slate.
For a short moment, PATET worked to check. Then the response came: The car registered to Aster Lockwood is not present in the Greenland Farm parking garage.
“Find it, please,” Laith said as the glass doors before him opened and he stepped inside. “And locate Aster Lockwood’s Slate, too.” The sooner he found him, the better.
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Aster Lockwood’s Slate has been located. Please open map marker.
Laith tapped on the map marker on the screen of his Camino Forest’s internal monitor, eager for some new information on what was turning out to possibly be his lead suspect. He was on his way back to the office, and somehow he’d felt he’d wasted his time so far, given how little he had been able to figure out. As soon as the map opened, however, Laith’s heart sank at the location of the Slate in question. Lockwood’s Slate was located out in the Ruins – outside of the limits of Heliopolis, and certainly outside of his jurisdiction – but just close enough that PATET could still pick up its signal. That, of course, was the least of their concerns.
The Ruins were well-known for being a dangerous place rife with outlaws that shunned the order and discipline of the Heliopolis and its sister cities. The Ruins were all that was left of the old cities – those grey, somber places where nature was almost impossible to find and people lived in dense, suffocating urban structures. All of them had been abandoned when the eco-cities began to be established, and for good reason. But this also meant that PATET did not exist there, and thus the hapless inhabitants of the Ruins remained outside of its watchful surveillance, outside of its control. Most of the people there were criminals on the run, while others were outlaws who wanted to live their lives of crime without succumbing to a system that would make that otherwise impossible. In short, the Ruins were a lawless place, full of rundown buildings overrun with dangerous wildlife and various environmentally unfriendly items.
What in the world was Aster Lockwood’s Slate doing out in the Ruins? How did a man like him get out there – or, at least, how did his Slate get that far outside the city’s boundaries? Slates were extremely important and valuable. It was highly unlikely that its existence out there at this very moment meant anything good.
A host of different possibilities clamored for attention in Laith’s already-busy mind, and he worked hard to put them aside for now. Conjecture wouldn’t help him so early on in the case. He needed more evidence, and he needed to find out if this new development had anything to do with Cassia Grove’s murder – and, if so, how the two were connected.
“Track the signal of Aster Lockwood’s Slate in case there is any movement,” he ordered the AI, and PATET accepted the request. Live tracking initiated. Notifications of movement activated.
If Lockwood’s Slate is out in the Ruins, then it certainly doesn’t bode well, Laith realized with a grim frown. This case continued to surprise. He wondered what else he might uncover throughout his investigation into Cassia Grove’s murder.