My eye slowly opens to the sight of Reno during the day, the faraway sky cars look like flies cutting through the sun’s faded light. When I dream I see with both eyes, yet when I awake it is just the one.
______________________________________________________________________________
I sit on my bed, buried underneath mounds of blankets, and tearing through different browsers and data hubs looking for anything I can find about Orbinc. An interplanetary conglomerate centered right here in Nevada. All victims, Audacity included, possessed an optic of that brand. Just about ninety percent of the population use Orbinc products, they even provide free procedures for RMPD officers. To say that they were “well-loved” would be an understatement, half of Reno’s industry ties back to them. They have their central manufacturing plant a couple of hours north of Las Vegas around a town in which I cannot find the name or precise location. That entire area is completely covered in garbage. Miles upon miles of scrap, trash, and scavengers. I haven’t the slightest idea of how they could fit an entire town somewhere out there with little to no information present. It must be buried deep beneath the filth, or non-existent. I suppose that the best course would be to call the customer helpline, I have to start somewhere.
______________________________________________________________________________
“Hello, this is Cherry, Orbinc customer service, how may I help you today?”
“Hello ma'am, my name is Rico Walker with the RMPD, how are you doing today?” I ask.
“...” Silence lingers on the other end of the holo.
“Miss Cherry?”
“Yes, how can I help you, Officer Walker?”
“I received a report of a sexual assault case in one of your facilities, the one North of Las Vegas,” there is a slight shift in her mic quality, and she began a recording. “Could I please get the name and address of the facility for my report?”
“I appreciate you calling, I’ll direct this issue to our internal affairs department, they will take care of everything.”
“Great, I’ll hold on.”
“No officer. We will take it from here,” Her voice stiffens. “NA Territories code article six, line three, states that, ‘company towns are permitted to administer their private judgment over internal affairs, then allow police involvement only after a decision has been made by the board of directors.’ So your services will only be needed when the board has addressed and investigated the situation.”
Damn. Nowhere else goes with this.
“So, if you could please relay the information the worker provided to you, I’d be happy to send it along to upper management.”
“Can I at least get an address for the town, should you need me to come by eventually?”
“Don’t worry, we have your name and badge number already, Officer Glass.” She says, her final words blaring like a storm siren in my head.
I close the call immediately.
______________________________________________________________________________
Going out to the badlands is a bad idea, but if that’s where this nameless city is, then so be it. I need to talk to their director and figure out if there is some deficiency on the line or corporate sabotage. I shouldn’t be surprised that a corporate number could break through my seclusion firewall on my holo line, but I can’t help but feel as though a noose will shortly tighten on my neck as I get closer to whatever is behind this incident.
If I’m to go further, I need to acquire a firearm. The number of shadows will only grow, and I can't rise to meet them with only my bony fingers and harsh language. Most of the dealers I knew had to be thrown behind bars, and gun stores that distribute to the public have been banned longer than I’ve been alive. However, there is one individual who may have the connections I need when it comes to who calls, that is if I can trust him. My eyes drift towards my desk, Audacity’s business card rests atop the clutter.
What a strange feeling this man invokes in my mind. Audacity truly is different from almost anyone I’ve ever met. He checks all the boxes of people that I tend to avoid, and yet, I feel a strange appreciation for him. As if our souls have similar wallpaper.
______________________________________________________________________________
“Audacity?” I whisper.
“Misha?” He whispers back, “Why are you whispering?”
“Very good question,” I lean back on my bed as we speak through a hollow call. “Apologies.”
“Don’t apologize for the whispering, apologize for calling me so early. I just woke up.” It’s 1:16 PM.
“I can call back later.”
“No, go ahead.” I worked together to get an idea of what kind of lie I could string together to get some information about local dealers in the Dingo Street area. That there was going to be a popping off with some of the local gangs and if we didn’t cut out some of the sources it would be an all-out war.
“I need a gun,” the truth slipped away from my lips.
“A gun? Don’t all you cops pack heat 24/7?”
“No, and I recently was made aware of the shortcomings of that policy,” he pauses, reflecting on my injuries no doubt.
“I’ll help you. Where do you want to meet?” Audacity asks, some vitality returning to his weary voice.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Why?” I can hear shifting on the other side of the microphone as if he is getting up and preparing to head my way.
“I trust that you have a good reason and that you’re probably going to need it.” He clears his throat, “Cops like you seem to always get in over their heads for all the right reasons.”
“I promise. I won’t let you regret it.”
“Give me the deets, and I’ll meet you.”
I proceeded to provide the aforementioned deets to a park near my apartment.
______________________________________________________________________________
Garfield Park is a location whose very essence has been corroded by the nature of modern society. What was once the diamond of Reno, now is infested with sewage and mutants. Mutants originally spliced together in a lab to patrol the sewers to prevent blockage, now they hide in the shadows of the trees and bushes and attack the homeless and unsuspecting as night falls. Seventy-three years ago a different type of mutant was deployed on the surface of Titan, with similar catastrophic results. Why did the Reno city government believe that they would succeed where the Board of the 145 had failed?
So I prefer to remain on the park's outskirts, sitting with my baby on the sidewalk. A few moments pass before that same red four-door pulls up a few car lengths along the road ahead of me. Audacity steps out of the car and swiftly closes and locks the door behind him. He’s wearing the same thing as yesterday, that long red shirt and black pants, though this time his hair is tied up into a loose ponytail. Our eyes meet and he greets me with a grin.
“How are we?” A rowdiness in his voice permeates. I stand and adjust the gauze covering my eye.
“Hanging in there,” he motions for me to follow him to his car, and I follow. We plop down in the surprisingly clean vehicle, its interior is almost as if it was picked off the dealership's lot. A pair of miniature boxing gloves hang from the car's rearview mirror.
“Glove box,” Audacity lights a cloth-wrapped cigarette as the driver-side window rolls down. I reach and pop open the compartment and can see a small item wrapped in an old T-shirt. “It’s old school, only has six shots but can’t be hacked or traced.” I gently pull back the wrapping and see a silver revolver with a taped black grip.
“Where did you get it?”
“Had it for a long time.”
“Thank you,” I look him in the eye. “I won’t-”
“Let me regret it?” I stop and nod. He chuckles in between a drag, “Just be careful… and most importantly, take me with you.”
“Huh?”
“I read about your situation in the news today. You're not a cop for the next few months or so. I figure you’re in dire need of someone to watch your back.” Audacity points his cigarette at the gun, “This alone won’t keep you safe, hell, I can’t keep you safe, but I can do my damndest to watch your back.”
“...Why?”
“Because if you’re dealing with this business that blew out my eye, I have a feeling this rabbit hole is going to be fucking deep. The way that Castellan talked to me suggested dangers beyond faulty cybernetics.”
“I do not doubt that you’re correct.”
“This is personal for me, and I want to help,” Audacity stared at me with his intermixed eyes. One a blistering red, the other shrouded in that milky haze.
“You can just leave this behind and be with your daughter.”
“Nah,” He shrugged his shoulders. “This is for her too.” I place the gun in my right jacket pocket.
“Alright.”
“Good. Where to start?” Audacity claps his hands and smiles.
“The Badlands.”
“Alright. I don’t think you want me hanging onto your back as we blast down I-97 on your motorbike.” I chuckle as Audacity’s car turns on, and intense air conditioning blasts my face. “Then again, there are worse ways to get from point A to point B.”
“Such as?”
“Making that trip without you here to talk to,” I turned away and looked out the window.
“Perhaps. Give it a shot first and then see how you feel,” We pull off into the road and veer towards the arid planes.
______________________________________________________________________________
One might think that there is an old woman currently hacking Audacity’s neural port with the way that he drives. Making slow turns, driving consistently under the speed limit, and listening to Willie West. By god spare me he is listening to retro country and it’s making my ears bleed. I separate myself from my ears as I think more about the case. What kind of glitch could cause such vivid images to take place, unless it was orchestrated? There is little public knowledge about Orbinc and its stockholders/board members/ and even founders. Perhaps this is some sort of neo-Christian movement to get the last “a-ha” over dying Atheists?
I digress.
I recount all the information I’ve gathered so far about the case to Audacity, which is ultimately very little. The concept of sharing details of the encounter in the morgue intimidates me. Everyone I’ve talked to has already known what happened, even speaking of that time causes an unbearable weight on my shoulders. It’s going to be a difficult day when I muster up the courage to call my parents again.
“I went to check out the husband's corpse, to compare the wounds,” I tap my leg and take in the city lights whizzing (slowly) past. “A man was hiding in the corpse drawer, talking to someone over holo. He was going to get rid of the body, or do something to it… I don’t know. He had two cloudy white eyes, just like the one of yours.” Audacity looked at himself in the rearview mirror, then back to the road.
“I got in his way and he did this,” I motion to my bandaged eye.
“He went too far,” Audacity replied.
“What?” I ask. Yeah, no shit he went too far. He went too far when he broke into a police station to destroy evidence.
“Shit. No, that sounded way worse than what I meant” Audacity trips over his words. “If his job was to destroy the evidence, he didn’t need to kill you. He could have just knocked you out or something.”
“He shouldn’t have been put in that position in the first place,” I reply bitterly, his words stinking. A phantom pain overcomes me, I slide my fingers under the bandage and massage the side of my head.
“It’s just a job and he took it too far,” I look at him, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry he did that to you, and I’m beyond grateful that you’re alive to tell the story.”
“But.”
“But I’ve done worse than stealing a body.” There is a silence that comes between us for a moment. My mind wanders to what he could have done, how close we could have been to meeting, under far less ideal circumstances.
“I see.”
“Surviving is what we do best, no matter the cost. But… killing you wasn’t on his bill.” His fingers wrap tightly around the steering wheel. “That’s all I’m trying to say.”
“I understand,” the streets of Reno are unforgiving, I suppose I possess a curtain privilege in that regard. For that, I’m ignorant. It’s brave of him to be so affronted about this opinion, I respect the lack of subtlety.
“You don’t have to. There are just some things I can’t stand not saying.” Even though we talked about Lucy, he never explained what happened to her mother. He has the eye of a widower. The lengths he may have taken to keep his family safe, only to end up playing his bass guitar surrounded by others, but ultimately alone. Now with only time to care for, and never truly love. “But know this, if we cross paths with that fucking guy. He’s a dead man. I promise you that.”
Strange, in all this time I’ve had to revel in this pain, I’ve not thought once for a second about revenge. Does he deserve to die? I would have killed him in the moment, it was him or me. Or should there be a balancing act like before with Galea? Should I try to invoke suffering, to ease my own? I’m not so sure. I hate this imbalance, shifting to and fro in my mind.
I need to get my shit together.
______________________________________________________________________________
The further out of the city we drive, the dust coats our windshield and sets like a fog in the air. The city line is completely lined with fuel and power stations. Thousands of credits are earned every minute. The foolish fill up their vehicles to get into Reno, and the dejected spend their last penny in the hopes that somewhere, anywhere, will save what little life they have left.
Man-made dust storms make it difficult for even the most experienced pilot to pierce through the brown veil of grain. The line of the city is clear as day, remnants of a metropolis begin to fade, and wide barren plains of dirt and trash. As we ride along the faded dirt roads an abandoned factory waves as we pass. The temperature gauge reads 148 degrees Fahrenheit, a cool day in the Nevada Badlands. We have a long drive ahead of us and I just may lose my mind if I have to endure any more Willy West.
“Please explain this music situation to me,” I say, over the sound of the heavy winds and mediocre tunes. Audacity cracks a knowing smile.
“Oh brother,” He laughs and turns the music down slightly. “Don’t tell me you have bad taste in music.”
“Please don’t make me say it.”
“Classic artist, fifteen Grammys.”
“Good god, woe to our ancestors.” His laugh is infectious as he returns the music to its original volume.
“I’ll tell you the same thing I tell everyone else, if I’m behind the wheel, I’m choosing the music. It’s just that simple.”
“This may be the deciding factor in the acquisition of artificial eardrums.”
______________________________________________________________________________
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Four hours passed. The spires of Vegas can be seen far in the distance.
“The facility may be underground,” I deduct, examining what little information I was able to gather via satellite images. “But if they are transporting products in and out of local cities like Reno, then they must have a place for trucks to enter, ground elevators and such.”
“And even if the entrance is hidden, tire tracks should reveal the way,” Audacity chimed in. “So what’s the plan, are you just going to stick your head out the window like a puppy dog?”
“Not terribly far from the truth,” I activate the thermal optics in my remaining eye. “I’m hoping that this does the trick for us.
“Ooh, la la. Can that see tracks as well?”
“Only if they’re recent.” The residual heat left behind by the rubber makes it apparent where cars have been. Audacity swerves off the dirt road onto the uneven ground of the surrounding plains. I slide across the seat, my side brushing the center console and my hand grips the steering wheel.
My eyes darted towards Audacity’s, “We’ll never find anything if we stick to the main road.” I lightly punch his shoulder and peer through the side window. “You just focus on your laser vision, I’ll look for any fiscal tracks.”
______________________________________________________________________________
“Lucy, I’ll be home tonight,” Audacity spoke over holo to his daughter. “You can wait for me or order in. No going out.” A small projection of her face appeared on the dash of our car.
“Maybe I could call up Hauer’s and get a” She replied before getting swiftly cut off.
“Don’t even think about it, that’s OUR spot. I don’t want you burning out on it without me.” Audacity blurts out. Lucy giggles and covers her face.
“Fine-fine,” Lucy looks at me in the passenger seat. “Miss Misha, have you ever had Batty’s?”
“No,” I shuffle in my seat.
“When you and Dad get back in town you should come to have some with us!” Lucy shouts, causing the speakers of Audacity’s car to crinkle.
“Jeez, girl relax,” Audacity sticks his finger into his left ear. “If I’m reading the car here I bet Miss Misha would probably just want to go home?” He cocks his head over to me. His goodhearted words are betrayed by expecting eyes.
“I think that would be nice.”
“Really?” Audacity asked.
“‘Nice?’” Lucy quipped.
“Why not?”
“Great!” Audacity, “I’ll give you a ring when we're on the way home Lucy.
“Okay, keep your eyes on the road,” Lucy continued. In the passing mirror, I could see a small brown lump sprouting from amidst the dirt and sand. I pointed to it, my index finger pressing against the glass and turned to Audacity. He squinted his eyes.
“Bye sweetie, Misha wants to go play with dead animals,” He ended the transmission. I whipped my head back towards the object out in the field. Audacity turned the car, it was a dead animal.
“Could you please stop the car?” I ask.
“To check out this dead animal?” He meets me with confusion. It doesn’t just look like it died of thirst. Amidst the blowing winds, I could see blackened blood and flayed fur.
“Yes.”
He stopped the car. As quickly as I could I stepped out of the car, throwing open the door and then closing it to prevent a wave of dust covering the interior. The animal was only a few feet away, it was in three pieces. Closest to me were the legs and tail of a canine, the bones looked completely crushed and they had been stretched from underneath the skin. The fur had become thin over the enlarged area of coverage. Next was the creature's torso and front legs. The fur had been completely peeled back and flayed, and the rib cage was intact and hopelessly contained the corpse's blackened internal organs. Though, unlike the ribs, the front legs were just as shattered and stretched as the back ones. Lastly, there was the skull. A coyote's head was pinned into the ground with a blade, its tongue lackadaisical laid out through its surprisingly white teeth. Before the blade was inserted through the forehead, it was used to carve out the beast's eyes as they were nowhere to be found. I place my hands around the handle of the knife and my shoe gently on the dead dog's head and pull.
“I’m sorry,” I say down to the decapitated head. “You guys aren’t the friendliest dogs, but you don’t deserve this…” I place the knife in my left jacket pocket and rub my hand along the head of the dead creature. I’m not sure if coyotes enjoy petting, but I figured I’d attempt kindness before it is swept away by the sands for eternity. I stand and turn, Audacity beckons me back to the car. When I rejoin him there is a thick layer of dust that completely covers my entire body, that layer extends into my mouth as breathing refuses to come easy.
“Cough,” he reaches down into his glove box and pulls out a small canister. “Then gargle and spit with this water back in.” I comply.
“Thank you.”
“Now go on,” he motions to my head.
“Go on?” I cock my head at him.
“Shake the dust out of your hair,” Audacity smiles. “It’s the best part of a dust storm.”
“But then it would get all over the place? All over your car?”
“Of course, but then I go ‘ahh Misha,’ and we both laugh.”
“I’m not sure I get it,” I crack a smile.
“Forget it,” Audacity laughs and shakes the top of my head sending dust all over the dashboard. “Shit,” the dust got in his eyes. I can’t help but start to crack up. My overwhelming laughter causes the man to quickly open his irritated eyes in disbelief, and he immediately starts laughing along with me.
We sat there for a while, laughing and battling the dust.
______________________________________________________________________________
The knife was more like an industrial box cutter, its blade was a rusting silver with a black handle. There was a marking on the butt, a scratched white symbol. It was of what looked like a stick figure of some sort, the chest was joined by crossing lines.
“I’ll send you money for the gasoline,” I say to Audacity, breaking the silence between us as he quietly drives off-road
“Don’t worry about it. Besides, I welcomed a peaceful drive through the country.” Now that I realize it, during our search, we didn’t exchange much dialogue, it was a peaceful experience. “I’m going to try to go back the way we came, GPS keeps track of our path.” As each second went by, the dirt and dust followed us. I think of those who drove and walked on that same ground before us. The desert is a graveyard of memories and a blank canvas for new ones. I clutch the knife to my side.
“Thank you… for being here,” I say. Audacity smiles and nods.
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else, you just let me know if you turn anything up with that knife.”
Before we rejoin the loosely paved road I can pick up writing in the dirt, tire markings of a motorcycle of some sort, spanning about twenty feet across in total.
1. JOLLIES
This name was written out in large capital letters. I pondered it for a moment before informing Audacity. As I went to speak, he cut me off. “I can see it without your fancy vision.”
“Didn’t we pass a diner of the same name an hour or so back from here?”
“That we did. I’m surprised you remembered, you looked dead asleep at that point.” I roll my eyes. Someone is ready to break bread over what has been going on at least.
“Sadly, due to the constant violation of my ears, sleep eluded me.” Audacity gasps and pulls the car to a stop.
“Listen, whatever happens going forward, I want you to know that this is the last time you will be able to take that back.”
“Give my apologies to Wally West and the gang.”
“So be it,” Without a question in the world, he turned our car back down the road to Mr. Jollie's Canadian Eatery. As we approach this mysterious encounter, I familiarize myself with my new gun and pray I don’t have to use it.
______________________________________________________________________________
Mr. Jollies was a dumpy-looking place, vast in size for a place like this, but the neon sign was only half ablaze. The exterior was completely coated in a layer of dust, and half of the cars and sky cars surrounding the place were ruined. Honestly, I’m surprised no one has picked them up for scrap. Perhaps because no one is stupid enough to spend an unnecessary second at a place like this.
“What food should we expect to find at a Canadian eatery?” Audacity asks as he pulls us alongside the building.
“You’re thinking about the food?” I ask.
“Maybe a chili? Canadians seem like they would make a good chili.”
“I’m more concerned about the other patrons.”
“Why? You don’t like other people watching you eat?” He unlocks all the car doors and reaches for the handle.
“Don’t kid around.” I quickly press the lock button before he can exit, “We have no idea what to expect in there.”
“I’ll be keeping an eye out, don’t worry, I have your back.” I unlock the doors and we step out into the hurling wind. I do my best to cover my open eye socket and mouth. We pushed ourselves through the metal door and stood in a dirty vestibule. Both of our heads of black hair were now a light brown. I shook my head like a dog coming in from the rain, dust went flying off and coated the wall, along Audacity's chest.
“Oh shoot,” I pat his shirt, brushing off the newly added dust. I turn and gaze through the windows of the vestibule. The interior of the diner was quite impressive, given its troublesome location. There was a long counter lined with red cushion stools, and a friendly-looking tan woman waved to us from a large service hatch. A few disgruntled hooded men were at the counter, hunching over plates of synthetic egg and coffee. Then there was the man we were looking for. He sat alone in the middle of the dining area, nursing a glass of red wine straight from a bottle at the center of the table. We pushed the door open and stepped through, locking eyes with the curious man.
“Welcome to Mr. Jollies! I’ll be right with you,” a gravely woman’s voice shouts from the kitchen.
“Oh take your time your time Nancy. They are for me,” the mysterious man spoke, still focusing on the pouring alcohol. His voice was smooth, each word escaped his mouth with only a twitch of his lips, like a ventriloquist without his dummy.
“I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to a cool glass of water, ma'am,” I say to the window. When I turn my gaze back to him, he flashes a devious smile with a look in his eyes that I’ll never forget. This man will sentence Earth and all the colonies in the system to hell if it means getting what he wants. His face was pale and narrow, with parted black raven hair, pure black pupil-less eyes, and a thin body. Clad in a black suit, white dress shirt, black waistcoat, and a flaming red tie. He waves his bony hand to two seats at his table.
“Please, take a seat Detective Glass, Mr. Bucchannon.” I approach the table, studying him cautiously. His clothing is too tight to hide any firearms, even his ankles are pressed snuggly against his pant leg. I get down on one knee for a moment and look to see if there is anything glued or taped to the bottom of the table. “One thing I love about you already, Detective Glass, is your lack of subtlety.” Nothing there, I grunt as I push myself to my feet, “And your grace is unmatched.” We sat.
“Can’t be too careful,” I pointed at the man. “A lot of dangerous characters these days.”
“Do I look dangerous?”
“Deadly,” I responded without a moment's hesitation.
“I wish I had that detective's mindset to read people. I focus too much on one’s surface for information.”
“Who are you?” Audacity buts in.
“Straight to the point, I was quite enjoying a dance of words with your partner here.” The man replies. “I refuse names, I find them to be so dull. How about a callsign? What is a name but a malformed breath in which the individual in question turns their head?”
“How about you say something, instead of using your ‘malformed breath’ to jerk us around,” Audacity says, growing in frustration.
“The King of Fortune.” A callsign indeed, “but my position is best described as an arbiter of Orbinc affairs.”
“So tell me, Arbiter, what is this all about?” I ask.
“Responsibility,” The King replies.
“Elaborate.”
“It is my responsibility to ensure that all interests of Orbinc are protected.”
“Does that include sending a merc into the RPD to destroy evidence,” Audacity interjects. The Arbiter swirls the red liquid in his glass before taking a long drawn-out sip.
“To be truthful, I had originally planned to intercept the corpse on the way to the recycling plant.” Unclaimed corpses from police investigations are often sent to city-run recycling plants, which repurpose the dead into fertilizer to provide nutrients to the failing ecosystem. “I haven’t the slightest clue who attacked you in that basement.”
“If your hands are clean so far, why did you ask us to come here?” I ask, The man smiles.
“I’m here to recommend that you ought to let this matter fall into the private sector. Our operatives are hard at work to get to the root of what is happening with the deceased and their implants.”
“Did you think for one moment that I’d agree to just let things slide?” I shoot back at his offer.
“Of course not. Convincing is in order,” The man reaches down for a small silver case, similar to that of a cigarette book. He gently places it on the table and slides it over to just right in front of me. “Please, open it.”
“Very well,” I crack open the side, revealing a small faded ID badge. A Rosenoff Industries access card for one Elizabeth Morgan. The picture and words almost completely faded away. The woman in the picture was beautiful, with thick brown dreadlocks, round features, and even with the color slipping away, piercing green eyes. “Who is she?”
“My adoptive mother, take a good long look at her before handing the card back.”
“What do the Rosenoffs have to do with this?” I ask.
“They represent what I stand to challenge,” the man reaches over and snatches the metal container from my hands. “I spent my whole life in space, my birth parents were lithium haulers, that was until pirates raided our ship and murdered them both. I was six at the time. I was rescued by Elizabeth, and she immediately took me in as one of her own. I idolized the woman, even though my parents had no choice, she was the only one who never abandoned me. One day, she received an offer to work security at a mining shaft on Earth. Mom accepted. She always had this dream of living on the planetside where all of her children and grandchildren could come and visit. Almost like our family pilgrimage to see grandma, just once in their lives. However, that dream was never fulfilled. As you know, one does not simply go from living in space for years to walking on Earth without issue.”
“The change in gravity would kill her,” I say.
“Exactly. However, the Rosenoffs had an experimental drug that would stabilize the body as it adjusted to the new gravity. They had no idea of the side effects, but knew they needed workers, and fast. You see, the Rosenoffs just relocated from Callisto after a bioterrorism incident and needed her to start ASAP. She was willing to do anything to get one step closer to her little Earth-bound home.”
“Did the drug work?” Audacity asks.
“Wonders. She was able to complete all her duties at peak capacity. Though behind the scenes the drug was reducing her bones to chalk one day at a time. It wasn’t until two years after she started taking the drug that the doctors understood the side effects, and by then it was too late. It wasn’t just her, hundreds of other workers took this drug.” There isn’t pain on the Arbiter's face, he is either fantastic at poker or has found peace.
“Where were you during all this?” I ask.
“Myself and the other Morgan children were undergoing gravitational therapy on the Rosenoff Astrology Space Station. It took years to become completely adjusted to the new atmosphere, and by the time our feet were ready to stay on solid ground… Mother was near death.” Their silence overtakes the table. I need to call my parents to let them know I’m okay.
“But the Rosenoffs are still on Earth, Why wasn’t there an even bigger controversy than what happened on Callisto?”
“Blood can be mistaken for wine. The Rosenoffs were celebrated for doing everything they could to ‘bring the spacers back home.’” The Arbiter smirks.
Despite everything, there seems to be no pain in his eyes, his hands remain steady as he raises them to take another sip from the wine glass. “What does any of this have to do with us? The occurrences?” Audacity asks.
“Of course,” the Arbiter clears his throat. “There will be no more Elizabeth Morgans. I will not allow the folly and controversy of a white-collar narcissist to put the lives of any other worker in danger. Companies like Rosenoff Industries do not care for their employees. Companies relocate and rebrand due to a single scandal, and because of this, hundreds if not thousands lose their jobs, which may as well be their lives, their family’s lives.”
Excuses.
Good ones.
But excuses, nonetheless.
“So you’re here to justify your actions?” I replied.
“To justify my future actions if you continue down this path,” He replies coldly. His face sours causing him to spit a sip of wine back into the glass. He examines the inside of the cup, “I encourage you to stand aside.”
“You’re going to threaten a police officer and think-” Audacity is cut off by the Arbiter quickly spilling the contents of his wine glass onto the floor, coating the bottom of my shoes in sticky red liquid.
“There is no police officer in this diner, only two criminals,” He stares at my clothing in detail.
“What did you call us?” Audacity leans forward on the table and points his index finger at the man's chest.
“Possession of a firearm is illegal in this territory,” the man smiles. “Police or civilians, plasma or iron. Illegal.”
The woman in the back comes around the counter with two cups of water, She steps over the flowing wine and lays the tray on the table. “I brought you one or two mister, It sure is hot out there today.” Audacity shuffles back into the pit of his seat.
“Thanks,” he replies. She gives him a warm smile before unloading the glasses in front of us, puts the tray under her arm, and begins to walk away. We three stare at each other in silence as the woman's footsteps trail back to the kitchen.
“Oh! Straws!” The woman shouts from behind the counter. She comes trotting back through the center of the diner, before placing two straws on the table in front of us. “And don’t worry about the spill, I’ll get on that in just a moment.”
“Thank you, dearest,” The Arbiter replies, laying down a hefty stack of credit chips on the table. Easily twelve hundred North American Units. An unbelievably large tip, “Just consider what I said going forward.” Audacity pushes himself to his feet and turns towards the door in an instant.
“Well this was fucking pointless,” he utters. Almost as if being in proximity of this man boils his blood, he stumbles towards the door.
“Give me one reason why I should trust you,” I ask earnestly, staring at his black, lifeless, eyes. “One reason why I should just let this go.” No answer could ever satisfy me, but I have to try.
His eyes lock with mine. It’s one of the most human things you can do, to try to understand one's motivation, to see the jaded red lines of pain that stain a pure white sclera. Eyes reveal a lot, one cannot see through another. One cannot count the escaped tears. Life is so much more than sight.
Before he can respond I place the knife I had found in the desert in front of him. He frowns.
“Are you threatening me, detective?”
“No, but I was wondering if you had seen it before?” I asked. The arbiter gently reached down and picked up the knife and marveled at its seeming insignificance before I pointed at the marking on the butt.
“A fascinating tool,” A small twitch danced across his lip. “Most people tend to prefer plasma-based blades.”
“Does that symbol mean anything to you?” The man moved it closer to his face, his eyes bounced around in millimeter intervals as his optic scans ran.
“I think I’ll be hanging onto this if you don’t mind Detective Glass.” The man picks up a napkin off the table and goes to lackadaisically clean the filthy blade. I reach into my jacket pocket for the pistol Audacity had gifted to me. I place it on my knee and cock the hammer.
sx“I think you’re going to put it right back down where I left it,” I asserted. A genuine look of shock came over his face. The hooded men from the counter quickly turned and went to stand, The Arbiter swiftly raised his hand to them which had them freeze in place. I could hear Audacity slide back to my side, his hand was buried in his jacket pocket as well, clutching his iron as well.
“Alright, alright,” my adversary squawked. He set the knife back down on the table. “Take it.” I snatched it up and made way for the door, not turning my back, not blinking. “And cut your own throat, collapse to the ground, so I can kick you while you’re down.” His voice turned, raspy, possessed.
“You stupid bitch,” Audacity shouted, pulling his revolver from his shirt pocket and swinging it forward towards our enemy. “Are you trying to get fucking shot?” I place my hand on Audacity’s shoulder. He did not react to my touch, his face was covered in sweat, his hand shook, and there was fear in his eyes.
“Let’s go,” I whisper to my companion. No reaction. “Audacity.” He whipped his head to me quickly, then back to the others, and nodded. We backed towards the door and burst out into the whirlwind of sand and who knows what else.