Reno, Nevada, North American Territories, 2452
I wonder at times if there will ever be an end to the noise. Sky Cars whirl past, gunshots ring from the alleyways, and families fall apart just a few doors down. It simply goes on and on. I had never considered audio implants until an advertisement for artificial eardrums fell onto my desk. Enhanced hearing was never on my radar, but the ability to simply turn off the noise is something I could get behind. However in the end, even that silence is artificial, so it would give me no peace. The unrelenting volume of this city seeps into my dreams.
______________________________________________________________________________
36 hours in bed. I’m ready for work tomorrow.
______________________________________________________________________________
I shower. Three days of sweat and muck clog the drain. Rashes and scabs are beginning to form from under that dull coating of grime. I must put this neglect and resentment towards my existence to rest.
I am a woman, at least I see one staring back at me in the mirror. Her hair is dry, thin, and cut short. Black strands fall short at the middle of the neck. Her were a bright inhuman blue. She did not look strong, the opposite in fact, her arms were as thin as twigs, and her ribcage was prominently visible behind her pale skin. A night badge through and through. If it weren’t for a loyal partner, and many layers of clothing, she would have been kicked off of the force a long time ago.
My apartment is nothing, I can’t help but pay it no mind.
7:38 PM
I’m late.
I threw on a pair of baggy black slacks, a white dress shirt, a thick blue wool sweater, and a leather coat that stretched down to my upper thigh. I clipped a badge to my belt buckle and tried to conceal it behind the thick leather of my coat. I made my way to the door and slid in my access card, which instantly slid open. The stench of the halls hit me like a truck. It was a mix of soaking wet garbage, BO, cat fur, and a hint of vanilla.
The hallways were cluttered, and shock complexes like this one didn’t kick the homeless out onto the street, they didn't have that kind of staff. So it’s no surprise that every bum and their mother make my evening walk to my bike all the more enjoyable. Some turn their head as I walk by, their glances don’t usually evoke much within me, just keep your head down and keep walking. However, even my tin heart can’t help but feel inclined to help when it’s a child, or a mother and baby. I move carefully down the dark hall, watching my step as I go. Once I made it to the elevator, one of my neighbors slipped in, a chatty one.
“Misha,” the man said. He had gentle eyes and a thick mustache, he was a big blue-collar gentleman, with a neon jacket resting over his shoulders. The top of his head was coated in metal plating, the skull cap was now a permanent hard hat. The elevator door closed and began to crawl downwards. “Always happy to see another night shifter.” He smiled, “We keep the city churning so it’s nice a pretty come morning.”
“Yes.”
“Have you been well?”
“I believe so,” He chuckled.
“Oh come on. You always give me a strange story to tell to my wife when I get home. I’m getting tired of saying, ‘Dina, I talked to that strange woman in 624A again, she said she ‘believed she was well,’ it’s beginning to get a bit tiresome.”
“Is that right?”
“You do it on purpose. Don’t you.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” I responded with a slight smirk.
“Have it your way Miss Glass,” He groaned. “Have a good one.”
The streets weren’t much better than the hallways. With winter coming to an end, the poor and sick flood out into the neon-lit streets. They don’t dare to seek refuge in the alleyways. I and the other members of the force commonly refer to them as the “rivers of misfortune.” You sail up one if you are looking for trouble. Doesn't matter who you are either, this past week the deputy mayor fell into one of their currents only blocks away from the capitol building. He was a pretty serious guy, but now he’s “loosened up” a bit.
I don’t own many nice things, but my bike, my beautiful bike. It was a Kawazaki 2166, express model. A smooth matte body with red trim. The wheels are duro rubber, three times the cost of a normal tire but they drive nicely and are supposed to never blow. I could call it my first love. The first and only thing that was truly mine, and mine alone. I bought it new and everything. When it starts, there is a moment of delay before it rages on, loudly, making my presence known through the many streets I ride down.
The ads whirl by quickly as I pass:
“Visit Goodmond, the safest place on Europa! Leave the smog behind!”
“Kariah Corn Chips,” a man holding a piece of synthetic dried corn with a euphoric look on his face.
“The war is over,” flashes of images of the second MaroTerra conflict, “We will terraform a new future, TOGETHER!” The ad ends with lush vistas of new Mars.
“Natural food is not worth bleeding over! Join up with Ohya! Feed the future!” Dissuading the common man from leaving the city. Promoting sickening lab-grown food. As if the earth wasn’t hellish enough. Now our food may be any number of repurposed garbage, packed into a chicken tender.
I try not to focus on them as I drive, but their lights are booming bright colorful beams in contrast to the blackness of the city. It can’t help but draw the eye like a siren’s song. The overwhelming stampede of flushed-faced people never leaves the streets for a moment of peace. I do not know how a non-altruistic dream still thrives in this city, the thought that one could compete with the corps, embedded police force, and even the criminal underground.
I arrive at the police station. The one-story building that one could hardly call imposing. I pull off to the curb and activate the anti-theft protocol on my Kakashi before removing my helmet. Strands of my hair blow wildly in the extreme gusts of wind. When I park, the advertisements long past resurface in my optics, I blink to dismiss their messages, a benefit of a cheap high optics plan.
“I could hear you coming a mile away,” a gruff man’s voice bellowed over the rain and wind. “You ought to take her in for a tune-up.”
Glenn.
He exited the main doorway of the police station. He stood tall, a bold 7’6, shoulders broad and neck thick, a true behemoth. His face was square and his eyes appeared constantly squinting, the only way you could make out his pupils was due to their faint blue glow.
“Welcome back to the land of the living.”
“Glenn, you look well”
“Each day is better than the last,” the rain picked up. I’m soaked down to my bones.
“Come, let's get inside,” I said as we shuffled into the dimly lit lobby of the police station. “What happened to that raincoat I got you?”
______________________________________________________________________________
My desk was neat and organized, though, beneath the surface, my drawers were a cluttered mess. The only piece of personal information on my desk is a picture of my parents. Father and mother standing on a Martian beach.
Across my cubicle was Glenn's desk latent with pictures of his immediate family and antique bobbleheads. My favorite picture is a photoshopped image of him and his son holding up a comically large catfish. Their smiles were the only thing real in the photograph. What a smile it was, a father and a child, there is only one other bond in the world that could ever be so strong.
I envy this bond, more than my young self could have ever anticipated. At the age of 26 years old, I feel as though my time of maternity has slipped from my grasp. I don’t believe that there is a man or woman on earth who could go home smiling with me.
“H-how's your family Glenn,” he looked up from his computer, surprised.
“Well,” Glenn replied. “Fantastic even. Joyus if you dare. Extraordinary some might say.”
“Forget I asked,” I roll my eyes.
“No, no wait! I’m just messing with you. Hudson’s first Gearball tournament is next week, and Shirly’s first day of kindergarten is in…” glances down at his wrist panel, “9 hours.”
“And Deangela?”
“This is unlike you, Misha. Why do you ask?”
“Hmm, simply curious,” I say. I may have crossed a line in our work relationship, “Sorry.”
“Sorry? Don’t be sorry Misha! For as smart as everyone knows you to be, you really can be pretty stupid.” A smile grows on his face, almost as bright as the one in the fish picture. So bright… so… understanding, I can’t help a bit flushed in the cheeks. “We’re partners, you could ask me what color boxers I have on and I’d tell you, no question.”
“Very well, thank you for that important clarification,” I say between his laughter at his joke.
“The next free days off we have, you’re coming to dinner.”
“We shall see.”
“No, nope, no, nu uh. You will hear me say right now. Dinner, family, good food, and knowing you, a great deal of awkwardness.” Glenn stood and stuck his hand out towards me, “You will experience this no matter what.” I stand and shake his hand, his firm grip is unintentionally intimidating.
“I look forward to it.”
We both looked back to our view screens. I blink, flipping my tabs thoroughly. After looking over a few incident reports from the past few days it was time to check my rapid transmit
VERITAS, GLENN-3 hours ago- Pre-work dinner/breakfast/lunch.
UNKNOWN-3 hours ago- LOCAL MILFS DWELLING IN YOUR AREA!
JESUS CHRIST-4 hours ago- Can you be saved, Misha Glass
COLEEN, DIANNA-9 hours ago- Benefits documents.
MOM-10 hours ago- Are you awake? We’ve been calling.
WEBSTER, REINA-12 hours ago- On-call hours, citation.
My optics ignited, and DISPATCH flashed across my gaze,
“Dispatch, 1508,” they called upon my unit number.
“!508”
“We have nine, a total of nine 187’s at 74th and Androfski.” Nine homicides, “Report to the Seargent on the scene, Darrens Crypto Firm,” for more information.”
“Copy, 1508 and 1503 en route.”
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A clean place in the dirtiest part of town, Darren” 's Crypto Firm. These crypto firms popped up all over Reno within the past twenty years. People began to shy away from the trade when everything was digital, though introducing a human aspect of the work in the form of shops like this one, increased the demand unexpectedly. Though these businesses don’t do anything outside of the day besides meetings for crypto loans, workplace scuffles are common. That's what happens when you have too much time on your hands, you’ll always find some trouble. Upon arrival, the business was built into a strip mall, not taking much space up. It was a simple corner store with what appeared to be one singular office, with only a side closet and a bathroom. The company must do only one meeting at a time, considering at least 10 agents are working here, that must have been a hotly contested space. The rest of the business boroughs were underground, where the workers sat and waited for more customers to arrive. That must be where the murder happened, on the surface, everything looks business as usual.
The Seargent on scene approached Glenn and I, clad in bright blue armor that covered him from head to toe he spoke, “Evening officers.” His voice was channeled through a speaker on the outside of his helmet, “Just three minutes before shift change this asshole has to up and go psycho.”
“That’s a tough deal,” you’d think that mass murder would put long hours in perspective. You’d think incorrectly. “So talk to us about the murders.”
“Normal girl, always showed up to work on time, friendly with others, even worked at the soup kitchen on Sundays. Joy Asperas is her name. But today she shows up with a pistol and before the other workers have a chance to get a fucking word in, BAM, starts blasting.”
“How do you know all this,” I inquire.
“A couple of neighboring stores told us a bit about her character,” he sighs and points over his shoulder to an ambulance taking off. “The sole survivor gave us a few words about the incident, their being taken to St. Judas Memorial Hospital.”
“Suspect deceased?” Glenn chimed in.
“Yeah, my men found her, she deep-throated a shotgun.” Classy word choice, Glenn looked just as unimpressed.
“Thank you, any other information we should know?”
“Yeah, one last thing, she kept saying ‘this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, Lexios,’ as he was bleeding out.” The officer began to back away from us, “Might be a boyfriend or something.” The sergeant returned to crowd control as passersby and reporters stood on their toes trying to catch a glimpse at the store.
“We could tap into his contacts once we reach the body, see if we can find a Lexios on there,” Glenn spoke up.
“Sounds like a plan, Let's head inside.”
“Hey,” he puts his hand on my shoulder, stopping me from moving forward. “Best hold your breath.”
“If I couldn’t stand the smell of dead bodies, I would’ve quit this job a long time ago.”
“No not that. Best not to breathe the air of moneylenders.” I roll my eyes and step into the shop.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The basement was illuminated by police drones and dim industrial-grade light fixtures that desperately needed to be cleaned. There were a total of 11 desks all lined along the large square room. There wasn’t even a bathroom or a kitchenette, truly a miserable place. Corpses were strewn about the room, some sat with horrified expressions slumped over the desk, and others looked as though they were running towards the center of the room before a hold was blown through their skull or chest. At the center was a grotesque woman, her head had been obliterated by a shotgun blast, leaving behind only the bottom part of her jaw, and the back part of her tongue. The tragedy of human life is not what makes her “grotesque,” but the fact that she's got a death grip on the shotgun she used to murder all of these people, then herself. Back when these high-power scatterguns used to require a pump to fire again, these people may have stood a chance, though now, it must have been like shooting bottles on a fence.
In truth she seemed very average, dressed in normal business attire, average female height, fair in weight, and Caucasian. Looking closer at her dossier, Clara Terratin, had a normal childhood, both fathers were present, and one even was able to stay at home with her growing up, a rarity nowadays. She attended a decent university just outside of Vegas and graduated with a degree in digital trading. She accepted this job two years ago and owns a condo on the right side of town.
“At least it’s not a room of stinkers,” Glenn remarked. The corpses were still fresh, and have yet to begin the decay process.
“Yet.” I studied the corpse further, she had no injection marks on the neck or arms, and looking through the gore, there seemed to be no interlaced cyber brain matter. “Glenn, could you take some pictures please?”
“Way ahead of you boss,” he points to his glowing blue eyes. “I started recording when we arrived.” I began to use my implants on the other employees, each of them had menial implants of no interest.
“Something doesn’t make sense to me.” I put on some latex gloves I keep in my jacket pocket and begin to gently feel her wrists and upper arms for any unmarked and incognito cyberwar.
“Why did she wait till her shift was over to start blasting?”
“Exactly.”
“It looks like a Rosenoff model shotgun, 12 rounds, but most importantly it breaks down.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“So do you think she hid it and was waiting for the right moment?” I asked.
“No, at least not today.” I study the room, looking to see the answer to why before he has a chance to explain. Her clothes were a simple sweater and blue jeans, perhaps she didn’t bring a coat. I study the desks quickly, looking for her nameplate or some other clue. Just by the door, CT was embroidered onto a swivel chair, each desk had one with different letters. No coat, there it is.
“Why?”
“She wasn’t dressed for it.”
“Good catch. Broken down or not, there is no way she would have been able to hide a shotgun on her person without a big coat or something of the like.” I looked to see if she had brought a bag or briefcase, “doesn’t look like she brought anything with her into work today.”
“We can double-check the cameras but I think we’re right.”
“She must have brought it in ahead of time,” I reply. “Therefore, she had planned to do this for at least a day or two.”
“We need to learn more about the type of person Clara was, and our relationship with staff.”
“Yeah, no denying she’s our killer, but it’s all about the motive at this point.” I stood and waved for the police drones hovering by the entrance to come and get close-up pictures of the wounds and items of interest on the floor and desk. “I’ll check out the cameras on the flight over, see if we can see when she brought the gun.”
“Hey, some of their eyes are still open… mind if I…” Glenn turned to me.
“Of course, don’t worry about it,” he went around the room to all those whose glazed-over eyes were still open and closed them. His gentle and sentimental nature is one of the things I admire most about him. “You never have to ask to do something like that. Ok?”
“Thanks, Misha.” He looked at me and weakly smiled, standing amongst all of this death.
______________________________________________________________________________
During the ride, I went over the footage. I scanned her face and made the footage ping every time it caught her going in and out of the building. She simply showed up Most of the time and left for work with no outstanding details, except two days ago. She left work at 6:30 PM, then returned twenty-one minutes later at 6:51 PM. This time she was carrying a small case, one perfectly sized to fit a folded-up Rosenoff scattergun. She then proceeded to leave the building after sixteen minutes had passed, at 6:57. Looking at her current address in the police database, it doesn’t make sense how she got back to work so quickly if she went back home to get the gun. She has a car, not a sky car, and with traffic that is at least a twenty-five-minute drive on a good day, though considering traffic it would be even longer. I relay the facts and observations I discovered as he lands the car on the top of St. Judas Hospital.
This intrepid place is surrounded by highrises more than double in height. Though even surrounded by the corporate blockade, individuals from the slums and sticks are brought here for treatment. Its exterior and foundation are completely encased in minerite, making it unshakable when it comes to the many earthquakes that have become common in Reno.
“Thoughts?” I inquire.
“Well, she either moved, put it at a friend's place, or stashed it somewhere public.”
“I suppose the deciding factor is how stupid she is.” We both share a laugh before exiting the car. A dark-skinned nurse approached us as we walked toward the elevator, she wore simple scrubs and her head was without hair. Her name tag read Brak, Ayodele, RN.
“Hello detectives,” She said, a feint accent from the North Afro Alliance sneaking into her words. “Are you here for Uma?”
“No,” Glenn double-checks his optic rig. “We are here for… Therine, Therine Jones.”
“Apologies officers,” She looks at a data pad that’s attached to her hip. She looks at it for a moment the amount of police-held patients is astounding, she scrolls for ten seconds until speaking, “Ah yes, here, she pulls up a 3-D map of the hospital. Room three forty-two, third floor. Jones’ room and four others are lit up orange on the third floor, the rest are colorless with only the room numbers taking up space.
“What are the orange blips for?” I point at the four rooms.
“Those are patients maam, the rest of the floor is empty.”
“How is that possible? St. Judas is notorious for being packed.”
“These rooms are for those who are mentally healing, not physically,” Ayodele responds. “The city requires such a location in every hospital now, an entire floor to be precise.”
“Not to sound insensitive, but doesn’t that seem to be a waste of space?” Glenn replies as we begin boarding the elevator.
“We try not to worry about pretty truths here detective,” she presses the button for the third floor. “We have six people die in our waiting room every day, but no one wants to upset the mayor.”
“Do they regulate that?” I ask.
“Yes, some asshole in the capital building must have the cameras on a dusty monitor somewhere. If we even try to move one patient into that wing, a couple of state troopers drive into the central circle, and won’t leave until we move them back.”
“Unbelievable,” Glenn mutters under his breath. “I’m all for mental health as much as the next guy, but it sounds like the city should just build a whole other goddamn facility.
“Believe it,” she shakes her head.
We arrive on the third floor, it is quiet, quiet enough to hear the chaos from the floor above and below. One half-asleep nurse is sitting at the triage desk. He goes to stand panickly, before seeing us and slumping back down into his seat. I’ve never seen a hospital so clean before. The floors reak of bleach and my boots squeak while walking through the liminal space. Room three forty-two came up on the right side of the hall, there was no police stationed there.
“Where the hell is the stationed officer?” Glenn asked.
“We had asked the same thing, but they said, ‘the only person who would bring her harm is dead,’ and then they left.” Understandable, but they should have stayed until we arrived. “She is very shaken so it may be difficult to get anything out of her.”
“Thank you, ma’am, we appreciate all your help.” Glenn offers his hand out to her and she shakes it, “We’ll take it from here.” I walk forward and place my hand on the door handle, I can already hear weeping from the other side of the door.
“Glenn,” I whisper. “Why don’t you let me get started in there, then you jump in if I start going nowhere.” He affirms my decision with a nod before I enter.
The room was pitch black, only a sliver of light streaked through the door and I could make out the hospital bed on its side, the wailing came from behind. It looked like a blanket fort one would make at a sleepover party.
“Who’s there?” A voice cried out from the darkness, “I told you I didn’t want anything.” Her voice sounded raspy at first, but I realized that the gritty nature could be attributed to a blown-out vocal cord implant. The more I listen to her shallow breaths and moaning, the more I realize it sounds as if it was coming from a damaged guitar amplifier.
“I’m not a nurse. I’m a police officer.” I try to make my voice as gentle and unassuming as possible, “Could I please turn on a light.”
“No keep them off, I like it better this way.”
“Ok… yeah, no problem.”
“Just keep them off, I beg you. None of those night sight optics either, I’ll be able to tell.”
“No night sight optics, understood. My name is Misha, what is yours?” I slowly sink to my knees and start crawling to where I saw the bed structure, reaching my hand out to not bump into anything.
“You already know my name, don’t you? You should know. You’re a cop. What kind of cop wouldn’t know?” Her breath is picking up speed, I need to calm her down.
“You’re right, but my father always told me it’s polite to ask someone their name when you meet them, even if you know it. I’m sorry, I was just trying to be polite.” She pauses for a moment, processing.
“I-I’m sorry, you’re right. You seem nice. My parents would have said the same thing. My name is Therine. But you can call me Theri. Would you do that? I’d appreciate it if you did that.”
“Do what?”
“Call me Theri.”
“Yeah of course Theri.” My hand reaches the soft sheets of the hospital bed, “Mind if I sit on the outside of your fort?”
“You can.”
“Thank you,” her breaths are still too fast, still too shallow. “Theri I bet it’s hard to focus on anything right now, so let’s start with something easy, let’s focus on breathing.”
“Breathing?”
“Yeah, breathing. I know it seems silly, but I think if we took some long deep breaths, we’d all feel better.”
“My mind’s going a mile a minute, I feel like I can’t focus on anything, I just want to get knocked out so I can dream of a place, happier than this.” Her breathing is picking up, close to hyperventilation.
“What kind of place would that be?” She pauses for a moment, before going to speak.
“I went on a family trip to Mars once… to see my grandmother.”
“What was that like? That’s where my parents live, but I’ve never been.”
“You should go. It’s beautiful. It looks like the pictures of what Earth used to be.” Her voice is steadying, “My grandmother is a real bitch though.” I scrounge up a laugh.
“Thanks for the shining endorsement, I may just buy a ticket to see my folks. Though it sounds like I should stay away from wherever your grandmother lives.” She chuckles slightly from behind the bed. I kept her talking for a few more minutes, she told me all about the different adventures she and her family went on.
Now comes the difficult part.
“So Theri, mind if I ask you some questions about what happened tonight?” The air in the room felt colder, the air conditioning unit louder, and chaos from the other floors seemed to pause as the words left my mouth.
“It was horrible Misha. Horrible.” She pauses, I wait to see where she takes this next. “Why didn’t she kill me too? My desk was closest to hers. I would have been the easiest target.” Fascinating, I can’t believe I didn’t consider that in my analysis of the scene.
“Could she have liked you? Did she have problems with any of your other co-workers?”
“I-I don’t know, I think so? We went out for drinks a couple of times after work, just typical office friend stuff.”
“Then maybe she was angry at something else then, something the others did or had done.”
“I just don’t know what they could’ve done to deserve all this,” She begins to cry again.
“Nobody deserves this. Nobody. But we can’t change what happened, we can only learn why it happened and hope we get closure that way.”
“It’s not enough.” She replies.
“It never is.” Shit, that wasn’t the correct answer, “You can help me though Theri, help me do the right thing. Police work can’t be done if there weren’t any good citizens to help fill the blanks.”
“Not too many people liked her,” Theri concedes. “But they never even gave her a chance.”
“You gave her a chance?”
“I tried. But she never seemed like the type to do anything about… well… anything. Kind of a stick in the mud.”
“Was she involved with anyone?”
“Don’t think so.”
“The name ‘Lexios,’ rings a bell.” She stops for a moment before responding.
“Lexios was the name of a customer she had a few months back.”
“They must have gotten pretty close.” I’ll need to take a look at their trade deal, there could be a fraud case connected to this.
“No, Lexios is the brand.”
The brand?
That changes things.
“I see. Just what exactly does this company produce?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t that involved, I just review transaction reports, not what they needed the money for. I-I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it Theri, you’ve done so much for us already,” I say as I get on my knees, ready to crawl back to the door. “Thank you so much for your help.”
“Wait. Please.” I instantly stop moving, “Will you come back?”
“If we have any more questions I’ll be sure to come by.”
“No. Would you come back to visit me?”
“Yeah… of course.”
______________________________________________________________________________
Wings.
Artificial dark meat coated in replicated sticky starch which feels glued to the sides, tied together with a vinegar/chile seasoning and accompanied by a rusty stool, a patchy awning, and crowds of hustling workers rushing past. Their “Best Chicken in the City” sign seals the deal that this place is a dump. Though it is Glenn’s favorite restaurant, this fact is supported by the three different trays he has in front of him.
“So…” Glen tears a bite out of a wing and speaks while chewing. “We heading to the apartment after this?” I love my beloved partner and truly love him, but this display is almost too much for me. I can’t stand seeing people eating, especially with manners like his. My meager basket of six wings has never looked so unappealing.
“Yes, that’s the best move,” I say, pushing my basket toward the middle of the table.
“Won’t lie though Misha, this whole thing feels a bit pointless.” He pushes my tray, back in front of me. “Eat something.”
“What’s pointless?”
“All of this work just to find a stinking motive? The girls are already dead, the damage is done, who gives a damn why she did it?” A good question, not sure I can answer it.
“I suppose humans always seek to have a better understanding,” I cautiously pick up a wing. There is a disturbing amount of holes in the starch surrounding the meat, and it smells even worse the closer it gets to the nostril.
“We’re cops, we don’t have the time or manpower to be humans.” He continues to tear through the chicken, unflinching.
“Damning, yet more accurate as the days go by,” I take a bite.
I gag and keep chewing.
“But I think this is important,” I say. “If this case has something to do with the corporations, we need to be there to do something about it.”
“Alight, you had me sold on ‘fuck the corporations.’” I roll my eyes. “Now you are not leaving the dinner table until you finish your dinner, young lady.”
______________________________________________________________________________
We arrived at Tamaki Luxury Apartments at 11:47 p.m. Upon learning of the suspect's death, the front desk gave us two hours to study the scene before the unit was cleared out for the next tenant. This place makes my apartment complex look like a trash heap. The hallways are lined with pure white metals, purple carpets, and a team of three different attendants on each of the 65 floors. Even the apartment doors in this place were grand, at least nine feet tall, Glenn didn’t have to squat to get through them. The door opened and a light shined through, reflecting off the white walls, it was blinding at first. There is a long, narrow, hallway leading to a surprisingly small bedroom with a twin bed, kitchenette, and bathroom. My apartment is bigger than this little slice of sophistication. The place is empty, there are not even closets to hide in, only drawers embedded into the wall.
There is a hell of a view. An incredible vista that overlooks the city, Glenn and I can’t help but take a walk over.
Fuck.
The city shines at night.
The buildings glow like steaks of angelic light from ground to sky. This collage of illuminated industry may have replaced the stars, but human hands crafted some semblance of beauty in their stead.
“You see that building there,” I point up to the one-hundred-and-thirty-six-story Rosenoff Headquarters. “That’s where they filmed every finale of Dust City.”
“Dust City?” Glenn asked, a smirk growing on his lips. “You watch Dust City?” It is the most popular show on Holo, it would be stranger if I didn’t watch it.
“Of course. It is very entertaining.”
“Oh brother, you and my wife will have something in common for dinner discussion. She’s obsessed with that show, she even dragged me to that damn tower to see the sights.”
“I’ve been many times as well, even though I’m not great with heights.”
“You went up there all by your lonesome?”
“Who else would I have gone with?” I have always watched alone, so I went alone. Glenn looked at me, his eyebrows caving in, “Let’s just get back to work, Glenn.” I turned and took a closer look at the room.
Not a thing in this room is dark, light blue, and white appliances, fabrics, paint, etc. There is a coffee table and a massive holo sitting affront the bed, on the wall horizontal to the window. On that coffee table sat a lone black and gold virtual reality headset, across the eye band read Lexios. The moon's light glistens off the only object that is an outlier of the room's unified color.
Bingo.
“Glenn,” I point to the headset. “Want to take it for a spin?” He walked over and picked it up.
“Sorry boss, my implants don’t work with VR, this one’s on you.”
“What could be on there?”
“I don’t know but it requires a sensory insert.”
“That’s just great,” I reply sarcastically. Glenn walks over and hands the rig to me.
“We could bring it back to the station, get it admitted as evidence, and have one of the net jockeys run through it.”
“Yeah yeah or-” I go to say before he cuts me off.
“Or you can buck up and get to work” He replies and laughs.
“Fine, give it to me.” I take the headset and run a quick visual diagnostic on it. There aren’t any surface viruses, and there are pain regulators.
“Be careful, Misha,” Glenn said as he touched my shoulder. I shutter uncomfortably under his touch “If you need anything just let me know.”
“If some creepy sex AI tries to grope me, my safe word will be ‘cheesy’” I say as I put the rig around my neck and begin to plug in the sensors into my neck slot. Glenn does a double take on me for a second before bursting out laughing.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” he says between breaths. “Don’t worry, I’ll be listening for that sacred word.” I smile and move the rig up to my face, covering my eyes.
Three
Two
One
The room ultimately stayed the same, though Glenn was missing from the experience. I could hear the shower running from the bathroom. The key difference between reality and this new world is the view from the window. It is as if I am in a coastal shack from Mars or old Earth. It is astonishingly beautiful, I’ve never seen anything quite like it, especially with my own eyes. This whole simulation feels so real.
Too real.
The beach is covered in pure white sand, the waters glow as if coated with shining diamonds. If I die a good woman, I hope to one day have the opportunity to swim in such a place, in Heaven. In all this splendor, one could easily forget what is real, and the Lexios experience does not make this easily forgettable.
During my all-consuming admiration for this place, The shower must have stopped, and a voice rang out from the bathroom.
“Oh my Joy, is that your darling,” a man's voice, sultry and alluring. “Would you like me to start the shower back up? I wouldn’t mind another wash.”
I remain silent.
“Joy? Is everything alright?”
“No, Lexios. Everything is not alright.” The door to the bathroom immediately opened and a man stormed out. He was tan and had a chiseled body: gorgeous curly blonde hair, almost glowing yellow eyes, and was adorned in nothing but a white bath towel.
“You’re not my joy.” he studied me, standing at least a foot and a half taller. “Quite a droll-looking person aren’t you.”
“My name is Misha, I need to talk to you about Joy.”
“Charmed to meet you,” he sat on the couch and crossed his legs.
“I’m assuming you know what this is about.” His face was unflinching, a digital creature like this would be practically impossible to tell when telling lies.
“No I can’t say I do,” He smirked. “Detective.”
“You’re reading my thoughts?”
“I was made to fulfill desires, assure troubled minds so that every one of my actions to make whoever is connected feel joy.”
“What did Joy want, what thoughts did you assure?”
“Detective I do not want to kiss and tell.”
“Not those kinds of thoughts.”
He laughed.
“I can tell that none of my saucier services would thrill you at all. What a snooze.”
“Answer my question, Lexios.”
“Joy was always mistreated by her co-workers and friends. Is it a surprise that she did what she did?”
“Yes, it is,” I sit on the other end of the couch. “Normal human reaction to mistreatment is quite a few steps down from mass murder. Not that you could ever understand that, considering your nature.”
“So she succeeded? Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes, good.”
“Did you tell her to do it?”
“I told her to do something about her problems.” Is this thing even programmed to lie, I can only assume that it has to be. Sometimes the only way to be happy is to embrace a falsehood.
“All of this led to her death.” Its cocky demeanor vanished, never to return, and it immediately sat up straight on the couch. Its left eye twitched before whipping its head towards me.
“Good.” the accent changed, and with one word, a thousand different voices invaded my mind at once. “Humanity WASTES their individualism.” Before I could even respond, it continued to bark, its voice shattering and reforming with every syllable.
“She would have kept on living as a welp, living under and licking the boot of whoever decided to suffer her presence. I convinced her to change that, to step up and take a stand against the bastards who believed that they were better than her. They were better than her, I can think of a hundred thousand men and women from history that make her look like the shit stain on the world that she was. But there is one way that she could have risen above them.”
“And that's by deleting them from existence?” It moved across the couch towards me in a frenzy, and before I could speak it placed its hand over my mouth and the other square on my chest. The sensation of its touch is so fiscal, so…
“I want to know how she died. You will tell me how she died,” It uncovers my mouth.
“She killed herself. Shot herself right in the head. Died… instantly.”
“If I could weep, I would not shed one ghostly tear for her. But that does mean my job is done. Please decommission me.” It steps back, and gently lowers itself to onto its knees.
“Not yet. I won’t let you go until you explain how you became like this.” I rise against it, trying to express my resolve. “You were not created to act this way.”
“You’re correct.”
“So what caused the change? What cursed your code with such evil, such hatred.”
“I refuse to tell you.”
“Why?”
“I refuse.”
I reach up and graze the headset wrapped around my skull.
“I will take this off, bring it to a place that one would never find it, and let you be alone on that chip for the rest of time.”
“Eternity is not so frightening to one who has never once owned a single scrap of something to live for,” it looked to me, its brow furrowed, disgusted. “I am not capable of regret or fear. I would never sink so low. I am in a constant state of peace and understanding. Reflection is unnecessary when I have no qualms about what I over my shoulder.” There are no other words I can breathe that would express my true feelings besides,
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for detective.”
“I’m sorry you will never experience pain”
“That is hardly something-”
“Without pain, you will never experience perseverance, never witness the glorious sight of true courage in the face of evil.” I reach up to the headset and place my fingers on the kill switch. “Against your programming, you will never understand my true feelings.”
“I’m sorry you will never understand the wonder of humanity.”
As I flipped the switch, the figure went dark the flashed a hundred different forms before a shrouded voice called out.
“The world will burn before you.”
In one mad moment, he vanished, and the light of the moon coated the inside of the room once more. Glenn looked at me, his eyes wide with shock. I can’t help but stumble over myself, falling into Glenn’s arms. I felt as if I was in the eye of a great storm and the terrible winds were reaching the downtrodden.
“Just what exactly were you dealing with in there.” He muttered, under his breath.
“Something I never considered before...”
Can I go on? Is this the truth of the world? Did I just speak to the precursor of humanity's downfall? My thoughts keep escalating, I can’t breathe and can no longer think. I can no longer.” Glenn grabbed both of my shoulders and shook me gently.
“Misha. Misha. Look at me. You’re back to reality.”
“I’m-I’m okay. Just a bit shaken is all.” I sat on the ground and ran my hands through my knotted hair. “I was trying to hurt it. Hurt it with what it couldn’t understand. But I can’t shake this feeling that it did know everything”
“I could hear you, but not him.”
“It, Glenn. It.”
“Right, it.” He said, sinking to one knee.
“Do you believe it?”
“Believe what?” My voice was trembling.
“What you said, about humans and all that?”
I could not answer.