This choice: An old old man in search of a new lease on life. • Go Back...Chapter #3An old old man in search of a new lease on life. by: Unknown You had seen and done everything there was to do, and to your mild bemusement you could still be surprised by something. Well, you say surprised, it was more of a startled feeling followed by a drawn out sense of confusion.
A car slowed as it passed by the front window of your office, the window rolled down, and a huge muscular arm threw a box out at insane speed. The box smashed clean through the front window, sending glass in all directions as you hunkered behind your desk. You came out with a pistol drawn, but by the time you were up the car had screeched away.
You holstered the weapon and approached the box without caution. If someone wanted you dead they would have found a much less or much more roundabout way of doing so than throwing some sort of package (presumably a bomb) through your storefront, and if they were that uncreative you didn't care anymore, you had lived a fully complete life. You picked up the box, a simple yet robust poly-carbon designed to appear like cardboard. The contents shifted within the box slightly, and was a somewhat snug fit. The contents weighed about eight pounds. It was either a small nail bomb or a severed head.
With mild curiosity you popped the lid off to check which it was. You were greeted with option B, a young looking woman's head. She had short cotton candy pink hair with bangs, pale skin, round cheeks, and duck tape over her mouth. Based on the fact that her eyes stared directly into yours and you could hear mumblings as she wiggled her neck stump you deduced that this head was still alive, probably the work of a synced wormhole that linked the end of her neck to the top of her body, judging by the metal base on her neck. That or she was an android, either one.
You shrug and rip the tape off her face. She yelps in pain for a second, but them breaks into a wide grin "Thank you for helping me out detective Jude." She said in a candy sweet voice.
"How did you know my name?" You ask, having never met a woman who looked like this before (though with how often people modified those kinds of details you could barely recognize anyone anymore).
"The guys in the car told me!" She responded innocently.
"Okay, what's your name?"
She thought for longer than you cared for, humming as she did. She finally responded "I don't know."
You roll your eyes. She was too innocent sounding to be trying to trick you meaning you were now dealing with an amnesiac. You hated amnesiacs, they always complicated things.
"Alright... If you don't remember that then I presume you don't remember anything, right?" You ask annoyed.
She concentrates for a few moments before saying "I remember someone taking my body... It was near Marx st. and Langston Ave.... And the men who drove me told me they would leave me in competent hands, which I guess means you! So, where should we start looking for my body?" She inquired excitedly.
You almost burst out laughing. You lived off of some petty cases about theft and missing property, you weren't built for much else. You were in your mid 350s and despite the advanced medicine you looked at least in your very late thirties to your early forties. You had an average, healthy look... for a forty year old man from the early space colonization age (2020-2050), but by modern standards you were a pepper haired old slob.
"Listen, lady, I've done a lot of things in my time, trust me, but this kind of thing is way out of my league. If you want I could drop you off at a police station so they could sort this... stuff out."
She looked downtrodden "But... They said you were Jack Knight, the best Velusian detective who ever lived." She whimpered.
You chuckled, setting her head back in the box "That was a long time ago honey, those days are over."
You were about to put the lid back on when you hear the woman shout "I'll pay you a huge amount if you help find my body!"
You stop for a moment to ponder what she said. "How?" You ask. "I don't see any pockets on you."
She responds that...   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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