John hated mornings, it didn't matter with day of the week he'd woken up on; it was the simple act of the rays of sun glaring deeply over his features as it spread around his minimalist room and the cheerful, unfiltered, conversations deafeningly screeched below his window that seemed to trigger the beginning of a low tolerance mood. The clock radio didn't seem to aid matters, playing tunes of his youth with the backing title that it was now considered one for the oldies but above all, it was facing the overly familiar and tedious tasks that urged the question of 'just how dedicated he was towards the police district?'
Rolling onto his back, rubbing his face with both hands; a tired groan passed the detectives lips before he forced himself to yank back the duvet.
Technology had progressed in leaps and bounds, reintroducing people to almost forgotten aspects of their lives and making the daily grim somewhat bearable. It would be untrue to say life was better as even with the building of 'the wall', people were still found braving the streets and the rations offered were no more than capsules of their original form. For John, however, it provided mobility and allowed him to continue following in his father's footsteps and on remembering to charge the prosthetic appendage it covered cosmetic aspects such as skin pigmentation and comfortable movement programming that, in itself, took the edge off his sidelined PTSD.
Pushing himself up to rest idly on his elbows, John looked down over himself, grimacing at the technically advanced socket awaiting activation. It was the most discouraging drawback to a morning that never really left his trail of thought. Edging towards the side of the bed John reached out towards the surrounding units for support, pulling himself upright and with an awkward hop navigated himself across the short distance of the room, sighing deeply as he twisted the artificial appendage. He'd barely caught the sound of the release click as it became overshadowed by the familiar announcement clarifying the battery life had yet to meet optimum capacity.
Backing up on a pale cushioned stool, Kennex grimaced as the sockets aligned seamlessly balancing out his profile and with a flick of a switch, from a band wrapped around his upper thigh, a modification was activated transforming the cold steel look to match his skin complexion. Pausing as he rose to his feet, John distributed his weight slowly as he found himself readjusting.
Everything from then flowed with ease while brushing his teeth the detective took note of the growing bags under his eyes. The nights proved no simpler as traumatic memories, plagued his overly active thoughts revealing far more questions than answers. Spitting the foamy fluoride paste into the basin, John wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before rinsing with a capful of mouthwash. His damp hands idly combed through his hair softening more prominent peaks while a slightly creased shirt, pulled from the wash basket was deemed appropriate for his upcoming shift.
And as usual, his toast was burnt beyond his preference around the crusted edges.
–Dorian was under no illusion that Rudy enjoyed his company, unlike his partner John who seemed to hide his real feelings behind an array of quick fired insults and redirect comments. It made no difference that he couldn't partake in the breakfast the technician described as 'The Works', a term he was assured was used worldwide regarding the popular collection of greasy food types. The term 'you don't know what you're missing' was another repeated statement the flawed DRN was often told while he calculated the calorie intake.
It didn't change the fact that each morning he awoke with a smile, hearing the other sing as though no one was listening and taking pride in his accomplishments and how he was greeted with a smile and someone always interested in what he had to say.
What a great way to start the day.