The Other Box: Chapter 2 (by Elliot Bowers)
...
Dark Bounty Hunter
...
_____It was two hours before morning, and Gally seemed sleepy. She was still
in the theater-sized main room, at the 1st Precinct--seated before Murphy's
desk. The cyborg-girl's large eyes went half-lidded, sometimes closing.
_____Chief Thunderhorse was way over at the far northern exit of the room. He
saw Gally come close to falling asleep several times. Almost falling asleep,
as she waited for Officer Murphy to return to the desk.
_____But the police chief knew that there was more to Gally than just a pretty
face and a gentle manner. She looked small and pretty, yet was dangerously
sleek--her athletic form emphasized by the form-fitting black bodysuit she
wore. Small, pretty, and dangerous...
_____But that was not too unusual these days. In cities, children tend to
mature quickly, mentally and physically. They must, because childhood was no
longer a time of prolonged innocence... Hardened children of the city. But
Gally looked hardened in the extreme.
_____Where was Murphy? Officer Murphy was elsewhere in the station, completing
some extra paperwork. He was trying to get around various city regulations to
register Gally as "private detective" or something--because there was no place
in the regulations for the profession of "bounty hunter," exactly...
_____Still over at Murphy's desk, Gally still tried to keep awake and alert.
She wondered why she felt so lethargic; the petite cyborg estimated that she
was only awake for seventeen hours. As only her brain needed rest, she needed
but a few hours of sleep per night.
_____Or maybe, the process by which she came to this odd and nameless city had
altered her sense of time, and she was actually awake longer. Another
possibility was that the process had exhausted her brain. A third could be
that her brain needed food, glucose. Another possibility could.... She came
to that thought, then her large, dark eyes closed.
...
_____The next thing Gally knew, she was standing in a decrepit and bare room,
poorly lit. In the gloom, she could see that the gray paint on the walls was
peeling--revealing concrete beneath the paint. The ceiling of this room seemed
to be painted black, the paint on the ceiling also peeling. And the floor was
made of wooden planks. Wooden, like the door to the left.
_____Hmm... Wood. There was something about the wood of the door, something
she could not quite understand at the moment....
_____There was a HOWLING of wind, and someone came into the room. Gally did
not know how the person came into the room, because she did not see the
wooden door open at all. The person, a very thin old man, was wearing slacks
and buttoned white shirt with suspenders. It was the Kindly Old Man, the one
Gally met in the vacant lot when she came to the city. Was she still in the
city, or in some other place?
_____"Hah-h-h..." wheezed the Kindly Old Man. "Look OUT, kid! Look to the
left and right, because something is happening. Something, indeed! Hah-h-h...
Hah-h-h-h..."
_____Gibberish! The Kindly Old Man was speaking in gibberish. Gally tried
to understand what that Kindly Old Man was talking about. Something is
happening? WHAT was happening? But she could not ask him what he meant; she
could not speak.
______And he began to dance an odd, skipping dance in this dimly lit room.
The material of his pressed slacks and white shirt swished and rippled as he
swirled and hopped. His shoes clicked and clacked as he traipsed about. The
Kindly Old Man wheezed as if coming close to death, but he never stopped
dancing. Oh, how that Kindly Old Man danced!
_____The Kindly Old Man wheezed and hopped once more, then he skipped right on
over to the wooden door. His right hand on the doorknob, he opened it. And
beyond the open door was absolute darkness. A darkness deeper than the
universe. Gally wanted to scream!
...
_____Her eyes snapped open. That was a dream, just a dream! There was no
dancing, wheezing "Kindly Old Man" here. And she was not in an old room with
gray peeling paint, with a wooden plank floor. She now actually sitting in a
swivel chair--a chair in a closed office. And the floor was marble floor.
Before her was an expensive-looking, heavy wooden desk.
_____It was quite an office here, in fact--private and well-furnished: a change
from the large and impersonal main room of this police station. The walls here
were polished and wood-paneled. And everything was well-lit.
_____There were portraits on the walls--historical pictures of past police
officers hung high up. They were pictures of how police officers dressed in
the old days.
_____Gally knew history. She knew that, somehow, this city kept alive the
tradition of the "police"--public professionals who maintained law and safety
for the public good. And, the pictures on the walls showed that tradition.
The police in the pictures were men and women in uniforms, standing proud,
looking out from the photographs. One of the photographs had a red-and-white
striped flag, one with stars in a corner.
_____Looking at the police in the photographs, Gally saw goodness and honesty.
She somewhat wished that Scrap Iron City had good people like that to keep
everyone safe when they slept...
_____"The old days are gone," said someone behind Gally. Startled, she suddenly
snapped up from her seat and turned around. It was Police Chief Thunderhorse.
_____The dapperly dressed, tan-skinned police chief was standing next to the
open door, a brown paper bag in his right hand. "And the old days will
probably never return again," he added. "Sit down and relax."
_____Gally sat down. And her large dark eyes followed Chief Thunderhorse
as he moved over to his desk here and he himself sat down. He raised the brown
paper bag. "I brought along a little something for your breakfast. At least,
something I believe you metal-bodied beings can eat. And please sit down. Be
at ease. It is 0630. You have a new day ahead."
_____Gally sat down. "I slept here, through the night?" she asked. "It was
not my intention to occupy your station as a place of rest. I could have slept
well on..."
_____"...On the streets?" interrupted Chief Thunderhorse. "Or in an alley,
next to a dumpster?" He pushed the paper bag across the desktop, to Gally.
She stared at the police chief before taking the bag.
_____"Little girl, if you would have slept in the streets, without knowing
places are safest, you could have been taken to a body bank or some black-
market tech market--never to wake up alive." He shook his head. "You are new
to this city, and do not know where it is safe." He gestured toward Gally.
"Now, please do eat."
_____Opening the paper bag, Gally saw six plastic-wrapped bars of various types.
Some were chocolate. Others were labeled as being "high in carbohydrates" and
"zero waste."
_____"Those are zero-waste food bars, made by the Zik Zak corporation," said
Chief Thunderhorse. "Eat those, and you'd get eight hours of energy and
nutrition... Better yet, the food bars are treated with complicated catalysts
as so they are completely digested. You don't have to use the toilet after
eating them. They are somewhat expensive to those who earn average wages,
but popular among network executives." He smiled. "I never really met a
metal-bodied little girl before, or any sort of cyborg, so I did not know what
else to buy you. I did not know if you can defecate normally. At least with
those bars, you need not worry about that."
_____"I thank you..." said Gally. Her metal fingers dipped into the bag, went
for one of the food bars first. She unwrapped it, bit into it. Very tasty.
It tasted slightly like cinnamon-flavored granola.
_____"Good, at least you eat like a human being," said Chief Thunderhorse.
"Some around here thought that you had to be plugged in or had to be gassed up
like a car. I thought otherwise..." He leaned back in his comfortable seat.
"Care to hear about today's business now, or later?"
_____Finishing the food bar without any stains on her cheeks or lips, Gally
answered. "Yes, I would like to hear it now. That, as so I may think ahead.
Whatever there is planned, I would like to continue pursuing my target while
I remain in this city."
_____"Do not worry," answered the police chief, sitting up and moving his
comfortable seat closer to the wooden desk. "What I have planned should help
you find whomever you seek. How so? Because, today's activities will increase
your familiarity with this city."
_____Midway through another food bar, Gally swallowed. Said, "You are correct.
What, by the way, is the name of this...city? No one has said its name, and I
saw no logos or titles..."
_____Thunderhorse shrugged. "That is of no matter. But now, to the point.
Today, I would like for you to go on patrol with a detachment of Metro Officers.
Do so, and I will reward you with more credits. Also, going on patrol may
give you clues--information--on the whereabouts of your target. I cannot issue
you a firearm, a gun, but you are permitted to use deadly force in assistance of
Metro Cop policing. Do you agree to helping patrol?"
_____Nearly done with her meal of food bars, Gally quickly thought over her
options. It was still true that she lacked familiarity with this city, a city
that was similar to--but still different from--Scrap Iron City. Being ignorant
of this city's ways, she could encounter some sort of danger that others of
this city knew--and not know how to deal with it.
_____She finished eating another food bar... "I agree to your offer, Police
Chief Thunderhorse. I agree, in order to gain more information. May I at
least see a map of this city?"
...
_____Elsewhere in the downtown core of this city, there were some buildings
that were taller--much taller than other structures. As the morning sun shone
down, these taller glassy skyscrapers glinted against the blue and cloud-mottled
sky high overhead. These skyscrapers were homes to television networks and
other technological-development industries.
_____One such towering skyscraper belonged to Network 66, one of the most
powerful computer software and entertainment networks in the city. It was
located near the west side of the city's downtown core area. At night, the
massive logo atop the building glows red against the dark city sky. But during
the day, the massive logo atop the building was dark, like now.
_____Like the other television networks, Network 66 had plenty of wealthy and
technology. In the skyscraper that was Network 66, professional men and women
in business suits--and sometimes lab coats--did the work to keep profits flowing.
Profits, at any ethical cost...
_____Network 66 was important now because this was where Dr. Nova had been able
to get a job--a high-ranking job, in fact. The lucky bastard, it wasn't every
day that Mr. Grossberg--CEO of Network 66--promoted anyone to the head of
"Research and Development" on the first day. Truth be told, Dr. Nova--that
gray-haired nutball of a scientist--was DAMNED lucky from the first day he
came to the city.
_____He had actually arrived a week ahead of Gally. That, though both this
metaphysicist and that petite cyborg were both present when the box was opened.
And, as far as Dr. Nova knew, Gally did not come here. So, he set to work in
establishing himself in this new city.
...
_____The story went like this, as far as Mr. Grossberg knew. The research
techies of Network 66 ran into Dr. Nova at a bar a week ago--at sunset. They
spoke to him, invited him in for drinks--though Nova preferred eating some kind
of foreign desert instead of getting drunk. From the first few seconds,
Dr. Nova told them technological that sounded decades, if not centuries, into
the future. Like, what he told about the rudiments of cyborg technology--and
how a wise corporation could use that technology to eliminate competition.
_____That, and he talked about technologies to manipulate aspects of reality
itself to one's liking. Mr. Grossberg's knowledge of science was limited, but
the techies in R&D said that everything Dr. Nova made too much sense to give
up. They later BEGGED to have Dr. Nova head up Network 66's R&D department--
though there never was a head of that department before...
...
_____Now, Dr. Nova was up on the 96th floor of this building, standing in
Mr. Grossberg's grandly furnished and grand-sized executive office--the grand
marble desk near the end of the room. Behind the marble desk were tall tinted
windows that gave a somewhat darkened view of the city--the morning light muted.
_____Mr. Grossberg himself was here. He was a business-suited, thirtyish-looking,
pale man with slicked-back brown hair and a blue-eyed stare... The sort of
blue-eyed stare that tended to glare coldly at times. Seated at his black
marble desk, he was a grand lord seated at his corporate throne.
_____Without a seat, Dr. Nova had to stand in front of the desk. But he did
not mind standing, especially since he had a nice big bowl of his favorite
desert. He was just spooning away, swallowing down plenty of that stuff.
For such an average-looking man, Dr. Nova could eat plenty.
_____But now, to business. Mr. Grossberg set his hands atop his desk. "Well,
Dr. Nova. I see that you have had quite a bit of that flan you like so much.
Let's get to the point."
_____But the labcoat-wearing madman seemed unaware of Mr. Grossberg. Dr. Nova
did not seem aware of anything at this moment, actually; he was too busy
eating flan.
_____His employees had their vices. Alcohol, cocaine, light neurostim, but...
Never before did he see anyone addicted to a desert food! A flan addict, of
all things, partaking of his addiction right in his office! Annoyed,
Mr. Grossberg SLAPPED the desk with both palms. "Didn't you just hear me?"
_____"Oh, I did! I did! Mmm, this is good flan! It lacks that slight undertaste
of somewhat toxic impurities as found in Scrap Iron City, but still...
DELICIOUS! Mmm, yes!"
_____Mr. Grossberg's patience was on a knife-sharp edge. "Dr. Nova! I did
NOT hire you to eat flan in my office. You have been in my employ for a week.
Almost half a million credits have gone straight into your new lab facilities
in this building, as well as plenty of cash for your new living quarters. What
do YOU have for ME now?"
_____"Ah-h-h...!" sighed the lab-coated madman. With some effort, he stopped
eating his flan. Cradling the bowl in his left arm, he began pacing. Pacing
left and right. What he really wanted to do was continue eating this tasty
flan, but...!
_____"To begin," he began, "I am grateful for the facilities you have provided.
Though I admit that my knowledge of cyborg technology is limited, and the
technological resources available here are moderate, my assistants and I have
made much progress! Yes, WONDERFUL progress." Pace, pace, pace...
_____He stopped pacing long enough to swallow two spoonfuls of flan. "Delicious
progress! Mmmm... Now, with the correct machinery set, we needed a test subject--
a fresh body, complete with brain. In fact, we needed several test subjects--
bodies and brains.
_____"I am quite pleased about the ease with which whole bodies can be purchased
in this city--from the so-called 'body banks.' That, and test subjects can be...
'borrowed' from the so-called Fringe area at the city limits--the slums. My
assistants used both of those resources.
_____"After several instances of trial-and-error, my assistants and I have used
the technology available to create several obedient cyborgs: human brains in
electromechanical bodies. The brains had to be modified a bit, but they were
relatively intact when the process was completed. Though the finished products
are not quite up to the standards of strength I had in mind, they seem
functional. Further testing is still required, however.
_____"That accomplished, I also continued research on my box. Though its
size and shape has not undergone any changes, its color slightly darkens at
random intervals. I have tried to open it again, but I cannot. As with the
last time I opened it? Well, let me say that the results were very, very
interesting. Delicious results, in fact. Mmmm, as tasty as--" SLAM-M-M!
_____Mr. Grossberg had slammed his fists against his desk, the sound echoing
throughout this grand office. "You can continue work on that box of yours
LATER. Now, about the cyborgs. You said that you have several of them
available. Excellent, an experimental technology brought to the fore in a
mere week. Now... When do I see them?"
...
_____Mr. Grossberg would see "them" right away. He and Dr. Nova left this
grand office, went down the long hall--towards the elevators. To the left and
right, flanking this hall, were the pistol-toting guards of Network 66 elite
security--their uniforms vaguely resembled janitorial clothing. Though human,
they may as well be robots; they were stiffly silent, even as Mr. Grossberg
himself walked past.
_____Since the R&D floors were just a few floors from the top of this skyscraper,
the elevator ride was short. No need for chatter between Grossberg and Nova.
The elevator doors opened, and Mr. Grossberg was quickly impressed with what
he saw.
_____This area was changed, different from before. He had occasionally taken
visits to the R&D floors before, just seeing long rows of computer workstations
and pale skinny people in lab coats working away. They did their job, and he
let them. But now...
_____Oh, NOW! Now, this entire floor had been changed into one large room--
radically altered to fit Dr. Nova's cyborg development program. This wide
room now had white marble and white walls, a white room softly lit by slightly
filtered fluorescent lighting. Scientists working here... The computers were
now along the right side, against the wall. And two tables were set up in the
middle. At the far left wall were what looked like raised metal caskets,
though caskets did not have so many wires and pipes connected to them. The
professionals in casual clothing and lab coats worked both sides of the room,
at the computers on the right and at the casket-like equipment at the left.
_____Mr. Grossberg walked towards the left side of the room, his hard-polished
shoes making clacking sounds as he walked. Technicians over at that side of
the room glanced up occasionally, then paused in their work as the important
man in the business suit approached. They stood stock-still, like small animals
being approached by a large, hungry coyote.
_____Then, this wide room was quiet save for the sounds of typing on the far
right side, along with the slight hum of electromechanical machinery. Everyone
anticipated what Mr. Grossberg had to say.
_____"The good doctor said you had things to show me," said Mr. Grossberg.
"So where are the things? Show me the new toys."
_____One of the technicians, a balding nervous sort, stood up from kneeling
beside one of the tube-fed caskets. "Well, Mr. Grossberg, thanks to Dr. Nova's
extensive technological input," he began, "we have successfully turned four of
ten test subjects into cybernetically enhanced beings. We have taken biological
brains, altered them, and successfully integrated those bodies within
electromechanical bodies. However, we cannot be sure of their viability just
yet. We would like to test them... If that is fine with you, sir."
_____"Really?" went Mr. Grossberg. "Are you just saying that to placate me,
or will you actually show them to me? It all sounds impressive, but how does
the final product LOOK?"
_____The balding technician smiled and stood a little straighter. "Well, sir,
they look like this..." That technician then turned to two other people in
lab coats. "Let's power up Number Three, and open the hatch."
_____Those two technicians complied. They quickly walked to the other side of
the room, where the computer workstations were. Seconds later, things on this
side of the room began to happen.
_____There was a hiss as the airtight seal on one of the caskets shut off.
With a whirring sound of electric motors, the lid on that silvery casket raised
up on motorized hinges--opened. When the frosty mist cleared and the lid open,
something was visible.
_____It was something made of metal... The metal body was almost skeletally
thin, especially in the arms and legs--though the joints were thick. And the
hands were claw-like--sharp fingers, articulated with exposed machinery.
The head was a metal skull with a mask-like face--a face made of rubber.
Video lenses for eyes.
_____Dr. Nova stepped up to Mr. Grossberg's right side. The metaphysicist
somehow obtained a fresh bowl of flan from somewhere--probably from some kind
of dispenser. "Delicious! Well... Ahem! Mr. Grossberg, you may want to
stand back a bit."
_____"Hmm..." went Mr. Grossberg. He backed off a bit, taking a few steps
back. What did that flan-eating madman have in mind?
_____And he soon found out. "Number Three, get out of the storage unit and
stand up," ordered the doctor. The skeletal metal-man complied. He put his
skeletal metal hands on the edges of the casket. He next slowly swung his
left leg out, putting the left foot to the marble floor. The other leg followed,
and he stood--a blank look on his rubber face.
_____"Now, introduce yourself to Mr. Grossberg," said Dr. Nova. "If it were
not for his cash and my flan... AHEM! Sorry. If it were not for Mr. Grossberg's
cash, you would be dead--not that death is too much of an inconvenience given
what I could develop soon... Well, what are you waiting for? Speak up! Tell
the CEO who you are."
_____"I am NUMBER THREE. I am a PROTOTYPE," droned the skeletal metal-bodied
man, hands slightly swinging. "I will serve your purpose." A tinny, robotic
voice.
_____"My God," went Mr. Grossberg. "This thing is like a cross between a
zombie and a robot. It talks and can stand up, but what is it really good for?
Can it DO anything else?" He turned around. "I want to see it work. I want
to see how tough it is."
_____A few more spoonfuls of flan, and Dr. Nova nodded. "Mmm... Delicious!
We can do that, just for you." Addressing the prototype cyborg, he said,
"Number Three, approach the test area."
_____Going slowly, the metal-bodied man clomped ponderously across the floor.
He stopped in a yellow-and-white striped rectangular area on the floor. Machinery
whirred in the floor, and then he was boxed in by a circular glass barrier
that slid up from the floor.
_____"We use this to test kinetic tolerances," said Dr. Nova, bowl of flan in
his left hand. He spooned a bit more. "Mmm...! Okay, start with some small
arms fire! Nine millimeter, single shots!"
_____Someone over at the right side of the room nodded, then tapped a few keys
on a computer keyboard. Over here, something like a video camera slid down
into the glass case, but it had a gun barrel in place of a cameral lens.
_____CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The gun popped out a few shots at the solid chest
of the prototype cyborg in the glass case. But there was no damage, just
little sparks as the bullets ricocheted off of the titanium. The prototype
cyborg's rubber face was still stoic.
_____Dr. Nova swallowed a bit more flan. "Delicious! Now, we will go for the
strength test! Drop in a test animal. One stronger than human."
_____A few more keystrokes at the other side of the room, and the ceiling-
mounted gun in the case withdrew. The ceiling over the annealed glass case
opened up wider, and a hairy, muscular gorilla dropped in.
_____The squat, strong animal looked around, snarled. It saw the cyborg, and
STRUCK the metal being in the chest. Had the intended victim been human, the
chest would have been caved in.
_____The prototype cyborg staggered, but still stood. No damage! THUMP!
The gorilla tried again! THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! It tried pounding the cyborg a
few more times. But that did not work; the gorilla only bloodied its limbs
in pounding the cyborg. Snarling, fangs bared, the gorilla pounced... But
that was a deadly mistake.
_____All that the prototype cyborg did was raise its hands to chest level,
fingers out. Silvery fingers gripped into the gorilla's meaty shoulders--
skewering the living meat. The large animal howled and snarled, began to
shake. Blood splurted from wounds and onto the floor inside the sealed area--
some splurting against the case. And the gorilla whooped some more in pain.
_____"My goodness..." said Mr. Grossberg. He expected the skinny cyborg to
be crumpled like aluminum foil. But the gorilla was the thing that crumpled.
"Number Three, kill it. It's making too much noise and blood."
_____Inside the case, Number Three heard the command from Mr. Grossberg. There
was so much blood spread out inside the case that what the cyborg did next
wasn't visible. All that Mr. Grossberg saw was that the cyborg did something
very quick and very violent, making for an awful RIPPING sound of meat being
torn--living meat. The gorilla only whooped once more when it died.
_____Dr. Nova chewed his flan... "Flame test!" he shouted. "Alcohol flame.
This will clean the cyborg and the test area."
_____There was a FWOOSH of bluish flame in the annealed glass case, from the
floor. Had the flame gone from the ceiling downward, there would have been
danger to the prototype cyborg: a top-down flame would have heated the brain.
Instead, the rush of high-pressure alcohol flame just incinerated flesh and
blood inside the case, flaring against the cyborg's skeletal metal feet.
_____When the flaming stopped, the gorilla's remains were skeletal--a skeleton
surrounded by dark powder that had once been flesh and blood. Standing above
it was the cyborg, standing and slightly swaying. Its rubber face wilted and
drooped because of the heat, but it did not seem to care.
_____"I like what I see," said Mr. Grossberg. "A few more of these could be
quite helpful to some of my plans for network competition. And you said that
you're only limited by today's technology?"
_____Eating up a bit more flan, Dr. Nova answered. "If the manufacturing
capabilities of this city's resources were much more refined, I could continue
work on my true specialty, that of nanotechnology. THAT, my friend, would
most certainly have lead to a whole different story! But... Mmmm! Delicious!
This is VERY good flan, indeed!" And he walked away to get some more.
---
_____Back elsewhere in the city, back at the 1st Precinct, Gally and Officer
Murphy were being briefed. Murphy wore his bulky black kevlar padding, his
helmet on his desk. Gally was dressed as usual in black sleeveless bodysuit--
which was rinsed and polished. In fact, Gally herself had been rinsed and
cleaned in a shower--despite officers worrying about her becoming rusty or
something. She looked fresh and new. Both the petite cyborg and kevlar-clad
officer stood behind a desk in the main room, Murphy's desk.
_____Detective Walthers had already gone to the desks of other officers, giving
them their instructions before sending them out. He was now here at this desk.
_____"Essentially, you two are patrolling the middle northern sector of the
Fringes. It's Sector N-3," he said. Murphy and Gally nodded.
_____"It's a typical patrol," continued the detective. "Just go your route,
looking for any outbreaks of overt violence or trouble. As we know, plenty of
things happen there that go against the laws. But unless its an outright
disturbance to the peace, try not to interfere.
_____"As it is, all the poor bastards in the Fringes are spooked up about ghosts
and aliens now. Rumors about some kind of old man in suspenders and slacks,
talking crazy stuff. First Max Headroom takes over our televisions at random,
now we've got rumors of spooks. Just great.
_____"Anyway, N-3 is an easy patrol," finished the detective. "Good for beginners
like Gally here. Any questions, you two?"
_____At this point, a Metro Cop in kevlar armor and black helmet came jogging
up. He was in a hurry to talk to Detective Walthers. "What's up, Trace?"
asked the detective.
_____"It's fuckin' Headroom...! Pardon my French," said the newly arrived
Metro Cop, his voice muffled by his helmet. "He wants to talk to the cyborg-
girl. And the guy won't freakin' go away until he does!"
_____"God-damnit..." muttered the detective. "Okay, let me guess. He's in
the monitor room, right? Hogging up security data feeds?"
_____"No, he's bein' a real asshole this time! Takin' up the tv in Waiting
Room #2," answered Officer Trace. "And we can't freakin' unplug the tv without
breakin' the regulations. Unless... Heh, heh... Unless ya wanna look the
other way while I bend a few rules. Ya know?"
_____"No, no, no..." answered Walthers. "Gally, Murphy...let's go talk to Max
Headroom. He's probably going to crack jokes about my tie again. The bastard
always does." A gesture from Walthers, and the two followed him out of the
main room.
---
_____Down the hall, near the ground-floor entrance, there were two small
waiting rooms: Waiting Room #1 and Waiting Room #2. Both of them were the
same--small and functional. Both were on opposite sides of the hall. These
two rooms were where citizens could walk in and make complaints to whatever
desk sergeant was on duty.
_____Left of the hall was Waiting Room #2--just like Waiting Room #1. In it
was simple furniture. Two long benches at the sides, with a glassed-in reception
window built into one wall. A television was suspended from the ceiling.
_____Gally, Murphy, and Detective Walthers walked in and looked up at the
television just above standing height. Indeed, the blonde-haired computer-
generated commentator was on the television, diagonal line patterns running
in the background.
_____"H-h-hello, you all!" said the man in the television. "Hi to you, metal
girl! G-g-gosh, it's been SO-O-O long since we last met!" He sniffed a sad
sniff. "I miss you!"
_____Looking at the man in the television, Gally shook her head once. "It has
been a mere nine hours. Can a person count that as being 'a long time'?" she
asked.
_____"S-s-sorry..." said the man in the television, his voice still with that
stutter-glitching. "Nobody's-nobody's-nobody's perfect, except me sometimes.
Well, I'm not as perfect as perfect can be, but I'm close." He grinned.
"B-b-but there's someone you have to MEET today. That is, someone else besides
ME. By the way, nice necktie, Detective Walthers. Which t-t-trash can did
you dig it out of?"
_____"Aw, Hell! I knew he'd pick on it!" grunted Walthers, crossing his white-
sleeved arms as so he covered some of his tie. "Cut to the point, Headroom.
Why are you really here?"
_____"What do I w-w-want? You mean, besides you changing your taste in
neckties?" answered Headroom. "Okay-okay-OKAY, I said all that I wanted to
say. Again... Gally, just be ready to meet a VERY good friend of mine. In
fact, he's S-S-SUCH a good friend that he and I are almost the same person.
Now, I must say, 'A BIENTOT, MA CHERE!'" He puckered a kiss to Gally, then
vanished from the television. Now, there was a commercial for oatmeal playing
on the screen.
_____Detective Walthers shrugged. "In that case, I want you two to patrol
another part of the Fringes altogether. I still don't trust that computer-
generated guy."
_____"Why does Max annoy you so?" asked Gally. "Though he seems less than
serious, his intentions just may be helpful. And he helps without request for
rewards, not even monetary reward."
_____"Hah, imagine that. Money, for Max Headroom," commented Murphy. "What
would Headroom do with a credit rod? What would he buy, some kind of virtual
mansion?" He looked to Detective Walthers. "Anyway, what's our new
assignment?"
_____"You may as well go back to where first Gally appeared in town," answered
Walthers. "The western-most sector. Particularly, patrol the area that's
just a block from downtown. Now let's get you to your car."
...
_____By an absolutely brutal coincidence, something was happening in that area
of the Fringes at that very moment--the sector that Walthers reassigned Gally
and Murphy to. It was a brutal and absolutely frightening event, in fact.
_____But the event was only a "test." That, though the "test" made for the
loss of a dozen lives among the impoverished and semi-employed derelicts who
populated these slums. This was going to be a test of experimental technology
being misused.
_____The time was now 1036, morning, and the people of this part of the Fringes
did what they normally did when not working. They sat around outside the
ill-maintained buildings, drinking and talking, smoking and relaxing. About
half of this area's people were away--working in some dangerous and low-pay
industrial building. But the people who were left around here for now were
deemed too low-skilled and unhealthy to work.
_____With the warm sun going higher in the sky, things seemed slow and tired.
It was hot, but the people here were used to the heat--to an extent. Anyone
who wasn't just died anyway, their rag-clad bodies snatched away and sold for
cash--their meager possessions also stolen.
_____A van pulled up along one of these hot-and-tired streets. Some lazy eyes
glanced warily at the van, half-caring about who drove it. If that van stayed
here for too long, it was probably going to be stolen and stripped by some of
the local opportunists.
_____The rear doors opened, and frosty misted air gushed out. Then out came
seven metal-bodied monsters. Skinny and skeletally thin metal bodies, their
faces made out of rubber.
_____That is too fucking weird! People at the sidewalks and on front porches
could not believe what they were seeing! What the HELL were those things?
Was this some sort of Metro Cop stunt? And who was... Oh shit!
_____Those metal freaks suddenly moved a lot faster! One of them stumbled and
fell without getting up; it malfunctioned. But the other six spread out and
RAN at the bystanders here at the sidewalks.
_____One of the metal monsters ran at a poor guy leaning against a red-brick
building. He dropped his cheap bottle of gin-and-cleaning fluid when the
metal freak picked him up by the neck--sharp fingers sinking in. Red liquid
jetted from a pierced jugular vein. His blood mixed with the spilled drink
on the sidewalk.
_____"No-o-o...!" squealed a group of kids as they tried to get away. But
two of the metal freaks were more than enough to snatch them up and tear them
apart. Blood and shredded flesh mixed with tattered clothing as the children
were physically destroyed, their screams dying in the warm air and echoing
among the buildings.
_____Someone sleeping in an abandoned car was quickly awakened when one of the
doors was snatched open. He just had a glimpse at the metal freak as it tore
out some intestines and stomach. The sleepy derelict then realized that those
were HIS insides being torn out, and then he died.
_____And the prototype cyborgs continued rushing about the streets--tearing up
men, women and children. Panic spread. People within three city blocks from
the scene saw bleeding, injured people running away from SOMETHING. At least,
those who got away managed to do so with most of their limbs intact. They were
screaming, waiving their arms, and being extremely loud. Some of them even
dropped dead from just terror--which strained their drug-scarred hearts. It
was becoming a quick and violent mess on that street, caused by just six of
those THINGS.
_____Within just thirteen minutes, it was over. The six prototype cyborgs,
painted red with blood, walked back to the waiting van. When those got in,
two people in biohazard suits got out from the front and lifted up the cyborg
that stumbled and malfunctioned; they put it in the back of the van along with
the others. And they closed the door.
_____The van motored away, driving along the street. As it did, the thermo-
reactive paint on its sides changed colors. And the license plates flipped
over, changing. A big phony antenna extended on the top. In short, it changed
to look like a different van. Going back to downtown...
_____What it left behind was a scene much different from when it came. Bodies.
Bodies, torn and mutilated, were all along this street. They looked like meat
tossed onto sidewalks and on front stoops, lying in the street and near gutters.
Many of them were ripped open. Faces showed looks of bloody horror. The
breeze blew through the abandoned street, blowing between the buildings and
over the dead.
---
_____Gally was in a police cruiser with Officer Murphy, with Murphy driving.
The police cruiser was a contrast. It was a fully bright day, but the dark
vehicle was like a polished shadow cruising through the streets, the white
MC logo on its sides. A respected and feared presence, the vehicle meant that
there were Metro Cops on the way; everyone best behave.
_____This four-wheeled vehicle of Metro Cop authority passed from the urban
downtown city-scape and into the slums at the outer edges of the city--the
Fringes. And, the vehicle should have carried Metro Cop authority with it.
People in the Fringes normally kept their respect and their distance when the
Metro Cops came...
_____But this was not a normal situation.... THUMP! Gally flinched, her large
dark eyes looking at the car window on her side. Someone had thrown a small
dead animal at the window. Something like a rat, but larger.
_____THUMP! THUMP-THUMP! "What the Hell?" exclaimed Murphy as he gripped
the steering wheel. THUMP! THUMP, THUMP! "They're throwing possums and
trash at us. Gally, this is known as a 'civil disturbance.'"
_____"Trash and...possums?" asked Gally. "Why throw such animals? What has
come to pass in this city that cause the citizens to throw possums?"
_____"Evolution happened. Survival to the fittest. Damned possums ate all
the rats years ago," said Murphy. "Now I wish they hadn't... At least rats
wouldn't have made so much damned noise. What's going on here?"
_____As Officer Murphy slowed the vehicle, Gally saw more people of the Fringes.
She saw them angry. They were the angry, ragged masses in more- or less-rough
looking clothes, rough looks on their faces as they stood on the sidewalks.
They were shouting now, shaking their fists and threatening to become violent.
They seemed not far from changing their tactics--from throwing small dead
rodents to throwing punches and bricks.
_____But the people were not stupid. On more than one occasion, Metro Cops had
"suppressed" angry masses with lethal force. The Metro Cops were much better
armed than the people of the Fringes. And the people of the Fringes did not
really want more violence today. Not yet, at least.
_____Left hand on the steering wheel, Officer Murphy reached down with his right
and clicked on the two-way radio. It was a two-way video-audio connection,
and a female dispatcher--sergeant-rank--appeared on the screen. "Officer Murphy,
what is your situation?" asked the dispatcher.
_____Gally looked at the small screen once, then went back to looking outside.
Worried about this situation. In Scrap Iron City, people were normally too
too tired or too hungry to be this violent. The people of Scrap Iron City
were generally more soft-natured, though some turned to extreme violence. But
this is not Scrap Iron City.
_____She listened to Officer Murphy communicate with the dispatcher over the
radio. "I'm partnered with the cyborg. We're en route to our assigned patrol
of the Fringes. But we now have a civil disturbance in progress," he said.
_____The dispatcher's tinny voice sounded through the speaker. "I have a
triangulated lock on your location. Do you request suppression? There are
multiple units available." Indeed, in a jiffy, there could be plenty of
Metro Cops on the scene--ready to shoot down people until things calmed down.
_____Ignoring the scene outside, Gally looked at Murphy. Would it come to
fighting the masses outside? In the darker part of her mind, she wondered
how many she could kill by hand before someone stopped her. And she actually
grinned...
_____Murphy saw the petite cyborg-girl grin, and he did not like it. There
was something feral about how she looked now, something dark and dangerous.
He saw her large eyes glinting with something he did not like at all. And
somehow, he kept this car going straight despite the cold feeling he had from
looking into those eyes.
_____"Officer Murphy?" interrupted the dispatcher's voice, cutting into Murphy's
thoughts. "What is your answer? Units are available."
_____"Negative on that," said Murphy, shaking his head and looking ahead again.
"I would like additional units for backup, but NOT for suppression. Please have
backup on standby only."
_____"Roger that," answered the dispatcher. And the Metro Cops logo appeared
on the small communications screen, with "standby" typed out at the bottom.
If Murphy needed backup, all that he needed to do was ask.
_____"Gally, speak to me," he said. "Speak... Don't look that way. What's
wrong with you?"
_____The petite cyborg blinked. Looked away. "I give apology. It is just
that I anticipated a physical conflict, fighting. Killing is my profession,
and it sometimes becomes more than that."
_____Murphy shrugged. "I suppose... But you just may have to kill someone
here and today. Just be ready." He then slowed the car, stopped it.
_____And the angry people along the sidewalks suddenly stopped their aggression.
When a Metro Cop stopped, he or she meant business... Murphy and Gally opened
their car doors, stepped out of the sleek black vehicle.
---
_____Standing outside, Murphy spoke to Gally. "Get ready," he said. Then
Gally leapt atop the vehicle roof, crouched there. The Metro Cop reached into
the vehicle to get a handheld loudspeaker--a bullhorn. With his free hand,
the kevlar-clad officer pointed to a man in smeared coveralls, standing on the
sidewalk along with several others. "YOU, tell me what this is all about!"
_____The man in coveralls shouted, "Bloke, I'll tell ye wha' happened! Me
friends done got SLAUGHTERED! Just sittin' about, they were! Then some
metal-bodied monsters were brought, and they butchered me mates! Wholesale
murder! And WHERE WERE the METRO COPS? YE GOOD-FOR-NOTHIN' BOBBIES!"
_____All around, the crowd shouted before Murphy shouted back--his voice
amplified by his bullhorn. "QUIET! If you want to be suppressed, I can do
that!"
_____Gally was eyeing the people of the crowd when she heard the phrase
"metal-bodied monsters." She promptly hopped down from the roof of the police
cruiser, crossed her hands and forearms behind her back. That way, less of
her arms stayed visible. Her head looked normal, and her bodysuit hid the rest
of her metal physique.
_____Her feelings for battle-lust turned to worry and shame. Particularly,
shame in being metal-bodied. As far as she knew, everyone else in this city
was fully human, and she was not. She was an outsider. An oddity. A monster.
_____"REPEAT that description?" asked Murphy through the bullhorn. "Did you
say MONSTERS? What do you mean?"
_____"I mean what I said, ye bobby!" responded the man in coveralls. "Don't
ye all agree? MONSTERS!" The crowd shouted their agreement. They shouted
about monsters! Monsters made of METAL!
_____"SHOW us!" answered Murphy. He then got into the police cruiser and put
the bullhorn away. "Gally, let's go!" he shouted above the clamor of the mob.
"We have to investigate."
---
_____Gally got into the vehicle with Murphy, closed the door. The phrase "metal-
bodied monsters" stayed with her. Metal-bodied monsters? Wide-eyed, sitting
in the shotgun seat, she stared at her metal hands and arms. By that description,
she was indeed one of the alleged monstrosities.
_____Her body was metal--hidden beneath her form-fitting bodysuit. Beneath
the synthetic flesh of her face and beneath her dark hair, her skull was metal
as well. A body of metal machinery shaped like a girl-woman. Perhaps, her
soul was no longer human, either... "What am I?" she asked in a small voice.
_____Clenching his jaw, Murphy had no immediate answer. But he asked something.
"Gally, did any more of your kind come to this city? Any more...cyborgs?
Any more from wherever you came from?" Seconds of silence.
_____"Gally, you have to talk to me. Something happened, and I need all the
information I can get. If so, are they monsters?"
_____"I... I... I cannot answer. But please, perhaps we should move to
investigate the current event," she said, changing the subject. "Not all
cyborgs are monstrosities."
_____Giving a shrug, Murphy looked ahead. There was a small part of the mob
leading the way, going along the street. He began to slowly follow that group.
They took a left turn up at the next intersection, and he turned the car that
way as well.
_____Gally's eyes were unfocused, her thoughts looking more inward. It was
true that she liked killing. Killing people. Breaking and mutilating living
people. Bringing them death. Killing deeply thrilled her in a way that
nothing else did! But she also cared about some people, she really did. She
had friends. She even had a sort of adopted father in Scrap Iron City.
_____She blinked when she had a glimpse of HIM in the crowd ahead. HIM, the
Kindly Old Man! He was among the tatter-clad people of the mob, a clean-clothed
and thin old man with gray hair. And she was sure she saw him skipping along,
as if amused...
_____But it was just a glimpse. It could have been anyone. She did not see
the Kindly Old Man in the mob anymore. What could a dapperly dressed, skinny
old man be doing among the mob--especially in this heat?
---
_____They soon arrived at the scene... The scene of death. And the crowd
stayed back as so those two in the police cruiser could see it all. Could see
the death.
_____Indeed, the dead were everywhere here. On the sidewalks, the dead lay
fallen and just beginning to rot in the heat. Death was propped against some
buildings as well, dead bodies slumped there. Death was on the asphalt of the
street itself--mutilated bodies that no longer even looked human.
_____There would have been flies, but toxicity and pollution had killed them off
decades ago. But, the toxicity in the air and water hadn't killed off the
bacteria. The bacteria, that made the bodies begin to bloat and rot so quickly
in the warm humid city air.
_____"Such is life..." said Gally. "And, such is death. Pain and slaughter.
The flesh is weak, indeed." She clenched her metal hands, looked at the Metro
Cop. "Officer Murphy, do not falter. Be stronger than your flesh."
_____Indeed, Officer Murphy was coming quite close to tossing up vomit. He
had to stop the car before he ran over a few stray torsos. And he re-activated
the two-way radio link--which was still on standby mode. "This is...Murphy.
Mass homicide in the Fringes! I repeat, mass homicide in the Fringes.
Requesting backup and investigation."
...
Dark Bounty Hunter
...
_____It was two hours before morning, and Gally seemed sleepy. She was still
in the theater-sized main room, at the 1st Precinct--seated before Murphy's
desk. The cyborg-girl's large eyes went half-lidded, sometimes closing.
_____Chief Thunderhorse was way over at the far northern exit of the room. He
saw Gally come close to falling asleep several times. Almost falling asleep,
as she waited for Officer Murphy to return to the desk.
_____But the police chief knew that there was more to Gally than just a pretty
face and a gentle manner. She looked small and pretty, yet was dangerously
sleek--her athletic form emphasized by the form-fitting black bodysuit she
wore. Small, pretty, and dangerous...
_____But that was not too unusual these days. In cities, children tend to
mature quickly, mentally and physically. They must, because childhood was no
longer a time of prolonged innocence... Hardened children of the city. But
Gally looked hardened in the extreme.
_____Where was Murphy? Officer Murphy was elsewhere in the station, completing
some extra paperwork. He was trying to get around various city regulations to
register Gally as "private detective" or something--because there was no place
in the regulations for the profession of "bounty hunter," exactly...
_____Still over at Murphy's desk, Gally still tried to keep awake and alert.
She wondered why she felt so lethargic; the petite cyborg estimated that she
was only awake for seventeen hours. As only her brain needed rest, she needed
but a few hours of sleep per night.
_____Or maybe, the process by which she came to this odd and nameless city had
altered her sense of time, and she was actually awake longer. Another
possibility was that the process had exhausted her brain. A third could be
that her brain needed food, glucose. Another possibility could.... She came
to that thought, then her large, dark eyes closed.
...
_____The next thing Gally knew, she was standing in a decrepit and bare room,
poorly lit. In the gloom, she could see that the gray paint on the walls was
peeling--revealing concrete beneath the paint. The ceiling of this room seemed
to be painted black, the paint on the ceiling also peeling. And the floor was
made of wooden planks. Wooden, like the door to the left.
_____Hmm... Wood. There was something about the wood of the door, something
she could not quite understand at the moment....
_____There was a HOWLING of wind, and someone came into the room. Gally did
not know how the person came into the room, because she did not see the
wooden door open at all. The person, a very thin old man, was wearing slacks
and buttoned white shirt with suspenders. It was the Kindly Old Man, the one
Gally met in the vacant lot when she came to the city. Was she still in the
city, or in some other place?
_____"Hah-h-h..." wheezed the Kindly Old Man. "Look OUT, kid! Look to the
left and right, because something is happening. Something, indeed! Hah-h-h...
Hah-h-h-h..."
_____Gibberish! The Kindly Old Man was speaking in gibberish. Gally tried
to understand what that Kindly Old Man was talking about. Something is
happening? WHAT was happening? But she could not ask him what he meant; she
could not speak.
______And he began to dance an odd, skipping dance in this dimly lit room.
The material of his pressed slacks and white shirt swished and rippled as he
swirled and hopped. His shoes clicked and clacked as he traipsed about. The
Kindly Old Man wheezed as if coming close to death, but he never stopped
dancing. Oh, how that Kindly Old Man danced!
_____The Kindly Old Man wheezed and hopped once more, then he skipped right on
over to the wooden door. His right hand on the doorknob, he opened it. And
beyond the open door was absolute darkness. A darkness deeper than the
universe. Gally wanted to scream!
...
_____Her eyes snapped open. That was a dream, just a dream! There was no
dancing, wheezing "Kindly Old Man" here. And she was not in an old room with
gray peeling paint, with a wooden plank floor. She now actually sitting in a
swivel chair--a chair in a closed office. And the floor was marble floor.
Before her was an expensive-looking, heavy wooden desk.
_____It was quite an office here, in fact--private and well-furnished: a change
from the large and impersonal main room of this police station. The walls here
were polished and wood-paneled. And everything was well-lit.
_____There were portraits on the walls--historical pictures of past police
officers hung high up. They were pictures of how police officers dressed in
the old days.
_____Gally knew history. She knew that, somehow, this city kept alive the
tradition of the "police"--public professionals who maintained law and safety
for the public good. And, the pictures on the walls showed that tradition.
The police in the pictures were men and women in uniforms, standing proud,
looking out from the photographs. One of the photographs had a red-and-white
striped flag, one with stars in a corner.
_____Looking at the police in the photographs, Gally saw goodness and honesty.
She somewhat wished that Scrap Iron City had good people like that to keep
everyone safe when they slept...
_____"The old days are gone," said someone behind Gally. Startled, she suddenly
snapped up from her seat and turned around. It was Police Chief Thunderhorse.
_____The dapperly dressed, tan-skinned police chief was standing next to the
open door, a brown paper bag in his right hand. "And the old days will
probably never return again," he added. "Sit down and relax."
_____Gally sat down. And her large dark eyes followed Chief Thunderhorse
as he moved over to his desk here and he himself sat down. He raised the brown
paper bag. "I brought along a little something for your breakfast. At least,
something I believe you metal-bodied beings can eat. And please sit down. Be
at ease. It is 0630. You have a new day ahead."
_____Gally sat down. "I slept here, through the night?" she asked. "It was
not my intention to occupy your station as a place of rest. I could have slept
well on..."
_____"...On the streets?" interrupted Chief Thunderhorse. "Or in an alley,
next to a dumpster?" He pushed the paper bag across the desktop, to Gally.
She stared at the police chief before taking the bag.
_____"Little girl, if you would have slept in the streets, without knowing
places are safest, you could have been taken to a body bank or some black-
market tech market--never to wake up alive." He shook his head. "You are new
to this city, and do not know where it is safe." He gestured toward Gally.
"Now, please do eat."
_____Opening the paper bag, Gally saw six plastic-wrapped bars of various types.
Some were chocolate. Others were labeled as being "high in carbohydrates" and
"zero waste."
_____"Those are zero-waste food bars, made by the Zik Zak corporation," said
Chief Thunderhorse. "Eat those, and you'd get eight hours of energy and
nutrition... Better yet, the food bars are treated with complicated catalysts
as so they are completely digested. You don't have to use the toilet after
eating them. They are somewhat expensive to those who earn average wages,
but popular among network executives." He smiled. "I never really met a
metal-bodied little girl before, or any sort of cyborg, so I did not know what
else to buy you. I did not know if you can defecate normally. At least with
those bars, you need not worry about that."
_____"I thank you..." said Gally. Her metal fingers dipped into the bag, went
for one of the food bars first. She unwrapped it, bit into it. Very tasty.
It tasted slightly like cinnamon-flavored granola.
_____"Good, at least you eat like a human being," said Chief Thunderhorse.
"Some around here thought that you had to be plugged in or had to be gassed up
like a car. I thought otherwise..." He leaned back in his comfortable seat.
"Care to hear about today's business now, or later?"
_____Finishing the food bar without any stains on her cheeks or lips, Gally
answered. "Yes, I would like to hear it now. That, as so I may think ahead.
Whatever there is planned, I would like to continue pursuing my target while
I remain in this city."
_____"Do not worry," answered the police chief, sitting up and moving his
comfortable seat closer to the wooden desk. "What I have planned should help
you find whomever you seek. How so? Because, today's activities will increase
your familiarity with this city."
_____Midway through another food bar, Gally swallowed. Said, "You are correct.
What, by the way, is the name of this...city? No one has said its name, and I
saw no logos or titles..."
_____Thunderhorse shrugged. "That is of no matter. But now, to the point.
Today, I would like for you to go on patrol with a detachment of Metro Officers.
Do so, and I will reward you with more credits. Also, going on patrol may
give you clues--information--on the whereabouts of your target. I cannot issue
you a firearm, a gun, but you are permitted to use deadly force in assistance of
Metro Cop policing. Do you agree to helping patrol?"
_____Nearly done with her meal of food bars, Gally quickly thought over her
options. It was still true that she lacked familiarity with this city, a city
that was similar to--but still different from--Scrap Iron City. Being ignorant
of this city's ways, she could encounter some sort of danger that others of
this city knew--and not know how to deal with it.
_____She finished eating another food bar... "I agree to your offer, Police
Chief Thunderhorse. I agree, in order to gain more information. May I at
least see a map of this city?"
...
_____Elsewhere in the downtown core of this city, there were some buildings
that were taller--much taller than other structures. As the morning sun shone
down, these taller glassy skyscrapers glinted against the blue and cloud-mottled
sky high overhead. These skyscrapers were homes to television networks and
other technological-development industries.
_____One such towering skyscraper belonged to Network 66, one of the most
powerful computer software and entertainment networks in the city. It was
located near the west side of the city's downtown core area. At night, the
massive logo atop the building glows red against the dark city sky. But during
the day, the massive logo atop the building was dark, like now.
_____Like the other television networks, Network 66 had plenty of wealthy and
technology. In the skyscraper that was Network 66, professional men and women
in business suits--and sometimes lab coats--did the work to keep profits flowing.
Profits, at any ethical cost...
_____Network 66 was important now because this was where Dr. Nova had been able
to get a job--a high-ranking job, in fact. The lucky bastard, it wasn't every
day that Mr. Grossberg--CEO of Network 66--promoted anyone to the head of
"Research and Development" on the first day. Truth be told, Dr. Nova--that
gray-haired nutball of a scientist--was DAMNED lucky from the first day he
came to the city.
_____He had actually arrived a week ahead of Gally. That, though both this
metaphysicist and that petite cyborg were both present when the box was opened.
And, as far as Dr. Nova knew, Gally did not come here. So, he set to work in
establishing himself in this new city.
...
_____The story went like this, as far as Mr. Grossberg knew. The research
techies of Network 66 ran into Dr. Nova at a bar a week ago--at sunset. They
spoke to him, invited him in for drinks--though Nova preferred eating some kind
of foreign desert instead of getting drunk. From the first few seconds,
Dr. Nova told them technological that sounded decades, if not centuries, into
the future. Like, what he told about the rudiments of cyborg technology--and
how a wise corporation could use that technology to eliminate competition.
_____That, and he talked about technologies to manipulate aspects of reality
itself to one's liking. Mr. Grossberg's knowledge of science was limited, but
the techies in R&D said that everything Dr. Nova made too much sense to give
up. They later BEGGED to have Dr. Nova head up Network 66's R&D department--
though there never was a head of that department before...
...
_____Now, Dr. Nova was up on the 96th floor of this building, standing in
Mr. Grossberg's grandly furnished and grand-sized executive office--the grand
marble desk near the end of the room. Behind the marble desk were tall tinted
windows that gave a somewhat darkened view of the city--the morning light muted.
_____Mr. Grossberg himself was here. He was a business-suited, thirtyish-looking,
pale man with slicked-back brown hair and a blue-eyed stare... The sort of
blue-eyed stare that tended to glare coldly at times. Seated at his black
marble desk, he was a grand lord seated at his corporate throne.
_____Without a seat, Dr. Nova had to stand in front of the desk. But he did
not mind standing, especially since he had a nice big bowl of his favorite
desert. He was just spooning away, swallowing down plenty of that stuff.
For such an average-looking man, Dr. Nova could eat plenty.
_____But now, to business. Mr. Grossberg set his hands atop his desk. "Well,
Dr. Nova. I see that you have had quite a bit of that flan you like so much.
Let's get to the point."
_____But the labcoat-wearing madman seemed unaware of Mr. Grossberg. Dr. Nova
did not seem aware of anything at this moment, actually; he was too busy
eating flan.
_____His employees had their vices. Alcohol, cocaine, light neurostim, but...
Never before did he see anyone addicted to a desert food! A flan addict, of
all things, partaking of his addiction right in his office! Annoyed,
Mr. Grossberg SLAPPED the desk with both palms. "Didn't you just hear me?"
_____"Oh, I did! I did! Mmm, this is good flan! It lacks that slight undertaste
of somewhat toxic impurities as found in Scrap Iron City, but still...
DELICIOUS! Mmm, yes!"
_____Mr. Grossberg's patience was on a knife-sharp edge. "Dr. Nova! I did
NOT hire you to eat flan in my office. You have been in my employ for a week.
Almost half a million credits have gone straight into your new lab facilities
in this building, as well as plenty of cash for your new living quarters. What
do YOU have for ME now?"
_____"Ah-h-h...!" sighed the lab-coated madman. With some effort, he stopped
eating his flan. Cradling the bowl in his left arm, he began pacing. Pacing
left and right. What he really wanted to do was continue eating this tasty
flan, but...!
_____"To begin," he began, "I am grateful for the facilities you have provided.
Though I admit that my knowledge of cyborg technology is limited, and the
technological resources available here are moderate, my assistants and I have
made much progress! Yes, WONDERFUL progress." Pace, pace, pace...
_____He stopped pacing long enough to swallow two spoonfuls of flan. "Delicious
progress! Mmmm... Now, with the correct machinery set, we needed a test subject--
a fresh body, complete with brain. In fact, we needed several test subjects--
bodies and brains.
_____"I am quite pleased about the ease with which whole bodies can be purchased
in this city--from the so-called 'body banks.' That, and test subjects can be...
'borrowed' from the so-called Fringe area at the city limits--the slums. My
assistants used both of those resources.
_____"After several instances of trial-and-error, my assistants and I have used
the technology available to create several obedient cyborgs: human brains in
electromechanical bodies. The brains had to be modified a bit, but they were
relatively intact when the process was completed. Though the finished products
are not quite up to the standards of strength I had in mind, they seem
functional. Further testing is still required, however.
_____"That accomplished, I also continued research on my box. Though its
size and shape has not undergone any changes, its color slightly darkens at
random intervals. I have tried to open it again, but I cannot. As with the
last time I opened it? Well, let me say that the results were very, very
interesting. Delicious results, in fact. Mmmm, as tasty as--" SLAM-M-M!
_____Mr. Grossberg had slammed his fists against his desk, the sound echoing
throughout this grand office. "You can continue work on that box of yours
LATER. Now, about the cyborgs. You said that you have several of them
available. Excellent, an experimental technology brought to the fore in a
mere week. Now... When do I see them?"
...
_____Mr. Grossberg would see "them" right away. He and Dr. Nova left this
grand office, went down the long hall--towards the elevators. To the left and
right, flanking this hall, were the pistol-toting guards of Network 66 elite
security--their uniforms vaguely resembled janitorial clothing. Though human,
they may as well be robots; they were stiffly silent, even as Mr. Grossberg
himself walked past.
_____Since the R&D floors were just a few floors from the top of this skyscraper,
the elevator ride was short. No need for chatter between Grossberg and Nova.
The elevator doors opened, and Mr. Grossberg was quickly impressed with what
he saw.
_____This area was changed, different from before. He had occasionally taken
visits to the R&D floors before, just seeing long rows of computer workstations
and pale skinny people in lab coats working away. They did their job, and he
let them. But now...
_____Oh, NOW! Now, this entire floor had been changed into one large room--
radically altered to fit Dr. Nova's cyborg development program. This wide
room now had white marble and white walls, a white room softly lit by slightly
filtered fluorescent lighting. Scientists working here... The computers were
now along the right side, against the wall. And two tables were set up in the
middle. At the far left wall were what looked like raised metal caskets,
though caskets did not have so many wires and pipes connected to them. The
professionals in casual clothing and lab coats worked both sides of the room,
at the computers on the right and at the casket-like equipment at the left.
_____Mr. Grossberg walked towards the left side of the room, his hard-polished
shoes making clacking sounds as he walked. Technicians over at that side of
the room glanced up occasionally, then paused in their work as the important
man in the business suit approached. They stood stock-still, like small animals
being approached by a large, hungry coyote.
_____Then, this wide room was quiet save for the sounds of typing on the far
right side, along with the slight hum of electromechanical machinery. Everyone
anticipated what Mr. Grossberg had to say.
_____"The good doctor said you had things to show me," said Mr. Grossberg.
"So where are the things? Show me the new toys."
_____One of the technicians, a balding nervous sort, stood up from kneeling
beside one of the tube-fed caskets. "Well, Mr. Grossberg, thanks to Dr. Nova's
extensive technological input," he began, "we have successfully turned four of
ten test subjects into cybernetically enhanced beings. We have taken biological
brains, altered them, and successfully integrated those bodies within
electromechanical bodies. However, we cannot be sure of their viability just
yet. We would like to test them... If that is fine with you, sir."
_____"Really?" went Mr. Grossberg. "Are you just saying that to placate me,
or will you actually show them to me? It all sounds impressive, but how does
the final product LOOK?"
_____The balding technician smiled and stood a little straighter. "Well, sir,
they look like this..." That technician then turned to two other people in
lab coats. "Let's power up Number Three, and open the hatch."
_____Those two technicians complied. They quickly walked to the other side of
the room, where the computer workstations were. Seconds later, things on this
side of the room began to happen.
_____There was a hiss as the airtight seal on one of the caskets shut off.
With a whirring sound of electric motors, the lid on that silvery casket raised
up on motorized hinges--opened. When the frosty mist cleared and the lid open,
something was visible.
_____It was something made of metal... The metal body was almost skeletally
thin, especially in the arms and legs--though the joints were thick. And the
hands were claw-like--sharp fingers, articulated with exposed machinery.
The head was a metal skull with a mask-like face--a face made of rubber.
Video lenses for eyes.
_____Dr. Nova stepped up to Mr. Grossberg's right side. The metaphysicist
somehow obtained a fresh bowl of flan from somewhere--probably from some kind
of dispenser. "Delicious! Well... Ahem! Mr. Grossberg, you may want to
stand back a bit."
_____"Hmm..." went Mr. Grossberg. He backed off a bit, taking a few steps
back. What did that flan-eating madman have in mind?
_____And he soon found out. "Number Three, get out of the storage unit and
stand up," ordered the doctor. The skeletal metal-man complied. He put his
skeletal metal hands on the edges of the casket. He next slowly swung his
left leg out, putting the left foot to the marble floor. The other leg followed,
and he stood--a blank look on his rubber face.
_____"Now, introduce yourself to Mr. Grossberg," said Dr. Nova. "If it were
not for his cash and my flan... AHEM! Sorry. If it were not for Mr. Grossberg's
cash, you would be dead--not that death is too much of an inconvenience given
what I could develop soon... Well, what are you waiting for? Speak up! Tell
the CEO who you are."
_____"I am NUMBER THREE. I am a PROTOTYPE," droned the skeletal metal-bodied
man, hands slightly swinging. "I will serve your purpose." A tinny, robotic
voice.
_____"My God," went Mr. Grossberg. "This thing is like a cross between a
zombie and a robot. It talks and can stand up, but what is it really good for?
Can it DO anything else?" He turned around. "I want to see it work. I want
to see how tough it is."
_____A few more spoonfuls of flan, and Dr. Nova nodded. "Mmm... Delicious!
We can do that, just for you." Addressing the prototype cyborg, he said,
"Number Three, approach the test area."
_____Going slowly, the metal-bodied man clomped ponderously across the floor.
He stopped in a yellow-and-white striped rectangular area on the floor. Machinery
whirred in the floor, and then he was boxed in by a circular glass barrier
that slid up from the floor.
_____"We use this to test kinetic tolerances," said Dr. Nova, bowl of flan in
his left hand. He spooned a bit more. "Mmm...! Okay, start with some small
arms fire! Nine millimeter, single shots!"
_____Someone over at the right side of the room nodded, then tapped a few keys
on a computer keyboard. Over here, something like a video camera slid down
into the glass case, but it had a gun barrel in place of a cameral lens.
_____CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The gun popped out a few shots at the solid chest
of the prototype cyborg in the glass case. But there was no damage, just
little sparks as the bullets ricocheted off of the titanium. The prototype
cyborg's rubber face was still stoic.
_____Dr. Nova swallowed a bit more flan. "Delicious! Now, we will go for the
strength test! Drop in a test animal. One stronger than human."
_____A few more keystrokes at the other side of the room, and the ceiling-
mounted gun in the case withdrew. The ceiling over the annealed glass case
opened up wider, and a hairy, muscular gorilla dropped in.
_____The squat, strong animal looked around, snarled. It saw the cyborg, and
STRUCK the metal being in the chest. Had the intended victim been human, the
chest would have been caved in.
_____The prototype cyborg staggered, but still stood. No damage! THUMP!
The gorilla tried again! THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! It tried pounding the cyborg a
few more times. But that did not work; the gorilla only bloodied its limbs
in pounding the cyborg. Snarling, fangs bared, the gorilla pounced... But
that was a deadly mistake.
_____All that the prototype cyborg did was raise its hands to chest level,
fingers out. Silvery fingers gripped into the gorilla's meaty shoulders--
skewering the living meat. The large animal howled and snarled, began to
shake. Blood splurted from wounds and onto the floor inside the sealed area--
some splurting against the case. And the gorilla whooped some more in pain.
_____"My goodness..." said Mr. Grossberg. He expected the skinny cyborg to
be crumpled like aluminum foil. But the gorilla was the thing that crumpled.
"Number Three, kill it. It's making too much noise and blood."
_____Inside the case, Number Three heard the command from Mr. Grossberg. There
was so much blood spread out inside the case that what the cyborg did next
wasn't visible. All that Mr. Grossberg saw was that the cyborg did something
very quick and very violent, making for an awful RIPPING sound of meat being
torn--living meat. The gorilla only whooped once more when it died.
_____Dr. Nova chewed his flan... "Flame test!" he shouted. "Alcohol flame.
This will clean the cyborg and the test area."
_____There was a FWOOSH of bluish flame in the annealed glass case, from the
floor. Had the flame gone from the ceiling downward, there would have been
danger to the prototype cyborg: a top-down flame would have heated the brain.
Instead, the rush of high-pressure alcohol flame just incinerated flesh and
blood inside the case, flaring against the cyborg's skeletal metal feet.
_____When the flaming stopped, the gorilla's remains were skeletal--a skeleton
surrounded by dark powder that had once been flesh and blood. Standing above
it was the cyborg, standing and slightly swaying. Its rubber face wilted and
drooped because of the heat, but it did not seem to care.
_____"I like what I see," said Mr. Grossberg. "A few more of these could be
quite helpful to some of my plans for network competition. And you said that
you're only limited by today's technology?"
_____Eating up a bit more flan, Dr. Nova answered. "If the manufacturing
capabilities of this city's resources were much more refined, I could continue
work on my true specialty, that of nanotechnology. THAT, my friend, would
most certainly have lead to a whole different story! But... Mmmm! Delicious!
This is VERY good flan, indeed!" And he walked away to get some more.
---
_____Back elsewhere in the city, back at the 1st Precinct, Gally and Officer
Murphy were being briefed. Murphy wore his bulky black kevlar padding, his
helmet on his desk. Gally was dressed as usual in black sleeveless bodysuit--
which was rinsed and polished. In fact, Gally herself had been rinsed and
cleaned in a shower--despite officers worrying about her becoming rusty or
something. She looked fresh and new. Both the petite cyborg and kevlar-clad
officer stood behind a desk in the main room, Murphy's desk.
_____Detective Walthers had already gone to the desks of other officers, giving
them their instructions before sending them out. He was now here at this desk.
_____"Essentially, you two are patrolling the middle northern sector of the
Fringes. It's Sector N-3," he said. Murphy and Gally nodded.
_____"It's a typical patrol," continued the detective. "Just go your route,
looking for any outbreaks of overt violence or trouble. As we know, plenty of
things happen there that go against the laws. But unless its an outright
disturbance to the peace, try not to interfere.
_____"As it is, all the poor bastards in the Fringes are spooked up about ghosts
and aliens now. Rumors about some kind of old man in suspenders and slacks,
talking crazy stuff. First Max Headroom takes over our televisions at random,
now we've got rumors of spooks. Just great.
_____"Anyway, N-3 is an easy patrol," finished the detective. "Good for beginners
like Gally here. Any questions, you two?"
_____At this point, a Metro Cop in kevlar armor and black helmet came jogging
up. He was in a hurry to talk to Detective Walthers. "What's up, Trace?"
asked the detective.
_____"It's fuckin' Headroom...! Pardon my French," said the newly arrived
Metro Cop, his voice muffled by his helmet. "He wants to talk to the cyborg-
girl. And the guy won't freakin' go away until he does!"
_____"God-damnit..." muttered the detective. "Okay, let me guess. He's in
the monitor room, right? Hogging up security data feeds?"
_____"No, he's bein' a real asshole this time! Takin' up the tv in Waiting
Room #2," answered Officer Trace. "And we can't freakin' unplug the tv without
breakin' the regulations. Unless... Heh, heh... Unless ya wanna look the
other way while I bend a few rules. Ya know?"
_____"No, no, no..." answered Walthers. "Gally, Murphy...let's go talk to Max
Headroom. He's probably going to crack jokes about my tie again. The bastard
always does." A gesture from Walthers, and the two followed him out of the
main room.
---
_____Down the hall, near the ground-floor entrance, there were two small
waiting rooms: Waiting Room #1 and Waiting Room #2. Both of them were the
same--small and functional. Both were on opposite sides of the hall. These
two rooms were where citizens could walk in and make complaints to whatever
desk sergeant was on duty.
_____Left of the hall was Waiting Room #2--just like Waiting Room #1. In it
was simple furniture. Two long benches at the sides, with a glassed-in reception
window built into one wall. A television was suspended from the ceiling.
_____Gally, Murphy, and Detective Walthers walked in and looked up at the
television just above standing height. Indeed, the blonde-haired computer-
generated commentator was on the television, diagonal line patterns running
in the background.
_____"H-h-hello, you all!" said the man in the television. "Hi to you, metal
girl! G-g-gosh, it's been SO-O-O long since we last met!" He sniffed a sad
sniff. "I miss you!"
_____Looking at the man in the television, Gally shook her head once. "It has
been a mere nine hours. Can a person count that as being 'a long time'?" she
asked.
_____"S-s-sorry..." said the man in the television, his voice still with that
stutter-glitching. "Nobody's-nobody's-nobody's perfect, except me sometimes.
Well, I'm not as perfect as perfect can be, but I'm close." He grinned.
"B-b-but there's someone you have to MEET today. That is, someone else besides
ME. By the way, nice necktie, Detective Walthers. Which t-t-trash can did
you dig it out of?"
_____"Aw, Hell! I knew he'd pick on it!" grunted Walthers, crossing his white-
sleeved arms as so he covered some of his tie. "Cut to the point, Headroom.
Why are you really here?"
_____"What do I w-w-want? You mean, besides you changing your taste in
neckties?" answered Headroom. "Okay-okay-OKAY, I said all that I wanted to
say. Again... Gally, just be ready to meet a VERY good friend of mine. In
fact, he's S-S-SUCH a good friend that he and I are almost the same person.
Now, I must say, 'A BIENTOT, MA CHERE!'" He puckered a kiss to Gally, then
vanished from the television. Now, there was a commercial for oatmeal playing
on the screen.
_____Detective Walthers shrugged. "In that case, I want you two to patrol
another part of the Fringes altogether. I still don't trust that computer-
generated guy."
_____"Why does Max annoy you so?" asked Gally. "Though he seems less than
serious, his intentions just may be helpful. And he helps without request for
rewards, not even monetary reward."
_____"Hah, imagine that. Money, for Max Headroom," commented Murphy. "What
would Headroom do with a credit rod? What would he buy, some kind of virtual
mansion?" He looked to Detective Walthers. "Anyway, what's our new
assignment?"
_____"You may as well go back to where first Gally appeared in town," answered
Walthers. "The western-most sector. Particularly, patrol the area that's
just a block from downtown. Now let's get you to your car."
...
_____By an absolutely brutal coincidence, something was happening in that area
of the Fringes at that very moment--the sector that Walthers reassigned Gally
and Murphy to. It was a brutal and absolutely frightening event, in fact.
_____But the event was only a "test." That, though the "test" made for the
loss of a dozen lives among the impoverished and semi-employed derelicts who
populated these slums. This was going to be a test of experimental technology
being misused.
_____The time was now 1036, morning, and the people of this part of the Fringes
did what they normally did when not working. They sat around outside the
ill-maintained buildings, drinking and talking, smoking and relaxing. About
half of this area's people were away--working in some dangerous and low-pay
industrial building. But the people who were left around here for now were
deemed too low-skilled and unhealthy to work.
_____With the warm sun going higher in the sky, things seemed slow and tired.
It was hot, but the people here were used to the heat--to an extent. Anyone
who wasn't just died anyway, their rag-clad bodies snatched away and sold for
cash--their meager possessions also stolen.
_____A van pulled up along one of these hot-and-tired streets. Some lazy eyes
glanced warily at the van, half-caring about who drove it. If that van stayed
here for too long, it was probably going to be stolen and stripped by some of
the local opportunists.
_____The rear doors opened, and frosty misted air gushed out. Then out came
seven metal-bodied monsters. Skinny and skeletally thin metal bodies, their
faces made out of rubber.
_____That is too fucking weird! People at the sidewalks and on front porches
could not believe what they were seeing! What the HELL were those things?
Was this some sort of Metro Cop stunt? And who was... Oh shit!
_____Those metal freaks suddenly moved a lot faster! One of them stumbled and
fell without getting up; it malfunctioned. But the other six spread out and
RAN at the bystanders here at the sidewalks.
_____One of the metal monsters ran at a poor guy leaning against a red-brick
building. He dropped his cheap bottle of gin-and-cleaning fluid when the
metal freak picked him up by the neck--sharp fingers sinking in. Red liquid
jetted from a pierced jugular vein. His blood mixed with the spilled drink
on the sidewalk.
_____"No-o-o...!" squealed a group of kids as they tried to get away. But
two of the metal freaks were more than enough to snatch them up and tear them
apart. Blood and shredded flesh mixed with tattered clothing as the children
were physically destroyed, their screams dying in the warm air and echoing
among the buildings.
_____Someone sleeping in an abandoned car was quickly awakened when one of the
doors was snatched open. He just had a glimpse at the metal freak as it tore
out some intestines and stomach. The sleepy derelict then realized that those
were HIS insides being torn out, and then he died.
_____And the prototype cyborgs continued rushing about the streets--tearing up
men, women and children. Panic spread. People within three city blocks from
the scene saw bleeding, injured people running away from SOMETHING. At least,
those who got away managed to do so with most of their limbs intact. They were
screaming, waiving their arms, and being extremely loud. Some of them even
dropped dead from just terror--which strained their drug-scarred hearts. It
was becoming a quick and violent mess on that street, caused by just six of
those THINGS.
_____Within just thirteen minutes, it was over. The six prototype cyborgs,
painted red with blood, walked back to the waiting van. When those got in,
two people in biohazard suits got out from the front and lifted up the cyborg
that stumbled and malfunctioned; they put it in the back of the van along with
the others. And they closed the door.
_____The van motored away, driving along the street. As it did, the thermo-
reactive paint on its sides changed colors. And the license plates flipped
over, changing. A big phony antenna extended on the top. In short, it changed
to look like a different van. Going back to downtown...
_____What it left behind was a scene much different from when it came. Bodies.
Bodies, torn and mutilated, were all along this street. They looked like meat
tossed onto sidewalks and on front stoops, lying in the street and near gutters.
Many of them were ripped open. Faces showed looks of bloody horror. The
breeze blew through the abandoned street, blowing between the buildings and
over the dead.
---
_____Gally was in a police cruiser with Officer Murphy, with Murphy driving.
The police cruiser was a contrast. It was a fully bright day, but the dark
vehicle was like a polished shadow cruising through the streets, the white
MC logo on its sides. A respected and feared presence, the vehicle meant that
there were Metro Cops on the way; everyone best behave.
_____This four-wheeled vehicle of Metro Cop authority passed from the urban
downtown city-scape and into the slums at the outer edges of the city--the
Fringes. And, the vehicle should have carried Metro Cop authority with it.
People in the Fringes normally kept their respect and their distance when the
Metro Cops came...
_____But this was not a normal situation.... THUMP! Gally flinched, her large
dark eyes looking at the car window on her side. Someone had thrown a small
dead animal at the window. Something like a rat, but larger.
_____THUMP! THUMP-THUMP! "What the Hell?" exclaimed Murphy as he gripped
the steering wheel. THUMP! THUMP, THUMP! "They're throwing possums and
trash at us. Gally, this is known as a 'civil disturbance.'"
_____"Trash and...possums?" asked Gally. "Why throw such animals? What has
come to pass in this city that cause the citizens to throw possums?"
_____"Evolution happened. Survival to the fittest. Damned possums ate all
the rats years ago," said Murphy. "Now I wish they hadn't... At least rats
wouldn't have made so much damned noise. What's going on here?"
_____As Officer Murphy slowed the vehicle, Gally saw more people of the Fringes.
She saw them angry. They were the angry, ragged masses in more- or less-rough
looking clothes, rough looks on their faces as they stood on the sidewalks.
They were shouting now, shaking their fists and threatening to become violent.
They seemed not far from changing their tactics--from throwing small dead
rodents to throwing punches and bricks.
_____But the people were not stupid. On more than one occasion, Metro Cops had
"suppressed" angry masses with lethal force. The Metro Cops were much better
armed than the people of the Fringes. And the people of the Fringes did not
really want more violence today. Not yet, at least.
_____Left hand on the steering wheel, Officer Murphy reached down with his right
and clicked on the two-way radio. It was a two-way video-audio connection,
and a female dispatcher--sergeant-rank--appeared on the screen. "Officer Murphy,
what is your situation?" asked the dispatcher.
_____Gally looked at the small screen once, then went back to looking outside.
Worried about this situation. In Scrap Iron City, people were normally too
too tired or too hungry to be this violent. The people of Scrap Iron City
were generally more soft-natured, though some turned to extreme violence. But
this is not Scrap Iron City.
_____She listened to Officer Murphy communicate with the dispatcher over the
radio. "I'm partnered with the cyborg. We're en route to our assigned patrol
of the Fringes. But we now have a civil disturbance in progress," he said.
_____The dispatcher's tinny voice sounded through the speaker. "I have a
triangulated lock on your location. Do you request suppression? There are
multiple units available." Indeed, in a jiffy, there could be plenty of
Metro Cops on the scene--ready to shoot down people until things calmed down.
_____Ignoring the scene outside, Gally looked at Murphy. Would it come to
fighting the masses outside? In the darker part of her mind, she wondered
how many she could kill by hand before someone stopped her. And she actually
grinned...
_____Murphy saw the petite cyborg-girl grin, and he did not like it. There
was something feral about how she looked now, something dark and dangerous.
He saw her large eyes glinting with something he did not like at all. And
somehow, he kept this car going straight despite the cold feeling he had from
looking into those eyes.
_____"Officer Murphy?" interrupted the dispatcher's voice, cutting into Murphy's
thoughts. "What is your answer? Units are available."
_____"Negative on that," said Murphy, shaking his head and looking ahead again.
"I would like additional units for backup, but NOT for suppression. Please have
backup on standby only."
_____"Roger that," answered the dispatcher. And the Metro Cops logo appeared
on the small communications screen, with "standby" typed out at the bottom.
If Murphy needed backup, all that he needed to do was ask.
_____"Gally, speak to me," he said. "Speak... Don't look that way. What's
wrong with you?"
_____The petite cyborg blinked. Looked away. "I give apology. It is just
that I anticipated a physical conflict, fighting. Killing is my profession,
and it sometimes becomes more than that."
_____Murphy shrugged. "I suppose... But you just may have to kill someone
here and today. Just be ready." He then slowed the car, stopped it.
_____And the angry people along the sidewalks suddenly stopped their aggression.
When a Metro Cop stopped, he or she meant business... Murphy and Gally opened
their car doors, stepped out of the sleek black vehicle.
---
_____Standing outside, Murphy spoke to Gally. "Get ready," he said. Then
Gally leapt atop the vehicle roof, crouched there. The Metro Cop reached into
the vehicle to get a handheld loudspeaker--a bullhorn. With his free hand,
the kevlar-clad officer pointed to a man in smeared coveralls, standing on the
sidewalk along with several others. "YOU, tell me what this is all about!"
_____The man in coveralls shouted, "Bloke, I'll tell ye wha' happened! Me
friends done got SLAUGHTERED! Just sittin' about, they were! Then some
metal-bodied monsters were brought, and they butchered me mates! Wholesale
murder! And WHERE WERE the METRO COPS? YE GOOD-FOR-NOTHIN' BOBBIES!"
_____All around, the crowd shouted before Murphy shouted back--his voice
amplified by his bullhorn. "QUIET! If you want to be suppressed, I can do
that!"
_____Gally was eyeing the people of the crowd when she heard the phrase
"metal-bodied monsters." She promptly hopped down from the roof of the police
cruiser, crossed her hands and forearms behind her back. That way, less of
her arms stayed visible. Her head looked normal, and her bodysuit hid the rest
of her metal physique.
_____Her feelings for battle-lust turned to worry and shame. Particularly,
shame in being metal-bodied. As far as she knew, everyone else in this city
was fully human, and she was not. She was an outsider. An oddity. A monster.
_____"REPEAT that description?" asked Murphy through the bullhorn. "Did you
say MONSTERS? What do you mean?"
_____"I mean what I said, ye bobby!" responded the man in coveralls. "Don't
ye all agree? MONSTERS!" The crowd shouted their agreement. They shouted
about monsters! Monsters made of METAL!
_____"SHOW us!" answered Murphy. He then got into the police cruiser and put
the bullhorn away. "Gally, let's go!" he shouted above the clamor of the mob.
"We have to investigate."
---
_____Gally got into the vehicle with Murphy, closed the door. The phrase "metal-
bodied monsters" stayed with her. Metal-bodied monsters? Wide-eyed, sitting
in the shotgun seat, she stared at her metal hands and arms. By that description,
she was indeed one of the alleged monstrosities.
_____Her body was metal--hidden beneath her form-fitting bodysuit. Beneath
the synthetic flesh of her face and beneath her dark hair, her skull was metal
as well. A body of metal machinery shaped like a girl-woman. Perhaps, her
soul was no longer human, either... "What am I?" she asked in a small voice.
_____Clenching his jaw, Murphy had no immediate answer. But he asked something.
"Gally, did any more of your kind come to this city? Any more...cyborgs?
Any more from wherever you came from?" Seconds of silence.
_____"Gally, you have to talk to me. Something happened, and I need all the
information I can get. If so, are they monsters?"
_____"I... I... I cannot answer. But please, perhaps we should move to
investigate the current event," she said, changing the subject. "Not all
cyborgs are monstrosities."
_____Giving a shrug, Murphy looked ahead. There was a small part of the mob
leading the way, going along the street. He began to slowly follow that group.
They took a left turn up at the next intersection, and he turned the car that
way as well.
_____Gally's eyes were unfocused, her thoughts looking more inward. It was
true that she liked killing. Killing people. Breaking and mutilating living
people. Bringing them death. Killing deeply thrilled her in a way that
nothing else did! But she also cared about some people, she really did. She
had friends. She even had a sort of adopted father in Scrap Iron City.
_____She blinked when she had a glimpse of HIM in the crowd ahead. HIM, the
Kindly Old Man! He was among the tatter-clad people of the mob, a clean-clothed
and thin old man with gray hair. And she was sure she saw him skipping along,
as if amused...
_____But it was just a glimpse. It could have been anyone. She did not see
the Kindly Old Man in the mob anymore. What could a dapperly dressed, skinny
old man be doing among the mob--especially in this heat?
---
_____They soon arrived at the scene... The scene of death. And the crowd
stayed back as so those two in the police cruiser could see it all. Could see
the death.
_____Indeed, the dead were everywhere here. On the sidewalks, the dead lay
fallen and just beginning to rot in the heat. Death was propped against some
buildings as well, dead bodies slumped there. Death was on the asphalt of the
street itself--mutilated bodies that no longer even looked human.
_____There would have been flies, but toxicity and pollution had killed them off
decades ago. But, the toxicity in the air and water hadn't killed off the
bacteria. The bacteria, that made the bodies begin to bloat and rot so quickly
in the warm humid city air.
_____"Such is life..." said Gally. "And, such is death. Pain and slaughter.
The flesh is weak, indeed." She clenched her metal hands, looked at the Metro
Cop. "Officer Murphy, do not falter. Be stronger than your flesh."
_____Indeed, Officer Murphy was coming quite close to tossing up vomit. He
had to stop the car before he ran over a few stray torsos. And he re-activated
the two-way radio link--which was still on standby mode. "This is...Murphy.
Mass homicide in the Fringes! I repeat, mass homicide in the Fringes.
Requesting backup and investigation."