This will hopefully cascade into an ongoing series for me. The basic premise is that the story unfolds in a near future where the right has been able to control the political agenda for the past several decades. So in addition to playing with the fun SciFi gadgets and how they affect society I get to play with how bad things could get for society if things don't change in November.
Past Scenes
...Necessary to the security of a free state - Scene 1
The ride in was something he could have done without. His Medipack hadn't been filled in months, he'd been popping his pills via to old oral method, when he could get them. Booze however, that was a good deal cheaper than Ibuprophen. He just hadn't had his usual two shots yet this morning.
He hadn't been up past the crater for months now. The cruiser bumped along over crappy old '35 as it came up on the left. Connie didn't look at it much. It had become part of the background. They were coming up on the 10-year anniversary this fall. He supposed it would be all over the newsblogs as they got closer, maybe even the HD, but he was skeptical about that. He probably shouldn't be, there had been two movies about it already in the last two years. The memory was diminishing enough for people to have to have actors remind them about it.
"Hey, you think we can stop at a 7/11 on the way in? I didn't even get any coffee," he asked from the back seat. They hit a particularly deep pothole. The kid handled the minefield of disrepaired road like a pro, but he paid no mind to Connie, the car's AI was listening, but the kid was blissfully alone behind the soundproof separation into the main cab. He didn't want coffee anyway, he wanted to stop for a shot of something hard, something to take the edge off the little guy in his head that was going bonkers with the mallet.
What passed for the station these days was actually an improvement from when he'd worked for the force. Just a nondescript old mid-scraper, all glass and steel, maybe twelve stories. The previous police chief had moved them out here from downtown. It was more of a demilitarized zone now. The cops had given up on it after the winter of '24.
"Detective Hastings is in..." The kid started as he opened the door for Connie.
"I know where Pete's office is," he said. He hauled himself out of the cruiser and walked into the lobby. The id scanners read the rfid's in his implants as he walked through the door, and a light blinked on the guard's console.
"I'm afraid you'll have to..." The old black woman started to say, approaching him with a metal detecting wand and her hand on her service pistol.
"I'm cleared," Connie said protesting. Wasn't his concealed carry permit up to date? It's not like he had to renew it.
"Please remove any weapons you may have and place them in the tray." The old woman said. She was ready to draw on him. How odd. He raised his hands, then pulled up his jacked so that she could see his pistol. She put the wand down, and pulled the pistol from his waistband.
"Oh, my," she said. She held the pistol with her thumb and forefinger, as if it might attack her. "I haven't seen one of these for..."
"Yeah. You need me to clear it?" Connie asked helpfully. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with any of this crap today, especially not here.
"No, I think we'll just store it like this," she said, setting it down in the tray.
"Yeah, fine," Connie said annoyed. He didn't like being without a piece, not even in here. No cops on the street meant you needed to look out for yourself. So, he didn't have a gun that could be shut off with those SmartGun inhibitors, it had never been an issue before.
He walked to the elevators rubbing his forehead. His stomach was calming down from the ride in, but his head still thumbed along like a 3am rave. He thumbed the call button and the doors opened. Must have been expecting him. The elevator took off without being told what to do. It knew he had business on the 5th floor.
"What do you want Pete?" he asked, as he walked through Hasting's door. The smaller, fatter man was sitting behind his deskscreen scrolling through some photos on his desk. Connie could feel his blood boil a bit as he looked over Pete's disgusting workspace. Bottles of half drank Mountain Dew, bagels, flimseys cluttered the deskscreen. This should have been Connie's job, he should be the one pulling the nice fat pension and medical benefits. Instead this fat fuck that married into the political structure of the city got it.
"Hey, nice of you to drop in Constance," Pete said, relishing the use of Connie's surname. "We've got one that has your name written all over it."
"What the fuck do I care?" Connie asked bluntly.
"Come on Connie, you haven't worked in months. Your medical's run out, unemployment, what are you gonna do go sell SmartGuns at Walmart?"
"I just might," Connie said. "American dream isn't it? Work for a big company, qualify for Walcare?"
"Bullshit. You want back in, it's in your blood."
"My blood is in it you mean." Connie said. He still had the scars to prove it. No cosmetic surgery to get rid of those on a cop contractor's salary. There hadn't been even when he'd worked for Blackwater. Well, there had been but his ex-wife had made sure he hadn't had enough after the divorce.
"It's not even a homicide, come on Connie."
"Not even for the chance to make you look bad Pete." Connie said.
"How about for me?" a voice asked from behind him. Connie turned to see Lt. Lou Enqvist standing in Pete's door. Enqvist was someone that Connie respected. He'd been where Connie was, and had come up through the ranks of the department through hard work, and standing behind his principals. Having worked on contract for the FBI with good reviews hadn't hurt either.
"Hey Lou," Connie said, his tone softening. Shit, he really didn't want to do this job, but he owed Lou.
"Have a look at it will you? Say a week?" the older man asked.
"I get medical?" Connie asked.
"No," Lou said, "But it's your normal rate." six hundred an hour without benefits didn't sound like much these days. Lou must have read his expression, "Hey, just take a look for me, if you're interested and it looks like things will play out a bit longer we can see about medical."
"Yeah, all right, but I'm working for you Lou, not Nepotist Bonaparte here," he said, jerking his thumb at Pete.
"No, I don't suppose so," Lou said, "Go find Foster, you can work with her."
"Foster?" Connie asked. The name didn't ring any bells.
"Yeah, she started after you were... gone. You should like her, she worked for the DNI too." Connie wanted to protest, but Lou was already gone. He could feel Pete's satisfied smirk behind him. He flipped the detective off and walked out without ever turning back to see him.