Chapter 5, Part 5

hannah

What.

The.

HELL.

I started the engine in Jacobson’s car, completely confused what was going on and pissed off in ways I didn’t know I could be.

And then the car shook and there was smoke everywhere

And I started driving, driving

To anywhere. Just away.

Away.

I ran. Away. Like a coward.

I left him. He reminded me of my father. And I left him.

I left him and I went out to the highway driving his car

Oh my god what the fuck why

why

———————————

bleakly

Well, I thought, I am going to change my clothes.

And I’m not gonna wear a hat today.

I know what you’re thinking, and shut the hell up.

Have you shut up yet?

NO, STOP DOING THAT. Don’t. You. Fucking. Judge me.

Because, guess what? I had been tortured, beaten, nearly killed, jumped thirteen goddamn stories, had some kind of psychoclones chasing me and I had done it all without making a penny.

So yeah, fuck you. Seriously. She was a pretty girl, yeah? For a robot, I mean.

But she would keep.

And besides, I consider any case that isn’t profoundly traumatizing in some way an utter failure.

And without creative definitions of success where would we be right now?

That’s right, motherfuckers. Vietnam.

So, I didn’t ever say I was the good guy in this story. I’m just kind of an anarchist. And City? CORNELIUS City? He is a fucking scary man.

Even so, those questions kept popping up in my subconscious. Avoiding your own style. To what end? New identity, new life? Nope, just scaring myself for a little bit to make sure I haven’t changed. There’s a very solid classical philosophical underpinning to all this but I don’t feel like going into it.

You’re bored, I can tell. So let’s talk about when I walked into my office.

I opened the door and my buddy Otto was sitting on the desk.

My buddy Otto was a cop. He was chubby and had a face that told the tale of how goodnatured he really was; he had this really low, mellow monotone, like an old staticky tape that gets offended when you don’t listen. “Hey, Bleak.”

I scowled at him with my darkest scowl. “God DAMMIT- no. It is time for drinking.”

“You and what money?”

I growled at him and put all my remaining energy into a right hook that went through his right cheekbone.

He cleared his throat politely. “First, assaulting an officer of the System is a felony punishable by blah blah blah, and second, I’m a hologram.” He certainly was. He was a top-of-the-bottom-line autocop, mindscanned in who knows how many years back when we actually had public law enforcement.

I was not hung over, but I would have felt much better if I was. “Just shut the hell up and gimme the job.”