- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Online Availability
- 16:00-20:00 US Central
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Cyberpunk, Sci-fi, Fantasy, and other low-tech/fantasy.
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T
he office floor, as was often the case, stood in an eerie silence. Every so often, the tapping of fingers upon a keyboard or the registration protocols of computer programs would break through, but for now the wide, open floor remained quiet. Automation had, for the most part, removed the need for the entirity of the floor being filled to the brim with desk workers and agents, and now only a handful of such workers remained alongside their artificial coworkers: hardly did these men and women interact with anyone or anything but their software, their hardware, and their underlings."Hudson has come to see you." Henton's AI spoke, the soft female voice possessing that electronic undertone that separated it from a living being. Though capable of displaying a limited personality, the AI units given to his department were rudimentary and restricted to their code. With a wave of his hand, Henton dismissed the the flashing blue wave lengths that embodied the AI's voice suspended in the thin sheet of glass that composed almost the entirity of his computer. With another series of hand gestures, he undid the electronic lock upon his office door and shut down the monitor.
The agent the AI had prompted, Hudson, arrived moments after the announcement. He was a pale, narrow figure with a hooked nose and a bald head that reflected the lights of Henton's overhead. Hudson's uniform was crisp and clean, the white cloth fitting tightly to his form with hardly a wrinkle or crease in sight. His boots were polished to an unhealthy, oily shine, and when he spoke, his voice reminded Henton of a less charismatic counterpart to his own Ai assistant.
"You know why I am here." He began, taking a seat across Henton's synthetic wood desk, folding his hands over the slick surface.
Henton slid his monitor into its slot upon the desk and readjusted himself so that his blue eyes met Hudson's own beady, black pupils. Clearing his throat, he spoke in his usual harsh, booming tone. "Your department is going to need a shade more than rumor until I commit any assets to the field. If I were to pander to every single potential threat to this government, we would have become a liability long ago. Unless you have more than you did a week ago, this conversation is over and I would like to thank you for such a gracious waste of my time."
"I assure you, sir, that we have narrowed down the potential suspects down to three locations. All I ask is that you authorize the necessary-"
"I don't give a damn about three potential suspects, narrow it down to one or you'll have to let this treason go untouched."
At this, Hudson stammered, his pupils dialating in anger, his nostrils flaring. "What do you stand to lose by authorizing three searches? Within a day, we will have our answer and-"
"We will have wasted time and resources on two potential suspects." Henton's temper stirred. "Hudson, look behind me. What do you see?"
The man glanced over Henton's shoulder, up to the overhead light, then back to Henton. "I see our capital city."
"No, you see the fruit of my department's labors, a fruit harvested by efficiency and absolute certainty that our path is the one towards justice. Even if your three searches were not a waste of department resources and time, think of the doubt we would sow by coming up two threats short. What image do we create? An agency that must resort to terrorizing innocents in order to ensure order. We appear weak. We operate as we do under the people's assumption that we are omnipresent, able to locate any threat with aboslute certainty on the first try. Now unless you want to ruin the reputation of this government's inner defense, you will find one location or you will find yourself out of employment."
Indignant, Hudson stood and mulled over one last rebuttal, only to find the words die at Henton's stare of blue steel. He turned and exited the room, leaving Henton once more alone in his office. Sliding the monitor out of its compartment in his desk, Henton reactivated his AI and left a note to see into Hudson's research personally. With that finished, he turned his chair around and stared out through the screens that displayed the city as it would be at that time: the building was entirely sealed off with cameras displaying the exterior upon the interior.
In the shroud of night, the haze of neon lights in the rain shone and, he was quite sure, stirred with the noise of an ever-bustling metropolis overladen with the low din of rainfall. Though his title as 'investigator' had little to do with work along the streets, he still felt a sense of purpose seeing his city below him. Even though his work was more talking with computer programs, unseen superiors, and department heads than it was scrounging up details, assaulting safehouses, and lurking alleyways Henton still felt more powerful than any man who scrounged up details, assaulted safehouses, and lurked alleyways.
They say lethal weapons were outlawed to ensure no man felt superior or in control upon false means, but what does that make me?
Casting the thought aside, Henton turned to his monitor once more, standing up and brushing his black overcoat off. "Ember, get the lights."
The AI program blinked with understanding, and, as he Henton left the office and began his way to the elevator, snuffed the lights and disabled itself. Likewise, other offices were beginning to shut down, the day officially having come to a close. Another investigator, Peterson, had left her room at the same time Henton had and the two strode side by side towards the elevator.
"Any luck on the underground researchers?" She asked, typing the elevator's authorization code upon their arrival to the sleak, white doors.
"We're making ground..." Henton grunted at the graying, slight officer opposite him. They had arrived within two weeks of one another and their work had intersected the most. "We're making ground..."
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