Chapter 1
The story begins, largely as most do, at a front door to an apartment building and some groceries. Two bags to be specific—recycled paper. Armchair environmentalist—that’s me. I don’t care about the environment? Fuck you. I bag my groceries in recycled paper.
So, two environmentally friendly bags full of bachelor essentials: one large bottle of ketchup, a six pack of the cheapest beer I could find, two dozen donuts, one bottle of mouthwash, a tube of toothpaste, and one pound of bos. Bos resembles the chickens I ate on Earth if I close my eyes and pretend it’s chicken. All things aside, it does taste great.
The door was of course locked. It always is. Now, I understand it’s a less-than-affluent part of Oazan in the same way a brothel is simply a misspelled hostel and I should be afraid of somebody trying to break in and steal all my furniture. The thing is, the building where I rent my apartment, it’s so far away from where a normal citizen who thinks of stealing furniture would go that the locked door is simply an annoyance.
"Shit." I shook my head and dropped the biometric keycard needed to get into any building on any planet of The United Planets. Big Brother’s way of keeping honest people honest.
The jealousy inducing beautiful android face of my boss showing up on my Enhanced Eyes was the reason for the curse. Her face was movie star masculine; a strong square jaw line, cheek bones that could break the hand of an attacker if the face didn’t melt their heart beforehand, and brilliant emerald green eyes that quite literally glittered in light. I say her face when she looks like a man because it is who she is. However, societal bigotry keeps the man face on the woman inside. Why? Apparently, the line in the sand is a man loving a man or a woman loving a woman. Say you are opposite from the gender norm and the gloves are off.
"Hi Pam. How’s it going?" I set my bicycle against the building and shifted the bag of groceries to get at my keycard that was staring up me from two feet away. With the two bags of precious cargo blocking me, it may have well been two miles.
"Fantastic Tom! My friend, how are you?" Pam asked in the sultry-smooth baritone that bachelors like myself were envious of.
"Couldn’t be better. Just coming home from the grocery store. How can I help you?" I silently prayed she was going to say she was drunk and just wanted to flirt, anything than come back to the office.
"I have a story that I think seems tailor made for you, Tom, my boy. Not only that, I am positive that this story will make you famous. I can see it now ’Tom Moore: Investigative Reporter to the Stars’. What do you say, you down to begin a story? I know it is a bit late in the day so I guess I could always hand it off to someone in the office…"
I breathed deeply, keeping a straight face. The damned Enhanced Eyes everyone wore were damn good at picking up facial features. Going into the office was the furthest thing from my mind at the moment. For a start, getting into my apartment building would have been welcome.
"What do you mean to the stars’ Pam?" One thing about androids, they don’t misspeak. What they say is deliberate. "I’m a real journalist."
"Sure you are Tom. I didn’t mean to make you out to be anything less. Did I mention the raise that comes with the story?"
I let out a sigh and looked at the keycard once more. The cheap beer in the bag that tasted marginally better than dirty tap water caught my eye. "What’s the story about?"
"I’m sending you the information right now. The woman is expecting you within the hour. Don’t disappoint." Pam said, her face winked out to be replaced by my EEs alerting me to new data in my personal drive at work.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. "Fucking goddamnit motherfucking piece of slimy ass dog farts!" I yelled, running out of curses. The counting to five was a lesson learned at my last job.
I shook my head, set the bag of groceries with the beer on the ground and picked up my keycard. Slapping it on the outside of the building, I kicked the door in and winced. The glass didn’t crack. This time. A small miracle and highway robbery diverted. Juggling the two bags of groceries, I pulled my bicycle in with me and stopped in my tracks, two steps into the small lobby.
There in front of me stood possibly the most beautiful woman I had ever been blessed to lay eyes on; five feet two inches tall, platinum blonde hair to her amazing bubbly ass, legs that went on for miles and toned from possibly an hour or two at the gym with a six pack of abs and toned arms to go with it. Her green eyes glittered like emeralds and her voice was angelic. What her name was I didn’t have a goddamn clue. She was my neighbor, had moved in two months ago when I was on an extended assignment. I had only seen her fewer times than I can count on both hands and four times she was talking to some man that didn’t live in the building.
Yes, she was a crush that made my heart ache and reminded me of those crushes I had back in elementary school; the ones that would leave me up at night drawing hearts on the canvas created by my EEs. I had half a mind to do that with this woman then remembered that would be enough to label me as stalker.
I watched her stand in front of her door, the workout shorts stopping just below her butt cheeks, showing off those tan legs in such a way that should have been illegal. Her jacket stopped just below the small of her back, though I knew that if she turned around I would be able to see…
Snap out of it Tom. You’re starting to creep yourself out, I said to myself, as I looked at what she was doing and realized she had likely locked herself out of her house. It appeared she was attempting to jam her keycard into the door to pry it open. That would never work. I knew from experience.
"Hi there. Umm, do you need help getting into your apartment?" I asked.
She jumped and spun around, putting a hand to her chest. "What?"
"It looks like you got locked out and are trying to pry your door open with the keycard." I pointed at her keycard like she had no clue what the thing in her hand was. "I’ve tried it before. Well I mean." I put my hands up feeling like a complete jackass. "I mean not to your place, to mine, it didn’t work, the keycard…lost keys even though we don’t..."
She looked at me in a way that made me want to crawl into a hole a die. "No, I’m good. I guess thank you for the tip though. I’ll remember not to try to pry my door open." She turned the nob while still looking at me and pushed the door open. "Have a nice day." She said and slipped inside her apartment.
You too, universe’s most gorgeous woman who now thinks I am a bumbling moron. "Fuck" I muttered and walked up to my door wanting to kick it open in frustration, but thankfully remembered how much the Super charged for repairs he viewed as being something I did on purpose. You’ve never met a tight-ass when it comes to money like a sonji. The people make anyone not sonji looked like careless assholes when it comes to money.
True story, back in my Marine Corps days we were fighting in a war by the name of Operation I’m An Asshole Politician Going To Send Some Poor Saps To Die For No Reason or something like that. This real stingy bastard, a sonji, was in charge of the armory. He made me and my platoon pay for new bullets at the end of the first week. Said we were using them too liberally. The Colonel loved him though. Come end of the fiscal year when it was time to spend all the leftover money to keep the same budget, the Colonel would have enough money left over to buy himself a new car or a boat or another house or a combination of all three.
So instead of kicking the door open I pressed my thumb on the doorknob, twisted it, and lost the bag containing my ketchup, bos and donuts. At least my beer was still alive. As I walked into my small one bedroom abode, kicking the gravity loving groceries inside, I focused on the new data message.
"Open it, Bevisste," I said to my Enhanced Eyes.
In the four steps it took to get to my kitchen Bevisste had published a list of words nearly ten thousand long in size two font or so it seemed. I shook my head in annoyance, shoved the bag that did not have the beer in it in the fridge then grabbed a beer and tried pulling the top off.
"Goddamnit." Nothing worse than thinking a bottle of beer is twist off and finding out it isn’t by scraping off the top few layers of skin from your palm. "Are you serious Bevisste? If I wanted to read, I would look at what I wrote before turning it in. Talk to me," I said as I hunted through the four drawers for a bottle opener.
"Oh, I didn’t realize you’re drunk. Is it that time of day again?" Bevisste asked.
Yeah, the EEs have a sense of humor, cynical as it may be. Back in the day when the first EEs were being designed the creator thought it would be innovative to give the dumb computer, and at that time they were quite dumb, a sense of humor. Ha ha, very funny, everyone got a good laugh out of it. Little did the people know the computer program everyone thought was funny would turn into an artificial intelligence that was possibly sentient and equally as cynical as the worst online troll.
"Just read the goddamn data. I’m supposed to meet this lady in an hour, so I don’t have time to sift through the pertinent facts."
"Only an hour? Why is your beer not open? Are you actually going to be sober for this interview?"
Low blow. You go to two interviews a little buzzed and you never hear the end of it. It wasn’t exactly my fault no one told me lopes kept urinal troughs for a weird tea time. They kept to themselves while I in the service.
"You going read it or not?" I would have cried victory when I finally found the bottle opener, though even I know how sad that would be.
"Oh this is good?" Bevisste said with amusement.
"What?" I said around the mouth of the bottle.
"Dead cat in Port Richey." Bevisste sounded quite proud of herself for breaking the news to me as I promptly choked on my beer.
Now it’s not as bad as it sounds. Pam didn’t send me on some ridiculous assignment because somebody’s poor pet got ran over by a car. No, he sent me on a ridiculous assignment because a dead cat is a little bit bigger than that.
Cats were banned by The United Planets and Socialist Republics (which meant the unaffiliated worlds said, “Sure, we’re in. Please give us some money.”) back in 2573. The population of the furry feline friends had grown so out of control by that year the tuna juice loving, crotch licking, large rodents had outnumbered every citizen across all ten races, 206:1. Funny thing is that wasn’t the reason why cats were banned. That very same year the furry demons eradicated the entire planetary ecosystem of Kaners by killing every single pollinating insect, every bird, every rodent, and every reptile smaller than a rat.
Both warring governments finally stopped pissing in each other’s cereal long enough to decide what everyone knew all along: cats are evil and needed to be destroyed. So they rounded up all the cats and would have made them all extinct if not for a few trillionaires creating waves. In keeping with the age old tradition of only listening to the sound of money, the politicians made a concession in the law to take DNA samples for cloning purposes.
Why a dead cat was such a big thing and why I hated my boss enough to shoot him was it had to have belonged to a trillionaire since the ninety-nine percent could never be able to afford the things. It was the little things like cloned cats that made me hate wealthy people. It, of course, had nothing to do with always being poor.
"Whose cat was it?" I asked dreading the answer.
"Miss Cleopatra Eviners."
There is a God. I had never heard of Miss Cleopatra so that meant she was new to the more money than I would ever see scene. That meant she wouldn’t be so prissy and assholish since she still feared losing her money and being kicked out of the club.
"I guess I better leave right now or Pam will have me in the office every day for the next year," I said rhetorically.
"Don’t forget your beer," Bevisste replied. Apparently they don’t get rhetoric.
I took one long swig of the beer, put it in the fridge next to its five friends and shut the door.
"How’s traffic?" I asked.
"If you hustle you’ll reach the 1400 train with a few minutes to spare."
I grabbed my bicycle, a nice black three speed with red rims and ran out the door stopping before I ran over Miss Gorgeous.
"Oh my God, I’m sorry," I said as I spun around her, miraculously not hitting her with a wheel, but not so fast that I did not have time to check out the fantastic form fitting shirt and those shorts. My God was she gorgeous. "I’m in a hurry. Sorry!"
I ran out the door, shoved the bicycle to a start and jumped on it. I began riding like the bats of hell were right on my tail. Down a sidewalk even weeds tried not to grow on or near, across a four lane road devoid of vehicles and onto the sidewalk that went under the monorail that ran around the city. The subway station was four miles away and I had a little less than twenty minutes to make it. I pushed hard hoping to any deity that would have pity on me that my chain would not slip and cause me to get in a crash that would put me in the hospital. It had happened once. I have the scars somewhere on body to prove it.
A few minutes of riding hard I made it to the busier section of town, the part of town that was full of vehicles and no pedestrians. It was a lonely part of town, the streets incredibly busy but the life in the vehicles passing it by untouched. It was a part of town that I was beginning to think of fondly. The hiwa place I loved to visit was on my right. Boro the Hiwa as she loved to call herself was standing out front sweeping non-existent dirt from the stoop. She waved two of her six tentacles at me. I nodded not trusting myself that I would stay upright if I waved back.
The sidewalk under the monorail took a left while I kept straight. Another mile or so and I would be there. I looked at the always present clock on my EEs, 1348. If all went well I would have more than enough time to make it to the train.
I pulled to a skidding stop in front of a group of android tourists. The look ran the gamut, not a one even vaguely human in appearance like their ancestors had. That’s what comes when androids design androids. They forget about trying to look human and pick different oddball designs. I pulled the bicycle to my shoulder; winked at the two I pegged for ladies and ran down the stairs four at a time.
1353 read my EEs. Made it less than eighteen minutes. A new record for me, although I wasn’t at the train. At the bottom of the stairs was what I feared and what made the sweat pour from my body more than the long bicycle ride.
An entire platform full of people.
I looked at the clock again then repeated the word raise over and over. Just before getting shoved to the side by impatient commuters I walked towards the platform. I noticed one or two humans interspersed in the throng. Feeling sorry for them I headed away from them so I wouldn’t accidentally hit any with my bike and pushed through the mass of bodies apologizing as I went, trying in vain to get to the front of the line. To find a spot that would not be pressed against from every angle. It was slow going but as I made it to the second row of people from the drop-off, the subway train was pulling to a stop.
"Hooray!" I yelled and winked at the people around me.
"You should drink to that." Bevisste said. "Oh yeah, you forgot your beer at home. That’s why I say you should wear a backpack. You could bring your hooray drink with you."
I wasn’t sure if she was fucking with me or not so I let the remark go. The doors opened and I pushed my way into the car through the throng of people getting off and found a place to set my bicycle before it got too full. It was not the heaviest thing but it got awkward holding it for long periods of time.
"Where did she make her money, Bevisste?" I asked and backed as far against the wall as I could and still have a handle on my bike. Two young lopes with their bug eyes and two arms that ended in ten appendages a piece looked a little too closely at the bike. I sat on it to dissuade them from trying to make off with it when we stopped.
"She is the daughter heir to TimberAIR." Bevisste replied.
I swore creatively enough that the two young lopes applauded. I bowed on the seat and flourished a make-believe hat.
TimberAIR. After purchasing a dozen different airlines to become the largest, by passenger, cargo weight and flights flown, airline in The United Planets; the company then went on to buy its way into prominence in every other industry it entered, which seemed to be every industry in existence. Timber, the founder, was said to be wealthier than money could account for. Rumor had it that he had two poor baggage handlers strung up by their thumbs for scratching one of his bags on a trans-planet flight.
So, Cleopatra whatever, she most likely took a different last name to try to make something of herself was finally let in on the family fortune and bought herself a house in the swankiest of swanky neighborhoods on Oazan. She petitioned for a cat, which her father got her one without pressing too hard I am sure, and then let the stupid thing outside where it got ran over by a recycler truck or eaten by a dog.
Money, apparently, does not buy intelligence.
"What kind of cat?" I asked.
"A calico by the name of Sehcir; the cat was three years old today actually."
"Of course, which means she is going to be hysterical and it will be a major miracle to get her to say something other than how wonderful the furball was. I hate Pam. She’s an asshole."
"Cat? You know someone who has a cat?" One of the lopes asked.
I looked at him. His large fly like face was painted orange and green. It meant he was a huge Torpedo fan possibly on his way to one of the soccer games. I quickly queried the soccer games happening on Oazan and nodded at my brilliance.
"Torpedo fan ’ey?" I asked changing the subject. I didn’t want some poor bugs following me into the wealthiest part of the planet. I was sure to be stopped ten times in the first mile just for riding a bicycle. I didn’t need to try to explain the bugs were not with me.
"Biggest there are! Second round of the IPP—interplanetary playoffs—is today. We got damn near field tickets. Section two hundred of Cluck Stadium!" He hit his odd appendages with his friend.
The two were most definitely not poor. It would cost me half a year’s wages to get a nosebleed ticket to that stadium. It looked really nice in pictures.
"That’s awesome. They’re playing Avalanche right?" I asked.
"Yeah and it’s not going to be even close." He turned to his friend and began talking about how much better the Torpedoes were than the Avalanche.
Crisis averted. Well at least one crisis. I began to play over in my head what I would ask Cleopatra. I had the cat’s name and age. Now the piece needed what it did while it was at home, what kinds of friends it played with, where it slept in the home, how often it ate, what it ate; people ate that stuff up. It was fluff piece and not much of the investigative pieces I was used to.
"When did it die and where?" I asked Bevisste deciding I was going to turn it into an investigative piece.
"It died at 0936 this morning or at least that is when a cleaning android found the body. It was found at the side of the pool. The android claimed, one time, it had a hole in the side at the base of the tail, but authorities said she confused the thing’s butthole with a weapon hole." I barked a laugh at that. "It apparently had never been outside the house before. Needless to say, the entire cleaning staff is in lock up at the moment, money is on them never seeing the outside of a cell."
I nodded at that. With who Cleopatra’s daddy was, every person who lived in that house sans his daughter was going to be looking at bars for quite some years. I thought on the possible angle of the cat being murdered to send a message. I could go with that, it would make a piece that would guarantee an even larger raise if I could pinpoint the person who killed a cat.
"Who are Timber’s enemies? I can’t imagine someone like him doesn’t have at least one person who wants it in for him."
"I think it would be quicker if I told you who is not his enemy. Actually better yet let me just show you in text form who hates this man and would go to the lengths to kill his daughter’s cat." For all of Bevisste’s cynicism she was one crafty AI who seemed to always be on the same page as me.
A list longer than I cared to read, ever, was displayed in front of me so thick I could barely see the rest of the subway riders.
"Holy shit." I said softly and let out a whistle. "Maybe that is why rich people are so paranoid."
"Money makes more enemies than friends, that is for sure." She replied.
The subway train flashed red lights along the roof. "Raj stop coming up." The train announced.
I got off my bike and picked it up high enough to rest the pedals on my shoulder. "How’s the time?"
"You have thirty two minutes. If you ride as fast as you did here you’ll get there with a few minutes to spare."
I nodded knowing I was not going to be on time. The spoiled brat could learn patience by waiting a few minutes. There was just no feasible way I was making it to the house in thirty two minutes especially when it took me almost ten minutes to push my way out of the subway station; and I fully expected for a drone cop to pull me over the moment I got the first tire into the neighborhood.
"I can’t believe Pam told her I would there in an hour."
"You really think Pam gave her the time limit? She saw money signs and probably told her you would be there in two minutes."
"Very true." I said as I jumped on my bike and began pedaling slowly through the crowd. I spotted an opening on the street and took it.
A large sedan sped by, the computer did not even try to dodge me, so close that the wind pushed me towards the sidewalk and the tourists walking on it. I shook my fist at the car then put my head down and concentrated on getting to Port Richey in one piece.
As I came up on the large gates to the neighborhood after an exhausting ten minute ride I slowed to a crawl and got off to begin pushing the bicycle. True to my estimation I had made it about one hundred feet into the neighborhood when blue and red lights flashed on a car down the street from me. I swore under my breath and continued walking as if I owned the place.
"Stop right there." The cop said over a loud speaker.
"Come on asshole, I’m already late." I muttered.
The car pulled to a stop beside me. It was a drone. The windows were silver and looked as if they had never been rolled down since they tested it at the factory.
"Name is Tom Moore. Pam Dixie of Planet Oazan Daily sent me to interview Miss Cleopatra Eviners. Apparently her cat died." I said preempting any questions.
I felt the scan as well as saw the red light go over my body. "You’re late." The drone said.
No shit. I said to myself.
"We will drive next to you so you are not stopped again." The drone said, talking in plural was done for some strange reason I have never been able to puzzle out.
I nodded, got back on my bike and began riding quickly. I passed two houses in the two miles I rode and came up to a mansion that could have doubled as a small country. The house was so big I was temporarily set aback. I had been in Port Richey a few times and was ready for the large ostentatious houses however this was something else. I’m no realtor but I would place the house at an easy five million square feet. It went from a classic Earth style castle on one end to a modern art masterpiece at the other end complete with sculptures that made no sense.
"Talk about a first house." Bevisste said.
I nodded dumbly. This was too much. The police car stopped at the gated entrance briefly to wait on it to open then I followed it in. The house itself was set back almost a half mile from the road with a yard that crawled with little silver landscapers. It was like a museum or an incredibly expensive amusement park. The roller coaster on the far side from me gave it the amusement park look more than a museum.
We made it to the front where the cop stopped and waited. It may have scanned me but I bet dollars to donuts it was under the pay of Timber and would escort me out of the place. I walked my bicycle to the front door that loomed twice as tall as my six feet and raised my hand to knock.
The door opened to reveal a human man. That was quite the surprise. I was expecting a machine or some other race to open the door.
"I’m Tom Moore."
"You’re late." He answered in a disappointing tone.
I flashed him my best jovial smile and followed him into the house that was just as amazing inside as it was outside. Polished gold and platinum lined the floor in the place of marble. Huge potted designer plants the colors of the rainbow dotted the foyer with one giant fountain. The butler led me through the foyer to a sitting area and pointed at a couch that I was not about to sit in. It smelled like more money than I made in ten years.
"Stay here. I will get Miss Eviners." He ordered.
I continued smiling at him, my cheeks hurting, and waited. I was looking at a painting of a nude gorgeous woman when I heard a polite cough behind me. I turned and stopped in mid-turn, my breath caught in my throat. Miss gorgeous of my apartment you have met you match, check and mate. The woman standing in front of me was so beautiful that it physically hurt to look at her for too long of a time. Her red hair and green eyes were enough to make me forget my name. The white satin robe she wore covered curves that made me long to touch her and hold her and make her happy. The four arms weirded me out though.
I have no clue what started the cosmetic surgery trend to add two more arms but it was the en vogue trend with the fabulously wealthy crowd. I had seen it more than I can count in my thirty six years even back on Earth although it never stopped giving me the creeps. Hiwas, sonji and some androids had more than two arms; humans were not supposed to. Even with that mindset it did not stop the primitive mating part of my brain from acting on her beauty and compelling me to try everything I could think of to carry on my family name.
"Tom Moore?" Cleopatra asked in a voice that was a hundred angels. Money can buy pretty much anything.
I stared at her for another minute before I remembered how to talk. "Yes. Miss Cleopatra Eviners?"
"Please call me Cleo." She said and rubbed her nose.
I noticed then that her eyes and nose were red from crying. I felt an urge so overwhelming to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything will be okay that I actually took a step forward. I turned it into a flourish of pointing at the painting.
"Quite some painting. The model is beautiful." I said.
"I did that last year before I got my two other arms."
Awkward.
"You’re here to write a eulogy of Sehcir correct?" She asked.
I flinched. What did Pam tell this lady? I shook my head. "Actually no Cleop-Cleo. I am here to write about the life of your cat, yes, and to find out how it died and why. Excuse my language but it fucking pisses me off that someone would think to take the life of something as precious as a cat. There are hardly any around and that someone would go to the lengths to frighten and scare such a beautiful young woman with such a barbaric action absolutely sickens me." Now tell me you want me to hold you and do more intimate things with you.
She smiled sadly and fell into a great big sob as she crossed the few feet to me, wrapping me in an embrace as she cried on my shoulder. If it were not for the two extra arms I would have been in seventh heaven. I awkwardly put my arms around her, her skin felt as smooth as the satin, and stroked her silky smooth hair.
"I knew Sehcir did not just die from being outside. I told the police that and they looked at me like I was an idiot." She said into my shoulder.
"They are the idiots." I said.
She pushed away from me, kissed me on the cheek and smiled into my eyes. Those damn two extra arms. "You’re so sweet. I’m glad you were sent here instead of an android. Humans have to stick together."
Humans with two arms. I shook my head. Focus Tom. "Yes we do. Do you want to just data dump me everything that your precious Sehcir did throughout the day or do you want to talk about it?"
"Sehcir!" Cleo held all four hands to her mouth and ran away.
I begin to get a data dump as she ran away. In the data dump I saw a message to return tomorrow at the same time and she would be in a better state of mind to talk about what happened. I nodded as I watched the luscious piece of flesh run up the stairs then shook my head.
"Damn I need a date." I said.
"About time you admitted that. I was wondering if you would become a hermit." Bevisste said.
"It’s only been three days." I replied.
"Yeah." She said as if she didn’t see everything I did. One of these days I was going to take my EEs out...One of these days.
"Mr. Moore, please follow me." The butler ordered in a tone that said he would have me shot if I tried to stay any longer.
"That’s some tragedy that Cleo’s cat would get killed like it did." I said trying to sound if I was making conversation as I tried to pump the butler for information. "It had never been outside from what I hear then it’s found this morning outside with a hole in it."
"It is a shame." He said in a flat voice and held his hand out in the direction of the door.
"Let me give you my card in case you feel like getting a drink and lamenting the misfortunes of the wealthy folk." I said turning around as I stepped over the threshold.
The door slammed before I could bring up the business card info on my EEs. I shook my head and looked around at the giant door. Turning around I rolled my eyes at the cop car still waiting in the drive and grabbed my bike.
"I need a fucking drink."