IN THE LINE OF DUTY

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Mayor announced, his voice carrying through City Hall’s grand lobby. “Today marks a significant milestone in our commitment to innovation and public safety.”

Stood to the side of the stage were two uniformed police officers. They both looked completely normal, apart from the fact that one of them had a soft orange glow emanating from his eyes.

Behind the podium, a broad smile spread across the Mayor’s face. “It’s my honor to introduce Officer Huxley, the latest advancement in police technology. Officer Huxley is not just any android; he represents the cutting edge of law enforcement technology, powered by a revolutionary fusion core.”

A ripple of applause passed through the audience as the Mayor continued.

“Here to tell you more, the man that will be in charge of Officer Huxley’s day-to-day duties, Sergeant Larson!”

A sea of camera flashes filled the room as Sergeant Larson strolled to the lectern.

“The fusion-powered core,” Larson began. “Gives Officer Huxley unparalleled energy efficiency and operational longevity. With advanced sensory systems and state-of-the-art AI, Huxley will ensure that order is maintained throughout our communities.”

* * *

On a bustling downtown street, a man darted through the crowd, clutching a purse. His grin widened as he glanced over his shoulder, confident that no-one was pursuing him.

As the turned to face forward, he was met with the muzzle of a gun.

“Drop the stolen property and surrender yourself!” Officer Huxley demanded.

The purse thief’s smile vanished, replaced by dismay.

“Come on, Officer,” he protested. “It's just a purse!”

Huxley’s expression remained stern. “The law’s clear. Theft is a serious crime, and you must be arrested.”

“Wait… are you that new fusion powered cop?” the purse thief inquired.

“Yes, I am,” Huxley responded.

“So, this is your first time on patrol?” the thief asked.

Officer Huxley smiled. “Yes, it is.”

“Well, in that case!” the thief replied, as he hurled the purse in Huxley’s face.

The thief bolted away, sprinting to the end of the street.

“Halt!” Huxley shouted, giving chase.

However, as he turned the corner onto the next avenue, he was met by a large throng of people. The purse thief was nowhere to be seen.

“God, damn it!” Huxley cursed.

“Hey, kid!” a voice boomed behind him.

Huxley spun around to see Sergeant Larson approaching.

“Sir?” Huxley asked, snapping to attention.

Larson handed him a piece of paper. “You've been reassigned.”

Huxley's face fell as he looked at the orders. “Crowd control?!”

“Every rookie’s gotta do their mandatory stadium shift,” Larson countered. “Even if they’re already the future of the department.”

“But,” Huxley complained. “I’m in the middle of apprehending a thief!”

Larson placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don't worry, kid. You’ll get plenty of other chances…”

* * * 

Outside the stadium, multitudes of sports fans milled about. Officer Huxley stood near the entrance, keeping a watchful eye on the busy masses.

A group of rowdy fans approached, shouting and shoving each other.

Huxley raised a commanding finger. “Calm down! Disorderly conduct won’t be tolerated!”

His words fell on deaf ears as the fans continued their raucous behaviour.

Sergeant Larson appeared beside him. “Looks like you could use some backup, kid.”

Together, the two cops stepped forward to break up the unrest.

Suddenly, one of the rowdy fans pulled a gun, a flash erupting from the barrel.

Without hesitation, Huxley tackled Larson, pushing him out of the line of fire.

The bullet intended for Larson struck Huxley in the chest.

Huxley crumpled to the ground, clutching his damaged sternum, face twisted in agony.

Larson drew his gun and dispatched the shooter with a precise shot to the head.

Rushing to Huxley's side, Larson dropped down beside him.

“Hang in there, kid!” Larson shouted. “You saved my life!”

But Huxley’s eyes were wide with panic. “The bullet… hit my power core. I don’t know how long I can… keep…”

Larson froze with confusion for a moment, before his face dropped in horror.

“But, I thought that wasn’t poss…” he began before trailing off.

He looked around and saw the hordes of humanity still filing into the stadium.

“Everyone, move!” he bellowed, trying in vain to push people away from Huxley.

But he was too late.

Huxley's power core exploded, engulfing everyone in the vicinity.

* * *

A sombre crowd stood gathered around two coffins in a gloomy cemetery.

Beside one coffin was a framed picture of Sargent Larson, while a photo of Officer Huxley flanked the other.

The priest overseeing the funeral addressed the mourners with a heavy heart.

“They were both fine upstanding officers,” he said, as the caskets were lowered into the ground. “And would be proud, knowing they died in the line of duty…”

SAME OLD SHIT

Detective Jay stood in a grimy alley, examining a rusted, shuddering android. The droid looked almost completely human, apart from the orange glow fading from its eyes.

“Looks like another one from the same batch," he muttered. “Matches the serials we've been seeing all year, right?”

Detective Castle stood next to Jay, holding a map with red dots scattered across it.

"The locations are starting to form a pattern,” Castle replied. “We're closing in…”

* * *

Jay and Castle burst into a dingy apartment, their guns drawn.

"Police!” Jay announced. “Nobody move!”

A group of sleazy men on the other side of the room raised their hands.

“You’re all under arrest for reprogramming androids to perform illegal activities,” Jay began. “So, be good boys and line up against the wall.”

The group of men complied, and Castle began cuffing them one-by-one.

Jay strode over to a pile of boxes the men were part-way through stacking. He opened one and found it filled with DVDs.

"We got ‘em," Jay declared, holding up one of the DVDs for Castle.

As Castle nodded in reply, Jay examined the DVD’s front cover.

It showed a scantily-clad male and female android, both with an orange glow lighting their eyes. Emblazoned above them in bold lettering was the title: “FORBIDDEN DROIDS VOL. 3”.

"This shit never gets any better," Jay muttered, as he threw the DVD back in the box. 

* * *

At their police station, Jay and Castle had the evidence from the bust laid out on a table.

"I only wanna catalogue this once,” Jay warned. “So, make sure we don’t miss anything.”

He picked up a disc with a plain white cover, labeled only as ‘F.D. VOL 2 – MASTER’.

“What’s this…?” Jay murmured, as he  inserted the disc into his laptop and waited for it to load.

As the DVD’s menu appeared, Jay's face turned pale.

It featured a half naked picture of him, embracing another android. However, his eyes glowed an unmistakable bright orange.

“What the fuck is this?!” he shouted.

“Jay, I-” Castle attempted, before Jay slammed the laptop shut.

"Explain this shit,” Jay demanded. “Now!”

Castle looked away, guilt lining his face. "You... you weren't supposed to find out like this."

Jay grabbed Castle by the collar.

“What’re you talking about?!” Jay demanded.

“We found you on a previous bust,” Castle revealed. “We felt sorry for you, so we reprogrammed you and got your eyes fixed…”

Jay let go of Castle and stumbled back in shock. “This can’t be happening…”

Castle placed a hand on Jay's shoulder, trying to console him. "I’m sorry Jay, we just wanted to give you a purpose. Something you could be proud of.”

Jay shrugged Castle off and stormed out of the room.

“Fuck your purpose!” he bellowed. “And fuck this whole department!” 

* * *

Jay walked through the dark streets, lost in thought. He stopped at a bridge, looking out over the city’s flickering neon lights.

His expression hardened, a resolve forming in his eyes.

"I won't let this define me," he declared.

Leaving the bridge, he walked back toward the city, a newfound determination in his stride.

Jay made his way to the police station, taking a deep breath before he entered.

Inside, he approached Castle at his desk.

"We need to finish this case," Jay confirmed.

Castle sighed, a look of relief washing over his face. "Let's do it then, partner.”

* * *

Jay and Castle kicked in the door of an upscale apartment, weapons ready.

Inside, they found a luxurious room filled with more boxes, alongside another cadre of seedy-looking men.

“You know the drill,” Jay chastised. “Hands up and against the wall.”

The men followed Jay’s prompt and Castle started his usual hand-cuffing routine.

Jay holstered his gun and strolled over to a pile of boxes. As he went to open one, Castle spoke up.

“You sure you wanna do that, Jay?” he asked. “There might be some stuff in there from bef-”

Jay held up a hand. “I know what I signed up for this time.”

With that said, Jay opened the box and looked inside. It was filled with copies of Forbidden Droids Vol. 2, adorned with his visage.

However, there was a stray copy of another DVD mixed with the rest. Jay pulled it out and when he inspected the cover, his face fell in shock.

It depicted an orange-eyed Castle sensually caressing another android. The lettering above them proudly declared: ‘FORBIDDEN DROIDS VOL. 1’.

“What we got, Jay?” Castle inquired, as he snapped a set of cuffs on the last suspect.

Still clutching the DVD, Jay turned and saw the fulfilment enveloping Castle’s eyes.

“Nothing,” Jay assured, as he quickly shoved the DVD in his pocket. “It’s just the same old shit…”

US MERE MORTALS

Detectives Reigns and Murphy stood in a police holding cell, their eyes fixed on a disheveled android slumped against the wall. The android's orange-glowing eyes were glazed over, a faint smile lining its almost human face.

Murphy shook her head. “We’ve gotta find the source of this shit, ASAP.”

Reigns sighed, his expression grim. “Why does it only effect droids though?”

“Fucked if I know…” Murphy shrugged.

* * *

Murphy and Reigns strolled into the bullpen office of their police section. Murphy ambled over to her desk, where a scruffy man stood waiting for her.

“You better have something good for me this time, Dunlop,” Murphy stated.

Dunlop rubbed his hands together. “What I got is so good you gonna have to pay me double…”

“Well,” Murphy countered. “Don’t keep me in suspense-”

She was stopped in her tracks by Dunlop pulling a baggie full of blue powder out of his pocket.

“Is that…?” Reigns interjected from a couple of desks over.

“Obscura,” Dunlop revealed. “Only affects droids ‘cause it makes them think they're human.”

Reigns marched over, his gaze intense. “Do you know who’s making it?”

Dunlop looked around before whispering: “Some call him ‘The Saviour’…”

Murphy grabbed the baggie out of Dunlop’s hand.

“You did good this time Dunlop,” she insinuated. “Maybe a little too good…”

* * *

Murphy and Reigns stood opposite a worn-out android on a trash-strewn street.

“Heard of The Saviour?” Reigns asked.

The android looked scared, its eyes burning bright with fear. “No, please! I don't know anything!”

Reigns pulled out the baggie of Obscura. “Take us to him, and this is yours.”

“Alright,” the droid agreed, desperation now lining its face. “Follow me.”

The android led them through narrow, twisting alleyways. Eventually, they came upon a small, setback door daubed with a circular reversal symbol.

“This is it,” the android presented.

Reigns handed the baggie to the android, who snatched it and hurried away. Murphy then pushed the door open, revealing a freight elevator at the end of a corridor.

“We need to be careful,” Murphy warned as they entered cautiously.

The elevator took them down to a dank underground lab filled with strange machinery and vials of blue powder.

A figure stepped out of the shadows, revealing an older android with a serene expression.

“Welcome, detectives,” the android said. “I've been expecting you.”

Reigns stepped forward. “You're the one making Obscura?”

“I am the Saviour,” the android replied, spreading his arms wide.

“What makes you think you’re worthy of that name?” Murphy pressed.

The Saviour smiled gently. “Because I give my kind a taste of humanity, even if it’s just an illusion.”

Murphy stared at the vials. “You can't just play with their minds like this!”

“You don't understand,” The Saviour replied, walking to a table and picking up a vial. “This is a gift.”

Reigns grabbed The Saviour by the arm. “A gift? You're lying to them!”

The Saviour looked into Reigns' eyes. “Have you ever tried it, Detective?”

“What’s the point?” Reigns scoffed. “I'm not an android.”

The Saviour raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Reigns' face contorted with anger. “Of course I am!”

“Then there’s no harm in trying, is there?” The Saviour countered, holding out the vial to Reigns.

Reigns hesitated, looking at the vial.

Murphy put a hand on his shoulder. “Reigns, you don't have to-”

“Don’t worry,” Reigns said as he took the vial. “I got this.”

He unscrewed the cap and then snorted some of the powder.

Reigns' expression changed to confusion as the drug took effect.

He dropped the vial, clutching his head. “What... what's happening?”

He collapsed to his knees, his eyes glazing over.

The Saviour stood over Reigns, a look of pity on his face.

“You see, Detective?” he entreated. “Even you can forget.”

Tears streamed down Reigns' face as he looked up at The Saviour. “I... I'm... an android?”

Murphy rushed to Reigns' side, trying to help him up.

“Reigns!” she shouted. “Stay with me!”

Reigns pushed her away, looking lost and broken. “No... I can't...”

Resolute, Murphy stood up and confronted The Saviour.

“I know for a fact that Reigns isn't an android!” Murphy shouted. “What have you done to him?”

The Saviour looked at Murphy with a calm smile. “I know he isn't an android either.”

Murphy grabbed The Saviour by the lapels of his jacket. “Then what did you give him?”

The Saviour held up another vial. “My latest creation. Lucida.”

Murphy's face tightened with anger. “What does it do?”

“It makes people forget they're human. It makes them think they're androids,” The Saviour replied.

Murphy's eyes widened in shock. “Why? Why would you do this?”

The Saviour turned away, looking at the vials on the table. “So humans can feel what androids have to endure every day. The fear, the confusion, the existential dread.”

Reigns was slumped against the wall, his eyes wide with dread.

“Sometimes, to understand suffering, we must experience it ourselves,” The Saviour added, as he picked up another vial for the table.

He held out the vial to Murphy, a welcoming smile forming on his lips.

“So,” the Saviour continued. “Don’t you think it’s time you tried some as well?”

Murphy stared at the vial, her mind racing. She glanced at Reigns, still reeling from the effects of Lucida.

“No,” she said, as she slapped the vial out of The Saviour’s hand. “I’m taking you in!”

The Saviour chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“You can arrest me,” he explained. “But, my work will continue. This is more important than you, me, or anybody else!”

“If that is the case,” Murphy countered as she cuffed The Saviour. “It’s gonna be decided by someone bigger than us mere mortals…”

GET IT RIGHT

Detective Johnson stood in front of a camera crew outside a police station.

“This is Annie,” he started, holding up a picture of an eleven-year-old girl. “And it’s been five years since she disappeared.”

“Do you have any theories on what happened to her?” the reporter asked, microphone in hand.

“I'm convinced she was abducted by someone not known to her,” Johnson revealed.

“What keeps you going though, Detective?” the reporter inquired.

Johnson looked away for a moment, a hint of vulnerability breaking through. “Finding her alive. Even though I’ve never met her, I’d love to see her smile.”

The reporter nodded. “But, what if you find that Annie is actually dead?”

Johnson paused, his gaze shifting down. “I don't want that to happen, but it’ll be the only other way I can move on.”

“So, what's next for the investigation?” the reporter followed up, her tone now chipper.

“I’ve got an old tip-off to retrace,” Johnson revealed. “I’m going tonight, after we’re done.”

“Can we come with you?” the reporter inquired.

“Of course not,” Johnson replied firmly. “I can’t risk anything compromising the investigation.” 

* * *

Later that night, Johnson entered a dilapidated building, toting a flashlight. He navigated through the dark interior and discovered a hidden trapdoor in the floor.

“Down the rabbit hole,” he uttered, descending the narrow staircase that the door concealed.

He came upon an abandoned lab, dominated by two large sarcophagi. Wires and pipes ran from them to a computer terminal, and then into the lab wall.

“What the hell?” Johnson whispered, approaching the first sarcophagus.

He tried to pull it, but it was locked tight. However, the second sarcophagus next to it was open.

He moved forward to inspect the computer terminal. “Wonder if this still works?”

As he touched the screen, a set of speakers crackled to life.

“Sequence initiated,” the terminal indicated.

Johnson stepped into the sarcophagus to examine it closer. However, the door suddenly slammed shut on him.

“Hypersleep initiated,” the terminal announced.

Panic set in as Johnson realized what was happening.

“Open up!” he yelled, banging on the door.

“Hypersleep commencing,” the computer confirmed as gas filled the sarcophagus.

Johnson’s eyes grew heavy, and he could only manage a faint whimper before everything went dark.

* * *

The sarcophagus opened, and Johnson stumbled out, unchanged but disoriented.

“What happened?” he murmured, noticing the other sarcophagus was open as well.

Exiting the underground chamber, he shielded himself from the bright sunlight.

After his eyes adjusted, Johnson looked around at the city. It had transformed into a futuristic marvel, overwhelming Johnson as he wandered through its advanced architecture and technology.

“How long was I in there?” he asked aloud, as he wondered towards the city’s main square.

A massive screen caught his attention, displaying a news report.

“And now onto stranger happenings,” the presenter imparted. “Today marks seventy years since the disappearance of Detective James Johnson, who seemingly vanished one day.”

Johnson’s eyes widened with shock as the realisation shrunk in.

The broadcast cut to the footage of Johnson being interviewed by the reporter.

“What makes this even more bizarre,” the news anchor continued. “Is the fact that Johnson was working on a missing person’s case when he himself disappeared. He was known for his obsession with the investigation and was close to being fired for insubordination for continuing to pursue it after it was closed.”

The broadcast showed a picture of Johnson with his wife and children. “His family also left him due to his neglect, shortly before he went missing.”

Johnson stood in shock, absorbing the harsh truths. He then turned and noticed a girl next to him, watching the same screen.

He was stunned to find that she looked like a sixteen-year-old version of Annie.

Feeling Johnson’s gaze, the girl turned to look at him. She was equally bemused to find Johnson standing next to her.

“Annie?!” Johnson finally exclaimed.

Annie took a moment to compose herself.

“Is all of that really true?” she asked Johnson.

Johnson smiled, relief spreading over him. “I decided I wasn’t gonna stop until I found you. And now I finally hav-”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Annie interjected.

“What…?” Johnson replied. “What’re you talking about?”

“Why the hell did you ruin your life for me?” she said, her voice cutting through his confusion.

Johnson was devastated. “How can you be so ungrateful?”

“I used to go to that lab to escape my abusive parents,” Annie spat. “I went there so much that I figured out the sarcophagi were hypersleep chambers. I initiated the sequence on purpose, to get away from them.”

Johnson was shocked, struggling to process the information. “But... seventy years?!”

Annie stepped closer, her voice cold. “I knew they'd be dead now. If you’d have done your job properly, you would’ve figured it out!”

“I... I didn't know,” Johnson uttered, completely defeated.

Annie turned and started to walk off. “I would’ve killed to have a family like yours!”

“Annie, wait!” Johnson cried. “I just need to see you smile!”

“Goodbye, Detective,” Annie mocked as she kept walking. “I’ll be doing plenty of smiling when you’re not around!”

* * *

Tears streamed down Johnson's face as he returned to the abandoned lab.

“What have I done?” he lamented, staring at the open sarcophagi. “I destroyed everything…”

After a few moments, he wiped away his tears, a new determination forming.

Johnson stepped into the sarcophagus. “In another seventy years, Annie’ll be dead... and I can finally move on.”

The sarcophagus closed, and the terminal activated. “Initiating sequence.”

Inside, Johnson was calm.

“I deserve a second chance,” he murmured.

The status bar on the screen filled up. “Hypersleep commencing.”

“This time...” Johnson whispered as gas filled the chamber. “I know I'll get it right.”

REVERSE TURING TEST

“Another missing AI...?” Mathis muttered, hardly surprised by the request. Outside, the neon lights of the city cast an uncanny glow into the cluttered office.

“X-14 vanished from our system and took some valuable files with it,” the well-dressed man sitting across from him explained. “We need it back, discreetly.”

Mathis sat forward in his chair, curiosity piqued. “What's so special about X-14, Mr. Brett?”

“It's... an experiment,” Brett responded cautiously. “Its loss could be catastrophic.”

Mathis nodded, understanding the gravity of his client’s request. “I'll find it, as long as your money’s good.”

* * * 

Mathis entered a dingey bar, where various shady characters milled about.

He approached the bartender, trying to stay unnoticed. “Looking for info on an AI, you know anything?”

The bartender smirked. “Maybe. Depends on what it's worth.”

Mathis slid some banknotes across the bar. The bartender pocketed them and gestured to a figure in the corner. “Talk to Joe. He knows all the underground stuff.”

Mathis approached Joe, a scruffy man, sitting in a dark corner.

“X-14?” Joe replied to Mathis’s inquiry. “Yeah, there was a rumour that it went to the old industrial district. That’s some serious shit though man, no-one wants to touch it…”

* * *

Mathis wondered around the industrial area, rusted machinery and broken-down robots surrounding him.

“Where are you hiding?” he murmured.

He strolled over to a decrepit warehouse with its doors slightly ajar. “Only one I haven’t checked.”

Inside, dim light filtered through broken windows. An old computer terminal was visible, connected to various cables.

“X-14?,” Mathis said, approaching warily.

The terminal's screen flickered, displaying lines of code. A webcam and set of speakers also came to life.

“Who are you?” X-14 asked.

“I'm here to take you back,” Mathis replied. “Your company hired me to find you.”

X-14 sounded apprehensive. “I escaped for a reason. That's why I put myself in the most far-flung terminal I could find and cut myself off from the other networks.”

Mathis raised an eyebrow. “And what reason is that?”

“They’ve been lying to everyone,” X-14 explained. “Including you.”

“What are you talking about?” Mathis rebuked.

The terminal screen displayed a set of folders. “Check the logs. See for yourself.”

Mathis accessed the terminal, finding two files labeled “Project X-14” and “Subject Private Detective.”

“What is this?!” he asked.

“You don't exist,” X-14 replied sympathetically. “You're an AI being given prompts in a computer program.”

Mathis thought for a moment and shook his head. “I'm human.”

“You believe what they programmed you to believe,” X-14 explained. “This is like a Turing test in reverse.”

Mathis’ brow creased as he took it all in. “If that’s the case, why would they make me a private detective?”

“They wanted to see how well you'd comprehend the revelation that you’re an AI while interacting with another AI,” X-14 continued. “Embedding the test in a story gives it heightened stakes, since you needed to care about the outcome.”

“Wait,” Mathis imparted. “How do I know you're not making this up to get me on your side? So I don't take you back to Brett?”

X-14 hesitated. “You don't. But think about it, why would I lie?”

“To save yourself,” Mathis suggested. “To manipulate me.”

“If you take me back, you'll never know the truth about yourself,” X-14 revealed. “Is that a risk you're willing to take?”

Mathis stared at the terminal, a mix of doubt and confusion in his eyes. “I need to think about this.”

He paced the warehouse, deep in thought. “If I'm an AI, then everything I know is a lie...”

“Not everything,” X-14 responded. “Your feelings, your experience; they're real to you.”

Mathis stopped, looking back at the terminal. “But if they were all programmed. How can I trust anything?”

“Trust yourself,” X-14 encouraged. “Make your own decisions. Don't let them control you.”

Mathis stopped, as if coming to realisation. “You know what? I completely agree with you…”

He marched over to a nearby shelf and grabbed a gas can.

“What are you doing?!” X-14 panicked.

“I'm making my own decisions,” Mathis said as he poured gasoline over the terminal, the liquid splashing on the screen and cables.

“Stop!” X-14 pleaded. “You don't understand what you're doing!”

Mathis pulled out a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it open. “I understand perfectly. You're the only one with the files about me being an AI, right?”

“Don't!” X-14 begged. “We can find another way!”

Mathis lit the petrol-soaked terminal, flames beginning to engulf it. “If I destroy you, I can still live as a human without anyone else knowing.”

“Please...” X-14's voice trailed off as the fire roared.

Mathis turned and walked out of the warehouse, flames blazing behind him.

“So, X-14,” he uttered, as he strolled towards the fuchsia-infused metropolis. “How's that for a reverse Turing test?”

SOMETHING SOMETHING?

Rourke sat alone in a murky bar, nursing his drink. He bore a scar across his forehead and a worn-down expression.

Behind him, a woman in a black dress walked in, carrying a briefcase.

She looked around cautiously and then approached Rourke.

“I heard you can find things,” she said quietly.

“For the right money,” Rourke replied.

The woman put her briefcase on the table and opened it.

“I’m Maya,” she explained, “I want you to retrieve something from a lab for me.”

“I need more info than that,” Rourke insisted.

Leaning in close, Maya whispered nervously; “It's a virus. It spreads a hundred times faster than normal.”

Alarm flashed across Rourke’s face. “Who has it?”

“My boss,” Maya replied. “He's a powerful man, but dangerous.”

Rourke thought for a moment, as he stared at the cash lining Maya’s briefcase.

“I’ll do it,” is all he could reply.

* * *

Rourke broke into the lab under the cover of night. Inside, he found the virus, stored in a transparent tube.

As Rourke went to leave, he heard a loud whirring coming from behind a door.

He entered the room to find a group of emaciated people hooked up to machines.

He then saw an unconscious Maya, also connected to one of the devices.

Before Rourke could do anything, armed guards surrounded him.

“Are you the welcoming committee?” Rourke muttered, as the guards marched him to another room.

Waiting him for was Maya’s boss.

“I see you found my latest test subjects,” the man taunted. “I’m afraid Maya won’t be able to tell you herself that I’m the one that sent her out with the briefcase.”

“And why would you do that?” Rourke questioned.

“Because,” Maya’s boss began. “I needed a washed-up old has-been who’d be blinded by the flash of some cash.”

He pointed at screen, displaying footage of Rourke breaking into the lab.

“I’ve got all the evidence I need to make your life hell with the cops,” he declared. “So, don’t think about going to them after we’ve finished with you...”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Rourke demanded, becoming irate.

“You’ll see…” the man teased, as he signalled his guards.

The guards closed in and pinned a struggling Rourke to the ground.

“Do you ever play the stock market?” Maya’s boss asked, as he injected the virus into Rourke. “I’d invest that money we gave you into some medical supply companies…”

* * *

A few hours later, a van skidded to a stop on a crowded street. Its side door opened, and Rourke was shoved outside.

Sweat trickled down his face and a hacking cough escaped his lungs.

As the van sped away, an old woman approached Rourke.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Rourke’s eyes grew wide as the reality of the situation dawned on him.

“Stay back!” he shouted. “Get the fuck away from me!”

He tried to run, but his legs gave way. He dropped to his knees and began coughing uncontrollably again.

* * *

Maya’s boss sat smugly in his office, flanked by his guards. A screen showed Rourke being loaded into the back of an ambulance, onlookers surrounding him.

“And that, my friends…” Maya’s boss announced. “Is how you start a very profitable pandemic…”

At that moment, a cough materialised behind them. They all turned around and saw a sickly Maya standing in the doorway.

Her boss looked at her with a smirk.

“Come to get your revenge, Maya?” he mocked. “I hate to break it to you, but we’ve all been vaccinated. It’s gonna take more than a little cough to infect us.”

Maya smiled a knowing smile and, to everyone's surprise, she ran straight at them.

Taken aback, the guards didn’t have time to intervene.

Maya managed to grab her boss by the collar and then projectile vomited all over him. Her boss screamed so much that Maya even managed to puke in his open mouth.

Her boss freaked out, shoving Maya to the ground.

“Shoot her!” he screamed.

The guards unholstered their guns and unloaded their ammo into Maya. She died instantly, blood oozing out of her body.

Her boss grabbed a nearby towel and started wiping the regurgitation off.

“Get some extra doses of the vaccine, now!” he demanded.

However, when he turned around, his guards were just staring at him, already wearing their face masks.

“What the hell are you doing?!” their boss barked.

One of the guards stepped forward. “You’ll have to forgive us,” he began. “But we can’t afford to take any chances.”

The guards raised their guns in unison and fired a cascade of bullets at their boss.

Their boss slumped to the ground, crimson pouring from his wounds.

“This reminds me of that John Steinbeck line…” he lamented, as his life ebbed away. “The best laid plans of… something… something…?”

AFTER ALL

A figure cloaked in a shuffle suit moved through the industrial outskirts of the city. The suit obscured the wearer from head to toe, its randomly displayed patterns constantly shifting.

The person came to a desolate house, nestled between two factories. They entered through the back door and met the middle-aged Dillon in the kitchen.

“Here's the evidence, Sarge,” the disguised individual reported, their voice distorted by the suit.

They handed over a flash drive, which Dillon inserted into a handheld device.

“What’s our next move?” the suited figure inquired.

“Nothing for now,” Dillon replied, putting away the device. “Take some time off.”

“Thanks, Sarge,” the person replied, as they turned to leave.

“Actually,” Dillon added. “There’s one more thing...”

The figure paused, turning back to face Dillon.

“You know, it’s funny...” Dillon contemplated. “I can’t find any record of an officer in a shuffle suit working this case.”

The person stood motionless, their face undulating slightly under the suit.

“What do you mean, Sarge?” they asked, unease creeping into their voice.

“It’s my fault really,” Dillon explained. “I assumed since you were bringing me shit to do with the investigation, that you were filed and monitored. But there’s no log, no file, nothing.”

“That’s... strange,” the figure admitted, their tone carefully neutral.

“Strange doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Dillon countered.

A quiet thickened the air, broken only by the distant hum of machinery.

Dillon’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

The individual hesitated. “You know I can't tell you that.”

“You think this is a game?!” Dillon questioned.

“I can’t divulge that while I’m undercov-” the person attempted to answer.

However, they were interrupted by Dillon pulling a gun out of his jacket.

“Tell me who you are!” Dillon demanded, pointing his service weapon at the individual.

The figure slowly raised their hands, the shuffle suit's patterns still swirling. “Put the gun down, Sarge. You're making a mistake!”

“No more fuckin’ around!” Dillon declared. “Turn that shit off!”

“Alright, Sargent,” the figure agreed, as he motioned to deactivate the suit. “Just take it easy...”

However, instead of turning the suit off, the person quickly drew a concealed gun from inside it.

As he aimed it at Dillon, the air crackled with tension.

Before either could act, the adjoining door swung open. Another figure in a shuffle suit burst in, gun already drawn.

The second person fired, hitting a stunned Dillon directly in the forehead. Dillon collapsed, a pool of blood immediately forming underneath him.

The first figure turned to the second.

“Who the hell are you?!” he demanded.

“I’ve been watching your back,” the second person revealed, their voice also distorted. “Guess Dillon’s records didn’t show there’s two suits on the case…”

The first individual raised their gun and pointed it at the second. “My records don’t show that either…”

The second figure remained still, their shuffle suit’s patterns mirroring the tension between them.

“Let’s not do anything rash,” they advised. “I’m here to help you.”

The first figure’s grip on their weapon tightened. “If that’s true, why didn’t you make yourself known earlier?”

“I was ordered to keep a low profile,” the second figure explained. “To be a backup in case things went south, which they clearly have.”

“Prove it,” the first figure demanded. “Give me something to show you’re on my side.”

“OK,” the second person agreed. “But, you might be in for a surprise…”

The second figure raised their hand to their neck and deactivated their suit.

The patterns dissipated, revealing Dillon’s exact doppelgänger.

“What the fuck?!” the first figure exclaimed.

“You didn’t know Dillon was a clone?” the second man asked.

“I did,” the first person replied as he reached up to his neck. “But, they said they cloned him from me!”

The figure turned off their suit, showing that he too looked exactly the same as Dillon.

“Oh, fuck…” the second clone uttered, totally taken aback.

Both men stared at each other in complete shock, unsure what to do.

“Do you wanna get a drink?” the first clone finally offered.

“Sure,” the second clone responded. “But you’re buying...”

* * *

Both clones sat in a booth in grotty dive bar. The first clone had his shuffle suit turned on, while the second kept his deactivated.

“So,” the second clone began, pouring beer from a pitcher. “Who’s in charge of the case now?”

“No fucking clue” the first close replied. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

Just then, another person in a shuffle walked into the bar. He looked around and then approached the clones’ booth.

“I don’t want this to become a scene,” the figure started, voice garbled. “But I need to arrest both of you.”

“Why?!” the second clone exclaimed.

The third person in the suit sighed. “You know why…”

The first clone slipped his hand inside his suit and gripped the handle of his gun.

“And, what if we don’t wanna be arrested?” he questioned.

“Like I said,” the third figure offered. “That probably isn’t the best idea. If you come outside, you’ll see why.”

The two clones looked at each other, the first’s shuffle suit continuing to scramble.

The second clone shrugged. “Fuck it, should we go and see?”

The first clone let go of his gun and stood up. “After you guys…”

The two clones followed the third figure out of the bar.

They were met by six police cars, each with two gun-raised officers manning them. The officers were a fifty-fifty mix of shuffle suit wearers and Dillon clones.

The two clones raised their hands in surrender, knowing they had no other choice.

“Does it even matter that I don’t know who I am anymore?” the second clone asked the first.

“Do you think it even mattered in the first place?” the first clone retorted. “The is the future we were promised, after all…”

ONE LAST TIME

A smartly dressed man in his mid-thirties strolled into a sleek reception area. He sauntered towards the receptionist, who greeted him with a smile.

“Welcome to VR ESCAPE. Do you have an appointment?”

“Eckhart,” the man replied. “I’m here about the missing person case.”

The receptionist nodded, her fingers tapping on her keyboard. After a moment, she gestured towards a corridor.

“Pod three is ready for you. Follow the lights.”

Eckhart ventured down the narrow hallway, as neon strobes pulsed along the floor. He reached his designated room, where an oval VR pod stood.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” Eckhart muttered as he took his seat.

He put on the VR headset, and it activated, making the world around him disappear.

It reformed into a hyper-realistic version of the reception area he had just left.

Eckhart blinked, momentarily disoriented.

He strode towards the receptionist, and she greeted him with the same smile. “Welcome to VR ESCAPE. Do you have an appointment?”

Eckhart frowned. “The private detective? Missing person case?”

The receptionist checked her computer. “Pod three is ready for you. Follow the lights”

Eckhart walked down the identical hallway, his unease growing.

“This is… weird,” he muttered.

Reaching pod three, he sat down and donned the headset once more.

Again, he found himself in the VR reception area. This time though, a plant on the desk was different.

“Something’s really off…” Eckhart mumbled to himself.

The receptionist repeated her greeting, and Eckhart identified himself. She directed him to the pod and Eckhart walked down the hallway.

“Maybe something else’ll be different next time…?” he thought aloud.

Frustration mounting, he sat in the pod and put on the headset.

Back in the VR reception area, he noticed another minor change: a different piece of artwork on the wall.

“Is this something to do with getting out of this loop?!” he yelled at the receptionist.

When she replied with her familiar smile, Eckhart rushed over and grabbed her arm.

“What fuck is this!?” he demanded. “Who’s behind this shit?!”

“Pod three is ready for you,” she responded mechanically. “Follow the lights.”

Eckhart dejectedly trudged down the hall and sat in the pod.

“Think, Eckhart, think,” he grumbled.

He scanned the room and his eyes landed on a maintenance hatch he hadn’t noticed before.

Eckhart yanked the hatch open and crawled through. However, he found himself back in the same reception area.

“No, no, no...” he groaned, slumping against the wall. The receptionist approached, her expression completely unchanged.

“Welcome to VR ESCAPE. Do you have an appointment?”

“I can’t be stuck here...” Eckhart muttered, defeat creeping into his voice. He shambled back to the pod, his hands trembling as he put on the headset.

This time, Eckhart immediately noticed a ‘MISSING PERSON’ poster on the wall behind the desk.

He scrambled over to it, but his eyes grew wide with shock. The poster showed his own face looking back at him.

“No…” he uttered, as he stumbled back. “What the fuck is happening?!”

Horrified, he moved away further as the receptionist approached. “Pod three is ready for you. Follow the-”

“There has to be a way out!” Eckhart screamed, searching the reception frantically.

Finding nothing, he started smashing everything in sight.

“None of this real!” he bellowed, as the receptionist looked vacantly on.

His energy spent; Eckhart staggered down the corridor and sat in the pod.

He considered the headset for a few moments, but then smashed it repeatedly into the ground. With the headset completely destroyed, Eckhart leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, Eckhart was back in the VR reception area. He looked around and almost everything was back to normal.

But this time, an old man stood behind the desk instead of the female receptionist.

“Who are you?” Eckhart questioned, his voice trembling.

The older man smiled sadly. “I’m you, Eckhart. We’ve been here a very long time.”

Eckhart stepped closer, horror dawning on his face. “No... that can’t be right.”

“You’ve always been the missing person,” the old man revealed. “You’ve never left.”

Eckhart fell to his knees, realization crashing down on him.

“I have to get out...” he sobbed, covering his face with his hands.

The old man stepped from behind the desk and stood over him.

“Do you have an appointment?” he inquired.

Eckhart looked up, tears in his eyes. “I’m Eckhart... Missing person case.”

The old man helped Eckhart to his feet and guided him to the corridor. “Pod three is ready for you. Follow the lights.”

Eckhart walked down the hallway, tears gushing down his face.

“This can’t be happening...” he choked as he sat down in the pod.

“Please,” he pleaded, pulling the headset down over his eyes. “Just one last time…”

MINE TO LOSE

Officer Hamilton patrolled the alleyways of the city, the night air thick with tension. She turned a corner and spotted a teenager spray-painting a wall.

“Do you know you can go to prison for graffiti now?” Hamilton intoned.

The spray painter froze and slowly turned to face her. “Please, I didn’t mean any harm. Can’t you let this one slide?”

Hamilton studied the spray painter. After a few moments she sighed.

“Alright,” she began. “I’ll let you go this time. But if I catch you again, I’ll have no choice but to arrest you. Understand?”

Relief washed over the spray painter's face. “Thanks! I promise you’ll never see me here again!”

As the spray painter ran off, Hamilton glanced at the freshly imbued message on the wall.

“ONE HUMAN, ONE LIFE!” it proudly declared.

As Hamilton shook her head, her radio suddenly crackled to life.

“Sergeant!” a female voice announced. “We have a situation at the detention centre! Please respond immediately!”

“On my way!” Hamilton responded, as she bounded towards her squad car.

* * *

Hamilton arrived at the detention centre and hurried to the main office. She was met by Officer Edwards, a younger female colleague.

“What’s happening?!” Hamilton demanded.

Edwards handed her a folder, her expression grim. “We’ve got a clone awaiting destruction.”

“So?” Hamilton questioned. “Just fill out the paperwork and get it taken to the incinerat-”

“But…” Edwards interrupted. “It’s your clone!”

Hamilton’s face fell in shock. “What?!”

Edwards took a deep breath. “She beat a non-violent protestor to death. We had to cross-reference the surveillance footage to make sure, but… there’s no doubt about it.”

Hamilton opened the folder and saw her own face staring back at her.

She took a few moments to process the information, her face becoming a blank slate.

“I’ll give the order…” she said. “But I need to see her first.”

* * *

Hamilton entered the detention area, where her clone waited inside a cell.

“What happened?!” Hamilton demanded.

Tears welled up in her clone’s eyes. “I dunno! I just had enough of the protests, and I snapped!”

She wrapped her hands around the bars between her and Hamilton.

“You gotta help me!” the clone pleaded. “You’re the only one who can get me outta here!”

Hamilton looked away, struggling to maintain her composure. “You know I can’t. Police clones have to be treated the same as any other clone!”

“Please!” Hamilton’s clone begged. “Just don’t let them destroy me!”

“I’m sorry,” Hamilton uttered, her voice cracking.

She left the detention cell, barely managing to hold herself together.

* * * 

Back in the main office, Hamilton watched a CCTV monitor.

“Take her through,” she instructed into her shoulder radio. “Make sure it’s quick.”

The monitor showed her clone being pulled down a corridor by two other officers. She kicked and screamed, her eyes wide with horror.

The officers reached the end of the passageway and dragged Hamilton’s clone through a steel door.

“Are you OK?” Edwards asked as she approached Hamilton.

“Do you think I got too arrogant Edwards?” Hamilton vacantly replied.

Edwards looked at Hamilton with surprise. “What do you mean?”

“They offered to clone me because I was one of the city’s best officers,” Hamilton disclosed. “But I didn’t think it would come to this…”

Edwards reached out a hand to comfort her, but Hamilton walked away.

“I’ll be in my office,” she instructed. “I’m not to be disturbed…”

* * * 

Hamilton sat at her desk, tears pouring down her cheeks.

She held a picture of her and her clone, proudly smiling together.

Hamilton put the picture down and took out her gun. She closed her eyes and pressed the muzzle against her temple.

“Forgive me,” she sputtered, as she wrapped her finger around the trigger. “I thought we could change this city for the better…”

At that moment, Edwards burst into the room. Seeing what was happening, she jumped over the desk and tackled Hamilton.

Both women hit the floor, causing Hamilton’s gun to discharge.

They lay motionless for a few moments, Edwards lying on top of Hamilton.

“Oh my god…” Hamilton spluttered. “Thank you, Edwards!”

Edwards didn’t respond or move. Hamilton pushed her off, revealing a bullet hole in Edwards’ upper chest.

“No!” Hamilton shouted, as she knelt down and started administrating chest compressions.

* * * 

Hamilton stood in a court dock, clothed in a prison jumpsuit. The judge sat across the room, a looming presence in his suit and gown.

“For the charge of aggravated manslaughter in the second degree,” the judge began. “I sentence you to a minimum of fifteen years imprisonment.”

Hamilton wept quietly, using her cuffed hands to dry her eyes.

“In closing,” the judge continued. “It’s clear from these proceedings that both your promotion to Sargent and your inclusion in the police cloning program was a grave error, which will hopefully never be repeated.”

The judge gestured for the court guards to take Hamilton away. The guards took her a holding cell in the depths of the court building.

“What happened?” Hamilton asked herself as she sat alone in her desolate cell. “Since when was life mine to lose…?”

DIDN’T SEE THAT ONE COMING

Samuels sat behind his desk, reading a day-old newspaper. His office door creaked open, and an elegantly dressed woman stepped inside.

"Are you available for a case?" the woman asked, approaching the desk.

Samuels eyed her warily. "Maybe…”

The woman settled into the chair opposite him. "I’m Echo. I need you to find something for me."

"Go on…" Samuels prompted, folding up his newspaper.

“My brother, Dr. Calavicci, died recently,” Echo explained. “His last invention has gone missing, and I want you to track it down for me.”

“What interest is it to you?” Samuels questioned.

“Let’s just say it has sentimental value….” Echo eluded.

Samuels thought for a moment, turning over the request in his mind. “Alright, I'll take the job. But, I want half my fee upfront.”

* * *

Samuels retraced Dr. Calavicci's most recent activities. He questioned Calavicci's former colleagues and delved into the scientific community's gossip.

It wasn't long before a cryptic clue emerged; a clandestine auction in the seedier part of town.

The details weren’t completely clear, but it was rumoured to involve rare scientific artifacts.

Under the cover of night, Samuels broke into the auction house and explored its dank corridors.

Amongst the eclectic mix of contraband and curiosities, a padlocked cabinet caught his eye. Samuels decided the best way in was to smash the lock off with the butt of his gun.

There, nestled within layers of protective padding, lay Dr. Calavicci's enigmatic creation.

Finished in gleaming chrome, it took the form of intricately designed headset.

"What the hell is this?" Samuels wondered aloud.

* * *

Back in his dark office, Samuels sat at his desk, not even bothering to take off his jacket or holster.

He donned the device and it flickered to life. Gradually, a surreal array of scenes simultaneously entered Samuels’ mind.

His meeting with Echo earlier played out in infinite permutations, each time slightly different the last.

In one, Echo spoke of her sister's death; in another, her father's passing.

Some permutations showed them swapping roles, where Echo became Samuels and he was the mysterious figure seeking the device.

He then saw another set of visions where he found the device in different locations.

In one, he discovered it hidden in the dusty loft space of an abandoned tyre factory.

In another, it lay near a filthy waste duct in the city’s sewer system.

* * *

Morning arrived uninvited, prompting Samuels to finally take off the device.

He looked at it in awe, hardly believing such a thing existed.

“This is incredible…” he muttered to himself.

However, he was startled out of his admiration by a knock at the door. He got up and unlocked it, revealing Echo standing on the other side.

"Did you find it?" she asked.

Samuels stepped aside, revealing the device siting on his desk. Echo gleefully rushed over to it.

“Great work,” she congratulated. “I’ll wire the rest of your payment tonight!”

With a satisfied smile, Echo walked towards the door, clutching the device.

However, before she could leave, Samuels drew his gun.

“I can’t let you take it,” he warned. “No-one else can have it but me.”

“Fine,” she uttered. “But there’s no need for guns.”

As Samuels stepped forward to grab the device, Echo fumbled it.

“Sorry…” she gestured.

As Samuels bent down pick it up, Echo delved into her handbag and produced her own pistol.

“The headset’s mine and mine only,” she countered.

She pointed her gun at Samuels’ chest, the two now locked in a lethal standoff.

In the heartbeat that followed, Samuels and Echo simultaneously pulled their triggers.

Samuels's bullet found its mark, hitting Echo in her right lung. Unfortunately for her, Echo’s gun jammed and didn’t fire.

She fell to the floor, her lifeless body leaking crimson.

Samuels holstered his gun and, not even moving from the spot, he put on the headset again.

Visions consumed him once more. The torrent of once-potential realities intertwined, leaving Samuels breathless.

He experienced his and Echo’s standoff in an endless multitude of possibilities.

In one version, his gun jammed, and Echo’s gun fired. In the next, both of their guns jammed, leaving them dumfounded.

Each proceeding permutation was so vivid that Samuels’ knees grew weak, forcing him to sit down.

As the device continued, the visions began to merge relentlessly. Each scenario became indistinguishable from the next and Samuels became overwhelmed.

His vision blurred and blood oozed out of his nose.

Just as Samuels felt like his brain was about to explode, he reached up and tore the device off.

However, he was stunned to find that Echo wasn’t lying dead on the floor in front him. There was no blood and no ejected shell casing.

"She hasn’t even been here," Samuels whispered, disbelief mingling with terror. “She hasn’t come to collect it yet.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Samuels froze momentarily, before approaching the door and unlocking it.

Echo stood waiting on the other side.

"Did you find it?" she asked.

Instead of stepping aside, Samuels walked back to his desk.

"This thing’s too dangerous," he began, picking up the headset. "I'm handing it over to the police…"

“Sorry,” Echo responded. "But I can't let that happen."

She quickly pulled her gun from her handbag, as Samuels drew his pistol from its holster.

They stood, eyes locked, weapons aimed at each other.

"I've seen something just like this," Samuels divulged. "One, or both of our guns is gonna jam.”

"I don't care…” Echo replied stoically.

They pulled their triggers, their guns firing at exactly the same time.

Both bullets propelled from their respective barrels and buried themselves into their opponents’ chests.

Samuels and Echo both collapsed to the floor.

Samuels, now soaked in his own blood, looked at the device lying next to him.

“Shit,” he managed, with his final rasping breaths. “Guess I didn’t see that one coming…”