Chrono Inquisitor (Gods Be Damned)

by Rien Reigns

  Somehow I knew that just like those hotels had left me unsatisfied, so would this diner.

  Can’t be that bad though, I thought, attempting to reassure myself. They supposedly serve a real cup o' Joe.

  My optimistic side tried to alter my state of mind to manifest a pleasant fate, but my pessimistic self was holding the reins as of late.

  I pushed my way through the door continuing on the path I’d already chosen because I was too hungry, and ultimately too lazy, to either change my outlook or the venue.

  Standing in the micro lobby the first thing I noticed wasn’t the trite appearance of a really old-fashioned diner with checkerboard floors. Instead, it was that I wasn’t overwhelmed by the scent of animal-based products being sizzled and seared. Sure, my nose detected what was supposed to be cooked mammalian and avian carcasses, but my nose knew well enough, it was nothing more than imitation hippy vegan scientist concocted bullshit.

  Disappointed, I made an about-face maneuver, intending to leave. I stopped where I stood, not taking another step, because outside the diner was Faris Shakir Rashad, my most recent assignment, walking down the sidewalk. Still a free man.

  Why the hell hadn’t the Cleaners picked him up yet, I wondered.

  Not wanting to be recognized by Rashad since I was no longer undercover and not wearing the attire I had adopted while investigating him, I looked around for a place to flee if the guy come through the door.

  I spotted a washroom to my right which would work.

  But I didn’t need to use it for cover.

  Rashad kept on walking.

  With a sigh of relief I did another 180° turn and made the final decision to stay.

  The hostess, a brown-eyed brunette slightly on the plump side, obviously unable to afford the fat burning myte upgrade, smiled at me and with a friendly disposition said, “Good first shift, sir. Welcome to Francine’s. Will others be accompanying you?”

  I removed my shades and put them away in compartment 11. I was glad she either hadn’t seen the scene outside a minute ago, or she had enough decency not to acknowledge it. Even with her little bit of pudginess here and there I thought she was quite attractive. Had it been any other day I would have instantly begun casting my incantation of sexual desire upon her. Unlucky for her, I’d awoken on the wrong side of Wednesday.

  “Solitary,” I said, but then I happened to glance over at all the other lonely individuals who were sitting on red swivel stools at the long black counter - the solitary designated seating area. Just one more thing I hated about this city. The majority of them were men and looked to be standard laborers in their assorted colored coveralls, signifying their status in society. Their heads were down and they unenthusiastically shoveled food into their mouths.

  Maybe some flirting would put me in a better mood, I thought. Who knows, maybe I’ll even get lucky.

  I looked over at the booths and saw an empty one at the far end of the diner next to a gaggle of girls who were flirting with their waiter - who wasn’t remotely as attractive as me. I looked back at the counter and was conscious of myself giving a slight headshake. I didn’t want to join the drones and make myself any more depressed than I already was.

  I turned back to the hostess. She was looking down at a sheetscreen. Seconds later, she told me, “Seat S6,” and pointed to a vacant stool.

  I gave her my best smile and said “I’ll take a booth, please.”

  Her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I swear I recorded you saying, ‘solitary.’”

  I decided to try casting one of my seduction spells and leaned in a little closer. “I’m sure you get this a lot, but you have beautiful eyes.”

  She gave me a flirtatious smile along with a flutter of her eyelashes. The multi-colors of her mascara and eyeliner reminded me of a butterfly I’d seen in a museum over a decade ago.

  Then her smile faded as she obviously listened to her CerA inform her I had indeed said, ‘Solitary.’

  “Wait, you did say-”

  Smiling wider I placed my hand on hers. “I did. It’s just,” I sighed trying to come up with a good excuse.

  I just wanted some fucking coffee and a decent meal, damn it.

  I forced myself to keep smiling. A second later I came up with something. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I’m claustrophobic. Sitting at a counter shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers sends me into a panic attack. Don’t ask me why. I’ve seen dozens of shrinks and paid for every sort of mental myte upgrade there is, but alas, nothing has worked. Do you think you could help a fella out and let me sit in a booth?”

  She didn’t say anything immediately. She just looked at me like she was assessing my statement. I knew I’d taken too long with a response.

  Finally she smiled and gave a small laugh accompanied by a little hand wave of dismissal, adding “Aren’t you the kidder.”

  Fuck.

  Just then I heard movement at the door. I turned my head just enough to see who was entering. I was relieved to find it wasn’t Rashad. Instead it was an older looking man with salt-and-pepper hair. I didn’t recognize him so I decreased my guard one point of paranoia.

  “Good first shift, Mr. Jacobin. Your usual?” the hostess said, like I’d suddenly disappeared.

  “Indeed, Margerie. May I be mistaken, but is that a new hair fixation?”

  “I knew you’d notice.” Pink appeared on her cheeks. “S7 is ready when you are.”

  “Ecstatic,” he said.

  The man moved around me like I was some common everyday obstruction, approached what’s-her-name and planted a too friendly kiss on the side of her face.

  The pink of her cheeks darkened to a rosy red. She turned her head trying to hide it from Mr. Friendly, and seeing me, remembered I existed.

  “If you’d care to follow Mr. Jacobin he’ll show you to your seat.”

  Her acknowledgement of me apparently granted Mr. Oblivious the powers of observation to notice my presence, because the man turned to me then, hand outstretched, and said, “Good first shift, sir.”

  I didn’t return the civil gesture. Instead, I paid Mr. Jackass in kind for his previous behavior by ignoring he existed.

  Hungry, desperately in need of some coffee, but not wanting to sit with the dregs of society, I was really starting to get pissed with how my day was turning out.

  “If you’ll show me to my booth, I’d like to order already,” I said, looking into Margerie’s eyes with all seriousness. I was done playing nice.

  The crimson of her cheeks appeared to march its way to her pupils. I imagined she would have incinerated me with her eyes if she could.

  “It wasn’t all that funny the first time you said it, and now you insult Mr. Jacobin. I hereby refuse your patronage.” She waved her hand at me like she was shooing away a measly dog. “You have one minute to evacuate the premises before I call the authorities.”

  It seemed everyone wanted to call the cops on me. What the fuck?

  I reached into compartment 6 and revealed my authority to her - a Chrono Inquisitor badge. “No need, I’m already here. Now show me to my booth.”

  Mr. Jacobin stepped between me and Margerie, and piped in with, “What’s going on here?”

  Margerie answered. “He’s demanding to be seated at a booth when he’s alone.”

  Mr. Jacobin hmm’d and nodded. “You’re an Inquisitor, huh? Hmm. Well, that still doesn’t permit you to sit at a booth when you’re all alone and there is an open seat at the counter.”

  “Who might you be?” I asked with a hint of amusement.

  “Conrad Jacobin,” he said, and then added, “Esquire.”

  Great, a lawyer. Question was, what kind of legal upgrades did his CerA have? Was he a partner, or a measly associate? What’s his specialty?

  “So you’re a lawyer,” I said. With a quick glance around the place, I noticed there was only one available booth but several solitary seats were available. If it had been the opposite I might have been able t
o finagle something. Biding my time I asked, “I’m new to this area. Explain to me why I can’t sit at a booth?”

  Mr. Jacobin proceeded to spout off city regulations protecting business interests, reasonable profits, overpopulation, turnaround, ad nauseum.

  While he was busy lawyering me, I was working on doing the same.

  ‹“Kali, what do you got for me?”›

  ‹You do not have a valid justification to sit at a booth.›

  ‹“Who’s fucking side are you on? You have the upgrades of a Philosopher King. Lawyer up and find me an excuse.”›

  A second later she said,‹You could randomly audit an individual and claim that sitting in a booth is necessary in order to conduct the investigation.›

  ‹“Perfect.”›

  Mr. Jacobin was still going on and on. “-you have two options: do as Margerie says by following me to your assigned seat, or take your patronage somewhere else.” The man then moved slightly closer to me in what could be interpreted as an intimidating manner.

  I still had my badge in hand. I contemplated shoving it down his throat but decided against it.

  “Please,” I said. “I eat people like you for breakfast. Are you by chance on the menu? I’m famished.”

  Mr. Jacobin stepped closer, still playing the big shot. “Leave.”

  I gave him a contemptuous smile and stepped so we were nearly touching noses. “No,” I said.

  “Then by the authority granted to me by this city, I hereby place you under citizen’s arrest.” Mr. Jacobin tried to grab my wrist.

  I grabbed his instead.

  It was on.

  I brought my badge up to the asshole’s face. “Maybe you need your eyesight altered. Here. In case you still can’t see what it says, I’ll read it for you.

  ‘Department of Examination and Inquiry

  - Tribunal Yeomen -

  U.R.N.A./ChronoGen Inc.

  In. Yan #5-9-7’

  “What that means is: I’m a fucking god to you. By the authority granted to me by the Commonwealth of Colorado and ChronoGen Inc. I am conducting an audit on an individual within this establishment. Now, get out of my face, keep your damn mouth shut, and let me do my job.”

  I released Mr. Jacobin and waited just in case he was stupid and had a death wish. He didn’t. He rubbed his wrist, gave me a look of ill will, nodded to Margerie, turned, and then silently left.

  With one person in their place, I turned back to Margerie.

  “My booth.”

  Fear had found its way into her eyes and she quivered slightly. Instead of speaking she simply raised her arm and pointed a trembling finger to the empty booth at the end.

  Just like with the IRS of old, everyone feared an audit. There were so many laws on the books only a platinum level upgraded lawyer could navigate the complex workings of the ChronoGen/U.R.N.A. legal system. The beauty was, everyone broke the law in some fashion or another.

  The patrons who had been close enough to hear my reason for requesting a booth quickly got up and left.

  Showing I did have some civility I tipped my hat to them and wished them an eventful day.

  Satisfied, I proceeded to my newly designated seat.

  2: Chaos Monkeys & Coffee

  Inquisitors Jurisdiction

  Section 84

  “Any Inquisitor who abuses his position by asking for, receiving, or agrees to receive, any bribe, emolument, gratuity, reward, or anything deemed of value, except as authorized by law while undercover and during an investigation, is guilty of a misdemeanor and will be punished to the full extent of the law for abusing their position.”

  I placed my hat on the hook of the bench and slid in to the side of the booth which allowed me an unobstructed visual on the entrance. I was fairly certain neither Mr. Jacobin, nor Rashad was going to come through the door, but still, it was a good idea to keep an eye on anyone who did.

  Finally sitting down, I reached into the vault, compartment 23, and extracted an 8cm x 8cm square piece of metal three centimeters thick. I placed it on the table and pushed a biometric button in the lower right corner. It expanded in size till its height matched its other dimensions.

  The surface of the tabletop flickered from a menu screen to black as the cube and table synced. When the red light on the cube turned green, indicating a secured connection, the familiar logo of a transparent blue die bouncing around appeared on the table. When it stopped it landed with the 3 side showing, but instead of white dots they were I’s, which then expanded to say,

  ‘Intelligent

  Informational

  Interfacing.’

  The words merged together then faded, leaving I3, the name of the manufacturer. One of the many subsidiaries of ChronoGen Inc.

  Realizing I hadn’t ordered yet I minimized the cube’s display window and brought back up the diner menu. Perusing the offerings my suspicions were confirmed. There weren’t any real animal products listed. I was really craving some bacon. It’d been at least a month since I’d had that salty, greasy, taste of carnivorous pleasure making love to my taste buds. On the bright side of things, true to Kali’s word, the place had real coffee. Though I doubted it was as good as my private stock. But, then again, that was to be expected.

  There wasn’t anything appealing on the menu. I ordered my coffee along with a carbotein scramble and fruitrient spread, hoping the place would prepare it better than the last one I’d had. But my hopes weren’t high.

  I looked up as a group entered the diner.

  Local authorities.

  ‹“I thought I told you to take care of the situation,”› I said to Kali, internally.

  ‹You did, and I followed your instructions.›

  ‹“Then why am I staring at a handful of cops?”›

  ‹I do not know.›

  Great. One more thing to delay me getting some coffee.

  I put my hands behind my head and waited for the five officers to approach me.

  After a minute of watching them talk to Margerie, she seated them at the empty booth where I’d scared off the previous occupants.

  Since it seemed they weren’t there for me I went back to my business. I pushed the glowing die icon on the table face and my I3 resumed control of the display. A message, ‘Notifications Pending’ dominated the screen. I’d forgotten to take Kali out of ‘Do not disturb’ mode.

  “Kali, resume active architecture.”

  ‹Resuming. You have several messages pending. Two messages are audible. Three are textual. None are dually sensible.›

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that last remark. “Ain’t that the devil’s truth? Play the audio messages internally.”

  Kali started playing the oldest message first. I didn’t want anyone eavesdropping so I had the audio played internally instead of through the speakers at the table. This was the norm for myself, as well as most other people. Though unlike most others, I had the habit of speaking to my CerA aloud more often than not.

  ‹“Morning sunshine,”› the voice said. It was Frank, my boss. ‹“Have you seen the headlines this morning? No, I guess not. You’re probably still asleep, it being your day off and all. Either that, or you’ve forgotten to enable your messaging system. Anywho, give me a tickle when you’re up and active.”›

  “Delete. Next message.”

  It was Frank again. ‹“Going to sleep the day away? How are you my number one when it seems all you do is sleep? Anywho, got a new assignment for ya, sandman. Give me a tickle me when you decide to join the living.”›

  “Delete.”

  A new assignment. Thank the gods.

  I tapped the ‘Notifications’ tab and it brought up the messages of text. The first message was from my bank informing me of some new financial – whatever. I barely glanced at it and passed it on for Kali to deal with. The next message was actually a spam-ad promoting tech upgrades. I deleted it since I was always up-to-date. Being an Inquisitor I got tech before most people even knew about it. And I usually g
ot it for free.

  The last message read:

  What does an Inquisitor fear?

  Death? The Devil? God?

  It’s not what it seems. It’s not what you think. Someone is lying. It’s not just the fink. Can’t turn away. You’re in too deep. Protect what you’ve sowed, so that you can still reap.

  - Run a Chaos Monkey

  “Kali, who sent this?”

  ‹Origin unknown. It was sent through a ventriloquist system. I can attempt to track its path of origin and see if there are any clues as to the identity of the sender. If you desire.›

  I thought about it for a second, then said, “It’s probably a carrot, and the last thing I need is you chasing ghosts, sucking up your resources.” I was going to tell Kali to delete the message, but it did hit a little too close to home for comfort.

  Officially, I was a Chrono Inquisitor, an undercover Chrono/myte investigator. I dealt with all sorts of cases. Anything involving abusing and manipulating mytes, an Inquisitor investigated.

  My job ran the gamut, but most of the time it was cases of insurance fraud. People trying to scam the system so they wouldn’t have to pay higher insurance premiums. Or, it was people illegally downloading myte upgrades they hadn’t paid for, generally nothing too serious.

  Occasionally though, I dealt with nefarious hackers who were pushing the boundaries of what mytes were capable of, but those cases were rare. The Four Horsemen generally dealt with those. Someday I hoped to join their ranks. But that meant one of them had to retire first, and it didn’t look like that was going to happen anytime soon.

  No one retired anymore. Not permanently, anyway. Sabbaticals. That’s what they’d come to be called. Work thirty to forty years, save enough money, take sabbatical for five to ten - depending on how much you’d saved and what you did during your time off. Then it was back to work to start the cycle anew.