Preservation Protocol
John Prescott
Copyright © 2017 John Prescott
All Rights Reserved.
ISBN:
978-1975864293
In Memory of
TOM MURPHY
“Friend to all on Earth, now in Heaven.”
1
Detective Max Kincaid stared up and up at the shiny blue glass façade of the Synthetics International building off in the distance. The late midday sun was peeking around its side. He flared out his trench coat as he hoofed it down Trenton Boulevard.
The original age of the trench coat-wearing private Dick was a good 150 years in the past. He felt it was about time to bring it back. There weren’t that many people around in 2097 that would call him out for dressing like a stereotype. That suited him just fine.
As far as Max was concerned, he was carrying on a fine tradition. He tipped his fedora to an older lady as he passed her by on the sidewalk. She smiled. Most girls saw the charm of his getup, which always helped things.
He had to admit that today the coat was just burning him up. He’d been on the beat all day, and didn’t have much to show for it. The mark he’d been chasing had proven especially slippery. All he wanted to do now was sit.
Sam’s Diner, home of the world’s best coffee, and his favorite place to escape from work. He pulled open the old-timey door and absent-mindedly held it for a bot toting a doggy bag. The white and blue biped nodded and said “Thank you.” Max nodded back.
Most people nowadays went out of their way to ignore the existence of the robots around them. He couldn’t help but be polite to them. They were programmed to be polite to him. Max was programmed to be polite by his mother. He figured, what’s the difference?
Synthetics were a different matter. For him, Synthetics fell neatly into the uncanny valley in more than just looks, and deserved all the scorn he had for them. Let’s just say they were a little too human for his tastes.
Max shook the thought out of his head and dropped himself down on the stool at the far end of the counter. He fit right in at Sam’s Diner. With shining chrome, vinyl-lined booths, and art-deco flair, the diner hit all the hallmarks of a mid-twentieth century eatery.
Samantha Dee, owner and sole proprietor of Sam’s Diner, still looked stunning in her waitress’ outfit for a gal pushing forty. She was a little old for Max, but he reveled in flirting with her whenever he came in. “Well if it isn’t New Wave City’s prettiest little thing.”
Sam smirked and leaned on the counter in front of Max. “The prettiest, am I? You must be angling for another free coffee.” She winked and flicked his fedora.
Max smoothed his dark brown hair and settled his hat back into place. “I just can’t help but point out the obvious. I will take that coffee, though.”
Sam sauntered over to the coffee station and grabbed a mug. “You’re going to spoil me, Max Kincaid.”
“You never call me the prettiest!” A pink and gray female robot rolled over to Max. She glided on a wheel attached to a single leg that emerged from her molded skirt. She winked a glowing blue eye at him, ponytail swinging.
Max smirked. “Fine, you’re pretty cute for a bot.”
“That’s more like it!” The bot spun around and shot back across the diner.
“She’s in a good mood.”
Sam shot Max a smile over her shoulder. “You ever know Starla to be any other way?” The detective harrumphed. She placed the coffee in front of Max and leaned in. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Max grimaced. “That obvious, huh?”
“You may only have one good eye, but it tells me all your secrets every time.”
Max turned away. One iris was pale green, but the other was turquoise, artificial. “Trying to cheer me up again, are ya?”
Sam sniffed. “Oh, don’t be like that. I think it makes you look exotic.”
“It makes me look like a freak.”
“Exotic, freak… Same difference.” Sam flashed her signature smile. Max smirked. That grin could melt an ice cube on Mt. Everest.
Max sighed. “I’ve been tailing a mark all day. I’ll be damned if I can keep him nailed down. Victor Esposito… You know him?”
Sam stared at the white tiled ceiling for a moment before shaking her head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. If you are looking for him, that’s probably an okay thing.”
“He’s just a peon. Think he’s been cleaning cash for Don Adesso.”
“Jeez, Max! Maybe you’re better off leaving him alone. I don’t think you want to be getting on Adesso’s bad side.”
Max shook his head and smirked. “Part of the job. I nab Esposito and get him to sing… I might be able to put Adesso somewhere he won’t be able to touch me.”
Sam leaned on the counter. “You know as well as I do that bars aren’t gonna keep Adesso from doing what he wants, sweetheart.”
Max stared at his coffee. “Yeah… It’s complicated… Part of the job.”
“It might be part of the job, but so is taking care of yourself. You look tired. Why don’t you call it a day?”
“I suppose you’re right. There’s a mook downtown Adesso hangs out with sometimes. I might be able to chat him up… You’re kidding me.” Max stared out the window at a passing black sedan.
He focused with his synthetic left eye. It cast a blue-violet hue on the scene outside. The lens snap-focused on the plate on the back of the sleek sedan and zoomed. He tapped a finger on his left temple.
A list of plate numbers appeared in the bottom-left of his vision. Each number glowed white in rapid succession, finally stopping on one in particular. It was a match. “Well, hot shit.”
Max stood up, eyes still trained on the quickly-disappearing car. “Put it on the tab, Sam. I got a hit!”
Sam watched him stride out the door and sighed. “Just like all the others. Here one minute and gone the next.”
Max jumped up to a sprint once he was outside. He grabbed for a flat, silver bar nestled in the interior pocket of his trench coat. He ran out into the street. An oncoming sports car screeched its tires, the driver blaring its horn.
He pointed the bar at the back of the vehicle like a magic wand. He clicked a button on top with his thumb. A pop like from an air rifle issued from the end of the bar.
A small, black projectile rocketed towards the back of the black sedan. It smacked into the bumper of the car with a quiet, yet satisfying thunk. It stuck fast where it had hit.
Max slipped a smile and quickly came to a stop. He bent over and spit, breathing hard. Distance running was for rookies. A silver SUV came to a stop behind the detective. The driver laid on the horn.
The detective held out a staying hand. The driver leaned out. “Get outta the road, jackass!”
On a good day, Max would have flashed his badge and made a scene. This wasn’t a good day. Instead, he threw his hands out to either side, smiling. He walked to the sidewalk. Slowly.
The SUV driver saluted Max with one finger as he passed by. Max made sure to smile and wave. The driver cursed. Max’s smile widened.
Max turned his attention to his wristwatch. He twisted the bezel. The display shifted to a map of the area. A red, faintly pulsing dot traveled down a street. “You son of a bitch. I got you.”
He looked around to get his bearings and jogged across the street. He got into a well-aged metallic blue sedan. He settled into the familiar blue plush driver’s seat. He pressed the start button.
A pleasing female voice said “Welcome!” as the vehicle’s engine turned over. The engine roared to life, sputtered, then died. The female voice responded by saying “Error!”
Max grimaced. “Error, my ass.” He pressed the start button again. The engi
ne once more roared to life. It stayed running this time. “That’s my girl.”
He looked at the half-dozen red and yellow lights illuminated on the instrument panel and frowned. Classic cars: So much to love. He tapped the touch screen in the middle of the dash and pulled into traffic.
The same blue map that had appeared on his watch was now displayed on the screen in his car. The red dot was now five blocks away, but had stopped moving. Max smirked when he saw the address.
He pulled the old bird into a parking spot across the street from the old hotel. It was a hotel only in name, now used mainly as a staging ground for a mafia-run escort service. It looked like old Vic was looking to get lucky in more than one way.
Max turned off the car and made himself comfortable. He had a feeling it would be a little while before Esposito came back out. He flicked on a baseball game and waited.
The drone of the game and the warmth of the sun had almost done Max in an hour later. The sound of the doors of the main entry to the hotel sliding open snapped him out of his stupor. Max sat up in his seat, grinning.
Victor Esposito came strolling out, all smiles. Some dolled-up floozy was hanging off his left shoulder. They casually walked to Victor’s glossy black sedan.
Max fished the silver bar he used earlier out of his coat pocket and waited. Victor passed off the floozy and gestured to the passenger door. He then walked to his own side. Max smirked. “What a gentleman.”
Victor fired up the sedan. Max held his breath and waited. As soon as Victor rolled the sedan forward, Max pressed a button on the side of the silver bar. A whump! sound came from the back of the sedan, closely followed by a loud crack from the front.
First the passenger door opened, then the driver door. Victor’s floozy sprung out looking left and right. Victor popped out next and punched the rear door. “It’s a brand-new car! I don’t know what in the hell… Where are you going!”
The floozy ran back to the hotel and disappeared back inside. Victor cursed and hit the door even harder, leaving a dent. Victor yelped and grabbed his hand. It was all Max could do to keep from busting up laughing.
Victor looked around, exasperated. His head stopped at the sight of Max’s car. Then he locked eyes with Max. “Shit.” Max flung the door open and stood up, drawing his plasma pistol. “Hold it right there, Esposito!”
Victor’s eyes grew wide. “You! Fuck you!” He turned and started running.
“Damn it. They always run.” Max squeezed off two shots. The red-orange energy bursts rocketed from the pistol and slammed uselessly into the hotel behind Victor.
He watched helplessly as Esposito ran into a crowd of people. “You son of a bitch.” Max threw himself back into his car and slammed the door. He pressed the start button. The engine caught and kept running.
“Thank you!” Max slammed the car into drive and hit the gas. A buzzer sounded. “Seatbelts!” It was the pleasant female voice again. “Damn it!” Max rocketed the buckle home and laid tracks. The female voice thanked him.
Victor had already made it up the block and around the corner. Max caught sight of him and blew through an intersection. He distantly heard screeching tires and blaring horns.
Max leveled his pistol and took a couple more shots. The first went wild over Victor’s head. The other plowed into the back of an old lady. She yelped in fright and dropped on the spot.
He threw the car in park and bounded out, ignoring the horns coming from behind him. “Give it up, Esposito!” Victor took off into the crowd again, shoving people out of his way as he went.
Max dropped to one knee beside the old lady and felt for a pulse. A young man stared at him, mouth agape. “Is she dead?”
Max shook his head. “Knocked out. She got stunned.” He flashed his badge. “New Wave P-D. Call 911, would ya?” The kid nodded numbly.
He sprung to his feet, looking around wildly. A man to his left jabbed a thumb in the direction behind him. “He went that way, officer!”
“Thanks.” Max tipped his hat and took off running. He scanned the crowd desperately with his synthetic eye. A floating black box jumped from face to face, scanning for Victor Esposito.
He slowed as he continued, slowly sweeping his head back and forth. He had nearly given up when the box suddenly snapped across his vision and started flashing. He snapped his head to the right.
Victor’s eyes grew wide in surprise. He fired off two wild shots from a Colt 45 and began to run again. “Damn it, Esposito!” Max followed, trying to find a clear shot and mentally adding attempted murder to Victor’s growing list of charges.
Victor careened into the middle of an intersection. A garbage truck swerved, tires squealing. He jerked around it, watching as it nearly tipped over. Max slipped around it, now sprinting.
Both car and foot traffic were much thinner in this area. Victor had nowhere to hide. This was a foot race, now. That didn’t mean Max couldn’t cheat. “NWPD! Stop that man!”
Most people turned around and stared dumbly. One older man ineffectively pushed on Victor as he passed. Max swerved around the old man, panting. “Freeze… damn it!” He was losing steam.
A young man spun at the sound of Max’s voice. He spotted Victor and stuck out his foot in the blink of an eye. Victor connected with the foot and went down tumbling, screaming all the way.
Max threw himself backwards, fighting hard to avoid Victor’s fate. Victor rolled over, his face bloodied and contorted with rage. He brought his pistol up to fire.
Max swung his foot, punting the gun out of Victor’s hand. It went skittering across the sidewalk. Max dropped to one knee and grabbed Victor’s collar, the other hand was pulled back and balled in to a fist.
“Whoa whoa whoa, hey! Stop!” Victor squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away from Max.
The detective slowly dropped his fist. He instead reached behind him and pulled out a set of handcuffs. “Victor Esposito, you’re under arrest!”
The gathering crowd began to applaud as they puzzled out what was going on. Max stood with a grunt, dragging a protesting Victor with him. “Look at that, Victor! The crowd loves you.”
Victor tried to spit on him. Max shook him like a wet dog, making Victor cry out in pain. “You wait, you son of a bitch! You just wait. Don Adesso is going to take care of me. Then you.”
The welcoming sound of a whooping squad car came from the other side of the crowd. “I think you’re wrong on both parts, Esposito.”
The crowd reluctantly parted to let a pair of police officers through. One had black hair, the other blond, with a mustache. The mustache nodded to Max. “Well holy shit, Max. You just cost me twenty bucks and two cups of Joe.”
“So it goes, Richie. Why don’t you give my friend here a ride downtown?”
Richard O’Connor smiled. “With pleasure.”
“I want a doctor!” Victor twisted and thrashed as Max handed him over to Richard and his partner. “Police brutality! I’ll see you…”
Max smacked him hard upside the head. “You’ll see me downtown, you mouthy bastard. Anyone else responding, Richie?”
“Yeah um… Murphy, I think.”
“Excellent. I need a ride. Left my car parked…” Max looked around vaguely. “Well somewhere back that way.”
Richard smirked. “Yeah, we saw that.” Victor started struggling again. “Okay, let’s go, airhead.”
Max started following behind the two officers, but then caught himself up. He looked around, eye scanning again. Found him. “Hey, you! Yeah! In the blue windbreaker!”
The man stood and stared, not sure what to do. He ran his hand cross his short-cut brown hair. Max waved him over. The man looked around. Who, me? Max tilted his head to one side. Come on now, pal.
Blue windbreaker caught a hint and dragged himself over to where Max was standing. “Um, hi. I’m not… I’m not in trouble, am I?”
Max grinned. “No you’re not, kid. You did good. That was a hell of a trick you pulled, tripping old Vic like th
at. Thanks.” He stuck his hand out.
Blue windbreaker took it reluctantly and shook it. “Oh! Uh, sure. No problem.”
“Hey, Kincaid! How about we go move your car out of the god-damned intersection!” There was Murphy.
Max tipped his hat. “Take care, kid. See ya around.”
“Yeah, sure. See you.” Blue windbreaker watched as Max walked through the crowd.
2
“Good afternoon, Detective Max Kincaid!” The blue and silver robot, JAX-649, was intimidating at just over seven feet tall. The cartoonish loop of LED lights where the bot’s mouth should be was meant to put humans at ease. Max just thought it made the thing look goofy.
“How are ya, Jax?” Max frowned. “And for the thousandth time, just call me Max.”
The LED mouth frowned back at him. “My apologies, Max.” The goofy grin came back. “I am operating within acceptable parameters! I hope you find yourself functioning in a similar manner?”
Max smirked. “If you’re asking if I’m doing alright, then yes, I am. I’m sure you already heard I snagged a big fish a short while ago.”
“Oh, yes! Victor Esposito, case number five-three-nine-eight-four-zero, arrested for assault with a deadly weapon, evading arrest, resisting arrest…”
“Yeah, yeah… I arrested him! You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”
The glowing, blue frown was back. “You are correct. I apologize for wasting your time, Max.”
Max hung his head and sighed. He looked the bot in the electric blue eye. “You’re just doing your job, Jax. I appreciate it.”
The smile returned. He gave Max a sharp salute. “Always at your service, Max!” He reached over and pulled open the door to the New Wave City 29th Precinct as Max climbed the steps.
“Stay out of trouble!” Max smirked.
“That will be easy, as I am programmed to avoid being in trouble!” Just what Max expected to hear.
Preservation Protocol Page 1