The Future
"Why am I here, Drake?" Cole asked calmly as he stepped out of the 30th-century police cruiser. "I'm a detective, not a babysitter."
"We're aware of that," the lieutenant answered, a hint of impatience showing in his voice, "but we thought you'd want to take a look at this." The babysitter wisecrack referred to the dozens of cops swarming the area.
A huge electrical shield covered the entire building like a tent, keeping outsiders out. "This must be bad," Cole thought. He held his dark hair back and knelt down, allowing the computer to read the chip at the front of his brain, and soundlessly a crack opened like a door for him. He tentatively stepped inside, and it closed quickly behind him. Cole shuddered. He wasn't a big fan of modern technology.
He nodded to familiar officers, making his way down the main hallway. The building was about twenty stories high, which is why the full shield alarmed him &endash; complete evacuation was rare.
"Right this way, sir," Drake said, and led him into a small elevator that took them to the 15th floor. Cole was led to the entrance of one of the many rooms along the hallway, labeled number 1392.
The metallic door opened quietly with the lieutenant's card, and Cole was ushered through the cramped apartment and into a small room at the back.
"Here it is," Drake said rather matter-of-factly.
Cole was unimpressed. It was a simple computer headset. "I don't get it, Drake."
"It's what's in there that's important."
Cole sighed and picked up the machine. He pulled the visor down over his eyes and inserted the two sensors into both ears. The computer automatically turned on and Cole's body went limp.
He opened his eyes, or rather his virtual ones, and gazed around. A completely virtual version of him had been created. He could move and everything &endash; impulses from his brain allowed him to do everything he could do in the real world.
Above him loomed a dome of about fifty squares, tiny and seemingly obsolete. Cole chose a random one and pointed at it, and it was highlighted. He opened his hand, spreading out his fingers, and the command caused the square to come out of the rest toward him, so he could see it clearly.
He furrowed his virtual eyebrows. It was a home computer desktop. Headsets are used for storing massive amounts of data and for police use in examining photos and crime scenes, but most homes still used a simple computer. He made a fist, and the file was opened. He started poking around, pointing at the desktop's files and opening them, and read some of the documents. He determined it was the home computer of Matt Kenny, a scientist in the northern U.S.
Cole left the file, and entered another one. Then another. Each one had the same story - young scientist in the U.S. "This is bad," he thought. This was some major hacking. Having skimmed through most of them, Cole finally sighed and made a swift slashing gesture, the command to turn the computer off.
He awoke with a groan, a stabbing pain in his forehead. He kept his eyes closed for a moment and then slowly cracked them open. He was lying on the floor. He realized that he had forgotten to sit down when he activated the headset. The body collapses, and he appeared to have banged his head on the desk during his fall. Drake was looking down at him, trying to look concerned, but hidden in his features was a "Now-I've-got-something-to-talk-about-in-the-coffee-room" smirk.
Cole pulled himself up, using the desk for support, and massaged his forehead. "So what's so significant?"
"Well," said Drake, "every one of those scientists is dead."
Cole moaned. He was expecting as much. "Did each one die the same way? Was it this guy who did it?"
"We think it was him, but cause of death is uncertain. He used termites. Also, we're not sure who "he" is. He used a false name here."
This was getting worse and worse. Termites were small computers that, if inserted into a body, terminate the innards, making examination impossible.
Cole hid the emotion. "Alright," he sighed, it was time to give orders. "I want a team sent to each house, get pictures of every single angle of the scenes, and send them to the headset in my office. Also, get a group to make a list of all purchases in-let's see- the last two days before death for each one. It might have been sabotage."
"Yes, sir," Drake replied, and began to leave the room.
"Oh, and Drake, find out if these scientists had anything in common. There must be more to this than some guy who had a mean 8th grade science teacher."
"Got it."
Cole went back to massaging his still-aching forehead. "This won't be easy..." he thought. Getting massive amounts of data like this is time-consuming and rather difficult, but Drake had a reputation for being organized - with the entire police under his control he could handle it.
He began to examine the apartment. It was organized, nothing unusual at all. He went from room to room, nothing catching his attention until the medicine cabinet. It was mostly just deodorant and toothpaste, but a white, unmarked bottle stuck out. Cole pulled it out. It had a safety seal, but otherwise it was just a round, white bottle. Cole pocketed it and left the apartment.
A group of officers stood outside Cole's office. His body was limp, in a chair this time, as he looked at each crime scene. The pictures had been combined to make a virtual walkthrough of each scene in his headset. A level of excitement was notable in the crowd, each wondering whether the amazing Cole could figure this one out. It had been a week since the night at the apartment building, and he finally had all of his data. Inside the headset, relief was constantly growing in Cole. After what seemed like days, he shut off the headset and stood up, satisfaction on his face.
He opened his office door, and attention was immediately drawn to him.
"Gentlemen," he sighed, "we got it."
A cheer came up from the crowd - but it soon quieted. Everyone knew the routine - Cole always explained the mystery.
"According to our list of purchases, each victim bought a random type of stomach acid reliever before death. While at the apartment, I picked out this item." Cole held up the white bottle. "It is a safety sealed, white medicine bottle filled with pills. Upon examination of these pills, it was determined that they were filled with &endash; gasp - Drano. So the subject somehow managed to cause each victim horrible stomach pain, and when they bought medicine he placed the brand's label on one of these guys. He then came into the victim's house, disguised or breaking in, and replaced the bottles. So, the Drano did help the stomach pain, the pills disguised the burning feeling, but in no time it killed them."
"Why did he choose these scientists?" a random voice shouted.
Cole grinned. "Alright, this is where it gets weird. The group of scientists was working on a cold case. They were solving the case of the cyanide poisonings back in the 20th century. The killer heard about it when they got started, and tapped each computer to keep an eye on things. When they got to close, he ended it. Why? Because he's the killer's descendent. He didn't want his family name disgraced, so he tried to fix it, and made it worse. He even used the same technique. Anyway, we brought him in, he's a loner, and he's now in prison."
Drake shook his head, gaping. He didn't know how much longer he could stay at this job.