Chapter 2: Out of Sight

As Paul drives the gravi-car through the low-level traffic, my heart was still pounding away inside me, anticipating the next move, because right behind us was a...rat...human...whatever the hell that thing is...there was something behind us, unconscious and still. My hand held onto my gun, the finger on my trigger. My heart was racing. All I thought was how this perp would use rats as a form of company, or how he uses them to smuggle around some snacks. I didn't think he was one. I thought it was going to be another normal day. Now I got some sort of monster snoozing behind me, and I'm waiting. Just waiting for it to spring up, let out a screech, and try and sink its grotesque two buck teeth into my head, gnawing away at my brain. I was waiting for it to make one stupid move, so I can blast its abnormal-looking head out of the sky. I was just waiting...waiting...

"Calm down," Paul suddenly says. I jump in response, a shock sent through my body, then take a breath. His damn nanos must hold all the cards.

"Sorry, Paul," I say, regaining my calm.

"Detective Nelson," he said in a correcting tone.

I give him a confused look. "...Huh?"

"Detective Nelson. That's my name."

"I know what your name is," I say curtly.

"Okay, then, please address me in a formal manner, Detective Hamilton," he says more harshly than I.

I shake my head and lean on the car door with my head perched on my hand. "Are you even affected by this?" I ask him.

"What?"

I look at the rat man and then to him. "The fact that we have a..." I look again, estimating how tall he is. "...5 foot, 9 inch...Damn, I don't even know what to call it."

"A Chim Reject?" 

"Yeah, sure. The fact that we have a Chim Reject sleeping behind us."

"What are you afraid of?" He said, trying to reassure me.

"I'm afraid of the teeth he...she...it's got."

"It's a male."

"Oh," I retorted sarcastically. "Thank you for answering that question."

"You're welcome, Detective Hamilton."

I look at him wondering if he knows what sarcasm is, but I'm afraid he's going to tell me where the word comes from, how frequent its used, different historical examples, et cetera, et cetera. So I just look to the road and watch the cars fly by. Looking at Paul, I can see what Nanos do to you. Or what any augmentation does to you. Maybe the Preservationists are right. Maybe they do take away your humanity, and fix up your flaws. I thought being human was all about accepting your flaws. Embracing them, or some emotional spiel. Then again, they make your life easier. And they're certainly pharmaceutical. Augments have saved people's lives now and again. Makes me wonder...if I was ever in a situation where I was dying...would I give up my humanity just to prolong my life for 30 more years, or would I just accept death as any human should when it's their time? 

Either way, I decided to calm myself, take out my phone, and try and talk to Dad about this. We've kept in touch, but he's become more of a recluse and not even talk to me. I've even tried to drive up to his house to see where he was, only to be greeted by a different family. He never told me he moved. Never told me he quit Novasphere. For the past three months, I've tried to talk to him, but I've gotten no answer. So I gave up on it, and just did my job. Now the one time I need to talk to him, and he's not there to answer. Figures. Ever since that big reveal he did when I was just ten, he's been growing distant. Sure, he gave me the occasional three meals a day, but whenever I try to talk to him, he wouldn't say much. I even yelled at him to try and talk to me again, because I was frustrated and sad. To tell me what's wrong with him. Still didn't get the result I expected. I left him a few years after I joined the Hyperions and made a new life of mine. Felt good doing it, too. I felt like I was in a family with the Hyperions than with Dad.

"Trying to call him?" Paul says, trying to sound comforting. I don't hear it and get defensive.

"Why are you hacking into my personal calls?" 

"Because I've tried speaking to him." 

I was appalled, and at the same time, I was beginning to hate augmentations even more. This guy practically had control over everything, over who I was talking to, what my pulse was, how I felt about the situation, and I can look at him and tell he was so f*****g proud of it. His face was expressionless, but I could tell. He wanted control, to feel better than me, just because he has some gnats flying in his blood that can show him videos and brainwaves in his eyes. Make him a better person. 

But I wasn't fooling myself. I couldn't know. I was just enraged at how he went into my things without me asking. Like he needed the answer to so many trivial questions. He wanted to know everything. Why? What's the point of having so much information about me?

"Did you get anything?" I said back, wanting to humor him.

"I couldn't find him," he said with no concern. But to me, that was a big concern. "What do you mean?" I said.

"I mean, I couldn't find him, or call him. It's like he's off the grid."

Now fear took center stage again, except it was fear for my father. I know him and I don't talk much, but when I left his house, I never heard from him again. Out of sympathy, I called him two times every year, and in three, I gave up. From there, no one ever heard what he's been doing after he left Novasphere ten years ago. Everyone said he committed suicide somewhere no one could find him. I just didn't care. I was on my own. And I lost all sympathy for my dad the moment I walked out the door. 

Sometimes, I wish Mom was around. She was always there to make him smile so brightly, make it look like he had a heart and soul. She was the center of happiness in our family of three. She made the family feel normal, even more normal than what other families have. As far as I was concerned, we were the only Natural family in the city. Of course, that wasn't true, but we weren't concerned with augmentations or ethics or anything like that. We were just worried about small stuff like bills, or the next trip we'd go on. Most people wish they were a kid again to avoid responsibility. I just want to be a kid to see my Mom again. Lost her when I was seven from cancer. 

I decided to look around the road and noticed something wrong. We left the city. It was a few miles behind us, the bright jewel shrinking in the horizon. I turn to Paul, ready to inquire him again, but before a sound could escape my lips, I felt a force of energy strike me in the chest, and I passed out quick.

-------------------

My eyelids began to part and I saw sunlight breaking through the blinds. I snap up, taking a sharp breath, and looked around, surveying the room. There was a bedlamp on the bed drawer, angular and polygon-like. A drawer on one side, a drawer on another, then a mirror sitting in the corner. On these drawers were framed pictures, some of me in my finest moments, my mom, and my family all smiling happily. 

I was back in my room. It didn't take me minutes to figure out what happened. Paul knocked me out. He took me back home. Why? What did he do with the body? Where were we going last night? These questions buzzed in my head for a bit, but I shook it off. There were too many questions going on in my head. Felt like a hive of bees sending information to one another, buzzing around in my mind. If I wanted to have these questions answered, I better get started. I'm a detective. I gotta find questions. 

And I know where to start.