Jimmy 

"Shit!"

The expletive pretty much summed up the situation.  This job had turned into a fucking mess, no doubt about that.  What the hell went through the minds of these bio-freaks anyway?  They had to know what would happen.  The rules never changed, ever.  Oh, well.  It was his job and it had to be done, might as well get on with it.

Jimmy unholstered his pistol and pushed open the door.  He stopped to let his eyes adjust to the dim light inside.  No matter how many times he came down here, he never got used to the smell.  Excrement mixed with dying, dead, decaying bodies and the occasional whiff of weed when one of them scored a joint.  Hard to believe that sixty years ago, Beverly Hills was a nice place to live.  Movie stars, real humans, not the CGI crap they had now, owned most of the homes in this area.  Millionaires and billionaires, the beautiful people filled the sidewalks, shops and cafés.  That was the start of it, though, wasn’t it?  The desire to stay young and beautiful had pushed medical science to keep up with the demand.  When plastic surgery was no longer enough, bio and genetic engineering had stepped in to fill the need.

 Yeah, and now we have this fucking disaster, Jimmy thought to himself.  Bio-freaks, the by- product of medical science run amuck (and their offspring, God, how could anybody do that?…) had eventually overrun most of Los Angeles.  The wall had gone up in 2073 following the Hawkins Medical Quarantine Act.  Should have just nuked the whole damn place to hell.  Then what would you do for a living, smart guy? 

Jimmy laughed at himself.  He ran through this internal dialogue every time he had to chase one of these basket cases down here.  He supposed it was what kept him sane, even if marginally.  Moving on.

Jimmy stepped over the remains of several freaks and kept moving.  The scanner put the target at fifty meters ahead and four above Jimmy’s current location.  Running upstairs, they almost always did that.  A dead end for sure, pun certainly intended.  OK, so he could skip his workout tonight.  Three for four flights of stairs and finish this off.  Get out of this shit hole and get a drink.  Something cold and mind numbing.  Doctors orders.

The staircase was in the same state of decay as the rest of the building and Jimmy had to take his time to avoid falling through the rotted steps.  He reached the second floor and the scanner had the target twenty meters straight ahead.  Good, it found a hole to hide in. 

This would have been so much easier if it would have just surrendered outside.  A quick zap with a laser and lights out, no pain.  But he couldn’t very well drag a fifty kilo rig through here, now, could he?  So he was left with his forty-four caliber Smith and Wesson, seven inch barrel and black as midnight.  Most of the other hunters used tranc darts that euthanized the target.  Jimmy had tried that once and the damn freak had been up on some kind of stim-pac or another and the dart just pissed it off.  Would’ve been over if he hadn’t had the foresight to bring his black beauty.  Saved his ass that night and quite a few after that.

The light on the scanner went from green to red, indicating that the target was less than five meters away.  Ahead and to the left.  The door wasn’t even closed all the way.  Stupid freaks, didn’t even know how to hide.  Just making his job all the easier.

Jimmy pushed the door open with the barrel of the gun and looked around.  Nothing in the front room, but the target was very close.  Another door to the right, probably a bedroom in the old days.  Jimmy stepped back and leveled the pistol at the opening.  Nothing.  He pushed the door open and saw a shape huddled in the back corner behind some debris.  Target acquired.  He crossed the room and pulled the pile of boxes out of the way.  It was a female, looked to be about sixteen, but you could never tell with the freaks.  Some of the crap flowing through their gene pool drastically slowed the aging process.  This one could be thirty or forty for all he knew.  It had draped itself with some sort of cloth that was filthy, like everything else down here.  Blue eyes, most of them had blue eyes.  All the genetic fiddling had caused blue eyes to become a dominant trait.

“Stand up!” Jimmy barked, hoping its mind still recognized language.  It stood, shaking in the corner.  The drape fell away to reveal two round, full breasts and a very flat stomach.  Of course, most of them looked like this.  They were simply shadows of another time, beautiful on the outside but a writhing mass of disease and genetic mutation on the inside.

Jimmy ran the scanner over the female from head to toe to verify the identity.

“Target twenty-five-six-delta-nine, confirmed.” The scanner announced coldly.

“Target, you have been marked for elimination.  By order of the Judge Advocate of the Los Angeles Tribunal, under the jurisdiction of the Congress of New California, I hereby pass and enact judgment.”  Jimmy made sure to repeat every word.  The scanner would be recording the whole event for review.  Drop a freak without ‘due process’ and the shit would hit the fan.  Every bleeding heart in New Cal would be down his and the Captain’s throat for cruel and unusual punishment.  What a bunch of shit for brains they were.  If they had ever been down here (you mean, in person?  Oh my God, never!) they would have realized that Jimmy and his lot were doing the freaks a huge favor by putting them out of their misery.

“I’m not a freak.”  The voice was small and weak, but it’s sound startled Jimmy.  He had rarely had one make any sound at all and never remembered anything resembling speech.

“What did you say?” Jimmy asked.

“I’m not a freak.  That’s what you do, hunt the freaks, right?  Well, I’m not one.”

The last statement was made with such fortitude that Jimmy lowered his weapon.  This assignment had just gone from messy to weird in no time flat.  Crap, now he would have to call in and have a med team dispatched.

“Then what the hell are you doing in the Hills?” Jimmy demanded.

“I got lost.  All I remember is we were on our way to the beach and someone said we should drive by and check out some freaks.  We found a way in through an old storm drain.  That’s all I can remember.”

“You got a name?” Jimmy inquired.

“Everything’s kind of fuzzy.  Veronica.  I guess I must have another name, doesn’t everyone have two?  I just can’t remember it.”

Jimmy kept his eyes on the target calling herself Veronica.  There was something about her that wasn’t adding up.  A bunch of norms running freaks in the Hills for kicks?  Frat boys or Marines on leave, maybe, but high school girls?  Jimmy got that strange feeling in the back of his mind that usually resulted in keeping his ass alive.  He slowly raised the pistol in time to see the target’s pupils turn into slits and the forked tongue slide out of her mouth like a snake.  His finger pulled the trigger even before the gun was in position, but the bullet still found its mark, hitting ‘Veronica’ squarely in the middle of the forehead.  The forty-four slug made a nice round hole three centimeters above her brow line before the back of her head exploded onto the wall behind her.  She slumped to the floor in a heap without so much as a twitch.  Jimmy walked over and nudged her with the toe of his boot, but he knew she was dead.  Most of her brains had become so much wall décor and he hadn’t seen a freak yet that could walk away from that.

“Target eliminated at twenty-two forty hours on fifteen May, twenty ninety-eight.  Single gunshot to frontal lobe resulting in massive trauma to brain and anterior skull.” Jimmy concluded his report with pictures and scans of the scene and the body.  He had a feeling that the medics would want to study this one for sure.  Her speech and communication abilities were far more advanced than any of the other freaks he had seen so far.  Never know what’s going to splash through the gene pool, now do you? Jimmy thought with a wry smile.

Having turned off his scanner, Jimmy did not get the warning of the freak sneaking up behind him.  The iron pipe hit the back of his head with a dull clank, causing him to lurch forward.  He reached up and felt the depression in his skull and turned to face his attacker.  Another female freak, this one looked to be in her late thirties.  She had a meter long length of pipe gripped in both hands like a big league batter.

“She’s my daughter, you fucking bastard!” the freak screamed at Jimmy, spit flying from her toothless mouth.  She was flushed red and Jimmy could see the veins pulsating in her temples.  Her face was covered with quarter sized, red blisters and she was completely bald.  The ragged shirt she had on barley covered her to the waist.  Below the waist she had on a pair of men’s boxers, stained with any number of bodily fluids.  Her arms, legs and bare feet were covered with the same red blisters as her face.  She reared back with the pipe and took another swing, aiming again for Jimmy’s head.  He caught the pipe in his left hand and fired two shots from the forty-four.  The first caught her neatly between the breasts, leaving a red blossom of blood on her dirty t-shirt.  The second penetrated her throat and exploded her spine just below the skull, neatly removing her head from her body which slumped to the floor.  Her head rolled toward the wall and stopped face up with the eyes open and her mouth open in a silent scream.  Jimmy amended his report.

“Second target eliminated per Defense Clause three-seven-five point six.  Unprovoked attack on an Officer of the Judge Advocate.  Scan shows imminent biohazard present, elimination justified.”

Jimmy turned and left the two bodies in the room without looking back.  Let the medic squad clean up the mess, that’s what they got paid for.  Anyway, his day was done and it was time for that drink.  As he walked down the hallway, something on his left side caught his eye.  He turned his head, but whatever it was stayed just out of range.  The object got larger until Jimmy realized that he could no longer see out of his left eye.  Damn freak must have damaged it with the pipe blow to his head.  Have to get that looked at when he got back.  This assignment had really turned out to be a pain in the ass.

Jimmy walked out of the building and into the street.  There hadn’t been any working street lights down here since the wall went up, so he switched to night vision and continued down the block.  After a quick six kilometer walk Jimmy arrived at the security gate and placed his eye to the scanner.

“ID confirmed, access granted.” The electronic voice stated flatly.  The door swung open and Jimmy backed in to be sure some crazy freak didn’t try to rush into the chamber behind him.  Once he was inside and the door closed, he removed his gun and holster and placed it into a small opening in the side wall.  The door slid shut automatically and he removed his clothes, dropping them into a larger opening on the opposite wall.  He closed his eyes and the decontamination spray hit him like a thousand icy needles.  He raised his hands over his head to be sure the spray contacted him everywhere.  After five minutes the spray turned off and the blowers started.  He was completely dry within minutes and a full length door slid back to reveal a hospital gown.  He put it on and pressed a green button next to a door on the back wall.  It slid open to reveal a brightly lit hospital room.  Two men in white lab coats were standing next to a bed as if they were expecting him.

“Jimmy, heard you took a shot.  Losing your touch?” the man with “Frank” on his coat asked.

“Fuck you, Frank.” Jimmy retorted.  “I’d like to see you down in that sewer.  You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

“Well, aren’t we a little touchy today?” Frank replied.  “It’s just that there’s been a lot invested in you and we don’t want anything broken.”

“Your concern in genuinely touching, asshole.  Just patch me up and get me out of here.  I need a drink.”

“You heard the man, Jackson, let’s get to work.” Frank said to his coworker.

Jimmy climbed up on the bed and placed his arms in the supports on either side.  The two men strapped them down along with Jimmy’s legs.  Two more straps were placed over his torso and cinched down tight.

“What the hell, Jackson, you must be new.  I can’t fucking breathe with these things this tight”, Jimmy growled at the second technician.

Jackson just laughed and walked into a second room.  This room had a window overlooking Jimmy’s bed.  Below the window was a bank of controls, video screens and readouts.  Frank was already checking the data on several of the displays.

“Stupid ‘borg lets himself get whacked and now we have to clean up the mess.  Anterior skull plate’s depressed and it’s showing micro fractures.  Means we have to replace the whole backside of his head.  Left optic was also damaged and has to be replaced as well.  You’d think with all the fucking programming we put into these things, they could keep themselves in one piece.” Frank punctuated his remark by slapping his hand down on the console.

“Come on Frank, they’re only human.”  Both men erupted in boisterous laughter at an apparent inside joke. 

“Yeah, all thirty-two percent.” Frank responded, to which both men began laughing again.

“Hey Jackson, you know the difference between a ‘borg and a bucket of shit?” Frank asked.

“What’s that?” Jackson said.

“The bucket!” Frank completed the joke. 

“Hey, you know the mic is on.” Jackson stated, looking down at the board.  “He can probably hear everything we’re saying.”

“Who gives a shit.  He’s due for a memory wipe anyway.” Frank replied.  “They want us to give this new neural programming another run.  Want to see if we can intensify the ‘borg’s hatred for the scum.”

“So what’s the deal with wiping out all the homeless, anyway?” Jackson asked.  “I mean, it’s not like they’re hurting anybody and sure as hell no one wants to live in the Hills anymore.”

“From what I hear, they got some redevelopment plan all worked out and they got to get rid of the trash first.  Send in mechanical scum to wipe out the biological scum.” Frank said, like it was his plan all along.

“Why not robots?  I mean, Army’s got an infantry ‘bot that could wipe out a whole neighborhood in an hour.  I never understood why they started using ‘borgs in the first place.” Jackson commented.

“Yeah, and those damn things run about thirty mill each, plus the programming is a nightmare.  An A-class cyborg only runs about two mill complete and no software.  Just a little neuro input and turn ‘em loose.” Frank enlightened his counterpart.  “Besides, you see some jack blow away a homeless scum, it’s just another murder in the Hills.  Happens all the time.  But you send a bunch of ‘bots in there and the shit would hit the fan for damn sure.”

“Yeah, guess that makes sense,” Jackson agreed.  “So where do they get the donors for the ‘borgs?  Volunteers?”

Frank laughed darkly.  “Hell no, that’s the best part.  They’re scum.  Clean ‘em up, add some hardware and a little brainwashing, give ‘em a gun and send ‘em in to kill off their own.  If one of ‘em gets snuffed in the process, we just send a team in to retrieve the body so we can recycle the parts.  Hell, in the early days, I seen some of ‘em sent in with all kinds of parts thrown on.  Mismatched arms and legs, gave a whole new meaning to the saying ‘two left feet’.” Frank chuckled again.

Frank and Jackson walked back into the room and looked down at Jimmy.

“I know what’s going through your mind right now, Jimmy”, Frank said.  “You’re convinced we’re full of shit and that you have some history as a normal.  Hate to break the news to you, well, not really, but you’re a ‘borg, buddy. Your memories are all programmed in.  I could read you the script if you like.  I think your dad’s name was Ralph and your mom’s was Nora and you grew up in Central Illinois.”

Frank reached up and flipped down a mirror that was standing next to the bed.

“Take a look, asshole” Frank hissed.  “A whole bunch of hardware and a little bit of meat, all stitched together.  You’re the freak, Jimmy.  Those poor women you gunned down tonight, nothing wrong with them that a shower a few good meals wouldn’t cure.  Everything you think you saw, just a few little tricks we implanted to make sure you’d followed through.”

Jimmy knew he didn’t want to look, but he did.  Whoever’s face that was staring back sure as hell didn’t belong to him.  Only half of it had any flesh covering the skull.  The other half was dull chrome steel.  The left eye looked like a burnt out light bulb and the right one had a red glow where the pupil should have been.

“Told you so, jerkwad.  That pipe would have opened your head like a melon if you were a normal.  Pure ‘borg, through and through.  Sending out the freaks to wipe out the scum.  Pretty sweet deal, doncha’ think?”  Frank concluded his remark by slapping the table next to Jimmy.  “OK, playtime’s over.  Let’s get you back to work.”

Frank brought down an air hypo and placed it against Jimmy’s neck.  The last thing Jimmy remembered was Frank’s face leaning over him saying, “When you wake up, you’ll be a whole new man,” and laughing hysterically.

***********

Jimmy unholstered his pistol and pushed open the door.  He stopped to let his eyes adjust to the dim light inside.  No matter how many times he came down here, he never got used to the smell.  Excrement mixed with dying, dead, decaying bodies and the occasional whiff of weed when one of them scored a joint.  Hard to believe that fifty years ago, Beverly Hills was a nice place to live.  Movie stars, real humans, not the CGI crap they had now, owned most of the homes in this area.  Millionaires and billionaires, the beautiful people filled the sidewalks, shops and cafés.  That was the start of it, though, wasn’t it?  The desire to stay young and beautiful had pushed medical science to keep up with the demand.  When plastic surgery was no longer enough, bio and genetic engineering had stepped in to fill the need……..

Copyright 2008 by Edward Owen.  All rights reserved