AI IA First Shot

Funka Genocide · 12-17-2006, 05:33 PM

This is a sci fi story I've been working on for the past few mo ths or so. Anyone familiar with my attempt at creating an RP system many moons ago should find the setting familiar, and a few character names as well. Still needs a lot of work of course.

...............................................

Chapter 1
Murdering The Furniture

Empty the drawers.

He wanted to toss every bit of pointless rubbish from those perfectly manufactured hardwood drawers, he wanted to toss the entire desk out his window in fact. Watch the gorgeous architecture of it all plummet gracelessly through the damning heights to a violent end some 400 meters below.

He paced silently, in his mind, through it�s infinite pathways and outside of it. It was habit, he�d been running a full system diagnostic on the buildings main operating system for the past two minutes without even noticing. His conscious mind could only wrestle valiantly against his urge to murder furniture.

He must have appeared asleep, or at the least uncommunicative as his secretary entered quietly. She was one of those corporate assistants that middle aged men spent afternoons chatting up, attempting to relive their often-embellished youths through her bright young eyes. Her figure met the confines of its tidy blue uniform as if it were her body that was tailored and not the other way around. Chest first she entered the room, something she could only avoid had she been walking backwards.

�Excuse me Mr. Devon. I don�t mean to disturb you but there�s a messenger here from Central Precinct�� her slight voice trailed, as if to imply that such a visitor came complete with a purpose built into his arrival.

And of course such a visitor did.

Mr. Devon sat still for a few moments longer. His eyes focused on the hated desk lamp with a swivel neck. His assistant�s words had cut through his destructive musings enough to start him back to normalcy, but the work was slow and he had trouble relinquishing his death grip on the imagery of burning his office to cinders. As his imagination put down the gasoline can his face turned to meet the smiling and unsure visage of his secretary.

His own face was a mask of disinterest, as if someone had forced him to baby-sit young children, and the only solution to their madness was a video of bright colors and repetitive nonsense. He looked like a children�s television burnout, his youthful face blank and staring.

�Mr. Devon?� she asked once more, seeming to feel a bit uncomfortable this time.

�Yes Ms. Blakes, thank you. Please escort him in.� Mr. Devon said eventually, adding �Offer him some refreshments too, I suppose.� As if such niceties weren�t a major portion of the beautiful young woman�s job.

�Yes sir.� Ms. Blakes replied as she went to fetch the messenger.

The perfect angles and sumptuous wood ceased their endless tumbling through open and unforgiving space, no more high backed leather chairs or three drawer teak filing cabinets need die imaginary deaths today. This was what he�d been waiting for.

He didn�t need to be clairvoyant to know who would be coming through his personally monogrammed door next (his precognitive abilities weren�t that highly developed anyways.) He didn�t even need to remotely access the security cameras throughout the lobby outside his office, pure human insight had all ready solved this mystery.

Insight and the knowledge that there was only one man in Central Precinct that ever wanted to see his face again.

�Ocius, been a long time hasn�t it?� The voice announced before a face could emerge to validate Ocius� hunch. The voice was as lighthearted as it ever was, always trembling slightly above condescension.

�Ocisi, what brings you all the way down to Periphery Intelligence? Have they started remodeling your office again? Need a place to put your coffee mug while they install the hot tub?� Ocius replied good-naturedly. For all his frustration, he was genuinely glad to see this man, and gladder still for what he represented.

Major Ocisi End stood in the doorframe, looking as if he were posing for a photograph. He could have been 19 years old from his looks, the damage that age was supposed to deal seemed relegated to his personality however. He had always worn the swagger of a man who knew he was better than you the way most men wear a belt. It fit snugly and kept you from seeing his private bits.

�Come on Ocius, you know I haven�t set foot inside that dusty old mausoleum in months. Too many old men and old memories. Though I suppose if there were a hot tub��

�You�d lose your privileges to it as soon as you could get Sergeant Indiriel past the security checkpoints.� Ocius said.

�I never! We were just, It�s� aagh you bastard.� Ocisi replied before the room broke into laughter. They were both acutely aware of the absurdity of laughter in this situation, both supremely grateful of its effect.

�Sit down all ready you old War dog, put these damned couches to good use for once.� Ocius entreated.

�Aye, what better use than to support the ass of the man who�s here to redeem you.� Ocisi replied still chuckling.

�Didn�t they teach us in Primary that redemption can only come from within?� Ocius questioned.

�I think they also taught us how to separate carbon atoms from a dead frog, and when was the last time that particular knowledge came in handy?� Ocisi retorted.

�The act itself, never, yet the principle remains the basis for a great many accomplishments. Instantaneous molecular manipulation helped me save your life once, remember? Perhaps such a simple statement may seem meaningless on it�s own, yet with the benefit of a life behind it one might find meaning beyond the obvious.� Ocius said, his mood seeming to darken.

Ocisi sat motionless as the memories of life and death played within his imagination. There were very few times in his life he�d been close to death, despite his very dangerous profession. He was one of the chosen few, beyond humanity in ability and potential, guns and knives weren�t even to the caliber of annoyances for one such as him, but once he�d been afraid of death, once he�d seen the smiling doorman that waits for all things at the end, and he had been humbled and glad for a reprieve.

�You may have a point, though I never remembered philosophy being your area of expertise.�

�Time turns all minds to pointless reflection my friend, and I�ve had enough time for that.� Ocius said, the eagerness to be rid of his current situation evident.

�Well then, shall we discuss this in more fitting environs? You look like you could use a drink in any case.�

Ocius had retrieved his coat from the stainless steel coat rack and opened the door in the space of one heartbeat to the next, the vacuum caused by his movement sent his desk into disarray with paperwork floating aimlessly to settle where it may. Smoke rose from the path he�d taken, leaving little smoldering footprints where he now stood.

�You know they take the cost of repairs from my paycheck?�

Chapter 2
Neo Yuppies

�I never much cared for the atmosphere here.� Ocisi remarked.

�What do you mean? It�s standard O2 Nitrogen mix, lightly scented with gin and hormones, same as any bar.� Ocius retorted facetiously.

�Oh you over analytical bastard, you know what I mean.� Ocisi said, gesturing with an open palm, encompassing the entire room the duo now occupied, as if an explanation for his distaste were as evident as the glaring young women seated across the bar.

The room was appointed sumptuously, deep leather couches lined the fresco walls, bedecked as they were with contemporary art pieces. Holo-vids of the latest journalism played the top networks anchors without voice, those who were interested could listen to the audio on their personal comm. units if the booze hadn�t taken away their desire for up to the minute reports on stock prices and sports scores. Here and there bored and boring nobodies dressed as somebodies waved alcoholic beverages around with varying degrees of abandon, expensive crystal glasses glinting dully in the dim light.

One of these nobodies sat very near the two conversing men, his head lolling pointedly in the strange manner of a man who had a few too many too quick. His suit, though thoroughly rumpled, was of an obvious expensive cut. His drink, the last of what must have been a great many, sat mostly gone atop a circular disk of light built into the bar. The ghastly electric glow shining through it�s amber substance lent it the air of some mystical elixir, and perhaps that was what the hapless patron wished for; a magic potion with the ability to cure all his life�s many ills. He looked about to fall from his all too precarious barstool.

�Take this fine gentleman for example, adding his particular odor to that mixture you just detailed. Maybe a bit more whiskey than gin for this one, and that all too pungent aroma of pointlessness. All these wretched wage-slaves basking in their own self-importance, paragons of wasted time. Can�t you feel your blood cooling from the mere proximity? Doesn�t it eat at your soul to see so much luxury and so little living?� Ocisi ranted, drunk all ready from his own draught of grandstanding. He was ever the orator, whether his audience was a class of young nexgen students in Primary, a ragged squad of underpaid and underfed soldiers, or his slightly inebriated drinking mate.

�And that�s why you�re here, idn�t it?� Ocius said, sounding comically like a child finding difficulty with contractions. �To save my soul from the terrors of mundane existence? I had no clue you were such a pious man Ocisi, I had always taken you for the most profane of blasphemers, one who thought himself a god.�

Ocisi looked hurt for a moment, as if Ocius had just slapped him. �I could care less about gods or religions, I�ve seen enough death to know that if there is a god he�s a right prick with a sick sense of humor, I wouldn�t count myself among divinity even if it came with keys to the executive washroom. All I know for certain is that men, yes MEN.� He emphasized the word as if this title were something astonishing, as if admitting to his humanity were a great and poignant acceptance to some debilitating weakness. ��like us aren�t meant to fester behind desks and file away our years neatly into precise memory banks, we�re not meant to be still and watch the world unfold. We�re meant to take center stage Ocius, and you know as well as I that you won�t last another 11 months in Peripheral Intelligence, you�ll go rogue long before that and find yourself on the other side of this invisible fence. So take your self righteous crap and shove it, and just take the god damned job I�m offering.� Ocisi was fuming by this point, and a few more eyes besides those of the young women across the bar were fixed upon him.

Ocius looked at his friends unlined face, watched the rage subside as quickly as it had come. He had all ready begun to systematically eliminate all the alcohol toxins from his bloodstream and would be completely sober in a few more seconds. �Look, I didn�t mean any offense Ocisi, we�ve known each other a long time, we know each other too well perhaps. I�ll lay all my cards on the table if you do.� He said apologetically.

There was silence for a moment more as Ocius took another drink from his beverage, a particularly hoppy sort of local microbrew, the trendy stuff these neo-yuppies guzzled with an absurd eagerness considering the triviality of their troubles, or perhaps because of that very fact. He drank purely out of habit as the force of his will alone coolly stamped out the effect of inebriation. .

�Fine, here�s the deal. Central Precinct needs your skills, there�s no other way around it. They could only deny your singular ability for so long anyways, maybe another year or so at most, but recent events have forced the old bastards to rethink their condemnation.� Ocisi stated matter-of-factly, as if only prattling off a list of formalities. They both knew exactly how capable the other was, no feigned surprise or modesty necessary.

�Recent events?� Ocius said.

�Look, you know the drill. Suicide mission, details available if and when needed, no back up, hostile forces, yadda yadda yadda, do you want the job or not?� Ocisi said coldly.

�I�m in.�

Chapter 3
Temperature

His apartment was cold on too many levels. One of these varieties of frigid was the sort of cold that chilled regardless of a thermostat setting. Ocius hadn�t really noticed this lack of warmth until now. He lived in a museum of modern furniture and minimalist design.

�And what warmth might await such a mercenary as me?�

Brief melodramatic visions of a Victorian hell blazed behind his eyes. Complete with decaying hands of men long dead reaching menacingly for his immortal soul. Such a literal translation of the hereafter spoken of in old books of a pass� religion would have been comical if they didn�t arise unbidden from his subconscious. He shuddered involuntarily as he removed his coat.

He tossed the garment onto the floor. He wouldn�t bother to pick it up himself. A maid serviced the apartment daily, maintaining the display unit quality of his domicile. His wardrobe was stocked with enough coats that he didn�t have to ware the same one twice all season. Consumerism was the new religion after all, far more immediate and damning than those spectral fingers awaiting his soul in that flaming pit of torment.

The night had progressed rather rapidly after he agreed to the uncertain terms of Ocisi�s offer. Many more drinks were had and many more establishments had been visited. By the end of the evening neither of them could quite recall the specifics of why they had met up in the first place. Ocius believed it had something to do with a research paper for Advanced Biological Engineering; Ocisi was convinced it was regarding the assassination of the prime director of Harcat sector 14.

Ocius� head was swimming now, and he couldn�t decipher if this was in response to the alcohol or an over-expenditure of will. The night of drinking they�d just endured was a superhuman display in it�s own right, enough alcohol had been consumed between the two of them to poison a horse three times over, and they�d still both managed to foot race down First Avenue.

Ocius had won of course.

He supposed the mystery of his headache would be revealed in the morning, if he threw up blood it was nexgen burnout, if he simply threw up it was good old alcohol. He did so relish these little intrigues.

He carried himself more so than walked into his bedroom, the feeling of an icebox became a condemnation here. If the rest of the house was chilly, his bedroom was trapped within an ice age.

Memories from the evening broke into his consciousness, faces of the women he�d seen intermingling with those flaming dead men until he couldn�t tell ghastly revenant from sexual fantasy. It was then he decided sleep was in his best interest.

The perfectly turned down bedding was folded over on one side, precisely as he requested. Every night had been the same since he�d left Central Precinct almost a year ago. He�d come home, watch some vids and trundle off to bed like any good citizen did after a long day at work. He�d almost come to believe this sort of routine could be tolerable, even enjoyable.

Tonight the deadly chatter of gunfire sounded like a lullaby to his pounding head, Ocisi was right when he�d said he wouldn�t make another 11 months.

Sleep mingled with waking dream as Ocius wrestled with events recorded within his mind with the precision of a holo-vid.

12-17-2006, 05:33 PM	#1
Funka Genocide Sent to the cornfield Join Date: Apr 2004 Location: Las Vegas Posts: 4,566	AI IA First Shot This is a sci fi story I've been working on for the past few mo ths or so. Anyone familiar with my attempt at creating an RP system many moons ago should find the setting familiar, and a few character names as well. Still needs a lot of work of course. ............................................... Chapter 1 Murdering The Furniture Empty the drawers. He wanted to toss every bit of pointless rubbish from those perfectly manufactured hardwood drawers, he wanted to toss the entire desk out his window in fact. Watch the gorgeous architecture of it all plummet gracelessly through the damning heights to a violent end some 400 meters below. He paced silently, in his mind, through it�s infinite pathways and outside of it. It was habit, he�d been running a full system diagnostic on the buildings main operating system for the past two minutes without even noticing. His conscious mind could only wrestle valiantly against his urge to murder furniture. He must have appeared asleep, or at the least uncommunicative as his secretary entered quietly. She was one of those corporate assistants that middle aged men spent afternoons chatting up, attempting to relive their often-embellished youths through her bright young eyes. Her figure met the confines of its tidy blue uniform as if it were her body that was tailored and not the other way around. Chest first she entered the room, something she could only avoid had she been walking backwards. �Excuse me Mr. Devon. I don�t mean to disturb you but there�s a messenger here from Central Precinct�� her slight voice trailed, as if to imply that such a visitor came complete with a purpose built into his arrival. And of course such a visitor did. Mr. Devon sat still for a few moments longer. His eyes focused on the hated desk lamp with a swivel neck. His assistant�s words had cut through his destructive musings enough to start him back to normalcy, but the work was slow and he had trouble relinquishing his death grip on the imagery of burning his office to cinders. As his imagination put down the gasoline can his face turned to meet the smiling and unsure visage of his secretary. His own face was a mask of disinterest, as if someone had forced him to baby-sit young children, and the only solution to their madness was a video of bright colors and repetitive nonsense. He looked like a children�s television burnout, his youthful face blank and staring. �Mr. Devon?� she asked once more, seeming to feel a bit uncomfortable this time. �Yes Ms. Blakes, thank you. Please escort him in.� Mr. Devon said eventually, adding �Offer him some refreshments too, I suppose.� As if such niceties weren�t a major portion of the beautiful young woman�s job. �Yes sir.� Ms. Blakes replied as she went to fetch the messenger. The perfect angles and sumptuous wood ceased their endless tumbling through open and unforgiving space, no more high backed leather chairs or three drawer teak filing cabinets need die imaginary deaths today. This was what he�d been waiting for. He didn�t need to be clairvoyant to know who would be coming through his personally monogrammed door next (his precognitive abilities weren�t that highly developed anyways.) He didn�t even need to remotely access the security cameras throughout the lobby outside his office, pure human insight had all ready solved this mystery. Insight and the knowledge that there was only one man in Central Precinct that ever wanted to see his face again. �Ocius, been a long time hasn�t it?� The voice announced before a face could emerge to validate Ocius� hunch. The voice was as lighthearted as it ever was, always trembling slightly above condescension. �Ocisi, what brings you all the way down to Periphery Intelligence? Have they started remodeling your office again? Need a place to put your coffee mug while they install the hot tub?� Ocius replied good-naturedly. For all his frustration, he was genuinely glad to see this man, and gladder still for what he represented. Major Ocisi End stood in the doorframe, looking as if he were posing for a photograph. He could have been 19 years old from his looks, the damage that age was supposed to deal seemed relegated to his personality however. He had always worn the swagger of a man who knew he was better than you the way most men wear a belt. It fit snugly and kept you from seeing his private bits. �Come on Ocius, you know I haven�t set foot inside that dusty old mausoleum in months. Too many old men and old memories. Though I suppose if there were a hot tub�� �You�d lose your privileges to it as soon as you could get Sergeant Indiriel past the security checkpoints.� Ocius said. �I never! We were just, It�s� aagh you bastard.� Ocisi replied before the room broke into laughter. They were both acutely aware of the absurdity of laughter in this situation, both supremely grateful of its effect. �Sit down all ready you old War dog, put these damned couches to good use for once.� Ocius entreated. �Aye, what better use than to support the ass of the man who�s here to redeem you.� Ocisi replied still chuckling. �Didn�t they teach us in Primary that redemption can only come from within?� Ocius questioned. �I think they also taught us how to separate carbon atoms from a dead frog, and when was the last time that particular knowledge came in handy?� Ocisi retorted. �The act itself, never, yet the principle remains the basis for a great many accomplishments. Instantaneous molecular manipulation helped me save your life once, remember? Perhaps such a simple statement may seem meaningless on it�s own, yet with the benefit of a life behind it one might find meaning beyond the obvious.� Ocius said, his mood seeming to darken. Ocisi sat motionless as the memories of life and death played within his imagination. There were very few times in his life he�d been close to death, despite his very dangerous profession. He was one of the chosen few, beyond humanity in ability and potential, guns and knives weren�t even to the caliber of annoyances for one such as him, but once he�d been afraid of death, once he�d seen the smiling doorman that waits for all things at the end, and he had been humbled and glad for a reprieve. �You may have a point, though I never remembered philosophy being your area of expertise.� �Time turns all minds to pointless reflection my friend, and I�ve had enough time for that.� Ocius said, the eagerness to be rid of his current situation evident. �Well then, shall we discuss this in more fitting environs? You look like you could use a drink in any case.� Ocius had retrieved his coat from the stainless steel coat rack and opened the door in the space of one heartbeat to the next, the vacuum caused by his movement sent his desk into disarray with paperwork floating aimlessly to settle where it may. Smoke rose from the path he�d taken, leaving little smoldering footprints where he now stood. �You know they take the cost of repairs from my paycheck?� Chapter 2 Neo Yuppies �I never much cared for the atmosphere here.� Ocisi remarked. �What do you mean? It�s standard O2 Nitrogen mix, lightly scented with gin and hormones, same as any bar.� Ocius retorted facetiously. �Oh you over analytical bastard, you know what I mean.� Ocisi said, gesturing with an open palm, encompassing the entire room the duo now occupied, as if an explanation for his distaste were as evident as the glaring young women seated across the bar. The room was appointed sumptuously, deep leather couches lined the fresco walls, bedecked as they were with contemporary art pieces. Holo-vids of the latest journalism played the top networks anchors without voice, those who were interested could listen to the audio on their personal comm. units if the booze hadn�t taken away their desire for up to the minute reports on stock prices and sports scores. Here and there bored and boring nobodies dressed as somebodies waved alcoholic beverages around with varying degrees of abandon, expensive crystal glasses glinting dully in the dim light. One of these nobodies sat very near the two conversing men, his head lolling pointedly in the strange manner of a man who had a few too many too quick. His suit, though thoroughly rumpled, was of an obvious expensive cut. His drink, the last of what must have been a great many, sat mostly gone atop a circular disk of light built into the bar. The ghastly electric glow shining through it�s amber substance lent it the air of some mystical elixir, and perhaps that was what the hapless patron wished for; a magic potion with the ability to cure all his life�s many ills. He looked about to fall from his all too precarious barstool. �Take this fine gentleman for example, adding his particular odor to that mixture you just detailed. Maybe a bit more whiskey than gin for this one, and that all too pungent aroma of pointlessness. All these wretched wage-slaves basking in their own self-importance, paragons of wasted time. Can�t you feel your blood cooling from the mere proximity? Doesn�t it eat at your soul to see so much luxury and so little living?� Ocisi ranted, drunk all ready from his own draught of grandstanding. He was ever the orator, whether his audience was a class of young nexgen students in Primary, a ragged squad of underpaid and underfed soldiers, or his slightly inebriated drinking mate. �And that�s why you�re here, idn�t it?� Ocius said, sounding comically like a child finding difficulty with contractions. �To save my soul from the terrors of mundane existence? I had no clue you were such a pious man Ocisi, I had always taken you for the most profane of blasphemers, one who thought himself a god.� Ocisi looked hurt for a moment, as if Ocius had just slapped him. �I could care less about gods or religions, I�ve seen enough death to know that if there is a god he�s a right prick with a sick sense of humor, I wouldn�t count myself among divinity even if it came with keys to the executive washroom. All I know for certain is that men, yes MEN.� He emphasized the word as if this title were something astonishing, as if admitting to his humanity were a great and poignant acceptance to some debilitating weakness. ��like us aren�t meant to fester behind desks and file away our years neatly into precise memory banks, we�re not meant to be still and watch the world unfold. We�re meant to take center stage Ocius, and you know as well as I that you won�t last another 11 months in Peripheral Intelligence, you�ll go rogue long before that and find yourself on the other side of this invisible fence. So take your self righteous crap and shove it, and just take the god damned job I�m offering.� Ocisi was fuming by this point, and a few more eyes besides those of the young women across the bar were fixed upon him. Ocius looked at his friends unlined face, watched the rage subside as quickly as it had come. He had all ready begun to systematically eliminate all the alcohol toxins from his bloodstream and would be completely sober in a few more seconds. �Look, I didn�t mean any offense Ocisi, we�ve known each other a long time, we know each other too well perhaps. I�ll lay all my cards on the table if you do.� He said apologetically. There was silence for a moment more as Ocius took another drink from his beverage, a particularly hoppy sort of local microbrew, the trendy stuff these neo-yuppies guzzled with an absurd eagerness considering the triviality of their troubles, or perhaps because of that very fact. He drank purely out of habit as the force of his will alone coolly stamped out the effect of inebriation. . �Fine, here�s the deal. Central Precinct needs your skills, there�s no other way around it. They could only deny your singular ability for so long anyways, maybe another year or so at most, but recent events have forced the old bastards to rethink their condemnation.� Ocisi stated matter-of-factly, as if only prattling off a list of formalities. They both knew exactly how capable the other was, no feigned surprise or modesty necessary. �Recent events?� Ocius said. �Look, you know the drill. Suicide mission, details available if and when needed, no back up, hostile forces, yadda yadda yadda, do you want the job or not?� Ocisi said coldly. �I�m in.� Chapter 3 Temperature His apartment was cold on too many levels. One of these varieties of frigid was the sort of cold that chilled regardless of a thermostat setting. Ocius hadn�t really noticed this lack of warmth until now. He lived in a museum of modern furniture and minimalist design. �And what warmth might await such a mercenary as me?� Brief melodramatic visions of a Victorian hell blazed behind his eyes. Complete with decaying hands of men long dead reaching menacingly for his immortal soul. Such a literal translation of the hereafter spoken of in old books of a pass� religion would have been comical if they didn�t arise unbidden from his subconscious. He shuddered involuntarily as he removed his coat. He tossed the garment onto the floor. He wouldn�t bother to pick it up himself. A maid serviced the apartment daily, maintaining the display unit quality of his domicile. His wardrobe was stocked with enough coats that he didn�t have to ware the same one twice all season. Consumerism was the new religion after all, far more immediate and damning than those spectral fingers awaiting his soul in that flaming pit of torment. The night had progressed rather rapidly after he agreed to the uncertain terms of Ocisi�s offer. Many more drinks were had and many more establishments had been visited. By the end of the evening neither of them could quite recall the specifics of why they had met up in the first place. Ocius believed it had something to do with a research paper for Advanced Biological Engineering; Ocisi was convinced it was regarding the assassination of the prime director of Harcat sector 14. Ocius� head was swimming now, and he couldn�t decipher if this was in response to the alcohol or an over-expenditure of will. The night of drinking they�d just endured was a superhuman display in it�s own right, enough alcohol had been consumed between the two of them to poison a horse three times over, and they�d still both managed to foot race down First Avenue. Ocius had won of course. He supposed the mystery of his headache would be revealed in the morning, if he threw up blood it was nexgen burnout, if he simply threw up it was good old alcohol. He did so relish these little intrigues. He carried himself more so than walked into his bedroom, the feeling of an icebox became a condemnation here. If the rest of the house was chilly, his bedroom was trapped within an ice age. Memories from the evening broke into his consciousness, faces of the women he�d seen intermingling with those flaming dead men until he couldn�t tell ghastly revenant from sexual fantasy. It was then he decided sleep was in his best interest. The perfectly turned down bedding was folded over on one side, precisely as he requested. Every night had been the same since he�d left Central Precinct almost a year ago. He�d come home, watch some vids and trundle off to bed like any good citizen did after a long day at work. He�d almost come to believe this sort of routine could be tolerable, even enjoyable. Tonight the deadly chatter of gunfire sounded like a lullaby to his pounding head, Ocisi was right when he�d said he wouldn�t make another 11 months. Sleep mingled with waking dream as Ocius wrestled with events recorded within his mind with the precision of a holo-vid.