Corrupted

by Jeff C. Carter

“Go ahead, I’ll show you how it’s done,” Grady said.

Enforcer Barney Keepagami slipped on the Medical Examiner’s electronic goggles.  A perfect replica of a pale dead man floated in front of him.  Hovering next to the cadaver’s no-nonsense buzz cut was a name and occupation: Kyupiti Brantry, customs officer.  His brutish frame and rough hands clashed with his fashionable clothes and expensive bug shell jewelry.  Barney’s old detective training jumped to the conclusion that the customs officer had been taking bribes.  He dismissed the thought and watched Grady work.      

“Thanks to the deep scan we’re free to do a virtual autopsy any time we want,” Grady said.

“Back in my day they used arthroscopic threads,” Barney said.

“Yeah, and in the dark ages they cut cadavers open and pulled everything out,” Grady said with a shiver of disgust.  “Can you imagine?  Thank God for deep radiation scanning.  Every detail gets captured while the entire body is sterilized.  But here’s the best part…”  

The corpse grew larger until it filled Barney’s view like a foreign landscape. 

“Let’s take a look inside,” Grady said.

Everything tilted and the surface of the dead man rushed up to meet them.  Barney tensed as they smashed through the outer layer of fabric and skin.  They flew through a tangled forest of muscles and arteries towards a pulsing red horizon.

“The red lights are areas that the computer has flagged as outside the healthy base line,” Grady said.

They coasted through the abdominal wall and passed under the broad sweeping arches of the rib cage. “Arteries aren’t in bad shape for his age.  So where’s the red light coming from?”  Grady wondered.

The heart swelled to the size of a house while the red lights shrank down to glaring pin points.  No matter how far they zoomed in the red lights always slipped into the distance.  Finally, they skidded to a halt inside a grey patchwork of spheres pierced with glowing red lines.

“Incredible.  The injury is at the cellular level,” Grady gasped.

“Have you ever seen this before?”  Barney asked.

“Once.  Micrometeor damage.  It happens to meteor cowboys sometimes.  It’s a bad way to go.  I’m ruling this death by trauma,” Grady said. 

Barney pulled off the goggles and looked around the morgue.  He imagined the room stacked full of bodies after the bloody riot.  If there were any clues to glean from the inmate’s cadavers, they would be on these scans.

“Now, about your missing doctors.  What are their names?”

“Doctors Thaani Lev and Samuel Loomis.  They disappeared around the time of the riot.  Actually, I’d like to review all the scans from that period,” Barney said.

“Think they were lost in the shuffle?  I’ll pull up the whole batch.”

A long list of names rolled up onto the screen, but the doctors were not among them.

“Let me dive deeper.  Could be they were filed as Jon Avenirs.” A garbled list appeared on the screen and Grady hissed. “Dammit!  The files have been corrupted.”

Barney gave a low sigh of disappointment that held little surprise.  When would people learn that information was too important to entrust to machines?  The first thing he had learned on the job was that you could only trust hard evidence.

Barney glared at the computer screen and the fragmented list of the dead.  So many lives lost, so many questions without answers. “Did you perform these autopsies?”

“No.  But I remember who did,” Grady said.

Barney’s eyebrows perked up with renewed hope.

“His name was Dr. Kes.  Said he was with the ZMB.”

Barney rolled onto the balls of his feet, ready to go. “Where is he now? Can I speak with him?”

“He was just passing through.  The Peace Council brought him in to help process bodies while I was at the crime scene.  It’s possible he didn’t know our system, or just made a mistake.  We were completely swamped.”

“I suppose I’ll have to add him to my list of missing doctors,” Barney sighed.  “Where are the actual bodies now?”

“If you’re lucky they might be in the disposal bay, waiting for next of kin,” Grady said. 

Barney nodded and handed back the goggles. “I suppose I’ll go pay my respects.”

Expedition

by Jeff C. Carter

Barney didn’t bother taking out his badge as he entered the Avenir morgue.  In his experience, coroners were always happy to talk to someone.  A skinny man with long black hair sat on the examination table, his mouth agape, eyes hidden beneath a pair of electronic goggles.  Barney coughed twice to announce his presence before finally jostling the man by the shoulder.

The skinny man swatted away Barney’s hand and grunted. “I’m working!”

Barney fished out his badge and leaned in to the man’s ear.  “Me too.  I’m looking for some missing persons.”

The skinny man slid the goggles up and eyed the badge before sliding off the table. “Grady Wilkyn, Medical Examiner.  Pleased to meet you.  Don’t get a lot of enforcers down here.”

“I’m looking for two missing doctors from St. Christina’s Clinic.”

Grady grabbed a control pad and scrolled through data on a large screen.  “Missing, huh?  We haven’t had any unclaimed bodies.  Not since the riot,” Grady said.

An old disposal tech rolled in a gurney holding a cadaver. “Got a fresh one,” the old man said.

“Give me a hand here, officer,” Grady said.  He tossed a pair of sanitation gloves to Barney.  He grabbed the dead body by the ankles and indicated the examination table with a nod of his chin.

Barney reluctantly hooked his hands under the corpse’s armpits.  They set the body down on the table and the old man shuffled away with a wave. 

Barney had seen dead bodies before.  They never ceased to bother him.  He saw them as tangles of unanswered questions. “I just need to confirm that the missing doctors aren’t here, then I’ll leave you to your work,” Barney said.

“Sorry Officer, this takes priority.  Avenir is a closed environment.  No bio-hazards allowed.  Every cadaver gets an immediate and complete autopsy.  Watch your toes,” Grady said.

The examination table sank into the ground and vanished beneath a heavy lid.  The medical examiner pecked a few buttons on his control panel and a deep rumble shook the ground beneath Barney’s feet. 

Grady snapped off his gloves and turned back to his computer. “Alright, when did you lose your doctors?”

Barney looked down at the floor and then up at Grady.  “I thought you had to perform an autopsy,” Barney said.

“I just did.  Don’t they teach enforcers what the medical examiner does?”

Barney blushed. “It’s been a while.  I met Mr. Neils a few times.”

Grady scratched his head and then smiled.  “Oh yeah, he ran this place way back.  Things have changed.  The body is on its way to the disposal queue.  If there are any next of kin the computer has notified them.”

“And the autopsy?”Barney prompted.

The medical examiner handed Barney a pair of electronic goggles.  “See for yourself.”

Fingerprints

by Jeff C. Carter

Enforcer Keepagami stood before the St. Christina’s Clinic video wall and watched red handprints blink into existence, swarm and fade like a frenzied school of squid.

“Take me back further,” he said.

Nurse Vuong dialed back the art therapy wall’s timeline, jumping days into the past.  The crimson marks dwindled, crowded out by finger painted beetles, faces and space ships.

“Run it forward.  Stop,” he said.

The first handprint appeared, roughly forced onto the digital canvas in blood red, wavy strokes flaring out from the fingers like tentacles.  Enforcer Keepagami double tapped on the handprint and information blossomed forth.

St. Christina, Smitz.  AKA ‘Smudge’.  No last name on file.  Ward of Avenir.  Committed for pyromania, self mutilation, and violent behavior.  He was the first to draw that handprint symbol, the ‘mark of Rahab’.  Could he have incited the inmates into the bloody riot?  His I.Q. and social skills were non-existent.  Was his simply the spark of madness that ignited a mass psychosis?

“Who was his doctor?”

“Smudge?  His therapist was Dr. Loomis.  But Smudge hated everyone.  He would only talk to Dr. Lev,” the nurse said.

“When can I speak with the doctors?”

Nurse Vuong stared at him, confused. “Dr. Lev went missing during the riot and Dr. Loomis disappeared a week ago,” she said.  “I thought you were trying to find them!”

Enforcer Keepagami rubbed his face to mask his irritation.  He was semi-retired.  He didn’t mind thawing out a cold case now and then for extra income.  This case was still bloody and raw, and he would have to build it from the ground up.

“We’re still gathering info for our investigation.  Can you pull up the video for the day of the riot?”

Nurse Vuong glared at the enforcer and then prodded her control panel.  A renewed look of confusion crept across her face. “It’s gone.  The entire day!” she gasped.

Enforcer Keepagami confirmed it for himself.  A full twenty five hours, deleted.  He closed his eyes and stood motionless for a long moment.

Smudge hardly seemed capable of breaking into the computer and erasing the video, either.  Did he have help from the staff?  The nurse seemed an unlikely suspect.  Where were the doctors?  Dead?  One went missing during the riot.  One vanished only days ago.  Was it connected?  Was there more behind the ‘mark of Rahab’ than the feverish chaos of a broken mind?        

“Enforcer?”  Nurse Vuong rousted him from his meditation.

He opened his eyes and they sparkled with renewed light. “I need personnel records for everyone on staff, including doctors.  I want patient files, therapy recordings, and specs for the clinic,” he said.

Nurse Vuong prodded her control panel. “I can transmit most of the files now.  Some hard copies from the archives will take longer,” she said.  Her shoulders drooped suddenly under an invisible burden.

He realized that she was completely alone.  The clinic had been empty since the riot, leaving her with nothing but grief and survivor’s guilt.

“You will find the doctors, won’t you?” she asked.

Enforcer Keepagami nodded. “I promise to do my best.  I’ll get started looking for them right now.” 

His footsteps echoed in the hollow clinic as he headed towards the morgue. 

Hybrid

by Jeff C. Carter -

Barney Keepagami wriggled his fingers into the soil, searching for the fine thread-like feeder roots of the genetically modified plant.  There were machines that could handle such simple tasks but he liked to dig.  His finger brushed an invisible string and when he closed his eyes he could trace it back, branching like a fractal, to the heart of the plant.  He slowly pulled away the dirt and exposed the tangled roots to the light. 

He grabbed a handful of dry Eclectia soil and packed it around the roots, praying that the plant would not choke on the orange grit.  He hoped that one day these hybrids, part ancient earth plant, part alien plant, would find purchase on the planet below. 

He held up a small pot containing one of the grey alien weeds that clung to the planet’s barren surface.  It was useless for agriculture, yet Barney admired its tenacity.  If mankind hoped to last on Eclectia they could learn much from this dauntless creature.

Barney left the experimental agriculture lab, passing through a series of decontamination chambers.  He finally emerged with a whoosh, stepping into the space station’s massive greenhouse.  He took a deep breath of air and held it, savoring the fresh clean taste that was so rare on Avenir. 

The thick canopy of plants purified the air supply and provided the luxury of fresh food to the lucky few who could afford it.  It was a marvelous system, and Barney knew that the seaweed aquaculture labs of the underwater cities were even more abundant.  Barney dreamed of a future beyond stagnant space stations and dank underwater cities.  He dreamed of a lush and verdant Eclectia, a place where people could cultivate the soil, live off the land and make a real connection with their world.

A whiff of stale air assaulted his nose and he turned around in time to see a tired looking enforcer wander through the indoor forest. “Officer Solorzano?” Barney called.

Solorzano squinted, his eyes unaccustomed to the strange yellow glare of the simulated sun overhead.  He shaded his eyes and spotted Barney. “Barnacle!” He indicated the trees with a nod of his chin. “You call this retirement?  Working as a gardener?”

Barney gave the enforcer a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. “Something like that.  How have you been?”

“I’m beat.  The P.K.’s running us ragged.  The good news is that I can finally throw you some of the overflow.”

 “I’m sorry, but I’ve got my hands full here.  I don’t have the time for a cold case right now.”

Solorzano shook his head. “This one is red hot.  What do you know about the St. Christina’s Riot?”

Barney had seen the news.  The entire affair had been so shocking and aberrant.  So inexplicable.  The investigation was still open.  There were clues out there, answers to be found.  An old stirring welled up inside of him. 

“Not much,” Barney said, “but I’ll do some digging.”