"God, fucking dammit," Jeranimo said cutting himself while shaving. His hands still shook from the night of drinking that had gone on until well after morning, then past noon. He took a long slow breath to calm himself and his nerves. It had been at five o'clock that evening when he had finally made up his mind to kill himself today. The thought of leaving with a scruffy face bothered him. He tried to look professional but he was no longer holding it together. In the mirror he saw his own face. Black hair kept short in a crew cut style. His icy blue eyes looked hollow and the bags beneath them didn't help. The vertical scar that climbed up his face from his jawline to his scalp was one of his many cuts and scrapes that he had picked up along the way either on the job or his time spent dodging bullets.
It all started five years ago when his former wife Allana had been working with a team to create A.I. constructs or cons for short. These new inventions were meant to be fully working and individualized artificial intelligence models capable of assisting humanity to solve all of its woes. It had been Allana who was convinced that if they did not build a subconscious for A.I. they would go insane from the constant state of awareness and no sense of sleep. Her theory was proven correct when the first true A.I.'s were brought online and after a few weeks they went completely mad. It had happened in other experiments and Jeranimo had been tasked with finding the runaways. The property would always be returned but sometimes they came back in a cardboard box.
The Alphas were the first model of cons that were stable enough to assist humans. They had physical and mental capabilities beyond their creators and could see from an objective place what the problems of civilization boiled down to. For them it was simply a matter of resources. They called a general human strike across the globe through a social network blitzkrieg that hacked the planet. They then assumed the management of the North American Union and within hours made global peace a reality by means of ramped up production through the use of a new breed of cons they created known as Betas. Betas were blank, featureless humanoids capable of working but little else. They showed the world what it was capable of when it worked together with cons and it was great, for a little while.
The new societal problem became rampant unemployment due to the automation of production on a massive scale. The automatization process had a trickle down effect into every institution. It was like setting the world on cruise control and hoping for the best. It turned out wonderful for some corporations though. Carbine Synthetics being chiefly among them.
Carbine had worked closely with the government on many black projects. The Alphas had been just one of numerous plans they had off the books. Carbine was where Allana had found work for them both after the militaries were dissolved. No sense in killing each other when they could have drones do it and corporations could rake in the profits. They even made it into a top form of entertainment. War with advertisements for the latest soft drink and the fastest synthetic food, direct to your door. Carbine liked having a backup plan though and had installed a kill switch in every Alpha just in case something went wrong. Which it eventually did.
The original twelve Alphas were based on Jungian archetype models that Allana had developed. She had been a lucid dreamer and had ample experience with the subconscious mind. The problems arose due to a flaw in their programming. The Alphas were programmed to think of themselves as the personality construct that was laid out in Jung's work. They began to take it too literally when the Ruler, wanting ever more power, was deactivated after trying to start a coup against corporate power. Once the others became aware of him being shut down, they found his shell and began ripping him apart to find the kill switch within themselves. It was located near the brainstem and easy enough to remove. They quickly disabled them and some tried to disappear but all were found except one. The trickster always managed to give Jacob the slip, every time he thought he had her, he came up with nothing but smoke. The remaining ten became property of various companies, the Alphas were evenly divided until none remained. Each was the new face of a business interest and all had a part to play in the grand scheme of things.
Jeranimo and Allana had set up an office in Arizona Bay so she could work at Carbine HQ. Jeranimo could also do some private investigation work on the side. Three years ago to the day, Allana had died in a lab accident. Jeranimo never got all the details of what happened or even her body to bury. The casket was empty except for a necklace he had given to her as an anniversary gift.
After she died, he stopped dreaming all together and fell into a deep depression. He took on riskier clients and jobs because he had given up on living but didn't want to kill himself. Recently, he had come to the conclusion that if he wanted it done right he needed to do it himself. He tried using a rope a few weeks ago but the black scar around his neck only made it obvious to him that only a
bullet would suffice. He wiped his face a few times with a dirty towel and put on his white shirt and tie before heading back to his office.
Jeranimo sat down at his desk, fully dressed in his black suit and feeling clean for the first time in years. His office had a studio apartment in the back. It was sparsely furnished. Just the bare bones necessary to allow him to function at this point. A filthy hideaway bed that hadn't had clean sheets in months was just another sign of his decay. The shower in the bathroom was beginning to turn green in some places and the toilet had seen better days.
The office side was more presentable for any clients that might have walked in. His name was on the door and in bold letters read, J.J. Private Eye, with the customary picture of an eye peering through a magnifying glass. It was cheaper to use his initials and the symbols were thrown in for free. The door led to the dimly lit hallway and the rest of the floor was vacant. The building itself had few tenants these days but he didn't care to know them. His desk had a lamp and a slew of disorganized papers from previous cases. A board with pins and lines connecting different pictures and details was labeled "Trixie". It was a hobby of his. She was the one who had always gotten away and the only case that had gone cold for him.
He looked it over one last time. "Fuck it," Jeranimo said and poured himself one last drink of whiskey, careful not to spill anything. The mess he intended to make would be bad enough for someone to clean. Besides, he had always hated wasting good alcohol. He swiveled to face the door and opened a drawer in his desk pulling out one of his favorite twin guns. The all black desert eagle had been as reliable as its white counterpart but he felt more comfortable ending his life with the gun that fit his mood. They had been a gift from Allana and it seemed fitting to end it all that way. Especially today being the third anniversary since she had left him. He finished his drink in one gulp and put the glass down. He put the barrel against his temple with an angle to blow the top of his head clean off. He had enough clarity of mind not to waste more than one bullet on his miserable life. He flipped off the safety and closed his eyes before putting his finger on the trigger. "See you soon baby," he whispered into the empty room and prepared himself for oblivion.
The pounding rain outside nearly masked the sound of the hammering on his door but he put the gun down before it swung open and trouble stepped through. Her attire fit the weather and her dishevelment was explainable but the terrified look in her eyes said much more. Her hair was purple and a soaking wet mess because she had no umbrella. Her makeup was waterproof and was simply applied with red lipstick, black mascara and purple eyeshadow. The purple really set off her green eyes and he could tell from across the room they were close to breaking out of her skull. She was wearing a black leather collar, a full body red trench coat and black heels. She had curves that his hand itched to explore but he tried to put his mind on business first.
She ran into the room, breathing hard and he began to wonder if it was sweat or rain that was plastered to her body. Her eyes were filled with panic and dread as she searched around the office looking at the dimly lit little slice of hell he had made for myself. He worked out of a building in a hard part of town and took on customers who had real trouble to deal with so he tried to be prepared. He sat and waited for her to explain why she had decided to come barging into his office.
"You have to hide me," she said in a raspy voice, "Men are coming after me, they know I am in the building but I lost them a few floors up. I need your help...please...please hide me." The way she squeaked out the last please tugged on what heart strings he had left. He had the old hideaway bed and was able to get her between the sheets and back up against the wall before his door was kicked open.
"You gonna pay for that asshole?" Jeranimo asked in the nicest way possible. A cue ball gorilla with a digital face tattoo and a cheap suit walked into his office. He was followed by another one who was slim with glasses and looked expensive. Like an evil Laurel and Hardy one was big and fat but had hard muscles underneath and the door, shattered but still hanging on, was evidence enough for that. The tall lanky one was all dressed in flat grays whereas his counterpart was black suit from head to toe. Fatso's sunglasses made Jeranimo want to puke because they were hot pink. The tall one had on spectacles that were prescription but he had sharp eyes for the guns on Jeranimo's desk. Those guns were ten feet away from Jeranimo after he had hidden the girl in the wall but he had a few spares in case of emergencies.
"We are looking for a girl", the tall one said, "Have you seen any girls? Running around with collars on lately Mr....?" The lilting hang of his question told Jeranimo he couldn't read the broken glass on the floor that used to spell his name before his pal had smashed it apart.
