Read Online Sins of the Father by Mitchel Scanlon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mitchel Scanlon
Tags: Science-Fiction
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insert your building keycard and enter your personal identification number if you wish to continue."
Suppressing a yawn, Anderson pulled the Justice Department override card from her utility belt and pushed it into the keycard slot. It had been a long night, and she was tired. Her original double-shift had ended two hours ago, but it had now been extended into a third eight-hour segment. After riding over to Omar House, she had been giving a new assignment. A homicide at the Franz Kafka Office-Plex in Sector 45. The victim had been killed on the two-hundredth floor, but so far the elevator seemed unwilling to take her any higher than one hundred and ninety.
"Thank you, Judge," the tone of the elevator's voice changed after she inserted her card. It almost purred. "You are now cleared to progress." She felt a vague sensation of movement as the elevator began to rise.
The override card was standard issue: as much a part of a Judge's regular arsenal as the Lawgiver and daystick. It allowed Judges to override locks and gain access to any building or vehicle in the city. Removing the card, Anderson yawned once more. Before leaving Omar, she had been able to grab a few minutes in a sleep-machine or Total Relaxation Inducer. In theory, ten minutes inside a TRI was worth the same as a full night's sleep. In practice, Anderson had always found sleep machine sessions to be a poor substitute for natural rest. Admittedly, she no longer felt as mind-numbed and weary as she had when she had entered the machine, but she felt none of the freshness and new perspective that a few hours' real sleep would have given her. Instead, she currently felt like three day-old, re-heated munce.
I can see why they say you should only use a TRI in an emergency, she thought. If we went back to using them all the time, it wouldn't be long before the Big Meg was being policed by sleep-deprived zombies. She smiled inwardly. Though, given some of the stone-faced Judges I've worked with over the years, you have to wonder.
The elevator doors opened, its smooth electronic voice telling her to "have a nice day" as she stepped from inside it. There was a Tek-Judge waiting for her in the hallway, wearing a scanalyser eyepiece clipped to the side of his helmet. Glancing down at his uniform, she saw his name was Tolsen.
"Anderson?" the Tek-Judge extended a hand in welcome. "Control said you were on your way. They've assigned the street Judge who was working the case back to normal rotation. I'm supposed to get you up to speed, then it's up to you how you want to proceed with it. The body's this way."
Gesturing for her to follow him, the Tek-Judge led her to one of the offices off the hallway. As they stepped through the doorway, Anderson read the name on the ersatz brass plaque mounted on the outside of the office door. Nales & Associates, Import and Export.
"The victim has been identified as James Nales, the company CEO," Tolsen said to her. "He was working late in his office. We found balance sheets on the screen of the computer at his desk. Looks like he was going through the accounts."
The body lay on the floor in the outer office. It was covered in an opaque plasteen sheet, with a couple of Judge-auxiliaries hovering around it like bored mourners at a funeral that had run on longer than expected.
"Has the body been examined by a Med-Judge yet?" she asked Tolsen.
"The Med-Judge has been and gone," he said. "He got called away on another case, but asked me to tell you his findings. Pending a full autopsy, he's ruled the cause of death as asphyxia resulting from manual strangulation. We were supposed to be shipping the body back to the Sector House morgue for the post mortem, but I figured you'd want to see it first."
He nodded towards one of the auxiliaries, who pulled back the sheet. Looking down, Anderson found she was staring at the body of a thickset man somewhere in his late thirties. He might have once been almost handsome, but death had made him
Suppressing a yawn, Anderson pulled the Justice Department override card from her utility belt and pushed it into the keycard slot. It had been a long night, and she was tired. Her original double-shift had ended two hours ago, but it had now been extended into a third eight-hour segment. After riding over to Omar House, she had been giving a new assignment. A homicide at the Franz Kafka Office-Plex in Sector 45. The victim had been killed on the two-hundredth floor, but so far the elevator seemed unwilling to take her any higher than one hundred and ninety.
"Thank you, Judge," the tone of the elevator's voice changed after she inserted her card. It almost purred. "You are now cleared to progress." She felt a vague sensation of movement as the elevator began to rise.
The override card was standard issue: as much a part of a Judge's regular arsenal as the Lawgiver and daystick. It allowed Judges to override locks and gain access to any building or vehicle in the city. Removing the card, Anderson yawned once more. Before leaving Omar, she had been able to grab a few minutes in a sleep-machine or Total Relaxation Inducer. In theory, ten minutes inside a TRI was worth the same as a full night's sleep. In practice, Anderson had always found sleep machine sessions to be a poor substitute for natural rest. Admittedly, she no longer felt as mind-numbed and weary as she had when she had entered the machine, but she felt none of the freshness and new perspective that a few hours' real sleep would have given her. Instead, she currently felt like three day-old, re-heated munce.
I can see why they say you should only use a TRI in an emergency, she thought. If we went back to using them all the time, it wouldn't be long before the Big Meg was being policed by sleep-deprived zombies. She smiled inwardly. Though, given some of the stone-faced Judges I've worked with over the years, you have to wonder.
The elevator doors opened, its smooth electronic voice telling her to "have a nice day" as she stepped from inside it. There was a Tek-Judge waiting for her in the hallway, wearing a scanalyser eyepiece clipped to the side of his helmet. Glancing down at his uniform, she saw his name was Tolsen.
"Anderson?" the Tek-Judge extended a hand in welcome. "Control said you were on your way. They've assigned the street Judge who was working the case back to normal rotation. I'm supposed to get you up to speed, then it's up to you how you want to proceed with it. The body's this way."
Gesturing for her to follow him, the Tek-Judge led her to one of the offices off the hallway. As they stepped through the doorway, Anderson read the name on the ersatz brass plaque mounted on the outside of the office door. Nales & Associates, Import and Export.
"The victim has been identified as James Nales, the company CEO," Tolsen said to her. "He was working late in his office. We found balance sheets on the screen of the computer at his desk. Looks like he was going through the accounts."
The body lay on the floor in the outer office. It was covered in an opaque plasteen sheet, with a couple of Judge-auxiliaries hovering around it like bored mourners at a funeral that had run on longer than expected.
"Has the body been examined by a Med-Judge yet?" she asked Tolsen.
"The Med-Judge has been and gone," he said. "He got called away on another case, but asked me to tell you his findings. Pending a full autopsy, he's ruled the cause of death as asphyxia resulting from manual strangulation. We were supposed to be shipping the body back to the Sector House morgue for the post mortem, but I figured you'd want to see it first."
He nodded towards one of the auxiliaries, who pulled back the sheet. Looking down, Anderson found she was staring at the body of a thickset man somewhere in his late thirties. He might have once been almost handsome, but death had made him
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