The Intelligence


The Intelligence

“Tell me, Mr. Barker…” He smiled. “You don’t mind me calling you, Ted, do you Mr. Barker?” The grin grew wider…

“No, no, of course not: ” his eyes, bloodshot, dribbled. “Why should I?”

The Detective watched Barker. “Tell me, Ted, when did you notice the anomaly for the first time?”

“Anomaly? It wasn’t a frecking anomaly,” His face grew pale, eyes blinking wildly. “it was a gawd dang roach sitting there watching me, studying me. Like you are now… intelligently. Unless you’re an idiot, and intelligence is an anomaly that only roaches have.”

“No, no…” He tried to calm the man, interrogations were always difficult with civilians. “I mean, exactly when did you notice the ‘roach’ was intelligent? What were you doing? Could you walk me through your day? Tell me about yourself, Ted, I’m interested in helping you…” He spoke calmly, reassuringly.

“You think I know what time of day it was? WTF? Who gives a crap what time of day it was? I tell you it was intelligent, it could think? Roaches aren’t supposed to think, only humans are; you understand? We’re different, their just frekking bugs…” He pulled a pack of cigs out of his right front pocket.

“I’m sorry, Ted, but you can’t smoke in here.” Firm, but kind…

“I don’t give a shite about your freking rules and regulations… I’m going to smoke. You get me? I’m going to smoke this whole pack, you understand? What kind of bimbo are you anyway?” He rambled on and on and on…

The Interview was over. Detective Boner picked up his notes, nodded. Walked out. Turned to the psyche and tech-comm, “He’s all yours, Doc. Not going to get much else out of him. How many does that make now? Two hundred? I thought these distributed systems were undetectable? You guys up in GovComm ought to get into another trade if you ask me.”

The two men said nothing. Boner knew what would happen next. It always did. Maybe it was best this way. The poor bastard wouldn’t need to know the truth. Who’d believe him anyway? Boner thought to himself: “Sometimes I wish they’d end it for me, too. Knowing this thing is out there now; alive, intelligent, out-of-control and deadly gives me the hibbie-jibbies. I mean who can you trust anymore? I don’t even trust myself.”

(Another spur of the moment piece of crap I’m working on… dribble from the inner cores…)

©Steven Craig Hickman, 2016. All Rights Reserved.

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