Short Story: Puppet Masters
"I swear, I'm not a synth." The old man sobs from the back of my cruiser. I check my rear view mirror and see him pressing his weathered face into the palms of gnarled hands, a fringe of silver gray hair riming the edge of his bald dome. I do my best to ignore it, something I'm good at. They always protest, always say they're human. It doesn't matter. They all go to the same place any way.
There's a small snap as my partner opens her lighter, flicking the lid back on the hinge, the dull strike of the flint on the steel as she lights it. "Did you bring enough for the whole class?" I ask, sarcastically, holding out my hand. I see the grimace on her face out of the corner of my eye and do my best not to grin.
"Vulture." She mutters, putting the lit smoke in between my thumb and forefinger before lighting up another one for herself. The grin wins out and she smacks me in the shoulder for my failure. Ellie and I have been partners for three years now, ever since my last one got himself shot in the back of the head. The memory of Rineer's death stirs something in me, but I push it down, smother it as I take a long drag on the cigarette. She's a good kid. Young, idealistic, but hard working and always does her share of the paperwork.
As we pull up to the gatehouse to the processing facility, Ellie and I pull out our badges. Vic is working the booth today, his gut stretching the khaki material of his shirt to near destructive limits, and he just nods us through, pressing the big red button that raises the yellow gate bar. I nod back to him as I accelerate through the entryway, our cruiser pulling away silently thanks to its electric engine. The road up to the facility's drop off point winds a bit, the large white building's sloped roof angling down, making it look like triangle that's been planted on its side, the tip severed by some enormous knife.
Two men greet us as we pull up to the curb, stepping forward to lock the old man in a pair of braces that wrap around his shoulders and hips, each of them attached to a separate metal rod that allows the orderlies to force him to move as they wish. I finish my cigarette and stomp it out on the cement of the sidewalk as Ellie and I approach the automatic doors, the glass and metal retracting when we get close enough. A neon sign flashes the words "Humanity First!" at us as we enter, our foot steps echoing off the tiles of the floor as we walk inside to fill out the paperwork.
Ah, paperwork. No matter how much better the world got after the "Patriotic Unification of Humanity Initiative", there would still be paperwork. Paperwork to get your food allotment. Paperwork to get your work assignment. Paperwork to get the screening to get your paperwork for procreation. A man's life would be filled with more paperwork than there were real trees to make the paper out of anymore.
Twenty five years since the Initiative had began. Twenty five years since the world governments and mega corporations that had become de facto governments had told us that androids walked amongst us. Twenty five years since those governments and corps had merged to become the single world order that now ruled us all. Twenty five years since they'd begun having the population inform on one another when someone was suspected of being an android. Twenty five years of arrests and fear. If you had told me all those years ago that I'd be doing three times the paperwork now that I was doing then, I'd have told you to let the synths have it all.
I sigh as I see Banner waiting for us, the administrator of the facility as lean and sharp as always. Hair too well kept, too well... appointed, to its place. Smile painted on like a narrow, crooked line same as it always was. Skin that was sallow and paper thin, giving him an almost bruised look. Small watery blue eyes set too deep into his face. He looked the same as always, as though he was frozen in time. I idly wonder if he might be a synth, but I know he isn't. "Officer Pagel. Officer Beech." He says, his voice the same pleasantly unpleasant tone it always is. Like pouring a mix of honey and peanut butter in your ear. Puts my teeth on edge. "How pleasant to see you again. I was hoping it would be you two bringing in our latest catch."
"Banner." I say, keeping my tone neutral. That's another thing I'm good at. Ellie just grunts an acknowledgment. She hates him even more than I do, and that's saying something since I'd like to strangle the man with my bare hands. "Got the paperwork?" I ask, a voice inside me screaming in agony at another round of form 22b-1a-c, in-triplicate-thank-you-very-much, no-it-can't-be-xeroxed, no-we-don't-have-carbon-paper, no-you-can't-just-fill-it-out-online, yes-by-hand, regulations-are-why-officer, please-and-thank-you. Banner smiles and ushers us into the usual room, two cups of mediocre, but hot, coffee waiting for us on the rectangular metal table. The forms are already on the table beside a pair of pens in the middle.
"Bathroom?" Ellie asks Banner, breaking her usual silence. I can practically feel his shock mirrored on my face, but I shake it off quicker.
"Down the hall, second door on the left." I say, preempting the director. He nods enthusiastically, opening the door for her as he steps outside to return to his office. "I'm not doing your portion!" I shout after her as the door swings shut. I let out a disgruntled sigh as I settle in the chair, pulling out my own cigarettes and lighting one up. They might not have figured out how to prevent smoking from giving you cancer, but at least they'd found a simple way to cure it.
-----
I'm halfway through the second 22b when I notice that Ellie still isn't back. Twenty minutes is a bit unusual. Something tickles in the back of my mind. A memory of when something like this had happened before. I crush the cigarette out on the tabletop, my gut uneasy. I make my way out of the room, and head to the restroom. The door is unlocked. I pull my pistol, the model deceptively light, giving me a quicker draw than many expect. I knock on the door but don't hear anything so I push it open and peer inside. Empty. I wonder for a moment where she is, but I already know the answer. I just don't like it.
I head down the hall and find Banner's office door ajar. I hear whispers from inside the room, see Ellie pointing her weapon at Banner. "Ellie," I ask gently as I step into the room, gun leveled on her, "what are you doing?"
She turns, her face surprised, then worried as she looks at me. She's nervous, sweating, her black, curly ringlets practically dripping. A bead of sweat makes its way down her olive skin. But her hand is rock steady as she keeps the gun aimed at Banner. "Mikey..." She says, her tone distressed. "Listen, there's something going on, something bad." Her eyes bounce back and forth between me and Banner.
"We've been partners for three years now, kid." I tell her, slowly lowering my pistol with one hand, raising the other to show her I was on her side. I slip the gun back in my holster and I see her visibly relax. "Just tell me what's going on, I'm sure we can work this out."
She breaths out slowly, shuddering slightly as she does so. "It's all been a lie." Ellie says, her gun lowering slightly as she waves at Banner and his desk. "There never were any synths. They've all been lying this whole time. All those people..." Her voice chokes up and tears well in her eyes.
"Why?" I ask, quietly, shock bleeding into my voice, my heart thundering in my chest. "What have you found out? How do you know?" I ask her.
"Not sure why yet." She asks, her eyes locking back on Banner, murderous intent in them. "That's why I'm having this piece of shit tell me. There are files. Files that prove everything I've said. I've got a journalist friend. If I can get them to him, he can put the word out, maybe bring about a reckoning."
"What's your friend's name?" I ask, relaxing my posture, lowering my hands back down to my sides. "How do we get in touch with him?"
"Trask." She says, a triumphant smile on her face. I can tell that she'd been worried about whose side I'd take. That she'd hoped for a while now that I'd be willing to help her. That she'd hoped she could trust me.
"Trask?" I ask, incredulity in my voice. "At the *Post*?"
"Yes, he's the one who let me in that there was something wrong." Ellie tells me. "He--"
But she's cut off by the sound of my pistol discharging as I draw and fire it. The first shot hits her in the chest, under the collar bone, spinning her around and slamming her into the wall. Banner screams shrilly in fear, leaping backwards in the hopes of being safe from any crossfire. The second shot slams into her cheek, the lightweight bullet piercing her flesh and drilling straight into her brain. Her corpse slumps, the gun in its hand clattering to the floor. I sigh as I look at the cooling body on the floor, shake my head once in sorrow.
"Thank you, Officer Pagel." Banner squeaks out from the other side of the room. I sigh again, looking at him. I kind of wish he'd gotten killed in the crossfire too, but then I’d have more paperwork to do. Small blessings, I guess.
"Have this all taken care of. Trask too." I order him. "I'm beat and I'm going home." I turn and walk towards the door, stopping as I reach it. "Oh, and Banner?"
"Yes, sir?" He asks, his voice trembling.
"This is the second time I've had to shoot my partner because they've gotten into your office. This time they held you at gun point." I glare at him. "I liked both of them a lot better than you. The next time this happens I'm shooting you first." The thin little man is quick to apologize and promise to be more careful. But I'm going to report him to Central all the same. There's been too many leaks over the last ten years, since I was officially briefed on the reason for the Purge, mostly due to the laziness of pieces of shit like Banner getting sloppy as time went on. Central would either re-educate him or kill him, but either way it wouldn't be my problem any more. I light up another cigarette as I walk out of the building to my cruiser.
I sigh as I turn on the engine. My mind doesn't bother contemplating if I'm in the right for doing what I do. For killing people who come too close to learning that our corporate masters decided to thin the herd for the sake of their peace and stability. The answer is obvious to me, as it has been every day since I was brought into Central's Internal Affairs squad; I'm evil. They don't pick good guys for this job.
I wonder who they'll make my partner this time. I sigh again. Hopefully the new guy will be less cautious, move faster so I have to spend less time with him. Makes it easier when I don't spend much time with them.
