Read Chrono Inquisitor (Gods Be Damned) Online
Authors: Rien Reigns
I put my hands up to protect my face.
“Pervert,” someone shouted.
“This is all a misunderstanding,” I said, blocking a blow from the man, realizing he didn’t have a Chrono on either of his wrists.
Great. A Human Purist, I thought. That’s all I needed, to get in to a brawl with a bunch of holier-than-thou pricks.
“Creep,” said someone else.
“I’m calling the cops,” said the woman who’d taken the girl from me. “Y’all witnessed this man tried to kidnap my daughter.”
For fuck’s sake.
I unholstered the Glock at my side.
“He’s got a gun!” someone shouted.
The mob ran for cover.
I put the weapon away and yelled after the fleeing crowd. “It was a mistake. I wasn’t kidnapping her. I thought the truck wouldn’t stop in time. I thought I was saving her life.” I almost added that I was an Inquisitor, but it wouldn’t have helped matters.
‹“Kali, contact the local authorities and explain the situation. Provide them with whatever it takes to make it so I can have my coffee in peace.”›
‹Contacting.›
I’d lost my hat in the hullabaloo. Looking around I found it a few feet away. Stepped on.
I picked it up, brushed it off,
punched out the dent from the asshole’s foot, and put it on.
What the fuck was I thinking
? There hadn’t been a vehicular accident in years. Not since full automation. The day was shaping up to be a horrendous one. At the time I should have known, or at least suspected, it was only going to get worse.
I made my way back across the street to the diner not even bothering to look for any traffic.
The entrance was one of those revolving doors normally found when entering a skyscraper. The diner did have a few floors above it, probably offices or apartments, but it wasn’t nearly big enough to warrant the energy efficiency of such a door. Besides, the diner was most likely cut off from the rest of the building.
Both the door and the privacy glass were expensive, which indicated the diner did fairly well to be able to afford such luxuries. It was beginning to remind me of old ritzy hotels. I’d stayed in quite a few growing up, as well as over the years on assignments. While impressed by such things in my youth, I
wasn’t in my older age, which is why I chose instead to sleep in my pad whenever I could get away with it.
Somehow I knew that just like those hotels had left me unsatisfied, so would this diner.
Can’t be that bad though, I thought, attempting to reassure myself. They supposedly serve a real cup o' Joe.
My optimistic side tried to alter my state of mind to manifest a pleasant fate, but my pessimistic self was holding the reins as of late.
I pushed my way through the door continuing on the path I’d already chosen because I was too hungry, and ultimately too lazy, to either change my outlook or the venue.
Standing in the micro lobby the first thing I noticed wasn’t the trite appearance of a really old-fashioned diner with checkerboard floors. Instead, it was that I wasn’t overwhelmed by the scent of animal-based products being sizzled and seared. Sure, my nose detected what was supposed to be cooked mammalian and avian carcasses, but my nose knew well enough, it was nothing more than imitation hippy vegan scientist concocted bullshit.
Disappointed, I made an about-face maneuver, intending to leave. I stopped where I stood, not taking another step, because outside the diner was Faris Shakir Rashad, my most recent assignment, walking down the sidewalk. Still a free man.
Why the hell hadn’t the Cleaners picked him up yet, I wondered.
Not wanting to be recognized by Rashad since I was no longer undercover and not wearing the attire I had adopted while investigating him, I looked around for a place to flee if the guy come through the door.
I spotted a washroom to my right which would work.
But I didn’t need to use it for cover.
Rashad kept on walking.
With a sigh of relief I did another 180° turn and made the final decision to stay.
The hostess, a brown-eyed brunette slightly on the plump side, obviously unable to afford the fat burning myte upgrade, smiled at me and with a friendly disposition said, “Good first shift, sir. Welcome to Francine’s. Will others be accompanying you?”
I removed my shades and put them away in compartment 11. I was glad she either hadn’t seen the scene outside a minute ago, or she had enough decency not to acknowledge it. Even with her little bit of pudginess here and there I thought she was quite attractive. Had it been any other day I would have instantly begun casting my incantation of sexual desire upon her. Unlucky for her, I’d awoken on the wrong side of Wednesday.
“Solitary,” I said, but then I happened to glance over at all the other lonely individuals who were sitting on red swivel stools at the long black counter - the solitary designated seating area. Just one more thing I hated about this city. The majority of them were men and looked to be standard laborers in their assorted colored coveralls, signifying their status in society. Their heads were down and they unenthusiastically shoveled food into their mouths.
Maybe some flirting would put me in a better mood, I thought. Who knows, maybe I’ll even get lucky.
I looked over at the booths and saw an empty one at the far end of the diner next to a gaggle of girls who were flirting with their waiter - who wasn’t remotely as attractive as me. I looked back at the counter and was conscious of myself giving a slight headshake. I didn’t want to join the drones and make myself any more depressed than I already was.
I turned back to the hostess. She was looking down at a sheetscreen. Seconds later, she told me, “Seat S6,” and pointed to a vacant stool.
I gave her my best smile and said “I’ll take a booth, please.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I swear I recorded you saying, ‘solitary.’”
I decided to try casting one of my seduction spells and leaned in a little closer. “I’m sure you get this a lot, but you have beautiful eyes.”
She gave me a flirtatious smile along with a flutter of her eyelashes. The multi-colors of her mascara and eyeliner reminded me of a butterfly I’d seen in a museum over a decade ago.
T
hen her smile faded as she obviously listened to her CerA inform her I had indeed said, ‘Solitary.’
“Wait, you did say-”
Smiling wider I placed my hand on hers. “I did. It’s just,” I sighed trying to come up with a good excuse.
I just wanted some fucking coffee and a decent meal, damn it.
I forced myself to keep smiling. A second later I came up with something. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I’m claustrophobic. Sitting at a counter shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers sends me into a panic attack. Don’t ask me why. I’ve seen dozens of shrinks and paid for every sort of mental myte upgrade there is, but alas, nothing has worked. Do you think you could help a fella out and let me sit in a booth?”
She didn’t say anything immediately. She just looked at me like she was assessing my statement. I knew I’d taken too long with a response.
Finally she smiled and gave a small laugh accompanied by a little hand wave of dismissal, adding “Aren’t you the kidder.”
Fuck.
Just then I heard movement at the door. I turned my head just enough to see who was entering. I was relieved to find it wasn’t Rashad. Instead it was an older looking man with salt-and-pepper hair. I didn’t recognize him so I decreased my guard one point of paranoia.
“Good first shift, Mr. Jacobin. Your usual?” the hostess said, like I’d suddenly disappeared.
“Indeed, Margerie. May I be mistaken, but is that a new hair fixation?”
“I knew you’d notice.” Pink appeared on her cheeks. “S7 is ready when you are.”
“Ecstatic,” he said.
The man moved around me like I was some common everyday obstruction, approached what’s-her-name and planted a too friendly kiss on the side of her face.
The pink of her cheeks darkened to a rosy red. She turned her head trying to hide it from Mr. Friendly, and seeing me, remembered I existed.
“If you’d care to follow Mr. Jacobin he’ll show you to your seat.”
Her acknowledgement of me apparently granted Mr. Oblivious the powers of observation to notice my presence, because the man turned to me then, hand outstretched, and said, “Good first shift, sir.”
I didn’t return the civil gesture. Instead, I paid Mr. Jackass in kind for his previous behavior by ignoring he existed.
Hungry, desperately in need of some coffee, but not wanting to sit with the dregs of society, I was really starting to get pissed with how my day was turning out.
“If
you’ll
show me to my
booth
, I’d like to order already,” I said, looking into Margerie’s eyes with all seriousness. I was done playing nice.
The crimson of her cheeks appeared to march its way to her pupils. I imagined she would have incinerated me with her eyes if she could.
“It wasn’t all that funny the first time you said it, and now you insult Mr. Jacobin. I hereby refuse your patronage.” She waved her hand at me like she was shooing away a measly dog. “You have one minute to evacuate the premises before I call the authorities.”
It seemed everyone wanted to call the cops on me. What the fuck?
I reached into compartment 6 and revealed my authority to her - a Chrono Inquisitor badge. “No need, I’m already here. Now show me to my booth.”
Mr. Jacobin stepped between me and Margerie, and piped in with, “What’s going on here?”
Margerie answered. “He’s demanding to be seated at a booth when he’s alone.”
Mr. Jacobin hmm’d and nodded. “You’re an Inquisitor, huh? Hmm. Well, that still doesn’t permit you to sit at a booth when you’re all alone and there is an open seat at the counter.”
“Who might you be?” I asked with a hint of amusement.
“Conrad Jacobin,” he said, and then added, “Esquire.”
Great, a lawyer. Question was, what kind of legal upgrades did his CerA have? Was he a partner, or a measly associate? What’s his specialty?
“So you’re a lawyer,” I said. With a quick glance around the place
, I noticed there was only one available booth but several solitary seats were available. If it had been the opposite I might have been able to finagle something. Biding my time I asked, “I’m new to this area. Explain to me why I can’t sit at a booth?”
Mr. Jacobin proceeded to spout off city regulations protecting business interests, reasonable profits, overpopulation, turnaround, ad nauseum.
While he was busy lawyering me, I was working on doing the same.
‹
“Kali, what do you got for me?”›
‹You do not have a valid justification to sit at a booth.›
‹“Who’s fucking side are you on? You have the upgrades of a Philosopher King. Lawyer up and find me an excuse.”›
A second later she said
,
‹You could randomly audit an individual and claim that sitting in a booth is necessary in order to conduct the investigation.›
‹
“Perfect.”›
Mr. Jacobin was still going on and on. “-you have two options: do as Margerie says by following me to your assigned seat, or take your patronage somewhere else.” The man then moved slightly closer to me in what could be interpreted as an intimidating manner.
I still had my badge in hand. I contemplated shoving it down his throat but decided against it.
“Please,” I said. “I eat people like you for breakfast. Are you by chance on the menu? I’m famished.”
Mr. Jacobin stepped closer, still playing the big shot. “Leave.”
I gave him a contemptuous smile and stepped so we were nearly touching noses. “No,” I said.
“Then by the authority granted to me by this city, I hereby place you under citizen’s arrest.” Mr. Jacobin tried to grab my wrist.
I grabbed his instead.
It was on.
I brought my badge up to the asshole’s face. “Maybe you need your eyesight altered. Here. In case you still can’t see what it says, I’ll read it for you.
‘Department of Examination and Inquiry
- Tribunal Yeomen -
U.R.N.A./ChronoGen Inc.
In. Yan #5-9-7’
“What that means is: I’m a fucking god to you. By the authority granted to me by the Commonwealth of Colorado and ChronoGen Inc. I am conducting an audit on an individual within this establishment. Now, get out of my face, keep your damn mouth shut, and let me do my job.”
I released Mr. Jacobin and waited just in case he was stupid and had a death wish. He didn’t. He rubbed his wrist, gave me a look of ill will, nodded to Margerie, turned, and then silently left.
With one person in their place, I turned back to Margerie.
“My booth.”
Fear had found its way into her eyes and she quivered slightly. Instead of speaking she simply raised her arm and pointed a trembling finger to the empty booth at the end.