Year 2077, March 18th // Joez Cafe, Quadrant VI
"Hey, head." A guy in his 40s beckons you in. You went and sat across the table facing him. "How has it been?!" he laughs.
"Good," you replied.
"One Bloody Mary for this guy here," he signals the bartender for an order and turns to you.
"How many years has it been? 7 years?" he snorted.
"9."
"Have you heard the news? Another killing spree in Quadrant IV."
You take a moment to absorb the information, the weight of his words settling heavily between you. The bartender brings the drink, and you take a sip, savoring the familiar tang of the Bloody Mary, a rare comfort in these unsettling times.
"Nine years... It's hard to believe," you say, your voice trailing off as memories of the past flood back. The years have been long and hard, filled with struggles and losses, but also moments of quiet resilience and unexpected camaraderie.
The man across from you, an old friend from a bygone era, looks older now, wearier. The lines on his face tell stories of survival and endurance in a world that has grown increasingly chaotic. The mention of the killing spree in Quadrant IV stirs a mix of dread and determination within you.
"What's really concerning is the fact that there are still no clues, but—"
"Hackers," you cut him off.
"C'mon, head. Hacking has been irrelevant for the last 50 or so years. Even my grandma no longer uses a computer; everything you need is inside the Akashic," he rebutted.
"All the victims have one thing in common: they all died while inside the Akashic. The only way to do that was by a virus directly injected into them while inside that digital coffin," a sense of infuriation boils through you.
"Okay, okay," he puts his hands up. "Seeing as how much you know about this, I'm guessing it's not a simple case of some genius psychopath having fun, right?" You nodded. "Corporate or government?" he asked, serious.
"Is this some type of interrogation now?" you asked, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. He laughs, forced.
"You know I'm still working, right? I won't be retiring for another decade or two. Speaking of retirement, why did you retire so early? You were the best."
"Was. I lost motivation is all. I guess this detective business wasn’t meant for me, or I just wanted to rest," you reply, a touch of weariness in your voice. Before he can respond, his phone rings.
"So, it was nice. Let’s meet again someday. I gotta go back; duty calls," he says, standing up.
Before he goes, you say, "It’s corporate." He turns to you, eyebrows raised. "Med-Jed is the name of their group. That's all I know."
"Thanks," he says, nodding.
"Good luck," you reply, watching him leave.
As he walks away, you finish your drink, the weight of the conversation settling in. The world outside continues its chaotic dance, but for a moment, the path ahead seems a bit clearer.103Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGB1LngcVm9
