Project Looking Glass

Author's Note:

The Atomic Horrors and Great Quakes of the late Twentieth Century combined with the Great Pollution Waves of the Early Twenty First produced a tired and dirty world badly in need of a new work-force. Thus were born the genetic up-lifts of the early Twenty-First Century, as species after species was uplifted into sentience to stand alongside Man in his quest for dominance and greed over an already ravaged world. It is in this setting that the following tale takes place...

***

It was one of those days that you read about; fog so thick you could cut it with a knife. I was practicing my hook-shot with the waist-can and in walked this doll. She sauntered in with that sophisticated air that's usually reserved for royalty. She was five-and-a-half feet of the best-

Slam!

I should probably give up these cheap detective novels but it can get so boring being a class two InterSpec inspector when there's nothing to investigate. Not when nobody cares about the Interspecies Council in the first place (for history buffs who have been under a rock for the past few decades, InterSpec replaced Interpol when the Council formed and it gained all the popularity of the old U.N.- and we all know what happened to that bunch).

Intercom buzz.

"Yes, Miss Calico?"

"A Mister Smith here to see you."

"You're kidding?!"

There's actually someone with a cliche name like that?

"He's waiting sir."

Sigh, "Send him in."

I chucked the book in the trashcan.

My secretary opened the door to let him in. She's a cat after her name- with the fur in all the right places (hey, I'm not prejudice; as long as it's a good looking female, with the right kind of hole between the- ).

"Mr. Smith, sir."

I daydream too much.

In walks this balding accountant-type in a beat-up pair of brown flared pants (didn't those go out of style last century) and a dirty-white shirt with a rather bleak-looking polka-dot tie done up more as a noose than anything else.

The noose-wearer furtively came in and sat down, looking around nervously. I began thinking that maybe I shouldn't have thrown the book away.

"Inspector Flatfoot?"

"That's Flaatphut."

With a name like mine, I was born for this occupation.

"Yes. Well, I... I may have something that needs investigation."

"That's what we're here for."

Yawn.

"Well, " hard swallow, "there's some odd happenings where I work."

Isn't there always?

"Such as?"

He paused, wiped his brow, and said, "I think that my co-worker has been murdered."

"Homicide's down the hall."

"He's been missing for three days..., " he went on quickly.

"We don't handle missing persons."

I began to get up to retrieve my book.

"He was investigating some misappropriations of grants and odd personnel reshuffling."

I sat back down; might as well hear this out (it's not like I'm busy or anything).

"What company do you work for?"

"I'm Senior Accountant for Multinational Unified Technologies."

That got my attention.

"Is this the same M.U.T. that grosses 80 billion or so a year- that MUT?"

"That's the admitted amount, but- yes."

"And you're the Senior accountant?"

"Yes."

My day just took an upward turn.

I sat back in my chair, "Go on."

He swallowed and began his soliloquy.

"Well, my name is Dave Kaver. My partner began finding discrepancies in some computer balance sheets, so he began to investigate. In the next few weeks I saw less and less of him until, finally, he came in looking scared. He said that he'd found out something big and had to leave. That was the last that I ever saw of him."

First obvious question, "And what convinces you of his death?"

He took something out of a shirt pocket and put it on my desk.

"I found this in my mail drop. It's his. I think it was meant as a threat."

It was a pacemaker; the implanted kind. I could tell that it had been used. There's only one way that you remove these things, and I don't think that anesthetics were used. Some threat.

I leaned forward, "Did he leave any notes or files?"

He looked around, got up, went halfway to the door, and said, "He found that all the discrepancies occurred in connection with Project Looking Glass."

He went to the door, opened it, and turned around again, "He also referred to an Operation Sunburn, " and then he practically ran out the door.

I knew better than to chase him; he'd probably just have a coronary anyhow, and I knew where to find him. So, I calmly sat back, opened up my top right hand drawer, pressed the release button, and watched as my computer, ICy, popped up from the center of my desk, the surface flipping up into a holo-screen and the senso-pad keyboard coming up from the center. ICy wasn't exactly government issue; I smuggle him with me to every new office. He's made of pieces of this and that, government left-overs, and such, and only about a couple terabytes of memory, but he's mine and I like him.

Did I mention my hardware hobby? Not just software, like everyone else and their grandmother, but actual hardware! You just can't-

Sorry; I talk too much sometimes when I get on this subject.

"You get all that ICy?"

His head materialized in front of the holo-screen. He had on a blue mohawk today.

"I think he's a paranoid Loon but I don't suppose that gets us anywhere."

"No, especially if the Federated Bird People hears what you said about Loons."

"Well, I do have some info if you're interested."

"Shoot."

Bang! sounded from the screen.

You get used to those kind of responses from Icy. Sort of.

"His partner is on record as being transferred out three days ago. Now ask me where."

"Okay, I'll bite."

"Nome Alaska, as a Janitorial Engineer."

"How much you want to bet that he's being swept up instead of doing the sweeping. Well, what about our friend with the poor taste in clothing."

"He's legit. But he's down for a transfer to Alaska tomorrow."

"Whoops! I better get to him." I grabbed for my coat. "See what you can get me on MUT and any connections with Project Looking Glass. I'll be back after lunch."

"Whoo-kay."

"And dump the mohawk."

The head on the screen gave me the raspberries as I left the room.

Project Looking Glass. After certain terrorist parts of the Middle East got turned into one vast glassy plain by certain super-powers (both sides were getting tired of them all), someone got an idea. A few measurements later it was determined that with some large scale polishing here and there that the focal point of Iran, et al, would be someplace up in orbit. So, a bit of work and a few satellites later, and the sunlight coming off of the plain is focused onto a large geo-stable set of orbiting reflectors that aim the light at some special set of thermionic solar panels or some such. During the night, stored energy is beamed back down and- Viola, that's how major parts of Africa and Europe get a sizable portion of their energy.

***

"I'm sorry, but we don't have a Mister Dave Kaver here at this office. He was transferred away about six months ago. Our records are quite clear on this matter."

The secretary was a rather stiff-lipped six-foot stork, with this way of looking down her beak at you that made you seem about the size of a muskrat. I was in the front office of the MUT building in the New York Metroplex area. It's on the top level of the 'Plex, exposed to the sunlight and everything (well, what there is of it). The front office was big and plush and a bit gaudy, done up with pictures of some of its various holdings and projects, mirrors, and other such. The place also had security cameras everywhere you looked, monitoring everything. I had come from my office to snoop, using my InterSpec ID to get in, and warn Mr. Kaver, but was a bit too late apparently.

"Mmm. Well, do you think I could see his old office. I lent something to him, you see, and need to see if he left it there."

"I'm sorry, but his office has been thoroughly cleaned out. Good day sir."

"Well, thank-you anyway, " I said as I casually slipped a tap-pad on the side of the desk.

I left through the large front double doors, doormen and guards on either side of it watching me, got into my car, set the elevation at 500 feet, and put it on hover. I then popped open the remote for ICy.

"Well pal, what're you getting on the tap?"

The voice came over the remote, "Well, they've reported you to internal security, are running a check on you, and there's radar impulses bouncing off of your car right now on a private use frequency."

"I suppose that I ought to move it then."

"Serves you right. You ought to see my new crew-cut."

"You got the address for Kaver?"

"Yup."

"Okay. Feed it into my autopilot and see about getting into the MUT cyberspace about Operation Sunburn."

"You're kidding! Their system could spit me out like a cuizinart."

"Whine, whine."

"Okay, okay. I hear and obey sa-heeb."

With that, I set the autopilot and got on my way. I also turned on my traffic radar screen and activated the anti-radar field.

About five minutes into my trip, I noticed a blip about five minutes behind me that had been there since I'd left.

"We appear to have grown a tail, " I muttered half to myself.

I began messing around with some dashboard controls. As I moved, the blip moved. So, I thought it was about time to get rough.

I flew Tango Two (my car) down low, looking for the right kind of access tunnel with Tango's scanners. I needed a specific type for what I had in mind. Concrete everywhere. Where are all those super-steel tunnels when you need them?

The blip began to close.

"They know I'm onto them. Okay."

I moved a bit faster in response; the blip closed to three miles; it must have something good under its hood.

I had to find a way to out-drive them, so I overlaid a local map display onto my screen. There has to be something here. Factories, hotels, shopping malls; ah, here's something. An amusement park. Hmm, maybe.

"ICy. What's with this amusement park about two miles away?"

"Closed for the week."

I floored it.

The blip was a mile away.

I dove the car into the park, the blip close behind me.

The blip became a black Jupiter-90 model-K, commonly know as a Cloud-Jumper. It could do about 50 MPH more than my little Tango. Can't outrun it, so might try some little trick flying, and this amusement park seemed like the best place to do it in. I soared through the park's Loop-The-Loop; it followed. I flew under the Power-Diver; it copied. For every move that I did, it copied.

"Well, now that I know I can depend on you guys..."

I thumbed a few controls in preparation and then headed for the Shoot; a nice roller-coaster type affair with a long downward shoot of nice shiny steel.

A laser shot glanced off a rear light. "Ouch. They're playing rough. Well, don't worry, " I patted the dashboard, "ICy, Program 1. Frequency scan, verification, and load into channel A."

"Aye, aye, Cap-E-TANE."

The Jumper was within a few hundred feet of me.

I shot up the shoot; the Jumper followed immediately.

"Yes, lets play follow-the-leader boys. ICy!"

"Got it loaded boss."

"Right."

I adjusted the antennae control to aim the antennae towards the rear, set it to broadcast, and opened up channel A.

Instantly, a stream of high-intensity radio garbage was sent along in back of me on what I hoped was the frequency of their on-board nav-computer; the radio waves were bounced around further by the steel walls of the shoot. Ain't that nice!

The Jumper began to weave and bounce around the Shoot, picking up more than a few dents. Then I made it out the top and floored it. The Jumper almost made it out. It hit the top edge of the shoot and deflected down to hit the ground, cracked in two, and caught on fire.

I sped away.

It works every time, but drains the hell out of Tango's battery.

"Well, it appears, ICy, that we may be onto something."

I slowed down to a more normal speed and continued on over to Kaver's.

***

I limped Tango onto the second-story landing pad of the apartment complex. It was a mid-level apartment, nothing too fancy, but not a downsider place either. Since I might need to search for hidden compartments, I pocketed my cavity-resonator just in case, put Tango on security-lock, and then went to look up Kaver's apartment.

Apartment 2403C was answered by a 5'5" orange-furred manx.

"Yes?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Kaver."

"I'm afraid my husband isn't home just now."

"Husband?!"

My startled expression was plain for all to see for the few seconds that I lost it. You don't hear about too many mixed marriages; at least not with human and fur. A bit kinky I must admit.

"It's not too well known, " she smiled.

I was deathly afraid to ask about any kids.

"How may I help you?"

I brought out my ID, "I'm with InterSpec."

You get used to that disappointed look- kind of.

"Come in."

I went in, closing the door behind me. She led me into the living room, poured two drinks from a small wet-bar, handed one to me, sipped hers, and then invited me to sit down.

"Well, " she sat down, "what can I do for you? My husband should be home within the hour."

I didn't want to tell her otherwise.

She sat cross-legged, wearing a two-piece dress that was more of a belt-and-handkerchief than dress and blouse. She also looked quite young, no more than about 26. Kaver had to be about 40. Watching her sit like that I could tell what he saw in her, but what did she see in him? Oh, well. No accounting for taste- except on Kaver's part.

She looked at me as if studying some choice piece of meat. Her curves began to move in all the right directions, as she sat down a bit closer to me. She had the hots for me? And with a husband? You can put the people in the cat but you can't take the cat out of the people. Or something like that.

The drink had a hint of catnip in it.

"Well, " good drink, "I just need to check out his room for something. I won't take long."

"I suppose so. Isn't there anything else?" she smiled suggestively.

I managed to squirm my way over to his work room with a suggested promise. She sure didn't seem like the faithful wife type.

His room was about as well kept as the person seemed. Papers and print-outs everywhere, strewn socks, and a terminal.

Did I say a terminal?

I checked. Its files had been cleared and his memory storage disks had a large magnet next to them. So much for that.

I took out my cavity-resonator. Might as well give it a try.

Now let me tell you about this little gizmo. It sends out radar waves of a kind that, when they hit a cavity, begin resonating and sending back some sort of standing wave that my resonator then picks up. By triangulation I find the cavity. Great for finding hidden compartments not much bigger than a bread-box. Just about useless, though, for a room of many doors type situation.

I made it myself.

I spent about five minutes scanning the room, finding all manner of drawers, closets, and what-not. It takes time to find and cancel out the stuff that I know is there.

Ah! What's this? A reading off of the back of the inside of a desk drawer. I felt around in there and finally found a catch.

The compartment produced some papers; general info concerning the Pan African League, the half of Africa with all the money. Just public-realm stuff; nothing big. But, why hide it? I pocketed the papers and my resonator and left the room.

She was there waiting for me as soon as I'd come out of Kaver's room. She smiled at me and came up beside me as I tried to edge my way across the living room.

"You know, Inssspector, you needn't leave just yet, " she purred. "With my husband gone, we can take our time."

She began to blow in my ear and put an arm around my waist.

Some faithful wife! Maybe she married Kaver for his money?

"I have some other official business I need to attend to just now." I removed her paws from their exploratory around my waist. "I really must go."

I draw the line at married gals. So, I quickly headed across the room and out the door, her following close behind me. I left her with a pout on her face and just barely managed to get Tango going; low battery and all.

Whew! I escaped! I settled down to drive in peace.

It was five minutes into my trip before it hit me.

Her words "with my husband gone" rang around in my ears. I hadn't told her- but she knew; and she was a bit playful for someone's wife.

I broke three traffic laws on my way back to Kaver's.

I pounded on the door.

No answer.

The door lock was a four digit combo. No time for that, I did the most intelligent and expedient thing available. I kicked at the door.

And almost broke my foot; darn steel security doors. I went back to the car and brought back my lock-decoder and affixed it to the keypad. Delays!

Five minutes later I was in. Empty of course! No wife, no nothing!

Except for the two stiffs both laid out on the couch directly facing the front door. Kaver and another three-day-old corpse; his partner, one might assume.

I smelled a rat, or rather a manx. So, I decided to break the four-minute mile back to Tango, wiping my fingerprints off behind me.

This time Tango wouldn't start at all. I knew I'd drained the battery too much.

"Shit!"

Sirens sounded in the distance.

I knew I'd have to hoof it, so I got out my wallet.

It's here someplace.

She did have her hands all over me.

The sirens got louder as it came my way.

My ID was in my wallet.

Two bodies, battery dead, no ID or wallet, and sirens coming my way, no doubt from an anonymous tip-off.

It was going to be a long day before I got back to the office.

And the chief wasn't going to like this.

***

"What do you do to get into this much trouble!" the old badger yelled. "And bringing the department in on it, as if we don't have enough disrespect already!"

The boss was definitely not taking this well.

Papers went flying as he whipped a paw across the desk. "Lost ID, a mix up with the Metros, not to mention a fight."

My nose still hurts.

"And two bodies, " he finished with an exasperated sigh.

He heaved his 300 pounds of badger bulk around, frustrating the temerity of the balance servos in his chair.

I'd spent four hours trying to convince the Metros that I wasn't a murderer, or Loon (apologies again to the Bird Federation), or both. After that I'd spent 48 hours in a Metro-pit with a bunch of dregs, sluts, and thugs; the food was less than edible, and if I'd slept I probably wouldn't have woken up. All in all a definite low for my biorhythm.

"I was set up when I went to investigate this case."

"What case!? There's nothing here that need concern InterSpec! Now, go back to your office and drop this whole thing! And don't come back until you actually have a case on something!"

He slammed the door after me.

Naturally I wasn't about to drop it; my honor was at stake.

I took the papers that I got from Kaver's and went back down to my office. Secretarial eyes followed me out. I ignored them.

I came to my office. Calico was at her desk trying on some new perfume; pheromone scented, I think.

"You okay, Henry?" she batted an innocent concerned look at me.