A Case in the Empire of New Texas
by Gern Blanston
e's a winner. He's always on the right side. He knows the world is actually a simple place. His streams agree
with him about what's real and what isn't. Sure, there's other streams, but they're for losers, terrorists, and
fake citizens. He gets the real shit straight from the source. He's not sure those other people even know
they're being tricked. (Are they people? Like, for real? Like me?) He doesn't think about it too much though.
What's the point? It's not like they're worth thinking about, and you can't reason with them, so why bother? He's
no fool. Besides, he's got his work. He's got his freedom. His feed confirms it.
H
He spins the steering wheel of his armor-plated pickup truck, turning into the parking lot of a 7-11. Some losers
loitering by the doorway skedaddle when they see him pull up. He curses them under his breath as he puts the
truck in park and activates its security system. He dabs at his contact lenses, then blinks. They're sitting better now,
so he checks his feeds to make sure they look right. Satisfied, he wipes some sweat from his brow.
Even with the AC blasting at max, he can feel the heat outside in the Empire of New Texas. He adjusts the stiff
bulletproof vest wrapped around his torso and switches the safeties off on his guns. He just needs to fuel himself: he
doesn't need any bullshit.
There's only a securesec drone inside the store and a bank of TVs hanging from the middle of the ceiling. He sees
the green light pop on the front of the drone, thanks to his hunter's badge. He stopped taking the badge off three
years ago. (Why take chances?)
The TVs are all tuned to different channels. One of them has his latest job on it: public case 01753681. The
individual in question is a high-end clone escaped from captivity. The reward for returning it started out steep,
north of $10M, but it's gone up three times since the case was turned over to the public. (Of course, the catch is
you got to bring the thing in alive. If you accidentally kill it, then your ass will be the next public case.)
Risky? Yes. Profitable? Also yes. He figures the clone is probably somebody important's medical backup. He's heard
about one or two of those getting out before, but they were somewhere else, like China or Africa; someplace where
they don't speak American. American's the only language people are allowed to speak, here, in the Empire. He likes
that.
He grabs a couple bottles of Cherry Coke Protein, a sandwich, and a bag of chips. He puts his lunch on the counter,
and thumbs through the menus at the checkout terminal. The 7-11 automated pharmacy has all the usual stuff. He
doesn't need anything fancy, just some stim patches and a neurobooster. The counter dispenser spits out each of the
drugs in slim single packs after he selects them. They'll come in handy for bringing the thing in alive, but he's really
getting them in case he runs into competition on the job. He's thinking he probably will; he's actually hoping for it.
After paying up, he's ready to hit the road again. Through the shop's door, he sees one of the losers from earlier
creeping up on his truck. (This'll be good) He grins. He switches on his lens's recording function. Sure enough,
about a second later a scraggly, homeless-looking guy puts his hand on the truck's door handle. The loser screams
and his hair stands straight up as the truck's security system electrocutes him with a few thousand volts.