I was in sleep mode, drifting through my own mind. Sitting in the all-too-familiar chair where I used to spend my evenings, I lit a cigarette and tried to relax while watching a simple movie. The film on the screen played in fragments faces and objects distorted. Just memories, after all. Human minds never preserve events with perfect clarity. Unlike a robot's memory blocks, I recalled the battle and even the trash lying by the roadside with near-perfect detail.
The cigarette I lit was just a simulation, but the taste felt real too real. I'd smoked them so often that my mind had perfectly recorded the sensation. Just like everything else around me. What I remembered well played back flawlessly. What I didn't was warped. I stared at the coffeemaker, but saw only emptiness inside I didn't know how it worked. Its outer appearance, however, was spot on.
I replayed the final moments of my life several times. I was walking down a street, heavy rain obscuring my vision. A man with an umbrella approached, then darkness. I couldn't make out his face. Maybe he wasn't even the one responsible there wasn't enough information. But after revisiting the memory a few times, I heard additional footsteps behind the rain. They were distant, but definitely behind me. So, they attacked from the front and the back?
Rewinding further, I spotted a man pressed up against a wall, wearing a hooded jacket. A tattoo on his neck looked familiar he was clearly part of a gang. I'll open the archives and search the case files. Maybe I'll find a match for that tattoo.
Once I finished reviewing my memories, I switched to the second memory bank. Watching fragments of my life, I remembered exactly when and where everything happened. The last moments of my life... Wait. What was that on the screen? I've seen this before.
Of course. That hall. I'd seen the exact same footage playing on the screen. What the hell is going on? A chill ran through me as I searched more closely. As I reviewed these memories, I started noticing more similarities. Cyberpunk 2077. That was the name of the game. Was I stuck inside a damn game?
No that's insane. Matthew lived in this world in 2030, and tech was advancing by leaps and bounds. So maybe it is possible in reality. But who am I, then? Maybe I'm Detective Matthew, who died in 2030... or maybe I'm Maxim, who died in 2020. All I can do is try to piece it together. What if Matthew really died, but they saved his brain and tried to bring him back? And if his soul had long since departed, a new one had to take its place that's where I came in. The machine's memories erased the old life. I don't believe in the afterlife or reincarnation, but I have no other explanation.
Suddenly, an alarm rang in the corner of the room just as annoying as I remembered. It was 7:00 AM. The sound was exactly as I recalled it. I walked over and turned it off. I still had time to figure this out.
System active.
The moment I thought it, I woke up. Opening the interface, I checked my body's condition.
Status:
Energy - 54%
System Load - 2%
STRENGTH - 5
TECH - 3
INTELLIGENCE - ????
I still couldn't get used to the fact that this body was nothing more than a set of stats. Looking down at my mechanical hands, I finally got up. My shift starts at eight and runs for twelve hours. Standard protocol. A full shift lasts twenty-four hours, where you're expected to be alert every second. That's the usual schedule for patrol units. Since I'm attached to them, I guess that's my schedule too.
I headed downstairs. As I reached the fifth floor landing, I nearly ran into the woman from yesterday the one who'd been attacked. Looked like she was heading to work too. Most government organizations operate on the same schedule, so it wasn't surprising we crossed paths.
"Good morning, Katherine Wright," I said. So she had decided to keep living after all.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, clearly surprised to see me.
"My apartment's a few floors up," I replied.
"Huh, so you live here," she said.
"I do," I confirmed.
"Good to know." She stepped around me and continued downstairs. I didn't linger and followed her.
"Why are you following me?" she snapped, glancing back.
"I'm heading to work too," I explained. She narrowed her eyes slightly, like she was trying to read me but what could she possibly see behind my visor and mechanical face?
She turned back around and kept walking.
"What's your name, savior?" she asked without looking back.
"Matthew," I replied.
"Thanks again for helping me with the gang... and for stopping me from doing something irreversible."
"Happy to serve. I am a cop, after all," I said. She just smiled and shook her head. I had a feeling most citizens didn't trust the law much anymore. Not that I blamed them. "If they ever come back, you can contact me directly," I added, sending her my info through the network.
"I'll handle it myself next time," she said. We parted ways at the exit she went in one direction, and I headed toward my new job.
Didn't take long to get there. Soon I stood in front of the police precinct doors. Just as I was about to walk in, the doors slid open.
"Hey, rookie!" a voice called from behind me. I turned to see a police cruiser with the window rolled down.
Name: Damian Todd
Age: 38
Occupation: Heywood District Police
Rank: Police Officer (Sergeant)
Criminal Record: None
Marital Status: Married, three children
Note: Do not engage.
Looks like this was the sergeant who'd be training me. I approached the car, and the door swung open.
"Hop in, I've already signed all the necessary paperwork," he said. I climbed inside and finally got a good look at his face. A short haircut, a soft smile, and a lively sparkle in his eyes. He didn't look like a seasoned cop he looked like a genuinely happy man.
[image]
"My name's Damian Todd. For the next month, you'll be reporting to me."
"Matthew Carrington," I replied, offering him a handshake. He didn't hesitate to take it.
"Good to meet you. Welcome to the department," Damian said as the engine started and the car pulled away.
"Thanks," I replied, slightly thrown off by how... normal he seemed.
"The job's not too tough. We patrol Heywood, respond to calls when needed," Damian explained.
"Got it," I said.
"Don't worry. Nothing major usually happens. Sure, sometimes we have to shoot, but most of it's small-time punks. We're not supposed to go to war with the gangs that's what the assault units are for."
"I'm not afraid of firefights," I replied. With this body, taking a few bullets was just a mechanical inconvenience. And death didn't scare me I'd been to the other side. There was nothing there but void.
"I see. So you're no rookie, huh? Where'd you serve?" he asked.
"Nowhere," I said, not really understanding the question.
"Huh. Strange. You act like you've seen things. Lost your body, stand like a soldier. I figured you were ex-military," he said.
"No. I worked in the police," I replied.
"Really? Got demoted and rehired, huh? It happens," he said casually.
"No, I just haven't been on duty in a long time," I clarified.
"Strange. But who knows what's going on in the higher-ups' heads. They make up all kinds of crap. Don't worry I can tell you're one of us. Doesn't matter to me who you were or that your body's metal now," he said with a grin. I couldn't understand where all that optimism came from. Did he even realize where he lived?
"Oh, and hey check this out. My daughter just started walking. She's only a year old," he said, showing me a photo of a child standing on her own two feet.
"Congratulations," I replied, slightly hesitating.
"Thanks. I've also got an older son and daughter. Man, I'm so proud of them. I come home every night and hug them tight. They push me away, of course, but I know they're always happy to see me. If it weren't for them, I'd have lost all sense of joy in this life," he said. And now it all made sense he had people he truly cared about. That's what made him happy.
"Do you have a family?" he asked.
"I did." Even through the robotic tone of my voice, the bitterness was unmistakable.
"I'm sorry... I didn't know," he said sincerely, realizing he'd touched a sore spot.
The rest of the drive passed in silence.