Incoming call: Henry Baker.
Of all people, I didn't expect to hear from him.A quick glance at the date made me realize it's already been a week since they brought me back.Time feels... different now.
"Detective Matthew speaking," I answered. The words came automatically a phrase so deeply ingrained over my years of service that it had become part of me.
"Hello, Matthew. Have they already restored you?" Henry's voice came through. "I'm calling to remind you have an appointment tomorrow. I wanted to file for you to get a day off, but it seems like you're already on some unplanned leave? The gangs are spiraling out of control out there. If we had more like you, things might look better."
More like me? I latched onto that word more. Were they planning mass production?
"No, just force of habit. Yeah, I remember I'll be there," I replied, though in truth, I had completely forgotten about the appointment.
"Alright, I'll see you at ten. We'll check if everything's running smoothly and upgrade some implants. I managed to secure the budget and got a few new pieces in. See you tomorrow."
"Goodbye," I said. The call disconnected.
An upgrade?I wondered what exactly he had in mind. I'd lived during the height of cybernetic advancement when humanity became obsessed with enhancing their bodies beyond what nature had given them. Personally, I always felt neutral about it. I would've never volunteered for such modifications, but watching the evolution from the sidelines had been fascinating.
"Matthew?" a woman's voice called.
I turned my head and saw Catherine. I had just stepped outside the hospital to answer the call. No surprise running into her here.
"Yes, it's me. Good to see you," I said.
"What are you doing here? Don't tell me you came to see me?" she asked, eyeing me with careful precision, scanning every detail as if her gaze were a diagnostic tool. "Do you need help?"
Only then did I remember my own damage. I'd forgotten entirely there was only a vague discomfort lurking on the edge of my consciousness, as if something was wrong, but not worth paying attention to. I'd been too deep in thought.But now that she mentioned it, I started to feel a faint ache… and something else I couldn't quite name.
"No, I'm heading to the ripperdoc. Just need to patch myself up. I was escorting someone and… things got rough," I said.
"That's unfortunate. A lot of people got hurt today these gangs are becoming a real plague on the city," she sighed.
"And you? Just out for some fresh air?" I asked, trying to change the subject.
"Yeah… There was too much blood today. I needed to clear my head, take a breather," she replied, then looked at me thoughtfully. "I can help with the repairs. I'm not half-bad with tech, and I'm currently upgrading my certification."
I didn't have much money left. Definitely not enough to waste on high-end fixes. I'd have to reach out to Sarah again for financial help, but for now, even basic patching would help reduce energy loss and clear up the constant error prompts blinking in my interface.
"I'd appreciate the help," I said, accepting her offer.
"Let's go inside. I'll take a look," Catherine said.
The last time I'd seen her, she looked broken, lifeless like someone caught in an endless loop of despair. But now, there was something in her voice again. Energy. And in her eyes a spark of hope. People say facing death can change you. I don't believe that. I've looked death in the eye too many times and learned only one thing it changes your perspective. It lays all the cards on the table, so to speak.
Catherine led me into a small lab filled with equipment and motioned for me to sit.
"You know, Matt… when you talked about your kids, it hit me. I realized I have to keep living for them. Yeah, I'm in deep, and someone could kill me over it. But my children didn't ask for any of this. I chose to bring them into this world, and now it's my responsibility to protect them," she said, surprising me with her openness as she started working on my implants.
"You've got a very grounded perspective," I said.I wasn't referring to age or life experience, but her clarity her ability to see the truth without illusion. Most people lie to themselves just to get by. She didn't.
"I came to it too late…" she sighed. "Did you have kids, Matthew?"
"I did. I had two…" I started but suddenly froze.Why couldn't I remember who they were? Their faces and names… hidden behind fog.
"Did I hit a sore spot? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Catherine said quickly, assuming my silence was emotional pain.
But it wasn't that. I just couldn't remember.
Come on, Matthew. Remember. You held them in your arms. You celebrated their first steps.Did all of that just disappear?
Cognitive failure risk: 67%.
"My daughter… my treasure, Eliza. And my son named after my father Derek. I loved them more than anything in this world. When they were born, I swore I'd protect them… that I'd never leave them," I said.Each word felt like it was being torn out of me.
Cognitive failure risk: 89%.
Critical level. Entering sleep mode.
Memory block error: V6.12
Decrypting data...
Memory playback: Matthew Crignton, June 12, 2021
God, I'm exhausted. My body still aches from yesterday's fight. That bastard nearly broke my ribs.Had to take him on hand-to-hand turns out he wasn't just some junkie. He moved fast, and I paid the price. But why does my body ache this badly? Feels like I passed out on the couch… and something keeps tickling my face.
"Derek, Eliza, stop bothering your father he's tired," came the voice of my wife, Rachel.
"Hee-hee," Eliza giggled. I'd always loved her bright, cheerful laugh.
Stretching drowsily, I opened my eyes. We were in the living room. I must've dozed off in the chair. My kids were standing in front of me, whispering to each other and glancing my way. Sleep still clung to me like fog, but I forced my eyes open and spotted markers in their small hands. The moment they realized I was awake, Eliza and Derek quickly hid their "weapons" behind their backs. Derek bolted immediately, but Eliza stayed.
Getting up, I stretched my stiff body, and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the TV screen my face was covered in colorful drawings.
"Eliza," I said in my most serious voice, "would you care to explain the motivation behind your actions?"
"You looked really sad yesterday… and your face was all bruised. I wanted to make you happy," she said, stumbling over her words, visibly nervous.
I looked at my painted reflection again and this time, I smiled at her, genuinely.
"Daddy will try to smile more often," I said. There was no point scolding her. She hadn't done it to be naughty she just wanted to cheer me up, in the only way she knew how. "Go to your mom. I'll wash this off."
I ran a bath and started scrubbing off the clownish makeup. I had to admit they'd done a pretty solid job for a couple of kids. Almost professional.
Memory block playback complete.
"Matthew… Matthew, are you alright?" Catherine's voice reached me like it was coming through water.
"Matthew?" she repeated.
I snapped back to the present, shaken by the force of the memory.
System load: 54%
"Yes, I hear you. Just… got lost in an old memory," I said, grounding myself.
"Don't scare me like that. I was about to call emergency services," Catherine said with relief.
"I'm sorry. It was a heavy memory. I've made a lot of mistakes in my past… things I can never undo. And they haunt me," I admitted.
"We're all human. We all make mistakes," Catherine replied softly, placing a hand on my shoulder."I made one too. I didn't see it soon enough my husband getting involved with the wrong people. At first, everything seemed fine… but then he started taking out his anger on me and the kids. It was only a matter of time before he would've killed me with his own hands. But he was killed in the street before that happened. They found his body in an alley. I felt… relief. But life didn't get any easier. One problem was replaced by another trying to earn enough eddies to survive," she said quietly.
"You're a strong woman," I said sincerely.
"Thank you. But I don't feel strong. I'm done," she said.
The critical errors were gone. All systems were restored. Only the missing limb reminded me of what I'd lost.
"Thank you for your help," I said as I stood up from the cot.
"Anytime," Catherine replied.
"Well then, Catherine… I won't keep you from your work any longer," I added.
"Oh, not at all it's a pleasure! Besides, it gave me a rare moment to rest from the endless flow of patients. We've been assigned to the night shift," Catherine paused for a second, "and I have a small favor to ask. Would you mind keeping an eye on my kids tonight? Just make sure they go to bed and don't sneak off into the night unsupervised," she asked.
"I get it. You just want what's best for them and to keep them safe from what's out there. But they might not see it that way," I said, thinking of my own experiences.
"Yeah, you're probably right," Catherine agreed, offering a small, bittersweet smile. "That's what being a parent is discipline, then forgiveness. So… will you do it?"
"I'll look after them. But are you sure you trust me that much to leave them in my care?" I asked.
"I've seen everything I need to. Call it a woman's intuition. I'll be back by morning," she said with quiet confidence. Ah, that mysterious sixth sense of women.
"I'll be waiting," I replied.
We said our quick goodbyes, and I headed toward her home. On the way, my mind wandered back to the memories that had started resurfacing. It felt like the barriers in my mind were beginning to crumble, and flashes of my children kept returning… but never of my wife.
So maybe… not everything had been bad. I was a good father. I had loved my family.But then came the job it changed me. Made me bitter, hard, emotionally distant. I pushed away the people I loved most. And for what? To chase a dream of making the world a better place? Preventing crimes? Saving lives? There's one thing I know for sure now it wasn't worth the cost.
The walk didn't take long, and soon I was standing at Catherine's front door. She'd given me the pin code. I typed it in and stepped inside. The house was quiet, and I made my way to the kitchen. A lot had changed since my last visit fresh paint on the walls, a new table. Small repairs, but noticeable.
I glanced around and decided to check the fridge, just in case the kids got hungry. Opening it, I found neatly organized food in labeled containers. Catherine was clearly practical. The meals looked home-cooked and prepared for several days in advance.
"Who are you? I have a weapon," a girl's voice rang out unexpectedly.
I turned and locked eyes with a teenage girl.
Her name came back to me in an instant. Closing the fridge, I began speaking calmly.
"My name is Matthew Carrington. I'm a friend of your mom's. She's working late tonight, and she asked me to keep an eye on you," I explained, noting the pistol in her hand.Then again, why was I surprised? Everyone around here seemed to have a gun.
"She didn't say anything about that," she said cautiously, not lowering the weapon.
"You can call and ask her," I suggested.
She stared at me for a few moments. Then her eyes blinked a couple of times maybe running a scan and finally, she lowered the gun.
"Just don't tell her I took her pistol," she said quickly, then ran off.
I heard her footsteps retreat and return a few moments later.
The kitchen light clicked on, and I got a better look at her. She did resemble Catherine, though there were obvious differences short hair, a few tattoos visible on her forearms and neck. She was dressed casually: loose shorts and a T-shirt.
[image]
"I'm sixteen, I've been grown up for a while now, so you don't need to babysit me," she said defiantly.
"It's dangerous out there right now. Your mother would feel better knowing her kids are safe. Where's Chelsea?" I asked.
"In her room. I told her to stay put when I thought we were being robbed," Mary replied, her pupils flashing again a few times.
At that moment, her younger sister about eight years old joined us. She stood shyly behind Mary, peeking out from behind her and watching me with curiosity.
"You're the one Mom talked about, the nice cop who saved her," Chelsea said with warmth and clarity in her voice.
"Yes, that was me," I replied.
"Saved her from what?" Mary asked, squinting at me suspiciously.
"Back when you were out with your friends," Chelsea said.
"You mean the time with the mess in the apartment? Mom told me she just fell while changing a light bulb," Mary objected, her voice thick with doubt.
"Don't be silly, Mary, that's not what happened. I got home before you and saw her cleaning up spilled blood. She asked me not to tell anyone," Chelsea added.
Mary shot a sharp glare at her sister.
"You betrayed me! We're sisters you're supposed to tell me everything!" she snapped.
"Pfft, yeah right! You never take me with you when you sneak out," Chelsea shot back, sticking her tongue out.
"You're just a kid. The places I go aren't for you," Mary replied with irritation.
The argument quickly escalated, both of them talking over each other, each trying to prove her point.
It reminded me of the times my own kids used to fight over the smallest things.
"Please, don't fight," I interjected.
"What do you care? I'll do whatever I want," Mary snapped back, shooting me a venomous look from under her brow.
"I've got a recording of you pointing that gun at me," I said, using a simple but effective tactic.
Mary squinted at me with anger, her lips trembling slightly, but she said nothing. Eventually, she turned and stormed off to her room, still clearly fuming.
"Are you staying with us for long?" Chelsea asked, stepping a little closer.
"Just for the night," I replied.
"It's hard for me to fall asleep when Mom's not home. Will you stay with me for a bit?" she asked softly.
"Of course," I said.
After checking the front door, I walked her to her room. Chelsea wrapped herself in her blanket and settled into bed, watching me. I sat down beside her, adjusted her pillow, and turned off the lamp on her nightstand.
"Mom talks about you a lot," Chelsea said unexpectedly in the quiet.
"Really? I hope in a good way," I asked with a small smile, surprised by her words.
"Yes. You were kind. You helped her. She smiles more now and is almost always in a good mood," Chelsea replied, her brows knitting like she was thinking about something serious. "Do you have anything under that armor?" she asked curiously.
"I wish I did. But no," I answered.
"Then why did you give up your body?" Her question caught me off guard.
"I didn't make that decision myself," I replied, pausing to figure out how to explain it simply. "Others made it for me. But I'm planning to get it back… just need the money for it."
It wasn't really a topic I wanted to dwell on, so I decided to shift her focus.
"You know, there was this one case. I was a detective when a woman called the police saying her little daughter, Lisa, had gone missing. They put out alerts, mobilized everything they could but no luck. Then they asked me to step in. And you won't believe it, I found her. Only… it turned out it wasn't a child at all. It was a doll. A very realistic one. The person who 'kidnapped' her had made a mistake he thought it was a real girl and wanted revenge on the mother. In the end, the woman just picked up the doll like nothing had happened."
"Hee-hee! Tell me another one!" Chelsea giggled.
I had more than a few of those stories, so I kept talking until she finally drifted off to sleep.
The door to the room was slightly ajar, and I noticed Mary watching me quietly from the hallway, trying to remain unseen. Cautious girl. A good trait in this city.