It's an accident of fate that put you on the spot when Mac's call came in fate and personnel allocation policy, actually: all that, and politics beside. And it's down to the front desk to cadge a ride. There's a whole lot more to shift-end handover than that, but something tells you that McDougall's case is going to take priority. You sigh, then reach up, tear down the control room, wad it up into a ball of imaginary paper, and shove it across to sit in his dock. You can see him muttering under his breath, crooning lyrics to a musically themed interface.
I'll take care of things, you watch me." Then he drops back into his cocoon of augmented reality. Ping me if anything comes up."Įlvis bobs his head, then does something complex with his hands. "I'm off duty in ten, so you're holding the fort. He nods, catches it, and drags it down to his dock. "I've got to head out, got a call," you say, poking the red-glowing hover-fly case number across the desktop in his direction. Sergeant Elvis-not his name, but the duck's arse fits his hair-style-is either grooving to his iPod or he's really customized his haptic interface. If you can you hold it together for ten minutes, I'll be along." It's easy walking distance, but you might as well bag a ride if there's one in the shed. You look at the map and see his push-pin. A two-wetsuit job means kinky beyond the call of duty. Wow, that's something out of the ordinary. I don' like to bug you, but I need a second opinion. "I didna want to spread this'un around, skipper, but it's a two-wetsuit job. "Ye ken a goner when ye see wan." McDougall's Loanhead accent comes out to play when he's a tad stressed. What he isn't saying is probably more important than what he is, but in these goldfish-bowl days, no cop in their right mind is going to say anything prejudicial over an evidence channel. Berman's got her sittin' doon with a cuppa in the living room while I log the scene." "Victim's cleaner was first on the scene, she had a wee panic, then called 112. There's something odd about his voice, and there's no video. Constable Berman was first responder, an' she called me in." Jase pauses for a moment. I'm on Dean Park Mews, attendin' an accidental death, no witnesses. You push back your chair, stretch, and wait while Mac's icon pulses, then expands. Chu's shoulders when he comes on shift, so that's you on the spot: you with your shift-end paper-work looming, an evening's appointment with the hair salon, and your dodgy gastric reflux. You can't think of a reasonable excuse to dump it on D.
Stick em up rule34 software#
"Jesus fucking Christ," you subvocalize, careful not to let it out aloud-the transcription software responds erratically to scatology, never mind eschatology-and wave two fingers at Mac's icon. It's a slow Tuesday afternoon, and you're coming to the end of your shift on the West End control desk when Sergeant McDougall IMs you: INSPECTOR WANTED ON FATACC SCENE. Three ex-con spammers have been murdered, and Liz must uncover the link between them before these homicides go viral. A Crash Course in the History of Black Science Fictionĭetective Inspector Liz Kavanaugh is head of the Rule 34 Squad, monitoring the Internet to determine whether people are engaging in harmless fantasies or illegal activities.200 Significant SF Books by Women, 1984-2001.
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