Serial Killer Android

by David Scott

  It hurt Dan’s pride and morality to manipulate in this way, let alone to be seen pleasantly engaging with such people, but he knew the rules of the game and would willingly play, offering up his own humiliation to help a higher cause. Still, it didn’t make Dan feel good and he knew that one day he would have to tell these people how he really felt, and then walk away from it all.

  Dan had not intended to end up this way, but in his younger days his belief was that he should climb to the top of the ladder as fast as possible. Now, he found himself bored, with too much time on his hands, ink-stained fingers, and an aching back.

  A bee appeared as if from nowhere and started buzzing angrily around his room. Dan pushed back on his chair and dashed to the corner of the room, hoping that the bee wouldn’t target him with its deadly payload. Such a brave hero, he thought to himself.

  The bee flew towards the window, and into the white shutters. There was silence. Dan couldn’t rest. He knew he had to do something to try to save the poor, beautiful creature. As he tentatively opened the shutters to assess the situation, Dan saw that it had somehow managed to wedge itself in the window trim. The bee slowly tried to free itself, moving gingerly to protect its precious wings. There was nothing Dan could do to help, so he stood watching it, willing it to succeed. Eventually the bee freed itself, dropping onto the window frame. Dan smiled, as he cautiously and slowly opened the window. The bee paused briefly, as though looking at Dan, and then quickly flew away, humming happily as it left.

  Dan was not supposed to listen to music at work, but with a towering pile of general accounts to sign, he decided to indulge himself, popping in his wireless earphones and pressing play on his music application. Despite having plenty of money, with no dependants to spend it on, Dan still kept the adverts as he didn’t like the thought of wasting money on something he could get for free. The lure to buy an exciting new version of a smartphone was cast into his ears, and then his playlist started up.

  Although he was now in his late-forties, Dan still enjoyed pop music. His favourite track came on. Dan started nodding his head and wiggling his body, rocking on his chair as the chorus hit its high. He shut his eyes and smiled, forgetting all about the awaiting administration.

  Dan had always wanted a close, loving relationship but in the end his job had not allowed for it. He was always at work, day after day, hour after hour, and put all of his energy into it. Sure, he had met some guys and had a few short-term relationships. They never lasted. It is hard to maintain, let alone cultivate, a new relationship when you are utterly exhausted or may be called away at any minute.

  The danger inherent in his role at the FBI also created problems. Every time he left for work, emotions would be thrown into turmoil by the panic of knowing that this might be the last time you see each other. Can you imagine dealing with that every day? His partners often just couldn’t cope with this unnatural heightened state of living. Dan also had to steel himself to cope, and guarded carefully his emotions, believing it better to push someone away than to get too close and risk being hurt.

  Unfortunately, overall, Dan offered an unappealing package that few people were prepared to put up with. Dan thought that was entirely understandable. Such a situation would have probably been unacceptable to him if the roles were reversed.

  Dan did once meet someone he thought he could fall in love with. A handsome teacher with ginger hair and far-away, green eyes. He was happy to wait up for Dan, and accepted that he might simply collapse and fall asleep as soon as he got in. Dan would lie on the couch, resting his head on his lap, and drift away as his hair was gently stroked.

  Dan had found this behaviour too accommodating, and became naturally suspicious. He was a detective after all and had to rely on his instincts. It therefore didn’t really come as a surprise when Dan found out that his partner had been on most ‘dating’ applications and was finding plenty of action elsewhere. Dan’s absences were a happy convenience.

  Dan couldn’t put up with it. He held loyalty in the highest esteem and was too jealous, not to mention insecure, to tolerate an open relationship. So he ended it immediately.

  After that, Dan ploughed himself fully into his work and found, as a reward for many late nights and a high success rate, that promotion came fairly easily to him. It was not something that he sought but equally was not unattractive to him, with the extra pay proving useful.

  The higher his rank, the more Dan’s time was taken up with operational development plans, budget control, reporting, audits, performance reviews, and meeting after meeting after meeting. The job he loved was slowly taken away from him.

  Dan was also now detached from his team. When he entered senior management, certain disciplinary items were brought to his attention, with unprofessional and unpalatable behaviours exposed. Dan also had to lead by example and be very careful what he said and how he acted; he felt like he was always on show, and this meant he often couldn’t say what he thought, or be himself. That was one of the reasons Dan gave up drink; revealing his true thoughts about certain characters within the department could have led to his instant dismissal. It was easier not to socialise with them, or to hide away in an office. Better to remove himself altogether.

  And time passes. Dan did not see it happening on a day-to-day basis but soon enough music that was current four years ago remained in his ‘new tunes’ playlist. Sequels were produced to movies he had not seen. Worse, movies Dan thought he had seen recently were being remade, with new actors taking on a cherished role for the next generation.

  Grey hair appeared around his temples, and rogue whiskers started to grow wildly in unexpected areas. With no time for exercise, let alone a social life, Dan found his belly hanging slightly over his trousers, and all of his clothing seemed to be a little tighter than before. New trimmers adorned his bathroom, as the scales rusted over.

  Sitting here alone, swinging around in his chair, Dan wondered if he had made the right choices. What was the point of having a successful career and plenty of money if you had no one to share it with? No one to talk about your day with, as boring as it might be. To travel to exotic lands with, or even just to hold at night. Someone to kiss goodbye on your way to the office. Someone to love.

  Now that he had so much time on his hands, and could lead a steady life, it seemed too late. Dan wouldn’t even know how to start dating in this era of technological romances, where good looks rule and decent conversation is an irrelevance. Any potential suitor would shallowly swipe him away as soon as they saw his picture. Dan couldn’t understand this. Whatever happened to meeting people and getting to know them? Wasn’t personality important anymore? Now, you entered someone’s life to face immediate judgment, solely based on your looks and a few words, and dismissed in an instant.

  Unless you were part of the FBI, you could not understand. The importance, the pressure, the necessity to do everything possible to help stop a crime. You had to give your life to it.

  Dan just could not see a viable option. Too old for bars and clubs. Too unattractive for dating applications. And stuck behind a desk all day long, with little opportunity to meet anyone.

  Maybe this was how this life was supposed to be. With so many people in the world, and a growing population, busy, old fate had no time to find him a forever-love. Dan had consciously decided that he would not allow himself to entertain any more foolish dreams which would only serve to make him cry.

  Dan lolled back in his chair, and took his headphones out for a moment, feeling sorry for himself, listening to the rhythmic ticking of the old-fashioned, wooden clock hanging on his wall. He reached into his top drawer and took out another piece of candy to give his life some sweetness. The artificial apple tang made his mouth salivate and stomach rumble in hopeful expectation. It would be disappointed by the dissolving treat.

  Dan felt annoyed at himself for thinking this way. Where was the optimistic and hopeful person he knew and respected? He put his music back on.

  Dan had alwa
ys been so focused; he knew what he wanted and would go out and get it. It was time for him to take back control of his own destiny, and sort himself out. No one else was going to do it for him. Or maybe he should just wait and see what would happen next. Maybe there was a plan and he just couldn’t see it yet. Dan’s mind went around in circles, in tandem with the motions of his creaking chair. He sighed loudly, trying to expel his heavy thoughts.

  Dan’s personal assistant, Margie, stood inside the office facing Dan’s back and repeatedly called his name. He didn’t hear her, too lost in his music, so she gently tapped his shoulder.

  Dan over-dramatically jumped, nearly falling out of his seat in a comical fashion. The fearless leader reduced to a trembling wreck by surprise.

  Margie kept a straight face and rolled her beady, green eyes; she was used to such spectacle. However, the agent standing beside her could not suppress his smile, quickly covering it with his hand. Dan could feel himself reddening.

  Dan noticed that Margie’s shocking red hair was quaffed particularly steep this morning and must have taken half a tin of hairspray to hold in place; not particularly environmentally friendly but certainly effective. This quirky style, and individuality, was part of the reason Dan liked her, whereas others shied away from her boldness, fearing someone difficult to manage. But she wasn’t, and Dan often thought her bravado was merely a shield to protect the softness inside.

  Dan soon lost interest in this shock of hair, when he focused in on the tall man standing beside Margie.

  “Assistant Director Goodchild may I introduce you to Special Agent Luke Harrison. He’s new. I’m showing him around the office.”

  Margie looked at her notepad and read aloud, “Agent Harrison is 30, originally from Ireland, he now lives in Boston. He is single and lives alone, except for his chocolate Labrador, Rosie.”

  Margie glanced briefly up, raising her eyebrows, and gave a little smile. It sounded like some matchmaking gameshow on the television. Dan suspected that Margie had made it sound that way deliberately. She was so mischievous.

  “In his spare time, he enjoys basketball. Go the Celtics!” Margie did a little fist bump in the air, without taking her eyes off the memo, “And the movies.”

  Margie raised her head and looked at both men, turning from one to the other with pursed lips.

  “Well don’t we all love a good film, darling. So, to summarise, he lives for his work and has no social life. He should make a fine Agent, don’t you think?”

  At that, Luke blushed, revealing the statement was true, and nervously ran his fingers through his curly, jet-black hair.

  Dan stared slightly too long at Luke’s large, wide-set dark brown eyes, which stood out from his tanned, angular face adorned with dark, shaped stubble. He was traditionally handsome, and looked like the sort of person you might see advertising deodorant or some middle-class fitness magazine.

  “Hello, Chief, very pleased to meet you.” Luke said, with a soft Irish accent, and reached out his hand confidently. Dan shook it, his palms unattractively sweaty.

  “You too, Agent Harrison. So, this is your first day. Well, it is great to have you on the team. I hope you are settling in well, and everyone has been welcoming?”

  Dan sounded overly interested and was annoyed with himself for giving in to his shallow desires.

  “Yes, Chief. Everyone’s been great. In fact, a few of us are heading to the bar tonight if you would like to join us?”

  “Thank you for asking Agent Harrison but, unfortunately, I have some urgent business to attend to this evening.” Dan said, using a well-practised tone of disappointment.

  This was a lie, but the truth was long, boring and complicated; he did not want to detail that he did not drink and, coupled with being in a more senior position, always felt awkward and unwelcome at such social occasions. It would be inappropriate, and so he forgave himself for the deception.

  “Well we had better leave you to your urgent business.” Margie said sarcastically, knowing only too well that Dan was making up excuses. Dan had almost forgotten she was in the room, he was so transfixed by Luke.

  “Yes, thank you Margie. It was nice to meet you Agent Harrison. My door is always open if you need me.”

  “Thank you, Chief.”

  Their eyes met and they stared at each other a second longer than was comfortable. They looked away simultaneously. Luke then turned, and walked out of the door, held open by Margie.

  Dan couldn’t help but steal a look at Luke’s toned figure, displayed well in his fitted white shirt and tight, navy trousers. He tried to deny his attraction to Luke and to force his mind away from inappropriate thoughts.

  Dan was significantly older than Luke, and thought himself unattractive or, at best, ordinary; he stood up and looked in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door. A dour figure stared back; slightly overweight, short grey hair, always in need of a cut, sunken blue eyes underscored by dark bags, and plenty of wrinkles. He knew he had little to offer and felt like a stupid old fool for even considering the possibility of any intimate relationship. Dan returned to his upbeat music to dull his melancholy.

  THREE

  Pulcinella approached the entrance to the gentrified, gated community.

  Ten identical houses stood closely next to one another but separate, architecturally designed to form a perfect curve. Cheaply made to maximise profit but creating a façade of luxury. Surrounded by an ornate, black metal fence to stop any unwelcome contamination from the lower classes. Fake flowers crafted from fool’s gold beautified the menacing structure. Painted silver spears adorned the highest points, making any ascent perilous. An ugly beauty to behold.

  Pulcinella moved over to the control box, and opened the large swing gates, which juddered open to welcome it in to meet the precious residents. It walked through, stopping briefly to change the passcode.

  Automatically closing, the gates scraped the tarmac with their metallic heels in resistance, as they unwillingly betrayed their masters. The resting animals now trapped within; encaged by an unfeeling keeper, compelled to put them all to sleep.

  It was the last night of the month. Pulcinella’s beautiful clockwork motions stirred excitedly, fully engaged for the first time. The moon watched from up-high, shining a spotlight on its stage. The main player at its centre was ready for opening night. Everything was set.

  Pulcinella had retained its shiny white, new plastic shell. Its program had detected no need for a human skin tone at this moment. It had no vanity or sense of making an impression, so it stood naked. A virgin body about to encounter deathly promiscuity.

  The moonlight reflected off Pulcinella, illuminating its presence like some alien being. Otherwise, darkness consumed the landscape. It was eerily quiet and still. Other creatures of the night seemed to sense the terror to come, and had fled the scene.

  Pulcinella had meticulously observed the inhabitants for some time, and knew the exact comings and goings of each household. The predictable mediocrity lifestyles of the middle classes made this task easy; even the most basic processor could have timetabled the repeating, simple schedules of school runs, gym classes, dinner times, and lights out.

  Pulcinella approached the first dwelling in the street and stood in perfect silence outside the wide bay window. It looked through. The family of four were eating dinner in front of the television. Trays on their laps, with large circular plates filled to their brims and mounted high with fat-laden food. They ate quickly but tasted nothing.

  They sat in familiar company, but did not engage with one another; hypnotised by the glowing screen. Laughing hyenas devouring the flesh of a set of wannabe celebrities torturing their talents for some cloned singing competition which never seemed to end. Exposed dreams and false promises, set to build people up, only to cruelly tear them down; a new gladiatorial arena for the middle classes.

  Pulcinella knocked gently on the door. It could hear everything and listened.

  “Who would be kno
cking at this time of night, Velma? It must be one of your friends. Go get it.”

  The obese husband ordered his wife, spitting food as he spoke, adding more grease stains to his over-tight, luxury-branded, green polo shirt. He shuffled in his chair, frustrated that his evening had been interrupted. His grey sweat pants stretched further to accommodate him. His short, dumpy legs barely touched the floor. He mopped his sweating, red brow with his small fingers.

  Velma had no friends. Her life was one long servitude to her husband and two boys. She hadn’t known friendship since university. In fact, she had not felt anything for some time. She would walk up and down the parallel supermarket aisles without even registering what she was doing. A living robot.

  Velma occasionally fantasised that her life would change. An unknown talent would be discovered. Lady Chatterley’s lover would find her, and give release to this desperate housewife. Her carefully selected lottery numbers would roll out of the tumbler to make her independently rich. But none of it ever happened. Depression had consumed her long ago, and to Velma it felt like it was too late to regurgitate her soul.

  Not that her husband knew or cared about this. His priority was his work, selling unnecessary products at elevated prices. Buying flash cars and expensive trinkets, vulgar gold watches and chains, to prove his importance and mask his lack of any pleasing personality. Believing his platinum air miles card somehow made him better than everyone else. But he was not wealthy, crippled with a large mortgage that would prevent his retirement for many years, and this, coupled with his age and unattractive appearance, had prevented any longed-for affair.

  Velma didn’t question the order to open the door, and slouched slowly, almost acceptingly, towards her fate.

  Pulcinella pulled on its mask, ready. Its eyes glowed red. The leather mask heated and exuded a new, musky smell. The sharp beak pointed towards its incoming prey.