015 – Another Discovery

Part 2

vers 1.0

Brad transferred to a smaller single pod for the last leg of his journey. The stench of the crowds transferring tonight was heavy with travel commute stress.

Rubenz thought the smell alone was enough to give him a headache.  It wasn't the first time he wondered if the headache was just a mental thing or if there really was a type of accumulated air pollution triggered by such high numbers of people.

He mumbled, "Why the do I keep making these stupid trips to crime scenes?" So what if he closed cases a little slower?  While he did like having the reputation of being fast, it was the closing of the case that was most important.  He just couldn't completely rely on the recorded version of the crime scene alone.  If that cost him one closed case a year, it was too many.

When he got to his house, there was a digital delivery message on his door.  He walked inside, and opened his digital mail box as he walked towards the kitchen.

There was a flashing red urgent message from Goozmos, the monopolistic media company that controlled most of the content, entertainment and news on the internet.

Your personal contract needs to be updated and signed.  Until we receive your updated contract, we will have to hold all revenue earned on your accounts.  If the updated contract is not received within a three (3) day period, your pending earnings will be forfeit.  If the updated contract is not received within five (5) days, your account will be placed in suspension for a period no less than 1 year.

"Shit," Rubenz said to himself.  “That's all I need”, he thought.

He forwarded the message to his automated legal advisor program.  It processed for about thirty seconds and came back with a rapid message stating,

"The new contract has changed in two substantial ways:
1.  The new agreement calls for your release of your personal image to be used, reused, repurposed, modified and broadcast at the discretion of Goozmos in return for an increase in usage rights revenue for this image at a rate of $0.2346 cpm.
2.  Your account level as been graduated to the status of 'Temporary Web Celebrity" which entitles you to access to Goozmos talent agents, at a fee of $0.00000063 of your web contents total cpm, including the use of your personal image.

In layman terms, Goozmos feels your personal image has greater value as you are now a temporary web celebrity.  They will hold your account and all revenues, past and future hostage, until you agree to their terms.  As they are a monopoly and have greater legal resources than your personal financial statement currently indicates, it is advised that you agree as quickly as possible and return this agreement.

*DISCLAIMER - Personal Automated Legal Advisor Wizard Inc is a subsidiary of Goozmos Inc, an independent legal review would be advised.

"Well that can't be good.”  Brad flipped over to the news and was treated to a video of himself shuddering in an orgasmic like way with that damn P3nis stuck to his forehead.

" . . . and an Atlanta Detective was caught enjoying himself during an investigation . . ." the commentator was saying to her anchor sidekick, who was laughing like a damn fool as they looped that section over and over again. "... this video went viral 15 minutes after it was broadcast live to the internet during a routine investigation into the homicide of the infamous King of the Whack Jobs . . ." the anchor continued.

"... family members are calling for the removal of Detective Rubenz from the case as his head is not in the game apparently.. Meanwhile, spoof videos, mixes and other versions of the video are circulating faster and faster.  Estimates indicate this viral video may break new records as it has already been remixed 142,532 times and growing!"

Brad clicked off, pulled up the agreement, signed with his finger on the touch screen and sent off the document back to Goozmos as fast as he could.

"Holy Shit!  This is going to be embarrassing as hell, but it might just pay for his early retirement and after the job the press was probably going to do on him, he might need that money even sooner."

He did a quick mental calculation on a modest one billion views / one thousand x a modest twenty-three cents that was about two hundred thirty thousand dollars or four years salary.

He needed to do some more things to fully capitalize on this fast wave, but he didn't have time.  He still had a crime to solve.

He pulled up his research list.  He needed to better understand the technology, some basic background information, and some technical details, especially about the cause of those welts.

He performed a couple quick searches, and tracked down the name of Razel Tulley, Phd, MD, who worked at Walter Reed Hospital.  Tulley had apparently been involved in several key areas of research and development with prosthetic systems.

Prosthetics had made rapid advancements since soon after the start of the Afghanistan War at the turn of the century.  Shortly after the first decade of that war, researchers were already making progress in the direction of developing prosthetics that could be hard wired, almost literally, into the brain.  They weren't pretty and the surgery involved was even uglier.  But the results were distinctly functional.

The hardware weighed less.  It was more functional, recharged in reasonable amounts of time, and restored a significant amount of mobility to soldiers and later other people that had suffered traumatic injuries.

About the same time, other researchers were making rapid advancements in systems that grew real skin, faux skin, materials that looked like skin, even skin that grew on inanimate objects.

There were obvious things missing, such as a pulse, warmth, or in some cases coolant that brought the temperature of the prosthetic up or down to something close to 98.6 degrees.

Research seemed to hit a plateau until about 8 years ago.  Most functionality could be restored in operation, movement and appearance, but there were two areas that lagged significantly.  The first major area involved tactile feedback systems.  These systems slowed down response times just a fraction of a second in all prosthetics such that movement was still just slightly mechanical in appearance.

The other major area was surgery.  It was still a very invasive surgical procedure.  Depending on what area of the anatomy was being wired back in, surgery could take days.  If multiple prosthetics needed to be attached, such as an arm and a leg, or fingers and toes and an eye, the patient would either have to endure a marathon of surgery that could take up to twenty hours or they would have to come back for repeated surgeries, undergoing, surgery, recovery, adjustment, and repeat for each prosthetic.  That could drag out for months or years.

This time and surgery and planning was insanely inefficient and expensive.  Plus, it always increased the possibility of complications, infection and rejection.

Dr. Razel Tulley had zeroed in on this problem and had focused her research and efforts on finding a 'plug and play' solution.  She wanted to entirely eliminate the need to perform an invasive neurosurgery.  Furthermore, she wanted to minimize the deficiencies in tactile feedback.

One news article described Dr Tulley as, "...smart enough to realize that the two problems were connected.  She isolated and interpreted the actual signals sent by the nervous system.  She identified a method that utilized communication networks in a universal way such that any nerve could function as a contact point for input and output in short, an incisive breakthrough."

Once translated, she then went about designing a contact patch that could interface directly with nerves through the skin.

Her research was speeding along at this point.  The only problem now was finding a method for attaching, 'sticking' the prosthetic to a person such that the attachment could hold the weight of the prosthetic and maintain the intended functionality.

Humans had dabbled in ways to attach prosthetics for hundreds of years, using everything from straps, to screws, surgery and implants and more.  This was never ideal.  It might create chaffing at best, and severe pain or life threatening infections at the worst extreme.

Fortunately, Dr Tulley had the backing of the Defense Department.  The defunct NASA space agency happened to be sitting on a dead end technology.  They had developed something of a tractor beam, a 'ray' that could capture an object in space and pull it in without physically having to touch that object.

The technology worked, but had long ago been replaced with more efficient technologies that required less energy.  It seemed that the tractor beam required large amounts of energy the further away an object was located.

However at small distances of millimeters, the energy required was minimal.  Some NASA researcher had actually solved the attachment challenge long ago.  They had used the tractor beam to lock new attachments of space stations to one another, like magnets.

Prosthetics were developed that essentially had this micro tractor beam technology built in, as the device made contact with skin, which itself had a micro charge of electricity, a connection was completed and the tractor beam activated, which then pulled itself closer, tighter and firmly to any dense mass identified as a stable system, such as bones in a skeletal system of a human.

It was a brilliant adaption and allowed plug and play prosthetics to advance quickly, however, the research articles didn't discuss the demand for prosthetic sexual devices or prosthetics as consumer products that could be bought off the shelf.

Brad replayed his conversation recorded with Jenny earlier.  He re-experienced his amazement that she was ... . had been married and married to the murder victim.  He realized he would need to inform the family of the murder in an official capacity.

He did a quick check of the file he had for Terrence McBoyd.  He was married to Jenny McBoyd, no children.  Terrence was previously married to Karen Chanier with one daughter age twenty-four.

That was damn close to Jenny's age.

Continue to Next Chapter - 016 – The Widow

013 – P3nis Packaging is Good for the Environment

version 1.2

"Well, that's something that doesn't happen at work every day," Brad said to himself, check that, said to the world as he mentally reminded himself that everything was now live.

He took a deep mental breath, something that gave him a half second to recompose himself without the visible stress relieving sigh that he wanted. It was something that every detective was taught in Public Relations 201 for days just like this when they would be working a case in front of a live audience of 1 to 21 billion people.

He purposefully did not move so as not to corrupt the crime scene any further. He quickly looked at the remains of the pallet in front of him. Then, he scanned up. The two pallets stacked on top of each other and on top of the pallet on the floor together had all collapsed on each other.

He looked closer at the pallets to the immediate left and right of the collapse. One looked fine, but the other showed just a slight bulge in the side facing the aisle and more of a bulge on the side facing the collapsed pallet.

He triggered a flashlight with his phone and studied the spot closer. It appeared that the pallet in the bulging area was slightly damp . . .

"Scene Bot, secure this pallet with reinforcing support materials, and cover it in crime scene protective film." Rubenz ordered. The material, shrink wrap like substance that held the pallet and its boxes together was slightly wet and seemed to be corroding before his eyes like watching a slow motion acid eating a whole in the material.

The Bot lightly maneuvered up on extended legs, moving over to the pallet and began to spread a wide filmy substance over the affected area. It then proceeded to essentially blow dry the substance, which Brad new from experience meant that the area was being sealed air tight, or at least as much as possible from one side. After that was accomplished the Bot, began to swath the entire lower pallet in the same filmy material. The second Bot, moved further down the aisle simultaneously, and came back 45 seconds later with 4 large corner braces for the pallet. These were attached to each corner and the filmy material was applied again.

Brad turned further to the right and with his phone scanned a bar code on the pallet adjacent to the recently secured damaged pallet. He queried for details on the packing materials.

Quickly a layman description of the purpose and chemical properties of the packing materials were read off to him by his phone:

"Industrial strength packing materials contain no dangerous chemicals or biological agents. All materials are super bio degradable, designed to degrade into a water soluble substance unless a proper reagent is applied within 15 seconds to halt the process. The most common reagent is made of a simple mix of water and detergent. In the presence of water alone the material will disintegrate in approximately forty five minutes unless a counter agent is applied to re-enforce the packaging."

Rubenz considered, it was standard packaging material, literally designed to be washed down the sink if necessary for smaller consumer boxes, or down an industrial sink for a pallet. In short it was good for the environment.

But something had triggered the slow disintegration of the packaging. He glanced around and with a mental 'of course' realized that it must be the faux blood that had sprayed from the P3nises littering the floor.

He scanned the bar code on one of the P3nis pedestal or holders or stands, whatever they were called, he identified one that had not disintegrated when the pallet container fell apart. The P3nises were apparently packaged for consumer display in what appeared to be a clear plastic stand, leaving the majority of the penis itself completely exposed. There was a small red arrow that said try me pointing to a red contact sensor that seemed to be wired to the underside of the P3nis that sat upright as if ready for battle like a good little soldier.

Brad thought about that for about 10 seconds, he wasn't exactly sure what that was there for, but he had to find out.

"Review the integrity of all the pallets within range of this crime scene. Then proceed to do a progressive survey of the pallets within 20 meters of this area as well. We can't have pallets crushing us, the evidence or damaging more property." Rubenz ordered the crime scene bots.

Each Bot began reviewing the integrity of each pallet immediately surrounding the crime scene area and within about two minutes they were both moving down the aisle in opposite directions reviewing additional pallets. As they surveyed, they adjusted their sample size up and down as they found necessary based on the results the survey revealed about the integrity of the pallet containers.

Rubenz suspected there would be no further problems, but he primarily needed the crime scene Bot cameras pointed away from him, even if it was just temporary.

He reached out and touched the sensor pad. Instantly, he could feel his penis, correction his P3nis growing hard. The P3nis in the stand was even more erect and lengthening a bit. The simple touch on the sensor pad gave him the sense that he could feel every area of the P3nis as if it were his own and attached and hard wired into his nervous system. It was eerie, but it sure as hell worked well too.

This crazy plastic pedestal with the P3nis sitting on it was just like one of those old kids toys, with the 'try me' button. Once you touched it, you instantly knew just how well this product worked. There was no doubt after feeling it, if you wanted a new P3nis, an extra P3nis . . . well this would confirm you had found what you were looking for.

He removed his finger, which was much easier than removing the P3nis from his forehead. He had had a slight feeling of apprehension that his finger would be stuck, but no worries after all.

He looked back to his phone and realized that the bar code information had been scrolling on a loop. He reset it and learned that the plastic base, contact sensor, even the wires were also made out of the same super bio degradable material.

So as soon as the liquid from the penis probably had come into contact with the pallet, it had proceeded to eat through the shrink wrap, the pallet boxes and supports and the plastic pedestals themselves, unleashing about 600 P3nises to come raining down on the crime scene.

That was a little convenient Brad thought.

"The remaining pallets have been secured. Two pallets required slight reinforcement, but all others should not fail unless acted upon." stated the crime scene Bot.

"Terrific", Rubenz mumbled to no one but the world.

"Re-initiate crime scene analysis but start with an area including my person and work out in a radius away from me until this recent spill of . . . products has been removed. Once this is secured again, then continue where you left off," Rubenz Stated and then added a query, "Please confirm that no information from the previous analysis was lost, and please state whether the crime scene analysis will be degraded due to this subsequent event."

The crime scene Bot rapidly stated, "No information was lost, and the possibility of crime scene degradation is less than 0.0001389 percent. That figure will likely adjust downward once the review commences again and the new data is correlated from the point at which the previous analysis left off.

Continue to Next Chapter - 014 – Al Qaeda in Space

012 – Live Sh1ver

vers 1.2

Something caught Brad's eye just in the corner of his vision on the right. He turned slowly to take in whatever it might have been without missing anything. He always did this out of habit, thinking that if you jerked your head when something caught your peripheral vision, you were more likely to lose focus on whatever it might have been.

As he turned his head, he could have sworn that one of the shrunk wrapped pallets stained with blood had moved just a bit. He stared at it for a full sixty seconds, but it didn't move again.

The crime scene bots hadn't cleared this side yet. They were still working the left side which had a deeper layer of debris even though this side seemed to have received the larger amount of blood, faux blood splatter.

He looked forward at the victim again, at the pile of sliced 'P3nises' or was it 'P3nes'? Now there was a stupid question. The plural of penis was penes, but was the plural of the trademarked brand P3nis, P3nes or P3nises?

He looked forward some more and imagined how things might have unfolded. The murderer/torturer/sex worker or whatever they were, must have grasped the majority of the P3nes with their left hand, and cut with the right hand creating a rupture on the victims left side which splattered to Rubenz right.

Then the severed P3nis must have been tossed or dropped in a leftward direction.

Thinking about the mechanics of this movement, made Brad think the perpetrator must have been right handed or ambidextrous. Regardless the crime scene bots would confirm before long, but it was good to have a feel for these things yourself. It gave Rubenz a sense of job security as if he were a half step and a half a brain process ahead of the crime scene bots.

He caught some movement towards his right again, turned slowly and as he turned he was pretty sure that a different shrink wrapped pallet had moved, not out into the aisle but down slightly, although that was impossible as the pallet base was already sitting on the floor.

Just then his phone went off playing "Jesus stole my Skateboard" again. He looked at the screen it was Captain Bruhaus.

"Sir, this is Rubenz." Brad said. He was hoping a more formal tone might help calm the Captain down a bit. He really didn't need the distraction of a pissed off superior at the moment.

He turned back towards the victim as the phone switched into video mode.

"Got some bad news for you Rubenz. Crime scene video feed on this one is going to be released real time under the Transparent Sunshine Law. The DA just lost a hearing with Judge Riccenbaur. Three different news organizations, paparazzi types all, filed for the video/picture feed release.” the captain said.

“We tried to stall, just following procedure, but you know how it is. The freedom of the press is rarely abridged, especially in a murder investigation involving sex, celebrities or politicians and looks like we have all three here. Apparently this Terry asshole was a bit of a Whack Off celebrity. Can you believe this shit? It’s bad enough people have been finding new ways to fuck themselves with and endless number of substances for the last few millennium and now some asshole has to go invent new body parts to get fucked by and with and ultimately dies from it too.” the captain finished in a huff.

Anyway, stay on your toes. The feed has been buffered and will probably go live soon. Check that, we are live now. We will monitor the video feed audience analytics on the different networks looking to identify any audience members that might interact with it in case the perpetrator is the braggart type that likes to talk to people on the net about their crime after they committed it. But all you have to worry about for now is not fu… breaking protocol on live video!

"Yes, Captain. I will, be careful. Everything has been by the book so far," Rubenz said as he thought he saw a twitch in the pallet again. "Captain, I need to sign off, something . . . "

Before Rubenz could complete the sentence, it seemed like an avalanche of penises came flooding down around and on top of Rubenz. They were everywhere.

Rubenz looked up and could see them falling out of pallets to his right. Some were falling into the aisle where he stood. As he panned down again, he could see the majority were falling straight down crushing the pallets below them that seemed to squish, almost disintegrate.

The pallet walls, the rigid structure that held the pallet together, including the shrink wrap seemed to be dissolving.

He looked up again, just as a rather fat penis tumbled down. The base hit him smack in the forehead.

The god damn thing just stuck there and then all of a sudden Rubenz was aware that he could feel himself getting a hard-on, on his head. Holy shit! The P3nis was alive and on his head.

'RUBENZ!!! What in the great world of fuck are you doing?! Get that damn thing off your head." Captain Bruhaus was shouting.

Rubenz was reaching up and grabbing his penis, ‘Jesus’ that's exactly what he was thinking, it felt like his penis, but he was also very freaked out. He was trying to pull the thing off like a suction cup off a wall, but it wasn't budging. He pulled and pulled, but it was attached solid, like it had grown there and the more he pulled on it the more erect it got, sticking almost straight up, with two meagerly haired balls, retracted up just a bit, but partially blocking his vision.

This was a nightmare.

He dropped the phone and dug in with his fingers and nails trying to get them between the balls and the skin of his forehead. He pulled and squeezed and dug, and it hurt like someone was clawing at his balls. And then all of a sudden both of his thumbs slid up underneath his balls between his forehead and his balls and the thing popped off and he threw it up against a far wall, just redirecting his aim at the last minute so that he didn't throw it straight at the murder victim.

He shuddered, closed his eyes for a three count, sighed, opened his eyes and looked for his phone. It was lying sideways in a stack of P3nises and packing debris with the camera lens pointed at a big erect P3nis.

" . . . Rubenz, you need to report into me as soon as you have a preliminary ready." said the Captain calmly. The Captain was never calm. He only spoke this way when he knew that he was in front of a large audience, which was probably the case right now. The live feed was on, but the audience size must have inflated very rapidly as the circumstances grew out of control. This entire P3nis shit storm must be live to the world and the world was probably eating it up.

"Yes sir, is that all?" Rubenz said.

There was no answer. His phone went dark as the Captain hung up.

Continue to Next Chapter 013 – P3nis Packaging is Good for the Environment