book writing. 1

“ I want to tell you a story,” wasthhe first thing michealkimani committed to memory, as was usual when he went out of hisway to pay expecial attention , during his first and, most desireably and undoubtedly asured, last conversation with the mysteriously haggard spounge of a man that he had eventually tracked down after four slow and studiously treacherous weeks of grueling and pain-staking investigative work.ifsuch techniques as arm-twisting, bribing and blackmailing among many, equally unsavory ,others could be concsiencely termed as ‘work’.
Michael was, by job description and experience if nothing else, a private investigster or as many people would have said had they been asked , a certified snoop and pain in the backside who had mostly seen employment from, and therefore was grateful for, the fringe science community of the world. Two months ago a man of average height and bearing wearing a rain soaked overcoat and a weather bitten Indiana-jones-looking hat dropped loosely overthe thinning ranks of grayish-white hair that seemed strangely well matched to the longish greek-looking nose above the narrow, aged eyes that implied wisdom and knowledge only rivaled by his narrower, dryer line of a mouth had stumbled into his rather shubbyand noticeably run-down office. At the time he was in the state of intense consentration mostly appropriate for and identified with attempting to finish off a larger than usual sandwitch. Immediately he had swiveled around in his executive desk chair to chastise and if necessary insult the intruder that had broken his intense concentration and sidetracked his attention away from his midmorning snack.
“what the hell do you think your doing, berging in here like that? Don’t you know how to knock man? And take that god damned wet piece of clothe off before you drip all over my wooden floar.” he quickly shot at the man in the wet overcoat just as he painfully collapsed into one of the two wooden chairs that looked strong enough to hold any weight. Michael was making a dramatic moment of standing up to protest the man’s blatant disregard for him and his instructions when his attention was once again sidetracked by a stack of mint fresh notes that had a moment ago found their way onto the only free space on his desk. Now standing with his mouth half open and staring at the brownish green stack in front of him he remembered himself and the purpose of his office, as a meeting place for his clients.
Half an hour later the most interesting case he ouldever work on started.
He was now sitting at the counter of a noisy bar listening to a half drunk half crazy man telling him a weird story about people that were most closely desicribed as para-normal weirdos from some old movies he had seen as a bored teenager. He found himself wondering why he had accepted the case in the first case. It sounded weird enough back then too when his new client had explained the details of the case to him.
‘atleast it pays well,’ he thought as he all but threw a wrinkled 200sh note at the bar attender who caught it with ease and spread it neately into the under-the-counter register. “another ?” he asked in his friendly yet somehow menicing voice. Michael motioned at the empty mug in the storyteller’s hands.
“ so what your saying is that they can’t be found and if I did find them I’d die a quick and horrible death?” he interjected into the other man’s fevered runting. He noded his head vigorously as if to emphasise his answer.
Micheal put his black leather jacket on as he stood from the metal framed chair. He patted the storyteller on the back and gave him a friendly smile. “I’ll take my chances. Take care of yourself.” He murmered to him as he turned to walk away from the bar counter and into the crowd, in the direction of the door.
As he slowly shuffled in time to the music on his way to to the door he rooted into the inside pockets of his jacket, trying to find his cars keys. His rhythmic shuffling was brought to an abrupt stop by the strong and firm grip now on his shoulder. With a quick, reflexive spin he turned himself, now more alert to his surrondings. He relaxed on seeing the drunk storyteller’s untidy, bearded face.
“ be careful, boy, not to underestimate the danger you are faceing by looking for these people. Very Few people could even start to dream of what they are capable of. Be very careful.” He warned in an ominous tone. Then he turned and slowly stumbled his way back to the bar’s counter without as much as a backward glance to the P.I.
Michael looked in the direction he had gone as if seeing an after image of the man himself. For some reason he felt those words weighing more heavily on him than any others he had heard concerning his assignment. He was pulled out of his pensive trance by the lightjingleing sound that meant he had found his car keys.
In a flash he was at his car pressing his thumb against the driver’s door window. His impatience seemed to radiate around him as he bounced quickly on the balls of his feet while waiting for the car’s A.I system to let him in. a few seconds later the door poped open. He quickly arranged himself in the back seat and ordered the open door shut.
“ Andrew, am a bit wet and cold. Start the car’s environmental sanitation program. Set it to ‘morning sun’.” he voiced into the back sit as he shut his eyes in preparation for sleep.He could feel his cloths drying out and the air warm up as the eniviro-san program kicked in.
Andrew was , of course, the name he had given the A.I. system the first time they meet when he switched on his then brand –new, top of the range vehicle.now Most of his acquentances would insist he replace the now beaten, battered and falling to pieces pile of technology but their words were like the annoying and mostly irritating whining oftiny flying insects to him. He disregarded them without much difficulty.
He had been through a lot as a P.I and most times Andrew ,the A.I. system, had been invaluable to him. As far as he was concerned the car had earned his loyalty, if nothing else, and he would never willingly replace it.
“DESTINATION? ” cooed the A.I system’s mechanical voice.
Michael roused himself upright knowing that it would be easier to program the destination and other instructions into the system manually. He leaned into the side paneling to pull up the system interface and immediately started to finger-in the instructions.
“ INSTRUCTIONS ACCEPTED……….” Andrew informed.
“Wake me an hour before arrival at the coordinates, I will be sleeping until then.” The now dry but tired P.I. yawned into the synthetic industrial fabric which had proven to be quite comfortable in such occasions.

Tiny spasms rolled through the sleeping P.I’s curled body rocking him, both gently and fiercely at the same time, as the mild electricity continued to pass in increasing voltage into him from what was best described as a mechanical arm extended from the back of the co-driver’s seat.
In the background a faint mechanical voice repeated a short, monotoned message in tune with the dull chiming of an alarm.
“ ONE HOUR FROM DESTINATION COORDINATES, ONE HOUR FROM DESTINATION COORDINATES, ONE HOUR …………..” the message echoed into the cabin of the car.
Having received a rather highly voltaged amount of electricity Michael jjumped upright in the backseat of his car with a doe-caught-in –the-headlights look of surprise and shock. He looked around with quick motions and undue alertness typical to surprised and confused prey. Slowly though he regained his fleeting senses and straightened himself into a more comfortable posture.
“ Andrew, don’t do that again….” He mouthed with his half asleep voice knowing fully well that he’d end up having to disregard that instruction sooner or later.
He pulled the nearest screen towards him and started tapping away sporadically. He was rtying to contact the computer systems at the facility to which he was now less than an hour away from. It would be completely desustrous and near fatal if the speeding car was to cross into the geo-sensor protected perimeter, which was praised and hailed as the mother of all intruder detection and ellimination systems in the 28thcentury , of the docking hangar ,where he was going to ‘borrow’ a deep space-capable vehicle, before he had gained access to the main defence systems. And Yetthe thoughtof ordering for the car to slow down or stop never crossed his mind, instead he tapped away at the console more feverishly with a reckless smile plastered, seemingly, permanently on his profile. he seemed to relish the challenge presented by the task of cracking into the system and bending it to his not so whimsical whims.
As he tapped away the car continued to close the distance in an amazing display of worth. Few could’ve imagined that such a beat up collection of machinery and technology was capable of achieving such wind cutting speed. They would have been even more shocked to find the only passenger on it was histericallychukling away as he approached a security perimeter field designed and guaranteed to difuse any and all matter that even momentarily grazed it.
“TWO MINUTES TO CONTACT WITH MATTER DIFUSING GEO-SENSOR FIELD……” cooed the familiar monotone voice. Michael stopped chuckling histerically and gave the screen all his attention.
“…..ONE MINUTE THIRTY THREE…..” the feverous tapping soared to new hights .
“….ONE MINUTE…….” A percieveable ball of perspiration started to form on the P.I.’s cringed brow.
“ ……TWENTY NINE…..TWENTY FIVE…….TWENTY ONE…” his eyes began to narrow.
“…..NINE…..SIX….. FOUR….THR…..” the countdown to disaster was drowned out by a loud whooping sounds issueing from the perspiring throat of the alone passanger.
“ for a second there I almost thought we wouldn’t make it. “ Michael signed as they went through the now disabled sensory perimeter in a flurry of vortex air and eddie currents, leaving a car shaped hole in the formed fog.
Having overcome his briref moment of deep relief kimani expertly jumped into the driver’s seat and switched to manual inoder to take the car to his preferred docking hangar without having to give vocal instructions to the A.I system .
Gently he floated the car into one of the many recessed shadows that surrounded most of the many gray oval shaped structures used for vehicle housing, overhauling, leasing and ,in some oddly firmiliar cases, unauthorized but well intentioned ‘borrowing’. In his yaers as a private investigator Michael had become quite endeviling to these kind of busineses.he took great pride in knowing that some very exclusive blue-blood companies had suffered alittle of what they had inflected on the average man. His personal philosophy of life which he endevouredto live by, but mostly forgot about until he needed something he couldn’t afford to buy, was firmly rooted in the belief that everything and anything was not meant to benefit only those to whom they belonged.
He set off in the directon of the nearest hanger after switching his car off. Stealth was presently on his mind as he weaved slowly forward towards a low laying window in the side of the structure. The metal frame of the window looked invitingly easy to ease ajar. He wwould have had it open in seconds had he had the chance to work his metaphorical magic. The slight snapping of a dry twig in the wind –howling background quickly turned him arouond in time to see but not react to the surprisingly snake like attack from the night-veiled assailant.
“THWACK!” came the undoubtabely cushioned sound that confirmed what the already slumped and fading detective knew was a direct, blunt blow, connecting with his skull and shaking his very confused brain in its bony cage.
The last thing he thought before he was taken completely into darkness was, “this guy is good. Maybe he’ll give me pointers ………. “



The light roar of a distant downpour hung wispily in the night air as the twilight hours of the day crawled closer in their casual, never changing way only to be outdone by the noticeablely passionate din of a small tavern.
The noise in the seemingly small, stuffy andbearly lit bar seemed too loud, when compared with all the other nightly haunts in the vicinity, as customer after customer steadily shuffled in. the atmosphere inside was as easy going and celebratory as any experienced drunk would have evrer hoped to enjoy before the nightly alcohol-stupor whisked them away into their dreams.
“ it’s in times like this that I find myself debating in my head wheather they are voices-with-bodies or bodies-with-voices……..” joked the bar man to a rather ruffled and immensely flustered serving wench. The wild look in her eyes hinted at her state of mind just then as she considered the massive annoyance embodied by the unruly congregation of drunks.she hated them all just for being there, in there seats spilling whole bucket loads of mead and beer and any other sort of liqiud that could be spilled on surfaces that would most definitely provide more work to keep her from her bed after they closed their little, yet impressively profitable bar.
“……they all look like wet sacks and vomit to me……….” She thought aloud as the bar keeper push more full flagons of mead her way which she deftily caught before they could escape from the counter top and onto the floar. She noticed the force behind the push had been more than nessesary to get them across and turned to look at the bar man with farrowed brows.
“ everything fine? Or do you want to defend these old sponges?”