“How are you feeling?

” Eli could see the frantic worry in her olive green eyes through the 
smudges on his sister’s goggles and the oversized glasses she wore underneath. Her hair was a 
mess--tight brown curls sticking out haphazardly from the bun at the base of her neck.  
 
“I don’t know, have you always had three heads?” Eli smirked and the action caused an 
unfamiliar stiffness in his left eye. Cassie had warned him that it might take a couple of days to 
get used to the machinery in his iris but the feeling was drastically different than what he had 
anticipated.  
 
“Not funny, Eli. Any pain? Trouble thinking? Blurred vision? Inability to close your eyes? 
Ringing in the ears? Naus--” She was speaking at about five thousand miles a minute and Eli 
could barely keep up.  
 
“Cassie, relax for five seconds. I feel fine. A little stiffness when I move it but no pain.” She shined 
a light in his eyes for the third time in the last hour and checked his vitals again.  
 
“Everything looks fine.” She worried her bottom lip. “ Try to activate the implant.” 
 
“How do I do that?”   
 
“Blink twice.” Eli did and immediately a metallic lens, not unlike that of a camera overlaid his 
iris and the world around him was coated in a cerulean film. What looked like the digital overlay 
of a camera boxed his vision--the time, date, and coordinates appearing in the top left corner of 
the thin lines.   
 
Activation code required. 
 
Eli nearly jumped out of his chair. “What the fuck is talking to me?”  
 
“Oh, that’s Thelma, the AI I built for the system.” Cassie sat in a desk chair and rolled across the 
room to her computer.” “You’ll need an activation code Try thinking,” she typed for several 
seconds, “159236-45-10.”   
 
159236-45-10. 
 
Code accepted. Good evening, Eli. My name is Thelma. Welcome to beta version 2.476 of the 
Rapid Evidence Collection, Organization, and Networking system.  
 
“Jesus Christ, this is insane.” Eli smirked. “Can I go hunt down replicants now?” Cassie threw a 
notebook at him--and missed wildly.  
 
“This isn’t Blade Runner and, as far as I know, those don’t exist.” Cassie grabbed a machine Eli 
didn’t recognize off of the table and attached two of its electrodes to his head. He could see lines 
of computer codes and what looked like his brain waves on the screen in her hands. 
 
“Well then you better get crackin’ or I’ll be out of a job.” She shook her head, barely paying him 
any attention as she worked.  
 
“R.E.C.O.N. is a comprehensive data collection device. Not a weapon.” She dropped all inflection 
from her voice.” It collects, analyzes, and catalogues information useful to law enforcement 
agencies in a way that is more efficient than anything they've ever seen. Blah, blah, blah, more 
marketing spiel mumbo jumbo.” Cassie sighed in exasperation and removed the machine from 
his head. “I told you this before we started testing with the external unit--do you ever listen 
when I speak?”  
 
“I do if it helps you sleep at night. Does this thing come with a user manual?”  
  
*** 
Eli knelt in the snow, shining a flashlight through the darkness to observe the spatter of blood 
on the sidewalk. ​The victim couldn’t have been here long​, he thought blinking twice in quick 
succession—activating the implant in his brain. Within seconds, a layer of blue coated the world 
around him yet again, blood already in hidden by the falling snow gleaming like it was under a 
blacklight.  
 
Good evening, Eli. This blood splatter appears to be from a stab wound in the stoma—  
 
Silent Mode, Thelma. I’m working.​ The voice was quiet, barely audible inside his head but with 
his already swirling thoughts and the Lieutenant’s judgmental silence, it was deafening. “The 
unsub must have stabbed the victim here, Lieutenant. A stomach wound, somewhere around the 
liver, based on the amount of blood.”  
 
“Somewhere around the liver? You a fucking CSI now, Jones?”  
  
“I take samples to the lab and Simon rambles--sometimes I listen. “ Eli shrugged. “They couldn’t 
have left the victim here for long without fear of discovery and, assuming the incident is relat--” 
 
“Assuming the incident is related, my ass. It’s fucking related.” Eli bristled at being interrupted 
but kept his mouth shut. He knew he would get nothing from snapping at Pierce except a 
terrible attitude and cold shoulder for the rest of their shift. He took a deep breath and 
continued theorizing. 
 
“It is unlikely the initial wound is the cause of death. It is likely,” Eli followed the trail of blood as 
far as he could see, “that the unsub dragged the vic this way.” He pointed in the direction of the 
trail. The second he looked down the street, Thelma busied itself with analysis—opening 
dialogue prompts on the edges of his vision, taking photos of the crime scene, and silently 
asking for commands. It was giving Eli a migraine. ​Thelma, is there a command to get rid of the 
graphics?  
 
Recon Only.  
 
Great, then do that. You’re giving me a headache.  
 
I will report this new symptom to Cassandra.  
 
Fine. Recon only, Thelma. ​The intelligence turned itself off, leaving Eli’s world a quiet blue and 
for a second he was still, relishing in the unfamiliar calm.  
 
“I guess it’s possible, but what makes you so sure he went that way?” Lieutenant Pierce’s voice 
pierced his calm with skepticism, but this was nothing new. ​Partners for over three years now 
and he still can’t trust me.  
 
Based on his background, Lieutenant Pierce exp--  
 
Can it. Stop overriding my commands. ​Eli rolled his eyes. ​I need analysis of the crime scene, not 
my partner. 
 
This particular neighborhood is a low income residential area with a crime rate that is 20% 
higher than the local average.  
 
Perfect, that’s all I need. Silent Mode.   
 
“Based on my recollection, this is a lower income residential area and is known to be more 
dangerous at night and therefore less likely for someone to witness the stabbing or find the pool 
of blood left behind—which would’ve been covered in snow by morning had our witness not 
come home late from work.” 
 
“He dragged the vic in that direction because there are fewer homes and businesses. Most 
buildings are abandoned or condemned, giving the unsub any number of places to hide and 
presumably torture the victim. The other direction heads back toward the city which would’ve 
been bustling with nightli--” 
 
“I know how cities work, kid. I’m not that old.” Pierce, only half paying attention to Eli, shined his 
flashlight onto the asphalt. Eli could tell he was looking for any possible explanation besides the 
one Eli was giving him. Being the old, alcohol-hardened cop that he was, Pierce took every 
opportunity he could to prove Eli wrong.   
 
“I’m fairly confident that if we call for a team to run a blacklight over the sidewalk this way,” he 
moved slowly down the street, “we’ll find a blood trail and possibly be able to determine where 
he went next.” He pushed at the snow with the bottom of his shoe, feigning a search as he 
approached the next sizable pool. He was careful to only uncover the far edge so as to not raise 
Lieutenant’s suspicions.  
 
“Shit, Jones, you might be onto something for once.” Pierce walked briskly to him and pulled a 
latex glove from the pocket of his coat, handing it to Eli. “Now get your sorry ass down there and 
check for more blood.” He took the glove with another eye roll and followed the trail further 
down the street. Pierce pressed a button on his phone and raised it to his ear. “Yeah, this is 
Pierce, I need a team down on 3506 Alexander Avenue.”  
 
He meandered back up the street as he talked and Eli took advantage of the distraction to 
quickly dust off the top layer of snow, revealing the remainder of the pool staining the sidewalk 
before tasking Thelma with counting the cars driving past.  
 
“Jones and I are following a blood trail covered by snow.” The lieutenant listened for a moment, 
his brow furrowing. ​One car. ​Eli could almost hear the question, Has the Vicar struck again? 
“The scene has some similarities but it’s still too early to tell.” ​Two cars.​ He huffed impatiently. 
“Simon, we need find where the unsub took the poor son of a bitch before we can determine the 
circumstances of the crime. I will let you know as soon as I know someth—wait, what? No! No, 
you should under no circumstances alert Captain Barnes.” He was gesticulating wildly now. “If 
you do that, you could send the whole force into a panic. Is that what you want?” ​Three.​ Eli could 
hear Simon’s near screeching on the other end of the line. ”Alright, shut up! We don’t even know 
if it was him. You have that team here in the next twenty minutes or I’ll have your goddamn 
badge, got it? Good.” He hung up the phone with an angry click. “All these shithole officers want 
to know is if the Vicar did it like the goddamn victim doesn’t even matter! You’d think he’s some 
sort of celebrity or something.”  
 
“Lieutenant, with the crimes he’s committed and the attention they’ve drawn—he kind of is.” 
Four. ​The Vicar had been terrorizing Chicago for months, killing nearly two dozen people, 
seemingly at random. They couldn’t find a pattern; one victim was a petite blonde woman in her 
early twenties and the next was an eighty year old man who was at least six foot tall--they 
spanned ages, genders, socioeconomic levels, and appearances. Every scene had evidence of 
torture, the victim suspended in the air with barbed wire around their wrists and torsos—their 
arms outstretched to mimic a crucifix—and a brand resembling the Greek omega on the right 
shoulder administered antemortem.Their wounds were all the same—puncture wounds in the 
palms of the hands made with blunt object, like a railroad spike, and lash marks covering their 
backs as if they’d been whipped. Needle-like stab wounds in the tear ducts gave the appearance 
of crying blood. A statue of the Virgin Mary, sat at their feet and the words ‘THE MESSENGER OF 
GOD MUST CULL THE WICKED’ were written on the floor below it in the previous victims blood. 
Five.  
 
Pierce shook his head, mouth contorting with disgust. “Fuckin’ hell, I’ll bet you when we catch 
this asswipe his trial will be like watching reality fucking TV.” He threw hands in the air. “So 
​ li 
​ ix cars. E
what do you think, Jones? How’d he move the victim without a single witness?” S
thought for a moment, returning to the initial pool for a closer look. As soon as his eyes were out 
​ helma— Chemical Composition, I think.​ The intelligence 
of sight, he reactivated the lens. T
began analyzing the snow surrounding the blood for anything out of place. ​TRACES OF 
TRICHLOROMETHANE DETECTED.​ The words appeared in the bottom of his vision, the system 
highlighting the smattering of the chemical in red. ​Chloroform. Can you store that somewhere? 
COTTON FIBRES DETECTED.​ Eli stood at the words, a theory forming as he blinked away the 
screen and Thelma’s voice.  
 
“In the few minutes since you made that phone call, I’ve counted six cars driving past in either 
direction. Earlier in the evening there would’ve been more. He couldn’t have dragged a body 
down the street without someone noticing...he would’ve needed a cover or a disguise.” He bit the 
inside of his cheek. “If I had to venture a guess, he used a sedative of some sort—likely 
chloroform. From there the unsub could’ve draped the victim’s arms around his shoulders and 
dragged him down the street with his feet on the ground. Add that to the fact that it's late on a 
Friday night and to any passerby he would’ve looked like a person carrying a drunk friend 
home.” He popped the collar of his dark brown trench coat and turned his back to the worsening 
wind. “Of course, we can’t know anything for certain until we can get samples to Simon for 
testing.”  
 
“A kidnapping in plain sight. Arrogant bastard,” Pierce said just as a police van and two squad 
cars turned onto the street. Per protocol, the officers cordoned the scene with their cars and the 
standard police tape while.a team of crime scene technicians received orders to blanket the area 
with black lights and take samples of the snow surrounding whatever they found. The search 
didn’t take long. Within a half hour they had followed the trail three blocks down the road and 
up the front steps of a house. Its decrepit facade seemed to sag in anguish at its state of disrepair. 
The windows were boarded up from the inside, doing little to mask the shattered glass. Brick 
siding crumbled under Eli’s gloved hand as he swiped two fingers across a splotch of blood by 
the steps, the tips retaining their whiteness as he raised them to his face. He hastily activated the 
lens, capturing as many photos of the scene as he could before blinking it away as the team 
moved in.   
 
The wooden stairs groaned under their weight, as they approached the front door, which stood 
ajar. It was missing a hinge, leaning toward the ground as if it were desperate to reach it. Eli 
reached into his coat and removed the glock from holster below his arm and cocked it, holding it 
toward the ground as he entered the house. He activated the lens once again, trusting the 
darkness to mask the metallic circle atop his iris, and set it to record. With a thought, the normal 
blue hue of the device shifted to the green of night vision mode. Eli could almost see the look of 
shock on their smug faces if they found out his eyes could become military grade night vision 
goggles quicker than they could even say the word ‘flashlight’. Rats scurried across the rotting 
floors at the sound of their footsteps.  
 
They spread out to search the first floor, Pierce checking the foyer while Eli split off to check the 
kitchen toward the back of the house. He moved slowly down the hall, feigning extreme caution 
to mask Thelma’s rapid analysis of everything around him. Even among the drug residue and 
grime coating the hardwoods, Eli found the blood trail instantly. The streaks were near invisible 
in the darkness but with the lens, he could see they led straight to the door beneath the staircase 
on the right side of the hall. ​Okay, make it convincing.​ He entered the kitchen, taking in the half 
destroyed cabinetry with doors ripped clean off their hinges and scattered about the floor, the 
piles of torn blankets left behind by squatters, and holes in the cheap linoleum. Other than the 
rats’ nest in what used to be the cabinet under the sink, Eli could find nothing of any importance 
in the space—just as he predicted.   
 
“Jones! Get your ass over here. I’ve got something.” He followed the Lieutenant to the trail of 
blood and the door of the basement. Their nostrils burned from the second they opened it. 
“Jesus fucking Christ, what’s that smell?” The Lieutenant covered his nose and mouth with the 
sleeve of his coat.  
 
Thelma, Chemical Composition.  
 
The air contains traces of ammonia and bleach. Avoid contact with eyes and skin.  
 
Fuck. 
 
The scene at the bottom of the stairs was nothing like what they expected. It was clean--almost 
too clean. Not a single drop of blood was left on the floor despite trail left behind on the sidewalk 
and the upper floor. The victim was a gruesome site. He was chained to a wooden table in the 
middle of the room with thick metal links around his wrists. The chest cavity was split clean 
open with the skin peeled back in a manner that was almost surgical. Eli took a closer look. The 
inside of the corpse was dry, as if it had never contained any blood or fluids at all. All of the 
organs remained intact except one. The heart was missing.  
 
“It looks like a fucking machine killed him.”  
 
System malfunction.​ ​Eli froze.  
 
​ hit, 
Fuck. Not now.​ He turned away as the implant rolled itself along his iris of its own accord. S
​ he screen glitched between modes, flashing 
Cassie, you said you worked out all of the kinks. T
​ helma, system status.​ Thelma must’ve tried to speak but it came out as a 
blue and green. T
deafening, high pitched ringing in his ears. His head throbbed. “Feeling squeamish, Jones?” He 
tried to respond but couldn’t even hear himself think over the screeching so he held up a finger 
as a signal to wait. The ringing must’ve jumped an octave and the intensity was enough to knock 
Eli to his knees, grasping at his ears. “Shit, Jones, what the fuck’s the matter with you?” He shook 
his head and immediately felt like he was going to throw up. “Look at me.” Eli kept his eyes to the 
ground, unable to respond even if he wanted to. The whirring of broken graphics and analysis 
and the sporadic shuttering of the camera was making him nauseous. He fought against the 
noise, trying to think in commands.  
 
“Thelma. Off mode. NOW.” 
  
“ELI! Who the fuck is Thelma?” Eli hadn’t even realized he had spoken out loud. “What the fuck’s 
matter with you?” Pierce was getting closer. Eli dropped his head into his hands and tried to 
close his eyes but the lids wouldn’t budge.  
 
“Get Cassie, he managed to rasp.  
 
“Cassie? Why the fuck would I bring your sister to a crime scene? You look at me this goddamn 
second.” Pierce grabbed Eli by the jaw and forced his face up. Through the chaos of numbers and 
symbols and glitching colors behind his eyes, he could see the shock on the Lieutenant’s face. 
“What the hell is that?” His tone was quiet now. He let go of Eli’s jaw and took a step back, 
drawing his gun. “What the fuck are you?” Pierce’s glanced at the dried out corpse on the table. 
Eli recognized that look, it wasn’t the first time the Lieutenant had considered him a suspect. But 
this was the first time he had any proof. Eli tried to explain but the storage systems started 
scattering documents and photos across his field of vision like a filing cabinet had exploding 
behind his eyes and the words were stuck again. He vaguely heard Pierce call for backup and the 
jangle of handcuffs.  
 
“Detective Eli Jones, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used 
against you in a court of law…”  
 
Eli must’ve passed out because he didn’t hear the end of the speech. When he awoke, it was quiet 
again. The malfunction was over. The handcuffs were cold against his wrists but nowhere near 
as cold as the air in the squad car. It was different from the perspective of the criminal. From this 
seat, Eli could see the tension in the Lieutenant’s jaw and the whiteness of his knuckles as 
gripped the steering wheel. His partner. Josiah Pierce. A man he respected and admired. He 
wouldn’t even look him in the eye as they walked from the car into the station.  
 
The precinct stopped the second they walked through the door. It wasn’t everyday a cop was 
arrested for murder, especially the detective with the highest arrest rate in the state and news 
travels fast. Pierce did his best to hide Eli with his body and took him to interrogation. Eli 
couldn’t even begin to worry about what anyone thought through the throbbing in his head and 
the ringing that had started again in his ears. ​Can the voices in your head burst your eardrums? 
He wondered as Pierce sat him at the table and locked the cuffs to it. Eli didn’t resist. He just felt 
nauseous. He closed his eyes and dropped his head to the table, the cold metal providing 
momentary relief from the pain. Eli heard the Lieutenant begin to walk away and then stop. He 
opened his eyes to see Pierce standing awkwardly in the doorway. He still wouldn’t look Eli in 
the eye.  
 
“Get Cassie,” Eli rasped. He felt like he hadn’t had a glass of water in a week. “Tell her to bring the 
test kit, she’ll know what that means.”  
 
“You’re in no place to be making any goddamn demands.” Pierce in no way sounded sure. His 
brow was furrowed and shifted his weight uneasily back and forth. Eli tried to lift his head from 
the table but it felt like someone had dropped a cinderblock on the back of his neck.  
 
“We can’t catch the actual killer if I’m dead.” Pierce stopped breathing. The silence was heavy 
and did nothing to drive the blackness that threatened to overtake him from his mind.  
 
“Are you human?”  
 
“Yes.” His eyes were falling shut. 
 
“Then what the fu—”   
 
“A feat of neural engineering is what Cassie calls it. Bring her here and I’ll tell you anything you 
want to know.” His words were beginning to slur and the room was swimming. He closed his eyes 
to keep from vomiting.   
 
“Fine. Don’t you fucking die before I get back, Jones.” And with that Eli heard the Lieutenant 
leave the room and then nothing.