“Yeah, but what is it?” I ask my senior advisor.
“Does it matter? It’s going into Disposal.” He’s frustrated from me asking the question too many times today.
“Yeah, but if I’m shoving papers down a shredder because Management told me to, I at least want to know what I’m shredding.”
“You’re not paid to know. You’re not paid to care. You’re paid to get the job done.”
Fuck. She’s out. She’s out and heading somewhere. I can hear the sound of feet slapping against pavement. Pregnant clouds began to topple out water and the footsteps get lost in the onset of rain. I chase after her, patting the gun holster against my breast more to check if it’s still there. It came with the Bad Seed file in an elegant plastic box with the label “In Case of Escape” in red on the lid.
Flesh beat down on the asphalt in a tuplet rhythm followed by rubber and all muffled by rain. I see a shape outlined by the streetlights, a form looking mostly human reflected in the rain.
“Why do they call it a she?” I asked the guy wheeling in the crate.
“Anthropomorphic embryonic effigies are like boats to these people. She this, she that. Just a pet name.” he said handing me the clipboard to sign, “It’s old and Control don’t want it no more, so Disposal is necessary. Sign here.”
“Old. How old?”
“Depends on when you think the concept of time came about,” he said adjusting his cap before leaving.
The gun is weighing down on me the more I realize that I’m going to have to use it. The rain is penetrating my clothes and the chill is beginning to bite down into me. The shape of the runner disappears and reappears whenever it passes a street lamp. Then suddenly it’s gone.
I stop and look in all directions. The hell happened to her? An alley. She must have run down that alley. The rain is really coming down now. I can see the top of a wall against the night sky. Dead end.
I walk slowly down the alley, rain tapping against garbage can lids. The light of the street lamp doesn’t stretch far, but I can make out a form crouched down against the corner. I pull the gun out and make my way down the alley. It’s pacing, I can see it pacing. Moving back and forth like an animal with no way out. I can feel its eyes on me.
A average gun clip holds nine bullets in the clip and one in the chamber. Ten chances. I have ten chances to put her down. I’m not even sure bullets work on this thing. But if management wants it down, I have to get it down.
I raise the gun up to eye level and walk down the alley, there’s a sense of panic in her movement now. I don’t know what it’ll do to me if I mess up.
I cock the gun, let my eyes adjust to the light. I still don’t know what it really is.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” I whisper, “I’m just paid to get the job done.”
The rain can’t muffle everything.
The End
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