A Murder In Engrams

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It’s raining out. Why does it always seems to be raining whenever I’m called in for a murder case? Then again, it's almost always raining in NeoSeattle anyhow, so I suppose that’s not too big a mystery. The magcab hums as it maneuvers through the streets of the Old Silicon District. People huddle around lamps and under store awnings, tech-beggars beg for second-hand cranial chips next to piles of pilfered and scraped drones, shops advertise //“Virtual Gentleman’s Clubs”// and //“No-Questions-Asked Pawn Shops.”// The few billboards still powered spark and fizzle in the rain, cutting between ads for //"Altidata’s High-Security Psycho-Implants"// and clips of cybernetically-enhanced D-list models selling //"Hungry Bob’s Genepork Stew."// It's a colorful neighborhood, as real-estate salesfolk would say. Oh, I should probably introduce myself. ---- [[That would be nice.|Name]] [[Whatever floats your boat.|Name]]

Name’s Que Quinns. You can call me “Cue.” Work as //Post-Mortem Psycho-Implant Investigator//. That means I check out memory engrams left on the Psycho-net once someone… well dies. Lots of evidence left behind, tossed from psycho-implants onto the ‘net as the brain shuts down and starts vomiting out data. I have a rare talent for reading this data, able to walk through dead folks’ memories like they were VR re-runs on my parent’s old tele-monitor. Its interesting work. Pays well. And you are..? ---- [[Uh...|MyName]] [[Um...|MyName]] [[A spooky ghost?|MyName]]

"I think I got it," I say to Janice. "Oh yeah?" she says. "You know the //Cause of Death//, the //Identity of the Perpetrator//, and the //Motivation of the Perpetrator//?" ---- [[Yep!|How]] [[Actually, give me a minute, I'll do some more investigating first.|Retry]]

I follow James as he trods up three flights of stairs, in the direction of his apartment. He’s muttering something to himself, too soft to make out. As he steps into the hallways, a woman is waiting for him. Maril. She doesn’t look happy. ---- [[Continue...|GirlfriendConfrontation]]

I let James go on and instead walk down the alleyway. Trash lines the side of the buildings, an old man squatting in a cardboard box works to sort broken chips on the pavement. Past the alley is a small courtyard, overgrown and muddy, a flooding fountain in the middle. It is surprising that the memory is still stable here. Engrams rarely spread this far out from its source… unless…. I glance up and catch the glimpse of a man in the far building, staring out his 3rd floor window. I see the fuzz of his own memory engram, entangled up in James’s. He has a clear view of James’s window, watching idly. A front row seat to the upcoming murder. I could still catch up with James, or I could jump into this new memory. Better make my decision quick. ---- [[Catch up with James.|Catchup]] [[Jump into the witness’s memory.|WitnessMindEnter]]

<<set $witnessShortcut to true>>The apartment I find myself in is a mirror of James’s, same layout, same lack of décor. Not same level of cleanliness. In fact, the room is a mess, soda cans on the floor, two full trash bags next to an already filled can. A mouse runs past and I almost jump, forgetting that its just a virtual memory. The man is middle-aged, heavyset, hair long and unwashed. He’s watching his tele-monitor, set to some game show, sipping a SweetTaste™ brand cola. It must be several minutes before the murder. ---- [[Continue observing...|WitnessGetUp]]

I run through the back door, and catch James as he starts up the stairs. ---- [[Follow James.|FollowVictim]]

“It’s not…” James says. “I mean, we’ll talk later? Okay?” Maril doesn’t respond, footsteps echoing out below. “Shit…” James mutters. He stares into the darkness of the stairwell, seeming to think. He sighs and turns to his own apartment. ---- [[Follow him.|VictimRoom2]]

<<set $girlfriendShortcut to true>>We’re in James’s apartment. Their shared apartment, I would guess. Maril is in the far corner, digging through boxes, cabinets, and notebooks in a frenzy. She glances at each scrap of paper for a brief second, before tossing it to the floor, alongside any pens, staplers, knickknacks, or photos she finds. It doesn’t take a detective to deduce that’s she’s upset about something. ---- [[Watch her closely.|CloseWatchMaril]] [[Wait from a distance.|DistantWatchMaril]]

I open my eyes and am back in reality. Things are how I left them, more or less. Thao is sitting on the couch, responding to holo-texts and surfing the ‘net. Janice is leaning on the wall, on call with someone from the department. James is still dead, his engram flickering above. Janice nods to me. Once I know the //How//, //Who//, and //Why//, I should talk to her. ---- [[Talk to Janice and solve the crime.|SolveCrime]] [[Reenter James’s memory.|VictimMindShortcut]] <> <<if $girlfriendShortcut == true>> [[Reenter Maril's memory.|GirlfriendMindShortcut]] <<endif>> <<endnobr>> <> <<if $witnessShortcut == true>> [[Reenter the witness's memory.|WitnessMindShortcut]] <<endif>> <<endnobr>> <> <<if $associateShortcut == true>> [[Reenter Catherine's memory.|AssociateShortcut]] <<endif>> <<endnobr>> <> <<if $murdererShortcut == true>> [[Reenter the murderer's memory.|MurdererShortcut]] <<endif>> <<endnobr>>

“Do you have something to tell me?” she asks over crossed arms. “Hmm?” he says, blinking. “You’ve been coming home late these last three weeks. No messages. Nothing.” “I was, uh, working,” he mumbles. Nervous, possibly a lie, definitely not the full truth. Maril scowls. “Yeah, you’ve told me. And nothing else. What exactly have you been doing?” “Its… I just…” the man stammers. “I can’t talk about it right now. Want to, uh, go back to the apartment?” “Who’s Catherine?” The name hits him like a bullet. The man stammers. “Thought so.” Maril pushes past her boyfriend, face flushed, gaze down. “Fine, don’t want to talk? Don’t need to talk. Silent as always, James the silent enigma. I’ve heard enough anyways.” She doesn’t wait for him to react, but starts down the stairs. I can see a fuzz following her, a entanglement of her own memory engram with James’s. I can only follow one, so I have to choose quick. ---- [[Follow James.|VictimRoom]] [[Enter Maril’s memory.|GirlfriendMindIntro]]

I jump back into the witness's memory. ---- [[Contine...|WitnessMind]]

I jump into the murderer's memory. ---- [[Continue...|Murderer]]

A middle aged man leans out his apartment’s open window, sipping what appears to be a soda. His eyes glance to and fro, looking at the clouds, then some birds, then at James's window. He’d be staring right at me, if he could see me, but he must instead be watching James. I see a fuzz above the man’s head, his own entangled engram. ---- [[Enter the neighbor’s memory.|WitnessMindEnter]] [[Keep watching.|NothingHappens]]

James works with an intense focus. Most of the notes appear to be of a technical sort, schematics and diagrams. I notice one document with the heading //Altidata Gen3 Psycho-implant: Prototype #15C//. James pauses in his search. Then frantically starts looking through the papers he already organized. “Where is it… Where is it? Where is it!” he mutters to himself, with increasing panic. Just then, the door creaks open. ---- [[Turn around.|Murder]]

<<set $evidenceHow to true>>The world slows as the figure steps through the doorway, the edges of the rooms dissolving into pixels, inch by inch. The engram must be nearing its end, and with it, James’s life. The figure who enters is blurred, James never must not have gotten good look at them. Their face is masked by a scarf. They’re holding something in their right hand. A magpistol. ---- [[A magpistol?|Magpistol]] [[Keep watching.|Murder2]]

I’m in an empty office. Well, almost empty. Between the rows of cubicles, and the life-size cut out of Altidata’s mascot (a robotic, anthropomorphized swan, for some reason) sits a lone woman, working at her monitor, emails open. ---- [[Check out her emails.|Emails]] [[Inspect her desk.|Desk]]

I jump back into Maril’s memory… ---- [[Continue...|GirlfriendMind]]

"Okay, then," she says. "How did James die?"" ---- [[He was stabbed to death.|Failure]] [[Natural causes. Wasn't even a murder in the first place.|Failure]] <<if $evidenceHow == true>> [[He was shot by a magpistol, shutting down his heart.|Who]] <<endif>>

Janice thinks about this, then shakes her head. "I don't know, Cue, that doesn't sound right." Honestly I agree with her. Maybe I missed something in my investigations. The engram is still stable, maybe I should look around more. ---- [[Continue investigating...|Retry]] [[No, I'm confident this is correct.|AcceptFailure]]

Where should I go? ---- [[James’s memory.|VictimMindShortcut]] <> <<if $girlfriendShortcut == true>> [[Maril's memory.|GirlfriendMindShortcut]] <<endif>> <<endnobr>> <> <<if $witnessShortcut == true>> [[The witness's memory.|WitnessMindShortcut]] <<endif>> <<endnobr>> <> <<if $associateShortcut == true>> [[Catherine's memory.|AssociateShortcut]] <<endif>> <<endnobr>> <> <<if $murdererShortcut == true>> [[The murderer's memory.|MurdererShortcut]] <<endif>> <<endnobr>>

Janice nods, thinking. Thao perks up from his texting and starts to pay attention. "Makes sense," she says. "I've seen them used like that before, try to make it look like an accident. Must be a sophisticated perp. So, who pulled the trigger?" ---- [[Maril, James's girlfriend.|Failure]] [[Some dude from the apartment across the way.|Failure]] <<if $evidenceWho == true>> [[Woman by the name of Martha Allin. Think she might be working for Altidata.|Why]] <<endif>>

Janice raises her eyes. "So Altidata's involved?" "Most likely," I explain. "Would explain where she got the magpistol.<<if $Jeffery == true>> Also she was on call with someone named Jeffery, same name as the CEO of Altidata. Not enough for a conviction itself, but definitely worth an investigation.<<endif>>" Thao whistles. "Dang, and I thought this was just some robbery gone wrong." Janice crosses her arms. "If the case is this big, what's the motive? Why would Altidata get someone to murderer one of their own engineers?"" ---- [[A very strange love triangle.|Failure]] [[He was the petitioning for a union.|Failure]] <<if $evidenceWhy == true>> [[Sounded like he was a potential whistleblower. The next gen of Altidata psycho-implants are built with an illicit backdoor programmed in, and James was going to report it to the press.|Victory]] <<endif>>

I finish up my report with Janice, writing down everything I observed as the engram collapses. Later we meet with Police Chief Lwazi to present our findings. The story comes together clean: James, a promising engineer, was shown designs for the next generation of implants. Clever man he was, he discovered the backdoor programmed into the chips and was worried about the potential for abuse by Altidata. Afraid to involve his girlfriend, he remained quiet, trying to contact Catherine, a fellow employee with press connections. However Altidata caught wind and hired one of their own, a HR Manager named Martha Allin, to silence their engineer before word got out. Would have been able to take him out clean with a magpistol, if James hadn’t switched out his own implant to one without the backdoor. Unable to download and erase his final memories, the murderer panicked, smashing the implant and releasing his memory engram onto the 'net, incriminating themselves. A few weeks later the case goes to court. Martha Allin is found guilty, but she’s not the only one. Further investigations incriminate the CEO of Altidata and several of is employees in the murder as well. A month later another case is raised, against Altidata itself, after further investigations on their next generations of psycho-implants reveal that James was correct in his fears. That case is still ongoing, and the furor has spread beyond the court and into the ‘net, worry about the excess power of corps inspiring protest and legislation. Several news outlets have approached me about the case, but, to be honest, I’m done with it. I did my job and got paid. Got a promotion too, with a raise, and now I’m on call as the foremost Post-Mortem Psycho-Implant Investigator in Washington State. So yeah, things are good. Just wanted to thank you for your help with this. Might have bungled the case without you. The story isn’t truly over, no story ever really is, but its someone else’s story now. As for me, I think its time for a good nap! <big>THE END.</big>

I jump back into Catherine's memory. ---- [[Continue...|AssociateMind]]

I jump back into the murderer's memory. ---- [[Continue...|Murderer]]

I finish my report. A few weeks later the case goes to court. Unfortunately the evidence I presented contradicts those from other investigations. No coherent picture arises, and eventually the case is dropped, the murder left unsolved. Nothing much else happens, the world still spins, NeoSeattle's still get drenched in rain, Altidata releases their next generation of Psycho-Implants to massive sales, same ol' same ol'. I got paid in the end, but still I can't help but feel that I messed up somewhere... That I was missing something vital. Oh well, there will always be another murder! In the meantime, I’m going to get back to my nap. <big>THE END.</big>

Yeah, don’t stress, I’m not sure who you are either. An engram caught from a previous job? Some fragment of a victim’s mind? An accidentally downloaded bot? My subconscious given form? Don’t know. Just a voice in my mind. But you tend to give me good advice, so I don't worry too much about your exact identity. Oh, by the by, the magcab’s slowing down. It parks next to a tenement complex, one of those old 2040’s units, rotting brutalist concrete, tear-like stains drooping from its windows. Needs renovation, is what I’m saying. The driver glances back at me. I flick my ‘card, pay the bill, and head out into the rain. ---- [[Continue...|OutsideApartment]]

Janice is waiting for me. Past middle-age, face marked by implants, the kind that lets her see things civvies shouldn’t. She’s a good cop, all things considered. “You’re late,” she says. “Oh, you know how traffic is,” I reply, as if I hadn’t just woken up from a nap twenty minutes ago. She shakes her head, then leads me inside and up the stairs. ---- [[Follow her.|FirstCrimeScene]]

Thao’s waiting for us in the apartment. Heavyset, young, nervous smile on his face as we enter. New on the force, somebody’s nephew, if I had to guess. The holograms from his comm-implants flicker in front of his eyes. With a wink he shuts them down, and waves to us. “Oh, how’s it… I mean, its good that you, uh, made it… ” he mumbles. “Hey,” I say. "Yes, hi. We found him like this. The body, I mean," Thao says, gesturing to the corpse in the middle of the room. ---- [[Check out the room.|RoomDescription1]] [[Check out the body.|BodyDescription1]]

The room looks like one you’d see in a magazine, smartly furnished, expertly cleaned, with tasteful art hanging and a new tele-monitor dug into the wall. It’s a near platonically perfect apartment, almost untouched by presence of humans. //Almost//, of course, its lived in quality given away by the dirty glasses in the sinks, a mess in the corner of the room, objects tossed, and papers sprawled, and of course, the dead body on the rug. ---- [[Check out the body.|BodyDescription2]]

The corpse lays sprawled in the middle of the living room. Young man, late twenties, prematurely balding. He’s well-dressed, business casual, the kind of guy you’d see walking out from the office complex of some cybernetics megacorp, coffee in hand. Cause of death is unclear, but its obviously no accident, since the back of his head is cracked open, bloody fibers sticking out. His psycho-implant chip, the tech that connects his mind to the ‘net, sits smashed into pieces among his blood. ---- [[Check out the room.|RoomDescription2]]

It’s the victim’s engram. His final moments frozen on the ‘net. Like the static of reality, ones and zero mixed in with memories, pixels and neurons, the afterglow of death. What, uh, what are you staring at? Thao asks. ---- [[Explain.|Explanation]] [[Ignore Thao.|Explanation]]

Janice answers for me. “The memory engrams of the deceased’s psycho-implants,” she says. “The perp must have thought destroying the chip would erase their victim's last memories, but by the look of Mr. Quinn's face, I'd guess there’s still some data fragments left.” “Just enough, though unstable,” I say. “I’ll have to explore it before its fuzzes out into empty noise. What do we already know?” Janice glances at Thao, who quickly loads up his notes from his comm-implants, the documents appearing as holograms floating in front of his face. “Deceased: James Parker, 29. Worked as an engineer at a corp called… Altidata. Classic loner type, few friends on the ‘boards. Though he did appear to be in a relationship. Girlfriend, Maril Went, 31.” He sends me an image, which flashes over my own comm. Young woman, short-cut brown hair, deep bags under her eyes. ---- [[Continue...|AutopsyReport]]

“Did she report the body?” I ask. “Or… is she a suspect?” “Neither. Though the latter might change depending on what you find,” Janice explains. “Taken into custody just before you arrived, being interviewed. The murder was reported by an anonymous call. Could be from a frightened witness or neighbor, could be from the perp, can’t say for sure now." “Cause of death?” I ask. Thao shakes his head. “Cardiac arrest.” “Thought this was a murder case?” I ask. “Was reported as one,” Janice says. “A quick med-analysis suggested that James's heart was in fine working condition… until the moment it stopped. That, combined with the violent removal of the victim's chip… raises some suspicions.” ---- [[Let's get going then.|MissionObjectives]] [[I still don't quite get what we're doing.|Explanation2]]

“Well,” I say, “no time to waste.” “Wait,” Janice interrupts. “Just let me remind you what we need for this case. You do have a reputation for being... distractible." "Thanks," I say. Janice ignores me and continues: "You’ll be looking through the man’s memories, and any memories of other individuals caught up in the engram, for the victim's //Cause of Death//, the //Identity of the Perpetrator//, and the //Motivation of the Perpetrator//." “The //How//, //Who// and //Why//. Got it,” I say, as I close my eyes, step forward, and let the data wash over me. ---- [[Enter James's memory.|JamesMemoryIntro]]

It’s always disorienting, to open my eyes and find myself suddenly in a person's past. Realer than VR, realer than dreams. Not quite as real as reality, but not far off. I’m in the rain, but it doesn’t touch me, drops falling through my body and splattering on the virtual pavement. People walk past, ignoring me, like I’m a ghost. Ironic to be a ghost in a dead man's memory, but that’s how it goes. The distance is a blur, people fading into shapes, then pixels, then nothings. This ain’t time travel, I can only view things observed by the victims, or other observer’s whose memories got caught up in the engram. That’s the key, to find evidence in James’s memory, or… to find some other memories to jump into. Mostly likely the murderer won’t just go out and tell James who they are and why they’re murdering him, so this is going to take some sleuthing. ---- [[Speaking of James…|JamesWalking]]

With eyes closed, I jump back into James's memory. ---- [[Continue...|JamesWalking]]

James is walking through the rain, head down, fingers twitching. The living man looks quite like his corpse, only more rubicund and less dead. He ignores the people on the street, walks past me, and towards his apartment complex. He glances down an alleyway for a moment, squints, then shakes his head, and steps up the stoop. With a wave of a keycard the apartment door opens. ---- [[Follow James.|FollowVictim]] [[Check out the alleyway.|Alleyway]] [[Wander in the opposite direction.|PointlessDetour]]

The door is unlocked. Hesitantly, James steps through. Its looks as it did when I first entered, albeit with one less corpse. James immediately heads over to the mess on the floor, a slight gasp escaping his lips. He kneels down and starts to rifle through the papers, putting knickknacks and stationaries back in place. The apartment’s window overlooks a small courtyard. On the far building there seems to be a figure, staring out into the rain. ---- [[Look out the window.|CheckWindow]] [[Watch James organize.|ObserveVictim]]

Not much happens. The distant man seems bored, takes a sip. James mutters something behind me. Suddenly I hear the front door creak open. ---- [[Turn around.|Murder]]

An industrial tool, technically, applies a powerful burst of charge particles. Useful, but also deadly if mishandled. Rarely used as a weapon, but that’s more due to its price than its the effectiveness. The perpetrator must be rich, or have swiped the tool from some cybernetics corp. ---- [[Keep watching.|Murder2]]

James opens his mouth. To protest or bargain, its impossible to say. The figure takes aim and fires. A pulse shakes the room, the lights dim into shadows as James falls to the floor. Sounds distort and fade into silence, the walls dissolve into a gray wash. Another pulse, as James hits the floor, mouth open, unable to even hear his own shout. The engram is collapsing, I have to make a quick choice. Do I jump back into reality, or into another memory? ---- [[Return to reality.|CrimeScene2]] [[Return to the beginning of James's memory.|JamesWalking]]

<<set $evidenceHow to true>> <<set $girlfriendShortcut to true>> <<set $evidenceWhy to true>> <<set $associateShortcut to true>> <<set $evidenceWho to true>><<set $murdererShortcut to true>> <<set $witnessShortcut to true>> [[CrimeScene2]]

Eyes closed, I jump into a new memory. Maril's. ---- [[Continue...|GirlfriendMind]]

Maril doesn’t notice me as I approach. She //can’t// notice me, obviously, considering this is a memory. She opens a notebook, all squiggles and technical markings. She squints, turns the pages, and something falls out. A single folded note. She lifts it up, unfolds it. A name: //Catherine//. And a phone number. “That bastard,” she mutters, shoving the note into her pocket. She gets up and heads to the door. ---- [[Follow her.|MarilConfrontation]]

Maril continues to tear through the notes. Something catches her eye. A folded piece of paper. “That bastard,” she mutters, as she reads. Suddenly she gets up, shoving the note in her pocket, as she heads to the door. ---- [[Follow her.|MarilConfrontation]]

Maril stomps down the hall, and as she reaches the end, James pops out from the stairwell, head down. He almost walks into her before noticing his girlfriend. “Do you have something to tell me?” she says over crossed arms. “Hmm?” he asks, blinking. “You’ve been coming home late these last three weeks. No messages. Nothing.” “I was, uh, working,” he mumbles. “Yeah you’ve told me. And nothing else. What exactly have you been doing?” “Its… I just…” the man stammers. “I can’t talk about it right now. Want to, uh, go back to the apartment?” “Who’s Catherine?” James opens his mouth, and makes sounds, but nothing coherent. He’s shocked. Guilty? Hard to say, definitely taken by surprise. “Thought so.” Maril pushes past, towards the stairs. A tear escapes her eye, which she wipes away quickly. James doesn’t notice. “Fine, don’t want to talk? Don’t need to talk. Silent as always, James the silent enigma. I’ve heard enough anyways.” ---- [[Continue following her.|MarilLeaving]]

Maril waits at the bottom of the stairs a minute. Maybe she's hoping that James will follow. He does not. She sighs and buries her face into her jacket, sobbing silently. After a minute she composes herself and steps out of the apartment. A figure rushes past, scarf over their features. “Watch where you’re…” Maril begins with a snarl, but the figure has already dashed into the dark of the apartment. ---- [[Continue...|MarilLeaving2]]

“You stay the hell away from James if you know what’s good for you!” Maril says. “Who is this?” comes the voice. “I think you can guess who I am, Catherine.” “I don’t know… what you’re talking about.” The voice is hesitant. I can hear a hint of panic. I can also feel the pull of the speaker’s engram, their memories entangled through the phone call. The connection is fading quick, so I have to make a decision. ---- [[Enter this stranger’s memory.|AssociateMindJump]] [[Continue to listen to the call...|MarilEnd]]

Focusing on the call, I jump through the streams of electromagnetic signals, into a new memory. ---- [[Continue...|AssociateMind]]

“Don’t bullshit me,” Maril says. “I saw your note. So mind your own business, okay? Or I can promise you, you’ll regret it.” With that, she hangs up. Then slumps on the wall. The rain’s pouring hard, and I can barely make out her mutterings, but most of them are curses of one form or another. Tears sneak down her face, or perhaps that just the rain. Finally Maril composes herself, shoves her hands into her jacket, and walks back out into the main street. The world starts to turn to fuzz, the figures walking past glow blurrier and blurrier. I’m reaching the end of the engram, as Maril walks down the street, away from the apartment. ---- [[Return to reality.|CrimeScene2]]

I jump into the memory of the man in the window. ---- [[Continue...|WitnessMind]]

The man sighs and gets up. He wanders around his room. He opens the fridge, then closes the fridge. Stares at a can of beans he has on the counter. Smells them. Puts them back. Sips his soda. Finally he wanders over to the window and stares out in the rain. After a moment something catches his eye. A woman in the far apartment, James’s apartment. //Maril//, I recognize. She’s searching the room in a frantic hurry, opening boxes, looking through papers, tossing things. ---- [[Continue observing...|WitnessWatching]] [[Check out the apartment.|WitnessApartment]]

After a while, Maril leaves. The man continues to stare, watching the rain, glancing down at a pigeon splashing in the dead fountain. Soon enough a man arrives in the far apartment. James. He notices the mess and starts to clean up, with a similar freneticism as his girlfriend. ---- [[Continue observing...|WitnessMurder]]

I look around, but don’t find much. Trash, junk, unpaid bills. I do notice an advertisement, curled up and tossed, for Altidata psycho-implant chips. //Trust your thoughts and memories to Altidata security!// it advertises, claiming to be the only truly unhackable implants on the market. ---- [[Go back to observing.|WitnessMurder]]

As the man watches, a woman walks through James’s unlocked door. Not Maril, taller by half a foot, black hair, a scarf around her face. She raises a weapon, looks like a pistol from this distance, but when it fires, no gunshot goes off. James falls, dead. ---- [[Continue...|WitnessHides]]

The man by the window steps back, sweating, face pale. He crouches down, hiding. After a moment, curiosity overtakes his fear. He glances out to watch the scene. The murderer steps forward, pulls something out of her coat, I can’t get a good glimpse at it. She waves the device around her victim head. Pauses. Waves it again. Starts to panic. I see a shimmer above her, an entanglement, for a brief moment the two memories are attached. I have to decide quickly. ---- [[Jump to the murderer’s memory.|MurdererIntro]] [[Stay with the witness.|WitnessHides2]]

I stay with the witness as he squats, perfectly still. The murder swings her tool around, again. Something’s not right. She paces in a panic, glances to the door, then out the window. The man ducks down. When he sneaks back up the murderer has taken out a knife and is carving the back of the James’s head. She pulls something out, then tosses it to the floor, and smashes it beneath her rain boots. With that done, she turns and runs out, not even shutting the door behind her. ---- [[Continue...|WitnessCall]]

The witness slumps to the floor, covered in sweat. After a minute of this he sneaks over to a corner of the room and start a comm-call on his implant. “There’s been… something bad’s happened,” he says. A muffled voice on the other end. “No, someone’s been killed,” he explains. “Murder. 280 14th street, third floor. No I don’t know him.” The muffled voice responds. “I don’t… can’t it be anonymous? It’s anonymous. Goodbye.” He hangs up, panting, sweat dripping down onto the floor like the rain outside. The world starts to blur, I’m reaching the end of the memory. ---- [[Return to reality.|CrimeScene2]]

I look over her shoulder and read her open email. //Dear Altidata Employees, This is a friendly reminder that, per your contract, you are all under a strict NDA about the upcoming series of Altidata Gen3 Psycho-implants. We would like to dispel any myths that there are any security issues with the upcoming designs or firmware, and would like to further remind you that leaking these unfounded rumors to the public would constitute a break in your NDA, resulting in a swift terminations followed by legal action. That is all, Jeffrey Almata, Altidata Inc. CEO. // I glance up at her email address. It’s //CathrineHu@Altidata.com// ---- [[Inspect her desk.|Desk2]]

Her desk is sparse, some notes, a selfie of herself by the Grand Canyon, and a cell phone. I stare at the phone a moment. It’s rare to see a real cell phone these days, most people communicate with their comm-implants. Most times I see one its a burner, something untraceable. ---- [[Check out her emails.|Emails2]]

I look over her shoulder and read her open email. //Dear Altidata Employees, This is a friendly reminder that, per your contract, you are all under a strict NDA about the upcoming series of Altidata Gen3 Psycho-Implants. We would like to dispel any myths that there are any security issues with the upcoming designs or firmware, and would like to further remind you that leaking these unfounded rumors to the public would constitute a break in your NDA, resulting in a swift terminations followed by legal action. That is all, Jeffrey Almata, Altidata Inc. CEO. // I glance up at her email address. It’s //CathrineHu@Altidata.com// Suddenly, the phone rings. ---- [[Listen in.|PhoneCallCatherine]]

“Hello?” Catherine whispers. “You stay the hell away from James if you know what’s good for you!” comes the voice from the other end. “Who is this?” Catherine asks. “I think you can guess who I am, Catherine.” She gasps quietly. “I don’t know… what you’re talking about.” Catherine says, with clear panic. “Don’t bullshit me,” comes the voice from the other end. “I saw your note. So mind your own business, okay? Or I can promise you, you’ll regret it.” The phone line goes dead. Catherine strums her fingers on the desk. Then quickly looks through her emails. ---- [[Read email.|EmailReveal]]

<<set $evidenceWhy to true>><<set $associateShortcut to true>><<set $Jeffery to true>>//Catherine, I can’t keep quiet anymore. If these new designs are accurate, then Altidata will have a full backdoor into user’s psycho-implants. All memory-data, engrams, communications, even thoughts would be open to Altidata. This is nowhere on the advertising, I’ve never seen such designs before working here. I’ve switched out my own psycho-implant for a previous model just to be safe. This can’t be legal. You said you know a journalist, can you hook me up? -James // Her response: //Not a good idea to talk online. Don’t know who’s listening. We’ll chat later. -C// ---- [[Continue...|EmailDelete]]

Catherine stares at the email. Then deletes it. Then types in James’s name and deletes all communication with a stroke of the keyboards. She slumps in her seat and shuts down the monitor. The world starts to fuzz, the connection to this engram is fickle. Reality turns to pixels and falls apart. ---- [[Return to reality.|CrimeScene2]]

Rain falls onto pavement. A woman is huddled beneath an awning to a shuttered shop, watching a man walk along the opposite street. //James//, I recognize. ---- [[Continue...|MurdererWaiting]]

The woman has a scarf on, and pulls it tight around her mouth, glancing sideways at the only other passerby on the rainy street. Just an old man walking his dog. She leans on the glass and waits, hand in her pocket. Anther glance around, and she taps her implant to make a call. ---- [[Listen in.|ListenInMurderer]] [[Wait from a distance.|MurderEnters]]

She’s subvocalizing, so I can’t make out the words exactly, but I think she’s saying something about a “target in position.” The voice on the other end mutters an affirmative, but nothing else. ---- [[Continue...|MurderEnters]]

After another minute, the scarfed woman walks over to the apartment. She freezes as Maril suddenly steps out the door, then dashes past. “Watch where you’re…” Maril starts as the woman rushes up the stairs. ---- [[Follow her up the stairs.|MurdererUpstairs]]

The scarfed woman waits at the top of the stairs, listening. No one is following her, except me, of course. She tiptoes over to the apartment and pulls a magpistol from her pocket. She waits. Braces herself. Then pushes through the door. ---- [[Continue...|MurdererMurders]]

Its over in a second. James turns towards the sound. A buzz, a thump, James falls dead. The murder pauses a moment. Then steps over and pulls something from her pocket, a device of sort. She waves it over James's body. It makes an unpleasant beep, accompanied by a flash of red. Whatever the murderer is trying to do, its not working. She waves the device again and again. “Shit,” the murderer mutters, and starts to pace. She glances around, then makes another call. ---- [[Listen in.|MurderersSecondCall]]

<<set $evidenceWho to true>><<set $murdererShortcut to true>><<set $evidenceHow to true>> “It’s not deleting.” In the stress of the moment, the murderer doesn’t subvocalize, I can hear everything. A muffled reply comes from the other end. “I said its not deleting, Jeff! It must be an old model.” Another reply. “I can’t… Speak up!” she’s panicking. “Ms. Allin, you must remain calm…” I can just barely make the words out. “It’ll be recorded, I’ll be recorded!” she says, then repeats, muttering to herself. “Ms. Allin, Ms. Allin. Martha! Shut up.” Now the voice on the end is panicking. “Smash the chip. Smash the chip and go.” ---- [[Continue...|MurdererEnd]]

Martha Allin glances around the room, and then spies a knife. She grabs it, runs up to James, and starts digging in to the back of his head with the end of the blade. It’s a mess, a bloody mess, but after a half a minute she manages to carve out the chip. She pull it out, cuts the cord connecting the implant to the mans skull. Then, swiftly, she stomps the psycho-implant with her rain boot. The world starts to blur, pixelate, slow down. “Run. Martha, get going!” comes the voice through her comm. As she dashes out the door, her memory falls apart. ---- [[Return to reality.|CrimeScene2]]

Maril walks a few blocks in the rain, before turning down an alleyway. She pulls out the note from her pocket and types the number into her comm-implant. Ringing. A voice on the other side. “Hello?” ---- [[Listen in.|MarilCall]]

No problem, my job description can be a bit of a headscratcher. Basically psycho-implants connect the world of the mind to the Internet. They also function as personal memory storage devices, for when the ol' grey matter gets filled up or lazy. When folks die suddenly, the normally locked up blackboxes of their last moments are spit out onto the 'net in a mess of data. Those with the right skills and proper permits can read that post-mortem data stream and recreate the deceased's final moments, their engrams, as well as the memories of those who were connected to the victim. It's all very useful for murder and manslaughter investigations. Get it? ---- [[More or less.|MissionObjectives2]] [[Can you explain it like I was five?|Explanation3]]

"You talking to someone?" Thao asks. I shake my head. "Let's just get on with it." “Wait,” Janice interrupts. “Let me remind you what we need for this case. You do have a reputation for being... distractible." "Thanks," I say. Janice ignores me and continues: "You’ll be looking through the man’s memories, and any memories of other individuals caught up in the engram, for the victim's //Cause of Death//, the //Identity of the Perpetrator//, and the //Motivation of the Perpetrator//." “The //How//, //Who// and //Why//. Got it,” I say, as I close my eyes, step forward, and let the data wash over me. ---- [[Enter James's memory.|JamesMemoryIntro]]

I do brain magic. I sneak around dead peoples' minds and do police stuff. ---- [[Got it. Brain magic.|MissionObjectives2]]

I walk in the opposite direction as James. Quite quickly the world starts to dissolve, people's faces turn to fuzz, the rain fades into nothing. Engrams do not capture everything, only the victim's memories. Even if there is evidence this way, I won't find it if James didn't see it. ---- [[Turn around and follow James.|FollowVictim]]

<big><big><center>__A Murder In Engrams__</center></big></big> <center>Written by Noah Lemelson</center> <center>Noahlemelson.com</center> <center>Nlemelsonwriter@gmail.com</center> ---- [[Start.|Intro]]