Dust
Gabrielle Weir
Officer 0001: Ion
Officer 0067: Jeremiah
Officer 0512: Christian
Officer 6615: New Officers are only referred to by their assigned number.
Prologue
Year 2124.
There are no more jails or institutions. No psychiatric hospitals for the criminally insane. Just death. If a crime is committed, no matter the severity of offense, Officers are sent to execute the lawbreakers on site. There are no more bodies either. Once shot, these criminals are rendered to dust.
No one sees an Officer’s face while on duty or hears their real voice. The suits are all black, sleek, weapon proof, and cover them from head to toe. When they are done for the day (or days), they are released one by one back into society. No one knows whether they live in a city, suburb, or countryside. Once their current assignment is complete, they are just another face in the crowd. This is done not only to protect them from the public, but to ensure there is no conflict of interest or hesitation if an officer commits a crime.
Team One consists of Ion, Christian, Jeremiah, and 6615 (who is in training). All these are fake names of course. Names from older days before AI took away the use for education and employment. People ended up having too much time on their hands, which went south quite quickly. Without any REAL intelligence or routine, everyone turned against each other. The society that formed afterwards is much less forgiving given the crimes witnessed during those dark days.
The four have been sent to an address in Rumson, NJ. What used to be an affluent neighborhood now only holds ruins. The Captain has briefed them on the situation earlier in the week. Nostalgia, a drug more addictive than heroin, is being cut and packaged for distribution at a residence in the area. No matter how many raids, executions, and shutdowns the teams throughout the country have carried through, Nostalgia still cannot be eradicated.
Chapter 1
“I’ve got seven more upstairs. 6615, up here now.” Christian’s distorted voice came through the team’s helmets.
There were people running all over the old house. Like bugs scattering when a rock is lifted. Scrambling for something to save them. That fight or flight response is pointless, but natural. They knew they couldn’t fight (although sometimes they tried), so usually they ran,
desperate to escape.
“Five down in the kitchen,” Ion said calmly. She always walked through missions. She had no need to rush. “Jeremiah, three are headed towards you.”
“Already took care of it, I’m coming back your way.”
Jeremiah met up with Ion in the hallway that was still filled with some long deceased family’s photos.
“There’s another child up here…” 6615 said, quivering.
“Bring it to the bathroom down here with the others and stay with them,” Ion instructed.
Christian jumped down the stairs and joined the other two senior officers in the hallway and cut communication from their newest member.
“How many?” Jeremiah asked.
“Eight were downstairs, seven upstairs,” Ion took a deep breath, “and with that kid, six children.”
“God damn.”
“You takin’ care of the little ones or should I?” Christian asked matter of factly.
“I’ll go,” Ion said, already walking away. “You two go to the basement. Make sure no one’s down there. I’ll send 6615 down and follow when I’m done.”
6615 was standing outside the bathroom where the children were gathered.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, kneeling down to be eye level with the frightened children.
Ion quickly came up behind him and lifted him to his feet.
“Don’t talk to them. Go downstairs.”
6615 backed away slowly.
“Now.”
He hurried away.
Minutes later, Ion walked down the creaking stairs opening up to an unfinished basement with cement floors and wooden beams where walls should’ve been. Boxes and junk filled the space, and she leaned against what used to be a washing machine. The mouthpiece of her helmet slid up ever so slightly. She brought a cigarette to her lips, which were not even visible to the others, lit it, and drew in the smoke.
6615 was behind her with his back on a beam. A small basement window above him. She could see he was shaking though it wasn’t noticeable to anyone else. She felt sorry for him. He just turned 18, but signed his life away two years prior. Anyone could start training at any age given their parents consent. The pay families received for someone signing up to join the force had been reduced significantly since the start. It was hardly anything now. It became more of an honor to join rather than a way of making money. New officers weren’t paid well either. Ion, Christian, and Jeremiah were. Probably too well.
“WOOOO!! LET’S GO!” said Christian as he paced around the room pumping his fists. He loved his job. Jeremiah had given him his name because of how many people he slaughtered throughout the years. Christian then gave Jeremiah his name because he said he was a killjoy.
Ion glanced over at Jeremiah. She knew what was coming.
“I will never understand you,” he said.
“Still??” Christian laughed.
“How…how could you enjoy that?” Jeremiah was getting angrier by the second. “Six children involved Christian. Six.”
“And 15 criminals…,” he added, picking up dirt from the floor and dropping it again while continuing to look at his teammate. “Gone. Did you forget about that already?”
“This was a massacre,” Jeremiah said, getting more heated by the second. “One we were not prepared for.” He snapped his head over towards Ion.
Christian continued laughing. One hand on stacked cardboard boxes to keep himself up.
“This is our job! You get paid to do this, but here we are AGAIN with you crying after a mission like a fuckin pussy. You like this after sex too?”
Jeremiah charged over and grabbed him by the throat lifting him off the ground. Christian kicked his chest, pushing him back, and releasing the hand from around his neck. Jeremiah went right back towards him aiming his fists at Christian’s chest then head. But Christain was quick to react, blocking the throws, and landing an uppercut instead.
Ion watched them brawl while smoking her cigarette. She enjoyed watching them fight. It was a common occurrence. Jeremiah was stronger and serious, but Christian had more passion for his job and no connection to anything or anyone. It’s why she picked them for her team. The two were now on the ground wrestling like children.
Ion walked over, dropped her cigarette beside them and stepped on it. “Get up.”
Jeremiah obeyed immediately, stood, and outstretched his hand to Christian who swatted it away.
6615 was still silent. Ion nodded her head at Jeremiah and then towards the new kid. Jeremiah understood and went over to him.
“This wasn’t ideal,” Ion started. “But we accomplished what we came here for. Excellent adjustments and work from all of you. I suggest you each go home and unwind. So Christian, I dunno, go kill a prostitute or something, Jeremiah go read a book, and 6615, whatever you do, just don’t be alone.”
Christian started laughing again, this time doubling over.
Suddenly, there were voices from above and footsteps coming down the stairs. The Captain, dressed in a vintage blue Gucci suit, starch white form fitting button down shirt, brown belt, and matching shoes, stood before them teeth gleaming.
They each had their own opinion of The Captain, but the team quickly lined up, shoulder to shoulder.
“That was unbelievable,” he said, still smiling. “I won’t keep you here any longer than necessary. I’m sure you’d all like to celebrate. Return to the station for release. We will debrief first thing tomorrow.”
Jeremiah, Christian, and 6615 bowed to him and walked single file back up the stairs and out of sight.
The Captain and Ion remained with one another in silence. She slowly walked up to him, heat radiating off of her.
“What the fuck was that?” Ion was aggressive and getting too close to her boss’s face. “You told us there were five of them.”
“We received incorrect information,” he responded, ignoring her anger.
Ion let out a slight laugh, throwing her head back. “That is such bullshit!”
He stared at where her eyes would be if he could see them and got even closer to her.
“You wouldn’t have gone in if you knew how many there were. I know you. You would’ve waited and picked them off in smaller groups or at least when there were no children present. There’s no time for your misguided morals today.”
“I have a traumatized officer. And Jeremiah and Christian at each other’s throats again. ”
“The kid needs to learn what the job is about. So we threw him in. Other assignments will seem easier now.” The Captain was nonchalant and calm. “And those two…” he waved his hand in the air, dismissing her concern. “Those two are fine.”
“I work hard making sure my team stays a team. I can’t keep control of them if I don’t know what I’m leading them into.”
Their faces were almost touching and she knew his breath was on her helmet. Ion could get away with a lot. She was the first officer. In the beginning they took orphans, so she was sold when she was an infant. Ion endured the injections and training, both physical and mental, longer than anyone. They call it the “transformation” now, but really it was just torture. This resulted with her being significantly stronger and faster than anyone else.
She was vital to the force and she knew it. Not just because she completed more missions than every other officer, but because people naturally followed her. She was both kind and supportive while being extremely disciplined and unrelenting. Hence the name, Ion.
“Go home.” The Captain put his hand on the top of her head and shook it. “You know I’m not going to reprimand you, and we both know you will be back tomorrow. Or in an hour if something comes up.”
Ion despised him for that truth, but ultimately he was right. This was her job. This was her life. She, along with the other officers, worked to restore the world. There was a greater purpose to all this, and she knew better than to let her emotions carry her away for too long.
Ion moved from under The Captain’s hand. She bowed slowly to him and walked away, hitting his shoulder with hers.
She made her way back into the reality of the mission. The Cleaners were already there sucking up the “remains” of what was once a human being.
She sped up as she walked past the bathroom. It was now just a pile of ash.
Gabrielle Weir is a non-traditional student majoring in physics and expected to graduate in 2026. Being in school again is such a gift and a reminder that anything is possible when you set your mind to it.