Dedicated to Scoot, the storyteller and prompter
Here are your prompts for today:
Write about a book locked in a drawer.
my head pounded, full with missed opportunities
“What else is there to say?”
CRACK ON, FICTIONEERS!
Sol II System, Eden, New Chalcedon. 07:45 Local time Two months after the conviction of Gerard Bergenz for racketeering, illegal manufacture of robotics for human enhancement, cloning, creation of cyborgs for sale, and murder.
Bridgett sighed. The Stockyard was a mess and most of the company employees had either been reallocated or left Bergenz Brothers Engineering altogether. "Bergenz Engineering," she reminded herself. The board had unanimously voted to make Bridgett CEO, which required a name change. The brothers built the company, but the next generation would take it to the next level, legally. Bridgett wanted to begin with multi-purpose droids who could take a bullet or two and repair themselves. The board had other plans first, beginning with cleaning up the Stockyard and organizing company files in the interest of transparency and accountability to ensure no one person on the board had complete access to everything. Even Bridgett would need at least two other board members to create proposals, bid out for contracts, and update any technology. Forget about creating anything new without input from a half dozen men.
That reminded her that she needed to hire a couple of crack engineers and a cleaning crew. She hoped she could land at least one woman engineer; the cleaning crew could be robotic, as long as it got done. Looking around what had been her father's office, Bridgett wasn't sure she was up to the task. She missed him terribly. And for some reason she found herself missing the PI she had hired and his "associate" DB431. She had heard they were on a farm somewhere.
Distracted, Bridgett fumbled for her keys. She knew her father had a book of sketches for future technology to improve human safety and she also remembered that he had written something specifically for her regarding the business after his death. He had laughed, a deep chortle that she loved, when he told her, saying, "Now, don't get your hopes up, dearest, I plan to be around for a very long time." She felt her throat clutch at the memory.
The office was a mess. Uncle Gerard had ransacked the place after her father's death, looking for the book of drawings and specifications. It was locked in a drawer, and she had the only key. The problem now was that there were multiple drawers in the room and the desks--and knowing her father, probably a few hidden drawers as well. Her head pounded, both with the missed opportunity of more time with her father and with the enormity of the task ahead.
"Knock, knock," came a voice from the doorway. She smelled him before she saw him: Kentucky bourbon and pipe tobacco.
"Inspector McElroy? I thought…" her voice drifted off as he entered the room.
"Thought I bought the farm, eh?" He laughed at his own bad joke. "Nah, a week in the fresh air was about six days too many. Still not sure what's next, but I'm a man of the city for certain."
"Still in the money game?" Bridgette asked as she wondered why Inspector McElroy was standing in her father's office. "And where is your Associate these days?"
"Ah, DB is getting himself all dolled up at the Droid spa on Babble. Fixing him up with a dozen new languages, spit shine, the works. Should be back in action in a week or so. And, please, call me James."
"Lucky him. And what brings you here anyway? No investigations, no money to be made. Just a mess to clean up and a business to get up and running again." Bridgette hoped she sounded businesslike, but not cold. By the look on James's face, she failed.
He was looking at her quizzically. "No need to be rude, Miss Bergenz. I just thought the new CEO might want to grab a pancake special and cup of coffee with a friend. If I have overstepped, I sincerely apologize and will leave you to whatever it is you're up to here."
He turned to go, but Bridgette stopped him. "I'm sorry I was rude. There's just so much to do and I am overwhelmed. Breakfast might be a good idea. Friends?" She held out a hand and James shook it with a grin.
"What else is there to say, then? Breakfast it is. Shall I drive?"
Note: If you somehow haven’t read This is Duel: A Tech-Noir Detective Story, what are you waiting for? I am grateful for his creativity, his prompts, and his encouragement to keep playing in fiction world.
Note 2: I’ve been playing with AI image generators. The prompt for this image was a mash up of the Flash Fiction prompts. The results (and many subsequent tweaks) inspired the direction of this story.
I definitely think there’s an after-story between Bridget & James!