I am finally back home in my very small, empty apartment. It has been a day I will never forget, but never has there been a day I so dearly wish I could forget.
Poor, dear Dr. Horwitzer has passed over to the other side (I do not know where that is, but I have heard people using this term in such situations). And by the hands of a murdering killer. Whom this killer is, I, nor anyone else, it seems, knows. According to the Police, they have what they call “leads” in the case, but I fear they are nowhere near finding the person even as I’m typing this. My main impression of the police is that they are at all times in an almost perpetual state of sheer confusion.
A brutish alpha male, Det. Hammerstein, has been assigned to the “case” (although I will never again refer to Dr. Howitzer and his death as a “case”). I have spent many hours in the detective’s and his associates’ company today, and I would be the happiest cyborg on the planet if I never saw this man again. The main reason for these strong words from me is as follows:
When Ms. Hannigan arrived at Dr. Horwitzer’s office shortly after I found him dead (stabbed with a dagger in his back), I attempted to console her, but I fear my efforts were close to futile. She had immediately walked into the very room where the dead man still lay, face down in the pool of blood, but was kindly ushered back out into the waiting area by a female police officer. Ms. Hannigan was incoherent and hysteric. I sat next to her, and in the practice of humans in such situations, I placed my arm around her shoulder. Whether it helper her, I do not know, but I, myself felt slightly comforted by the close proximity to someone whom I now care about. And I do think she calmed down somewhat.
I mentioned I would tell you my main reason for disliking Det. Hammerstein and so I will. As we were sitting there in the waiting area with coroners and forensic experts and officers hastily scrambling by, Det. Hammerstein and his partner, a much younger man called Det. Svenson, arrived at the “scene.”
Hammerstein is a large man. Not in girth necessarily, but in muscles. He seems to immediately become the center of attention in, perhaps, any gathering of people he enters into. He wore an expensive suit at the time, he has a large graying mustache and slightly graying, otherwise dark brown hair. He even looked like a detective that I may have seen on television. Perhaps it was him, I do not know?
After noisily making his entrance and commencing on rounds around the scene he was directed towards us. I felt immediately unnerved. Det. Svenson explained the situation to him as they approached.
“This here guy found the doctor, sir. He… I’m not sure of his name, actually. The woman is the doctor’s closest coworker and research assistant, Ms. Hannigan. She’s a grad student at the college. 27.”
It was the following remark from Hammerstein that finally and fully put me on my guard about him:
“All right, Svenson, you take the chick into a different room and get her story, I’ll talk to this… Holy shit… Whatever he is…” he said, unnecessarily loud. He laughed and Svenson snickered too as he left with poor Ms. Hannigan.
“Please refer to Ms. Hannigan in a courteous manner, sir,” I said, which may not, in retrospect have been a wise thing to say at the moment.
He stared at me through narrowed eyes. There was a pause (27 seconds). I said:
“She is a very intelligent woman. She helps me a lot. And she’s kind. She deserves…”
“Yeah, yeah.” He interrupted me and there was a new pause (43 seconds, this time) as he regarded me. I felt uncomfortable at being surveyed in such an open manner.
I guessed his age at… well, I’m fairly sure his 53rd birthday must be coming up in the next few months. I doubt he’s married. At least not anymore. Good for his possible ex-wife, having escaped, I thought to myself.
“Who are you? Name?” he said.
“I do not really have one, sir,” I said truthfully. “I have never been equipped with such a societal label.”
“Everyone has a name. Even… Hell, what the fuck are you, anyway?”
I now felt even less inclined to talk to the man, but one cannot ignore an officer of the law, I believe. I wanted to go look at birds in the park. Or count my money collection. Anything but this.
“I have a “Condition”, sir. I’m what many would call a cyborg.”
“What does that mean? You’re just half-human or something?”
There was that word again, “half-human.”
“I am essentially human, sir – I was “modified”, so to speak, from an existing human body, but Dr. Horwitzer has allowed me, through adding necessary technological parts to my anatomy, to lead a almost normal life.”
“That’s disgusting. What’s with the eye?”
“My left eye is a mechanical eye. It aids in my depth perception, since my left eye had been rendered useless during the accident. It also enhances certain other aspects of the sense of sight to a degree.”
“Goddam! That’s fucked up,” he said. I would not say he looked repulsed, but he clearly had no grasp, or interest, in the kinds of things I deal with on a daily basis. I was the “man” who found the body and it quickly became clear that he wanted me at the police headquarters where he could question me far more extensively about my involvement with Dr. Horwitzer.
I have never felt like I am different more than at that moment. This man did not care about Ms. Hannigan and her feelings, having lost her mentor.He did not care about the poor doctor – he sees this sort of thing every day – and he had made it clear, perhaps not in so many words, but still, that I am a freak and a travesty. I was at a low point in the four years of my current existence.
I was then escorted to a police car (not arrested) by the same kindly female officer who had helped Ms. Hannigan earlier.
“Will they take good care of her? And be kind to her?” I said. She did not answer, only smiled a sort of sad smile as she sat down in the driver’s seat. That smile did in no way comforted me or make me feel that the Detectives would in any way treat Ms. Hannigan with the respect she deserves. We drove off down the street, and it struck me then!
I needed Laura. It struck me like lightening. I never needed the support of a human like this before. I needed to go look at the birds with Laura right then. In the park. But how could I? She was not even aware of my situation.
I am tired now and will sit in my Pondering Chair. Perhaps I will get a mild-mannered animal of the feline persuasion whom I can keep in my lap and pet during such stressful times. I more or less, right then, decided that I would, at my earliest convenience.
I must tell you the rest – what happened at the station – at a later juncture. Perhaps in the morning. I am tired… I do not ever feel tired. What if I fall asleep? What would happen to me then? And I can’t even ask Dr. Horwitzer about that horrifying prospect.
Poor Dr. Horwitzer.
Respectfully,
The Lonely Cyborg
