The chief inspector was ready for the meeting, though a grey haze had been hanging over him since the incident with the body. "It's fine," he kept telling himself. The haze would shift once this was all dealt with in an appropriate manner.
*
All these rendezvous points had gotten a little confusing. So many twists and turns, deviations and reversals from expected routes.
"Come alone, and don't be followed."
A little trick from the investigation days, before he'd headed the team. It helped to slip into paranoia. "To catch a criminal, it is sometimes necessary to think like one..." He couldn't remember who had said that first, but he held to it. He knew it was a dangerous game to play, but he knew it was never going to be easy. That wasn't why he joined the force...
*
"An overarching sense of duty... a crusade, you might say..."
He hadn't come here for this.
"Enough. No more games."
Spoilsport
"Alright. Sit down."
"I'm not in the mood for..."
"SIT DOWN!"
Cold concrete. No chair, but thankfully no rope. He couldn't see the convict, and his pulse quickened. Attempting to control his breathing, he waited for the silence to shatter.
"I suppose you're wondering about the body..."
The chief inspector nodded, still unable to see his man.
"Trying to make a fool of me were you?"
"You tried to kill me."
Grey.
"The body was supposed to be me, wasn't it? Admit it!"
The grey began to tighten.
"You weren't following orders."
"Orders? Do you even know where my orders come from?"
A moment of clarity.
"You answer to me."
Silence. Grey silence.
"My orders come from higher up."
He tried to breathe.
"Inspectorate."
No. Impossible. He tried to regain control.
"That's right. Her Majesty's Inspectorate of Constabulary."
No. No, it couldn't be true. It had to be another sick joke.
"We have reason to believe you have been liaising inappropriately with criminals and attempting to influence their behaviour with a combination of violence and psychoactive substances."
The grey tightened around his chest. He couldn't speak. The haze was much tighter than before. A pain in his left arm. His breath drew shorted.
"You have the right to remain silent..."
Tuesday, 17 May 2011
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
Mindsweeper Issue 8!
Wow... that rolled round fast...
http://www.mediafire.com/file/3sje78ap7m49g1d/Mindsweeper%20Issue%208.pdf
http://www.mediafire.com/file/3sje78ap7m49g1d/Mindsweeper%20Issue%208.pdf
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
Mindsweeping
So, essentially, all experiences alter the mind. In much the same way that everything that happens creates history. Once it's happened, it's history and that's why "We're witnessing history in the making", while technically true, is a bullshit phrase. It's redundant. Everything we see is history in the making, whether it's a dictator being shot, or the paint on the wall you're staring at while you're taking a dump because you needed to go so bad you didn't have time to look for a magazine.
Some experiences alter the mind faster and more strongly than others. "Drugs" legal or otherwise, do so, but generally in short term. Discussion of such isn't as interesting as say, the effect human interaction has on the mind. It's longer lasting and more powerful, though no substances are ingested, nobody has to be arrested (yet) and the youth of the nation may rest easy. All writers are concerned with social interactions of varying shapes and sizes, and as such are essentially obsessed with mind altering experiences. This would seem a reasonable cause for many writers to also be obsessed with mind altering substances. You work out what makes you feel X, you can write about it in Y. People say the best way to write is to write about what you know. Of course, this doesn't mean crime writers have to go out and murder someone's family to write a good book, but if they understand the social workings and power games and emotions involved, then they'll probably come out with something pretty good. Now, you don't need to understand chemically what's happening, that certain "feel good" chemicals are naturally released in the brain when you kiss someone you think you love... but you could argue that the naturally produced stuff is better than the synthetic stuff. Higher purity, etc. It can be just as addictive, and we want to feel that feeling again and again, so we chase the high, forgetting that it's never going to be the same high we had before. This disappointment leads us to try other methods and eventually we're drunk and desperate and we're beginning to realise we're missing our shot at happiness because we're reaching too far and splitting ourselves in half. We're on the wrong drugs people and we don't even realise.
Some experiences alter the mind faster and more strongly than others. "Drugs" legal or otherwise, do so, but generally in short term. Discussion of such isn't as interesting as say, the effect human interaction has on the mind. It's longer lasting and more powerful, though no substances are ingested, nobody has to be arrested (yet) and the youth of the nation may rest easy. All writers are concerned with social interactions of varying shapes and sizes, and as such are essentially obsessed with mind altering experiences. This would seem a reasonable cause for many writers to also be obsessed with mind altering substances. You work out what makes you feel X, you can write about it in Y. People say the best way to write is to write about what you know. Of course, this doesn't mean crime writers have to go out and murder someone's family to write a good book, but if they understand the social workings and power games and emotions involved, then they'll probably come out with something pretty good. Now, you don't need to understand chemically what's happening, that certain "feel good" chemicals are naturally released in the brain when you kiss someone you think you love... but you could argue that the naturally produced stuff is better than the synthetic stuff. Higher purity, etc. It can be just as addictive, and we want to feel that feeling again and again, so we chase the high, forgetting that it's never going to be the same high we had before. This disappointment leads us to try other methods and eventually we're drunk and desperate and we're beginning to realise we're missing our shot at happiness because we're reaching too far and splitting ourselves in half. We're on the wrong drugs people and we don't even realise.
Monday, 2 May 2011
Interview - Stage Six
"Chief, we've found a body at the flat..."
"Excellent. Couldn't have come at a better time," he thought. Time to finally put a wrap on it, deliver his man to the Superintendent. An opportunity to clear the lingering grey from the sky.
The drive to the flat was quick, but brutal. The Detective Chief Inspector would have preferred a route without speed bumps, but murder investigations are not to be conducted slowly. Initial reports were conflicting. A vicious attack, ruthless. Clean. Vicious seemed to suggest sloppy, animal rage that couldn't be suppressed long enough to ensure a clean kill. A clean kill is harder to work with. Obviously that was a matter for the forensic team, but anything that makes life easier is a bonus.
Upon arrival, the Detective Chief Inspector was keen to see the body. After doing so, he left the room.
"Everything alright Chief?"
"No. Not at all."
"Too clean? Not enough to go on?"
"There's fuck all to go on. It's the wrong fucking body..."
"Chief?"
"Never trust a man who's supposed to be dead..."
"What?"
"Nothing... never mind constable. We're finished here."
"Excellent. Couldn't have come at a better time," he thought. Time to finally put a wrap on it, deliver his man to the Superintendent. An opportunity to clear the lingering grey from the sky.
The drive to the flat was quick, but brutal. The Detective Chief Inspector would have preferred a route without speed bumps, but murder investigations are not to be conducted slowly. Initial reports were conflicting. A vicious attack, ruthless. Clean. Vicious seemed to suggest sloppy, animal rage that couldn't be suppressed long enough to ensure a clean kill. A clean kill is harder to work with. Obviously that was a matter for the forensic team, but anything that makes life easier is a bonus.
Upon arrival, the Detective Chief Inspector was keen to see the body. After doing so, he left the room.
"Everything alright Chief?"
"No. Not at all."
"Too clean? Not enough to go on?"
"There's fuck all to go on. It's the wrong fucking body..."
"Chief?"
"Never trust a man who's supposed to be dead..."
"What?"
"Nothing... never mind constable. We're finished here."
Sunday, 1 May 2011
Interview - Stage Five
Waiting for instructions is tedious. He counted and recounted cigarettes, smoked and unsmoked, as tar crawled through his blood. He remembered an earlier conversation:
"This will kill you eventually..."
Yeah, right. Another blast of grey. It began to descend as the letters fell. Bills and a package, which was postmarked Europe. A small snag of barbed wire and a handwritten note.
"Turn yourself in."
Hardly what he'd expected. He picked up the barbed wire. It had been sharpened, enough to draw blood. Before he went to get a plaster he took a few of the foam peanuts they used for packing and impaled them one by one.
"This isn't over, but it will kill you eventually..."
It was just as grey outside. A grey world waiting for a little colour. In another life, perhaps he'd have been a painter.
"This will kill you eventually..."
Yeah, right. Another blast of grey. It began to descend as the letters fell. Bills and a package, which was postmarked Europe. A small snag of barbed wire and a handwritten note.
"Turn yourself in."
Hardly what he'd expected. He picked up the barbed wire. It had been sharpened, enough to draw blood. Before he went to get a plaster he took a few of the foam peanuts they used for packing and impaled them one by one.
"This isn't over, but it will kill you eventually..."
It was just as grey outside. A grey world waiting for a little colour. In another life, perhaps he'd have been a painter.
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