Slumdiver

Slumdiver

“Alright Mr, Leon Jones.” The officer finally speaks up after setting up all the equipment on the table and fiddling with his tablet. The second younger officer leaned against the wall next to the door observing me.

“This is a straightforward process where you just have to explain your involvement in this case, and how everything came about. Understood?” On the last word, he looks up, and finally meets my eyes. “Yep, I Understand” I reply.

Well first of all I have to explain my job, I work as a D.A.R.I. employee or “Decaying Algae Removal and Incinerator” employee, but most people know us as Slumdivers; because of our uniform and where we mostly find our work. I am sure that everyone understands the properties of the ever-growing importance of this organism colloquially known as “Algae,” but I should explain the functions that are important in this case.

Ever since however many years ago when this microorganism was discovered on another planet, it has completely shifted the medical world for the better. Now giving people, the chance to grow limbs back, cure long term diseases, and even in extreme cases, cure aging altogether. It does this by binding with living tissue, copying the DNA, and replicating as if it was apart of the human body naturally. This “Algae” is akin to a parasite or virus but does not attempt to harm the individual and does not spread to others as it keeps to the specific DNA type. An extremely symbiotic organism to say the least. Of course, everyone knows this already.

All in all, this is in my opinion one of the most groundbreaking thing humans have discovered, but of course such a thing from a different planet has found its place in the economy. Let’s just say it’s not cheap. Not too expensive that no one can get it, but expensive enough that only extreme cases warrant it for the general populace. I don’t recall how much this Algae can be given in hospitals, I never studied it, I just know how it works in a practical sense, if you get me?

The officer gives no hint of response, so I just keep going.

This Algae appears for most people like a perfect solution for human ailments. While it isn’t fast acting and only the wealthy can use it to its full extent, people still understand why it is groundbreaking. There are two downsides to the Algae though, one of which is relevant to my profession. Firstly, the Algae creates new tissue, just the same as normal skin, muscle, or even bone, but the colour of which is always green or teal. Not very important to most people. Secondly, the process of which Algae decays is not like typical tissue, it does not follow rigor mortis or the standard form or decay for whole natural bodies. Instead, it transforms into a sort of black “Mold” that Consumes the rest of the body and greatly expands to fill the volume of wherever it is. It is harmful to inhale and can cause damage to building structures if left unimpeded.

My job responsibilities begin by my employer; the government sanitation, being contacted of a discovered body and where it is located. I am then sent to collect samples and incinerate all remains at the scene. Most of my work is done following forensic investigations and I am commonly around police officers such as yourself.

When I motion towards the officer opposite me, he does a slow intentional blink and types something into his tablet. When I think of what to say next, I feel the pain in my arm again and quickly try to keep talking to distract myself.

So, em, I essentially go to a crime scene, collect samples of Algae, incinerate the body and move on to the next body. It’s not pretty work, but it’s a job, and I’ve been doing it long enough that it doesn’t bother me.

Now that you understand, I can explain what happened. It began last Tuesday, which all in all seemed like a normal day, nothing special about it.

I close my eyes and attempt to visualize my surroundings that day.

I don’t remember the address, but it was in a typical low run housing sector in the south side of the city. I was late because I couldn’t find my wallet. I drove to the location without my wallet but luckily, I keep my work I.D. on a lanyard.

“Keep it to only what is pertinent to the case” the officer chimes in.

“Surprisingly, this part is actually relevant, but anyway” I continue.

I walk up to the porch of the house and see an officer standing at the door in front of the police tape. I don’t remember his name, I think it was Joe or something, but I got his signature down to get to work on the body and I retrieved my equipment from the boot of my car.

I got suited up in my allotted black Biohazard uniform with the mask and goggles. I entered the house and immediately came up on the body. The forensics team had already finished up and it was just me in the room. To be frank it’s not a pretty sight, some lady on the ground face up in normal business clothes. Her face had been completely taken over by the growth of mold and from what I can surmise, she most likely killed herself by shooting herself in the head and the Algae which mainly covered her shoulder had exploded out of the bullet entrance and exit hole. It must have been a couple of days for the body to be found by the growth that had occurred already.

This is typical unfortunately, and I didn’t notice anything unusual about it yet.

I uncurled the industrial precise suction device or hoover as I call it and began to collect the outer strands of the mold that were poking into the air. It is a light and fuzzy material, not pleasant but it gets sucked in easily.

As I was removing the mold I saw something. A leathery square was revealed right over where her face would have been. I picked it up and put aside my hoover. I opened it and low and behold my own face was staring back at me.

“Ohhh, I get it, it was your wallet.” The younger officer interjects. “exactly” I respond.

Now I don’t know how long I didn’t have my wallet and I could not remember when or even how it was stolen or If I had dropped it somewhere, but to be honest this shook me. All my cards were still there, it was just as it was before. I looked back at the door to see if the officer saw me. He didn’t. I know now that I should have told someone of this, but it was my wallet, and I didn’t know what to think, how it got there or why it was on a victim’s face? The woman clearly didn’t put it there as you can’t shoot yourself and put a wallet perfectly on your face for mold to grow around. Someone had to put it there in between her death and the Mold growing.

“You didn’t inform any officer or anyone that you found evidence on a corpse?” the officer says over his tablet, staring into my soul.

“I, I, I didn’t know what to think, this was bizarre and weird, but I didn’t immediately jump to something dangerous.” I stammer out. “So no, I just pocketed it and moved on”.

I wasn’t stealing a random wallet, it was my own money, and dealing with getting new cards and stuff would have been a pain, in some way I was relieved that I had found it at all.

I took out my Incinerator, which if you don’t know it is a small orb on a tripod that you face toward the body, set the timer and degree of incineration, in this case, because we were inside and in a modern non flammable building, it was set to incinerate the entire room for about five minutes. I lifted it up, saw my name and return address printed on it and I set the delay to thirty seconds and walked outside.

When I’m outside I take the samples in their bags, seal them and put them away. I then took off the top of my suit and smoked with the officer for the five minutes. I just had a casual conversation trying to not spook myself about how my wallet ended up here.

Once the timer was done, I went into the room and retrieved my incinerator. I then drove to the next scene and went on with the rest of the day as normal.

“You didn’t question the fact that you found your lost property at a crime scene” The officer states to me with a disappointed head rub to add to the effect. “It wasn’t technically a crime scene anymore once I get there, the forensics had missed it and while I did question how it managed to get there, I found no reason to tell anyone.”

He types into his tablet and checks his watch before looking at me again. I continue.

The next few days were ordinary.

Last Saturday I was going to a high-end district in the north of the city, which is rarer for my type of work. For a rich person to not be discovered when they die, isn’t irregular but it’s not like they die in the street or can’t pay for security systems that would detect whether they were dead.

First thing I noticed was that it was a giant apartment, huge open floor house overlooking the entire city. Second thing I noticed was the lack of police officers, there was one at the door and he, well, looked like some kid put in a uniform. He was young for an officer in my opinion. The fact he didn’t know that he had to sign for me to enter, was enough to tell me he was inexperienced.

Besides that, I entered and got to work. Found the body. It was a giant cloud of fluffy mold exploding outwards. It must have been a week or more before this person got discovered. Furthermore, when richer folk get full Algae replacement procedures, any identifying features when they die are presumed null of information as they would be consumed by the Mold and left unrecognizable as a human. They were most likely green head to toe when they were alive. They could be one hundred and fifty years old if they got to the procedure early.

Since the entirety of their body was consumed by the Algae, there was nothing, but Mold left, no skeleton, face, teeth, nothing.

I got to work removing the outermost layer of mold with my hoover. I had to use several bags and it took a few hours to accomplish. My hoover is designed for precise extraction, so this immense mass was atypical. You have to, sort of feel, for when to use the incinerator, remove the light airy section until it is dense enough for the incinerator to function without aerosolizing the particles too heavily.

Once I got to that point I noticed burns marks under the mass. I set down the incinerator but took a loot closer at the burn marks. I realized that a layer had peculiar burnt engravings, so I used the hoover to remove the next top layer so I could see it.

The burn marks were probably made with a chefs blow torch or just a tight short flame on the mold. It was obvious what I was revealing. A sentence written into the mold next to the densest section, which is probably where the body of the person used to be. I don’t know how this person died, I don’t have access to that information, but the person who burned into the mold, was probably there just a day or two after they died, as the mold spread to the surface of the floor and then more layers grew from it upwards, covering the burn marks.

The burn marks wrote a sentence. “Leon, incinerate this body and go to 7^th Floor, Haywood Apartments, Room 6.”

“My reaction, of course, was confusion. I imagine you know why I was confused?” I ask the officer.

He checks his tablet quickly “because that’s in the same building you live in.” The young officers head piques up at that info.

It was a floor above mine, one door to the left.

I turned the incinerator on and waited outside with the officer.

“Did you inform him of the message you had discovered?”

“I didn’t.” I respond.

He types something into his tablet. “I doubt I need to explain why that is illegal, let’s just keep this going promptly.” He says flatly with little emotion.

In my line of work, you become friends with the police officers and sometimes, even the forensic workers if you show up early to a job. I couldn’t fathom that they had made such a blunder of missing the message themselves, so I assumed it was some elaborate prank or some invitation that I just didn’t understand yet. The message essentially just told me to do what I normally do and go home.

“Did you not infer that the job of forensics is to work on decaying bodies, and your job is to collect samples of Mold? In cases where there is no human body left or present, would the assumption not be that forensic teams are wasted in that scenario?” the officer retorts.

I don’t respond, he was right. It was stupid of me to think like that. My curiosity was simply intrigued, and I acted like a moron. I feel a tinge of pain in my arm.

“let’s continue” he says.

Ok. I collected my incinerator, and the Mold was completely removed. No hint of the message remained.

The officer types into his tablet.

I left the scene and drove back to my apartment building. I first went to my place and put down all my equipment. I put on my normal clothes, put a jacket on, and went out to the address one floor up. The place was identical to every other house in the building, a large industrial metal door surrounded by concrete.

I pressed the monitor on the wall next to the door to ring the bell. No one responded.

I pressed again. No response.

I try the open button and to my surprise, it is intentionally left unlocked. The door splits open.

The first thing I see is a film, an opaque thick plastic hung in front of the door. A small zipper was at the bottom and made a half circle in the plastic wall. I unzipped it and walked in. Immediately a smell hit me, not of Mold, but of a sour burnt smoky smell. I looked around the room and all the walls were covered in this plastic. On the floor in the centre of the room was a black mass with a pool of liquid leaking out under it.

I heard a noise behind me, turned around and saw something going to hit me. I immediately raised my hand and stumbled back. I couldn’t see who was there and as I was retreating back I slipped on the liquid and fell on my rear. Then the man swung something at me and hit the side of my head hard. I blacked out at the impact.

Next thing I know, I’m waking up. I can’t breathe and squirm up and open my eyes, when a hand disappears off of my nose and I can breathe. I tried to take a sharp inhale but feel the tape against my mouth. my wrists and ankles were tied down to a metal chair. I’m facing toward the black mass in the centre of the room. I feel a pressure at the back of my head, both pain from the hit and a small pressing tube at the back of my skull.

As should be expected, I started freaking out, struggling and shaking against the tape on my arms and legs. The man behind me grabbed my shoulders and screamed into my ear to “Stop Moving!”

The man circled around me and came into my vision. He stood in front of me. He was bald, the skin on his face was green and his entire torso was disfigured

with saggy skin, like a badly healed burn survivor. His face was the only part of his skin that was visible and not disfigured.

He stared into my eyes and held a long dark metal gun in his left hand. He began to speak frantically.

“Do you see my daughter behind me? Look at what you did to her.” He moves aside and motions to the black mass on the floor. The realisation hits me that it is the half-incinerated body of someone. The situation suddenly made sense.

I have to bring some context in to clear this up. About six months ago I was doing a normal job in an alleyway down somewhere in the slums. I don’t remember what happened, but I presume a robbery or something. I set the incinerator up and informed the officers to warden people away for five minutes. It was late so I didn’t expect anyone to try and go through anyway.

Suddenly a crazed man barged through the officer at the other end of the alley and charged at my incinerator. It is a concentrated flame and definitely burnt him. He managed to grab the incinerator and turned it off. The officers chased after him and I was sent away.

I never got to finish that job and never recovered the equipment either. Never heard about what happened to the guy either. Though I guess it’s pretty clear now what happened. He’s been obsessing over this for a while and now has essentially kidnapped me.

“LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID!” He barks into my face.

I stare at the black charred shape on the floor, it’s not human shaped anymore and it really reeks in the humid room.

“She was only twenty years old, murdered for a scrap of cash and left on the street. I can believe that. That happens every day. But for some reason because she cut her arm badly when she was seven and got algae to heal it, I will never even get to see her face again. You had to take everything of her away. Look at what you left me.” He grabs the chair and drags me over to the corpse.

He fiddles with something at his neck, pulls off a necklace with a wooden carved figure in a cross shape.

“I never got a funeral, a chance to let go. To send her away. YOU TOOK THAT FROM ME!” He whips the pistol into my chest, and I heave through my nose trying to cough through the tape on my lips.

He leans forward, face to face.

“I will give you the same fate you gave my dear Ana.” He walks behind me and then returns with something in his hand. My old incinerator. That explains how he knew who I was and where I lived. He puts it on the floor and fiddles with the buttons to set the time. It’s clear he doesn’t know how to use it. He sets the degree to target for incineration quite high up, facing my chest and head. If he had set it to incinerate the room, I would be dead right now.

He turns on the timer, and the thirty second delay begins to tick down. He stands behind it, then walks over it and holds the barrel of the gun up his nostrils. He lunges forward and fires. The sound blares in the tiny room and his body collapses on top of me. His blood and green skin falling onto my shoulder.

Full panic mode sets in. Screaming. Shaking. Rustling for anything. I can’t move the chair, but his body begins to shift when I grab his waistband with the tips of my fingers. Can’t be more than ten seconds left. I yank him one way, his body sways and I twist my neck to catch his head on my shoulder. The weight of his body falls and drags me with it to the floor.

He hits the floor first, but the chair hits off his body and slides back into the range of the incinerator. Luckily, he set the degree too high, but my arm was still taped down and in the range.

The incinerator started and the flames shot out. My arm was sent into immediate agony. The worst pain I have ever felt. I could hear the blood under my skin boiling up out of my arm. The tape burns off after maybe twenty seconds of this and I collapse off that side of the chair onto the floor.

I think I just closed my eyes from the bright flare of it and waited the five minutes. I don’t know how long I was there or if I passed out again. Eventually I got up and slowly used my burnt hand to pull my other hand free. It must have taken like twenty minutes to do it because it hurt so badly. Once my good hand was loose, I freed my legs and crawled away from his body.

“Then, I used the tablet on the inside of the door to call for help. The rest, I am sure you have documented.” I say dejected.

I look at the cast on my arm, the pain reminiscing in my head. I see a small vein going up my arm, tinged in green. The algae used to heal my skin spreading and growing.

Both officers follow my gaze to my arm, and I almost embarrassingly move my arm to under the table.

The officer types something into his tablet and looks up.

“Is that everything?” He says.

“Do you know who it was that tried to kill me, and what happened to them?” I reply.

He swipes his finger over the screen. “A Mark Hammond and his daughter Ana Hammond, both were incinerated the same day you were taken to the hospital.”

I look down at the table.

“are you finished explaining what happened?” He asks, clearly needing a response to finish up.

“Yes.” I respond.

“Against your flagrant disregard for the law that is meant to protect you from situations such as this, you remain the victim and it will be decided later to whether you are to be charged with anything. If you receive any message to come into court or back to this precinct, be quick to respond and follow what is says to do. Other than that, we can end this here.” With that he turns off his tablet and a couple red light around the room turn off. He stands up and leaves the room without another word, walking past the younger officer.

“How’s it feel?” the young officer says.

“What?”

“You’re arm?” he points.

“I don’t know, I can’t tell if it hurts or if I’m just remembering the pain.” I try to explain it but it is tough to describe.

“It’s a hell of a thing that Algae, ain’t it. You’ll be right as rain soon enough, probably.”

I look at my arm again.

“Now someday, if I die, one of my colleagues will come and incinerate me.” I say without thinking.

“Does it matter, you’ll be dead. Won’t have to worry about it, would you rather have to suffer the pain of healing normally.” He says casually.

“Probably not, but maybe when I’m dying, I’ll feel very different, maybe I’ll want to leave something, even if it is just my rotting corpse, at least it will be me.”

The young officer doesn’t respond just looks down in thought. I stand up and walk out the door.

“Hey Mr Jones!” I hear behind me.

The young officer is standing up, holding onto the door frame leaning forward.

“It’s not like you know how you are going to die. Nothing says you have to live life obsessed with death.”

“Nothing but my job.”