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How to Kill a Byrd

By: MysteryWriter



"So you want to be a cop?" The middle-aged women in the police captain's uniform asked.

"Yes, very much," I answered with as much conviction as I could muster. I studied the Captain as she paused to decide on her next statement. She was a heavy set woman with a too large nose. It was red and covered with broken veins. The nose made her look as though she might be a heavy drinker.

"I don't know what the bureau will say about that. You know how they want to protect you guys at all cost. They might not like the idea of you out patrolling the streets," she finally commented.

"You know better than anyone how little violent crime there is in Greenpoint." I suggested. Hoping I could find the words to convince her to at least give me an opportunity.

"I know, but I doubt seriously anyone will pay any attention to a small town cop's opinion. Those women up there can get pretty hysterical when it comes to your kind," she informed me.

"I know, but they did turn me loose. The government has said I can do anything I want. They even gave me the right to sue for that chance. Besides, I have to do something, and this is what I want to do," I explained, trying to threaten and still maintain my composure.

The Captain seemed to be weighing all her options before she went on. "You know it's going to be hard on you. I mean, you will be the only man on the force," the Captain informed me of the obvious.

"I know, but we have to start coming back somewhere. I mean, the women will just have to accept us," I replied firmly. I tried to make her understand that I was determined to have this job, no matter what the cost.

"I don't know, there isn't even anyone left on the force who remembers the last time we had a man in uniform. There haven't been any men any where in the last twenty years," the Captain said thoughtfully.

"There are going to be lots more of us leaving the institute from now on," I informed her.

"Not really, after your batch, it will be fifteen more years before the others start coming out," the Captain stated confidently. At least she seemed to be familiar with the facts.

"I know, but you won't be able to stop the flood, once it begins," I informed her. "When this next batch comes out, it will be a steady stream from then on.

"Tell you what," she said, "Let me call the agency, if they approve, I will go along." The Captain didn't look happy about it.

"Thank you Captain," I said as I stood to shake her hand.

"You may want to wait on the thanks. At least until you see how the others treat you," she said. "You do have one thing going for you, at least you won't have to go through rookie school with them. Fortunately for all of us the institute took care of all that. You are a damned sight better trained than our usual rookie."

"How soon do you think I will know?" I asked excitedly.

"I'll make the request this afternoon. We should hear something in a day or two," the Captain explained in a deadpan voice.

"Thanks again," I said as I turned for the door.

The trolley ride home was a nightmare. I was surrounded by women who looked at me either like a freak, or with open hostility. I could feel both the anger and the curiosity in their eyes. I searched their faces, trying to find just one friendly expression. There simply were none. The women all seemed to be telling me with their eyes, that I was not welcome to their society. I suppose it was because I was the symbol of the changes coming. There attitudes were so obviously threatening that I swore I would stop riding the trolleys just as soon as humanly possible.

I returned to my small apartment to await the Captain's decision. I knew it wouldn't really be her decision to make. The Government had trained me for this job. They wanted all the orphans to get good jobs on the outside. I was pretty sure they didn't have high level management jobs in mind. Just jobs good enough for us to earn a decent living. As far as the agency went, I would have their permission in a matter of hours. If there were going to be a problem, it would be with the local police department. Even if that were the case, the government had promised to help. I really hoped that wouldn't become necessary.

For the next two days, I sat around my stifling apartment over the small independent drugstore. It was hot, but I dared not leave. I tried to watch the TV, but the shows were too phony for me to get enjoy. Thanks to the world of digital TV there were men in the shows, but they were mostly the heavies. At the institute they tried to explain that the stereotyping wasn't intentional. I always thought their arguments amounted to just so much bull. I expected the shows were made less for entertainment, than to convince the women that they didn't need men. For sure that had been the purpose twenty-one years ago, now it just made for good TV drama. If you were a woman, there had to be something comforting about being able to whip any man's ass. I understood that it had been expedient twenty years ago. Now that we were reemerging into society, I feared all this crap was going to add to our assimilation problems. I actually feared there might be massive discrimination created by all the TV crap. The Captain had pretty much insinuated there would be a certain amount of friction between me and the women. How could they trust a man after seeing us constantly portrayed as idiots or criminals. I expected the worst.

The general population followed a radically different distribution pattern than the orphans. There were plenty of women over twenty one, but none between the ages of eight and twenty-one. The eight and under set had been born from artificial insemination. I have no idea how many children I had fathered, but there had to be plenty of them running around. I, like every other orphan, had donated sperm from our twelfth birthday, until leaving the institute. In my case it had been up until a couple of weeks ago. I was in the last batch to leave our particular orphanage. I knew for a fact there would be no more releases until the sons, of men like me, reached twenty one. The orphanages would be closed one day. That would happen only when the population had recovered from the devastating effects of the plague. 

As a matter of fact, I had volunteered to continue donating once a week as long as the state of emergency existed. With the new orphans populations increasing rapidly, there might soon be no need for me to donate at all. In just a few more years they would be producing sperm. At a rate of four to six pregnancies per donation, odds were that the population would stabilize in a couple of generations.

The call came a couple of days later. I was surprised to find that I had been accepted. I was informed I would begin work with the next rotation of the D squad. The patrol division of the cops was divided into four different squads. Three working different, and rotating shifts at any given time. The fourth shift, would be taking it's days off, while the other three squads worked.

I had exactly two days to be fitted for a uniform. I went to be sworn in on the third day after my visit with the Captain. The gun belts and other gear fit just fine. The stores officer even managed to find me some slacks which weren't too bad a fit. The problem came with the uniform shirts. All the shirts had pleats, obviously designed for women. Without breasts to fill the pleats, the shirts bagged terribly. The stores officer gave me the name of a retail store, where the officers with flat chests bought their shirts. She informed me the store sold shirts without pleats. 

I went immediately to the store carrying a handful of patches with me. As the officer had promised, the woman who owned the store had the shirts. She even agreed to have the patches sewn on for me. I had expected that she would, for an extra charge. I bought three shirts, it was the same number which had been issued to me.

"You know," the store's owner commented, "I am forty two years old, and you are the first man I have seen in twenty years."

I assessed her while she paused to collect her thoughts. She was mildly attractive but definitely too old for me. "I don't suppose you would be interested in breeding me?" she asked boldly.

"I'm sorry, I don't do that. There are a few of my friends who's ambition it was to be professional breeders. I don't know how to get in touch with them, but I'm sure they will be hanging out at the bars," I informed her.

"Oh no, I don't want a pro. I would rather have someone who does it for fun. Paying for it, just doesn't seem the same somehow," she admitted.

"Would you answer a question for me?" I asked.

"If I can," she agreed.

"You grew up in the pre-plague world. What was it like to have men around?" I asked.

"It was damned sight different, that much I do remember. I can remember making love with a man, while trying not to have a baby. Now they tell us, any kind of birth control is illegal. I seriously doubt they needed to make it illegal. Most of the women I know would love to have a baby. At least a girl baby," she said with a far away look in her eyes.

"Do all women hate men that much?" I asked.

"Not at all, it's just that the government takes the male children to the institute. Nobody wants to have their child taken away." she said with finality in her voice. She grew quiet for a long time then said, "your shirts will be ready tomorrow."

I nodded as I turned to leave. I caught the trolley back to my little apartment. About the only women who had real cars were the cops, and the executives. Probably ninety percent of the population rode the trolleys. The cops needed cars, and the rich could afford them, so naturally they were the ones with the cars. Even though cars were expensive, and inconvenient in the town, there were enough rich women to keep the streets congested. I had been told, the traffic ticket most often issued, was for failing to yield right of way to the trolleys. 

When I arrived home, I realized I had only two more days to get the old Byrd running again. The Byrd was an automobile of sorts. I had read enough history to know that by pre-plague standards, it was no more than a bad joke. A woman in Denver had designed the small electric motor for the Byrd. The body was a lightweight fiberglass affair. The Byrd resembled a covered golf cart more than anything else. The Byrd was popular with women who lived just outside of the towns. It provided a means for them to get into town. 'For work or play, the Byrd's the way' so went their advertising.

The only good thing about the electric motors, was that they seldom really broke down. Most of the time, a new set of brushes was enough to make them operable again. I had replaced both the brushes and the armature. The motor was almost completely new. Even though it had taken a couple of days, it had been worth it. The next problem, and probably the worst, was finding batteries for the Byrd. The parts store sold new batteries, and even a few rebuilt ones. The cost of the batteries was unbelievably expensive. Even the rebuilt ones would run a month's salary for a rookie cop. 

The best I had been able to do was go to the battery recycling yard. There with my test meter, I checked probably a couple of hundred batteries. It wasn't hard to do, but it was time consuming. I hoped to find a set some uninformed woman had traded. With a little luck, I would find a whole set which had been traded at the same time. In the set of ten batteries, usually only two or three burnt out at any given time. The good ones were mixed with the batteries from the parts stores. At a parts store, women tended to trade in only the individual worn out battery. The clerks usually checked the batteries for a customer, so she generally knew which ones had gone bad. Those customers would buy only one or two batteries at a time. Consequently most of the batteries I tested were worn out.

Over the last week, I had found a couple each day. On that last day. I completed my full set of ten. I had a really good day and came up with a couple of spares. During my searches the woman who owned the recycling plant cut me a deal on the price. She offered to give them to me in exchange for a quick breeding, but I resisted. Once the new, old batteries were installed, I gave them a quick charge. I charged them just enough to test the car. I was a little surprised that it ran at all. I had felt confident in my ability to repair the car, but I was still surprised.

I set the Byrd up for a deep charge while I returned to the retail store for my shirts. The trolley system was efficient, but time consuming. Not so much in the speed that it traveled, as in all the stops it made. It took me two hours to pick up the shirts from the store which was no more than five miles from my apartment. Even with the Byrd's top end speed of twenty-five miles an hour, I would have cut that time to half an hour.

Almost all the restaurants in town were on the trolley route, so I stopped for an early dinner before returning to the apartment. The restaurant was supposed to be replica of a 1950's type drive-in restaurant. I had some serious doubts about the menu. With women running the world, there was very little beef on the menu. The women seemed to have switched to mostly chicken and fish. From what I had read of the pre-plague days, beef dominated the menus. I knew I would have been more at home in those earlier days. Maybe it was a genetic thing with men, but I loved beef. I ordered the very expensive hamburger sandwich. Even though the cost was twice that of a chicken burger, the burger was worth every penny of it. After dinner, I caught the next trolley home. I noticed again the strange looks on the faces of the women. I wasn't all that bothered anymore. I was, after all, a cop.

That particular evening was especially slow to pass. I tried the TV, but as usual I quickly became bored with it. I knew it had a lot to do with the way it showed men, still it lacked a certain amount of realism. Instead of TV, I read one the books I had purchased at the used book store. I usually stayed with the pre-plague era books, however that night I chose a mystery novel from the best seller list from the year before. 

I have to admit, the book had a certain charm. That is, it would have if I had been a women. I read current books on occasion. I did it to get some idea about how modern women saw themselves. The books were very enlightening, even though I didn't really believe them. I guessed that women had lost their second class citizen mentality rather quickly. Especially when there were no men left to subtly dominate them. The book I read that night failed to address that kind of question. It was about a female detective and her bumbling male sidekick. From having read pre-plague books, I knew that thirty years before, the roles in the book would have been reversed. There were new stereotypes to replace the old stereotypes.

I had been led to believe that those new stereotypes would now be applied to me. I was going to be seen as that bumbling sidekick for a long time. At least as long as the numerical balance was so one sided. The population experts, who by the way were all women, predicted it would take a hundred years for the numbers to balance out. According to them, the world's population would take one more drastic drop when the pre-plague era women all died. After that it should begin to rebound. At least in the United States. In other countries it might never rebound. Our Government had been more farsighted than most others. 

My generation consisted of only those children who were in the womb prior to the plague. Not a single person on the planet had gotten pregnant from the time of the plague, until twelve to fourteen years later. That happened only because the orphans began producing sperm. Therefore most of the women I came into contact with were older than me. There just were no women under twenty-one years old. There were little girls, but no young women in the population at that time.

All of the mature women had been convinced I was good for only one thing. I knew it was going to be an uphill battle to convince them otherwise. Even the women my age pretty much had been brain washed into believing men were inept, spoilers of the world. We were somehow blamed for the plague. 

Before the plague, men had been the driving force in the world. I expected it would be the same again one day. It probably wouldn't happen in my lifetime, but I was sure it would happen. I had no intention of leading the revolution, but I did want to begin laying the ground work for it. I knew that I was one of a small minority of men who chose not to become professional breeders. Life in the short run was going to be harder because of that choice.

My alarm clock woke me at five am. I showered, ate my cereal, then dressed by six. I took the trolley to work, since I didn't quite trust the Byrd. I sure as hell didn't want to be late on my first day. Fortunately my apartment was located only a short distance from the neighborhood police station. The early morning trolley ride took several minutes longer than it should have. The electric trolley stopped on almost every corner, whether anyone waited there or not. After I arrived, I waited outside the station for half an hour before reporting to duty.

While I waited, groups of women in uniform began to arrive. Some went directly inside, other stayed outside in the warm morning air. Those who remained outside, arranged themselves into small groups of two or three. I couldn't hear their conversations, but I expected I was the center of most discussions that morning. Surely the Sergeant had informed them of their new rookie's sex. I imagined there would be plenty of comments about me, or directed toward me in the future.The future came sooner than I would have liked. 

"Hey Orph," one of the women said loudly.

I turned toward a group of three women. I had no idea which one of them had spoken to me. "Just for the record, my name is Hank," I said with a smile. I could see no advantage in upsetting them on the first day. I also didn't intend to be called names.

"Well Hank," a particularly muscular red head said, "What are you doing here? Surely you could make more money as a breeder." The others joined her in laughter.

"That's true. The problem with being a professional breeder is, you can't choose who you breed," I said looking hard into her eyes. The other women, who were just standing around laughed. My would be tormentor didn't like that at all.

"Is that supposed to be some kind of insult?" She asked.

"I don't think so. I think it was an answer to your question, but if you want to take it as an insult, there isn't much I can do about it," I said bracing myself for her assault. It never came.

"Come on Hank, we have to go in for roll call," a slightly older blond said defusing the situation.

I followed her group of four women into the station. When we reached the room filled with school desks, the blond turned to me. "My name is Sherry, don't let Madge get you down. She just needs someone to pick on, she'll get over it," Sherry said with a warm though condescending smile.

"Thanks," I said, not really sure I liked her much either. I expected her to put one in my back any moment. It was a snap judgment, based on the paranoia instilled in me by the institute.

I knew better than to take a seat. I waited until all the others sat, then found a seat away from them all. I knew the drill, if I had taken a seat someone would have confronted me by saying it was her seat. As I moved from one seat to another, others would have joined in. It was just a harassment technique, one I had been warned to avoid.

The sergeant walked through the door, then went directly to the podium. "Ladies, today is going to be a foot patrol day in the downtown." she said brightly.


How to Kill a Byrd



"So what else is new," one of the officers said aloud.

"I'm glad you asked. Instead of the usual eight foot patrol officers, we are going to have twelve." There were moans from the assembled officers. "There will be six patrol cars taking care of the real police work, while twelve of you participate in community relations. Now here are the assignments," she said as she began reading off names. 

She never did get to me. I almost made the fatal mistake of calling attention to myself by asking. Instead I waited. At the end of the roll call, I approached her. "So Sergeant, what am I going to do all day?" I asked.

"You are going to ride with me. On the first day, all rookies ride with the Sergeant," she said without any visible expression. "I have things to do, so you just have a seat. I will be back for you in a while."

I took a desk on the front row as she walked from the room. I sat patiently for over an hour. I began to think she had forgotten me, but I knew better. She was doing this to remind me of my place. I stayed calm, even though I knew it was petty harassment. I did wish I had brought a book with me. The time dragged for yet another hour. The sergeant finally entered the room.

"Okay Hank, let's ride," she said.

I stood to follow her outside, without saying a word. Once we were in the parking lot, she slipped into a car twice the size of my Byrd. The Bear was not only larger, it was powered by a gasoline engine. The gasoline engines were designated for cops and those fortunate enough to be able to afford them. They carried a very heavy price tag, for both the car, and the gasoline. 

We were half way through the town before she spoke at all. Even then it was grudgingly. "Our sector of the city is the northwest quarter. To the south the border is Green Street. To the east it is Main Street. West and north it's the city limits signs." she said.

I nodded, not wanting to force the conversation. I had plenty of questions, but I would just be damned if I were going to be a mouthy rookie.

"The zone cars answer radio calls, during the day shift. We usually run twelve zone cars and eight foot patrols. Today is a little special, there is some kind of rally downtown so we are adding a few more patrol woman to the foot beats. Tomorrow you will be assigned a foot patrol beat," she informed me. "If you run into anything, just call on the radio. One of the zone cars will swing by to help you out. I am going to put you with another officer for a while, just until you get familiar with how we do things," the Sergeant informed me.

I nodded again.

"You do talk don't you?" she asked with a sarcastic smile.

"Yes ma'am I talk," was my only reply.

"Good, cops who don't talk, get hurt." she said shortly.

She looped through our zone of coverage several times. The conversation remained strictly business during the morning. We stopped for lunch at a cafe well off the trolley line. It was frequented by the women who worked in the factories around the small industrial neighborhood. As usual I was the center of attention. I could feel the hostility in the young women's stares. I ignored them as best I could. 

The food was good and the prices were extremely low. I expected the establishment gave cop discounts. I left a large tip on the table as we stood to leave. I noticed the sergeant gave me a rather unpleasant look when she noticed the bill resting beside the ashtray.

We were seated in the car when she spoke again. "You know, you don't have to tip the waitresses. They really don't expect it from cops," the Sergeant said.

"Sorry, I didn't know," I said.

"Don't worry about it. Just don't do it again," she said making it an order. The conversation took on an ominous pause. "This is a first for me, so I am going to just spit it out."

"I wish you would. I can tell there is something you have been wanting to say," I replied.

"Since you are the first man on the department, at least in twenty years, the Chief went back to reread the old regulations about men and women working together. She felt they were out of date, so she wrote a new set." The Sergeant handed me a typed sheet of paper. "Read that, if you have any questions, I will take them to the Captain." she informed me coldly.

The memo pretty much said I could pretty much breed with anyone I wanted off duty, anyone that is, except another cop. There were two things for which I would be fired instantly, breeding on duty, or breeding another cop anytime. I read the memo twice before I asked, "Do these same rules apply to all the cops or just me?" I asked.

"They will apply to all the male cops, if we get anymore after you," she answered shortly.

"So it's okay for two female cops to simulate breeding, but not for me to actually do it. Is that about what this says?" I asked.

"That's what the Chief says," the Sergeant informed me.

"Since I have no desire to breed a cop, I can live with it. You have to admit it seems a little extreme," I said.

"The Captain explained it to me. The Chief was afraid the officers would begin squabbling over you. I can't imagine why." the sergeant said with a grin.

"I have no idea what she might have been thinking," I said with the same grin as the sergeant. She didn't much like that.

The day ended at three. I went right from the Sergeant's patrol car to the trolley stop. I didn't even go inside the station.

When I arrived home, I plugged the tiny cop radio into the wall current to charge it's plastic battery. I then locked the pistol into the cabinet, on which I had installed a small hasp complete with padlock. With everything secured for the next day, I went to check on my Byrd. I noted with satisfaction that the 'low battery' warning light was out. At least I didn't have to worry about running out of power without warning. If the 'low battery' light had been inoperable it would have stayed lit, even with a full charge on the batteries.

I took the Byrd for a short spin around the town. I drove it almost an hour before the warning light began it's slow blinking. The blinking would increase until it was a solid light, at which time, I had better be within a few blocks of home, or a charging station. I vowed to never allowed it to reach the rapid blinking stage, let alone the solid light stage.

When I arrived home, I attached it in the slow charge mode, then went into the drugstore. I found the owner behind the pharmacy counter. She was busy with an older customer so I waited.

"Well hello Hank, how goes the cops?" she asked a few minutes later.

"Okay, I guess." I paused for a second, then went on. "I tested the Byrd and it runs fine. I just wanted to let you know that I hooked it to the charger again." I said.

"Then I guess I should add the thirty a month to the apartment rent?" she asked.

"I think it will keep running for a while, so sure add the charging fee to the rent. I am going to leave the first month's fee with Lucy," I suggested. Lucy was the cashier for the drugstore.

"Sure, just be sure to tell her what it is," The owner said. 

Before I walked to the front of the store, I took a moment to really look at the owner. She was a woman in her mid thirties and very attractive. She like most of the office workers and retail women had managed to remain feminine. A feat most of the cops, and a lot of the laboring workers had been unable to manage. That particular class had become more coarse. I guessed that was as fair a way to describe the difference as any. I do not mean to imply that some women had taken on men's characteristics, but the trappings of the new world required some kind of class distinctions.

For instance secretaries wore dresses, executives wore suits. Most of the suits had pants, not skirts. Women who roofed houses, wore jeans and tee shirts, but women who worked in retail stores wore skirts and blouses. The dress had more to do with their occupation than their sex. The new world might have been a sexless society, but it was far from a classless society. There were bars that catered to the executive class, bars for the middle class, and bars for the working class. In almost every way, society had maintained itself without much change from the pre-plague days. Sure there were only women, but the structure of the society hadn't really changed all that much. 

I have to admit, that during those long days in the institute, I had read an awful lot about the pre-plague days. Many of the things I found outside the institute had surprised me. For instance, a great deal of the women still wore makeup. It was hard to understand, since there were no men to impress. Most even wore bras, I know in most cases it was a comfort thing. The comfort did not explain why a woman would wear a wire framed bra. It certainly had nothing to do with impressing nonexistent men. I expected even in the old days it had been less about sexism, than the women's libbers of the seventies and eighties would have liked for women to believe. I expect even then their discomfort was more about self esteem, than men's domination of the society.

In any event, women tended to fall into two groups after the plague. Those who still maintained their looks, as though someone really cared, and those who did not. The ones who did not, seemed to fall mostly into the lower classes of the work force. Which included the cops as well as the construction workers types.

"Is there something else?" The owner asked with a smile.

"No, I was just lost in thought for a moment. I guess I better run," I said to cover my embarrassment. The owner simply nodded.

On the news that night, the lead story was about a breeder being beaten by an unhappy customer. It seems the breeder refused to defend himself. The woman got five years for the crime. When the story finished, the two women commentators began. "Well Mary, that seems like an awfully long time in jail. I mean the man was hardly injured at all. Just a couple of bruises," The blonde commentator said.

"I know, it does seem the judge was a little tough on the woman. I asked the Judge about it later. The Judge explained she had to send a message. Men are just too important to our survival, to allow them to be intentionally injured. She went on to explain, though she didn't approve of breeding for money, the men had to be protected, if we were going to survive as a race."

"Still, it does seem a little unfair," The blonde said.

"I know, but even the breeders are required to donate to the sperm bank. One donation can impregnate up to four women." Mary said dutifully.

"I guess, well on to more important things," the blonde said moving on to a story about schools.

"Life on the outside was certainly going to be interesting," I said aloud to the empty apartment. Dinner that night consisted of a microwave pizza. Only slightly better than the box which had held it. The communicator I had installed as a condition of my employment rang.

"Yes," I said simply.

"Ma'am, my name is Gina and I am calling to invite you to join our growing number of satisfied customers. My company is responsible for the lowering of your communicator rates. I would like to offer you the opportunity to receive our special rate on long distance service."

"I'm sorry Gina, I don't know anyone to call long distance, so I wouldn't be interested," I said.

"Thank you anyway ma'am," she said.

I certainly hoped being mistaken for a woman wasn't something likely to happen often. I supposed I could grow a mustache. I didn't suppose it would help much since some of the women had mustaches. Maybe a full beard, I thought. That would be all right, if I were a mechanic, but I didn't think the cops would allow it. I would just have to count on my body to distinguish me. There were some women as tall as my five feet eleven inches, but only a few were as tall and muscular as men.

Maybe it wouldn't be a problem, since men had been making the news almost daily since the first releases six months earlier. We may have been only a handful, but we seemed to have created quite a stir. Lately there seemed to be a man's face on the news every night. It was too bad that the last time had been the beating incident. I returned to my book for a couple of hours before the communicator rang again. 

"Yes," I said.

"I see you finally got a communicator," the warm female voice said. I recognized the voice and it immediate created a mind picture of the owner. A woman closing in on forty, with long hair the color of a mouse. Behind the thick glasses, were two startling green eyes. She was a trim woman without that sickly look some thin women have about them.

"Doctor Lewis, how very good to hear from you," I said honestly.

"I just called to see how the adjustment was coming," she admitted.

"I spent my first day as a cop today," I replied.

"So, was it all you had expected?" she asked.

"No, but I hope tomorrow will be better. They had me riding with the Sergeant today." I admitted.

"Don't worry, if things get too tough, you have the government on your side," she said.

"I certainly hope that won't be necessary," I replied.

"Me too," she said. "So how about we have lunch one day." 

The lunch invitation was her way of scheduling an appointment. She was subtle if nothing else. "Sure, but it will have to be after I finish the day tour," I replied.

"How about making it dinner then," she said. "Tomorrow would be really good for me."

"Okay, what time would you want to do it?" I asked.

"How about my place at six. I have never cooked for a man before," she said with a laugh.

"Sure," I agreed. I knew where she lived, since it was also her office. The same office where I had been counseled for the last six months. Prior to our release the government had begun pushing us out into society. I expect the idea was to familiarize us with the world outside our walls. Prior the last six months, Doctor Lewis had always come to the institute for my counseling sessions.

"Well, I will see you then," she said.

"Right, good-bye," I said as I returned the communicator to it's cradle.

I had delayed putting the communicator in, now I knew why. Two calls on the very first day it was in the house. It was really a bad sign. I really didn't have any desire to make friends or be bothered by people in general. Privacy was the one thing the institute lacked. There were either other orphans or matrons around continually.

I fell asleep that night reading in bed. I woke with a start at the sound of the alarm clock buzzing. It took me a moment to remember where I was. Then a moment longer to remember what I was supposed to do that day. I showered, then dressed quickly. I stood while I ate my cereal, and drank my coffee. I quickly washed the bowl, before I hurried down to the Byrd. The little car began moving without even a moment's hesitation.

I made it to the station with almost an hour to spare. I sat in the Byrd with my old paper back, reading about the pre-plague days. I watched as the patrol cars began returning from the night shift. The large, fast zone cars were mixed with an equal number of black Byrds. The Byrds, I knew were for patrolling the industrial areas. The slow quiet cars were ideal for slipping up on burglars. Women seemed to be into about all the crimes that men had perpetrated before the plague. They had even found a way to perpetrate rape on each other.

I stayed in my car until the day shift arrived, then followed the other cops into the station. I followed them inside, but I kept my distance. I arrived in the squad room, only after all of them were seated. I listened to the half whispered comments, as I took my seat in the rear. The giggles didn't stop until the Sergeant came into the room.

"Okay girls, today we are back to the regular beat schedule. The following officers will patrol the downtown on foot," she began reading off the names. When she finished she added, "Anders, today you will have the rookie with you." 

"Come on Sarge have a heart?" Anders begged.

"Anders this is not up for discussion. You are going to take Officer Bird with you, that is all there is to it." she said.

"You have all the luck," one of the other officers said with a giggle.

"Hey, Bird is one of us. I don't want to hear any more crap from any of you." the Sergeant said as she returned to reading the assignments.

Anders was a large woman, tall and thick. She was heavy boned and walked with a swagger that could have been mistaken as a challenge. She was also by far the most verbal of the women. After the meeting, I hung back waiting for her to approach. I was close enough to listen as she told her friends, "If this asshole can't cut it, I don't care if he is a man, I am going to kick his ass all over main street. I am not about to get my ass killed, just because he is afraid to hit a woman." 

Anders knew I overheard her, she obviously didn't care. I expected that it was her intent that I hear. When she finished her conversation, she turned to me. "Well Officer Bird, lets get to work." she said.

I nodded, then followed her out the door. We each picked up a citation book from the desk sergeant. We were standing on the steps of the station when she asked. "Do you have any idea how we are going to get to our beat?"

"None, I suppose the same way you got to it yesterday," I suggested.

"Exactly, how might that be?" she asked.

"Look Anders, if this is some kind of game don't bother, there are no other women around to impress. You sure as hell don't impress me." I said angrily.

She smiled for a moment, then asked, "You are a feisty little guy, aren't you?"

"Not at all, but I just don't intend to take your shit. You can and will talk about me behind my back, but you are not going to insult me to my face," I said.

"What are you going to do about it, cry to the Sergeant?" she asked.

"No, I am going to force you to kick my ass everyday until you stop doing it," I said with a grin.

It took her a moment to understand, but when she did, she laugh coarsely. "Okay Bird, we catch a ride with one of the zone cars. I usually like to ride with Lucy, but she has already gone. So let's go to the parking lot and catch a ride with the next cop leaving.

The next car was driven by a woman named Smittie. Smittie was in her late thirties and seemed to be curious about me. She stared but didn't speak. I waited for a rude remark, but none came.

When we began walking our beat I asked Anders, "Why do all the women over forty look at me so strangely?"

"No one told you?" Anders asked. After I shook my head she continued. "Most of us were too young to remember what the world was really like with men around. The women around forty were almost grown when the plague hit. They can remember their fathers, but more importantly some of them had boyfriends. Some of them and most of the women over fifty had been breed. Sometimes I hear them talk. Some thought it was great, and others say it was just so, so." she said with a smile.

"So seeing me reminds them of their loss?" I asked.

"Or their gaining of freedom," she said trying to make sure I understood, the plague had been both a tragedy and a blessing to women.

"I guess I can see that," I admitted.

"Good, then maybe we will get along after all," she said.

"So tell me this, why are we walking a foot beat?" I asked. "It can't be a very efficient way to patrol."

"Public relations, the downtown merchants like for us to show the uniform. They think it cuts down on the shoplifting and the robberies." she said.

"Does it?" I asked.

"I have no idea," she replied with a smile.

We walked around our six block area until lunch. During that time, I wrote a couple of tickets to drivers who had parked their cars in the trolley stop areas. It was the only thing I saw out of the ordinary. We stopped for lunch at a small deli. The food was really good, since the deli specialized in real beef and pork. I again noticed the price for our lunch was much lower than for the other diners. I also noticed that Anders left no tip. I dropped a dollar on the table, only when I was sure she couldn't see.




How to Kill a Byrd



We walked up and down the streets until two. A call came over the radio advising us that a fight was in progress in a pool hall on our beat. Anders took off at a dead run. I followed behind, trying not to pass her or fall behind. 

The owner was standing outside the pool hall door when we arrived. She spoke in rapid Spanish, as she pointed us into the building. Anders entered with me right behind. The first thing I noticed, even before the women fighting, was the cool darkness of the room. Even at two in the afternoon, the room was as dark as night, and cold as a morgue. That quick impression was quickly over ridden by the noise. Most of the customers cheered the four woman locked in, what seemed on first glance to have been mortal combat.

One woman held another in a headlock. The woman on top was hitting the women being held, squarely in the face. Anders grabbed the woman on top, then pulled her away from her bloody victim. The victim collapsed onto the floor.

I watched all of it from the corner of my eye, as I tried to separate the other two struggling women. When I had them apart, one of them took a good look at me. I watched as the recognition made it into her alcohol soaked brain.

"You're a man, I ain't gonna' let no stinkin' man arrest me." At that moment the fight got out of hand. Not only did I have her to deal with, but the second woman in the fight joined her. The first woman threw a drunken punch at me. I moved inside it quickly, then grabbed her by the throat. I forced her against the wall.

"Look out," Anders shouted to me.

I saw the second woman coming at me. I couldn't release the one I held against the wall, so I took her first blow on my shoulder. I managed to remove the tear gas sprayer from my belt before she struck me again. The stream of liquid tear gas hit her dead in the face. She stopped, shook her head, then slid to the floor. I quickly returned my attention to the struggling woman pinned against the wall. Since Anders had her hands full, I called for an ambulance and a zone car to transport the prisoners. The zone car arrived first. The additional officers helped us complete the arrest. We charged all the women with affray right on the scene. After things got under control, I asked the owner, "What started the fight.

"The one with the bloody nose made a pass at the one you gassed. The one you gassed must have been the girlfriend of the one who bloodied the nose of the one who made the pass. The two of them ganged up on the first woman, so one of the other customers joined in to even the odds. It was a hell of a fight," the owner said with a grin. It was easy to smile now that the mini war had ended.

"It's a good thing you called us when you did. Somebody might have gotten killed," Anders commented.

As Anders and the owner talked, I could feel the animosity of the crowd. At first I thought it was directed to me as a man. I listened closer to the comments and came to understand it was toward the cops in general. Not that I got away clean, there were plenty of comments about me in particular. If I had doubted it before, I knew at that moment. I was going to have a really hard time as a cop.

As Anders and I walked to the zone car she said, "Don't let that crap bother you. You did just fine in there."

"Thanks, you did pretty well yourself," I replied.

"Pretty well hell, I kicked that dyke's butt," she said with a grin. Even though the word dyke was never used at the institute, I knew what she meant.

Our day ended at the station filling out reports, while drinking really bad vending machine coffee. Anders charged them not only with the fight, but with assaulting us. Since I wasn't hurt, I knew it was to protect me from being sued. Since I was the first man on the force, no one wanted to take a chance on me having to go to trial for brutality.

When I left the station, I folded the solar panel, then replaced it in the Byrd's small storage compartment. When I turned on the Byrd, I found the battery fully charged. For the next ten minutes, I maneuvered it between the slower trolleys. Even though the Byrd had a full charge when I left the station, I plugged it to the charger while I went into the apartment. I was home and in the shower twenty minutes after my shift ended. 

I killed about an hour watching the TV news. Nothing much caught my interest, so I had no problem leaving it to head toward Doctor Lewis' apartment. When I arrived, I again marveled at how the Doc. could afford to live with the executives. The building was at least ten stories high. I had been told, by someone at the institute, that it had once been a fancy hotel. After the plague, it had been converted to apartments for the executives. Some still lived in houses, but most preferred to live in the high rise.

The older pre-plague houses and apartments were much in demand. Very few women had opted for the newer all plastic houses, spewing from prefab plants in the Midwest. The new houses were more energy efficient, but appeared more like mushrooms than houses. With the population about to shrink, it looked as though the plants might be forced out of business soon.

I entered into the fancy lobby, then searched for the elevator. No matter how many times I had been inside the building, I could never remember where the elevators were placed. I expect it was due both, to the change of the lobby decorations monthly, and the fact that the management tried to hide them. I found them, hidden behind some fancy oriental screen, I entered and pushed the seventh floor button. When the door opened again, I walked down the hall to Doctor Lewis' door. I had been in this building at different times of day over the last few months, but I had never seen anyone in the halls. I had met employees from time to time, but never had I seen any other resident, not even in the lobby. I found that strange. I had always meant to ask Doctor Lewis about it. I could never seem to remember to ask her. She always dominated the conversations in her apartment/office. I just seemed to follow along with her line of thought and forgot all about my question until I was again in her hallway.

When she answered the door, she wasn't wearing her usual business suit. Instead she was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a sweatshirt. The shirt had writing on it, but I couldn't read it. The words were in some foreign language. I didn't even have a clue as to the language, let alone the individual words. 

"Hi, Hank, come on in," Doctor Lewis said.

"Thanks, you sure look different without your suit," I commented.

"You don't mind the jeans do you?" she asked with a smile.

"Not at all," I replied, thinking she seemed a lot less formal than usual.

"Since you are no longer a patient, I thought you might forgive the let down in professional standards," she informed me again smiling.

"Oh, I thought this was a counseling session," I said.

"It is, but just as one friend to another. Our professional relationship ended when you left the institute," she explained.

"Oh, then I don't have to bare my soul to you?" I asked with a hopeful smile.

"No, from now on you can tell me only what you want. You can also ask the questions if you like," she suggested with a grin.

"This might be a lot more fun than the other sessions," I admitted.

"I hope so, I want you to come here because you want to come. Not because it is something the government forces you to do," she admitted.

"So, I don't even have to come back. I mean, I am not being required to attend these sessions?" I asked.

"That's right, you are free to come and go as you please," she agreed. She paused while I thought that one over. "Since that is out of the way, I have to tell you I am a lousy cook."

"Does that I mean, I don't get dinner after all?" I asked.

"No, it means you get a terrible lasagna, served with a pretty good salad." she said with a broad smile.

"Whatever it is has to be better than microwave dinners," I informed her.

"Would you like a drink before dinner?" She asked.

"No thanks, I drove over. I can't afford a driving drunk charge," I explained.

"Fair enough, I have some pretty good iced tea," she offered.

"That would be fine. So tell me, do you continue counseling all the orphans or am I special?" I asked.

"I think, that is a question I shouldn't answer. At least not for a while," she said.

"You said I could ask anything?" I reminded her.

"Yes, but I didn't say I would answer. Some questions are better left unanswered." she informed me as she disappeared into the kitchen.

When she returned a moment later, she brought two glasses of iced tea. I accepted the one she held to me. I nodded my thanks. It was actually very good iced tea.

"So how goes it with the cops?" she asked.

"It's going to be tough, but you warned me that it would be," I admitted.

"Try to understand, it has been twenty years since they saw a real man. The only things some of them know about men, comes from the propaganda films. The Government made some pretty horrible films right after the plague," she admitted.

"I have heard about them. Why did they do it anyway?" I asked.

"The idea was to demystify men and their role in society. The women in charge of the country, had to make the others understand that they could do anything needed to get the country working again. The films were just to help the women over the loss of their men." she explained.

"What did they plan to do when men began to reenter the work force?" I asked.

"Frankly when they made those films, they weren't concerned with a problem twenty years down the road. They were worried about women getting to work, so they could feed themselves. Then it became, 'put the country back on it's feet'. After that they succumbed to the seduction of power. One thing the women of this country could do was organize. As far as I know, we were the only country to institutionalize the remaining men. Because of that, we have the largest population of any nation on earth. Some of the countries have no third generation babies. At least not enough to mention. Our population is going to take a nose dive, hell it has already begun, but nothing like the rest of the world."

"Is it really that bad?" I asked.

"Some of the countries tried to clone children, it worked pretty well, but it is expensive and very, very difficult. For every viable child, there were at least twenty miscarriages. Worst of all, you don't get any men that way. With artificial insemination, we get almost ninety five percent success. We are even getting forty-five percent males from insemination. With the latest techniques, we can get five or six kid from every donation. Even better with some of you." she informed me.

"So, we aren't going to take as large a beating as some countries," I said.

"True, but we can't let up. We have to keep the program going," she said.

"So tell me this, who decided which women will have children?" I asked.

"Any woman who applies, if she is physically and mentally sound, can be considered," Doctor Lewis explained.

"That sounds real good on paper, but I expect there was more to it than that," I suggested remembering the gifts I had received from the mothers of my children.

"True, there have been some abuses," she admitted.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Rich or powerful women, made their way to the top of the list. Of course it really didn't matter. The idea was to have babies, the identity or position of the mother was immaterial," she said.

"I'll bet if you say that three times real fast, somebody would believe it," I said sarcastically.

"I know, in a democratic society it shouldn't have been that way, but it was," she said.

"So do the rich and powerful give up their sons to the state?" I asked.

"That's why the abuses stopped. The first round of mothers refused. There were a couple of exceptions made, then their friends who didn't get pregnant, or were too old to bare children, started to raise hell about the special treatment. So it ended." She paused to go into the kitchen for more tea.

"That is until now," she said after her return. "The only reason you guys were allowed to leave, was so that the rich and powerful could start having babies again."

"I'm afraid I don't understand?" I admitted.

"The government can only control the children it helped to create. In other words if a woman gets pregnant on her own, she can keep the baby. It doesn't matter what the sex of the child," she explained.

"Doctor Lewis do you mean, the idea was for all the twenty-one year old men to become professional breeders?" I asked.

"Call me Lois, since we aren't professionally involved. That was what we expected," she said.

"Okay Lois, you mean they never intended for any of us to work at the jobs we were trained to do?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter whether you do or not. If you want to become a professional breeder, no one is going to say a word. As a matter of fact, you will make a lot more money and be a lot safer. The government would actually prefer that you do just that." she said looking at the floor.

"So what happens, if I choose to stay were I am?" I asked.

"Then Hank, you get all the breaks the government can provide. They can't do much about the attitudes of the other cops, but they can make sure there is no official discrimination," she said.

"And if I choose to never breed?" I asked.

"That is a choice you have to make for yourself. They expect you to breed a certain amount, with or without their sanction. The government figures there will be enough women throwing themselves at you, so that you will just give in to it. Actually they expected you to have bred already," she said.

It took me a second to figure it out, but I suddenly knew. "You are telling me all this, because you were ordered to tell me," I said positively.

"Yes, I was told to have this meeting with you. The government wants you to breed. They would like for you to do it because you want to, but if not they will begin requiring you to donate again," she said sadly.

"Do you mean, they will take me back to the institute?" I asked.

"I don't think they will go that far. Probably just require a weekly donation," she informed me.

"I have already agreed to that," I suggested.

"Yes, but they can require you to actually do it. They can send a car to your door every Sunday morning then take you to the center. They can treat you the same as the professional breeders," she admitted.

"So how are they going to know whether I am breeding or not?" I asked.

"They are going to know," she said absolutely.

"I guess that tells me something," I said. It told me to watch what I said and did in my own apartment. Big brother was indeed watching me.

"Hank it gets worse," she said.

"I don't see how. For years they told us not to breed with anyone. Now you tell me, I better breed or else." I said.

"That was to keep your sperm count up while they were taking donations. Now that you are out, they want you to impregnate as many women as you possibly can," she admitted.

"What about the home and family bit. You know, the ideal they kept talking about in the institute?" I asked.

"That's the part that gets worse," she said sadly.

"So, let me have it all?" I begged.

"There have been no opposite sex marriages in twenty years. The government is going to make it the official policy. The president will announce it next week. She is going to tell the women, that you men are a natural resource like air, no one has a right to own the air," Lois said sadly.

"So I can never get married?" I asked.

"At least, not until the policy changes." she admitted. "It might change in a few years."

"How about living with a woman?" I asked.

"Anyone staying in your home more than three days will be arrested. They are going to pass a special federal law," she said.

"God this just keeps getting better and better," I said.

"You might as well hear the worst of it." she said with her eyes locked on a rather bad painting. "They are modifying the old rape laws." 

"Don't tell me, instead of twenty years for rape, you get twenty dollars," I said with disgust.

"Close, the government will only prosecute rape, if there is an injury. If anyone gets raped and there is no physical injury involved, there is no foul," she said.

"Cute, just how the hell is that possible?" I asked.

"Let me put it this way, you should be real careful about accepting drinks from strangers," she said. "There are a couple of wicked drugs out there."

"You mean to tell me, anybody can drug me, then breed with me, and there is nothing I can do about it?" I asked.

"Not unless you have an injury. Now if they kill you, or maim you, they are going to jail for life," she said.

"God, that's comforting," I said. "I guess, It isn't really all that surprising, I have never did own my own body."

"I know, it shouldn't be that way," she said. "But some things are more important than an individual's rights."

"If you don't mind, I think I will pass on the dinner. I have suddenly lost my appetite," I admitted.

"I don't blame you for wanting to pass on my cooking, but we have to finish this little talk before I can let you leave," she said.

"I thought, I was free to come and go as I pleased?" I asked.

"You are, after we finish this conversation. At least as free as you will ever be," she said.

"Which seems less and less all the time," I said angrily.

"I know it seems that way, but believe me, the good of the country has to come first," she said repeating the government's line. "Not only do they want you to breed, they want you to be especially good at it," she said.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It mean, you are to learn all the tricks the professional breeders use." she said.

"You have to be kidding," I said.

"Not at all, we have to create a new mystique about men. We have to convince women, on the grass roots level, that they should want you back into their society. Believe me there is a lot of resentment about letting you guys loose," she said. "When a woman gets bred for real, we want her to tell her friends what a wonderful experience it was. The older women remember and their memories have some weight, but we want new stories going around." 

"Why the hell did you wait until now to spring this one me? Why didn't you do it when I was at the institute?" I asked.

"Frankly, we are making this up as we go along. I know it is a lot to digest, but it is important, all of it," she said.

"So, who is going to be teaching this particular course?" I asked.

"Actually I am," she said.

"So, I am not free to come and go as I please. I am going to be back on the string again," I said.

"No, this isn't a long term course. It should last about five hours, when it is over, you never have to see me again. I hope we can stay friends, but the course has to be taught whether we are friends or not," she said firmly. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes while her information sank into my brain. Suddenly she said, "Why don't you have the dinner? I actually did go to a lot of trouble to prepared it for you."

"Why, so you can say you fed me, before you bred me," I said cuttingly.

"Please Hank, don't make this any more difficult than it has to be," she said.

"How difficult does it have to be?" I asked.

"Not difficult at all, just calm down and listen," she said with her doctor's voice.

"Okay, dinner first then lessons," I said.

As she promised dinner was only one step above a microwave dinner. The conversation was pretty much nonexistent. I used the time over dinner to think. I was going to be in a lot of trouble it appeared. After dinner she lectured me about women since the plague. I realized for the first time that nothing had been written about their real lives. I mean the books all told the story of the reconstruction of the country, but nothing about their personal lives. At least, none of the books I had been shown at the institute. 




How to Kill a Byrd



Lois had a few books, ones I had never seen. Some of them were even published by the Government. Lesbianism had pretty much swept the world as everyone expected. Just because there were no men, didn't mean women were starved for either affection or sex. There were other forms of sex, but none as prevalent as lesbianism. Those bits of information came from the government books. 

Most of the books were pretty general, almost embarrassed in tone. There were however two notable exceptions. Neither of the detailed books was published by the Government. One was called, 'A Woman's Handbook to Women'. The other one was titled, 'Inside Molly'. Between the two of them, there was a great deal of very detailed information. Those two were anything but embarrassed in tone. Both books were written by lesbians who seemed proud and defiant. I was amazed even, in the quick scan of them, just how detailed they really were.

"You are going to have to be able to do everything better than the women," Lois said. "Some of the information isn't relevant, since you have different equipment," she said.

"That's good, I doubt I could physically do some of these things," I said.

"Which ones?" Lois asked in a professional voice.

"I don't think it is possible for me to breed the number of times mentioned in this book," I said pointing to a section which described several hours of constant breeding.

"That is probably an exaggeration. However there are some things you can do to help yourself in that respect," she said handing me a small plastic box.

I opened the box to find an elastic band approximately one inch wide, with Velcro strips on either end. "Now what the hell is this?" I asked.

"Here read this," she said handing me a pamphlet. "It explains everything."

I left her apartment at midnight. Fortunately there had been no hands on training involved. I expect the offer was there, somewhere hidden in the hours of lectures. I just couldn't bring myself to even consider breeding the one person who had heard all my secrets. Besides I was more embarrassed than turned on.

I didn't even look at the material when I arrived home. I was exhausted, so bed was my only concern. I did dream about all of it. In my dreams, I was a watcher not a participant. Fortunately my alarm clock woke me before I joined in the fun.

With the Byrd seemingly dependable, I slept an hour later. I still managed to arrive a half hour before roll call. I again stayed in my Byrd until just before time to assemble. I walked into the building and then into the roll call room. As had been the case every morning there were catcalls and rude comments. I was a little surprised that Anders didn't come to my defense. I guessed that it would have been expecting too much. I knew she had her own reputation to consider. Defending a man wouldn't be a very popular move.

I was assigned to Officer Timmons for that day's patrolling. Timmons and I spent the entire day walking from one store to another. Timmons tried to stay off the sidewalk as much as possible. She preferred the air conditioning of the department stores to the sweltering heat of the concrete sidewalks. We didn't get a call all day, which she assured me was the normal coarse of events on foot patrol. It was just about as boring as anything I could ever have imagined.

I was ambushed at the station when Timmons and I returned. The Channel Eight news team was waiting outside. The young new woman wanted to interview me. I refused until the Captain interceded on her behalf. The Captain pulled me aside, then informed me, it would be good for the department's public image.

"So?" the petite blonde asked."What's it like being the first male police officer?"

"I wouldn't know, I am just the first one in twenty years. There was a time when all the cops were men," I informed her.

"Yes, but that was before the emancipation.," she said trying to rescue her interview.

"I come to work, I walk my beat, and I go home. Just the same as any other cop." I said.

"The word I get is that the other cops are giving you a hard time," she said.

"No more than any other rookie would receive," I lied.

"That's not how my source tells it?" she asked.

"Then why don't you interview your source?" I asked.

"You aren't being very helpful," she said sharply.

"Lady, I'm a cop. I am not a news person. I don't make up the news, I just tell it like it is," I said.

"We don't make up the news," she said defending herself.

"Well then, in this case you must be simply misinformed. As far as I am concerned, there is no problem at this station," I said as I turned to walk away. As I expected, that bit never made it to the TV.

I was home drinking a beer when the call came. "Byrd, I wanted to compliment you for not rolling over on your partners," the voice said.

"There was nothing to say," I lied. I did it because I didn't know who was on the communicator or who was listening. Since my conversation with Doctor Lewis, I was positive the apartment was bugged.

"So tell me, are the women getting to you?" the voice asked.

"I don't know what you are talking about," I said.

"Good for you," the voice said as the communicator went dead.

"Now who the hell was that?" I wondered aloud. The answer came twenty minutes later when the blonde news woman showed up at my door.

"Hi, no cameras," she said as she pushed past me.

"Please come in," I said as I closed the door. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to talk to you about the changes in the law," she said.

"Why in the world would you want to talk to me about the law. I have absolutely nothing to do with any changes in the law. I am just a rookie cop," I said.

"I wanted to get your reaction as a man," she said.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked. Surely the changes Lois had told me about weren't already in force.

"There is a rumor floating around that the government is going to temporarily ban different sex marriages. Something to do with supply and demand, I expect," she said.

"This is the first I heard of it," I lied.

"So how do you feel about that?" she asked.

"I'll let you know when it happens," I said.

"Okay, how about this one. They are planning to change the rape laws." she said.

"There hasn't been more than a dozen rape prosecution in Greenpoint over the last twenty years. Why would they need to change the laws now?" I asked. "Surely they don't think a handful of men are going to go around raping all the women?" I asked.

"No, but they think women may begin raping men," she said.

"Now how the hell would they accomplish that?" I asked.

"How about with Biomide," she suggested.

"What the hell is Biomide?" I asked.

"Come on, you can't be that stupid?" she demanded.

"Sure I can," I suggested.

"Biomide is a tranquilizer," she said.

"Why the hell would a woman want to give a man a tranquilizer. That seems to me, to be counter productive," I suggested.

"Well it wouldn't be. Biomide has a rather interesting side effect. It was invented to relax women during their period. It was supposed to fool the brain into thinking the body was still producing hormones, just as if she were half way through her cycle. It worked too well. The women who take them swear they get the same urges as when they ovulate. In other words their brains tells them they need to breed. Since there was no one to breed with, it didn't matter much. The women just did whatever they were doing as a breeding substitute," She informed me.

"So what?" I asked, trying to sound uninterested.

"So nothing, at least not until the college girls started complaining that other students were slipping them into liquor. It seems other students wanted to stimulate them into having sex. The beauty of Biomide is that you are, more or less, a willing participant. Not like the old days when the victim was just a lump," she said.

"If what you say is true, women have to watch those things." I said.

"Yeah, well the problem is that they work just as well on men. Biomide isn't a synthetic hormone, it stimulates the production of hormones. It also works on men and damned quickly, I am told," she said.

"Now how the hell do you know all this?" I asked.

"I have a friend in the government. The point is yesterday Biomide suddenly became nonprescription drug. Anybody can buy it across the counter," she said. She paused only a moment before going on. "Does that give you any ideas?"

"No, but I'm sure it gives you some," I said shortly.

"Not that kind, what I am thinking is the Government wants women to have access to the means to force other people into breeding. I presume the idea is to force you men into having more sex than you would otherwise choose to have," she said.

"That's ridiculous," I said knowing it wasn't ridiculous at all.

"Tell me why it is ridiculous?" she demanded.

"First of all, the idea of a drug like that is ludicrous. Secondly only a handful of women are going to know about it. Last, but not least, people aren't going to begin to take advantage of other people, just because they can. It's like guns, our society is full of them, but there are very few murders," I said.

"Here," she said handing me a small white pill.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You know what it is. Let's see if it works. If it doesn't, then you are right and I am wrong. If it does, the news story I am going to run tonight will be right on target. If it doesn't, then I will drop the story," she said.

"So, you are going to tell all the women who see your news show about the pill?" I asked.

"I am, because there was a national news story about it this afternoon. There will be another one tonight and again tomorrow night. The government wants women to know about this. You are about to become a target," she said with a vicious smile. 

"Women won't use this, even if it does work," I said.

"Sure they will. The Government has already told them they will not be punished in anyway. So it's going to happen," she said. "Take the pill and let's see if it works."

"At least tell me your name, just in case this works," I said with a sick grin.

"Emily," she said handing me the pill. "Don't move, I'm going to get you a glass of water." I watched her walk into my kitchen area. Emily was only a couple of years older than me. She was rather small even for a woman. 

She returned with a glass of water. She watched very closely while I swallowed the pill. For the next twenty minutes, I ducked questions. I had to give Emily credit, she never let up on me. 

It began with a tightness in my gut. My brain began telling me it was time for me to do something, I just wasn't quite sure what. I began to sweat. Emily noticed my problem.

"You are sweating and have a noticeable bulge in your trousers. I would say it is working quite well. Now if I did this," she said as she moved to kiss me deeply. I was suddenly lost. The urges were not all that new, just a lot more intense than I had ever felt. Worse of all Emily was warm and demanding.

Any hope resisting I might have had was swept away by the urges of my body. Even worse were the years of being taught to obey women. I mean, between the desires of my body and the obedience preached at me for twenty-one years, I was helpless. I hadn't had time to study the books and manual Lois had given me, but I remembered just enough to be dangerous.

We somehow managed to work ourselves out of our clothes. I noted that Emily was not a true blonde, but then I doubted that too many women were. Without her clothes she appeared thin, almost to the point of being sickly looking. Her body had only slight difference, from the body of a teenage boy. 

Emily received all the attentions I could remember. I was pretty sure I remembered most, if not all of them. In the end it was the real thing that drove her up the wall. She, like the other women, had never done it with a man. I doubted many men in the pre-plague era, had ever done it with a band wrapped tightly around them. The one thing the band did, was make damned sure I could stay at it longer than Emily. When it finally happened for me, it was like no other feeling in the world. It had to be as close to dying as a man ever came.

The feelings created by the drug dissipated rapidly afterward. Since the drug was not a synthetic, I could remember everything. I felt terribly humiliated, yet thoroughly relaxed.

"Damn Bird, how the hell did a virgin learn all those tricks?" she asked.

"I read a lot," I said softly.

"Well, at least we know the drug works just as advertised." Emily said.

"Damn it, I had hoped it was a myth," I said honestly.

"Well thanks a lot," Emily said angrily."What did you expect. I didn't exactly consent to it," I said.

"Sure you did. You knew what I was giving you," she said.

"But I didn't think it would work. Or at least, I thought I could resist it," I said disgusted with my own weakness.

"I don't think anyone could. I have taken it a few times myself, believe me it is wicked," she said. I noted she used the same words Doctor Lewis had used.

"You mean that not even a woman could resist it?" I asked with a smile I didn't really feel.

"Not a chance, with that drug the pressure is ten times worse than the day a woman ovulates," she said.

"Then leave me the bottle, I might want to make it with an unwilling woman," I said.

"Not on your life," she said. "Besides there aren't going to be that many unwilling women."

"You do know that I can never accept a Coke or sandwich from a woman again," I said.

"Sure you can, the payment may be a little different though," she said with a most unladylike laugh. "I know you probably can't do it again, at least not the real thing, but how about a few minutes of the other?" 

"Not a chance, why don't you cover your skinny little ass and go home?" I suggested.

"You are going to have to bribe me," she demanded with a smile. "And I am chic not skinny."

"Okay, but this is the last time," I said, and it was.

"I caught her nine o'clock news show that evening. The interview in front of the station was not on, but her discussion of Biomide was. She explained in great detail how it worked. It was pretty evident that she knew from experience. Her last statement of the piece went something like this, "Women have known for years the effect of Biomide on them. Well ladies, it has at least as great an effect on men." The statement was followed with, "or so they tell us." She made it as plain as she could, without coming right out with it. Then she clenched it. "For the best effect, I would suggest the woman take Biomide at the same time." The bitch just gave women the recipe, and the permission to commit wholesale rape. The three or four men who were not professional breeders had just been put on notice. Do not take drinks or food from women. From now on, life was indeed going to be interesting. I had a feeling my days of quiet solitude were about to end.

I would have been a lot more worried, if I hadn't enjoyed the breeding experience. It had indeed been pleasurable. Nonetheless I wanted to give it a few days, before I did anything like that again. I wanted to see what both Emily's, and my own reactions might be.

After the news, I studied the manuals in great detail, then fell into a rather deep sleep. For the first time in years, I didn't dream at all. I had never really been bothered with sex dreams until the books, but I always dreamed about one thing or another. That night, for the first time, I dreamed of absolutely nothing.

When the alarm clock woke me, I was in a wonderful mood. I managed to maintain it all the way through my morning routine. Even dodging the trolleys didn't seem to bother me, I was just in a great mood. I didn't know or care whether it was the drug or the breeding. I knew only that I felt better than I ever had before.

The crap began at roll call. Someone had placed an aspirin on my desk. It was joke, but one in pretty poor taste. I was absolutely sure they had all been warned, just as I had. There would be no breeding between cops. Besides, there were more than enough women in the world without messing with cops. 

Just to play along with the joke, I carried the aspirin to the trash as though it were a bomb. I dropped it into the empty metal trash can. The falling pill made a pinging sound as it rattled around the can before settling to the bottom. Some of the laughter was with me, and some was at me. It didn't matter, I hadn't embarrassed either myself or the perpetrator of the poor joke.

I was again assigned to foot patrol in the downtown area. I drew a partner named Busby for the day. Busby was a real hot dog, She went around trying to cause trouble with the laborers. She mouthed off at them every chance she got. She even cited one of them for being drunk in public. Of all my partners so far, Busby was the worst. When we stopped for lunch at the Downtown Deli, we met Anders. 

While Busby went to the rest room, Anders asked, "So, how do you like Busby?"

"She's different," I said trying to stay away from any criticism of a fellow officer.

"I know, just don't let her get you into any shit," Anders advised. "That Busby is a real bull dyke. It doesn't happen often, but once in a while she pulls the wrong broads chain. When she does, it usually take three of us to separate them."

I laughed just as I was supposed to do. "So did you ever work with Busby?" I asked.

"Just the usual rookie shifts. Once I got past that, I tried to stay away from her. She is going to get somebody killed before she retires. I would just as soon it not be me." Anders said.

"I second that," I said.

"So what were you two talking about?" Busby asked as she walked up.

"You of course dearie," Anders said with a grin.

"Something bad I hope," she said.

"If it was about you, it would have to be bad," Anders commented.

"True, I am one bad assed dyke," she said looking at me with a smile.

"Somebody said, you bred that little blonde bitch reporter?" Anders asked.

"I don't think I should talk about breeding with you two," I said with a smile.

"You did pop her cherry, didn't you?" Busby asked. I refused to answer so she went on anyway. "So how was her skinny little ass?"

"I told you, I am not going to either confirm or deny who I breed," I said firmly.

"I'll bet that little twit is hell in bed," Busby continued as though I had answered her.

"Give it up Busby, is that all you have on your mind?" Anders asked.

"What else is there?" Busby countered.

I tuned them out while I ate my corned beef sandwich. I tried not to listen to their pornographic conversation. It was hard, but I concentrated on my own thoughts, which did not include Emily. I was actually trying to remember, whether or not I had deployed the solar panel on the Byrd.

"Come on Bird, let's go harass some more dykes," Busby said as she stood to leave.

When two thirty arrived, it looked as though I would finish my day with Busby without her actually striking anyone. When the zone car arrived to give us a lift back to the station, Busby was the last one to enter. I was already seated when the shot rang out. My first instinct was to duck, my second was to pull Busby into the car. I tried but Busby was limp and covered in blood. I couldn't believe it, someone had shot my partner. Damn I thought, I have only been on the job three days and I loose a partner. This is not going to look good.

I left the car by the door opposite Busby. I rushed around the car to help her without ever thinking to draw my pistol. When I knelt over her, I knew she was dead. I was still bent over her when a second shot rang out. This one struck the car by my head. I must have panicked. I lifted Busby's bloody body, then carried her to the rear of the car. When she was safely out of the line of fire, I pulled my weapon.




How to Kill a Byrd



"Where is she?" I asked the driver.

"On the roof," the driver said vaguely.

"Did you see her?" I asked trying to pin her down.

"Hell no, I was keeping my head down, like you should have been," she informed me.

I looked at her name tag. "Willis you stay here, I am going to see if I can make it to the building," I said.

"Hell no rookie, you are not going to leave me here to look like a chicken shit. I am going with you," she said as she stood and began moving in front of me. We rushed the building together. I figured we had a pretty good chance, since whoever was doing the shooting had missed me while I was standing still. There were no more shots fired. We rushed into the building, then climbed the stairs to the top floor. All the doors led to offices of one kind or another. Women were milling about the hallway more or less in mob formation. "How do we get to the roof?" Willis asked one of the secretaries. The secretary simply stared vacantly at Willis. 

"How the hell do we get to the roof," I shouted at the secretary.

"Through the hatch in the stair well," she almost screamed.

Willis and I climbed the ladder to the roof. She took an extremely long time to open the hatch. I didn't expect she was looking forward to going out there. I know, I wasn't. It had all been much easier before we got to the hatch. Before the hatch it was really an instinct thing. Now it was down to a gut check. Whoever opened the hatch was likely to get a bullet as payment for their effort.

She finally forced the unlocked hatch upward, then quickly climbed out onto the roof. I followed her before I had a chance to think about it. We were on the roof and we were alone. We did a quick search of the three building which shared the common roof. Not only where there three building, there were fire escapes everywhere. 

"Shit," Willis said looking down the last fire escape. 

"It looks like she is gone. Let's see if we can find the place she used to shoot Busby," I suggested.

Willis nodded, Then swore. "Shit, I forgot to call for an ambulance and backup."

"Do it now," I suggested.

"You do it, I am going to swear I told you to call, but you got excited. You better go along with me on this. It is going to be your word against mine," she said with a truly evil look.

"I'm going to swear I never heard you," I said angrily. I looked back at her just as hard as she had looked at me.

"Just make the call," she snapped.

The two shell casings I found before the others arrived were for a rather small bore rifle. The kind most women used to hunt varmints. Willis and I were at the scene for two more hours. I must have given my story a dozen times. Each time I had to repeat that I never heard Willis tell me to call for back up, or an ambulance for Busby. 

After talking to all the witnesses is seemed that no one saw the shooter. I don't think anyone saw it happen. At least not the shot which killed Busby. Everyone told the same story, the shot caused them to look outside in time to see Willis and I rush the building. 

"She must have been using hollow points," Willis said to the detectives on the scene. "They sure as hell made a mess of Busby."

"Okay, you two go on to the station. I want a full report on this sorry mess," the detective said.

"We have already told you a dozen times," Willis complained.

"This time I want it in writing, do you understand," the detective asked angrily. The written statement was Willis' last chance to come clean and we all knew it.

"Yes ma'am," I said.

"Don't ma'am me Bird, I work for a living," the woman said with a smile.

"Right," I said as I headed to the car. 

Willis trailed after me.She didn't speak to me again, even after we reached the station. Once inside the duty officer put us in different rooms. I expected it was to make sure we each told our own version of the story. The written statement took forever. I wrote and rewrote if for hours,

Three hours later I arrived home. Upon entering my apartment, I noticed the blinking message light on my communicator. I lifted the headset, then pushed the replay button. 

"Bird, this is Emily, how about we get together tonight? Call me." 

"Fat chance," I said aloud. Everybody knew I had bred her. She had all but told the world about it on her stupid show. I didn't need anymore trouble from her.

The second message was already playing as I spoke to myself. "Bird this is Doctor Lewis, I just heard about the shooting. If you need to talk? Just call me. You have my number." I also planned to ignored that one.

The third message seemed a little more interesting. "Mr. Bird, this is Lola your landlady, would you please come down, if you get a minute," the metallic voice said.

Since I had nothing else to do at the moment, I walked down the outside stairs and into the drug store. I found her behind the prescription counter as usual. "Hi there," I said. "You know I have lived here almost a month and I didn't know your name was Lola," I said with a smile I didn't feel.

"I try not to spread that around too much. It just isn't a name to inspire confidence," she said with a sad little smile.

"I don't know, it sounds fine to me," I said not really understanding.

"No it doesn't, Lola is the name of a stripper," she said. She paused a long time then began again. "Hank did you know there have been women around your apartment during the day while you are gone?" she asked.

"No, but I'm not surprised," I said. "Were they around again today?" 

"Communicator women, or so they said," Lola replied. There was a question in her voice.

"I expect they are just snooping," I suggested.

"You might want to be careful what you say in the apartment," she suggested.

"Thank you, I will keep that in mind," I agreed.

"Is there anything else?" I asked only because she didn't seem to be finished with her thought.

"Actually there is, but I can't talk about it right now. Could I stop by after I close up here?" she asked.

"Sure, but remember the place may be bugged," I reminded her.

"That's right, how about you coming down here around nine. I will send Lucy home early," she informed me. If she had any serious thoughts they didn't show on her face.

"Sure," I said not knowing what else to say.

I spent a couple of miserable hours with the TV. It was filled with the details of the shooting. My picture was right there with all the other cops. Emily was doing her thing, just as hard as she could. She acted as though she had some kind of inside source with the cops. Wonderful, I thought, now all the cops would think I was passing her information. I really didn't need that kind of rap hanging over me. Why the hell hadn't I slammed the door on her when she showed up? I asked myself. Unfortunately I didn't come up with any good answers.

When nine o'clock came, I walked down the stairs and then to the front door of the drug store below. The front door was locked, but Lola came to answer it quickly. She held the door open for me to enter, then locked it behind me. I stopped just inside the door, since I didn't know what else to do.

"Come on back to the office," she said. When we arrived in the small room with a desk she asked, "I am having a cup of coffee would you like one?" 

"Sure why not," I answered as I poured myself a cup of coffee from the pot.

"Would you mind refilling mine?" she asked.

"Not at all," I answered taking her cup to the pot. "So what did you want to talk about?" 

"I wanted to ask you about your Byrd. I mean, I hoped you would tell me what you did to fix it. I have been thinking about buying one, but I don't know," she said with her voice trailing off.

"I bought mine from the newspaper. The woman who owned it tried to have it repaired, but was quoted the price of a new motor. Which was about two hundred bucks more than the Byrd was worth. She decided to buy a new one instead. All I did was rebuild the motor and find a new power supply. Hers was totally shot. I am surprised, she managed to keep it running long enough to wear out the motor," I said with a laugh.

"I wondered how you could afford a car. When you bought it, you didn't even have a job," Lola said.

"I know, it was a bit of a risk," I admitted.

"Did they give you money when you left the institute?" she asked.

"Actually they released some money the government had been holding in trust for me," I said.

"Your mother's estate?" Lola asked.

"No, my mother's estate went to her daughters. Why shouldn't it, she never really knew me and I never even met her. No the money they gave me was from the mothers of the children I fathered," I said.

"I don't understand, I thought the fee went toward the cost the government incurred for your care," she said.

"This had nothing to do with the fee. It was just a gift from the mothers to the donors. Believe it or not, most of the women who were chosen to have the babies were the more affluent of the applicants. How that works out, I have no idea. All I know for sure, is that they sometimes deposited money into the orphan's private account."

"Do you have any idea how many children you fathered," Lola asked.

"No idea whatsoever," I replied. "I do know, I received a rather large parting check."

She seemed to begin loosening up a little, as she changed the subject. "I always wanted to ask, were you named for the car?" she asked.

"To tell you the truth, I have no idea," I admitted. Our real identities were kept secret. Everyone was given new names. I just got Hank Bird for some unknown reason. Even as I spoke I was beginning to feel a little warm. By the time I understood why, it was already too late. Since we drank from the same pot, Lola was feeling the same things as me. When she noticed the effect the drug had on my body, she moved around the desk to stand close to me. I couldn't help myself, I pulled her to me and began kissing her passionately. Not only did she respond, she began pulling at the buttons of my shirt. Within seconds we were both more or less naked. 

I became lost in that fog of desire and obedience again. I did all the things I had been reading about. When it came time for the final act, I realized I didn't have my band. I had been so conditioned to obey I almost stopped. I would have, had my body not been out of control. Lola pulled me down on top of her. I did the best I could, and found that it was more than I would have thought. I expect it was the guilt of not having done as my mistresses had ordered. What ever the reason, it took almost as long for me to finish. When I finally did. Lola clutched at me as tears rolled down her face. She held me tight as spasms wracked through her body. I held her against my withering body until she calmed.

When her trembling finally stopped, I quickly raised myself off her. I knew my body had to be painful pressing her against the desk. I sat in the chair gasping for breath as she moaned while continuing to wriggle like a snake.After several more minutes, she sat up then spoke in a rather weak voice.

"God that was wonderful. I have never felt anything like it," she said with a warm expression on her face.

"Why did you do it?" I asked the hurt showing on my face.

"Do what?" she asked innocently.

"Spike the coffee?" I said.

"I didn't spike the coffee," she said. Her face betrayed her guilt. "Besides, so what if I did. I saw that television woman go into your apartment. I also heard her report on Biomide. She had obviously just been bred. I may not be an Oracle but I can add." 

"So now, I guess I am going to have to move," I commented.

"It won't matter, there will be women where ever you go. The word is out, we can have you anytime we want. Hell this is a damned site cheaper than hiring a breeder," she said with a nasty edge to her voice.

"So, is this your real personality, or is it the Biomide?" I asked.

"Who cares, I don't know about you, but I think I could do that again," she said with a smile.

"I don't think so," I said standing to leave. I would have made it had she not come to stand close to me. She pulled me down to her mouth. I couldn't help kissing her, any more than I could help the things that followed. It was probably more the obedience thing, than the drug by that time, but I couldn't be sure. Women had been ordering me around since I was born. It was hard not to follow an order, even from a woman who had no real control over me.

I went to bed, as soon as I arrived home that night. I didn't want to think about what I had done. I needn't have worried, I fell right to sleep again. I slept again without any dreams at all. I had to grudgingly admit, I slept better those last two nights than I ever had before.

The next morning I followed my normal routine. I arrived at the station and waited for the roll call, before I went inside. I was surprised that there were no jokes or catcalls. I guessed it was due to Busby's death. God only knew when the last cop had been killed in the line of duty. Greenpoint had always been a quiet little town.

When the Sergeant arrived we began to hear the details of the shooting. A note had arrived at the station. The note explained to the Chief, that a cop would be killed every month. It had arrived shortly before midnight the night before. There was a suspicion among the Chief and the detectives that it might be a cop who shot Busby. If not, then at least someone with a police radio. Since the targets were cops, it seemed unlikely that the woman on the roof had just happened on our pickup point. The consensus was that she heard us call for a pickup at that spot, then had rushed to the building, arriving just as the zone car arrived. From that day forward, we were warned to keep a close eye out for ambushes.

The Sergeant did not assign me a beat, so I waited until everyone else left the room. "So where do I work today?" I asked.

"Radio room, until we figure out who screwed up yesterday," the Sergeant said.

"I told you, if Willis told me to call, I never heard her," I said repeating the story.

"That's what we are going to find out. Willis should have made that call herself, but if she told you to make it, then her ass is covered. You are a rookie and we can forgive you, but not Willis," the Sergeant said with a strange look on her face.

"If I cop to it, what happens to me?" I asked.

"You get a note in your jacket. It will come out after six months," the Sergeant said.

"If I don't?" I asked.

"You can request a polygraph. If you come out clean, then either Willis takes it or she is gone. If she takes it and fails, she is gone. You see getting excited and not making the call would have gotten her a note in the jacket, but dumping it on a fellow officer would be an offense no one would forget," the Sergeant said.

"What should I do?" I asked.

"The easy thing would be to take the note. The hard thing would be to take the polly. You will catch a little hell for a while, but nobody is safe, if Willis is trying to lay her mistake on you. She could just as easy screw up something big, then dump it on a good officer," the Sergeant said.

"Make the appointment," I demanded.

I took the polly and passed it. Willis was gone by the end of the day. I was pretty unpopular by quitting time. I knew I had done the right thing, but the knowledge didn't really help any. Nobody likes the idea of being shunned. No one spoke to me at all that day, until Anders caught me on the way out the door. 

"You did the right thing. It could have been me she dumped on. Don't let the others bother you, they are just making cop noises. The brotherhood of the badge, doesn't let Willis screw you anymore than it lets you rat her out. They know that, and I will remind those who forget," she said.

"Thanks, but you don't have to do that. It won't do any good and it will put you on my side. Being on my side, doesn't seem to be a very popular place to be right now," I reminded her.

"What makes you think I care about the others. Cops are like snakes. They are somehow in God's plan, but she sure didn't make them perfect or even pretty," Anders said with a laugh.

When I arrived home, I found a message of apology from Lola on my voice mail. She informed me that the drug had made her crazy. She wanted a chance to apologize in person. I didn't even bother to return her call. I had no intentions of giving her the chance to dope me again.

I spent the night with the TV. From Emily on the evening news, I learned that someone had leaked the note. Emily added a lot more details that I had been told. At least that should get me off the hook. The details said that a cop would die every twenty eight days. The Sergeant had said once a month. There was just enough difference for the detectives to find the leak.

I slept well enough that night, but not so well as the nights when I had been drugged. Quite possibly it was the drug, more likely it was the sexual release. I didn't really give it all that much thought. I was just too busy living my life to stop and analyze every aspect of it. Besides, it would still be the same whether I understood it or not.

When I arrived at the station the next morning, I could tell something had changed. People were moving through the halls as if someone else had been killed. I knew we were all grieving for Busby, even some for Willis I imagined, but it seemed as though there was more to it.

"Did you hear, they found our leak," Anders said.

"No, but I'm glad, even I was beginning to suspect me," I said. "So who was it?"

"That bitch Morrison," Anders replied.

"Detective Morrison?" I asked. Morrison had been one of the first detectives on the scene of the shooting.

"The same, she called that reporter just as soon as she got a chance. Hell she even called the news bitch while she was working the case. Used a pay communicator near the scene," Anders expounded.

During roll call the Sergeant didn't mention a thing. I expected to be back on the street, since all the mysteries were cleared. When I didn't draw an assignment I was pissed. I waited patiently for all the others to clear the room, before I approached the Sergeant.

"So what do I do today?" I asked.

"You are being temporarily assigned to the hunt for our shooter. I expect the Chief thought it would be good PR," the Sergeant said with real disgust in her voice.

"Am I really going to be allowed to do anything, or am I just to drive one of the detectives around?" I asked.

"Those also serve, who only chauffeur the detectives," she said pompously.

"Come on Sarge have a heart," I begged to absolutely no avail.

"You have been here less than a full rotation. In that time you have been in a fight, and had a partner killed. I think you have done about enough for one rotation. Now go along and report the defective, detectives," she said kindly.

"I want you to know. I do not approve of this," I said with a grin.

"Well, try not to get anyone else killed," she said with a warm smile.

The detective bureau was one large room separated into cubicles by half glass partitions. I reported to the first desk in the room. The middle-aged woman at the desk pointed me to the desk of a somewhat younger woman. When I say younger. I mean she might have been in her early thirties as opposed to her late forties.

"I'm Bird, I was told to report to you," I said.

"Mellon," she said extending her hand, "Have a seat while I finish this report," she said looking up curiously. I sat while she read the report. "Bird, did you hear anything before the shot?" 

"Nothing that I can remember," I said. "Why did someone else hear something?"

"Not that I am aware of, I was just wondering. I was also wondering, if this had anything to do with you. I mean, you did just start and the killing happened three days later. Do you reckon it might have been you the shooter wanted," she asked.