November rain fell from dark skies. It hammered in an endless barrage through the chill air and landed in a pool of blood which stained the city streets of New Chicago. The liquid poured from bullet wounds in a nameless body. I took out a notepad and began to jot down some notes regarding the scene before me. A raindrop hit the page and I attempted to brush it away, but only succeeded in smearing my words. I cursed. I never knew why I insisted on using paper over datapads; I don’t have any claim to nostalgia. After all, I am not human.
My name is Able. This was one of my first cases as a detective in the NCPD and, especially as an ‘alien,’ I wanted to do everything right. Hogbats were only recently allowed to join the NCPD; the eyes of the world were on us. But, the job had begun to chip away at the last of my optimism. A few embers remained, but I could feel the inevitability of them being snuffed out.
The body was face down, but it was easy to see that the victim was one of my kind. He had the lanky body, head crest and rough skin that were distinguishing features for Hogbats. When I turned him over, I could still see the fear in all four of his dark eyes. He had been shot in his neck and lower torso.
As I studied the lifeless body, two other police officers -- both of them human -- returned from their hover-car with metallic pillars in their hands. These men had found the body earlier and I decided to come see if I could help. They placed them around the scene which connected with a beam of yellow, holographic light. It read the all-too-familiar words of: CRIME SCENE. DO NOT CROSS. Both cops were human, one older and one younger. They looked at me with visible annoyance, but they did not speak. Instead, the older man handed me a datapad with their report. It read: Hogbat, dead in alleyway on 64th.
“Had a few run-ins with him before,” the older man said. “This guy was a crook. Probably just pissed off the wrong gang and got fried. Case solved, Detective.”
He said the last words with sarcasm and scorn. Technically, I was his superior, but that didn’t matter when you were a Hogbat in a human city. I looked at him, but I did not speak.
He simply snorted before saying: “You’re actually gonna take the case, aren’tcha?”
“I am.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s a waste of time. There’ll just be another one tomorrow.”
He was not wrong, and that was the problem. This was business as usual, dead Hogbats in the streets.; my kind lived and died in those streets. After he spoke, the two officers turned around and headed towards their hover-car. I stood there in silence, icy rain utterly drenching my coat and suit. Then I heard the voice of one of the men call out: “Don’t worry about cleaning up the mess. It’ll happen sooner or later.”
They disappeared into the rainy night and I found myself thinking again. They assume before they try to understand. Indifference is almost as bad as hatred, and it’s easy to dehumanize when there’s no care. Humans and Hogbats; we’re not all that different. We’re all broken, they just have power. As I turned back to the alleyway, a part of me hoped that things would get better. But that ember of hope was beginning to fade.
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