Narrative Essay About Cary Jones

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He owes me a thing or two. Knows I’m discrete about debts. And that, kids, is why this tired old gumshoe is at the insider Ball of the year watching Mechs pretend to be Techs while flesh skins rub elbows with natural born humans; and me on the sideline waiting for the orgy to begin.
You don’t find “gumshoe” on the job retraining forms, it’s not in the standard options for career path evolution either. I didn’t invent the job. Jealousy and insecurity are primary sentient traits. So is hitting the other guy over the head with a blunt object when you think he’s been wasting your time or affection. Cary Cole, Investigator, was my shot at never having an oversight manager or Gunnery Sergeant cursing down my neck ever again. I threw out my shingle eight days after I returned from my last happy little world tour compliments of the then still U. S. Marine Corps. Things were bleak back then, I was busted up, government money was next to worthless and the corporations hadn’t stepped up to issue
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Now floating labs, the deep-set labs and the limited access points to the island increased the illusion of security that the world’s leader in military, corporate, and pleasure computers required. Fact was Magna had labs spread throughout the old Puget Sound region and security wasn’t a problem when loyalty was written into the base code of every make and model. What used to be ZimoGenetics, Microsoft, PhysioControl, and Nintendo became Magna Campus after some political human thought it was a good idea to detonate bunker-busting nuclear weapons on volcanoes and cities across the globe. The Puget Sound and the Salish Sea now sat in a bowl surrounded by the new Seven Sisters and the old Mountain. They’ve changed its name so many times I quit trying to keep current, somewhere along the line they quit naming it. It really is The Mountain if you’re
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