“How long until we reach the destination?” Cassandra asked, letting her face relax for the first time in what felt like an hour. That smile on her face was hard to keep up. With all the cameras in the office, keeping up the kind expression was vital for a good perception. However… Police vans were another thing. No cameras to monitor her, and no humans to see that calm expression.

“Time is estimated to be less than two minutes,” an obviously fake, happy voice answered. It was understandable the happy voices were meant as a form of making the automations seem more human, but, damn, did Cassandra find the bastard creepy sometimes.

According to what had been said in the lunchrooms so long ago, they were what was supposed to replace her and everyone else in the force. Those long-legged, clothed, automations were meant to do what required years of training. Honestly… Cassandra could see where that idea came from.

She was fit, yeah. Daily training made that possible, and the milder enhancements did a lot to help as well. But… those things were on another level. They were perfect for rescues, able to carry close to triple their body weight, while also perfectly analyzing possible fractures in any structure.

That wasn't even beginning on the possibilities of the more violent parts of the job. Cassandra needed body armour, as she could be killed by the mildest of hits. The automations? They could take a shot nearly anywhere but their eyes, and those had protection when outside.

Those eyes did not help in the creep-factor though. If not for the off-tinted skin, they could have played the role of a human police officer well enough. The voice could still have used some work, however. It sounded too… electronic? Way too artificial.

“And… we are here,” the automation happily informed her, before getting out of the driver's seat, and out onto the street. Cassandra noted the small delay put in as yet another proof that the talking was becoming better gradually.

Getting out as well, the woman had to distastefully accept the state of her surroundings. Garbage bags were stacked next to the container, nobody having come around to take them. Likewise, the grass on the sides of the road had begun to grow a bit too long. Not enough to make any problems, but still more than enough to look a little unkempt. Really, they could have done better with things like these.

Cassandra requested the needed information through her brain implant, getting the room number and floor of the caller. Next to her, the automation was standing around, looking a bit like a statue in how inanimate it was. Standby-mode or whatever it was called. Helped enforce the notion of the things not being alive. Not blood pumping through those veins. That was for sure.

“Come on,” Cassandra more or less ordered, moving over and into the apartment building. At least the inside wasn't as bad as the outside. There was security on the building as well, stopping any trespassers from coming in. Well, unless they were a cop. The apartment buildings and many others were legally forced to allow free entry to cops. The job came with privileges like that, even if it came with next to no benefits outside of work.

Eying the elevator, a small temptation came to her mind. It was only one floor up, so riding it wouldn't matter too much. In cases where subjects were under fifty floors, there was a standard regulation to take the stairs. Yet… there weren't really any real emergencies happening, so…

Yup. Yet again, Cassandra withstood the sweet temptations of breaking protocol, moving her ass over to the emergency stairs. They were clearly never used much, even if they were clean enough to touch. Behind her, the automation silently followed along, the only indicator of its presence being the soft footsteps.

One floor up, the sound-proofing finally began to fail. Even if her ears had not catched it, her brain implant was more than ready to let her know of the disturbance. Swiftly running diagnostics, the system recognized it as the same voice as the previous caller. Was there perhaps an actual emergency? That was new.

‘Prepare for possible engagement. Limit everything to non-lethal and prioritize limiting injury of all forms,’ Cassandra sent over to the automation. One nice thing about brain-implants was the possibility of one-to-one conversation without ever opening one’s mouth. Sure, it required the loss of a few other functions and was restricted to government officials, but she could live with it.

With a twist of her hand, she brought out her own weapon of choice for the day. A small cylinder of sorts made to fit snugly inside someone's sleeve. It was able to house a full magazine load of small quick-acting sedatives. It was precise up to a distance of ten meters and could work with the mind directly to create pinpoint accuracy. Even better, the functional distance was almost doubled inside wind-free environments.

In other words, it was a stick that could be used to shoot people. Pretty neat.

As Cassandra got up the final steps of the stairs, the sounds began to grow into something decipherable. Her ears still failed to pick up the exact details, but that was another side that the automations were better at. They had ears that could pick dog-whistles. After a small request of sending over the live feed, she began to hear double, one of the sides having more detail than the other.

‘I didn't steal any of your fucking plants!’ a male voice shouted. Another walk through the system made that out to be one of the neighbours. A mister… oh. Yeah, Cassandra had one big, fat guess on what was going on, and there was a very small chance she was wrong with it.

‘We are engaging. Defend if attacked. I will attempt a hold on the situation verbally,’ Cassandra sent to the automation. It sent back a thumbs-up emoticon. Whoever thought that a good tactic deserved a slap in the back of the head.

Opening the door into the hallway and out of the emergency stairs, Cassandra was able to see two figures about seven meters down the hall. One of them was a man holding a broom, and the other was an old lady holding a large potted plant. The sighting let the woman know that the system had correctly identified both.

“Miss Blixen?” Cass said, alerting both shouting adults to her presence. That quieted them down a good bit. That was good. Using the crowd-control devices inside an apartment building would have required a tad more paperwork. “This is the police. I was called here due to an emergency involving stolen flowers.”

“Oh, finally. Please arrest this man immediately,” the old woman said, pointing one of her pudgy fingers towards the younger man holding a broom. “He has repeatedly stolen my delicate plants. He is a gruesome criminal and must be attended in a way that fits his class!”

“My class? Are you fucking serious, woman?” the man said. “The apartment group was positively forced into cleaning this part of the hallway, and you find it so bad that I move your plants around a little?”

Checking up on the context, a group chat came forth. It seemed that the cleaning-bots had been put on semi-permanent standby, making dirt and such begin to gather in the hallways. Straws had been drawn, and somebody had been put on cleaning duties. Though… from what could be seen, those straws might not have been made equally. Some of the numbers had been forged to give a certain somebody a disadvantage. How utterly not surprising.

“Would both of you kindly calm down? I am sure that we will discuss this-” Cass started, knowing full well that the older lady just had to cut in before she finished. Up in those ages, they all liked to complain about the young being obnoxious, yet had somehow never noticed their unstoppable ideas about superiority.

“You scum are the reason this city is ruined!” Miss Blixen said, just having to go there. “It should only be fair that you get locked away for those crimes of yours!”

And… there the old lady went, throwing one of her so-called prized potted plants. It surfed through the air, right towards the young man’s face. With the surprising amount of force put behind it, the intended target of the face would have been hit. Not that this was allowed of course.

Having sent a command to engage the moment the woman began her swing, the automation was already in the middle of it, grabbing the potted plant out of the air, making sure no damage happened to anybody. Meanwhile, Cassandra used her favourite method of immobilisation, sending a sedative shot right into the left thigh of the missus. It was always written down as an accidental placement, that she had intended to aim for the chest. But… people had a surprisingly hard time being obnoxious when they were forced to kneel. And that was one aspect that could be used without too much hardship.

“Oh… thank you,” the young man said, putting his broom next to the wall to take the potted plant offered by the automation. The scrap bucket had apparently decided that he was the rightful owner. Cassandra felt little desire trying to figure out why that was.

“It is my pleasure,” the automation answered, that happy voice still present. It was not met with the happiness that had perhaps been expected in its implementation. If anything, the man flinched.

“You bitch,” miss Blixen had the courtesy of saying aloud. At that point, Cassandra knew she wouldn't get anything out of the woman herself. Sending the automation over to do that was figured to be the easiest choice to make. That left another task for her to do, however.

Signalling the now broomless man over to her, one last background check was done on him to make sure that everything was documented. Single, thirty-some years old, web designer for a website meant for adults only, and the nationality… yeah, it was all as she had guessed it was.

“Denys Finch, I presume?” Cass asked the man. He looked none the worse for wear if still a little red-faced from the earlier screaming match. And more, perhaps? Looking down at the floor, there were actually a few scars from pots. Cassandra felt like she would have to put in a request for the camera footage.

“Uh… yeah, yeah, that’s me, yes… madam,” Denys answered. Turned out that the incapacitation of an attacker turned out to be a tad intimidating to some. Cassandra could understand that, though she would have preferred it if he used another word to signify her presence.

A note was automatically put in to check out any potential health risks that came along with questioning. Like so many times before, it took a good amount of willpower to restrain an eye-roll. The man was just nervous. Nothing that needed to be noted down for an insurance company. Looking at his profile, he didn't even have insurance on… anything? Wow, the guy was a cheapskate. If the pot had hit his face, the man’s bank account might just have been emptied.

“Do you know why Miss… Blixen would want to attack you?”Cass asked, mentally beginning to record the man’s statement. Technology was nice like that, allowing her to do none of the tasks with her own hands. It was all about making it work with her mind. Both negatives and positives with that. For one, she wasn't allowed to think about the weather without it being included in the report. Didn't make for the most professional of tones.

“You did hear what she said, right? She thinks I steal her fucking flowers every day. Banged on my door yesterday about it, screaming at my face how I am a dirty thief. Not the best of neighbours to have, really,” Denys began. Already, Cassandra just knew she had to make him hone a little more in on the actual reason. Everybody knew why, but if it sounded as if she hinted at it, then she would not be looked at favourably.

“Of course not,” Cass said, agreeing to the man’s words. “Any deeper reasons that you believe might be the cause for this behaviour of hers? Any longer grudges perhaps? Something that could trigger such a… reaction from her?”

“Nothing at all. Really, we haven't even spoken to each other before, until… last week,” Denys said, slowing down to look over at the woman for a few seconds. “She came around asking where I was from and all. Wanted to know it down to the name of the hospital. I'm on a work visa right now, meaning that I come from over the border. I guess that might have caused some tensions.”

Cassandra wouldn't have guessed, mentally noting it down as an act of extreme nationalism. Those kinds of acts had been happening with increasing frequency as of late. She hadn't been out during most of them, since the current hours weren't close to standard time for such things, but enough small-talk had occurred to know about them.

Thanking the man for his time, Cassandra saw him scurry back into his own apartment, his broom in hand. That left the dear Madam Blixen, who had been on her knees for a couple of minutes. Well… on one knee. The other was being used in a desperate attempt to try to get up. Yet, it seemed that the old bones refused to cooperate. There was no sadness lost about that fact. The automation had done the briefing for her, which she was grateful for. That just left one duty left for her.

“Miss Blixen, I have to notify you that you have now received your… first warning due to an attempt to harm another person. While not fully proven, this is expected to have been due to a reasoning of perceived patriotism. If that is the case, I can officially say that your country does not thank you.”

There was no comment to this, much to the surprise of Cassandra. It was about now she would be called a pig. Had they forgotten their line? Must have been it. After being given the antidote to the sedative by the automation, she was just stared down by the old woman, as she entered her apartment as well.

A thankless job indeed. With the report out of the way, Cassandra began to walk back to the car, ready to get back to the station for a new cup of tea. Fate was kind enough to wait for her to get in the car before it spit out another caller to disturb her peace.

Cassandra supposed that was the best one could get. When on the border of two countries waging war, it could have been a lot worse than this.