Tales from the Past - Found Footage
[Files extracted from a sample retrieved in Northern Algol, by a ROPES survey team on May 15, 2064, during the preliminary cleanup operations for the disposal of the Euterpe distortion core. The full report can be accessed with a clearance level A3 or above. Contact detective Veckert Rainer for further inquiries.]
Digital recording, a little bit of noise, picture slightly out of focus, angled up. A man near the center of the screen, proudly wearing his badge, his expression slightly amused.
“Hey, Lann, still playing with the camera?”
The picture shakes, another voice coming from out of sight.
“Yes, dad! I want to make a movie!”
The man squats, now the camera is even with his eyes. We see him better, now. Dark eyes, dark hair. Probably in his forties. Wears a police uniform.
“Oh, oh, what kind of movie?”
“A mystery story! About a ghost haunting a police station!”
The badge comes into focus. We see the name of the department, etched on the shiny metallic surface. We see the name of the city too. A big city, more than one million inhabitants.
“Huh, that sounds scary.”
“It has to be!”
“Well, good luck, my little Spielberg! Don’t get too reckless and don’t break anything, or mom will vent her frustration on me.”
A moment of silence, as the man stands up, wears his cap and jacket.
“Dad? Could you bring me with you?”
Surprise in the eyes of the man, as he blinks twice. A little more digital noise, nothing seriously disturbing. Except a couple red pixels under his eyes. It’s a glitch that lasts for an instant, nothing more.
“To the police station?”
“I want real pictures for my movie! And my school is closed, today!”
Surprise becomes amusement, the man’s hands reaches for the camera holder.
“You know what? Jump in the car. Gotta give you a tour.”
Image fades, recording over. Advance file, new video.
Interior of a car, from the passenger seat. Same man as before, sitting behind the driving wheel.
“Dad, why don’t you have a police car?”
“I can’t take it home, Lann. ‘Sides, why are you filming?”
“Wanted to ask you something and need to document it!”
The man frowns, as his gaze only slightly moves away from the road, just for one instant.
“Document what?”
“This case the news are all about! Are you working on it, dad?”
Silence. Only a soft humming from the electric engine. The lips of the man are sealed shut, he doesn’t even wince. The kid’s voice breaks the standstill.
“I mean Rosenmaester, dad! Everyone’s talking about him! At school too!”
Silence again, as the eye of the policeman twitches imperceptibly.
“Sorry, Lann. Can’t say anything about it, not if you are recording. Switch off that thing first.”
“Is it true that he only kills bad guys? Like, criminals? But then, why are you chasing him?”
“I’ve said, switch off that camera.”
“But dad...”
“Lann, do you want me to tell you or not?”
A high-pitched sigh. The video stops.
Next file.
A huge man, also wearing a police uniform. He’s sitting in a cubicle far too small for him, right at the entrance of a building. Big lips, big eyebrows. Big everything. Made even bigger by the high angle of the camera. Yet, he looks seemingly relaxed.
“You do be Buzz’s little lad, huh?”
A voice from outside the field of view. Same voice as the man in the previous videos.
“Say hi to Jeff, Lann.”
“Hi, Jeff!”
The human mountain nods, waves his hand too, his eyes turn to the man he called Buzz.
“Showing yer little runt our lair?”
“He’s in filming nut mode.”
A wide gesture, pointing his finger to what looks like a wooden door.
“Bring him to Sergei to ask for permission. But don’t sweat it – he likes kids. I’m sure he’ll give him the green light. Just wait a bit for the journos to get off his back.”
“Journos?”
“You haven’t read yer mornin’ paper? Don Chaddo and his cronies are all dead cold.”
A moment of silence. Then, Jeff’s lips open again.
“Sucked dry.”
“Jesus.”
“Huh-huh.”
The camera keeps a high angle, outlining Jeff’s massive figure even more, compared to a kid’s size. The picture shakes for a second, at the mention of sucked dry. It’s almost imperceptible, yet it’s there, in the corner of the eye. One of those small details film critics love to analyze post facto.
“Was it Rosenmaester, Mr. Jeff?”
Another moment of silence, as the pupils of the mountain make contact with the objective.
“Duh, course it was. There ain’t a soul in the British Isles that could outgun the don’s fat neck, but that sneaky bastard had his ways.”
“Not that we’ll miss that mafia pig.”, Buzz chimes in.
Jeff replies by waving his hands and, somehow, smiling.
“Yeah! But this time we have a trail, pal! One of Chaddo’s henchies is unaccounted for and still at large. Name’s Vortag Sch...”
A hand grabs the camera, shuts it down before the name is recorded.
Black picture. End of the record.
New file, new location.
No, wait, same location, just inside. The very same police station. With the very same policeman, Buzz, taking center stage.
“Pa, I’m sorry.”
“Nah, it’s Jeff’s loud mouth. We’ll cut that part together later. But Commissioner Arocco gave you permission to film, as long as you don’t record any sensitive documents... so, do your best, Lann, alright?”
The camera shakes a little, as if it itself nodded. We see the interior, bustling with life, agents, water coolers, coffee mugs, and swearing. Two people, though, look different. Face masks, nitrile gloves, wearing long coats and hair nets. A woman in her fifties, black hair contaminated by several gray strands, walking tall, imposing. She stops for a second, waves her hand towards Buzz.
“Didn’t know today was “bring your pest at work” day, Buzz.”
“Nice as always, huh, Emmelyn?”
The woman bends forward, takes a good look at the camera. We see her inquisitive eyes, surrounded by small wrinkles.
“You shouldn’t trust your father, little squirt. Cops are idiots. Much like my new intern here.”
An annoyed grunt from out of sight. Said intern. Mid-length brown hair, violet irises. Looks annoyed by her remark, but not too much. Buzz seems surprised. We see his eyebrows frowning at that sight.
“Silman? Since when you started working under the har... Dr. Kranzner?”
The man called Silman shrugs. We can’t see his mouth because of the mask, but he might have as well smirked.
“We are short on robot coroners, and I thought it was a nice specialization.”
“Huh. From the biology lab right into the mechanics lab? You do be full of surprises.”
Buzz turns towards the camera, points his finger at the two people in front of him.
“Lann, these are Dr. Kranzner and Silman. They dissect robots that have been forcefully deactivated.”
“With extreme pleasure.”, Emmelyn Kranzner adds a couple seconds later.
The camera shakes, frames a metallic bed with a humanoid figure lying on it. It appears to be a young woman. Dark skin, long blond hair. Yet, something is amiss. Cables, wires. Coming out of her throat. A jolt in the camera.
“She’s... a robot!”
Silman nods, caresses the hair of the automaton, with extreme care.
“Yes! A Kreen Industries KZ model. Limited decisional autonomy, but looks like a human. She even has... well, huh, she’s anatomically correct, I mean. And her skin... feels like the real deal.”
“Simmerik, tell me you didn’t stick your dick inside one of them before.”
Embarrassed silence, as Buzz’s face loses color. Emmelyn Kranzner is pleased about her sagacious quip. Silman, a little bit less.
“Even if I did, that’s not illegal.”
“Says the robophile.”
Buzz sighs, points his fingers at the camera, twice. Dr. Kranzner smiles.
“Afraid we’re tainting your little squirt’s innocence, Buzz? I’m sure he heard worse, at home.”
“Yes. Pa swears a lot, and mom...”
“Lann.”
Ice-cold tone, the discussion is stopped before even starting. Then, Silman speaks again.
“This KZ has probably seen Rosenmaester, back at don Chaddo’s villa. We need to retrieve her black box. Won’t need long, hopefully.”
“It will need long, if you don’t stop chatting, Simmerik. Bring her in, I’ll reach you in a second.”
Dr. Kranzner looks back at the camera.
“Be a good boy and add some wrinkles to my cheeks, in post-production. I hate when I look too young on tape.”
She turns back and walks away. Black screen. End of the recording.
Next file.
A water cooler in the frame, Buzz takes a glass, fills it.
“Want one too, Lann? It ain’t toxic.”
“Thanks dad, I’m fine.”
Close-up on Buzz gulping down the water.
“You know, last year we had a problem with the water supply. Some weird microbes inside it, causing dysentery and other shit-related diseases. It wasn’t fun.”
“I remember it, dad. It was in the news. Cops bring their brown pants at work.”
“That bastard Leo Verrand. I’d break his pen in half and shove it up his... well, you get what I mean.”
The cup crumples in his hand, as his words pause for a second.
“That journo’s a cockroach, I tell you what. It’s the one who christened the killer Rosenmaester, you know? Even if those flowers aren’t roses. Just because it sounded like a good name. And, now, everyone, everyone calls them Rosenmaester. See, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were pissed about it too.”
Close up on the water cooler, on the pile of paper cups.
“So, are there still microbes there? Can I see them if I zoom?”
“Nah, Silman took care of them. That guy is gifted, I tell you what, Lann.”
The camera zooms out, we see a bigger portion of the wall. Stickers, comic strips, even a caricature of Dr. Kranzner.
“Is he good? Really? But he looks so plain!”
“He’s more of a bioengineer, who happens to be a cop – not even a good cop, if you ask me. Still, he graduated with the highest marks from an elite Irish university and won some prizes too. After our brown pants incident, he sanitized our water supply with a chemical compound of sorts. Of course, we had someone else analyze it, ‘cause that guy is... well, yes, a little bit weird. Still, the results were so good that we kept using his additive for our water. We do it every week or so, just to be sure we won’t end up in the news due to... something like that again. The only one who complains is good ol’ Commissioner Arocco. He liked it more when our water was full of gut-twisting microorganisms. He said he was at least losing weight faster.”
Buzz gulps down another glass of water, under the camera’s eye.
“Sure you don’t want one?”
“I’m fine, pa.”
“You scared of Silman’s compound?”
Silence. We see again a small shake in the camera, almost imperceptible, but unquestionably there. Then, the grip is firm again, as Buzz pats Lann’s head, almost off-camera.
“Relax, you’ve already drunk it, Lann. And you are perfectly healthy, right?”
“What?”
“See, the major asked Silman to provide some of his chemical for the city water supply, recently.
He was impressed by how well it worked for our... huh, incident, and election season is coming.
So, yeah, almost everyone in the city has already benefited from it. And I bet the major is boasting about it wherever he can, by now. As if...”
His sentence his cut short. A siren blares, at full volume. We see a red light for a moment in the background, a biohazard sign brought to life, voices, chaos. A door opens with a slam, the camera shifts focus on it, a person comes out, still wearing a laboratory coat. It’s Silman, visibly shocked, gasping for air, his eyes wide open, his hands waving in the direction of the unsealed room.
“Call a doctor! Quick! Emmelyn... Dr. Kranzner...”
“Simmerik, calm down!”
“There was a seed hidden in the robot chest’s cavity! A blood flower seed! And...”
Hand on the camera, the microphone picks up nondescript voices, mangled words. Then, stops.
The recording stops.
Next file.
The last.
A dark room. Some artificial light in the background, making things at least recognizable. It’s a face, a kid’s face.
“Dad’s on duty, they sent him out for an emergency.”
The voice is that of the kid called Lann. We see his face for the first time.
“I can’t sleep. I’m still thinkin’ about what happened this morning. The doctor’s dead.”
A pause. Vehicle noises from the windows, unclear. Maybe cars, maybe trucks. The kid starts talking again.
“I thought Rosenmaester was cool. He targeted bad guys. Pa said that many cops supported him, in secret, the kind of person the world needs. But the doctor wasn’t a bad guy, right?”
Silence, for a short second.
“Pa says that nobody should have that power. What if he decides the police are bad and kills dad? What if he decides everyone is bad and kills them, like the doctor? I’m... scared.”
One more pause. The kid raises his arm, scratches his wrist. Something is causing him evident discomfort.
“Ugh, it itches. Why does it itch?”
The other wrist too. He scratches it. He looks annoyed.
He scratches, scratches, scratches, faster and faster.
Then, a little bump appears. On both of them. First, imperceptible.
Then more and more swollen.
Then, it bursts open.
“M... mama! MAMA!”
The camera falls down, bumps on the bed, then on the carpet.
“MOM! H... HELP! MOM!”
In the artificial light, violet petals. And a red liquid, dripping down.
“H... HEEEEELP! IT HURTS! It... it...”
Screams, cries, shouts, words, whispers, groans, sighs.
Silence.
A hand falls to the side, right in front of the camera.
A beautiful flower in the center of the frame.
A scarlet chrysanthemum.
The only image left, for the following twenty-five minutes.
Before the battery runs out.
And the video ends.
[Files extracted from a sample retrieved in Northern Algol, by a ROPES survey team on May 15, 2064, during the preliminary cleanup operations for the disposal of the Euterpe distortion core. The decomposed body of what looked like a human child was found close to the sample, together with two withered specimens of Chrysantemum algoli. Another body in a similar state of decomposition was observed in an adjacent room. DNA analysis confirmed the two individuals to be related. Cause of death for both of them was determined to be sudden massive blood loss, due to the growth of the aforementioned C. algoli. The full report can be accessed with a clearance level A3 or above. Contact detective Veckert Rainer for further inquiries.]