Amara Qasim

= Suspect 4018-D = As logged by by Leitenant Carmen Po and Officer Yves St.James.

Name:
Amara Qasim

Gender:
Female

Species:
Human with unknown genetic modifications.

Race:
Unknown. Claims to be of Maharein parents but could not find it on a map when asked. Looks Middle Eastern.

Age:
28.

Height:
6 foot.

Build:
Thin. Muscular.

Eyes:
Brown.

Hair:
Black.

Prologue "Suspect Record"
Suspect was apprehended on the roof of Tower 9 by armed patrol unit Kx38 at 19:53 on 29/02/2238

Suspect was attempting to board the furnicular when she triggered sensor alarms as a fugitive.

Suspect appears nervous on DCTV footage.

Suspect surrendered upon sight and was darted to bring her in for questioning.

Suspect was searched and found to be transporting contraband microchips and encrypted data-saves and carried stolen documents.

Suspect awoke from darting within 40 minutes and was aware of her surroundings and calm but confused when spoken to.

Suspect claims microchips and data-saves are neither contraband nor illegal. Suspect further claims the information she was carrying is of vital importance and asked us not to damage it. Suspect would not however reveal the nature of the information of the microchips or data-saves.

Suspect does not appear on databases and is not a known fugitive. Due to potential terrorist related activity and for being an unknown, suspect is being kept in custody.

Suspect would not co-operate by sharing passwords and entry points for the microchips and data-saves. Technical haven't been able to extract any information as yet and state they are not written to a known operating system. Technical are awaiting instruction as to whether or not to build a quantum operating system to gain access.

Suspect claims to be Amara Qasim as written on her documents but scans of the documents show they are forgeries.

Suspect claims to be a citizen of the Six Cities. When told of the dissolvement and the imprisonment of Her Royal Elected Highness on treason charges 9 months prior, suspect claimed we were 'having her on' as she had 'been to the recoronation' after charges against HREH had been dropped. Suspect then sat in silence ignoring questioning for several minutes, laughed to herself briefly and said 'Shit'.

Suspect is being handed over to Psychiatric upon their arrival.

Suspect could not answer as to the nature of her genetic modifications, claiming she had no knowledge of having any. When shown printouts of her biometric scans with circled anomolies, suspect grinned and said 'Cool'.

Suspect claims to be a programmer with Z-core but no evidence of her working there has been found and her claimed position there [worker #Zeta-dep 6894, Developement sector 7, project: Urba planado] is not one which exists.

Suspect appears to be telling the truth according to bioscanners recording during the interview. Psychiatric have arrived in the building and the interview is terminated at 20:20 so suspect can be handed over.

Interview conducted by Leitenant Carmen Po and Officer Yves St.James

Part One: The Call
Commander Jyoti Kincaed is day dreaming about Flatland again. To be a simpler life form, like a flick book stick figure amidst her sea of type sheets, forms and desk fodder; how she'd scale evidence forms leaping up the page on overhanging paragraphs and battle with the burned splotches and lines the thermoprint left on pages. There increasingly often now since they were denied a new printscan machine. How much simpler life would be without having to deal with humans and their infinite problems. She could slide down J's and fly across pages and pothole down the side of run on sentences hanging off a gently singed rope of misprinted underline. And when it all became too much, she could climb into an @ and fall asleep cosily on top of that 'a'. Flatland was, compared to the chaos and bureaucracy of being a Commanding Enforcer, was paradise.

Startlingly loud her comm rang and rattled from inside the desk beneath her elbows. The only things in the drawer were her guns and her personal comm and her comm (like her gun) should have been on silent, which added to the startling affect. Jyoti actually couldn't remember the last time she'd heard her comm ring, usually she only checked it a few times a day for messages and only picked up for Sunday evening calls from her mother.

It took her a moment to fumble amongst her keytags to find the right one to press against the lock, which in turn took a frustratingly long time to process the scrap of personalized nano scale chemical reaction which was the bio signiture key, and release the bolt with an encreasingly slow and squeaking clunk.

She wondered if the comm would still be ringing by the time the drawer was accessible. It was now a race, a personal challenge to receive the comm contact before whoever it was gave up cut the line. The lock beeped and finally, the drawer rolled open. Picking the now ridiculously loudly trilling comm Jyoti noted the lack of dialer information and well, any information at all on it's screen. Thinking it was just glitching again with some conflicted security measure on the building or something she ignored it and answered anyway.

"You have a suspect in custody named Amara Qasim who is not only incredibly inportant but is in serious danger. You cannot allow her to be taken by the psychiatric crew."

The voice was female, familiar, urgent. It almost hurt to listen to it was so familiar- it rattled in her brain the same way the comm trill had. This lady sounded serious though, serious and for some reason trust worthy and Jyoti did not feel trust easily or lightly. The pause was breif, as soon as Jyoti had a moment to process line crackled and hissed and the spoke again.

"-Jyoti, this is life and death- your life and death; you have to get Amara Qasim out of the station before she's intercepted. Take her to the house we were safe in when the soldiers came. Go now! They almost have her!"

And dial tone.

That voice. What in Darja's Frel?!

And the only people who knew about the soldiers and that house were dead, or Jyoti herself- she'd been 6 and it was at the height of the worst battling of the civil war.

It was a two day journey north too, more if she was going to actually do this and evade the Enforcement.

She hadn't consciously realised that since the comm had ended, she'd packed her desk, holstered her two guns and put her jacket on. She caught herself in the mirror on the back of the door as she left her office.

"What on Darja's earths am I doing?"

But she kept going and increased her pace to a jog as she got down the corridor and to the stairwell.

Maybe it was a trick of the inner ear or mind or something which blocked Jyoti from realising, the voice on the comm- had been hers.

She was too late. Frell and keswa!

When she'd arrived at the interview suites instead of finding this Amara Qasim who was apparently and mysteriously so important to her now, she found two enforcement crew finalising their write up of the interview which Jyoti reasoned, they must have just completed. Catching the female enforcers eye she barked:

-"Amara Qasim"

-"Just left with the Psych dispatch, sir."

-"Is that your writeup of her interview, enforcer?"

They both nodded at her, were they afraid of her?

-"Write up. Don't worry if it's not done, you won't be reprimanded."

Again they nodded at her and Jyoti rationed it was probably healthy for them to be afraid of her, considering in her position she could easily dissapear them and everyone who ever knew them. Then again, she was about to do something irrationally, career killingly frelled in the name of a voice on a comm and some criminal. Maybe that was even scarier?

"Print document and send a copy to my comm." This Jyoti barked at the rooms computer. The printer buzzed and her work comm vibrated once against her collarbone.

"Which bay did psych get clearence to park in, respond to my biometric." Her bm, a tiny dot in her ear of nanotech told her and she grabbed the printout as she started to run.

As she sprinted through the cubical farm past hundreds of enforcement who busily ignored her and clacked away doing their slog on the type floor, she asked her collarbone comm to play the interview and arrest transcript.

Name: Amara Qasim

Gender: Female

Species: Human with unknown genetic modifications.

Race: Unknown. Claims to be of Maharein parents but could not place Maharein on a map when asked. Looks Middle Eastern. Pointed to Palestine and said it was the wrong shape.

Age: 28. Hieght: 6 foot. Build:  Thin. Muscular. Eyes: Brown. Hair: Black.

Suspect was apprehended on the roof of Tower 9 by armed patrol unit Kx38 at 19:53 on 29/02/2238

Suspect was attempting to board the furnicular when she triggered sensor alarms as a fugitive.

Suspect appears nervous on CCTV footage.

Suspect surrendered upon sight and was darted to bring her in for questioning.

Suspect was searched and found to be transporting contraband microchips and encrypted data-saves and carried stolen documents.

Suspect awoke from darting after 40 minutes and was aware of her surroundings and calm but confused when spoken to. Interview commenced at 20.33.

Suspect is asked to provide her stats and was questioned when she mentioned her race. Leitenant Po called up a map to prove Maharien didn't exist and was proven right.

Suspect appears confused and asks if the borders and powers have in the last several days changed in that area and is informed the location she pointed to on the map had been stable and in peacetime for almost a century

Suspect moves on, claims microchips and data-saves are neither contraband nor illegal. Suspect further claims the information she was carrying is work she was taking home to complete and asked us not to damage it as there was only one copy for security reasons.

Suspect would not reveal the nature of the information of the microchips or data-saves claiming Non Disclosure Agreements.

Suspect does not appear on databases and is not a known fugitive, suspect is being resubmitted to the search engine as this in unlikely.

Suspect would not co-operate by sharing passwords and entry points for the information she was smuggling. Technical haven't been able to extract any information as yet and state the datasaves are not compatible to any operating system they have access to. Technical are awaiting instruction as to whether or not funds will be allocated to to build a quantum operating system to gain access.

Suspect claims to be Amara Qasim as written on her documents but scans of the documents show they are forgeries.

Suspect claims to be a citizen of the Six Cities. When told of the dissolvement and the imprisonment of Her Royal Elected Highness on treason charges 9 months prior, suspect claimed we were 'having her on' as she had 'been to the recoronation' after charges against HREH had been dropped. Suspect then sat in silence ignoring questioning for several minutes, laughed to herself briefly and said 'Shit'.

Suspect is being handed over to Psychiatric upon their arrival.

Suspect could not answer as to the nature of her genetic modifications, claiming she had no knowledge of having any. When shown printouts of her biometric scans with circled anomolies, suspect grinned and said 'Cool'.

Suspect claims to be a programmer with Z-core but no evidence of her working there has been found and her claimed position there [worker #Zeta-dep 6894, Developement sector 7, project: Urba planado] is not one which exists.

Suspect appears to be telling the truth according to bioscanners recording during the interview. Psychiatric have arrived in the building and suspect will now be handed over.

The interview is terminated at 21:19. Cameras 211, 334, 336, 336, 867 and 895 have corroborating footage of the arrest, transport and interview.

Interview conducted by Leitenant Carmen Po and Officer Yves St.James

Part Two: The Cleansing
Jyoti left work through rear entrance where the scanners were broken, she didn't want to get docked credits for leaving work early, especially after recent events. Jumping in her Delta car she took to the ever amber skies of Gaelen City going over the call in head over and over, who is it that could know all about her past, by all digital records it was non existence, the Tribunal had made sure of that.

As the city moved in a steady rhythm bellow her like, it seemed to lose depth and she could only see it has just an endless flat plane, like a netpage she was scrolling on down at work in a zombie like fashion to kill time.

Suddenly another Delta car on that flat plane nearly cascaded into her, not so flat after all, an she wildly veered up into the next vertical lane, barely escaping with her life. What was with her lately, it was as if those dreams of the 2D world had lingered with her.

Eventually she reached her living cube, just as it sounded a metal box intersected amid a stack of about 2000 others, modular, efficient, and completely without character. She did her best to make the interior her own, but she would never capture the sense of home that she had long ago felt in the Five Cities, if that was ever real.

Working efficiently around the room to gather everything she would need, opening up the 0-space void drawers from the flat planes on the walls, the netvid screen blinked into existence from its projection point. It was only programmed to turn on automatically if there was an alert; her name, her work, or Jacobi... She prayed it wasn't the latter as her heart temporarily stopped.

It was a new report, it was her work. They were all dead.

Holotron terrorists were suspected, the entire building - the building was literally in less than 25 minutes ago - was a smoldering glowing hot mess of slag and plasma. As her legs gave way and she fell to sitting on her bed a list of the dead scrolled over the bottom of the screen. All those people. All those lives. Gone.

Then she blinked.

Commander Jyoti Kincaed, Third Rank.

That was her.

She was dead.

Well the whole planet was now being told she was - she had left without being scanned, they thought she was in the building.

A strange slow torrent of cold and hot washed over her insides, as if her body didn't know how to react and was in flux.

She no longer existed, not at this very moment.

Was this good?

Wait, Amara. This couldn't be a coincidence, this had to do with Amara. Someone was trying to kill Jyoti to stop her... maybe. He head was spinning and she suddenly realized she was pacing aground the 12 by 12 room.

It was all too much to take in, but she as not a rookie. Think Flel Damnit.

Wait, wha-  ?

Record scratch.

Back track.

Repeat crash.

What crash?

Oh.

Tires screech and before my eyes I centre up on a telegraph pole, getting closer at alarming speed and I can't seem to lift my foot off the metal. A horn blares and someones screaming. I'm screaming.

Impact.

The sedan slams into the side of my corvette, metal screams with me and the explosive crumple of our cars combining to wrap around this telegraph pole like tinsel. My mother always said I should wear my seatbelt.

The steering wheel crushes my ribs as I'm thrown against it and get stuck halfway through the windscreen, a bloody, twitching mess. I can't feel any pain yet, I must be in shock. I look down at myself and wonder if-

Back track.

Repeat crash.

What crash?

Oh.

I'm speeding to get to Katy's house before her mom gets home. She's all I can think about right now. The stereo is blasting and I'm buzzed, it's Friday night and if I can steal my baby before mommy dearest knows she's gone- we can spend the night together and Katy can tell her-

I hardly notice the front tires going over the first rail.

I do notice the noise though. it's drowning out my tunes man, not cool airhorn kid on the side of the track---ssshhhhiiit.

My window goes from late afternoon sunlight to dark and fast and pain and noise in under a second.

I hear the train tear through my car, then my body.

Lucky I didn't feel that eh? That could've been-

Back track.

Repeat crash.

I'm two burning lines on a white plain. We're heading towards each other, I know this but I can't see it. Everything is thrumming and clunking. Suddenly vectors collide and I am now one X not two colliding entities. There's no pain, we, I, just are now.

My world cumples and shreiks and the thrumming strains and many worlds beneath mine fight for one plain and crinkle and

"Fucking Printers Jammed Again Marv. You Gotta Get This Fixed Boy. Whaddo-I Pay You For?"

Back track.

Part 2 Again: Elevated Spirits.
it was while Jyoti was stuck in the lift that several very big thoughts managed to crash into her mind at once. The visual metaphor of a car crash- like with two of those retro road driving cars was apt.

The first thing which hit her, was that she'd finally recognised that voice on the comm. This happened a split second after she'd notified maintanance that she was stuck in the lift again. The voice on the comm had been hers talking to her.

The second thing, which collided head on with the first was that she was sure she'd just been in a Delta flying down a mainlane somewhere with yellow sky and not only this- which in itself was not only fantastical and science fiction- but she'd almost been hit by another Delta.

Thing three which had curved in blindly from the left without checking any of the mirrors, windows or that little box that says 'organ donor' was that she, Jyoti Kincaed was stuck in the lift.

Thing three worried her most right now. Not out of any sort of claustrophobic tendancies either.

The comm call she could pass off as some sort of hypnogic hallucination- she'd probably heard Amaras name somewhere and her mind, in some self important delusion had pieced together the rest. The intense vision of crashing, tearing metal and every fiber of her existance jamming up and dying; could be the reminants of this hypnogogic hallucination flushing its chemicals through her brain and throwing up scenarios of traumatic versions of her best dreams.

Jyoti had always wanted to drive, the freedom of the road and all that just seemed so romantic. Not that vehicles ever worked when she got in them though. Ever. Like she'd played this game with 3 driving instructor institutions- betting them she wouldn't ever be able to switch the ignition up before the car was written off as a clunker. She'd made over 3000 credits on that one too before she began to feel sorry for the driving schools losing money.

Even bicycles- the simplest of manually propelled transportation would freeze up and just not work for her.

So why the frel had she, in a supposed rush to save this damsel in distress on cammand of her own damn voice down a comm for frels sake, taken the elevator?

Maintenance freed her pretty quickly. She'd only ever even used an elevator once before, when she transfered to the 29th floor of Second City Enforcement and was too hung over to face the climb.

She had ended up upchucking the reminants of last nights gin and tacos in the corner of the lift before maintenance had got to her that day. And she had filed away the usage of lifts to that 'not an option, kiddo' folder in her brain and moved on.

She grinned sheepishly when the chains supporting the little silver box she was in groaned with labour as she ascended back up the 10 feet of so to 29 and the doors winched open by hairy male janitor arms.

"Thanks buddy! I don't know what we'd ever do with out you." Even as she said it she registered how incredibly condescending it sounded, so she sped up a bit and power walked to the end of the corridor and into her office-

-where three guys from psych were sitting on or behind her desk.