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Let the Robo-vacuum get it
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I began to kneel to pick up the bit of freeze-dried hybrid mango that I had so rudely dropped on the carpet

“Don’t worry about it, the Robo-vaccum’ll get it,” my host so graciously assured me. I absolutely hated wasting freeze-dried mango; it was my weakness, just one of the myriad of temptations I succumbed to. I could not say no to sugary bright orange slices of the tropical fruit.

“Right,” I stammered and reverted back to my full 6’3” stature. I had not yet grown accustomed to the lifestyle of the outrageously wealthy in the new city. As a humble young journalist, I only sought the basics in life. Although I suppose a robo-vaccum wasn’t really anything new or lavish, but my apartment in the heart of the old sector did not contain such luxuries. In fact, after my dishwasher began sputtering a few years back, I have yet to get a replacement. According to my friends I was a Neanderthal, still living in the early 2000′s.

My host sat, legs-crossed on the red micro-fiber sofa of the minimalist style that the young wealth had embraced. I interviewed the up-and-coming originator of the movement the other week.

“Trey Phan, right?”

“What?” she responded absent-mindedly as her drink refilled itself. “Oh right. Paul loves this type of shit.” She crossed her legs again, this time left over right.

“Well that’s a good segue into the article. What’s it like living with Paul, arguably the premier architect of the new sector, and the definitely the youngest?”

“It’s great. He’s been gone a lot lately surveying different sectors all over the grid, but we make it work.”

“How did you two first meet?”

“I don’t know if he’ll like that I’m telling this, but actually a Pilates class. It was the summer before my senior year of college, and Paul joined my class. I didn’t know who he was then, but always thought he was cute.”

My handheld recorded each question and each answer with ease. Letters and words popped up on the screen at breakneck speeds. This was probably the only high-tech item I possessed. Suddenly, it stopped. I looked down at my handheld. I felt a ray coming in and sure enough my handheld began to vibrate.

“I’m really sorry, but I gotta take this.” I stepped onto their balcony overlooking the arrays of glass buildings, many of which Paul himself designed. A little image of my boss appeared, “First murder in the new sector. You’re the closest one there, so I need you on the scene. I know you normally only cover A&E, but sorry man, you’re the closest to the scene, so I need you there. You know I don’t want to do this, because damn, Liz sure is a hottie.”

My boss was one of those sexual-harassment types. This is why he wasn’t out doing the field work. I went back into the house.

“Sorry Liz, but I got to fly. You know how it is. Can we reschedule?” I asked apologetically and grabbed my jacket.

“Oh yea sure, not a problem. I’m not sure when I’ll be available next though. I’ll be working on the line and the benefit for the next few weeks. Just shoot me a ray, and I’ll see what I can do.” She downed her fourth glass.

“Thanks so much,” and I quickly left. Heading down to the area where the murder occurred, the streets got continually dirtier. Brand new sky-rises looked abandoned. Kevlar windows were scratched up and gratified over. The new sector wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. This I would soon find out.