Next of Kin

Chapter One

One

I woke with the words “visual data share pending” legible in glowing blue on my eyelids. I made the mistake of trying to rub the tired out of my eyes. My OLED contacts scratched, and I whimpered; they were still first-gen, not like the fancy implants most people got to today. I was trying to save up for my upgrade, but on a tutor’s salary, it was taking time.

I got a message notification, set to alert me as soon as I woke up. I opened the note. “We regret to inform you of your brother’s death. The cause would appear to be violence. You have our condolences.”

God. That meant I was going to have to call mom. She was going to be a wreck.

I didn’t want to talk to her- but it wasn’t the kind of thing you did over email. And worse, it probably wasn’t enough to do voicechat- I was going to have to include video.

But before I could so much as look for a shirt, I got another message notification, high priority, this one marked as official.

“In accordance with the Law Enforcement Corruption and Citizen Responsibility Act (LECCRA), law enforcement officials’s mandate to investigate law breaking was scaled back to include only crimes in progress, or police corruption. Per the LECCRA, nonprogressive crimes are investigated by a deputized citizen advocate, a.k.a., the victim of the crime. If the victim is incapable, due to death, injury or other handicap, of investigating the crime, their next of kin will be deputized in their stead. Investigation of a reported crime is mandatory. Failure to investigate to the satisfaction of an audience of your peers will result in a charge of obstruction of justice, and potentially render you an accomplice after the fact to the crime under investigation.

“For your convenience, law enforcement professionals have prepared a handbook to familiarize the advocate with investigative best practices and techniques. The handbook will progressively unlock, allowing you to peruse information applicable to your investigation as it becomes necessary.

“We regret the circumstances that have rendered you an advocate, but wish you a pleasant day.”

The message overlaid across my vision changed from “pending” a visual data share to “achieved.” A popup anchored to the right side of my vision, labeled “audience rating.” It was marked “0.00%” with an asterisk attached to note that data was pending.

A message flashed in blue at the bottom of my vision, “Investigator Tip: Witnesses are more cooperative with an advocate who presents him or herself cleanly and professionally.” Like a Pavlovian dog, I sniffed myself, without raising my arms.

“Yep,” I said, “definitely ripe.”

I walked into the bathroom, and dropped my shorts. Since I was going to take a shower, anyway, I didn't need them, so I kicked them into the hall. Then I looked down, to aim while I peed. There was a ding in my ear, vibrating from my jaw, and my rating flickered, and updated. The background flashed from light blue to red, and stopped at 37%.

Another message flashed on the screen. “Investigator Tip: Audiences hate to see an advocate’s genitals. To prevent audience dissatisfaction, you can temporarily halt the video stream while going to the bathroom, or try the new privacy auto-censoring app (beta).”

“Crap,” I said, and my rating dropped a few more points.

“Investigator Tip: Audiences do not appreciate profanity, up to and including 'soft profanity' like nuts, crap, and heck. They will be more tolerant of third-party profanity, but excessive swearing by individuals in proximity to an advocate has been shown to lower an audience’s overall approval of the advocate by association.”

“That was timely,” I said, annoyed at the information coming after it would have been helpful.

I stepped under the shower, and water poured from the ceiling. Through the water I could also see my genitals, so I focused in the bottom left corner of my vision, to activate my interface options. There was a new interface related to deputized citizen advocacy under the heading DCA. I activated the privacy function, and I started washing myself.

When I started to rinse off, I glanced down. The censoring app pixelated my penis, but to somewhat ruin the effect, overlaid the word “penis” over it. I looked at the wall, then put my hand in front of my genitals, and dangled my penis in front of it and looked back down. The app pixelated my hand at first, then the printed the words, “not a penis” over top of it, and the pixelation disappeared. There was a delay when I took my hand away from my genitals, and the program wasn't sure what it was looking at, and displayed “penis?” before the pixelation returned, and the question mark disappeared. I told myself it was because the app was still in beta- not that I had anything to be concerned about.

I noticed my approval rating dipped to 34% percent.

“Sorry,” I said, “guess that privacy app isn't ready for the big time.” My rating adjusted up to 42%, though I realized that was probably because people thought I was making a dick joke.

I finished rinsing quickly, and dressed. I combed my hair, and brushed my teeth. I was stalling. I didn't want the day to start, for any of this to be real. But my brother wasn't coming back, and as I inspected my nose hairs in the mirror I could watch as my approval numbers plunged deeper into the toilet.

So I connected a call to my mother, and waited for her to come on the line. “Mom,” I said softly.

“I just paid my electricity,” she said, “and I'm already eating nothing but potatoes as it is this month.”

“That's not why I'm calling.”

“I can see you,” she said, and blinked at me. “You never video call me.”

“It's about John. He died, mom.”

“Naturally?” she asked, as her eyes welled up with tears.

I swallowed. “I'm investigating his homicide.”

Her eyes got wide. “So we're on camera. People can see me? Why would you tell me while people can see me?” She hung up abruptly, and my rating dropped again, to 35%.

“Investigator Tip: You can mute the audience for thirty seconds when informing loved-ones of a crime; it gives them a moment to compose themselves, and to decline further observation if they choose. Audience's react positively to this treatment, and have described it in surveys as 'humane.'”

“Always know how to kick me in the stones while I'm down,” I muttered.