ＳＩＮＧＵＬＡＲＩＴＹ ２１０１: Ⱥ NɆØ-ĦᵾNŦɆɌ ȻĦɌØNƗȻŁɆ

Chapter 3: A Crack In The Case

Upon my arrival in Pasadena, I sought out the nearest bar, nestled in the heart of District 13, just west of the main venue. The place looked a bit lively according to the reviews, a bit too much for my taste, but it had decent ratings. What caught my attention, however, was the fact that they allowed smoking indoors. In an area where only a handful of bars still permitted this, it was a rare find. Technically, indoor smoking is illegal, but it seemed no one was in a rush to enforce this law. I couldn't help but think that if a corporation had any reason to meddle with these small businesses, they would use any excuse, including this one, to shut them down. I've seen it happen before in my line of work.

I parked my car in the mega-structure parking garage situated directly above the bar. The parking system in this city was far superior to that of San Diego. They called it high-density parking. After scanning my badge for free city-wide parking, my car was swiftly loaded into the condensed parking area, a system that stacked cars efficiently on top of one another. Quite a nifty trick, I must say. I then took the elevator down to the ground floor where the bar, or rather Club Nexus, was located.

As I navigated through the city, I felt like just another face in the crowd, a silhouette against the neon glow from the street lights. The city was a sprawling metropolis, a labyrinth of towering skyscrapers and winding alleyways. The air was thick with the scent of street food and synthetic spices from the street vendors. The hum of electricity was my constant companion, as the city played to the beat of its own drum.

I made my way to the bar, a place of solace in this world of chaos. The streets were slick with rain, reflecting the kaleidoscope of neon lights. Holographic billboards flickered overhead, advertising the latest tech and synthetic pleasures. The city was alive, a pulsating organism of steel and light. Cybernetically enhanced individuals passed by, their mechanical limbs coming in all colors, a testament to their individuality in a world where humanity and technology have become indistinguishable. The divide between the rich and the poor was stark, evident in the quality of their augmentations.

Club Nexus was a beacon in the heart of Pasadena, its bright neon light spilling onto the wet pavement as I approached the double doors. "I hope they have bourbon," I muttered to myself. The air inside was thick with smoke and the clinking of glasses. The bartender, a young attractive woman with auburn hair, gave me a nod of recognition as I took a seat at the counter. I surveyed the place before settling down. There were a few dancers up on stage, making the place feel almost like a strip club. I signaled the bartender. "I'll take a bourbon, please. On the rocks." After a few moments, she returned with my drink and slid it over to me. "That'll be $25.50." I slid my cred chip over the scanner, paid the establishment, and grabbed my drink. I nodded at the bartender and made my way through the crowd to find a seat. It was still early in the day, so there was plenty of seating available.

The establishment was bathed in neon light, attracting a much younger crowd, which wasn't a bad thing considering they were probably at home sleeping off last night's bender. I pulled out my data pad, flicked it to pop out the screen, and began to cycle through all the photos taken by LISA. I reached into my pockets, feeling around for my cigarettes without taking my eyes off the screen . I felt the pack brush against my hand within my deep coat pocket, so I secured them and pulled the pack out, instantly packing them in one fell swoop, and popped a cig into my mouth, followed by lighting it. I took a sip of my bourbon, which was a double. Kudos to the bartender, not a bad price either. I cycled through the pictures to see if any were captured of the so-called Nancy. Perhaps we could run facial recognition software to locate her.

She must know something, or else why would she flee like that? Going over each and every photo was a bit time-consuming, but I had a little time to kill, plus it was pertinent to the case. I polished off my drink and flagged over a cocktail waitress. She strolled over and asked, "What can I get you, stranger?" "I'll take another bourbon on the rocks, please. This time pull my shit from the top of the shelf. Whatever that was, it wasn't bourbon." "You got the money for top shelf, hun?" I looked at her with an annoyed look on my face. "Just bring me the drink, lady. I have the creds." A few moments later, she returned with my drink. I expressed my gratitude and left her and the bartender a 20% tip. "Why, thank you kindly, sir," she said with a smile. She was a shorter girl, with brunette hair, fair skin, and green eyes.