Dave steps into the office, looks for a chair. The second pile of boxes he looks under hides a chair and he moves them and sits. Frank pays him no mind, keeps rifling through the file in front of him.

Dave slouches. Puts a foot up on Frank’s desk, on top of a stack of papers.

“Don’t,” Frank says without looking up. Dave leaves his foot there. Finally, Frank closes the file and tosses it at Dave.

“Whatcha got?”

It’s an illustrated story – Dave looks at printouts from the crime scene while Frank narrates.

“Man in diner, middle-aged, wife, kids, job, standard hardware and upgrades. Orders eggs for lunch, eats, starts talking to himself. Takes his butter knife and sticks himself. Nonfatal, but his brainware goes to shit and triggers a pulmonary. Looks like suicide.”

“Except?”

“Sixth one this month.”

“So Captain Floyd calls in the papermen.”

The last two guys in the department with no mods, the last two guys using 20th-century tech.

The only guys on the force who can’t be hacked.