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.
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.”
“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.