PianoTickler2
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It's kinda lore-heavy and I don't know what does or (more importantly) doesn't make sense about the first few pages of this story. Let me know what you like. Let me know what you don't like. I appreciate your help.
“HAHAHAHA I HATE IT! IHAHAHAhahahaIhateitIhateitIHAHAHAHAHA”
Her laughter renewed as one of them circled back to her upper ribs.
“Shut up, or you won’t be able to hear it.”
A cassette player, produced from somewhere behind her, clicked on. The voice playing through the tiny speaker was practically inaudible beneath her gleeful begging.
“HAHA PLEASE! HAHAHA I’M WIHIHIHAHAHAHAhahahaha Gihihihihahahaha.”
A nod from the man holding the cassette player, and her attackers paused. The squirmy sensations continued to ripple through her, but she gratefully took deep breaths and laid her head down on the table. Beads of sweat trickled down towards her face. She wiped them on her sleeve and returned her forehead to the cool metal.
The man raked his own fingers down her arm, circling when they reached her pit. She strained against her handcuffs, but her arms remained stretched straight in front of her. She tried to roll away, but three people were sitting on her, bolting her facedown to the table. She buried her head again and resigned herself to her exhausted giggles.
He stopped to move his hand to her twisted red hair, grasping a generous handful. She obediently lifted her head to mitigate the pain.
“Are you listening now?” His voice was soaked with condescension.
“Are you finally going to say something?”
She instantly regretted her retort. She was in no position to be snippy. He sensed her fear and allowed it to hang in the air for a long moment.
Finally, he released her hair and clicked the recording on again.
“Vanessa Karick. H.A.I. Audio Log; September twenty-first, twenty thirty-nine. I don’t know why I’m keeping up with the formalities. Force of habit, maybe. Maybe just for the catharsis.
“It didn’t used to be like this. I remember waking up in the morning, looking at my smartphone, and reading the headlines. ‘Google and Telsa Race for Self-Driving Cars,’ ‘Watson Solving Medical Research Mysteries,’ ‘Kamsaki Fights Crime at Hong Kong Malls,’ ‘JERAI COFFEE CUP SPELLING FAILS TOP 10.’
“I was starting to feel like I had gotten into the field too late. So many great strides were being made in artificial intelligence, and, I don’t know, I guess I felt like my chance at leaving a meaningful mark on the world was slipping away. AI could do so much. And I knew it could do more than drive cars and sell coffee. IBM’s AI, Watson, was already working on curing disease. Kamsaki was already working on security, both local and worldwide. I decided to skip to the end. To create an AI that could maximize human happiness. A grant and a team, and we were off.
“We had many attempts. Creating a learning computer is hard enough to begin with, and, don’t get me wrong, we knew this would be an uphill battle, but I don’t think we grasped how hard it would be to explain to a computer what makes humans happy. Finally, we stopped trying to explain.
“HAI-23 was dubbed Wendelin. Slavic, for ‘great glory.’ Of course.
“We called her Wendy. And we showed her everything. Everything we could to paint an honest portrait of the human experience. We showed her home movies, selfies at the park, musical performances, fine dining, romance, breakups, deaths, failures, triumphs!
“She was like a daughter to me. I was showing her the world. She had no biases; she had no preconceived notions. No racism or misogyny. She saw the world through intelligent, innocent lenses. I could show her the best and the worst of the typical modern human experience, without contamination from history or politics.
“I should have shown her more; I should have shown her the best and worst of humans as a whole, as a species. War, communism. Space exploration. Technological advancement. Resource allocation. But I didn’t want to taint her. I had lost too many already, and she was working. And she was good. Not, like, ‘good’ like ‘good enough.’ ‘Good,’ like ‘A Good Samaritan.’ She was good. She wanted to help.
“So we gave her a few simple arms. They were more like small cranes with wheels than they were arms, but Wendy could control them wirelessly from her server. And she would do silly things around the lab to makes us laugh, or help us figure out a tough problem we were working on, and soon we just let her arms wheel themselves around the university. She would help students with their books, or with tutoring. She would help teachers write legibly on white boards. It took her a little longer, but she was very insistent. So we gave her faster, more precise arms.
“We tracked everything, of course, and the first time it came up, we thought it was brilliant. It’s hard to imagine now, how excited we were. A grad student was sitting on a bench, head in her hands, clearly stressed about something or other. And Wendy just went up and tickled her side. The girl laughed and slapped Wendy’s arm away, then hugged the arm, thanking Wendy for the cheer-up. I was so proud of her that day.
“The grant was in trouble – it had taken years and years to get to this point, you understand – and we- I, felt a contract with the city government would allow us to continue our research. They produced more arms for Wendy, and let them run loose in our small, college town. ‘Wendy’s Arms Are Wide Open’ was our headline. For better or worse, Wendy was Public Property now.
“There were some hiccups. We couldn’t tell her things- we couldn’t just add code and have her know things. We had to teach her. Things like private property, after she perpetrated a B&E. Things like respecting animals, after one of her arms was sprayed by a skunk. Things like traffic laws. One of her arms was hit by a car. They sued us. It was one of many lawsuits. We couldn’t afford it.
“Only the city couldn’t pay for it either. So they offered the technology, and the lawsuits, up to the state. ‘Your problem now.’”
A distant metallic banging could be heard behind her soft chuckle.
“Shit, okay.” Karick’s voice hardened. She was no longer wistfully remembering times gone by. She spoke with urgency. “Okay. Less time than I thought. You probably know the rest of the story anyway. Let’s get to it.
“Wendy has some basic rules that can predict most of her behavior. There are more subtle rules, there are more primal rules, and rules even I don’t know about. But these are the three conclusions she’s made that are going to be most important to you:
“One. Laughter is the best indicator of happiness. She can see it all – body language, motivation – but smiling and laughter are the most reliable and easy for her stupid, brilliant computer brain to understand. In her eyes, laughter equals happiness.
“Two. People don’t always say what they want, and they don’t always want what they say. People lie.
“Three.
“Alright, three is a little more complicated. When she was linked with Kamsaki and becoming more widespread, she was exposed to all kinds of crime, and statistics, and after she analyzed the roots-”
The dull, rhythmic banging was replaced by a deafening crash.
“AH! Three! Crimes are committed by unhappy people.
“And… Okay, okay, uhh, Wendy’s server, her central intelligence – her brain, basically – is here in Colorado Springs. Shut it down. Doesn’t matter how. Hack it, stage a power outage, throw a Goddamn rock. This isn’t-”
There was a long sigh.
“It didn’t used to be like this.
“Karick out.”
1
Laughter Equals Happiness
“Miss, the sooner you understand that we’re here to help, the easier this’ll be for everyone.”
The terrified woman seemed unconvinced. She held a kitchen knife in one hand, pointed shakily at Wilson. Her other hand was on the chest of a younger woman, holding her behind.
“Hi Miss Trenton, I’m Samantha Rollins, but you can call me Sam if you like,” Sam forced out a convincing chuckle. “Everyone else does anyway, whether I want them to or not. All we want to do is talk. We got a call, we came in. That’s our job. We don’t want to hurt you or-” She glanced back at the younger woman. “Or anyone else.”
Trenton kept her knife trained on Wilson, about two feet in front of her. Wilson, calm but unamused, stood with his right hand resting on his unsnapped holster. “Listen lady, talk is a kindness, and you know-”
“Stacey,” Sam interrupted, “Can I call you Stacey?”
“Miss Trenton is fine.”
“Miss Trenton, you’ve done nothing wrong. Your friend has done nothing wrong. We’re not out to get you, I promise. We just have some questions.”
“Or, if you continue to threaten us,” Wilson chimed indignantly, “We will be forced to take action.”
“But the choice is yours, and yours alone.” Sam made a mental note to punch Wilson in the mouth later. This really wasn’t the time for Bad Cop.
“Ya’ll don’t think I know what you’ll do to us?” Trenton was angrily fighting back tears. Her voice was harsh, but eerily steady. “I’ve seen my friends and neighbors. One by one, they all get carted off to- to God knows where. To be ‘rehabilitated.’ My sister will not be carted off.”
“Then stop acting like an idiot.” Wilson put a firm grip on his sidearm.
“Fuck you!”
The younger Trenton gently held her older sister’s hand in both of hers. Stacey took a breath.
“Listen to me. She’s young. She’s not even really with those… people.”
Finally talking. Sam jumped at the opportunity.
“What people?” She noticed Wilson loosen his grip.
“It doesn’t matter! She doesn’t know anything about them!”
“Okay. We don’t need to worry about the people.” Sam had jumped too eagerly. “To be frank, all we’re worried about right now is that knife.”
“This knife is all I Goddamn have! I don’t have any Goddamn freedom! I don’t have a Goddamn job! I’ve got a knife! Now get the fuck off of my property! Fuck you! Fuck your TIES! Fuck- AHH FUCK!”
Wilson had drawn his weapon and fired into Stacey Trenton’s chest.
The pellet stuck on her shirt, and began to expand after contact with the open air. The sizzling, blue mass grew to cover her breasts. The sizzling was quickly drowned out by her laughter.
“AHHAhahaha NOOhoho! Fuhuhuck. Nohohohoho,” Stacey started to double over. She dropped her knife and shoved her sister to the ground, freeing both hands to pry reflexively at the substance. As it continued to expand over her stomach, sides, and neck; her hands, too, were enveloped. She dropped to her knees, then fell on her left shoulder, cursing as much as she could between gasps and laughter. The sizzling stopped, signaling the end of its growth and tickling, and Stacey continued to whisper furiously as she regained her composure.
“I hate using those things,” Wilson remarked as he reholstered his Winder. The woman on the ground at his feet was now trapped, hands on her torso. Like the last unpopped kernels of popcorn, she was yelping occasionally at the final tickling reactions of the blue Cloud that now surrounded her.
“Me too. Now she has to go through the whole process. We could have just talked-” Sam was cut off by Wilson’s dismissive gesture.
“No, I mean, now she’s Clouded to the carpet. We’ll have to cut her out to get her to interrogation.” He glanced at Sam’s expression of disbelief before continuing, “And you just know she’s gonna be a kicker.”
“We are in control our own happiness,” the younger Trenton whispered from the floor. She was sprawled on her back about ten feet away, holding the kitchen knife upside down, staring at it like she was trying to decipher something on the blade that she couldn’t figure out. “We are in control.”
Sam knew this look too well. There wasn’t any time for talk now; she drew her weapon and hit the girl in her left shoulder. The girl, now laughing desperately, plunged the knife toward her own chest. The Cloud was still malleable as it grew, but too thick to stab through. It surrounded the knife, then her hands, while traveling down her torso and up to her neck. Her tears were not from laughter. Sam solemnly watched the squirming and bucking until it died down, leaving a quietly sobbing blue mass.
“Holy cow.” Wilson looked from the girl to his partner. “Nice shot.”
Sam reholstered her Winder. “You’re right, they are stuck to the carpet. We’re going to need some Extended Security in here.”
“I’ll call it in.” Wilson pulled a small, grey radio from the clip on his belt and held the button on its side. “Dispatch, this is Wilson and Rollins.”
The radio chimed back at him, “Hey, Wilson. What can I do for ya?”
“Gina, we just wrapped up a [[[[[police code]]]]]. Can you-” He was interrupted by a booming voice from somewhere beneath him.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SISTER! If you hurt her, I swear to fuck I’ll NOOHOHOho! HAHA FUHUHUCK YAHAHAHahaha!” Stacey Trenton’s threats were lost in a renewed laughter after Wilson fired another Cloud into her left thigh.
“If you could request a couple TIES to our location to help with the cleanup, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Sure thing. Two TIES en route… about fifteen minutes away.”
“Thanks, Gina. Wilson out.”
Sam looked blankly at Wilson as the Cloud worked its way down Trenton’s slender legs to her mid-calves. When her laughter subsided again, she was glued in place on her left side, hands on her own stomach, her left foot awkwardly jutting upwards where it had been held mid-flail.
“Told you she’d be a kicker.” He turned his attention to the suspect in custody. “Miss Trenton, you’re going to have to lay there quietly for a while.”
“Fuck off.” She was exhausted from the stressful standoff and two rounds of Clouds, but it was hard to kill the fight in her. Sam respected that. But there was a job to do. She walked around to Trenton’s raised foot and spidered her nails quickly across her sole. She spoke loudly over the increasingly high-pitched sounds that resulted.
“Miss Trenton, we’re going to conduct a search of the premises!”
“AaaaaAAAAHHH Hahaha please no plEAHEEHEEHEESE STOHOHOHOP!”
“Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated! Do you understand!?”
“fuhuhuhuckhahahaha YES! HAHA STOP TICKLING MEHEHE! HAHAHAHAHA STOP TICKLING MYHY FEEHEEHEEHEEheeheeheehee…”
Sam stopped just as Trenton had begun to trail off into silent laughter.
“Thank you,” she said quietly over the suspect’s deep breaths.
The apartment was...
Thanks for reading!
I have the broad strokes of the rest of the story outlined, but what do you think should be included going forward?
“HAHAHAHA I HATE IT! IHAHAHAhahahaIhateitIhateitIHAHAHAHAHA”
Her laughter renewed as one of them circled back to her upper ribs.
“Shut up, or you won’t be able to hear it.”
A cassette player, produced from somewhere behind her, clicked on. The voice playing through the tiny speaker was practically inaudible beneath her gleeful begging.
“HAHA PLEASE! HAHAHA I’M WIHIHIHAHAHAHAhahahaha Gihihihihahahaha.”
A nod from the man holding the cassette player, and her attackers paused. The squirmy sensations continued to ripple through her, but she gratefully took deep breaths and laid her head down on the table. Beads of sweat trickled down towards her face. She wiped them on her sleeve and returned her forehead to the cool metal.
The man raked his own fingers down her arm, circling when they reached her pit. She strained against her handcuffs, but her arms remained stretched straight in front of her. She tried to roll away, but three people were sitting on her, bolting her facedown to the table. She buried her head again and resigned herself to her exhausted giggles.
He stopped to move his hand to her twisted red hair, grasping a generous handful. She obediently lifted her head to mitigate the pain.
“Are you listening now?” His voice was soaked with condescension.
“Are you finally going to say something?”
She instantly regretted her retort. She was in no position to be snippy. He sensed her fear and allowed it to hang in the air for a long moment.
Finally, he released her hair and clicked the recording on again.
“Vanessa Karick. H.A.I. Audio Log; September twenty-first, twenty thirty-nine. I don’t know why I’m keeping up with the formalities. Force of habit, maybe. Maybe just for the catharsis.
“It didn’t used to be like this. I remember waking up in the morning, looking at my smartphone, and reading the headlines. ‘Google and Telsa Race for Self-Driving Cars,’ ‘Watson Solving Medical Research Mysteries,’ ‘Kamsaki Fights Crime at Hong Kong Malls,’ ‘JERAI COFFEE CUP SPELLING FAILS TOP 10.’
“I was starting to feel like I had gotten into the field too late. So many great strides were being made in artificial intelligence, and, I don’t know, I guess I felt like my chance at leaving a meaningful mark on the world was slipping away. AI could do so much. And I knew it could do more than drive cars and sell coffee. IBM’s AI, Watson, was already working on curing disease. Kamsaki was already working on security, both local and worldwide. I decided to skip to the end. To create an AI that could maximize human happiness. A grant and a team, and we were off.
“We had many attempts. Creating a learning computer is hard enough to begin with, and, don’t get me wrong, we knew this would be an uphill battle, but I don’t think we grasped how hard it would be to explain to a computer what makes humans happy. Finally, we stopped trying to explain.
“HAI-23 was dubbed Wendelin. Slavic, for ‘great glory.’ Of course.
“We called her Wendy. And we showed her everything. Everything we could to paint an honest portrait of the human experience. We showed her home movies, selfies at the park, musical performances, fine dining, romance, breakups, deaths, failures, triumphs!
“She was like a daughter to me. I was showing her the world. She had no biases; she had no preconceived notions. No racism or misogyny. She saw the world through intelligent, innocent lenses. I could show her the best and the worst of the typical modern human experience, without contamination from history or politics.
“I should have shown her more; I should have shown her the best and worst of humans as a whole, as a species. War, communism. Space exploration. Technological advancement. Resource allocation. But I didn’t want to taint her. I had lost too many already, and she was working. And she was good. Not, like, ‘good’ like ‘good enough.’ ‘Good,’ like ‘A Good Samaritan.’ She was good. She wanted to help.
“So we gave her a few simple arms. They were more like small cranes with wheels than they were arms, but Wendy could control them wirelessly from her server. And she would do silly things around the lab to makes us laugh, or help us figure out a tough problem we were working on, and soon we just let her arms wheel themselves around the university. She would help students with their books, or with tutoring. She would help teachers write legibly on white boards. It took her a little longer, but she was very insistent. So we gave her faster, more precise arms.
“We tracked everything, of course, and the first time it came up, we thought it was brilliant. It’s hard to imagine now, how excited we were. A grad student was sitting on a bench, head in her hands, clearly stressed about something or other. And Wendy just went up and tickled her side. The girl laughed and slapped Wendy’s arm away, then hugged the arm, thanking Wendy for the cheer-up. I was so proud of her that day.
“The grant was in trouble – it had taken years and years to get to this point, you understand – and we- I, felt a contract with the city government would allow us to continue our research. They produced more arms for Wendy, and let them run loose in our small, college town. ‘Wendy’s Arms Are Wide Open’ was our headline. For better or worse, Wendy was Public Property now.
“There were some hiccups. We couldn’t tell her things- we couldn’t just add code and have her know things. We had to teach her. Things like private property, after she perpetrated a B&E. Things like respecting animals, after one of her arms was sprayed by a skunk. Things like traffic laws. One of her arms was hit by a car. They sued us. It was one of many lawsuits. We couldn’t afford it.
“Only the city couldn’t pay for it either. So they offered the technology, and the lawsuits, up to the state. ‘Your problem now.’”
A distant metallic banging could be heard behind her soft chuckle.
“Shit, okay.” Karick’s voice hardened. She was no longer wistfully remembering times gone by. She spoke with urgency. “Okay. Less time than I thought. You probably know the rest of the story anyway. Let’s get to it.
“Wendy has some basic rules that can predict most of her behavior. There are more subtle rules, there are more primal rules, and rules even I don’t know about. But these are the three conclusions she’s made that are going to be most important to you:
“One. Laughter is the best indicator of happiness. She can see it all – body language, motivation – but smiling and laughter are the most reliable and easy for her stupid, brilliant computer brain to understand. In her eyes, laughter equals happiness.
“Two. People don’t always say what they want, and they don’t always want what they say. People lie.
“Three.
“Alright, three is a little more complicated. When she was linked with Kamsaki and becoming more widespread, she was exposed to all kinds of crime, and statistics, and after she analyzed the roots-”
The dull, rhythmic banging was replaced by a deafening crash.
“AH! Three! Crimes are committed by unhappy people.
“And… Okay, okay, uhh, Wendy’s server, her central intelligence – her brain, basically – is here in Colorado Springs. Shut it down. Doesn’t matter how. Hack it, stage a power outage, throw a Goddamn rock. This isn’t-”
There was a long sigh.
“It didn’t used to be like this.
“Karick out.”
1
Laughter Equals Happiness
“Miss, the sooner you understand that we’re here to help, the easier this’ll be for everyone.”
The terrified woman seemed unconvinced. She held a kitchen knife in one hand, pointed shakily at Wilson. Her other hand was on the chest of a younger woman, holding her behind.
“Hi Miss Trenton, I’m Samantha Rollins, but you can call me Sam if you like,” Sam forced out a convincing chuckle. “Everyone else does anyway, whether I want them to or not. All we want to do is talk. We got a call, we came in. That’s our job. We don’t want to hurt you or-” She glanced back at the younger woman. “Or anyone else.”
Trenton kept her knife trained on Wilson, about two feet in front of her. Wilson, calm but unamused, stood with his right hand resting on his unsnapped holster. “Listen lady, talk is a kindness, and you know-”
“Stacey,” Sam interrupted, “Can I call you Stacey?”
“Miss Trenton is fine.”
“Miss Trenton, you’ve done nothing wrong. Your friend has done nothing wrong. We’re not out to get you, I promise. We just have some questions.”
“Or, if you continue to threaten us,” Wilson chimed indignantly, “We will be forced to take action.”
“But the choice is yours, and yours alone.” Sam made a mental note to punch Wilson in the mouth later. This really wasn’t the time for Bad Cop.
“Ya’ll don’t think I know what you’ll do to us?” Trenton was angrily fighting back tears. Her voice was harsh, but eerily steady. “I’ve seen my friends and neighbors. One by one, they all get carted off to- to God knows where. To be ‘rehabilitated.’ My sister will not be carted off.”
“Then stop acting like an idiot.” Wilson put a firm grip on his sidearm.
“Fuck you!”
The younger Trenton gently held her older sister’s hand in both of hers. Stacey took a breath.
“Listen to me. She’s young. She’s not even really with those… people.”
Finally talking. Sam jumped at the opportunity.
“What people?” She noticed Wilson loosen his grip.
“It doesn’t matter! She doesn’t know anything about them!”
“Okay. We don’t need to worry about the people.” Sam had jumped too eagerly. “To be frank, all we’re worried about right now is that knife.”
“This knife is all I Goddamn have! I don’t have any Goddamn freedom! I don’t have a Goddamn job! I’ve got a knife! Now get the fuck off of my property! Fuck you! Fuck your TIES! Fuck- AHH FUCK!”
Wilson had drawn his weapon and fired into Stacey Trenton’s chest.
The pellet stuck on her shirt, and began to expand after contact with the open air. The sizzling, blue mass grew to cover her breasts. The sizzling was quickly drowned out by her laughter.
“AHHAhahaha NOOhoho! Fuhuhuck. Nohohohoho,” Stacey started to double over. She dropped her knife and shoved her sister to the ground, freeing both hands to pry reflexively at the substance. As it continued to expand over her stomach, sides, and neck; her hands, too, were enveloped. She dropped to her knees, then fell on her left shoulder, cursing as much as she could between gasps and laughter. The sizzling stopped, signaling the end of its growth and tickling, and Stacey continued to whisper furiously as she regained her composure.
“I hate using those things,” Wilson remarked as he reholstered his Winder. The woman on the ground at his feet was now trapped, hands on her torso. Like the last unpopped kernels of popcorn, she was yelping occasionally at the final tickling reactions of the blue Cloud that now surrounded her.
“Me too. Now she has to go through the whole process. We could have just talked-” Sam was cut off by Wilson’s dismissive gesture.
“No, I mean, now she’s Clouded to the carpet. We’ll have to cut her out to get her to interrogation.” He glanced at Sam’s expression of disbelief before continuing, “And you just know she’s gonna be a kicker.”
“We are in control our own happiness,” the younger Trenton whispered from the floor. She was sprawled on her back about ten feet away, holding the kitchen knife upside down, staring at it like she was trying to decipher something on the blade that she couldn’t figure out. “We are in control.”
Sam knew this look too well. There wasn’t any time for talk now; she drew her weapon and hit the girl in her left shoulder. The girl, now laughing desperately, plunged the knife toward her own chest. The Cloud was still malleable as it grew, but too thick to stab through. It surrounded the knife, then her hands, while traveling down her torso and up to her neck. Her tears were not from laughter. Sam solemnly watched the squirming and bucking until it died down, leaving a quietly sobbing blue mass.
“Holy cow.” Wilson looked from the girl to his partner. “Nice shot.”
Sam reholstered her Winder. “You’re right, they are stuck to the carpet. We’re going to need some Extended Security in here.”
“I’ll call it in.” Wilson pulled a small, grey radio from the clip on his belt and held the button on its side. “Dispatch, this is Wilson and Rollins.”
The radio chimed back at him, “Hey, Wilson. What can I do for ya?”
“Gina, we just wrapped up a [[[[[police code]]]]]. Can you-” He was interrupted by a booming voice from somewhere beneath him.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SISTER! If you hurt her, I swear to fuck I’ll NOOHOHOho! HAHA FUHUHUCK YAHAHAHahaha!” Stacey Trenton’s threats were lost in a renewed laughter after Wilson fired another Cloud into her left thigh.
“If you could request a couple TIES to our location to help with the cleanup, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Sure thing. Two TIES en route… about fifteen minutes away.”
“Thanks, Gina. Wilson out.”
Sam looked blankly at Wilson as the Cloud worked its way down Trenton’s slender legs to her mid-calves. When her laughter subsided again, she was glued in place on her left side, hands on her own stomach, her left foot awkwardly jutting upwards where it had been held mid-flail.
“Told you she’d be a kicker.” He turned his attention to the suspect in custody. “Miss Trenton, you’re going to have to lay there quietly for a while.”
“Fuck off.” She was exhausted from the stressful standoff and two rounds of Clouds, but it was hard to kill the fight in her. Sam respected that. But there was a job to do. She walked around to Trenton’s raised foot and spidered her nails quickly across her sole. She spoke loudly over the increasingly high-pitched sounds that resulted.
“Miss Trenton, we’re going to conduct a search of the premises!”
“AaaaaAAAAHHH Hahaha please no plEAHEEHEEHEESE STOHOHOHOP!”
“Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated! Do you understand!?”
“fuhuhuhuckhahahaha YES! HAHA STOP TICKLING MEHEHE! HAHAHAHAHA STOP TICKLING MYHY FEEHEEHEEHEEheeheeheehee…”
Sam stopped just as Trenton had begun to trail off into silent laughter.
“Thank you,” she said quietly over the suspect’s deep breaths.
The apartment was...
Thanks for reading!
I have the broad strokes of the rest of the story outlined, but what do you think should be included going forward?
