He had his praetorian walkie talkie ready, and was frankly surprised that he hadn’t already been alerted to a crime taking place. Usually, by the time he was out the door, he would be alerted to a dozen emergencies. He headed over to Sector C to the east, bounding through the city at an inhuman speed—a blur to most human eyes.

Joseph had a vague, intrusive memory of the first time he had ever run so fast when he was a child. He remembered the pleasing sensation of wind whistling in his ears, pollen in his nose, and a sense of… energy blasting through his veins. It was a sensation that sat as a craving at the back of his brain—an itch he couldn’t scratch—lighting it up, but never to the degree it did when he first experienced it.

He grimaced upon thinking about it, but was luckily distracted in a moment when he arrived at Sector C. Sector C was one of the most dangerous Sectors in the city; there were dark alleyways, trash all of the streets, and rampant crime around every corner. Joseph patrolled the city for an hour—strolling down filthy, trash filled streets with empty fast-food containers blowing about in the wind—and was shocked to see no crime taking place, and was doubly shocked that he was not called on his walkie talkie yet, either.

He paused in the middle of the street while patrolling. His eyes were drawn downward, toward a crack in the sidewalk. He was ensnared by a strange feeling slithering its way into his mind, causing him to wonder what the point of patrolling was if there was no crime. He didn’t like the sensation, and was hopeful he would see someone getting mugged so he would no longer have to concentrate on the odd, awful feeling of displacement.

Unfortunately, no such mugging occurred.

However, a voice was heard at the edge of his hearing that tore him away from the crack. “Hey Joseph! Come have breakfast with me!” Joseph turned in the direction of the voice. Behind him was a rundown coffeeshop where one of his brothers was sitting at a table under an umbrella, waving to him. Joseph waved back, “No thank you, Dawkins. I’m patrolling and on-the-clock.”

“Don’t be such a damned work-a-holic. Nobody’s in trouble for once; you don’t want to waste this chance to dick off!” Dawkins exclaimed.

Joseph was going to repeat his rejection of the offer, but the alternative of standing around, waiting for something to happen, was more annoying to him than the thought of sitting down with his brother and having breakfast. Standing around gave him time to think, and he wasn’t fond of thinking.

Joseph strode toward the restaurant and sat down next to Dawkins. Dawkins’ jaw went ajar. “Holy cow, you’re actually sitting with me.”

“You told me to.” Joseph replied, wondering why Dawkins should seem so surprised.

“It’s just, you almost never hang out with the rest of the Praetorians. I blame the fact that you’re a new model—muted emotions and all.” Dawkins said, taking a sip of his coffee.

Joseph shrugged. “I suppose so. I prefer work to small-talk, too.”

Dawkins narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. “Why? I mean, sure, it can be fun chasing some criminals down and clapping some manacles on them, but it’s way more fun to dick off. You see, in my spare time, I’ve been coming up with this awesome story…”

Joseph’s nose wrinkled in response. “A story? What purpose would that serve?”

Dawkins snorted in derision as a cloud passed overhead, casting his face in shadow. “You see, this is why you’re so depressing and no one even wants to hang out with you. You tell stories for entertainment, dumbass.”

“Why are you cursing at me?” Joseph wondered, his voice betraying his slight annoyance, but his placid face betraying nothing.

Dawkins nudged him with an elbow. “It’s guy talk. You’d know that if you ever asked your House for a night on the town. We may be slaves, but they can be pretty lenient.”

Joseph didn’t know how to reply to that. He repeated, “What purpose would that serve? Besides, I get more visits from Dad if I just stick to the job and stay-in at night.”

Dawkins rolled his eyes. “That actually matters to you? You know they only have him come in and give us a pep talk to keep us in line, right? Besides, if you come out with us, you can meet girls.”

Joseph leaned a cheek upon his hand, his expression unchanging and uninterested. “Girls?” he repeated ineffectually.

“Yes. Girls. Please don’t make that uninterested expression when I’m talking about the greatest people on earth.” Dawkins was offended by his disinterest.

Joseph yawned, causing Dawkins to say, “I will hit you so hard for that. Now, let me tell you what’s so great about girls. The first thing, is that they’re soft. Really, really soft—unlike the criminals who we have to put away who are sharper than knives. You can rest your head on their tits and you’ll go right to sleep.”

Joseph cocked his head to the side. “Tits?” Joseph blinked rapidly, baffled by his brother.

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear the fact that you don’t know what tits are. What the hell did they do to you when they manipulated your genome? Anyway, the second-best thing about girls, is that they’re sweet. Sweeter than candy, I tell ya. They will treat you like a king for a night and a morning. They’ll serve you wine and delicious sweets, and then they’ll put you to bed and climb right into bed with you, they’ll give you all the compliments in the world. When you wake up, they’ll serve you breakfast and tickle you and kiss you and…”Dawkins sighed just thinking about it. “Damn. They’re just the best.”