Shawn went to his dorm as quickly as possible, bursting with curiosity. His heart was pounding, partially because of the excitement but mostly because he knew that if Elmer found out, he’d be in big trouble. He kicked off his shoes, threw his bag on the old, rippled leather sofa, and whipped out the binder. He placed it on the coffee table and contemplated it for a second. Why would he lock it, and why wouldn’t he mention he had a new case? Usually, Elmer told Christine about all his cases, and they thought them through together. But Christine hadn’t mentioned anything about Elmer working on something new. Shawn took a big lungful of air and held it in his cheeks, looking like a stuffed chipmunk. “Here we go,” he let the air out sharply, then opened the binder. On top was a transparent folder stuffed with pictures and notes. One picture caught his attention in particular. On it was a man, Russian-looking, Shawn’s thought. The man was bald, had thick eyebrows, a round chin, and a set of blue, tired, baggy eyes. He had a bit too much meat on his face, with narrow eyes squished above his heavy jowls. Looks like he could be dangerous, Shawn thought.  He was shaved, Shawn could almost smell the heavy cologne he was probably wearing. His shoulders, chest, and neck were so wide he looked more animal than human. He was dressed in a suit that looked like it would take a year’s salary to buy. The background of the picture was a flat offwhite wall, and the man was staring directly into the lens, looking almost annoyed, like he was being forced to have his photo taken. What a glare. I’d rather fight a bear than him, Shawn thought.

Shawn flipped the picture and saw his father’s writing on the back, “Timur.”

He now had a face for the name, but who was he? Shawn flipped through the pictures. His breath caught in his chest. Pictures of crime scenes, of what used to be men, faces trampled, bodies stabbed, and blood splattered. On the back of each picture were dates and locations. Shawn’s hands started to sweat, his mouth sticky. He didn’t know why, but he documented everything with his phone. Before he moved on to the documents, he tried to calm down. “What the fuck,” he said aloud.

He was about to flip the page on the document when suddenly the doorbell rang. Shawn jumped a good few centimeters from his seat, and his heart started pounding again. He wiped his face, spreading the hand sweat evenly. He stuck the binder into his bag and went to answer, half-expecting to see Elmer. When he opened the door, he was met with, “Good day, would you have a moment to talk about our lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?” Shawn just stood there staring at the man for a moment with a you-must-be-fucking-kidding-me expression. “I’m good, thanks,” he closed the door. “Wanna talk about our lord and savior?” Shawn imitated the man as he walked back to the sofa, “What the…?” he contemplated his own sanity.

Successfully distracted for a moment, he now sat at the binder again. Without further ado, he read the first document. It said“AI Corps.” Isn’t that the company with the brain chips? “What’s going on here,” Shawn said aloud, worried but also somewhat excited. He noted the feeling and wondered why he got excited at the slightest sign of trouble. He read some passages and skipped over the rest. Only halting at what seemed to be important. After a few minutes, the puzzle pieces came together. This Timur dude must be up to no good. Shawn noticed his own thought and then commented on it, you were born a genius, my friend. The crimes seemed to range from mugging to unauthorized human trials. He flipped to the last page, which had a sticky note on its surface with the note “Authorities are in on it.” Shawn immediately thought of his mother, if the authorities are in on it… contacting the police will be of no use... on the contrary, it will catch Timur’s attention.  “Fuck, this is bad,” Shawn said out loud. Drained, he closed the binder and stared into thin air. He had only one thought in his mind now, what had they done with Elmer? For a while, Shawn just sat there with his jaw wide open. He felt the urge to tell everyone, just like a child that learns something it shouldn’t have. “Hey, this cool but dangerous thing is going on,” he would say if he could. But a voice deep from inside told him, “Stay calm and be careful,  or it might cost you your family and your life.” He took that voice of reason by its word. He double-checked he had the pictures in his phone and then lowered a trapdoor from the unused attic above his apartment, where he carefully hid the binder. I don’t know what to do about this… no way mother will listen. First thing she does is that she runs to the police. I can’t tell her. But what will I do? What can I do? No need to freak out… just yet. Chances are he will show up eventually… but… with every day… the probability “decreases,” he finished aloud. He scratched his head, I’ll keep it to myself for now. I’ll check out mom’s condition when I visit them this weekend.