Fleshrunner: A rewrite of Bladerunner

Rory Lane

HJK1650

Deckard took shelter under a neon soaked shopfront, the light was just enough that he could read the newspaper at an angle. “Tyrell Retires Last of Human Workforce.” The headline read. Another wash job designed to keep more liberal synthetics quiet. Most people cared little about politics, let alone Archaics. He wondered if anyone would even care if they knew the true meaning of “retirement.”

“Yea, Yea. Ready!” The noodle dealer gestured from across the road. Deckard shielded his head from the rain with his newspaper, taking a seat at the bench under the steamy canopy. The noodles looked a bit bland, but he hadn't enjoyed the taste of things for awhile now anyway.

“Rick Deckard, you old dog.” Deckard instinctively put his hand on his holster before recognising the voice.

“Gaff.” he said dismissively.

“Deckard, you dont sound pleased to see me. Arent you happy to see your old friend?” he laughed.

“Maybe I would be if it didnt always mean that Bryant wants something from me...”

“You're still sharp Deckard I'll give you that. Bryant wants you down at the station for a big job, Ive got my orders. You coming peacefully?”

Deckard grumbled, pushing his noodles aside. Great day for it. Gaff led him to his spinner, Police issue.

“You driving a marked car now Gaff?”

“My adventuring days are behind me Deckard, I'm running a beat now. Easy, clean and not many complications.”

“You've changed Gaff. I remember when you'd shoot first and never ask questions.”

“Haha Deckard, maybe that's why the boss needs a free-lancer such as yourself, get in.”

A few cops gave Deckard the nod as he walked through the office. A lot of them were good men, powerless or complacent, but good men nonetheless. Overlord Bryant sat in his office tapping away at his computer, exactly the way Deckard always remembered him.

“Deckard, good to see you buddy. Step on in, close the door.” Lapdog Gaff took a seat in the corner.

“What is it this time Bryant?” Deckard said, voice rising.

“Straight to business, I expected nothing less. Weve got a problem, the worst yet.”

“Archaics...” mused Deckard.

“Of course. We need a little bit of your fleshrunner magic from the old days. We've got 4 human escapees on the loose in Los Angelos. Apparently they didnt take kindly to retirement....”

“I wonder why....” said Deckard.

“Leave your ethics at the door Deckard. This is the law, and that's what we enforce, you know that.”

Gaff chipped in.

“They're dangerous Deckard, they tried to hijack a shuttle... They've killed 3 synthetics.”

“We think they are trying to get off-world, probably to Fleshdump on Titan...”

“Archaic City? Like that's going to be better for them? I'm surprised Tyrell HQ is still sending that place CO2 scrubbers at all” Said Deckard.

“Deckard, you know what Archaics are like, they hold onto petty attachments like that. The pitfalls of deep emotion I guess. Anyway, You're to hunt them down and retire them.”

“And If I refuse?”

“This one came straight from Tyrell HQ themselves, there's no refusing it. You shouldn't have done such a great job on that last corporate case against Newgrounds, maybe then Tyrell wouldn't keep asking for your expertise.” Gaff rolled his eyes and gazed out into the office. Bryant switched on the Telescreen in the corner.

“This is video from Tyrell Stellar port just before the attempted hijacking. Tyrell suspected the humans might try to infiltrate the port to get off-world. All new employees were asked to undergo Voight-Kamph tests to try and weed out any humans.”

A blond man appeared on the screen, he looked nervous. Deckard suspected his humanity almost straight away, there were at least three Grey hairs on his upper scalp, a relatively rare and undesirable trait for any synthetic.

“Leon, welcome, please sit down.” The interviewer said. Deckard recognised his voice, it was Holden. A great fleshrunner, one of the best and most trustworthy men Deckard had ever met.

“How are you today Leon?”

“Is this part of the test?” Leon said glancing from side to side nervously.

“No, no. please be still.” The retinal scanner in the top corner of the screen refocused on Leon's eye. The test was designed to illicit overly emotional responses in humans. Sweating, blushing, microexpressions, involuntary dilation of the pupil. Things of that nature. Idiosyncrasies that are far more mild in synthetics.

“You're in a Desert Leon, there's a Tortoise....”

“What's a Tortoise, is this part of the test?”

“Yes Leon, do you know what a turtle is?”

“Sure, everyone knows that.” Leon had a bead of sweat building on his forehead.

“Well its the same thing Leon. So the tortoise has fallen on its back and is struggling to turn itself back over, what do you do?”

“Is it Synthetic?” Asks Leon.

“No, its organic.”

“I guess....... I guess I'd just leave it alone or report it as lost property.” His answer sounded forced. Deckard figured that an elite fleshrunner like Holden must already know hes got himself a human, but like any good cop, you've got to finish the test and make it conclusive beyond doubt.

“Your wife comes home...”

“I don't have a wife...”

“Pretend that you do....” Holden continued.

“She hangs a picture of another man in your bedroom, what do you do?”

Leon took a few seconds, fixated on the retinal scanner.

“I'd...I'd question her emotional attachment to the picture.....and.....ask her who the man is.”

This Archaic was smart, but his body language and facial inconsistencies were a dead giveaway.

“Describe in single words, only the good things that come into your mind, about your mother.”
“My Mother....my mother....” A blaster shot rang out in the video. The top of the desk tore open as a plasma round burnt its way through, presumably towards Holden.

“A bastard Replicant like you, killed my mother!” Leon yelled, aiming down off camera, he fired another shot.
“Holden's dead?”

“Yes, which is another reason we need you. You're the only fleshrunner left now, you're an obsolete functionary. Theres maybe what, 12 registered humans left in Los Angelos? Non-sentient amorphous synthetics are all the rage for menial work nowdays. They're cheaper to keep, and they don't complain. I would get Gaff onto this case, but hes been retired and had his NV2 emotional recognition chip removed. You're literally the only person left in the city with an eye for weeding out humans.”

Gaff leaned forward with a smirk.

“Seriously Deckard, after this case, get that thing removed. It was making me second guess myself at every turn, I almost started thinking I was Archaic.”

Deckard stared out the window of the spinner,doing his best to avoid conversation with Gaff. The rain was heavier now, blasting towards them, curving over the car and forming a wake. He could see Tyrell HQ in the distance, a dark monolithic pyramid structure, the center of this city, and arguably the world. Gaff eased back on the controls, pulling up and climbing the sheer face of the building. Why did Tyrell need to see him anyway?

“Richard Deckard, please...please come in. This is my assistant Rachael.” An attractive brunette. Deckard couldn't help but smile, thankfully she returned the gesture.

“The infallible Elson Tyrell, what can I do for you?”

Tyrell seemed happy with the label.

“Nothing serious, just a chat about our little venture.” Deckard took a seat, still thinking of the girl sitting, smoking to the right. Gaff may have been a shill, but he was right about one thing. In recent months Deckard was noticing himself craving emotional attachments that were far beyond the limitations of normal synthetics.

“That footage you saw, the man in the video. Did you know he was one of the last humans to retain independence? He is a dangerous man Deckard, he must be stopped at all costs. Leon has contacts within the realm of sympathetic synthetics, People who dabble in emotional experimentation and illegal emotion enhancement. That's why we need your insight. We don't want this Leon Archaic getting to Titan and whipping up the rest of them into a civil rights frenzy. That could be very damaging to Tyrell Corporation profit margins, and the stability of Panamerica in general. I'm giving you clearance to kill the synthetics involved, if and when you find them.”

“So I'm killing class one citizens now? I don't remember that from the briefing with Bryant.” Deckard could feel a tension rising.
“This is off police record, it would be a personal favour to the Tyrell Corporation.” Deckard got up to leave.

“Wait Deckard, one more thing....I want you to do a Voight-Komph test on Rachael here.” Tyrell said.

“What good would that do?”

“Please, please I am intrigued by the test, just humour me.”

Rachael lit another cigarette as Deckard tinkered with the retinal scanner.

“Have you ever killed a synthetic by mistake Mr Deckard?” She sat staring, Deckard stopped, locked onto her eyes, her hair was up. A small mole lay under her right eye, a common accessory amongst middle-class female synthetics.

“No, Never.” he leaned into the retinal scanner, shaking off his thoughts.

“It seems you feel our work is not of benefit to the public?” Rachael queried.

Deckard ignored her. She looked to the side, taking another drag.

“Ok It's ready, please look forward.” She smiled dismissively, placing her cigarette down on the ashtray.

“So Rachael, how long have you been working at Tyrell Corporation? Do you enjoy it?”

“ Ten years. I find this position satisfies my mental needs, and the credits are good.” She stared calmly, unflinching.

“Do you have any fond memories from your childhood?”

“Really Deckard, this is ludicrous. I'm synthetic, I had no childhood....”

It continued on like this for over an hour, Rachaels calm veneer was unwavering throughout. A perfect score; If words were the only thing being analysed. The Voight-Kamph machine also measures microscopic particles released into the air by humans, this and some strange Iris readings made Deckard uneasy.

“Ok, one final question Rachael...”

“You're watching the telescreen at home, a wasp lands on your arm...”

“Id brush it away, or kill it.” She answered quickly.

Tyrell came in from the side.

“Right, Thankyou Rachael, can you please leave the room for a moment..”

She got up, adjusting her skirt and closing the door behind her.

“Well?” Tyrell asked excitedley.

“She's Human isn't she?” Deckard guessed. The results weren't conclusive, a definitive result would require hours of cross referencing. But he could gauge from the situation that there was a reason Tyrell wanted Deckard to test Rachael.

“Very, very impressive Deckard. I see you live up to your reputation as an emotionally attuned man.Yes shes human.”

“But she thinks she is synthetic?” he could feel a heat rise within him.

“Exactly. A new technique we've developed. We can wipe their memory and insert anything in its place. This could be a multi-billion dollar opportunity....”

“What the hell for? I thought non-sentient bots were phasing out the use of humans.”

“Non-sentients dont have every base covered. Some work- in deep space for instance- requires greater intelligence than your regular house-class synthetic. These jobs are dangerous and politically risky when using 1^st class synthetics, what better solution than an army of humans who think they actually are synthetic. Obedient enough not to jump ship at the first opportunity, expendable enough that when a fatality occurs, no hearings, no investigations, no problems. We're sending a storage ship to Titan right now to acquire candidates for the procedure...”

A grin rushed across Tyrell's face. Deckard felt increasingly uneasy, he restrained himself from giving into his moral urges. There was no advantage to gain in speaking out. It was drawing a line, where before, only a vague acknowledgment of Deckard's heightened emotional state existed. They'd be time later to make a move.Tyrell was too powerful a man to risk making an enemy and judging by the parameters of this latest job, people who disagree with Tyrell, don't disagree with him for very long.

Deckard tapped the coordinates into Gaffs Nav console. Tyrell had given him the location of a suspected sympathiser. Seemed like a good lead. Trouble is, Deckard didn't know what he was going to do when he got there.

“You alright Deckard?” Gaff smiled.

“Just get us moving Gaff.”

It had only taken 40 years for humans to go from total independence, to near complete servitude. Sure, humans and synthetics alike signed the Carter Treaty, legalising the transition of society from from flesh to synthetic. Those original human scientists, those with dreams of people flying to the stars with synthetic immortal bodies, did they foresee a day when humans would be the lowest denominator? Did they accept that as an uncomfortable inevitability of the Synthetic transition period? Deckard thought that at least a few of them would be turning in their graves with the prospect of society coming so full circle, that now the humans were disposable commodities used for dangerous work.

Deckard knocked on 303's door.

“Thomas Liston, this is agent Deckard. Please open the door.”

A few moments passed, the door opened calmly. A slender man with glasses stood with a crooked smile, telling of something. This was him, Deckard checked his stats on the way over. The glasses must have been a fashion thing, it had been catching on lately in cosmopolitan circles.

“Officer Deckard, Please come in..” Thomas moved to the side, gesturing towards a plush red couch at the side of the room.

“I'm here to ask of your relationship to a group of humans. Specifically, An archaic named Leon.”

Thomas leaned forward, smile still present, he slowly picked up a glass of scotch, before leaning back, folding his legs.

“Why yes I know Leon. I helped Leon and his friends get off-world about 2 hours ago...” Deckard reeled a little from the statement.

“Are...are you always this transparent?” Deckard respected him for his courage.

“Its a logical play at this point Deckard. I'm sure you've already figured out Leon wanted off-world anyway, and it was only a matter of time until Tyrell suspected my involvement, my fate is sealed by decree.”

Thomas leaned in.

“But what of you Deckard? The last fleshrunner? Retirement or not, your NV2 chip has been active for over a decade, do you not feel something? Something beyond just a gesture, or a show of intention?”

This guy had done his research, Deckard had totally lost control of the situation.

“If you're really playing the game, you'd know to keep quiet instead of painting a target for Tyrell over your head.”

Thomas' smile broadened.

“I knew I could take a gamble on you Deckard.”

Gaff looked agitated staring at Deckard as he approached the street.

“What the hell took you so long?”

“He wasn't there. I broke in, checked around his apartment. Found a tracking slip for west-side starport, could be the next place they're looking to hit.”

Gaff calmed.

“Got some new orders for ya anyway. There are five human targets now. Some Class-2 female organic from Tyrell escaped. I didn't even realise they still kept Archaics there, might have been for research or something.”

Deckard swallowed, trying his best to disguise his reaction. No, not her. Please not her.

“Take me back to my apartment, I need to check a few sources out...”

Gaff cranked up the engine, taking off at a good speed, Seemed like he wanted to get home too.

Deckards apartment door was unlocked. He crept along the wall, pistol raised. Was it the humans? Tyrell?

“Deckard...” a soft female voice. Rachael.

“I'm sorry, I....I didn't know where else to go.” She looked slightly unkept now, her hair was frazzled, wet from rain.

“I...was curious as to why Tyrell had me sit the test.....I was listening at the door.....I.....I...mean..... I dont know what to do, Im still in shock I think. You seemed like a decent person. Will you help me Deckard? Can you?”

It seemed more than one person was willing to gamble on Deckard today. He raced over the scenarios. He'd already made a massive leap tonight, it was too late to back out. Even if he did, there's no way he could bring himself to retire Rachael. The attachment had him now, rational or not, it had to be followed through to its conclusion.

“Yes Rachael, yes I can help...” She smiled, rushing over to Deckard and throwing her arms around him. She started crying. Deckard stood frozen for minutes, not daring to let go until a sense of euphoria had passed. He was beyond synthetic now, perhaps something closer to the original intention of those human scientists. Awash with something that defied quantisation. He pulled her away and lead her to the door.