The Art of The Dead

It only took one night to change one's view of the world, the perspective of life, even one's night's terrors. For Adam, it was that damp and humid night in September, when the usual peace turned into absolute chaos when a night of serene black turned into frightful red. A brief rain had just poured on Angkara—too brief, as it increased the humidity, but left the air still hot. It was unbearable and it woke Adam. It was still 7:30 pm. The temperature device in his apartment couldn't adjust itself anymore lately, so Adam was forced to do it manually. It was his day off as an Angkara PD detective, as humans still needed rest to collect themselves, unlike Y-0, his android partner, who didn't need sleep to stay sharp. Sometimes, he wondered why the hell the entire law force and military hadn't changed so that they were only comprised of androids. They said that detective work still needed a human way of thinking. Judging by how Y-0 worked relentlessly at all times, despite some lagging in its memory chip lately, he begged to differ. The night was unusually calm, one could say that it was the calm before the storm. Colorful lights from outside poured inside, and Adam could still hear the busy street twenty stories below his room. He was thinking to hit the bar when his PD terminal chimed. Aster, can't a man have his quiet evening? Nevertheless, he muttered a command to transfer the call to his monitor.

"Hey there, Supercop," Y-0's face appeared on his monitor. Its voice always soothed Adam.

"Yup," Adam started walking over to his cabinet, found his BE container, took one ply of it, and placed it on the palate, right above his tongue.

Y-0 took some time to continue, due to its slow processing as much as it was taken aback by what Adam just did. He finally commented, "I don't think that would be the best course of action seeing what you're required to do now. Also, I'm going to pretend I didn't see that."

"I don't know machines can pretend."

After some processing, "I'm not just a 'machine'," Y-0 continued, "You are needed at the DomArt, the huge gallery at the city center. There was a terrorist attack. I'll fill you in once you get here."

"Oh Aster!" Y-0 was right. This was the worst time to pop a BE. His senses now got a little dull and the world started to spin subtly, "Isn't there anyone else?" This was the start of a storm indeed.

"Everyone is—" processing, "—to be honest, Supercop, I don't know why the commander requested your involvement."

Adam felt a sinking feeling. Was it just the usual disgruntlement, or was it actually a more serious foreboding? He couldn't tell. 'An order's an order.' It was not his place to question his superior. He muttered a 'yes', then went to get dressed. He then asked, "I assume you're already there?"

"Affirmative. And Adam," pause for processing, "wear your armor suit."

The gallery was very tacky in Adam's opinion. A waste of people's money and time. A huge classical building with arched tall windows and entryway, pillars, and a giant crystal lamp in the middle of its double-stair foyer, all with unnecessary curling and twirling ornaments. In the age of consumable entertainment, he was perplexed by how this 'high art' scene was still a thing. The scene was chock full of ambulances, police cars, and human policemen and health officers, all in their armor suit. Of course, the androids were free to roam without any protective suit. Waves of red and blue lights from police cars flooded the facade of the building. There were banners, mostly in purple color schemes, advertising the opening night of an event: '100 Years of Ogrario'. He recognized the name, as it was taught in his school. Before he decided to go to the police academy, he was an art nerd. He liked some of Ogrario's art, especially the chiseled wooden blocks. He wondered if the blocks were exhibited there. If so, were they real or just replicas?

"Evening, Supercop!" Y-0's face appeared at the upper right corner of his helmet visor, its voice echoed inside his suit and startled him.

"For Aster, Yo," Adam chose to call it with a pet name instead of its proper model name. "Can you just, lower your volume?"

"Oh, a sec— How is it now?"

"Still annoying. Care to fill me in now?" Adam started toward the big door. The crystal lamp was now reflecting the police lights, making the scene inside like an absurd night club.

"Enter the exhibition space. Go right in. I hope you haven't had your dinner yet."

Adam then entered the exhibition space. The interior of the gallery was a lot more modern. The architecture was clean and efficient: white walls, white tiles, artworks spaced every few meters on its walls. It was beautiful in its simplicity. There was some bothersome longing inside him that he suppressed immediately. There they were, the complete collection of his favorite artist, sharing the same room with him. There were only the paintings, though. He walked in slowly and let the room grow and swallow him, minding the gaggle of officers and victims scattered about the room. He wished he came here under different circumstances, then he could take his time appreciating Ogrario's works. Unfortunately, this was a crime scene now. He was a detective. 'I couldn't care less about the art form. That did nothing for the progression of humanity.' That was his self-assurance. We all know by now, dear reader, that isn't entirely true. He could still hear the wild coughing from the exhibition's attendees while they were slowly escorted to the ambulance outside. This was a gas attack. Now he understood the importance of his armor.

"Where are you, Yo?" he said.

"Oh, sorry. Walk toward the end of the room. The— " processing, "— antechamber, if you will. I prefer to call it the secret hideout. Ah there you are!" Yo was seen waving at him from the opening behind the wide room. The Y series was made to look androgynous and strangely attractive. Its build was tall and slender with white hair and beautiful but cold eyes, despite its red iridescence. It wore its everyday attire: white suit and black pants, but with a corsage-like tie, another hint of an individual statement from a supposedly efficient machine. It motioned for Adam to enter, so he did.

"Holy Aster—," said Adam under his breath. The room spun slowly. He couldn't tell whether this was the BE kicking in or just his shock.

"Yeah, what a 'work of art'," responded Y-0, which apparently could still hear Adam's muttering because of his helmet terminal. This antechamber was almost red all over, although judging by the theme of the building's architecture, the walls, floor, and ceiling were supposed to be white. Blood

"Oh it is," responded Y-0. It then stopped to process something, then continued, "Judging from the security footage, it was released from some kind of suitcase."

"What kind of suitcase?"

"I don't—" processing, "— it looked like it was custom built."

"Upload the footage to my suit," He started to turn and walk the other way around to the main area with Y-0 following behind him. He tried to find out whether or not the Ogrario's print blocks were also included in the event, "What other intel can you gather from the footage?"

Processing again. Adam never mentioned its late lag on Y-0. It was better this way, so he can remind that Y-0 is just a machine. It was bad enough as it was, "—again, supercop. There are human behaviors that I can't explain. I leave that for you to process."

"Is the upload completed?"

Processing— "completed."

The screenshot of the scene appeared inside his helmet, showing the room in its former condition: white everything. Adam asked Y-0 to start playing the footage. After a second, it started. It showed people started to coming in, but not in droves. They all looked important, "hmm— VIP collectors—"

"Come again?"

"Never mind. Could you please fast forward it to before the attack happened?"

The footage was fast-forwarded to when the room is more populated than before. Everyone was seen standing in groups according to their clicks. Androids (which hair always in an unnatural color so they could be separated from the humans, who were forbidden to color their hair) can be seen circling the room supplying the guests with drinks. A few seconds later, they stopped what they're doing and started to look at one side of the room, where somebody seemed to address them.

"Is there any voice in this footage?"

"Unfortunately, no. This gallery uses an outdated security system that doesn't have an audio capturing chip. They were scheduled to upgrade the system last week, but for some reason, this never happened."

"Holy Aster," muttered Adam. He continued to watch the footage. The guests started to clap for something that was happening outside of the view of the camera, while the lights were slowly dimmed. The security camera was placed above and over the stage area. After a while, a guy with a gas mask appeared from the side of the footage, carrying a suitcase. It looked like it had some sort of lighted linings. He then put the suitcase on the floor in slow deliberated movements, before opening it and some red gas escaped. The guests who were at the front rows started to cough and held their necks or chests. Those who were behind them seemed to be dumbfounded before they also showed the same reactions. Then their heads exploded. Like a domino, it started from the front and continued towards the back with diminishing effects. The ones who were at the furthest from the stage seemed just coughing relentlessly, but kept their heads and lives intact, "red gas—"

"Come again?"

"This was a part of an art performance. That's why the guests didn't realize that they were about to be attacked—" Adam started to think loudly.

Y-0 took a second to respond, "— art — performance?"

"Yea, a form of art that uses human movements as the media. This is just for the VIP guests, the collectors, people who have the means to purchase this sort of thing. Not for the plebeians who were only admitted here in the main room."

Now Y-0 took longer to process, then decided to not comment on that. Somehow Adam felt like Y-0's silence was its way to mock him. Adam didn't know why he thought so.

"You're right, this is a strange 'human behavior'."

"No. I was just surprised that you seem to be well informed about art." That was a sarcastic tone, "I thought you hated it, judging by your drab apartment."

Adam decided to ignore that, and continued, "Well, the guy with the suitcase seems like he didn't know what he released. He looked like he's panicking and fleeing the room. Any data on the art performer?"

"The opening's rundown doesn't mention any performance was about to be held," processing, "could this be an impromptu?"

"Nevermind. We just ask the gallery manager then."

"You mean that guy whose head exploded first?"

"Oh."

"Look don't worry. We're collecting data about families and friends of the victims and people involved—"

Adam let Y-0 ramble a bit. He tried to piece together the motive of the attack while muttering to rewind and fast forward the footage. There seemed to be no heist. What was this? Just a terrorist attack? By whom? Callisto? Amalgamada? Attacks on the rich were usually their motives, but these kinds of attacks were not their usual modus operandi and seemed like there's no end game to this. Unless—.

"Were there any blocks missing?"

"— come again?" Y-0 was confounded by the sudden interruption in its speech.

"Blocks. Wooden blocks. Ogrario's infamous wooden blocks."

Processing.

"Aster! Check the art piece inventory," Adam shuts down his helmet interface and started towards the room.

"You think this was also a heist? Hey, supercop, wait!"

Adam stood on the verge of the door and gazed around the room. After a while, he started to walk towards where the center of the attack had happened, stepping on the pool of blood.

"Adam! You're tampering with the crime scene! Stop! I must report you!"

Adam stopped and turned to Y-0, "Where is the suitcase?"

Processing. "There was one in the vicinity before you came—"

"Where is it now?" Adam grew irritated.

Processing. Processing. "It— disappeared—"

"What?" Adam continued, "It seems to me that I'm not the one tampering with the crime scene first, am I?"

"Wait, Adam. Five items are missing since you were here—"

Five items! "Y—you mean the blocks?"

"A moment, please—" Y-0 closed its eyes. Adam turned his attention back to the crime scene. The plates were gone, it was a robbery. But the method of stealing it was extraordinary. He figured that it was a statement. Either it was political, social, or worse, religious. He tried to recall all of his training to create some feasible scenarios, but Y-0 interrupted.

"—the force managed to catch the perpetrator," it said, "but he's dead."