Hello, welcome to Anomie

A late night breeze carrying a salty bite from the ocean surrounding Anomie danced between the sprawling architecture of the manmade island, cooling the city from the midday heat into a comfortable warm embrace. Anomie had a way about reminding you that the ocean was always there waiting to drag you and everything it touches into its dark unknown - despite the sheer size of Anomie, no matter where you were on the island you could hear the roaring waves crashing against the beach.

It had been one of those days where I needed a long break and a cigarette. It had also been one of those days where I was greatly reconsidering living the professional detective life. The job I picked up was going cold and every lead I had led nowhere; it was not nearly as fun as playing detective was growing up - there used to be a lot less on the line.

With a cherry red cigarette glowing between my fingers, my apartment's fire escape became my getaway spot, I felt like I had a moment to myself finally. The crackle of the flame moving towards my lips on the inhale and then a moment of nothing, not even the sound of the waves broke the welcomed silence. 

Deeply gathering a fresh breath, the muscles in my legs struggle to push my body upwards onto the landing without slipping on the wet metal. A good smoke session never lasted long in Anomie before the city became drenched in rain once again, where storm systems moved in and out so quickly nothing had time to dry.

“I thought you were going to quit murdering your lungs for fun. You must be reading too many of those novellas again.” The sudden and unexpected voice from behind me made me jump and drop the barely lit cigarette butt through the grated floor. A welcoming and familiar face was proud at the success of frightening me while sneaking up the ladder. 

“You cannot be scaring me on this ancient ass fire escape dude, you know that! Scared the shit out of me.” My voice came out cracked, annoyed and hoarse from the nicotine. “You better get up here already or else I’m going to push you and make it look like an accident.”

His short black shaggy hair was slightly wet and hanging in his face, shaking off droplets with every laugh that spilled out of him. Jonah Hallow, a city cryptid and midnight artist, stood nose to nose with me grinning hard like his life depended on it.

“Sketch, you caught me at a good time. This is the first moment I haven’t been ripping my hair out all week.” Sketch was a nickname I had given to Jonah when he was first finding himself as a graffiti artist, at the time he was doing sketchy portraits of strangers in spraypaint, they were rough and choppy and looked like a doodle in a notebook. He was so proud of his early work that he kept the name to memorialize it, his real name felt unfitting to say now.

 

Sketch’s proximity gave me goosebumps, his breath nearly hitting my ear and his hands brushed against mine. Reflex kicked in and I stepped back, turning away to let him pass by me; there was no way he could have missed my bright red face.

His smile was nonchalant anyways, unphased by the awkwardness I was . “So what brings you out to the balcony tonight, my dear Ears?” Ears, a nickname I may have earned while eavesdropping, but I deeply despised the lack of cuteness it had. 

“Other than having myself a little ciggie to kill my lungs and to clear my head? I would love to have this inside while pouring over my case but I don’t want to get him,” I gesture to the blue spikey ball of quills poking his tiny nose out at us, “sick, he does not need that nor do I need that right now." The porcupine squeaked and shuffled away slowly, no longer interested in the excitement going on outside.

“Ah yes! Naald, the sweet and somewhat weird porcupine you call a friend! So sad, why don’t you make a human friend for once? There’s tens of thousands of people here to choose from!”

I snapped back, “I got you, what if I told you he’s more than just a friend, he’s family.” the words slipped out meaning to poke fun at myself. “Do you remember when I first got him? He wandered onto your family’s property and wouldn’t stop following me around and it got to a point where he always scared that one kid up the street when he got too close. He’s gotten better about it though.

“Naald has always been protective of you, I swear it’s like he communicates with you, which makes you not having friends even more concerning.” He knew I had friends and still teased me because I don’t see them nearly as much as he sees his - in my line of work, having trustworthy friends is worth a lot. 

With Sketch leading the way through the window, I knew I was going to hear about the state of my apartment. With the way the kitchen was open to the living room, any mess that was out felt extra noticeable. Watching him carefully step over piles of precariously stacked books and used dishes I prayed that he was avoiding my dead potted plants and wouldn’t knock them over. 

“You have got to let me clean this place for you, it’s chaos!” A scornful look draws on his face as he glances around my apartment like a rat would just jump out and bite him, exactly the response I knew I’d get. There weren't many dirty dishes or garbage laying around, there were also case files and islands of reading material dotting the carpet like a map. A few vine plants and herbs hog the tops of the bookshelves, and the porcupine’s crate near the windowsill in the living room was padded with towels and loose quills he made himself at home in.

Dictating the divide between living room and kitchen, the dining room table became the central hub for my investigations, rendering it useless for when I have guests over. Sketch took a seat on a barstool at the counter facing me as I put a kettle on for tea. 

“Wanna play a game?” He asks, shaking his cigarette pack.

“First off, I’m so fine with you not touching my stuff. Do not clean it, secondly,” I had paused for a moment as I got the mugs ready with cream, sugar and teabags and placed them on the counter while we waited. “I don’t know what game you play with  a pack of cigarettes but I’m down to play a light game. Go easy on me though, it’s my first time.”

I could see a little red blush growing on his cheeks as he switched out the nicotine for playing cards. Sketch was swift with shuffling the deck, throwing out different tricks he picked up from his guys over the years. It looked like his hands were dancing, the cards forming shapes I didn’t believe did anything helpful but they at least looked cool. With a flick of the wrist cards seemingly appeared from thin air and disappeared nearly as quick.

Between dealing the cards and making tea, there was a silence between us, not unwelcome however it felt out of place. I could read the room, Sketch was uncomfortable and looked like he had a lot on his mind as his hands fidgetted, I could tell he wanted to say something and it seemed important by the way he was mouthing something to himself. It took me a moment to realize he was in a dressier outfit than normal - his usual style being more street wear focused. 

“Are you okay? You seem very uncomfortable with your choice in clothes,” I did not get an answer. Instead, I was dealt a hand and we played while I wondered what was bothering him so much.

We played cards in silence for a bit longer, trying to get as close to twenty one as possible. The only memory I held of my parents was being shown how to play Vingt Et Un by my father before bed; that had to be when I was only a couple years old though and the details are now severely blurry.

Enough time went on sitting and playing in silence, that any conversation brought up was ignored, so finally I dropped my cards and smacked him in the head causing him to jump and nearly fall off his seat.

Apparently, he had missed quite a lot of the game with how zoned out he was, “Sugar? Yeah, give me some of that sweet sweet sugar in my tea. That’s what we are doing.” 

I looked at him crazed and confused, I hadn’t even bothered asking if he wanted sugar, that’s exactly how he always takes it and half of a conversation already went by since I had gotten the mugs ready . I poured water in both of our mugs and handed it off to him, making sure he wasn’t gripping anything but the handle - it was hot after all. 

“What are you working on lately? You seem to be in the middle of a big case right now.” He tried to redirect the attention away from himself and towards me yet again, whatever he had to say is not something he is particularly excited for and puts our card game on pause for a moment while he gathers his pride and remaining thoughts.

“The standard. A very exciting case of a jealous divorcee checking in on her husband’s new accessory. It’s a whole messy thing but not very exciting in the long run, did you want to hear about it?” I could tell that he needs the distraction from whatever it is he has on his mind. Private detective work around Anomie had a lot of repetition, usually a woman looking to stop their husband's affair, or the occasional missing person, though those never seem to come up with anything; it was like they just walked into the ocean never to be seen again. Anomie’s news sources were showing cases left and right of missing people while The Council was staying silent on the topic and that is where I come in, to pick up the pieces that The Council is failing to help with.

“You know I love hearing about your work.” He gave an extended emphasis on the word love, his sarcasm seemed out of place for him being the one who asked to hear about it, however I chose to ignore it. “I kid, please, go on, I really do enjoy it.” Sketch leans forward elbows on the counter in his “listening mode”,

“An acquaintance of mine gave my business information to a woman who was distressed, her husband had been cheating on her for a while and she wanted to find out all of the little details on the affair discretely so she can eventually get back at him, I guess she already did the paperwork for the divorce but hadn’t handed them off to him yet because she wanted to make it a big deal, he apparently kept coming home smelling like quote ‘sweet velvety perfume’ unquote she didn’t recognize” I point at the sweatshirt on the counter, "she gave me his sweater to get an idea of the smell if I came across him, also mentioned his personality changes. I'd say it’s a typical case for me, however while I was tracking him down he just vanished. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I would guess he just found somewhere warm to hunker down in - that’s if you know what I mean.” Sketch reaches over to grab the sweatshirt from the counter and smells it, his eyebrows shifted in a sense that made me wonder if he recognized the smell of it. He immediately puts the sweatshirt down and doesn’t say anything else about the case, I wondered if I gave away too many details for him to ask further questions.

The longer Sketch was there, the tenser the room felt. “Are you off for the night?” I tried to divert the conversation to get him to talk, “You’re dressed surprisingly well for someone who’s going to get paint all over your outfit.” His shirt was silk, dark brown and unbuttoned accessorized with a dress watch and scuffed loafers. Despite being well dressed there was the unmistakable cobalt and chrome paint under his fingernails from his last art piece he had completed with his graffiti crew.

He stood up and did a half assed twirl, showing off his outfit. “Nah, there’s some tension going on with the group right now, they seem pretty distant. If I’m being entirely honest, I was really nervous. I felt like this was something I needed to dress up for. I need to ask you a favor,” while his outfit was for confidence, anything but radiated from him as his hands kept fidgeting and he was stumbling over his words, “do you mind if we step back outside for another cigarette? I need one and it seems the rain has paused again.”

I grab our mugs and we make our way through the window once more. The heat from where I sat before was non-existent now, the cold of the fire escape chilled the bare skin of my legs just below my shorts. 

“So, what do you have going on?” The sweet herbal taste of the tea warmed my stomach from the cold outside.

Stuttered whispers leaked from his lips, “Do you think it’s weird to want to see what’s beyond the ocean, the other side? What if everything is okay over there and it was just all made up as a lie?” A thought that was meant to be shared with a cigarette and those cigarette thoughts were some of my favorites. I knew this was not the question he truly wanted to ask but I was intrigued and bit the bait, “I think it’s pretty natural for humans to want to explore more and expand their territories. History has taught us that humans did everything in their grasps to expand as far out as possible. Science would classify us as an invasive species.”

“I don’t know if you’re getting what I’m saying. Like, so, yes The Council taught everyone that they were destroyed,” He says, “would you take the opportunity to though? To go and see if they’re telling the truth?”

The thought had crossed my mind once or twice, but I have seen the tragedies of what happens on a small island like ours and could not imagine grasping the size they would be before the war. The Council ensures that everyone understands that we could be worse off right now and yet we are granted the small life that we have left to enjoy the last few centuries of humanity; that it is all we deserve as a species. My answer came with a paragraph background of opinions but I simply stated, “just to see what it’s like; leave no trace though. I have no reason to distrust The Council though, what would they even get out of lying? We have it great here, we have everything you could ever want right at our doorstep.”

“I just can’t stand looking at the ocean anymore, seeing the same faces and sharing the same streets with people I grew up around. We know these streets too well, Ears. At any moment you make the wrong move and you could be killed by someone because of an accident if they don’t understand. It’s contradictory,” The jump in the conversation was sudden and unexpected. His voice gets almost angry as he speaks, “The Council is contradictory. We have the technology to remove the territorial traits in animals and now they live in harmony. But The Council doesn’t want anyone to experiment on humans, they don’t want us to go to the mainland. You’d solve the only problem you have with the ‘ forbidden’ technology.” Sketch aggressively finger quoted the air, feeling very passionate about his opinions, it was strange seeing him angry like this.

“My parents…” a harsh inhale and slow exhale allowed Sketch to find the strength in his voice, “- they left and I don’t know where or why or how long for, but they left. They’re just gone.”

“Did they leave a note?” I ask plainly.

“Oh right, yeah I forgot to mention that they left a note telling me exactly where they are and what they’re doing and that’s why I’m here grovelling to you.” I had struck a nerve with him, flinching. By mistake I had shifted into a work persona, detaching myself and starting from ground zero to make sure I got everything right, as if he were just another client. 

“The staff of the house had informed me that there were late night visitors coming by. Always looking for my parents seeing where they were.” A deep whoosh of breath was released from Sketch’s lips, “I’ve always been worried about them, The Council has gotten so strict on their rulings and then also some of my boys were hearing rumours that The Council was involved in those missing people’s cases and they just won’t admit to it.”

I could see where this would make sense, The Council was very good at keeping a tight leash. Their Public Relations team worked overtime to spread their pro-eden and anti-mainland propaganda throughout the city, and many high ranking gang leaders that challenged them suddenly went missing. However these newer missing people cases were all nobodys, they were the opposite of them and many of them didn’t have enough enthusiasm for life to challenge their situations, so why The Council would go after them would be going against their support.

“So you think your parents are getting too big in their experiments?” An awkward laughter comes out of my mouth, “your family has worked side by side with The Council for years, jumping to their needs.”

Sketch gets loud for a second before lowering his voice, “People don’t just come for visits late at night with guns because you’re doing a good job. They don’t sit and wait for them to come home watching you come and go because it’s the neighborly thing to do. These were scary people, Ears. I couldn’t imagine my family going against The Council, there’s too much to lose.” 

I questioned if he had gotten any other information from his staff, with only a mention of a locked office door and an empty pantry.  Churning with ideas and strategies, my brain is a train on tracks knowing the station is just up ahead. I lean back and sooth myself softly stroking my porcupine quill necklace in thought. The blue neon glow pulsed with my heart beat, making sure I always know who’s waiting for me at home.

Recalling back to when we were young, Sketch’s parents were fairly wealthy and had the means to take me in after my own parents disappeared. We spent a lot of time exploring the large mansion playing spies and hide and seek.

I guess you could say they expected the village to help, quite literally, and left us in the hands of the staff and citizens of Anomie. The staff of the house had taught us everything we grew up to use, art and science, psychology and observation. He was right though, his parents did not keep secrets. On the few occasions that Sketch’s parents were home they gushed to us about their work.

Sketch stood next to me patiently waiting for me to think the details over. Finally, I say, “If the office is locked, could you find another way in?”

Shaking his head no, he says, “No dice, checked everywhere I could’ve thought a hidden key would be and nada. I couldn’t even get ahold of his keychain long enough to try it on the door, but I did recognize the keys well enough to know there was not anything that would work. The windows on that side of the house don’t open either and are thick glass otherwise I would have tried to climb through them.”

“Have you noticed a routine with his behavior while they were home? Something that might occur right before your pops enters his office?”

“The third day I noticed of his office being locked, I noticed that when he would come home from the lab, he’d make himself something to drink in the kitchen and then head upstairs,” Sketch pauses for a second to take a drag of his cigarette, the warm glow illuminating his face, “then, he goes into the bathroom next to his office taking the drink inside with him. Then goes into his office.”

I snort and choke on my spit as I laugh, “You’re telling me that he takes his drink into the bathroom with him? Is he drinking it while peeing?” I giggle some more, “The endless cycle of water to pee.”

I could see a grin sneak up through his concern, “Ha, yeah actually, that’s funny though.” He leans against the building, “There’s a small table right outside the bathroom where he could set it, but he takes it in with him. I think it’s incredibly gross, but I went and looked through the bathroom checking the drains and tanks, but came across nothing.”

I could sense that there was a lot of stress behind those eyes and a little bit of a feeling of failure in his voice. 

“I’ve been freaking out and staying with a friend, it feels wrong to stay there for now, what if they were hunted by someone or The Council and they’re going to come for me next?” The anxiety reflects in his thinking, the panicking and paranoia taking hold for a moment. Flashes of blue danced across the wall as Naald picked up on Sketch’s racing heart. “I keep finding things where they shouldn’t be. The employees don’t stay in the house overnight anymore so I know it’s not them, they are scared too.”

He continues, “I love my parents, but as worried as I am about them, I want you to also find out what they’re working on, please. I know some think it’s a free for all in the new world and most things shouldn’t be questioned, but I would hate to think they crossed the line.”

I pat his foot as a consolation, knowing that it will take time for him to find peace and come to terms with whatever happens. I had hope that his parents were okay and that it was just another medical advancement for The Council.

“I’ll try my best to find out for you, but if it’s something you’re not going to like will you be okay with that?” Harmonizing the cigarette cherries burning kept the silence from becoming deafening. He tosses the butt over the side and grips the railing of the ladder to descend, stopping at eye level to me. “You’re good at what you do,” His eyes sparkled with tears and spoke softly, “you listen even if it sounds crazy. I would rather hear the bad news from you than anyone else. You be safe. Get some sleep first.”

My work was going to be cut out for me, I could not let Sketch down. The kitchen table became a new work space, pages of notes sprawled haphazardly replaced with blank pages as I collected my thoughts and information on paper and gathered supplies for the trek. 

I started to yawn - once then twice more. Listening to Sketch was a brotherly annoyance, I knew he was right but I did not want to hear it from him: getting some sleep was a priority, I did not want to make dangerous mistakes by being tired. I drew the blinds and closed the curtains to crawl into bed, the glowing pulse of Naald’s quills synced with his breathing and my heartbeat was a rhythmic night light, helping to drift me into sleep.