Please Do Not Resist

"Operator D: 3812122914 commencing order BT/5-0: Clean-sweep. Apprehending guest."
"Hear that, Paulie? Used to call them suspects, now they're guests." Paulie pulled his brother, Ben, a few steps away from the mechanical officer as it arrested the stranger on the downtown sidewalk.
"You gotta be suspected of a crime to be a suspect," said Paulie.
"Hey, what gives?" said the stranger. "I haven't even done anything!"
"This is a lawful apprehension under section 2.A of order BT/5-0. You will be returned to society once you have been cleared of wrongdoing. Please do not resist."
"I've got my family here!"
"You will be returned to society once you have been cleared of wrongdoing. Please do not resist."
"Just let it go, man," said Ben. "Struggle too much and they'll charge for resisting arrest alone."
The man was cuffed to the machine's metal clamp hands, and his wife restrained their wailing daughter. He was taken to a police car which sped him away to the nearest station. There, he would hopefully be released on the chance that he could be quiet long enough to get an attorney. If not, the human officers had ways of incriminating people of crimes they did not commit. Cases are closed quickly, Clean-sweep Operator manufacturers get another government grant, and someone gets reelected.
Something fell from the stranger's pocket, however. The Operator didn't catch it, and neither did the man's wife and daughter as they sulked away with hanging heads.
"What's this, then?" Ben bent down to pick up the object. "I think we finally lucked out, Paulie. You think that's real silver?" It was a heart shaped locket that turned slightly from side to side by the chain in Ben's grip.
"Give it here. I'll take a look." Ben handed Paulie the locket. The metal was dense, yet malleable like real silver. "Could very well be," said Paulie. "Convincing enough for the pawn broker, at least."
Paulie opened the locket, held shut only by a push-button latch. There was a picture of a woman inside, but it wasn't the stranger's wife.
"So, Slick Willie has a girl on the side," said Ben.
"I doubt it. Who holds on to evidence of their affairs? Besides, I know who this is. It's Catherine Lang. Ring any bells?"
Ben scratched the scruff on his chin. "She's not related to that Isaac Harbou Lang guy, is she?"
Paulie nodded. "The wife of a billionaire."
"Hey, not just any billionaire, Paulie. This is the billionaire. The man who first designed the Operators. I'll bet you he'll pay a pretty penny for his little locket. What do you say, Paulie?"
"I think this might be worth more." Paulie revealed something else from inside the locket. It was a tiny, folded note, tucked away inside its upper crevice. He unfolded the note and read silently to himself.
"What's it say?"
"It's dirt, Ben. A secret as dirty as they come. Seems even Lang's wife doesn't know. Forget pennies, Ben. Old Lang will pay millions to hush this up.
"Give it here! Let me read it."
Paulie pulled the note out of reach. "Ben, you know I love you, but what I don't love is your big mouth. If we wanna do this, we gotta do it carefully, and we can't do it alone. Now, what I want you to do is go by William and Son's Pawn. Look for Jack and Stewart. They know people that might be able to help us profit off this. I'll follow you after. Less suspicious if we go separately."
"If you say so, Paulie. Always knew you were the brains." Ben took off at a brisk pace.
Once Paulie was alone, he managed to breathe until his heart reached a steady beat. The note inside was more incriminating than he or Ben could have suspected. That stranger was no simple family man. He was a revolutionary, ready to take down the iron grip of the Operators and Lang Industries in America.
Paulie found the strength in his legs once more, checked his surroundings from left to right, and read the note once more:
My most loyal Karl. My wife can never know, so I must remind you not to discuss business matters when you join us for dinner. We will have time alone to review your new Operator designs. I must admit, I remain skeptical of their ability to pass for flesh and blood humans, or even that each one may be completed in mere months, but you do realize what such an innovation could mean for us? Criminals will no longer be able to leech from the system which should rightfully service hardworking folks like you and I. No more will they be locked in a cycle of lawbreaking and serving reduced time in labor. Your Imposter model, should it prove applicable, might take the place of guests arrested by the Operators. This country will finally have the proper order we hoped for. Honest, reliable citizens living in comfort and repose. Those who choose to cheat and steal may live more productively under Lang Industries' care, and only machines will remain in the center. How's that for the American dream, my friend? If you can manage to complete an individual Imposter within three months, this would fit quite nicely in our incarceration timeframe. Faithfully yours, Isaac.
Paulie knew many people who came back from being imprisoned by the Operators. They told him about the work they would perform in exchange for lighter sentences. To them, swinging a pick in the mines alongside friends they were free to converse with was much more preferable to a longer sentence in a solitary cell. This 'personal choice' was hailed as such a novel idea by the first libertarian president of the United States, some forty years ago.
Lucky for him, Paulie managed to avoid making such a choice. Sure, he and Ben had been picked up by the Operators before, but the brothers were privy to the way the system worked.
"Firstly," Paulie had told Ben, "do not-- and I mean do not resist arrest." Even before the Operators came into production, police had long since been able to arrest someone for no other reason than to ensure they were not guilty of a prior crime. "Secondly," said Paulie, "never speak without an attorney. They're way smarter than you or I, and can save you from a world of pain." Much to the dismay of law enforcement, a proper attorney could prevent one from convicting oneself from the mind games these human officers would play.
William and Son's Pawn rested on Moore Avenue, a regular beat for the Operators to march up and down, calculating the next scheduled arrest in their algorithm. They searched through the citizenry files in their electrical brains, thinking who hasn't been arrested lately? Paulie had evaded them for at least a year, and was due for a clean-sweep. He had to be extra careful.
Ben and Stewart were inside, but Stewart was still speaking with a customer. Paulie passed the time browsing the shop. He came across a glass case which contained multiple lockets, some identical to the one he kept hidden in his jacket pocket. The case was opened just a crack, and Paulie shook his head. Stewart was never good at locking up, he thought.
"Where's Jack?" Paulie asked.
"Operators picked him up," said Stewart. "He bought a stolen item the other day and got found out. Should be out in three months as soon as he points out the seller."
"Three months..." That timeframe made Paulie feel uneasy.
"Hey, it's better than three years, right?" said Ben.
"Zero's best," Paulie retorted. "Anyway, Stewart, I know you and Jack got some connections - people that can make good use of dirt."
"Depends on who's dirty."
Paulie pulled out the locket. "Isaac Harbou Lang."
Stewart turned to Ben and nodded. "Wait here."
Ben looked down and shuffled his feet. He never once looked Paulie in the eye.
"What's the gag, Ben?"
"Gag?" Ben finally made eye contact with his brother.
"I don't like that look, Ben. What's going on?"
"I'm sorry, Paulie, they made me. We made a deal with the cops, but it's good, Paulie, you'll see. Mr. Lang is paying us good, and you'll be out in no time. Honest, Paulie!"
Paulie pivoted quickly on his heels to barge his way out the door, but he was met with three Operators that closed in around him. They identified their serial numbers all at once in a mishmash of letters and numbers that overlapped one another.
"This is a lawful arrest," they said in unison. "Please do not resist."
"Just think about that big payout, Paulie!"
The Operators ushered Paulie back inside where Stewart came back with a human officer behind. He looked quite old and scrawny, as one might look spending all hours in an office desk, or a lab.
"Paul Kirk?" he said.
"Who are you?" said Paulie.
"Karl Kindred, Chief of Police. Pleasure to meet you."
"Most Loyal Karl, I presume?"
Karl smiled. "I believe you have a message for me?"
Paulie remained silent. The Operators reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved the heart shaped locket.
"I must thank you for recovering this from those revolutionaries. If something like this were to get out, it could destroy the delicate balance we've worked so hard to achieve. I'm sure my friend will compensate you handsomely for your efforts. However, Ben, I do believe your brother is due for a clean-sweep. It's only a formality, of course. I'm sure Mr. Kirk's hands are quite clean. Then you both will be rewarded properly in, say three months?"
Paulie didn't struggle or make a sound. He communicated as best he could with his eyes to Ben, looking toward the open case of jewelry. Ben picked up on his silent message, and he meandered over to the case while Karl and Stewart were distracted.
"Your partner, Jack, should be back very soon, and I'll be sure the both of you are rewarded as well for your part in this. Go on and clear Mr. Kirk at the station, please."
The Operators took Paulie away, and Ben shuffled back to his original corner of the room after doing what his brother secretly signaled him to do.
"If it's alright with you, Chief, I think I'll head home. It's been a rollercoaster of a day, you know?"
"Of course, son. Don't you worry about your brother. We'll be in touch."
"Thanks, Chief." Ben paced quickly out into the streets, fingering the heart shaped locket in his coat pocket. He was long gone by the time Karl opened the confiscated locket to find the note inside. It read William and Son's Pawn next to an empty slot where a picture might be.
Category:Crime
Category:Science
Category:RCainTales