《Old Mans Shadow》 Chapter 1 Old Mans Shadow Chapter 1

A Pearl in Disguise

¡®Plenty of people, lots of them . . . too many - in this wretched forsaken city they call, Ascension. Too many views, too many ideas, too much. Everybody here is too full of themselves, nobody wants to listen, everybody has some sort of blessed idea of what makes us right.¡¯ The mind numbing sounds of energy pulsating through the metropolis echo around every corner. A silent, yet . . . ¡°there¡± type of noise - quiet, eerie, lifeless. The overtowering buildings shadow the gritty, messy streets - dark and depressing. Jim jabs himself with a needle, his veins pop out, almost wanting to burst from out of his arm. He stands up, walking around his apartment, and a quick glance from out of his window - rain drizzling down the glass planes. It would seem as if the night had hit. But it was only 12:43 PM, in Ascension. ¡®Gargh . . . Guess I should get going¡¯ Jim sighs to himself, sweeping his long hair away from his face. 30 minutes later. An hour passed as Jim sat on the train, thinking nothing, but wanting this ride to be over. People around him, staring at the floor, keeping to themselves, a few on their phones. Silent was the train ride, from the beginning to the end. Even hopping onto the train, to take a ticket, all you need to do is slide your phone across a panel and you receive a ticket - no talking, no interaction, no communication with another soul. Another 30 minutes passes. ¡®Hello, Jim. How¡¯re you going today, what¡¯s been happening?¡¯ the GP said to Jim. ¡®Yeah . . . not too bad, I haven''t felt as bad these past two weeks, actually.¡¯ Jim replied. ¡®Good, good. So . . . what can I help you with on this nice day, Jim?¡¯ GP asked Jim. ¡®Oh, I¡¯ve run out of scripts. Need a refill.¡¯ He replied. ¡®Okay. I can do that for you.¡¯ The GP said, as he started to type on his computer, pulling his glasses down away from his eyes - nearly scrutinizing the monitor as he stared at the blinding white screen. The fact that the room was dimly lit, did not help to exaggerate the screen omitting light. ¡®So, you¡¯ve been feeling well? Nothing happening that¡¯s different from your usual routine? Sleeping well?¡¯ The GP asked Jim. ¡®Sleep has actually been better. Now that I haven¡¯t forgotten for the last few weeks. I¡¯m sleeping more than ever. But I am feeling more lethargic if I am being honest with you.¡¯ He replied. A few hours passed and Jim was settled back at home, staring at TV, flipping through the channels. In this city. Everything is gloomy. And anybody will take advantage of you, if the opportunity is there. Think of Ascension as a dirty, grumpy and merciless metropolis that has long been forgotten about, from all the other planets in the galaxy. This city was their pit. Knocking came from Jims door, repetitive knocks, incessant. He got up to answer it. A long-time friend, Jason ¡®Hey, Jace¡¯. Jim said to him. ¡®Yo, what¡¯s good?¡¯ Jace replied. ¡®Nothing.¡¯ Jace ruffled his way through the door past Jim. Walking straight into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. ¡®Look what I got!¡¯ Jace said, pulling a bottle of whiskey branded as ¡°Merrington¡±, 1 liter, from out of his trench coat. ¡®Aye, fuck I¡¯ve been longing for a drink, mate.¡¯ Jim said to Jace. ¡®Haven¡¯t we all!¡¯ Jace replied, turning on the kettle as he placed the bottle down. Jim grabbed the bottle quickly after, and grabbed a crystallized glass. He was particular about the quality of items. Crystal glasses being one of those things he had to buy, and never sort after normal, ordinary glass. Few hours passed, Jim and Jason were catching up on all of the latest gossips and what¡¯s been happening around them in their lives - they were in good spirits. ¡®Say, you don¡¯t remember that time you found that big-ass rock do you, still got it?¡¯ Jason asked. ¡®Oh yeah I do actually, should be in one of those bottles over there¡¯ Jace replied, pointing to a few old big bottle jars. Jason walked over, looking into the bottle and seemed to be quite fascinated by all of the objects that had garnered over the years. ¡®Jim. I can¡¯t see it.¡¯ ¡®Well it¡¯s there, mate.¡¯ Jim responded. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Having another look. Jason then started to scramble his hand around into the bottle, and shake it a bit to see if he could find it through all of the other items in the bottle. ¡®Ah! Found it.¡¯ Jace said, grabbing it from out of the bottle. ¡®What¡¯s caught your curiosity about that rock, mate.¡¯ Jim asked. ¡®It¡¯s just cool.¡¯ He laughed. ¡®Yeah . . . ¡® Jim said almost sighingly, wondering what he was on about and why the rock. It¡¯s not like Jim had a lot of cool peculiar things in his apartment. But the rock certainly was not anything special. So why the interest in such a bland thing. For one, Jason wasn¡¯t even there when Jim had found it. ¡®Anyway, I¡¯d better be off.¡¯ Jace said to Jim, satisfied from his discovery. ¡®Okay mate.¡¯ Jim said. The two walked towards the door. Jim is readying to say bye, and Jason is smiling, grabbing a cigarette from out of his coat. ¡®Well, cya dude¡¯ Jason said. ¡®Bye.¡¯ Jim said back, smiling but almost forcefully. The night came over and 8 hours later, the sun started to rise once again. But it¡¯s not like you can tell in this city, Ascension.

Ascension

A large battleship came crashing down into the heart of Ascension. Destroying and causing havoc to many towering skyscrapers of colossal proportions. People screaming for their lives, large fuming fires, explosions all around. Sirens from police and firetrucks and ambulances were smothering the scene of where the ship had crashed. News reporters took to the scene as well. ¡®Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We have devastating news today. A large C.O. battleship has crashed this evening, leaving 1000s injured, 100s have been left with life-threatening injuries. Firefighters, ambulances and police officers are helping to decrease the severity of this catastrophic event.¡¯ Jim shuts the TV off. ¡®Pfft, fuck.¡¯He says under his breath. Getting up to make a sandwich, he looks out at the city through the icy cold windows. He sees no sign of movement once again. Afterall, why would he? He is 1000s of miles away from the crash. But still. Something irks him the wrong way. Like this city has zero sympathy and shows purely complete apathy, to everything and everyone. He goes into the toilet to jab another one into him, then flushes the toilet and takes his sandwich from the shelf waiting for him outside the loo. Finishing it, he goes outside his apartment into the spiraling staircase of cement for a smoke. A couple of people walk past, heads to the ground, hoodies over their heads as well, as if to shade their faces - as if they have done something mischievous. Jim often thinks to himself, how¡¯d it become like this. A place full of quietness and darkness. But then on the internet. It thrives. Not in a good way though. But in a violent, malcontent sort of way. No one has compassion anymore. Was it the robots? The robots that now take every job for us so we can just sit at home, stale and lifeless. Living off of ¡°Extreme Unemployment Benefits¡±. These robots have taken the very essence of our souls, so we can literally just sit at home. Doing absolutely fuck all. No incentive. No drive. No nothing. Can we complain? What do we have to complain about? The robots take care of us. We haven¡¯t got something to complain about. It¡¯s not like we¡¯re not getting paid to sit on our fat asses. We have lost the will to live - a drive to make us keep going. We¡¯re like some styrofoam that floats on the surface of the ocean, drifting. Jim lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. Lights are off. No sound can be heard, except for the air conditioner. Two weeks pass and a memorial is being placed after the officials cleaned up the crash site. Many flowers and pictures lay at the site. But no-one was there. A week later. ¡®Kid just singin¡¯ the old tune blues, jus¡¯ waiting to die, fixin¡¯ for a dime¡¯ Few people clapped and continued on with their business. Jim sat his guitar down near the wall behind him and walked down off the stage to the bar. ¡®Usual, thanks mate.¡¯ He slid some of his hair away from his face and drank the glass in one go. Then head on out into the streets. It was the usual nightlife, strippers, scum, shady looking characters all around. In clear sight you can see people injecting, just sitting there drooling onto the pavement. Women hitting on anybody that goes too close - most likely have some sort of disease that is contagious. Jim continued his walk back to his apartment and just as he got to the building a crack fucked old fella started mouthing at him. ¡®Oi ya fuckin¡¯ cunt! Pick that up ya fuckin¡¯ mut.¡¯ He said. Jim paid no attention to him and walked up the large flight of stairs to his place. Four months passed and nothing out of the ordinary had happened since the incident in the heart of Ascension. The flowers that were once at the site have vanished, and all that is left is lots of sticky tape, stuck to the fences from where cards were left and photos of loved ones. Some knock on Jim¡¯s door. Jim ignored it this time. Again, the knocks happened but louder. ¡®The fuck is it Jace?¡¯ Jim whiningly said as he got up off the couch, noodling with his guitar. ¡®Mate!¡¯ Jace said, as Jim opened the door reluctantly. ¡®You know that rock?¡¯ Walking hurryingly towards the bottle where the rock sat. ¡®It¡¯s worth a bit.¡¯ ¡®Huh?¡¯ Jim said, with his eyebrows creased, looking pissed for ¡°intruding¡±. ¡®Yeah, it¡¯s actually like 10,000 if it¡¯s what I think it is.¡¯ Jason said as he searched for the rock. ¡®Where is it?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s in there mate.¡¯ ¡®I can¡¯t see it?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s there, mate.¡¯ Jason then spots it and takes it out. ¡®Yeah let me just check.¡¯ He says, pulling his phone from out of his pocket, pointing the camera at it, to scan it. ¡®Dude. If this is it, then it¡¯s literally the stuff they use to make that heart.¡¯ Jace says, squinting his eyes, looking in admiration at the rock. ¡®Ascension?¡¯ Jim asked. ¡®Mhm.¡¯ Jace says, and shortly after the phone completes its scan. Coming up on the phone with a lot of analytical information about the rock. ¡®Yeah mate, this is worth something.¡¯ ¡®How much?¡¯ ¡®Around 300 to a thousand.¡¯ Jim looked at Jace, with his eyes wide open, mouth firmly shut. Amazed by what Jason just said. ¡®Mate, come on. We¡¯re going to the ¡°pawno¡±.¡¯ Jim said. ¡®¡¯K, let¡¯s rock!¡¯ Jason said, excited. They caught a cab to their local pawn shop, to see the value and hopefully sell it. As they started talking to the man there, asking about the value of the rock. The man stood there and was honest and spoke about how it¡¯s actually worth quite a lot right now, because of the incident a few months back. As they were now searching for more of the rare material for a new heart for the Ascension city. The man there, that usually tries to snatch a bargain or a ¡°steal¡± , had a lot of integrity. He wasn¡¯t actually sure by how much this rock was worth, but warned them that it¡¯s more, beyond what they would presume it actually is. He finished his sentence by saying, ¡°It¡¯s a pearl in disguise¡±. Chapter 2 Old Mans Shadow Chapter 2 Thoughts Running Wild Jim was walking through the streets of Ascension, smoking a cigarette, keeping his head down as he passed strangers. A few would spit at his direction. Some would even attempt to have a go at him. He just ignored it. He would often contemplate how rotten this citizenry is and how it could possibly get this bad. How, and why. There was rubbish scattered through every turn of the streets, trash, piled on top of each other. And I am not joking here. But you were not able to see the pavement of roads, or footpaths. It was plastic bags, bottles, paper, cigarettes, syringes, you name it - inundated the streets. On top of this. It was always gloomy and miserably dark, as the gigantic skyscrapers towered over, shadowing the bottom. There were five levels of the city. Each level of the city depicts the level of ¡°class¡± of the people that dwell there. You have hobos, the extremely impoverished at the bottom level, then above that, it¡¯s the poor, the scrapers. There are no middle-class or rich people that live in Ascension. Whatever level you are living on. It¡¯s a miserable, fucked city - metropolis of junk. Every corner you would see scum jabbing themselves with some sort of addictive drug. Usually an opioid. Then you have the disease carriers. Usually the prostitutes - or the sick. They carried no protection, no masks to keep the sicknesses from spreading. They couldn¡¯t give a flying fuck for all they care. It¡¯s merciless here. In Ascension. Huh . . . funny name for such junk. Huge behemoth garbage trucks flew over Jims head. Orange flashing lights lit up the surroundings as they kept on driving. Self-automated. No drivers were present. And what¡¯s worse. These goliaths stop for nobody. As the months passed and years swept over, the city became more and more depressing. Jim was growing old, gray hair started to grow from his scalp. His beard thickened. He was standing there in the shower, just letting the water rush over him. Mindlessly, standing there. His apartment was always dark. Lights off. Only thing that had a light was the TV. The building was as quiet as it could possibly be. Occasionally you would hear yelling and screaming, babies crying, coughing as well. But not much. It was stale and without any soul. It had character. But not the good sort. Jim and Jason had stopped talking to each other, after Jason suggested to Jim that he should sell the rock to the Officials. The Officials that run this city. But Jim doesn¡¯t mind selling the rock. He couldn¡¯t give a damn about that. What he has a problem with though. Are the people that run this place. He fucking hates them. He wishes he could rip each and every one of those scummy cunts hearts out. He wouldn¡¯t mind going to jail. If it meant those fuck-tards weren¡¯t alive any longer. He couldn¡¯t stand the greed. The greed of them and the greed of everyone around him. Out of curiosity Jim did have a walk down to a Goods & Trades complex where it was run by government entities. Jim was just curious on how much it would sell for. This rock was important for a piece of the new heart for the city. They offered over a million. A million was a lot. No matter where you are from. Whether it¡¯s from another planet or not. It¡¯s a lot. You wouldn¡¯t be rich. But you would be set for life. He wouldn¡¯t have to live in this building any longer. That¡¯s how much it is. But he didn¡¯t and still doesn¡¯t trust them. He feels as though it¡¯s worth more. Way more than what they are asking for. Jim isn¡¯t any conspiracy theorist. But he has had his slice of life. His fair share of life experience. To see how most of this world operates. It literally makes him sick - a sickening rage over him when he starts to have thoughts about how much greed is run through this city. Not just this city though. But the majority of this world is run like that and through that. It¡¯s how everything operates. And it¡¯s not like people hide this. Or lie to themselves about being greedy. When you are young and going through school. You embedded into your heads that we are greedy. That it is primal, and natural to be greedy. That we should embrace it and utilize this. We are greedy. It¡¯s not a bad thing at all as well. People don¡¯t look at it like that. It¡¯s essential to survival. Call it extreme capitalistic ideology or whatever other fancy words you might have for it. At the end of the day. It¡¯s a fucked way of living. You fuck over others to get a peace of mind for minute or two. Yeah. A minute or two. That¡¯s another thing about this place. There are no goals people have. We veg out. Slumber, eat, repeat. Robots do everything. We don¡¯t have to. We get paid a healthcare benefit through a ¡°Human Rights¡± program. And that¡¯s that. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. A few more attacks happened as the weeks went by. No casualties though. But the market was dipping. People were depressed. More depressed than what they usually are in this city. They had low spirits for anything positive. There was gossip that this city will become a ghost town and that the rich are abandoning their shares of the market in Ascension and letting it truly rot once and for all. Jim didn¡¯t care. He cared, but had an apathy towards everything. Though what spiked his interest a little. Were the attacks themselves. Why Ascension? Why this city? What could they possibly gain from dismantling this city and/or disrupting it. But Jim didn¡¯t give too much thought into it. Jim was at the usual pub. Doing his job, playing the guitar and singing for a small audience - if an audience at all. Usually they were occupied with drinking and enjoying the night with their mates. Talking to one another rather than listening to Jim sing. He didn¡¯t care though - it is what it is, he thought to himself usually. For a bit of a laugh, he let feedback of the amp takeover for a bit, to see heads turn from the sheer loudness and ear-aching noise it creates. Then he apologized - although there was no meaning behind those words. He pulled a few hairs away from his face, behind his ear and jumped down from off the stage. Walking once again over to the bar to get his usual drink. The bartender said some few words to Jim. Something about the attacks. But Jim wasn¡¯t really listening. Once Jim drinks, he focuses purely on that and that alone. He¡¯s not an alcoholic though. He just enjoys drinking a lot - it¡¯s a big difference. Days went by, and the city stood the same. No incidents, no newsworthy news, nothing. Static. A dimly lit apartment in a dimly lit city. Fitting. Especially with the hope of nothingness. Jim would continue playing gigs at a few local pubs as he routinely has done for the last 20 or so years. He enjoys the art of it, whether people listen or not. He enjoyed it. Some strange looking men, who weren¡¯t from the building Jim lives in had told everybody that there¡¯s going to be some construction work going on in the building. A letter came short after they told everyone about that. The letter read that the residents of 660-A Joyrun building must leave within the following 12 weeks. In short. It was a short notice on how people must evacuate their homes. Jim packed a few things and purchased a 4 week stay at a motel. Nothing special about it. Pretty run down as well. The toilet would clog up occasionally. The ceiling was rotting, in the kitchen and a spare room. Beige coloring to the walls, whether it be stains or not. Jim couldn¡¯t tell. He sighed as he got inside and lit up a cigarette. Sitting on the bedside. It was a busier part of town, being next to a gas station. But nothing too busy happens here. Just more, bustling than where Jim usually resides. Jim sat there for a good few hours, noodling on his guitar. Not plugged into the amp though. He just laid down and played chords, notes, up and down the neck. He was bored. More bored than usual. There was no TV, no books, no furniture, nothing. The other residents of the motel were usually pissed at something, screaming, and yelling. Then it would get quiet and you would begin to hear loud moans and banging against the wall. Then it would start to pick up again. The shouting. And that would repeat every day. On the other side of him, was some weird old guy. Kept to himself. Wore strange glasses. Too big for his face. But Jim didn¡¯t really pay any more notice than that. As the days went by, from boredom, Jim started to explore the town a little more. See what happens around these parts of the city. There were a lot of fast food joints, mechanics for vehicles, etc. And the occasional foreign little food shop. Then there was the supermarket complex. It was big, bright, and white. Most kids, and young adults would loiter around there. Acting shady, stealing usually was in clear sight. Poor people that worked at the complex. The security guards did nothing, and it would scare and occasionally rile up the people that worked there that were vulnerable. They had no fighting training. No security training. That was the securities job. But they just stood there, like a big dumb lump of meat. Unaware of their surroundings - dazing off. Once every few months, there would be a stabbing. Hospitals would run to the scene, which would always be at the shopping complex. Because some dickhead thought it¡¯d be cool, or got riled up themselves for no fucking reason other than their immaturity and emotional stunt of growth would kick in and they¡¯d be angered from this. A rage would come over them. And the people that work there have to take the hit . . . that¡¯s just how it was around here, Jim noticed. The construction was done, and people moved back in. Jim actually stayed at the motel a bit longer, as it was different. And Jim liked something different. 1 week later. Jim was back at home, arriving shortly in the morning. Looking around, smelling the scent of his usual smells. Typically a warm, heater smell - of gas, smoke, and booze. Though he noticed a jar was on the ground. Not where it usually was. Closed, but odd. It was the one that contained that rock Jason would always go on about. Jim then got pissed. He guessed someone was in here and had a little look around and helped themselves. Probably knew that rock was valuable and took it. Jim wasn¡¯t going to have any of that. He was fucking mad now. And that madness can drive Jim to a whole new level of pure hatred and spite for whomever stole that rock. What¡¯s worse, was that it was some council worker that works for the stupid fucking people that run this city. So Jim. Was going to have a little talk with them. Chapter 3 Old Mans Shadow Chapter 3 Gigs In our most desperate times, Greed will not fail us, Shine, and you shall fail. Fiddling with the syringe, pricking at the needle occasionally, staring at it, as if looking through it - as if it was ghostly. Jim was heavily in thought, about what he would do to those that wronged him. He then jabbed the needle into his ass, jeans half-way down his legs. He pulled them back up, tied his belt up, and walked outside onto his apartment''s little veranda - lighting up a smoke. The city was silent as usual - grey, beige, rat-infested. Sirens would go off every 30-odd minutes. To add to this, there was no sky to look up at. Instead, it was covered with huge bridges for the higher class citizens to drive upon in their vehicles that floated by, soaring through the air silently. The only thing that flew down in the slums were the huge behemoth-sized garbage trucks that smelt of pure human shit, and beyond off-decaying dead "things". Jim slid his fingers down the neck of his guitar, feeling the bevels of the strings, too innumerable to count. He then fixed his fingers on the first string, and two others on the far strings of the bottom three - which was the Cmaj chord for the guitar. He played it nicely, gently - soft. The electric guitar buzzed, a droning sound. Feedback started to disperse from the amp. The crowd, as usual, were not paying any attention to his playing. The bartender would look up occasionally, but other than that, pay no attention as well. Jim slid some loose hairs away from his face, his mouth made an oval shape as he focused and doubled down on his playing. It was Heavy Rock, Krautrock in origin. He was in a mind of peace when he played, and this time was one of the best "flows" he had felt. He then started to play a riff on it, and let it flow, playing for a long nine minutes straight, of a pure riff. Then he finished up with another loud flick of a string and the amp went wild, feedback was as loud as ever and you could hear it from out of the bar. The people there stopped and looked in his direction. The bartender as well, turned around and stopped what he was doing. Jim was in the "flow state". And he loved it. And for once, so did everyone else there. Holding onto his guitar in a soft-shell case. He made his way to another club which was not too far away. The usual people walked past him, prostitutes, shady scums, addicts - alcoholics, substance abusers. Occasionally you''d have people mouth off at him once again. But he paid no attention. It was so typical here, and he has lived here all of his life to know the ins and outs of how everything "rolls" here. Weeks passed by and nothing new had changed. So Jim thought that it was time to make his way down to the council building. Jim got there, burst open the doors, ate chewing gum and walked fast towards the clerk''s desk. Buzzing the bell impatiently and aggressively ''Hello!?'' Jim said with a huge frown on his face. Again ''HELLO!''. ''Hello, I''m sorry to keep you waiting, and thank you for your patience. How may I help you today?'' The clerk lady asked. ''Took a rock mate!'' Jim said abruptly. ''Took a rock from my home, you did!'' Chewing his gum louder and louder. ''Where is it? I want it back! NOW!'' The woman looked confused and startled. She didn''t have any clue as to what he was talking about. The rage in Jim was so much that it was overwhelming to her. Another person came over to him. ''I''m sorry, but we''re going to have to ask you to leave--'' ''I WANT MY FUCKIN'' ROCK MATE! ONE OF YOUS STOLE THE FUCKIN'' THING!'' Jim yelled! The lady and the man there, stood idle but an utter shock ran over their faces. ''WHERE''S ME FUCKIN'' ROCK!'' Police came into the building. Walking over to angry Jim. ''I WANT M--'' Jim yelled again - starting to sob and lose control of his emotions quickly. ''Come on, mate. Off we go.'' One of the strongly built police officers said, grabbing him gently by his arm. Jim scruffled and screamed in absolute rage. Spouting utter nonsense and a cry for help - in a way. He was so lost in his emotions that he had no comprehensible words that could be conveyed to them. The police officers grabbed him firmly this time and carried him out of the building. Jim kicked over a chair, slipping out from the officer''s grab. ''GIVE ME M'' FUCKIN'' BELONGINGS BACK, YA FUCKIN'' CUNTS!'' Spitting on the ground, out came his chewing gum. His hair was all messed up, ruffled and greasy from sweat. Eventually, the cops managed to get him out of there. They took him to the police office, to interview him and ask what was happening there and what was wrong. Jim explained to them after a while of slowly calming down that they took a rock from his home and explained that the rock was valuable to him. They explained to him that he would have to go to court after that incident he displayed. They were understanding enough of Jim, but looks of worry came over their faces as they evaluated him during the interview. They were worried about his health. Mentally. So they asked the obvious. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ''Uhm, and do you take any medication of any sort, Jim?'' The police officer asked Jim. ''Yeah, mate. I take aripiprazole.'' Jim replied. ''Oh okay. And are you still on that? You go to the doctors regularly?'' The officer asked. One other officer wrote some stuff down. Another mumbled some stuff to another officer there. ''Yeah. But not regularly.'' ''When was the last time?'' ''About a year or so ago mate.'' The police officer looked at Jim with a firm look. A look of worry, and compassion it seemed. Jim was looking at a wall over in the distance, his eyes seemed lifeless - beady eyes. ''Well, mate. What we''re going to do. Is we''ll take you home, mate? And we''ll be visiting you sometimes. Just to check up, okay? Just to see how you''re going. We''ll look into that rock, mate. I''m sorry about that. In the meantime, please be more careful how you approach people, okay?'' The officer laughed softly, grinning. He was a sympathetic officer. Which Jim found odd. And rare. The officer patted him on the shoulder and opened the door for Jim. Jim walked on out, following the policeman to his car. The two were quite silent during the drive but the policeman did crack a few jokes which Jim smiled at shyly sometimes. Days passed, and no news of Jim''s rock was heard about. And as the weeks went by, the police did visit him from time to time. Jim started seeing the psychiatrist more often as the police suggested eventually as they grew closer. Especially with Keith Clarke. Which was the officer that initially talked to him. Six months later Jim finished up a gig and to his surprise saw that Keith was watching him perform. He saw Keith smiling and clapping after the show. Jim a bit shocked, walked on over to Mr. Clarke. ''Hey mate, how''s going? Fancy you being here, mate!'' Jim laughed as spoke. ''Just passing through, thought I''d come and stop by, see how well you are at the guitar mate.'' Keith said, laughing back. ''You''re alright, actually!'' ''Ya reckon, mate?'' ''"Alright . . . "'' He stressed on that word, Keith did. Jokingly, of course, to stir Jim up a bit. The two were a lot closer these days. They seemed like they had become friends with one another. Jim seemed relaxed with him around. And Keith was the same. ''We''ve found something about that rock of yours, mate. Some guy called Gary?'' Keith said to Jim. ''Yeah? Do you reckon you guys could get it? You allowed to or whatever?'' Jim asked. ''Sure. Down the week, we''re going to go visit him, ask him about a rock . . . Y''know.'' ''--K . . . Clarky if he has. Get it. Really.'' ''I know, I know. I will mate.'' Keith said, scratching the back of his head, and looking down to the ground for a second. Jim lit up a smoke and walked out the back of the pub into an alleyway. There were a few feral cats, and rats scaling the wall''s edges. Huge overflowing waste bins were hugging the walls as well. And occasionally a cleaner would come along, and drop some more garbage onto the bin, where it would fall onto the ground.''It means a lot to me that rock, mate. It''s worth a bit.'' Jim said to Keith. ''How much?'' Keith asked. ''Around a thousand. Probably a lot more.'' ''Really!?'' ''Yeah . . . '' Jim said, butting out his cigarette on the ground with his boots. ''I''ll get it, mate. Y''know how this place can be though . . . '' Keither said reluctantly. ''I know mate, I know. Just if I could get in there, and grab it. It''d be no problem. But I won''t mate. I know how''d you feel about that.'' Keith laughed and said ''Yeah, yeah. It''s my job, mate. I got to, y''know?'' ''I know.'' Jim replied. At the home of the thief, two weeks later ''I don''t have it, I swear.'' ''Well, mate. We know you took it. We have you on camera mate.'' ''I know. I did. But I don''t have it.'' ''Well who has it now, mate?'' ''Some Official. They snatched it from me, without explanation. Said to me that it''s not mine and stormed out, leaving the door wide open.'' Keither looked at the thief with a great surprised look on his face as the thief told Keith. His eyebrows were as wide as ever, and his eyes open as they could be. Mouth firmly shut. ''Okay. Do you know what they looked like?'' Keith asked the thief. ''Dark hair, fat. Suits.'' ''Okay, anything else? Did they say what agency they came from?'' ''Nah.'' The thief replied. The other officer beside Keith wrote everything down, and another officer was taking pictures of the thief''s apartment. Later, they went back down to the police station. And asked for a Stat-Check of Official buildings in Ascension that are nearby. None were found - or officially listed. So Keith drove back down to Jim''s apartment and explained to him the story. And then Jim said something of value to Keith. He explained to him how a pawn shop owner told Jim and his friend that it was highly sought after and more valuable than what it was listed as. That it is made of the same material the Heart was made of for Ascension. Keith was amazed by the details and drove back down to the station once again. Another Stat-Check they did. And this time with added information. To their surprise. A few came up this time. They were seeking Ascension Heart materials as well. Listed as a Priority. Keith knew one thing about Officials. And it is when they say that it is a "priority". It means that it is EXTREMELY SOUGHT AFTER. The next few days during work and after hours. Keith began to research the materials used for the Heart of Ascension. He studied it nearly 17 hours long each day. Write down any important details. Getting it fact-checked back at the office and so on. This was an investigation. But a secret, personal investigation. He didn''t know how to feel about this. But he knew that Jim was wrongly done.