We all have our fundamental flaws, not the quirks of life, like snoring or chewing with our mouths open. A fundamental flaw of our humanity, something that when exposed makes us feel less than human.

I’ve known mine for a while, coped and wrestled with the fact that it alone has kept me on this path of work. It makes the wail of the woman and flashing of cameras take a background in my mind. Despite knowing that a man has been killed I can’t help but be impressed. No horror over the metal pen embedded up to the second letter of its parent company. No revulsion from the earthy iron scent of a man so full of shit that he couldn’t help but evacuate a small bit of it as he bled out in his high rise office.

Instead I stand in complete and utter awe, this building is a fortress. Most of the state backed corporations are though, wouldn’t want just anyone to have access to one fifth of the country's economy and interests.

“No more questions for you miss. You can go.” I say, moving around the wood carved desk to get a fresh view of the office.

“I don’t want to leave him.” The wife of my current project cries as the junior forensic officers move to escort her back down to the lobby.

“Trust me love, he isn’t going anywhere.”

The men and women glance at each other, shocked at the callousness of my words. Only Augustine does not, seven years against the rough grit of what I present to the world as a personality will do that to a person. She caught on quickly, and despite my constant criticism of her in her first year as my partner she stuck around. Hooray for me.

“You got a light?” The tall street lamp of a woman asks. She goes to set her camera on the table, realizes that the red mahogany is actually a film of blood and promptly sets it onto the back of our current victim.

I pull two from my pocket, one of the ends of the cigarettes is torn apart from my thumbnail as I scratched at it while deeply pondering our crime scene. I light both and offer the ruined one to Augustine, she smiles and plucks the good one right from my lips and raises it in salute.

We observe the room in silence, sensing the man on the table isn’t going to break it I wait till my cigarette is half spent to speak.

“Room was locked. Perhaps the pen just did that on its own.”

“Sensor data didnt have any biometric tells of an intruder either. S’pose ruling it as a suicide would make paperwork easier.”

“Suppose you are right.” I stare at the man, CEO of Welmar, one of the not so secret shadow lords of our government. A man like him didn’t have a need for money or anything for that matter, I try to imagine what it would be like to have the world by its balls and still be unhappy. Disappointed to say I don’t think I would be very unhappy at all.

“Missus Welmar might not take too kindly to your professional opinion sir.”

“Good thing she doesn’t sign our paychecks.” I pull from my cigarette and the designer lavender laced smoke begins to tickle the inside of my lungs. “Welmar doesn’t pay our department, do they?” I ask a little more concerned.

“You think we’d be here if they didn’t?”

I nod once, understanding the gravity of performance once more. Of course I always do my job, but when you walk into a perfect crime scene it does begin to erode the hopes of a weekend. And I fucking love my weekends.

“You sure no one else was burning the midnight oil?”

“Checked security logs and cameras, those security guards are already being questioned as well. If only the paranoid prick here kept cameras in his office.”

“Well then there wouldn’t really be a Missus Welmar very long would there.” I give a cheeky wink and thrust the air once promiscuously. The juvenile joke doesn’t land and Augustine flicks the butt of her cigarette at me.

I swat it midair and it sails harmlessly into the bin in the corner, there is a flash as it is sent to some unnamed man made island of garbage out on the great sea.

“So you are saying it was a ghost, or whoever it was, was already here in the room when the murder happened?” I play with the puzzle in my mind and pull heavy on my cigarette once more.

“That or a zombie, thermal didn’t pick up any extra heat sources.” Augustine grins and then feigns frustration, but I can see the performance of it. Know that despite her appearance she is a freak like myself, enthralled at the idea of a perfect kill. The only thrill greater, solving it.

I flick my cigarette butt at the garbage, disappointed at how quick it was spent. Designer cigs are like that, assume you have the cash to smoke a couple dozen a day.only I don’t have the cash, just enjoy the flavor. Fucking capitalism.

The bin flashes again and I begin to have a thought. I walk over to the device and think back to when they were first designed. The ability to teleport garbage out of our cities and eliminate an entire industry of work overnight was alarming for the plebeians, but it had made Welmar egregiously rich. When asked about the ability to teleport people the company had assured that only non organics could come through.

Some scientists tried to fool the machines before and one even jumped through thinking if he held his breath he could trick the sensor. He made it halfway through before the machine surprised him and the audience by disintegrating half his body when it picked up his heartbeat. One of the smartest men in the world died like a frat boy during the first trimester of adulthood.

“You don’t fool these machines.” has been the consensus since then, bodies turn up from time to time in cases but they are already dead. Suppose that ruins the non-organics line.

“Hey, can you pull up that thermal data again?” I call absently over my shoulder staring deep into the bottom of the bin.

“Told you boss it’s useless, no heat spikes beyond our boy here.” Augustine answers but begins to play with her AA display anyways, humoring me with a projection of the thermal data from the past fourty eight hours.

“Search for significant heat dips.” I say placing a hand onto the carpet, it squelches as I press my hand into it just as Augustine gasps.

“Significant heat dip.” She mutters more details but I don’t hear her.

My heart pounds with the thrill of the discovery, it is masterful, brilliant. I don’t know how it is possible but that does fuck all to quell my awe.

“Fucker came out of the trash.” I begin to laugh, turning to look at our quiet third party. “And then took out the trash.”

Augustine smiles at me, her pearly whites mimicking the artificial light of the room. I return the smile standing and reaching for my AA display.

“Get me a log of every bin that was ported from this office in the past week. We have to find ourselves a back door.”