Bottoms Up — E.L. Russell

Educated in mathematics and trained in research, I have spent ten years writing White Papers for corporations on emerging technologies. My current writings reflect an eclectic interest in the impact these new technologies may impose on individuals and social groups. My latest research into programming genetic code and brain development has led to the COHORTS novels: Cohorts ~ Deadly Awakenings and Cohorts ~ Dangerous Conflicts. The series of novels is supported by several short stories that demonstrate people dealing with the personal and social consequences of the emerging science, of Epigenetics; the ability to re-program inheritable genetic code. Through logical extensions of this promising science, new powers emerge, including the ultimate social-network and possibility of extremely long life.

About Bottoms Up

I hope you will enjoy reading this story. It's about a detective, Dick Reeder, whose career was in a downward spiral. To boost his confidence, his Chief gives Dick what he believes to be an easy case to solve. Uniforms nabbed a stoned teenager dumping large water cooler bottles into the City Reservoir. Analysis of the substance shows it to be plain tap water. Dick works the case with some buddies on HomeLand Security. Things are not what they seem.
From the story:
He could see the perp sitting there, handcuffed to the table. Dick liked making perps sit and sweat, but he felt it took longer than necessary for the agents to return.
The agents stood next to Dick and looked at the perp. Harry spoke. “Sorry, Dick, we were waiting on the analysis of the substance.”
“Water?” Offered Dick.
“Water. His heart meds checked out too.”
“Glad I waited. You gonna work him now?”
“You bet. Come in. You can watch.”
It was difficult keeping the perp awake. When he was responsive, he did everything he could to help the agents by confessing to every charge. Whenever they paused in their questioning, he fell asleep.
The agents finished in just a few moments so Dick asked if he could continue. He left the room and returned shortly with two large paper cups of coffee.
Dick gently tugged on the sleeping perp's forearm. “Clark. Wake up. Coffee.” He checked his clothes and haircut. Not a street kid, but nothing special either. He checked Clark's arms and hands for history and saw there were no indicators that he used a needle. He had chemical burns on his hands hat reminded Dick of his own lab schooling. Clark's speech gave hints he was sobering up.