We found Mr. Finkle floating in the day old bath water. What the Homo(cide) Team thought was a routine suicide was, of course, more then what they expected. From what they said, the man had uncovered his datajack and dunked his head underwater. I knew better. No one was that stupid, even if it was a suicide. Everyone knows that if you shorted out your datajack, you would experience more pain then you could ever imagine, then either turn in to a vegetable or a cadaver.

    They drug the bloated body out of the tub. Placing the corpse on the table one of the sergeants called in the coroner. The man's name was Smite, Dr. Thomas Smite. The doctor was in his late forties. He was quite short, and looked like at one time he was a powerfully build individual, now, most of it has gone to pot. The harsh white light reflected off his balding head as he bend over to have a quick look over of the body. Tom reached into his white lab coat and pulled out a pair of small lensed, wire framed glasses. With the keen eye of a master jeweler, the doctor methodically examined every single square inch of the pale, bluish remains of Mr. Finkle.

    "Harvey, come over her a second," he said to me. "Your the cybertronics expert here, tell me what you think this is." I followed his finger to where it was pointing.

    "You mean the burn marks, what else did you exp. . ."

    "NO! Not the burn marks, look a little closer at the datajack and take a whiff while your down there."

    I move closer to the datajack. There seemed to some sort of purplish corrosion around the outside of the jack. I sniffed cautiously, my nose was instantly filled with the acrid smell that could only be related to synaptic leakage. "Arrgghhh, Synaptic Leakage."

    "You smelled it too? You there," He pointed to one of the officers against the wall. "Yes you, sergeant. What was Mr. Finkle's profession again?"

    "Ummmm, I believe he was a Johnny, sir."

    "A what?!?!"

    "A Johnny, an messenger of some sorts. Carries info in his head."

    "You don't say?"

    "Yeah, there populat, and safe."

    "How so?"

    "Well, the informatioon in the there head is encrypted. They don't know the decryption code, which is noormally random screen off the T.V. I heard it's quite painful when they put all the info in your head. I saw one guy actually start bleeding from the ears and nose.:

    "Damn, why would someone what to do this? I sure as hell wouldn't."

    "The pay is great. It's usually 30,000¥ or more per deal. The only thing is that everyone wants your head. And people can't shoot you in the head cuz you don't know who they are carring info for. You kill the messanger and the poeple who hired him will come for you."

    "So there Johny'w get all the money, the babes, and all the protections that they want?"

    "That's how it seems. But they stilled get killed. Don't get me wrong, if someone wants to screw over your boss, your dead, point blank."

    "Hot damn. I'll never understand all you computer freaks."

    "And we don't want you too. If we did, then we would make the computer easy to use. and give them free to the public." I laughedhysterically. Tom just shook his head and turned back to the late Mr. Finkle.