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    The Lightfield Files
    The Lightfield Files
    The Lightfield Files
    Ebook99 pages1 hour

    The Lightfield Files

    By Donald Roberts

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    About this ebook

    In the distant future all crime and criminals are considered criminally insane and are sent to The Lightfield  Rehabilitation Institutional City.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDonald Roberts
    Release dateFeb 4, 2020
    ISBN9781393948759
    The Lightfield Files
    Author

    Donald Roberts

    Just an old yarn spinner

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      Book preview

      The Lightfield Files - Donald Roberts

      Chapter 1

      Jack Trinity awoke in his new bed, in his new apartment, and in a new city which he now knew intimately... Lightfield.  That’s the way it works.  That’s what the court decided would be a fair and just punishment for his crimes, a list too long.  He had been anaesthetized.

      Jack Trinity was Jack Trinity, though.  He was born into the scourge of the world and schooled in the darkest aspects of inhumanity.  Yes, he remembered who he had been crime boss extraordinaire.  Some said, ‘Satan’s spawn’.  It had been the only life he knew, and he was comfortable with it.  He was good at it and he understood it.

      However, this was Lightfield City and the tables were turned.  The roles were reversed, and all of the psycho-synoptics redirected.  He remembered his past as a cop, not a career criminal.  The conflict in his mind was torturous.  He grimaced.  Images of his victims, all who had died in agony, flashed through his mind every time he woke up, conflicting painfully with all of the murderers he had arrested and sent to jail.

      Jack Trinity climbed from his new bed and found a mirror.  His appearance looked exactly the same, right down to the smallest scar on his otherwise ruggedly handsome face.  Yes, he had always been handsome.  To this, even the news scroungers who had dubbed him ‘Satan’s spawn’ agreed.  He was indeed handsome, sometimes hatefully handsome.

      There was a difference to him now, though.  Instead of being a criminal of the lowest order, he was a cop.  He was a homicide detective, as well as a schizophrenic outcast who still remembered who he had once been and why he was now incarcerated in Lightfield City.  He would either die as Jack Trinity the crime boss or achieve retribution as Jack Trinity the good.  He laughed.

      Jack dressed in a suit, like a cop.  It was a plain, brownish gray suit with a black tie and white shirt, a drab look for a drab job.  This Jack, the cop Jack Trinity, cherished the look, and the job.  So that’s the torment bestowed upon me, seeing myself from two minds.  Huh, I guess this is punishment to meet the crime.

      His cell phone chirped like a happy canary.  It was his office phone.  One side of Jack’s mind made him smile while the other side scowled as he answered the call.  Inspector Trinity.  His voice was flat and dry. 

      His assistant was on the line, his partner.  You better get down here, Boss.  Sergeant Jimmy Long always called him ‘boss’.  There’s another victim; same as the others.  I am already at the scene.  It was found in Mooncliff Park.

      Mooncliff Park, Jack acknowledged.  It was lover’s lane, lover’s leap, and now, murder scene.  How droll, his criminal mind sputtered as his cop mind twisted about, angrily.  This was not because of the location, but because of the circumstance, the parallel with his murdering, criminal mind.  The killer within himself; a side shoot of his career in crime.

      "I’ll be there in a half hour.  Don’t let them clean up before I get there.  I want to see the body.

      It’s bad, Boss.

      No doubt, Sergeant.  No doubt at all.  Because of his other half, the cop knew what he would find.  He pushed the evil out and embraced the part of his mind which was bent on justice.  It hurt because, until that moment, justice had been a foul word.  At least, a cop’s justice was. 

      Jack Trinity’s criminal side cringed before fading into the inner depth of his consciousness, momentarily locked up within a dark and dreary cell of concrete and steel.

      Chapter 2

      Jack the cop knew this city of Lightfield well, just as Jack the crime boss knew his.  They were one in the same, in a sense.  Only this one was more modern, with skyscrapers and flashing video advertisements on the building walls.  This one was a more gothic image.

      His car, like his suit, was plain and drab and loaded down with the usual technologies installed in modern cop cars except that there was no emergency light, just a strobe.  He did not bother mounting it on the roof because the emergency had already passed.  He took the way of least resistance to the park, utilizing his knowledge of the back streets where the traffic was minimal.  He arrived at the blue and yellow police barrier in twenty-six minutes, flashed his badge, and found his way to the victim.  Then, he threw up.

      Like I said, Boss.  It’s bad.

      The MO was different, but the cruelty was identical.  Torture in a way to create the worst pain possible for the longest period of time.  Jack the Monster had used a knife, plyers and a hammer.  His reasoning was born out of satanic insanity alone.  There was no real motive other than lust for suffering.  This killer was far more sophisticated, methodical and effective than his peers.  He made Jack the Ripper seem like an amateur.  Still, the media had dubbed this killer just that, which, Jack the cop realized was fitting to his own crime and retribution.  It was not his crime, though, or that of his evil counterpart.  The one good thing was that Jack the cop had the inside track.  He had his own evil mind to guide him.

      Where do I look?  He muttered.

      What’s that, Boss?

      Nothing.  What do you have so far?  Be detailed.

      Just what you see, Boss.

      I see a corpse, systematically...

      Yeah, I can see too, Boss.  But the killer left no clues.  Nothing, just like the other two.

      Jack’s shoulders dropped.  He could hear the hideous laughter from deep in his mind.  Laughter of the real Jack Trinity; the criminal, the homicidal maniac, the torturer.  It’s a festival of blood, the hidden Jack cried out with glee.

      Shut up!  Jack the cop ordered.

      Sure, Boss.  Whatever you say.  Sergeant Long responded, noncommittally.  He was used to the Inspector’s outbursts from nowhere.

      Not you, Long.

      Long anticipated the answer, grinning.  Okay, Boss.

      Inspector Trinity turned away from the corpse and walked out of the scene.  There was nothing there that would help and whatever the medical examiner came up with would tell the same tale as the first two.

      "Stay here.  Get what you can and then go back to the office and put it all on paper, or

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