Read The Exploding Detective for Free Online

brains. I asked the police if they
always cut open people they arrested like this, and they asked if this was off
the record, and I said it wasn’t, so they didn’t say any more.
    I tagged along as
my prisoners were taken down to the holding cells. On the way, I noticed they
were all wearing neat shiny black rings on their fingers. I asked about these
rings. What did they signify? One of them cleared his mechanical throat and
said in a mechanical voice that the rings had to do with a club they were all
in. I asked if I could join this club, because it sounded like fun, and
sometimes I get lonely, but he said no.
    Everyone was
delighted by my heroic defense of the city - Mayor Safeton most of all. This
was exactly what he had hoped would happen when he had hired me. This was the
kind of thing that gets politicians votes they don’t deserve. He asked an aide
if there was any chance they could get the election moved up to tomorrow. The
aide said he’d look into it.
    I was asked to
make dozens of public appearances and speeches over the next few weeks. I was
glad to do this because it made me feel like a big-shot, and there’s no better
feeling than that, scientists say, but unfortunately, I still wasn’t very good
at making speeches.
    My first speech
was in front of a women’s group - The Pompous Asses For Values - and it didn’t
go over too well. My speech was too brief, for one thing, lasting only a couple
of minutes before I ran out of material and started to stare. And the question
and answer session afterwards got kind of dicey.
    “What moral message
do you feel you are sending to the youth of this city?” asked a pompous ass in
the third row.
    I scratched my
head. “Shit, lady, I dunno.”
    Everyone got all
upset when I said this. I looked around at all the aged angry faces. “What the
shit is the problem now?”
    Instead of
answering me, they just got more upset. I felt I was losing control of the
situation. I made an excuse and left early. “I’ve got to take a shit,” I told
them.
    After a few more
speeches – to groups as varied as The Pompous Asses For Freedom, their great
rivals The Pompous Asses For Liberty, The Pompous Asses For Progress, and The
Pompous Asses For Change - I started to get the hang of public speaking. I
learned not to say anything except what they wanted to hear, like how important
their group was, and how right they were about everything. I learned to make
long speeches instead of short ones, so there wouldn’t be time for questions
afterwards. And I learned not to say “shit” so much. Or so loud.
    While I was
making all these appearances, there were four more robbery attempts on Central
City’s industrial district by the “Napoleon of Crime,” as the papers had
cleverly begun to call him, and I’m proud to say I partially foiled them all.
Twice I fell out of the sky onto some of the raiders when I was trying to leave
town carrying too heavy of a suitcase. Once I blew up when I was approaching
them with a flag of truce and the plans for a nearby fort. And once my jet
exhaust caused a fire that burned down the part of the city they were attempting
to rob. They had to just turn around and go back where they came from,
empty-handed. All of these skirmishes were considered great victories by the
people of Central City. They were glad to be able to cheer about anything at
this point.
    I was enjoying my
new found celebrity, and my bank account was bulging with all the speaking fees
I had been getting, not to mention my hefty weekly salary. And the value of my
autograph had gone up to $180 now. I thought my life couldn’t get any better.
Unfortunately, I was right. My life suddenly got much worse.
    I had just gotten
home one night after serving as Grand Marshal of the Pompous Ass Parade, when
there was a metallic knock on my door. When I answered it, I found a creature
standing there with a note. The note was unsigned, but the writer said that if
I kept meddling in his affairs,