Narrator: Raya Kapoor
It was like any other day when I walked into my office, iced coffee in hand. Even though many people would give me strange looks and say, "It's too cold for iced coffee," for me, it was a work ritual.
I hung my jacket on the hook behind the door and sat at my desk. There was no mouse or keyboard—just a single screen, not even a wire coming out of it. It was one of the modern systems.
"Orion, open."
I said to the screen, and it lit up instantly.
There was always that silly logo that popped up when the system booted—a cupcake dressed like a detective, waving its hands with the words beside it:
"Hello, Raya."
Although the system might seem simple at first glance, once that greeting disappeared, the real Orion interface appeared. It was incredibly complex. Even after two years working here, I still found many things I didn't understand.
But despite its complexity, Orion had one simple goal: predicting crimes before they happen.
"Open last completed files."
I said, and five files appeared on the screen—each one labeled with a name and case status.
There were three classifications:
Success – the prediction was correct; a crime occurred.
False – the prediction was incorrect.
Error – something interfered with the result, making it unclassifiable.
Of the five files in front of me, four were marked as Success, and one was Error.
Lately, it had become rare to see any file marked as False. Orion's predictions had been nearly flawless thanks to the Asterix update, a new system designed to increase its accuracy.
This was great news for the company—but a disaster for me. My main job was to assess the reasons behind Orion's results and ensure their reliability.
For example, early in the system's development, there was a spike in predicted crimes linked to poison purchases in the city. The AI flagged them as high-risk.
But what the system didn't account for at the time was the rat infestation that had swept through the city, leading to that increase in poison sales.
So, I re-evaluated "poison purchases" as a crime indicator, and afterward, the results normalized.
Now, with the Asterix update, there was barely any need for my work. And with my contract ending in two months, I had no hope of renewal. Which meant—I'd soon be job hunting again.
The one upside? I had almost no workload. Since the update, most of my time here has been spent sitting around.
I did a lot to pass the time—sometimes watching a movie or show on my phone, other times bringing a book. It wasn't too bad.
But today, I decided to dig around in the system.
"Orion, open recently flagged cases."
I said.
This list contained names of individuals flagged as potential future criminals.
It wasn't technically part of my job—I only worked on completed files.
Many names appeared on the screen, each with a percentage risk and a danger level.
But one name stood out. I thought I might've misread it. No—I knew that name.
I read it again. Then again.
It hadn't changed.
I wasn't imagining it. The name of my ex-husband, Lorenzo Talib, was on the list—flagged as a potential criminal.
"Orion, why is Lorenzo Talib flagged?"
I asked.
A small window popped up next to his name, listing several data points:
Name: Lorenzo Talib
Crime Probability: 83%
Classification: Dangerous
Indicators:
Purchases: Large quantities of alcohol and a pistol.
Search History: Queries about how to hide evidence after committing a crime.
Locations: Visits to an abandoned factory on the city outskirts.
Messages: Threatening emails directed at an unknown individual.
I could barely believe what I was seeing. It wasn't just the shock of seeing someone I knew on Orion—it was him. Of all the people in the city, Lorenzo was the last name I expected to see. He was kind.
Even though he was my ex-husband, I couldn't believe he'd ever harm anyone. He used to feel bad seeing a stray cat—let alone hurt a person.
Despite my hesitation, I decided I needed to call him.
The last time he called me was two weeks ago. I hadn't answered. I'd started to feel awkward about our conversations.
I held my phone tightly, waiting for him to pick up. One minute passed. Then two. No answer.
I tried again. Still nothing.
With every passing second, I questioned my decision more. What would I even say? That I saw his name on a list of potential criminals? That was strictly against company policy.
But I couldn't sit and do nothing. After work, I headed straight for his apartment.
I sat in the backseat as the self-driving car followed the GPS route.
I decided to send him a voice message instead, to let him know I was coming—better than just showing up at his door.
"Hey Lorenzo. I was calling to let you know I'm coming over to visit, if that's okay. So… I'll see you soon, I guess. Bye."
Lorenzo was my ex, sure, but even after the divorce, we'd stayed on decent terms. He often called to check up on me, even though I never once initiated contact.
I never had a clear answer when people asked why we divorced. I usually just said, "We didn't get along," and left it at that.
Truthfully, we had a lot of small, repeated disagreements. Eventually, we both agreed to separate.
I had expected we'd cut ties entirely, but he still called me from time to time.
I looked at my phone—it seemed the message had just gone through.
But there was no need to send another. My car had arrived at his building.
The building was tall but older than those in the city center.
As I approached the elevator, I grew nervous. I knew he lived here—but I didn't know which floor or apartment.
A flood of thoughts told me to turn back and delete the message. What if he was planning something? What could I even do? And he hadn't picked up my calls—maybe he didn't want to talk.
Lost in thought, I was startled by a voice on my right.
"Hello, dear. Are you new here?"
An elderly woman with a warm smile.
"No, actually. I'm looking for someone who lives here. But unfortunately, I don't know which apartment."
She replied,
"That's okay, sweetheart. I've lived here a long time—I know most of the residents. Tell me who you're looking for, and maybe I can help."
"Lorenzo… Lorenzo Talib."
"Ah, Lorenzo! Of course, I know him. Always helps me with my groceries… unlike my sons, who don't even visit me."
I wasn't in the mood for a conversation about her ungrateful children.
"I'd really appreciate it if you could just tell me where Lorenzo lives."
She didn't respond right away—just seemed to think deeply for a moment.
"Forgive me, but… are you related to Lorenzo? I've never seen you before."
Why was she interrogating me?
I answered,
"No, I'm not related. Just an old acquaintance. I tried calling him, but he hasn't answered."
She responded,
"Actually, come to think of it, I haven't seen him in a while. Mind if I come with you, dear?"
Absolutely not, I thought.
But I said with a fake smile,
"Of course. I'd be grateful."
We took the elevator up. Ninth floor. The hallway reeked—same stench as the lobby, only stronger.
We reached the apartment she said was his. I grew increasingly tense.
She knocked.
"Lorenzo, dear, you have a visitor!"
No response.
"Maybe he's not home. I can come back later," I said.
But she insisted,
"He could be sleeping or in the bathroom. Let me try one last time."
She turned the doorknob.
It opened.
Unlocked.
I hadn't decided yet if that was good or bad luck.
She called out again as she pushed the door fully open.
"Lorenzo?"
Her face changed.
Eyes widened, jaw dropped—like she'd seen death.
"Oh my God… Lorenzo…"
She clutched her chest.
I looked past her into the apartment and saw what had shocked her.
The stench hit me first—worse than the hallway.
Blood soaked into the wooden floor.
A pistol lay on the ground.
But the thing that rattled me most?
The laptop screen.
Still lit.
I think—though I wasn't sure—I saw the Orion logo.
But then the screen suddenly went black. I couldn't tell if what I saw was real or imagined.
Oh, and yes…
Lorenzo's lifeless body was lying on the floor.