LOS ANGELES NOV. 2019
XXXXXHarry Bryant sat at his cluttered desk and pretended to work, though his mind was occupied with the events of the past twenty-four hours. There was a small knock on the door of his office and a moment later Gaff walked in.
XXXXX"He's gone," he said in the annoying mish-mash of languages known as city-speak.
XXXXXBryant nodded. "And her . . .?"
XXXXXGaff's only response was to lower his eyes. The room was silent except for the thump of Gaff's cane on the floor as he turned and walked out of the office. Bryant picked up one of the empty shot glasses that sat on the desk in front of him and hurled it against the door Gaff had just closed.
XXXXXGod damn it! I work with a bunch of pussies! he thought. They can't bring themselves to shoot a good-looking female skinjob. He knew part of the reason Gaff hadn't retired Rachael. Gaff knew if he had, Deckard would have hunted him down and blown his ass away. Not that it would have bothered Bryant any.
XXXXXHe reached down and pulled a bottle of whisky out of the bottom file drawer of his desk. 'Snake-bite medicine.' That's what his father had called it, although he doubted his father had ever seen a real snake. Grabbing the remaining shot glass, he filled it almost to the top with the clear, amber liquid, then emptied it in one swallow. The alcohol burned as it went down and he savored the sensation.
XXXXXChrist! It's ten-o'clock in the morning and I'm still drinking. His first drink of the current binge had been yesterday afternoon when he'd learned that Dave Holden had been shot. Then a couple more that evening when he'd told Gaff to find Deckard. Then one to celebrate the fact that Deckard had actually shown up. Add to that the several shots he drank everytime another one of the renegade skinjobs was retired and the result was that his bottle was getting dangerously empty.
XXXXXMight as well finish it off. he thought, deciding to forget the shot glass. He grabbed the bottle and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet on the desk. He took a long swallow from the bottle, as his thoughts drifted to his past.
XXXXXBack in my days as a Blade Runner, we had no problem retiring skinjobs, male or female. He recalled the one event that had changed the course of his life forever . . . The Tanhauser Incident.

LOS ANGELES JAN 3, 2011

XXXXX Officer Harry Bryant sat in the lunch room at LAPD Headquarters watching the vidscreen on the wall. He was not alone as the room was filled with uniformed police. The ambient noise of dozens of people all talking at once was silenced when someone whistled and shouted, "Shut up!"
XXXXX On the screen, a female reporter stood in front of the United Nations building. "We all have seen the faces, and we know the names of the victims of the Tanhauser Incident. Now we will learn the fate of those responsible for the bloodshed, a dozen members of a Replicant combat team. A decision which could affect the status of every Replicant on Earth."
XXXXX 'The Tanhauser Incident' referred to the bloody mutiny staged by a group of NEXUS-3 Replicants from a combat unit stationed at the Tanhauser Gate. Apparently, the Replicants decided they didn't like being sent into combat as cannon fodder so they attacked and killed nearly every human being living at the outpost. They were captured when they returned to Earth in a stolen shuttle.
XXXXX On the vidscreen, the reporter put a hand to her ear, listening to the tiny earpiece placed there. "I'm told they're just about to begin so we take you now live to the office of the U.N. General Secretary."
XXXXX The image changed to that of a stately office. An elderly, white-haired man sat behind a large mahogany desk. Looking at the camera, he began speaking.

XXXXX "Greetings, citizens of Earth and the off-world colonies. By now I'm sure you are all familiar with the gruesome details of what has become known as the Tanhauser Incident, so I will refrain from repeating them. Suffice it to say that some action must be taken. If such a thing can happen off-world, it is entirely conceivable that it could happen on Earth. Today we have taken steps to prevent this hazard."
XXXXX "The twelve Replicants responsible for the murders of the human colonists and troops of the Tanhauser Gate colony will be destroyed." The General Secretary paused to take a deep breath which only served to heighten the drama. "Furthermore, effective immediately, all Replicants are banned from Earth. Citizens possessing Replicants are ordered to turn them in to their local police authorities for disposal. Those citizens wishing to retain possession of their Replicants will be required to emigrate to an off-world colony."
XXXXX "You have four weeks to comply. Persons choosing to emigrate with their Replicants will be given priority travel status in order to meet the deadline. In addition, special police units will be formed to deal with those who refuse to comply and in the future will destroy any Replicants who are discovered on Earth."
XXXXX "I know that this turn of events will prove distressing to many of you who rely on Replicant labor but humanity must not be usurped by it's own creations. It is a fine line between man and Replicant, but it is as clear and sharp as a knife blade. These special police, these 'Blade Runners' will ensure that no Replicant tries to cross that line . . . for the sake of humanity."
XXXXX "Thank you and good evening."

XXXXX The vidscreen switched back to the reporter outside. There was a stunned silence as someone turned off the screen. Then the room exploded into a dozen converstions which quickly evolved into a large group discussion as everyone listened to what the others had to say.
XXXXX "No way! That's bullshit! I'm not turning in my Replicant. It's bullshit!"
XXXXX "What are you going to do? Become a felon?"
XXXXX "Maybe," sneered the first man. "They can't make us do that."
XXXXX "They can do whatever they want. They're the United Nations"
XXXXX "My father is going to be pissed. His entire company is staffed by Replicants."
XXXXX "Yeah? Well I want to know who the hell is going to take care of my parents! They're in their eighties and they rely on their 'Dolores' model to help them get by."
XXXXX "I've finally saved up enough money to buy my wife a 'Dolores'. I was going to pick it up next week for her birthday."
XXXXX "At least you haven't paid for it. I've got an 'Alfred' on back-order. I'd better get a refund."
XXXXX "Man, those rich stiffs in Beverly Hills must be going nuts right about now."
XXXXX "No kidding."
XXXXX "Maybe this is for the best. People have become too dependant on robot labor."
XXXXX "Shut up, Tyler! You've never had a Replicant in your entire life. You don't know how useful they can be. They're much more than 'robot labor'."
XXXXX The other man shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it just seemed like a waste of money buying a Replicant to do something a man could do just as easily."
XXXXX "It's called 'Technological Advance'. We invent things to make our lives easier."
XXXXX "Yeah. You have a microwave oven, don't you? Or do you cook your meals over an open flame?" This brought laughter from several others in the room.
XXXXX "That's different," protested Tyler.
XXXXX "No, it's not. A Replicant is a machine just like any other."
XXXXX Another officer came to the defense of young Tyler. "But a microwave oven doesn't walk around pretending to be human."
XXXXX "Who are you to talk? You have a Replicant."
XXXXX "Yes, I do. An old NEXUS-1," admitted the officer. "I don't care for this new 'personality programming'. My N-1 does it's job and doesn't try to be my friend." The debate was beginning to heat up.
XXXXX "The personality program allows a Replicant to act in the manner most preferred by it's owner."
XXXXX "Thanks for the sales pitch, Tyrell," jibed another officer.
XXXXX "'More human than human'," said another, quoting the Tyrell Corporation's current motto.
XXXXX "What do you think, Bryant?" someone asked him. Everybody waited expectantly for him to voice his opinion.
XXXXX "If the U.N. wants to rid the Earth of Replicants, then I'm all for it," he replied.
XXXXX "Shit! That's because you've never owned one, either."
XXXXX "You're damned right, I never owned one! The last thing I need is some imitation man deciding it doesn't like the way I run things."
XXXXX "Oh, come on! That doesn't happen," protested the other man.
XXXXX "Tell that to the Tanhauser colony," retorted Bryant, who was becoming angry. "It's that 'More human than human' crap that frightens me. They're already way too human-looking asa it is, but old man Tyrell won't quit until he's replaced every man, woman, and child on Earth with a Replicant."
XXXXX "Well, if you hate Replicants so much, why don't you become one of the special police?" jibed the officer. Bryant considered this while several others snickered at the remark.
XXXXX "You know, Carter, that's a damn good idea." He turned and headed out of the room. When he reached the doorway, he faced the others again. "Oh, and Carter . . . ?"
XXXXX Carter folded his arms and waited to hear what Bryant would say.
XXXXX "Be sure you turn in your Replicant right away, or I'll be knocking on your door first." Bryant didn't wait to hear if Carter had replied or not. Instead, he went directly to Captain Davis's office.

XXXXX "What can I do for you, Bryant?" asked Captain Joe Davis.
XXXXX "I want to be a Blade Runner, sir," replied Bryant.
XXXXX "A what?"
XXXXX "A Blade Runner, sir. One of the special police assigned to deal with Replicants. You know, from the U.N. speech?"
XXXXX "Now wait just a minute. We don't even know if we qualify for a special unit."
XXXXX "I beg your pardon, sir, but . . . Los Angeles? i'd be surprised if we didn't qualify for an entire precinct. I seriously doubt that everyone in L.A. is going to cheerfully turn their Replicant."
XXXXX "Christ, Bryant, you don't wait for anything, do you?" Captain Davis chuckled.
XXXXX "Sir, I really want to be a Blade Runner."
XXXXX "Fine," conceded Davis. "I'll keep you in mind for the special unit, IF we get one. Okay?"
XXXXX Bryant nodded. "Thank you, sir." He turned and walked out of the office leaving Captain Davis shaking his head in disbelief.

XXXXX With his lunch break now over, Bryant went back on duty, but could hardly concentrate on his work. The thought of hunting down renegade androids was strangely appealing to him. He'd never cared for Replicants and neither had his father who had died about a month before tha Tanhauser Incident.
XXXXX From the day the NEXUS-3's had been introduced, his father ahd warned him that they would be trouble. The androids werecovered by a thick layer of genetically-grown human flesh, which lead his father to call them 'skinjobs'.
XXXXX Now here was the opportunity to rid the Earth of them. Yet the general public was so ignorant of the potential danger, that they were angry over the U.N. decision. He was well aware of the risks posed by Replicants and he wanted to do something about it. Fnally he could work toward something he truly believed in. His mind was made up. He would do anything to become a Blade Runner.

JAN 10, 2011

XXXXXOnce again, he stood before the Captain's desk. Joe Davis regarded Bryant silently for a moment. "Well, Harry, it looks like you're going to get your wish. We've been ordered to assemble a Blade Runner unit." A smile crossed Bryant's face but he didn't interrupt. "You'll find out who else is in the unit at a briefing this afternoon. Now I called you in here because I wanted to tell you why you were selected." Davis gestured for Bryant to sit down and then brought up his file on his computer terminal.
XXXXX "In thge eleven months that you've been on the force you've shot and killed three suspects in the line of duty. Is that correct?"
XXXXX Bryant cleared his throat. "Yes, sir, but may I say that I was cleared of any wrongdoing by a departmental investigation in each case."
XXXXX Davis held up his hands to ward off any further comment. "I know, that's not the issue." He paused for a moment. "Many officers who kill in the line of duty suffer a wide range of emotional consequences as a result of taking a human life, but not you. Why?"
XXXXX "Sir, I believed I was morally justified in each of the killings. In each case, the suspect posed a lethal danger to myself, my fellow officers or innocent civilians."
XXXXX "Could you shoot a Replicant even if it posed no immediate danger?"
XXXXX "Sir, in my mind, the Tanhauser Incident proved that every Replicant poses a danger. If I can feel morally justified in shooting a human being, I think I can find plenty of justification for shooting every Replicant on the face of the Earth," concluded Bryant.
XXXXX "I see," said Davis, nodding. "That will be all. The briefing will be at three o'clock."
XXXXX "Thank you, sir," said Bryant as he exited.
XXXXX Davis leaned back and exhaled loudly. "Damn! I'm glad he's on our side," he mumbled.

THE BRIEFING--JANUARY 10, 2011

XXXXX Harry rushed into the briefing room and took a seat in the front row. There were just six other people in the room. Directly behind him sat Tim Richards and Gary Linn. Both were from the homicide division and frequently worked together. At the end of the aisle to his right sat Sgt. John Stevens. He'd been on the force for several years and was a good man to have around in any situation. Mark Rogers sat behind and to the left of Bryant. Next to him was Dan Baker. They worked the streets just as Bryant himself did although he'd never been paired with either man. Right in the middle of the sea of chairs sat Shaun Sullivan.
XXXXX Of all the men on the force, Bryant liked Sullivan the least. Sullivan came from a rich and influential family, which was the only reason he'd been hired. Apparently, Shaun wanted to play cops and robbers for awhile and his parents were more than happy to indulge his every whim. He'd only been here eight months and had already bought himself a cozy desk job.
XXXXX "Great," thought Bryant sarcastically. "Now he wants to be a big, bad Blade Runner. I bet he'll be bagged by a skinjob in a month."
XXXXX "Now that we're all here, let's begin," announced Davis, who stood at the front of the room.
XXXXX Bryant raised a hand. "Excuse me, sir, but is this the entire unit?" He indicated the other six-people seated around him.
XXXXX "Yes. Do you think a seven man team unit is excessive?"
XXXXX "I find it insufficient. As I told you before, I don't think the citizens of Los Angeles are going to be too excited about losing their Replicants."
XXXXX "Regardless, the U.N. specified a seven man unit and that's what I've assembled. Now, can we continue?"
XXXXX Bryant shook his head in disbelief as he sat down. "Yes, sir."
XXXXX "You have been chosen to be members of the special police unit assigned to track down and destroy all Replicants in the greater Los Angeles area."
XXXXX "Excuse me sir," interrupted Sullivan. "Destroy them? I thought we would be bringing them in for shipment off-world." Bryant snorted in disgust.
XXXXX "The off-world colonies can't handle that many Replicants. The U. N. wants them destroyed. If any of you aren't clear on that, it means you find them and shoot them dead. Is there anyone here who can't handle that?" No one raised their hand. The room was silent. "Good," continued Davis.
XXXXX "Now, the nature of your work is going to make you very unpopular with the general public. For that reason you will be hitting the streets in pairs. Your commanding officer will be Chief Inspector, John Stevens. For the next week you will be working with a representative from the Tyrell Corporation. He'll give you the detailed information on replicant recognition so you don't kill any innocent people out there."
XXXXX The briefing continued for some time with Captain Davis and eventually Chief Inspector Stevens speaking to the group. By the time it was finished, Bryant was thouroughly bored. He wanted nothing more than to get to work.
XXXXX He took a taxi spinner home, so he could get off the noisy, crowded, L. A. streets for awhile. The silence gave him time to think. He was becoming worried about what would happen on February first when the Blade Runner unit went into action. He just couldn't believe that people would quickly give up something that had become a part of their lives. A week had already passed and less than five percent of the city had turned in their Replicants.
XXXXX The spinner dropped him off outside his building. Before he could duck inside, the building's Replicant doorman greeted him.
XXXXX "Good evening, sir. Long day today?" It held the door open for Bryant.
XXXXX "Haven't they turned you in yet?" sneered Harry.
XXXXX "Personally, I'd rather they didn't. I'm perfectly content to remain here in the service of tenants like yourself," replied the android.
XXXXX "Fuck you," said Bryant cheerfully as he passed through the open door.
XXXXX "Thank you, sir."
XXXXX 'God-damn stupid skin job,' thought Bryant. 'He's number two on my list.' He took the stairs up to his floor and unlocked the three deadbolts that barred the door of apartment four-twenty-seven. He put his black trenchcoat and fedora on the rack in the corner and went to get a beer. Kicking off his boots, he dropped onto the bed, which along with a rickety table and a single chair, was the only furniture he had in the one-room apartment. The place was expensive, but it was worth it to live in a halfway decent part of town.
XXXXX He sighed and ran his hand over his closely shaved scalp. He kept his hair extremely short to help conceal the fact that he was beginning to go bald. To divert even more attention from his hairline, he had a thick moustache which grew down past the sides of his mouth and into a short goatee. He was thinking of losing the goatee, though. He reached for the vid-screen control.
XXXXX As he went through the more than two hundred stations, he skipped all the sporting events and dozens of mindless comedies. Many stations were showing Replicant related news events. He paused on several but soon grew bored with them. He continued to flip through vid-channels until he finished his beer, and decided to call it a day.

XXXXX The next morning, the Blade Runners met at the Tyrell Building. Once they had been seated around a table in a small conference room, Eldon Tyrell himself addressed the group.
XXXXX "I will be honest with you and say that I am not at all pleased to see you here. Nor am I pleased with the duties upon which you will soon embark. I abhor what you are doing and I will continue to try and stop you, legally of course. Killing a Replicant is the same as killing a human being . . . it's murder. I hope you are all comfortable with that. I am not."
XXXXX With that, he walked quickly out of the room, leaving a stunned Captain Davis staring after him. "Ooo-kayyy." Davis then introduced Tyrell's representative, J.F. Sebastian.
XXXXX Sebastian was of average build and appeared to be in his late 30's. His brown hair had a habit of constantly falling into his eyes from it's perch atop his forehead. Bryant figured he was a loner since he seemed nervous about speaking to the small group. Once he began to talk about the various Replicant models, he was in his element and his norvousness disappeared.
XXXXX He discussed the four original NEXUS-1 models , the twenty NEXUS-2 models and the fifty NEXUS-3's with all the various options such as hair, skin, and eye color. This was made even more complicated by the fact that each Replicant was available in either male or female form.
XXXXX They finished the day with photo recognition tests on the NEXUS-1's. Since there were only four base models, the team scored well on the test. The rcognition course continued throughout the week, with the Blade Runners trying to remember literally hundreds of faces. Bryant didn't bother with the details such as hair and eye color. Instead he focused on the shape and structure of each Replicant models face. That would be the important factor. Hair and eye color could be easily changed but their faces remained the same.