04-27-2014, 03:15 PM
Crime rate! That was the phrase he was subconsciously seeking. A pop-up lifted itself into view, an advertisement for a motorcycle branding he recognized from years ago. Didn't realize they still made these, he thought, briefly nostalgic, and subsequently X'd out of the ad. The map returned full view, and overtook thoughts of days long gone. He was about three blocks from a red zone: rape, murder, break-in, gang firefights. It was exactly the kind of place he was looking to find.
The sounds of the city echoed on while he studied the layout of the neighborhood. Yells from the group in the distance were replaced by the whistle of a lumbering train barreling the other direction. It was odd how he felt so isolated, surrounded by millions of people.
He continued to read articles by the light of the screen alone, but the reports of tragedy were always written after the fact. There'd be no way to help anyone then. Hospitals were full of cameras and screens. As a preacher he was in ICU all the time, visiting the sick and wounded. To stand surrounded by monitors, electrodes, leads and lights, he remember feeling helpless, gripping the rails in heartbreak, as though needing to do something more than sympathize.
He needed to find these people before they went to the hospital, before EMT's were in route, maybe before they were ever in need of a doctor in the first place. In the movies there was always someone listening to police communications. If he figured out how to tap into something like that, there was always the lingering problem of getting in and out of the location before the police arrived. Spiderman could swing between buildings, but Jensen only had his two legs, and while he ran track in high school, he doubted he could out-pace a cop car.
A distant rumble of engines lifted his eyes from the screen. The noise groaned as engines, more than one, roared closer and closer. He blacked out the screen as the yellow lamps of headlights came around the corner. The noise was deafening, but first one, then another, and finally twelve or more motorcycles sped past like black bullets. He put his hands over his ears, but found himself watching the red lights until they were out of sight.
That gave him an idea. He almost smiled to himself as he dropped the screen in a pocket and aimed for the metro. He needed someone who knew what they were doing, and he had just the person in mind.
The sounds of the city echoed on while he studied the layout of the neighborhood. Yells from the group in the distance were replaced by the whistle of a lumbering train barreling the other direction. It was odd how he felt so isolated, surrounded by millions of people.
He continued to read articles by the light of the screen alone, but the reports of tragedy were always written after the fact. There'd be no way to help anyone then. Hospitals were full of cameras and screens. As a preacher he was in ICU all the time, visiting the sick and wounded. To stand surrounded by monitors, electrodes, leads and lights, he remember feeling helpless, gripping the rails in heartbreak, as though needing to do something more than sympathize.
He needed to find these people before they went to the hospital, before EMT's were in route, maybe before they were ever in need of a doctor in the first place. In the movies there was always someone listening to police communications. If he figured out how to tap into something like that, there was always the lingering problem of getting in and out of the location before the police arrived. Spiderman could swing between buildings, but Jensen only had his two legs, and while he ran track in high school, he doubted he could out-pace a cop car.
A distant rumble of engines lifted his eyes from the screen. The noise groaned as engines, more than one, roared closer and closer. He blacked out the screen as the yellow lamps of headlights came around the corner. The noise was deafening, but first one, then another, and finally twelve or more motorcycles sped past like black bullets. He put his hands over his ears, but found himself watching the red lights until they were out of sight.
That gave him an idea. He almost smiled to himself as he dropped the screen in a pocket and aimed for the metro. He needed someone who knew what they were doing, and he had just the person in mind.