“NO!” he screamed.  From the onlookers, a long-haired gentleman looked at the scene and upon the screamer with little interest.  The crowd was confused, and could not see the action due to the large number of people gathered in the street.  People were murmuring, asking each other what had happened.  “I think someone is dead over there”, said a young woman to those nearest who could hear.  More sirens; “God those were always loud”, the long-haired gentlemen thought to himself. 

The long-haired man was tired of his job.  Nothing surprised him anymore; the objectives were tedious now.  He hated his required uniform, as it was uncomfortable and binding, and he hated carrying around the outdated laptop that made his shoulder ache.  He often daydreamed about what he will do when he is free.  He thought he might settle down in the British countryside, where it was quiet and peaceful.  He was so tired of the constant crisis in his life, and wanted to live out his time away from people, materialism, and the American ego.  Not that the British were any better, but he like the rain, the seasons and the beauty of the land.  They knew he wasn’t partial to the city, and yet they sent him here anyway.  He knew that they did not punish, but challenged him.  “After all these years, they know me better than myself, and yet, they send me to this hell.”  He thought about his choices, and opted to complete his servitude rather than run.  “They would find me anyway, and I would have to start over.”  He thought about the consistencies that he found, no matter where they sent him; the love of a dog, the beauty of a sunrise, the refreshing ocean spray while standing on the beach.  He also thought of the constants of humans; war, anger, fear, pain, conditional love, and constant need.   He couldn’t think of the positive characteristics anymore, as he had become jaded through years of service.  He only saw the beginning, though, and recognized that the end was far different than the beginning.  They never let him see the end, even though he had pleaded with them many times.  They always told him they had their reasons, but never expounded upon them.

The police tape pushed the large crowd back.  Paramedics had been on the scene for twenty minutes, and they were attempting to breathe life back into the young woman.  The sirens brought the detective, who was now taking pictures, and two of New York’s finest were working crowd control.  The coroner had been called, but it was early yet.  The long-haired man looked at his watch and realized it was only ten to seven.  He knew it would be awhile before he could take the next action.  This assignment carried heavy overhead, which he hated, because he had to wait much longer than usual.