"And let's not forget, ma'am," the man in the black suit raised an eyebrow. He sat on the edge of the chair, squinting as if trying to read the small-fonted word.
"Perkovich, Director sir," I corrected him.
"Ms. Perkovich, splendid," his voice grew louder. "So, Ms. Perkovich, please remember that any changes to your body in Technolife will also affect your real-world body."
He looked at me sternly, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation.
"So, death in simulation means..." he paused.
"Death in reality," I finished for him.
"Exactly! Therefore, Ms... uh, Yanukovich..." he squinted again.
"Perkovich," I corrected, holding back a laugh.
"Heh... Perkovich, we ask you to be extremely cautious and ensure not only your safety but also the safety of your fellow turbo-police officers," his elegant mustache twitched slightly.
He handed me an electronic form and a stylus.
"Please sign, but before that, read the final condition."
I took the form and started reading. The document stated:
"I agree that from today, precisely from December 5, 2052, I join the ranks of the U.S. turbo-police and am ready to assist other users on the Technolife network, punish fraudsters, and neutralize the system viruses they create. I promise not to disclose details of my work to individuals who are not turbo-police workers. I also understand that all my sessions in Technolife (if conducted on the police terminal) from today will be recorded, as well as all my phone conversations. I promise to adhere to all the above conditions and not disclose them to anyone else."
I already knew the terms of the contract, but repeating them didn't hurt.
After reading the conditions, without any hesitation, I took the stylus and signed. The director took the form, looked at my signature, and let out a sigh of relief.
"Welcome to the turbo-police, Ms. Perkovich. From today, you are part of the turbo-defense soldiers. Your code name is now July 03."
He shook my hand and smiled. In his kind blue eyes, I could see my reflection and the genuine joy he felt. Mr. Nicholson had seen a lot in his life, as evident from his gray hair. However, at 42, he wasn't old, and his face looked quite handsome for his age. Though, the beauty of his face was slightly marred by a scar on his right cheek. Mr. Joseph Nicholson had been sent to the frontlines, to the Smolensk Oblast, where a bloody conflict between Ukrainians and Russians unfolded, later known as the "Smolensk 13-dazs Massacre." In 2030, the Ukrainian army advanced into the Smolensk Oblast, regaining control of the Luhansk and Donetsk regions, as well as part of Crimea. Joseph, a skilled drone operator, was sent from the U.S. to Ukraine since there was a shortage of drone operators on the frontlines. He served in Ukraine for three years until the end of the war and Ukraine's victory, reclaiming its territories and capturing Belgorod, Smolensk Oblast, and Krasnodar. He was awarded the titles of "Hero of Ukraine" and "Hero of the U.S." Joseph had no intention of rushing back home; he spent two more years in Luhansk, teaching ethics and history at a school. However, one day, Joseph received a call from his mother, informing him that his father had died. This news deeply affected Nicholson's psyche. The next day, he flew back to the States to Denver, his hometown, where he buried his father. Within a few months, he regained composure and continued teaching at an American school. Soon, he got married, and his wife gave birth to two wonderful children. Now, he worked as the chief of turbo-police because, in 2041, internet crime had surged, and he wanted to help society. He had been here for 11 years, becoming the chief of the Washington turbo-police.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the door.
"Please, come in," Mr. Nicholson shouted.
The door opened, and a charming, average-height Indian man entered. His hair was a bit messy, but it suited him well.
"Good day, Mr. Nicholson," the Indian man bowed.
"Ah!" Nicholson exclaimed joyfully, "Rahul! You're right on time." He nudged me in the back to approach the Indian man.
"Meet our new colleague, Maria Perkovich."
I shook hands with the Indian man.
"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Perkovich! I'm Rahul Kumar, turbo-soldier, call sign April 05."
I smiled and replied, "It's nice to meet you too. And call me just Maria."
He blushed a little.
"Rahul! Do me a favor and show our new colleague around the turbo-police headquarters," Mr. Nicholson requested.
"With pleasure!" Rahul exclaimed, taking my hand and leading me away.