Från mitt gamla snutspel i framtiden; vad som utmärker dig; du är en mordutredare i kavaj, skjorta och slips; slit den med hälsan.
d100:
01. A postcard from one of the colonies; blue sand, the ocean, three moons, and the words; ”Don’t follow me, please.”
02. The handle of your service pistol is intricately ornamented with motives carved from abalone.
03. An expensive cigar, rolled with tobacco from the greenhouses on the moon Io, saved for the right moment.
04. Earrings, small or large, made from lapis lazuli — a blue precious stone from Old Earth.
05. You struggle to grow a garden on the balcony of your apartment.
06. You only drink sparkling water.
07. You sleep on the floor, without even a mattress.
08. You go out dancing alone at clubs on the weekends, not to take someone home, just to… dance.
09. Small green booklet: ”The case for Sunni-Marxism, by Dr Abdullah Haussman”.
10. A wedding ring you should no longer wear -- but wear.
11. Three small plastic bags of extra-extra-hot sauce; you put that stuff on everything.
12. You wear black t-shirts and expensive necklaces instead of the normal shirt and tie.
13. Migraine pills.
14. A paper-back novel about crime in ancient Russia.
15. A bullet that almost killed you.
16. Antique, small hourglass that measures 3 minutes.
17. A single chess piece: a black bishop.
18. Small, silver unicorn statue.
19. A deck of cards with various space-ships printed on them; used to train Colonial Rangers to identify hostiles and friendlies.
20. Expensive coat with grey marble-pattern and an asymmetrical cut.
21. Thick, golden eye-shadow.
22. A scar makes part of your hair white.
23. Licorice cherry-blossom chewing gum.
24. A single, real pearl, with hole for a thread.
25. You spend more money on an accountant to avoid paying taxes, than what the actual taxes would cost you — ”But it’s the principle”.
26. A single, blue feather.
27. You own several pairs of the same tennis-shoes, and wear them with everything.
28. You are allergic to some chemical in the Martian rain; if you don’t seek shelter, it makes your hair fall of. You always have a kufi or baseball hat handy.
29. You take your deceased spouse, parent or child to a restaurant, on the persons birthday, or, it it’s your spouse, on your wedding day.
30. A small, ornamented brass medallion with a mirror inside.
31. A half-finished roll of the particular cookies you always eat.
32. Ancient bedouin silver ring, inherited.
33. Dog-tags, not yours.
34. A piece of dark, alien amber, with a small eight-legged, ghostly white insect encased in it.
35. Insomniac, you are awake playing on several advanced, mechanical pinball-like games that you have in your apartment.
36. You practice smiling infront of a mirror in the mornings.
37. ”Rubik’s Octahedron”, unsolved (8-sided: red, green, yellow, blue, white, black, grey, magenta).
38. A discreet metal pin, championing some obscure but provocative political cause.
39. Illegible handwriting.
40. You always feel too cold.
41. You always feel too hot.
42. Perfume, imported from the colonies, so expensive people don’t believe it when they are told what it costs.
43. Different colored eyes.
44. Latest issue of a dinosaur/ caveman-fantasy comic-book.
45. Half-smoked pack of cigarettes that you haven’t touched since you quit many years ago, but keep for when you have a really bad day.
46. Here’s what you do… listen: you keep photos of all the victims whose deaths you’ve investigated, but in the photos they are all alive, busy with living and forgetting what is to come for you all; the photos are framed, spread around your apartment — visitors always mistake them for your family. Healthy.
47. A butterfly from Old Earth, encased in plastic resin; antique.
48. An experimental energy-weapon in the hands of some kid or thug burnt your eyes; the whites are black; a slightly terrifying look.
49. Paper card with stamps from the best green-tea joint in the city; buy six, get the seventh for free.
50. Some knife-trick, performed to impress, pass the time, intimidate.
51. Always a bow-tie made from kimono-fabric instead of a tie.
52. Cauliflower ears — only if you have the Skill Close-combat.
53. Always ties with subtly humorous or ironic motives.
54. A small marble painted like the moon Ganymede, from some game.
55. A grey titanium front tooth.
56. You like to walk around barefoot when given the opportunity — you take of your shoes and socks as soon as you sit down at the desk — helps you relax.
57. You build plastic models of the starships you saw in the war, or wished that you had seen.
58. You practice archery twice a week, strictly as a sport; you go to a shooting range with all the equipment and everything.
59. You still watch the hololith shows from your childhood, while eating your breakfast cereal; it’s the only thing that makes you laugh.
60. A silver oyster-amulet, containing a bleached photo of the first of your ancestors to settle on Mars; a smiling couple in spacesuits.
61. An intricate, samurai-like haircut, with parts of the head shaved.
62. Key to a house that no longer exists.
63. A heavy, black ceramic wristwatch, worn by Colonial Navy Pilots.
64. A shopping-list for mundane items — bread, coffee, sugar — wrinkled up, falling apart: it is ten years old.
65. The cyphers and enigmas section of todays newspaper, ”Impossible Level”.
66. Three chemical-patches, exchanged daily, that releases caffeine, nicotine and anti-oxidants into your blood, making you barely functional.
67. A comb carved from bone.
68. Two six-sided, loaded dice, neon pink.
69. You hair is kept in a tightly braided pony-tail.
70. You make a point to only expose yourself to culture — films, music, books — produced before the turn of the millennium, i.e. before the year 2000 — ”for spiritual reasons”.
71. You eat pills that makes your skin tone very dark black, almost blue, for purely esthetic reasons; it makes you look Sudanese, Tuareg…
72. Stress ball.
73. Paper-back: ”Therapist to The Destroyer of Worlds: The memoirs of a machine-psychiatrist”.
74. An exquisite silver set of knife and fork that you take out when it’s time to eat the sloppy street-food the job forces on you — ”Makes every meal a banquet”.
75. Red sand in your pockets — it gets in everybody’s pockets, but you seem to have an abundance of it, all the time.
76. A pair of deer-skin gloves.
77. A black, hyper-thin umbrella that unfolds from a small black rectangle, no larger than a credit-card.
78. You constantly open and close your fists, crack your fingers, stressing people around you out.
79. Business cards for a restaurant you put your life savings into a few years back; it went bankrupt in two months, but you can’t get yourself to get rid of the cards.
80. Dark suit-pants with a yellow stripe.
81. A single domino, double six.
82. A one-way ticket to one of the colonies, bought many years ago, but open-ended and probably still valid.
83. Ceramic combat knife.
84. Menus to twenty different take-out joints around the city.
85. Membership card, The Marrows Striking Gym; only if you have the Skill Close-combat.
86. You have a Bangladeshi flag on the wall at home; some ancestor came from there, and you like the colors.
87. You photograph street art and consider yourself somewhat of a connoisseur.
88. A mechanical pocket-watch on a silver chain, an exact replica of the ones the Officers in The Ottoman Empire had made by French watch-makers Longines.
89. A shuriken.
90. Burns from a laser-blast across the chest and up the neck.
91. A great cook.
92. A thin, transparent raincoat with reflex-stripes; folds up to fit in your pocket.
93. Long hair intricately held up by hair-pins.
94. Beautiful, thin geometric scar-tattoos on your face.
95. A coat normally worn by outland workers; it is rugged and heavy, and the shearling collar has a breathing-filter built into it, to be used in case of sand-storms.
96. You build tiny, clockwork insects — beetles, dragonflies, praying mantises — that walk, jump, and even fly in little circles; you actually have a small workshop in your drawer at the station — ”helps me think to tinker with something”. You sell them, give them as gifts, keep them in the window at home.
97. You have cat’s or snake’s eyes, due to gene-splicing one of your great-great grandparent must have done, before the Alphabet, when such procedures were cheaper, and cheaper to reverse using nano-technology.
98. Breath mints.
99. Antique bill from Old Earth, ”In God We Trust”; you put it up on the inside of the windshield of your lift-car, with a piece of gum, every time you ride out.
00. Paper-back novel, Don Quixote, The Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance.