Every superhero has an origin story that is interesting. So you might be thinking to yourself: I wonder how Officer Bryan Ray became such an upstanding policeman. Well, let me explain:
I used to be a regular civilian. My daily routine was to sit on the sofa and stare at the television. I was unemployed, by choice; so, having zero income, I survived off the food, clothing, and housing that our government provided. I was thankful to be taken care of, but it bothered me that I was not contributing to society. I would just spend my whole day watching the trustworthy news:
These networks presented story after story about how all the professions had turned corrupt: Priests, who should be protecting children, were actually abusing them. Firefighters, who should be fighting fires, were actually causing them. I could go on all day giving more examples, but suffice it to say that every institution and industry had turned completely wicked, and that every imagination of the thoughts of these professions was only evil continually.
This grieved me in my heart. But I kept watching my trustworthy news shows, and, one day, they delivered a revelation that shook me to my core:
My favorite network aired a special report on the single profession that was naturally immune to corruption — a noble department called THE POLICE. And the reason that these brave souls avoided descending into misconduct along with all the other institutions was that their entire job was to FIGHT CRIME.
Upon seeing this, I stood up from my sofa, pointed at the screen, and declared: “THAT is what I want to do with my life.”
Immediately, I picked up the telephone and dialed the number for the local police station. They asked me if I would like to report a crime, and I answered: “No, I’m interested in joining the Force — may I, please?”
So the receptionist transferred my call over to the agent who runs the training academy. I went to a preliminary meeting; then I attended Boot Camp. After graduating, I got my badge and participated on a few ridealongs — that’s what you do when you’re a rookie cop with little or no experience: you accompany a seasoned officer in his squad cruiser, as he hastens to solve call after call from distressed individuals, until you’re ready to fly on your own.
After I learned the ropes, the police station threw me a graduation party; during which, the Commissioner delivered a heartwarming speech about how proud he is of me. At this same event, I was assigned my official partner: Officer Julius.
“Bryan Ray? Pleased to meet you; I’m Officer Julius,” said Officer Julius. “I hope to have a long and productive partnership together.”
I shook hands with Officer Julius; my eyes were welling with tears, I was so happy. “Me too,” I replied; “me too.”
So that’s my origin story, in a nutshell. Now I’ll tell you about a few of our initial distress calls.
The first distress call that I Bryan Ray and my lifelong partner Julius decided to answer was the one from Galaxy Library:
The crime hotline began to flash bright red and ring shrilly within our police cruiser. “Go ahead — pick up the receiver and say hello,” said Officer Julius, who was driving.
“Are you sure?” I said.
“Yes!” he smiled.
“OK,” I said. Then I answered the distress call: “Hello, this is Officer Bryan Ray from the Eagan Police Department; how may I help you?”
“Yes, Bryan, I’m at the Galaxy Library, located in Apple Valley, which is just south of Eagan — now, I understand that I’m calling the hotline for YOUR city’s law enforcement, but I wonder if you would still be willing to help me.”
“Sure, I don’t think you’re out of our jurisdiction,” I said; “after all, we share the same county — you’re still in Dakota, right?”
“That’s right,” said the caller.
“Well then,” I said, “that’s only a few miles away. We can drive there, no prob! My partner, Officer Julius, just filled up our car’s tank with fuel, so I’m sure we won’t run out. Go ahead and tell me what’s wrong — don’t be afraid.”
The voice on the hotline let out a sigh of relief and then said: “Thank you SO much. Alright, here’s the deal: There’s a man in the library right now — he’s in the section that contains books about politics, and he’s acting impolitely.”
“Politics?” I said. “Impoliteness? — Hmm, it sounds like those words might even share a root with the term ‘Police’. I should research their etymologies, when I get a chance, later tonight. Perhaps we’ll haul out an old physical copy of the dictionary, when my partner Officer Julius and I gather our families together for a barbeque, after our shift ends. But, that’s beside the point — you were talking about a discourteous man in the political section (that’s nonfiction, if my memory serves) — what would you like us to do, jail the troublemaker indefinitely?”
“Um…” the voice on the hotline seemed taken aback by this suggestion, “I guess I didn’t think that rude behavior was something that you could imprison a person for, at this point in history; but… Yeah, sure — whatever you can do, with the powers vested in you. I just want this man out of my library.”
“We’re on our way,” I said. Then I slammed down the handset onto the plungers of the cradle of the telephone’s base, which was embedded within the median console between the front seats of our police cruiser, right in front of the armrest.
“Who was that?” Officer Julius asked.
“Claire Snowglobe, the Chief Research Technician at Galaxy Library,” I said. “Her voice was immediately recognizable. She said she wants us to do a clean-up on aisle 320, if you know what I mean.”
Officer Julius shot me a glance while still driving the squad car, thus allowing the vehicle to remain in motion for an instant without the road ahead being monitored. “Isn’t that the number assigned to ‘Political Science’, in the Dewey Decimal system?”
I smiled widely: “Jules, I could kiss you. You really know your stuff.”
Officer Julius ventured another sidelong glance at me and quipped: “Hold the physical affection, Bry — it will suffice if you simply vote for me in this coming election. We’ve got to defeat those Roman Oligarchs.” (It should be noted that he made this remark on the same day I’m writing the present memoir: March 15.)
So we raced over to the Galaxy Library and located the man who was causing all the trouble — it turned out that there was actually an overt cabal conspiring together around the bookshelves containing the volumes classified in the 320s; nonetheless, allow me the poetic license to speak of this group as one single man, for the sake of whim:
“Salutations, fellow earthling,” Officer Julius addressed the culprit while we both aimed our firearms stiffly; “the word on the street is that you’re disturbing the peaceful atmosphere of this library.”
“Fuck off!” said the man. “I own this nation. And all the other nations as well.”
“Hey,” I shouted, “watch your language.”
“Look,” said my partner Julius, “we don’t want this conflict to escalate into World War X. — If you’ll simply cooperate with us, we will gladly take you to a nearby bar and buy you a drink. Nobody will charge you with any crime, and we’ll all go back to being a harmonious society. Does that sound good?”
The unhinged powermonger contemplated these words of Officer Julius; and, after a few tense moments, our villain’s rigid disposition melted like candle-wax: He dropped the books that he was holding (he had multiple tomes of political theory, in either arm) and exclaimed: “I accept your offer. That sounds like fun.”
So we took this man along with us to a local sports bar, and we all tossed back either one, two, or three light beers. The would-be foe became our friend. We even bought him dinner — we ordered French fries, cheeseburgers, and hotdogs.
“I never realized how nice life could be,” remarked Cassius (that was the fellow’s name), “if you just live simply for love and friendship.”
At the end of the evening, we gave the man a ride home, and he promised never to attempt another governmental overthrow.
Then we all went home and kissed our respective spouses and tucked our children into bed. Officer Julius read his kids a story, and they were slumbering before he could even finish it. — Meanwhile, I myself composed a piece of automatic writing, on the spot, and then recited it for my children: When I reached the end, my kids were buzzing with excitement — they wanted more: “Say another one, Father!” they begged; but I told them: “Eve, Adam: seriously, you need to fall into a deep sleep now. I forbid you to wake until sunrise.” So they obeyed, and I retired to my own bedroom and embraced my wife Lilith.
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