“It’s bullshit that the detectives get to drive the flying cars and we get stuck with the ground-pounder vehicles,” Harris said.
“Are you kidding me? You can barely drive this thing. You think I wanna let you fly me around town?”
“By the way, congrats on making it into the Astrocop program.”
Hanick hated that expression. It sounded too much like rent-a-cop. “Thanks.”
Harris narrowly stuck an old man crossing the street, hitting the man’s walker instead. “I can’t believe you’re going to the freakin’ Moon.”
Looking back through the rear window to make sure the old man was okay, Hanick said, “I’m not going over there for a vacation.”
“C’mon, man. How much crime can there be on the Moon? The only people going over there right now are a bunch of rich assholes.”
“And what? Rich assholes don’t break the law?”
Harris was quiet, but only for a moment. “Hey, you know what they call Moon cops on Pascal?”
“What do they call ‘em?”
“They call them mall cops. You know why, right?”
Hanick looked at Harris, realizing everybody at the station was right. This guy never shut his mouth.
“I hear the inside of that dome looks like a mall. It’s got shops and shit.”
“Well, there’s not a whole lot to do up there.”
“No. No, you’re right. I guess people go to get out of all this smoke and smog. Go for the peace and quiet.”