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            The AICIU (The Artificial Intelligence Crimes Investigations Unit) of the New York City Police Department handles more AI crimes than ever before.  A slew of potential AI crimes continues to be committed.             Technically, most are not illegal until after the incident(s) are perpetrated.

            Cocaine and LSD had the same history. Both not listed as illegal drugs until the law caught up to date with them. Until that time, they were not illegal.

            These new AI related potential criminal incidents have greatly increased. The New York State Legislator deemed it necessary to update (in real time) the increasingly outdated NSYPL (New York State Penal Law.) The goal simple: To create a mechanism to keep up with, identify and outpace the rapid changing responsibility and criminal culpability of the AI reality. 

            Detective First Grade Brian O’Donnell Moresby of the NYPD’s AICIU has been ordered to provide information to the New York State Legislature. It is a closed-door meeting. He is to facilitate an understanding as to a new methodology the politicians should consider. A new strategic timetable method of updating the law. 

            Detective Moresby held Ph.D. graduate degrees in both Advanced Computer Science and Abnormal Psychology: Two underlying AI information pools the Committee needed to better understand. The task:  Turn the new knowledge into actionable lawmaking.


            The Committee Chairperson introduced Brian as Doctor Moresby. He informed her his preference is the title of Detective.

            The politicians decided to forgo their usual introductory self-serving and motivated statements. They asked Detective Moresby to start his testimony. They requested it is given as uninterrupted, unscientific and graphic as possible. The committee admitted their knowledge base on the topics concerned could be considered limited.

            The Committee then added an addendum to their initial request. They asked the detective to relate one of his most intriguing unsolved cases. This as an overall introduction. A case that shares not only the new evolving technology but how it intersects with the pre-digital antiquities of our humanity.

            “Like you were telling it to your fellow cops, detective,” The State Senator representing New York City said. “Language and all, so the reality of New York City can increase the understanding for our Upstate friends.” He added without any hint of patronizing his colleagues. He remained dead serious. New York City has become a major incubator of the AI Crime problem.

            The detective made himself comfortable in his chair. He began by informing the committee the source of the information he was about to give was from the NYPD official Case Folder (the old term still in use by the NYPD.) It contained the traditional interview videos and transcripts. That was the source of the politically incorrect language he was about to use. He will explain words or phases the committee does not understand. “I have a photographic memory,” he adds as an afterthought.


            The detective began with the caveat that his testimony contains speculation based on in-depth interviews and other investigative results. This is the theory of what happened, how the alleged potential perpetrators got away with it before it could be or would ever be, classified as a crime.


            Bert and Harry were business partners. They owned a restaurant in a working-class section of Queens. The two friends had prepared to make their move to the big time: Manhattan.

            The partners always wanted a restaurant in Manhattan. They found a buyer for their place in Queens and took second mortgages out on their modest houses to finance the move. The banks agreed on the finances.

            Bert and Harry now were the proud owners of Bert and Harrys Queens Gardens at Tribeca.

            The restauranteurs were now in the big leagues. They knew competing with the types of restaurants like The Tribeca Grill owned by Robert De Niro was going to be tough. But Bert and Harry remained confident they’d be up to it. They strived for excellence in every aspect of their establishment. The guys paid way above minimum wage to their staff. From busboys to bartenders, they wanted everyone who worked there to be on board, treating them like family.

            This was to be a chic and classy place. The guys imported an executive chef from Paris. They pulled out all the stops.

            Located in the confines of the NYPD’s First Precinct, the cops were welcomed there as well. I heard through the grapevine the food was fantastic. The patrol cops appreciated and enjoyed the hospitality extended to them. 

            The first week of opening their doors, two cops in uniform were enjoying a dinner at the establishment. Harry was escorting a couple to their table and the trio passed right by the two cops. The woman looked down her nose at the cops. Loudly and in a dismissive tone said: “Huh, New York’s Finest!”

            Harry immediately turned to this botoxed old Fag Hag and her younger Metrosexual escort. The restaurateur said - loud enough for all to hear: “How DARE you insult my friends like that, GET THE FUCK out of my restaurant!”

            “I guess one can take the boy out of Queens, but it’s quite impossible to take the Queens out of the boy.” The detective inserted as a personal observation.

            The bitch left in a huff, her miffed escort trailing in her wake.

            That did it. But who the hell knew who this broad was and who she knew? The real power brokers in New York City are usually quite invisible.

            Bert and Harry were savagely taken apart by the elitist New York City restaurant critics. My research shows the critics were unfair and sadistically took turns. They were unmerciful. The critics tried to outdo each other in their well sharpened use of destructive sarcasm.

            Their critical arrogance was unyielding. 

            The elitist disdain for some original (that’s the operative word here) outer-borough New Yorkers was on full parade. The critics toxic posting in social media outlets when it came to Bert and Harrys Queens Gardens at Tribeca were like the iceberg that sunk the Titanic. 

            Lemmings on parade responded:  The toxic posts hit other cyber Apps as well.

            Needless to say, Bert and Harrys Queens Gardens at Tribeca went out of business within months of opening their doors. 


            The financial, as well as the emotional consternation, was immense. Harry couldn’t take the strain.  He overdosed on a toxic mix of tranquilizers washed down with alcohol. He did a Dorothy Kilgallen (an internationally successful newspaper reporter based in New York City,) who went DOA (died) the same way in 1965. 

            But the financial debt did not die with Harry. 

            Bert took the substantial debt all on. He refused bankruptcy. Bert didn’t want Harry’s family to suffer. After all, Bert was a bachelor. The junior partner assumed all the debt including the mortgage on Harry’s house. He worked two jobs, six days a week and sometimes seven days a week, to repay the debt.


            Then it happened. Bert always puts $10.00 a week aside to play the New York State Lottery, Mega Millions and Power Ball. He’d get Quick Picks from the neighborhood’s Sal and Angies Bagel Space and Pizza Place every Monday for the week. 

            Bert hit the Mega Millions.

            It was a modest payout. Not one of those super jackpots. The lump sum after taxes was enough to wipe out the onerous debt. Bert then threw half of what was left to Harry’s family. That left him with a cool three million dollars in the bank.

            I believe those who killed his best friend and the restaurant of their dreams were remembered and vilified in Bert’s mind. Revenge was the dish he metaphorically longed to perfect. Bert wanted to prepare and serve it.  

            The revenge had to be unique.  

            Bert wanted those reprobate critics and Yelp type cyber asshole lemmings to understand the revenge meal will be served as retribution by Bert and Harry’s Queens Gardens at Tribeca.


            Bert was now back on his feet and then some, thanks to the Lovely Lottery. He had a healthy dislike for the restaurant business. He wanted nothing to do with it. Naturally curious and bright, Bert set his eyes on something new and different. He considered a multitude of possibilities. 

            That’s when he met Chichalode Rebbizio, better known as “Chick.”

            An odd and out of place addition to Bert’s local Queens neighborhood - Chick was welcomed just the same.  The tight-knit community embraced him. They respected his nonverbal request to remain anonymous and just fit in.

            Chick was an enigma. He was from “out of town.” Nobody knew exactly where. This tall, good-looking and articulate individual spoke five languages. But his natural accent could not be associated with a specific city, region or country. He was financially independent, but without a job or career to claim. When he asked, “So, what do you do?” His response was always “Dabble, Discover, Develop.”


            They were both very engaging and open during the AICIU interview process.  We discovered Bert and Chick actually met at an after-hours club in a Queens: Plato’s Retreat-East.   It was located in an industrial area down by JFK Airport, about a 20-minute drive from their neighborhood. You’d never have any idea what was going on inside that nondescript warehouse. 

            The place had been up (under observation) with NYPD’s Queens Vice Squad for some time, but with negative results. AICIU checked it out as well. It was impossible to get an undercover in that place. You had to know somebody to get in.     

            Chick relished in describing to the AICIU the evening they met at the club. Chick had picked up two stunningly good-looking German Lufthansa airline stewardess. He wanted to do a threesome with these lovely looking semen conduits (Again, the detective emphasizes Chick’s dicy words.) But they were not into it at all. Chick had to think fast, not wanting to lose out popping at least one of the best looking dumplings in the club that evening.

            The detective again cautioned he was using the verbiage from the actual interviews, as requested by the committee. 

            Chick sees Bert at the other end of the bar and recognizes Bert from their neighborhood. For a quick moment, he excuses himself from the women. Chick goes over to Bert, introduces himself and asks if Bert would be interested in banging one of the two broads. “Which one?” Bert asks in disbelief. “Your choice, friend” was the response.

            Yada, Yada, Yada - Bert accepts the proposal and plays hide the salami with the German redheaded receptacle. Chick sthoups the blonde. Both women accepted and welcomed the men into their triple luscious and tempting inputs. Both had shaved that thang. They also demanded liquified male satisfaction numerous times, and in differing ways. 

            “I guess German broads are like the German guys, very demanding.” The detective inserted in his bad attempt at a German accent. He expected and got a few laughs.

            Of the three women on the committee, the two politically correct democrat females continued their intermittent groans. Their male alligator clipped ballsack, politically correct, pussy whipped, democrat senators were quite observant. They took their cue from their female political dominatrix’s. All were exhibiting facial disapproval. After all, the  democrat men were self proclaimed feminists as well.

            The third Republican female laughed out loud and said to her fellow senators, “You wanted graphic?” Well, you got graphic.” The other Republican males laughed. They were loving it.

            The detective paused and then continued:

            As an added bonus, Bert and Chick are surprised.  They get to do both broads when the girls announce it’s time to switch partners.

            But when Chick floats the idea, the broads refuse and won’t indulge in any lesbian shit. “I guess you can’t always get everything you want,” Chick whispers to Bert as the girls dive into the hot tub for a final dip to get rid of the stank of sex.

            The four depart early in the morning from the motel down by JFK airport where the fuck-fest occurred. Chick put the frauleins in an Uber so they could catch their flight back to Germany.

            The two seminally drained men waved goodbye to (as Chick called them) Der Hitler Youth. The bearded middle eastern driver and his Uber black Lincoln Continental  pulled away. Ach du Lieber! Chick said as he smiled savoring his night of carnal delight.

            The guys decided they needed breakfast. That’s when they got acquainted. The two enjoying a protracted breakfast at the diner over on Cross Bay Boulevard in the One-O-Six precinct. That’s when they apparently bonded.

            “Best Danish and coffee in Queens,” the detective added.  


            Bert and Chick start hanging out together. Bert gets into the details of the death of his partner and their restaurant. Soon Bert confides that he’s looking for a new gig. “Something new and on the cutting edge, maybe technology based.” But he probably confides in Chick that getting even with the multitude of assholes that killed his partner and ran them out of business still consumed him. 

            Chick decided to share something of importance with Bert. 

            It is Chick’s background.  The AICIU did an extensive check and Chick’s background has been authenticated.

            Chick is a refugee from the European scientific community. He dropped off the radar years ago. His specialty is Artificial Intelligence. He probably told Bert to Google Chichalode Rebbizio, Ph.D. to ensure his legitimacy.

            It was all there. 

            Chick’s CV (Curriculum Vitae,) his photos and his many accomplishments. Those including his numerous scholarly publications all listed and on display. In addition, Bert saw the news stories about the controversy that made Chick an exile in the scientific community. Chick was the real deal.

            Chick called his detractors, “Fucking Liberal Cock breaths. He was picking up New York lingo and expressing himself quite well for a newcomer. 

            “During the interrogations, I complimented him on his adaption to New York City. His articulation of New York street language was  quite impressive” The detective added.

            This was the deal with Chick:

            He made the mistake of using scientific fact. He had the gall to call out Al Gore and the others who insist on believing phony computer projections instead of empirical research. The lies that perpetuate the left wing myth Chick believes is Global Warming aka Climate Change.

            The committee democrats all, it seemed on cue, uncomfortably grumbled amongst themselves.

            And Chick paid the price. As is the tactic of the violent left-wing liberals. Chick claims, and he was, and according to our research, excoriated in the left wing European mainstream media. 

            Then the scientific community turned on him. His funding for research totally disappeared. They even found a reason to remove him from his tenured post at the University. One year he was the toast of the scientific community, the next year designated a scientific and intellectual hack.

            In essence, he was persona non grata in the world wide scientific and academic community  to which he had devoted his genius. 

            He left for America and obscurity. He was fortunate to have had amassed a substantial fortune by prudent investing. Chick decided to take a break from most of his research.


            The detective refreshed himself with the bottled water provided. He asked if there were any questions or clarifications. 

            The democrat chairwoman of the committee Naomi Shakir- Siklkowitz raised an issue: The parallel lines that existed between Bert and Chick’s situations and their serendipitous meeting. She found it all annoying and quite incredulous. Her political biases were to naturally distrust cops and those who do not tow the left wing line (like Chick.)

            “That’s what happens in Frankie Neptune short stories,” the detective answered. “If it were not for Frankie Neptune’s writings, we all wouldn’t exist. Albeit is a limited existence in Frankie’s imagination and in this particular short story as it is read on 

            “Who knows?” The detective continued.

            “But there’s the chance some of us may make it into one of Frankie Neptune’s future novels as the main character. But I ain’t holding out no hope for me. I mean - a fuckin’ detective with two Ph.D.’s and a photographic memory - Bitch, Please!

            Shocked into her own unreality, N’aomi muttered: “Oh, I see, please continue.”


            Chick was probably working on a mind enhancement AI algorithm. This procedure can develop into an App that would delve deep into the mind and extract what one ultimately desired. Conversely, we believe the App can be manipulated to have a person told what they really should desire.

            Chick must have believed at one time this type of App should never see the light of day. It was all too dangerous, especially in the wrong hands. So that’s why we think Chick decided to keep the App a secret.

            Just imagine. No advertising. The business owners would select exactly what to tell the consumers what they wanted the consumers to desire along with the degree of desirability. It was at the minimum one thousand times more effective than anything Google or Amazon could or would ever develop in AI.

            Word was the vulture venture capitalists were striving for its development. Chick knew there were others involved in the same type of research. But he had done his in total secrecy. He also knew he was the only one who could calculate the variances to make it work.  

            There were no prior research funds connected to Chick even having a remote connection to this type of AI project. That meant no organization would be able to claim their investment on this AI project if Chick decided to release it.

            The other researchers were light years behind. As an aside, the detective stated he believed  Chick had the ability and brains to be one confident fuck, but without the arrogance usually connected.

            Chick had the App finished about a month before meeting Bert. We believe Chick wanted to use his discovery to help Bert avenge his partners' death and the loss of their business.

            Chick was what we call: A stand-up guy.

            A friend needed him, he was there. As we say in the NYPD: “A cop’s cop.” The detective stared right at N'aomi when he uttered this last statement.

            The detective also added as an addendum:  Chick probably had done a dry run on the App with those luscious German muffins the guys met at the after hours club. He knew adjustments had to be made to the App when the girls rejected the proffered threesome and subsequent lesbian activity. When contacted in Berlin, the ladies would not corroborate the activities as described by the guys or use of any App.

             Anyway, Bert probably agreed to use the App. Now his creativeness must have kicked in on how to best use it to exert his revenge.


            They promote the App through social media and direct marketing. Bert probably had the list of all the nasty critics. Chick can hack into their other social media to locate them in seconds. He also can find the identities of the people who jumped on the bandwagon that doomed Bert and Harrys Queens Gardens at Tribeca with the same ease on the internet.

            A deal was struck with a new and upcoming restaurant over in the East Village. They agree to be ground zero for the introduction of the new App. The owners stocked all types of food to satisfy many pallets. 

            The invites all went out. Included are the targeted individuals selected by Bert. They are offered a free meal worth $100.00 if they show up with the free App installed on their phone. The critics are advised the technology will let them remain anonymous as to avoid any conflict of interest.

            It was all a rousing success. People were amazed at how satisfied they were after their meal. Most compare it to an orgasim. The only thing they didn’t know was the one little latent desire the AICIU allege was left in Bert’s  targeted miscreants subconscious.

            Without using the App, it would engage in auto mode with a stealth desire.


            When confronted, Bert and Chick laughed and said if the AICIU theory were true, they’d name their victims “App-A-Teasers." We believed the two had programmed a specific AIDS infected street person as the object of each specific App-A-Teaser victims desire.

            It is also apparent they had a GPS in the App that appeared to instinctively direct the App-A-Teaser to his or her “AIDS Dispenser.” That’s the name Bert and Chick came up with to augment our theory of the alleged crime.   

            Bert and Chick were not only helpful, but enjoyed the experience of interrogation.

            We surmised the AIDS Dispensers had no idea how they were involved. They probably ate something that contained a GPS that remained in their systems. We were unable to tie Bert and Chick to any of the Aids Dispensers


            Within months the App-A-Teasers all exhibited the same desire: They were driven by an insatiable urge to seek out and sexually encounter the most disgusting AIDS infected individuals apparently chosen for them.

            The App-A-Teasers were compelled to sexually violate these people numerous times. They had to make sure copious amounts of body fluids were exchanged. We suspect many of the Aids Dispensers were well compensated by the App-A-Teasers for their sexual services.


            The AICIU concluded, after months of investigation, the only commonality all these App-A-Teasers had: They all visited that one restaurant during that one week of the App Rollout.

            There were hundreds and hundreds more at that one restaurant. Including the numerous other restaurants that signed on and utilized the App with no negative results.

            The is no factual evidence to tie Bert and Chick to the infected people that constitute a crime. Especially since there is no apparent manipulation or defect in the App.

            There is a crime. It is in the NYSPL. But we can’t prove or develop it into the serious AI nature it deserves. We can't even prove food poisoning. Promoting Prostitution/Soliciting - Nothing, Nada, Bupkis.

            The AICIU put together the alleged fact pattern I have presented. The two suspects, Bert and Chick were re-interviewed. We knew what they had done. But could not prove it. And it was not against the law. They said their App was not at fault and had nothing to do with it.

            The Center For Disease Control, The Food and Drug Administration, Homeland Security or any other agency has not addressed this at all.

            Bert admits he had a desire for revenge. He now claims he has forgiven those he once thought were responsible for his business failure and the death of his partner. He claims he is now a born-again Christian and holds no hate. Then he smiles. The AICIU thinks he’s full of shit.

            Chick just admits to being Bert’s new business partner. They still reside in Queens.

            The NYPD FCCU (Forensic Cyber Crimes Unit) could not find any fault with the App. The ACICU had to officially conclude it was the normal desires of all the App-A-Teasers that made them take those drastic sex actions leading to contracting AIDS. An unusual sociological event. There was no proven intent on the part of the App developers, Bert and Chick. 

            At this time there is nothing in the NYSPL to charge as an “attempted” crime. The District Attorney has declined any prosecution. He even uses the App.


            The committee got back to the nuts and bolts of the type of hearing they were accustomed. The mundane would wash over the proceedings.

             It was soon time for the lunch break.

            Somehow, all the senators had lost their appetites.


Stephen A. Murray’s  first  Frankie Neptune novel

“NYPD The Way Things Were”

is now available on



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