Blake C. Stacey"That's, what, the third, fourth body this week? And the same MO," said the private eye, nudging just a bit into the lieutenant's personal space.
The coder's body sat in his $500 swivel chair. The crime-scene techs were stepping gingerly as they tallied the empty cans of energy drinks and cartons from the burrito taxi.
A rumble from outside, growing stronger as the train approached, until the vinrations were just strong enough to wobble the chair, and the coder's head slooped downward, hanging from his neck like a sack of pudding.
The PI mused, "Bet you thought it was bad enough when AI only caused *skill* loss."