I knew there was a problem when I woke up. I was too well rested like I’d somehow managed to sleep the entire night. Guilt and unanswered questions had made sure I hadn’t been able to sleep well in days.

It all started when I found Dickens’s Great Expectations on the ‘Reshelf’ cart. A small recipe sub was wedged between pages 104 and 105, evidence that the previous author had given up reading prematurely (and seeing as it was Dickens, I couldn’t blame them). One side of the paper was completely beguine, showing the owner had purchased a coffee from one of the many street vendors a few weeks back. Flipping it over I found the words “31760095E Main” scrawled in red pen. It didn’t make much sense at the time but I pocketed the slip of paper. Either because I got too busy or simply forgot, the receipt remained unnoticed on my nightstand- until Nym started pounding on my door one morning.

---

It wasn’t like her at all. Nym, with her dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and slender, long legs, was polite if not a little aloof. This morning, however, she completely discarded our unvoiced agreement to avoid each other as much as possible in our 600 sqf apartment. Dressing quickly, I headed out into the living room. The news was playing on our small TV screen. Black smoke billowed out of a large, six-story office building. The words “Explosion wipes out power over several blocks” ticked across the top in bright red. My first panicked thoughts where about my parents and coworkers.

“Where was it?” I demanded.
“95th East Main.”
Good. I didn’t know anyone who lived around that area of the city. Something began to niggle in the back of my brain.
”They say it happened at 6 o’clock on the dot,” Nym said without me asking. We continued to watch the coverage together in silence for a while. Then the niggling started again.
”What’s todays date?” I asked.
Her sigh told me she was quickly getting tired of my company and regretting waking me up in the first place. ”It’s the seventeenth.” There must have been something about the look on my face because she quickly added, ”Why?”
Without answering, I sprinted back to my room and flipped the receipt over to reveal the red writing again. ”31760095E Main.” The slight dread that had played across by brain bloomed into full out panic. ”March 17, 6:00, 95 East Main.”

Nearly knocking Nym out of the way, I bolted into the shared bathroom and locked to door. I tore the slip of paper into pieces and set them on fire using a nearby lighter. Still feeling unsatisfied, I flushed the ashes down the toilet. Only after pushing the button did I realize my mistake. My initial worry had been that this piece of paper could link me to the bombing, albeit accidentally. However, in destroying the paper I was, in fact, an acting accomplice. I tried to assure myself that no one knew about my crime but the thought was less than comforting.

Later, I tried to look up who was the last person to check that book out. The answer was Mildred Backer, a woman of 23 who has been deceased for over ten years.

---

I open my eyes and roll over to glance over at the now empty spot of the nightstand. Next to it, my alarm clock flashes 1200 in red, evidence that some electrical surge knocked it out. Groaning I roll out of bed, strip out of my grey regulation pajamas, shower, and don my navy regulation work uniform complete with a navy polo shirt and navy slacks. Some people complain about the color but I figure its yards better than street worker orange or cab driver yellow or landscaper green. Only a few of us get a more flexible clothing uniform- the scientists, the businessmen- something about boosting productivity. I suppose no one cares about productive librarians.

Reviewing arrest reports always such a joyful way to start off the day. This report has a little bit of everything in it all wrapped up with a nice shining bow on it. Two groups of "subversives" arrested for breaking into a party for the Westlake's causing mayhem, assaulting several officers on the scene, and stealing. What was it all about? Survival they were trying to feed their family. What they stole were scraps off of the plates and left overs in the kitchen which would've fed their families for a week. In the past I would've been one of the first ones to congratulate my fellow law officers, but now it makes me want to vomit. Worse is seeing the footage on the news this morning how these "terrorists" are being vilified in the media, and how the Westlakes are being viewed as the victims. This world has truly descended to a level of Hell no human being could've ever imagined.

Just then I hear a knock at my door as I sit at my desk nursing a cup of coffee. I say, "It's open come in." The door opens I look up and see my father Jason standing there and he asks, "Am I bothering you?"

I reply, "No not at all come on dad have a seat." I ask, "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

Dad replies, "No don't have a lot of time I just thought I would come and see you for a few minutes. I got a doctor's appointment in about an hour." My dad looks around and says "Nice office how does it feel to a Prefect? Not on the streets all the time, reviewing the work of others, lecturing at the academy twice a month, being able to come and go as you wish."

I smile and shake my head as I say, "Dad this is only my second day as a Prefect. At least give me a month to get things figured out on my own and I'll let you know. Besides the paperwork is already making me nostalgic for wading in the mud and sewers chasing suspected subversives. Besides it's a title that carries a lot more weight to it like having to wear a bulletproof vest almost all the time, because someone might take a shot at you when you least expect it."

My dad smiles and chuckles a bit. He looks at me for a moment and says, "I am so proud of you son. You have gone to heights that your grandfather and I could've never dreamed of. You're a fine officer and an even better son. I know i was hard on you when you were growing up, but I hope now you see that it was worth it."

I reply, "Well it wasn't always a day at the beach, but you instilled in me a drive to do what was right and a strong work ethic. For those two things I thank you. They brought me to this point and I am proud of that."

Dad nods and says, "Excellent son. Well I gotta get going." He stands up and smiles at me saying, "Keep the peace son and know that we're proud of you."

I stand up and say, "Thanks for stopping by dad. Let me know what the doc says."

Dad replies, "Will do son take care."

My dad leaves and I sit back down and reflect on what he said, He's taking some of the credit for my success and to a point he's justified, but some of his methods in drilling discipline and "work ethic" as he calls it; they leave a lot to be desired. Not to mention if he knew what I was planning there's no doubt he would turn me in. I rub the inside of my bulletproof vest and feel the outline of a file folder. I redesigned my vest so it has a false compartment for smuggling folders and certain other items out of the station. As a Prefect I have certain privileges and rarely am I ever questioned. This folder is a show of trust for a meeting later tonight. Hope I know what I'm doing....

Eating a breakfast prepared by the staff that works harder than kitchen staff in this section of town while watching a holocube recounting last night's "festivities". So begins another day for mommy & daddy's little princess. It's now a breakfast of toast and lots and lots of fruit, because according to my mother I had been looking a "bit more stout" and that was simply not going to do. Especially since she and my father were doing everything they could to make sure that I ended up with Bradley Collins. Bradley had only one flaw in life; he was perfect! Had the right hair, eyes, an answer for everything, and of course came from a very well off family. Most of my "friends" would sell their grandmothers out as subversives to get a chance at Bradley. My parents though are one of the privileged ones though, because they had wealth that was on par with the Collins family. Which of course would lead to a corporate merger that is the stuff of legend. Not to mention the pressure of having grandchildren as soon as possible thus ensuring the blood lines will go on for another generation. Nice to know that my parents don't let pesky little things like my happiness, or the fact that the Collins family is as slimy as they are get in the way of a good merger. Last night members of the revolution raided our dinner party. May God forgive me for this, but I was hoping for either my parents to get shot or for them to take me with them, I can't believe that for so long I was so blind to what my family is, but I am taking steps to change all that. Baby steps mind you but steps none the less.

I hear the gentle "woosh" of the sun deck door open as my mother enters the kitchen area. Mom isn't a horrible person I think if she was dropped into the middle of one of the worse sections in town she would last maybe 5-10 minutes. Then she would say something that got her killed probably about a person's breeding.

Mom says, "Ahh good morning Ellen how are you feeling after last night? I had a dreadful time trying to sleep. It took two sleeping shots to help me cope with the stress of having those terrorists ruin our party."

Okay El this is the part where you turn on the charm and be reassuring, I say, "Sorry to hear that." I take a sip of my coffee. All in all I think that was pretty good considering what I really wanted to say.

Mom asks, "Are you all right you seem a bit out of it? If any of those heathens did something to you your father and I will see to it that they're crushed like the roaches they are. I hear they are starting to use bio-weapons we have to stop them before they get more weapons like that."

Now it's time for an Academy Award performance. I turn to mom and blink and say, "Mom if they had any advanced weapons or anything of that nature I truly believe they'd be using them to escape not to fight against us. They don't stand a chance against us."

Mom is reassured by this and says, "Of course you're right." She presses a button on the wall and says, "Suzanne please bring me my usual breakfast, and tell Charles if he burns my toast again it will cost him dearly."

A voice from the speaker says, "Yes Mrs. Westlake."

As mom sits down I say, "Well if you'll excuse me I need to get ready for work. I have some copy to edit for this afternoon's update."

Mom replies, "Very well don't forgot we're meeting the Collins at the club at 6 tonight."

I reply as I walk away, "Can't wait." Luckily mom can't see me roll my eyes. As I leave to go upstairs to get dressed Suzanne walks by me. The staff is forbade to make eye contact with us, but I touch her arm quickly and she looks at me.

She is stunned by her action and a look of fear spreads across her face. I give her a quick wink and Suzanne looks like she's about to smile but is trying not to. I smile at her and Suzanne smiles back. Nice to know I made a difference in someway for someone today.

I look down at my watch and take note of the time- five more minutes to enjoy my coffee in relative peace before I have to head into the lab. Fleetingly I think of Charles and how I should have checked on him since I didn’t hear the bathroom shower running as I headed out the door. These thoughts have the tiniest bit of guilt and embarrassment mixed in them, similar to the small chunks of artificial sugar still floating at the top of my coffee. No matter how I try, they won’t go away. It wasn’t entirely my fault that I didn’t feel inclined to interact with him, it was simply that ever since the morning of the bombing, he’d begun activity avoiding me.

”So, any neeews yet?”

Someone bumped into my elbow and I just managed to avoid having my coffee spilled all over my pristine lab coat. I looked over to see it the small, plump frame of Sally Enright, her large green eyes focused on me.

”News?” I said, my mind still preoccupied by my roommate who was, more than likely, still sound asleep.

”About the designation?” Sally prompted.

I often found myself wondering what exactly Sally’s job was. Since we (thankfully) didn’t work in my lab, I had little interaction with her outside of the break room. Unlike the rest of the staff, she never seemed to be worried or stressed or under any pressure at all. I would have chalked it up to personality except for the fact that she was perpetually asking people about their jobs or their life to such a degree that it was almost like she had nothing better to do for her time. The part of my brain I tried not to listen to- the logical part- told me that the only explanation was that Sally was some sort of spy whose job was to keep tabs on scientists.

”No news about my husband-to-be just yet,” I said and tried to force a smile, ”I...uh… have to run. I’ll see you around.”

Throwing the empty paper cup of coffee away in the trashcan, I head down the hall and press my watch against the sensor at my lab’s door. An acrid smell of dying flowers and animal litter wafted past as I step inside.

Walking to my computer, I turn it on and check out the most recent data from the reports. My eyes scan past numbers and calculations when I feel breath on my neck. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s my supervisor, Dr. Lark.

“Any luck?” He asked, his voice sounding cool and indifferent although I know otherwise.

”Not yet. It’s hard to get the right balance. Too little and the drug has no effect. Too much and the subjects lose their appetite and become sleep deprived.” My fingernails click against the glass of one of the nearby rat cages, emphasizing my point.

”More productive people who eat less might not be such a bad thing,” Lark suggests but I know- or hope- he’s making a joke so I ignore the comment.

”It’s also affecting the subject’s memory and ability to learn new things.” I continue on, ”Plus it’s rather addictive.”

It's near lunch time for most of the workers, but being I'm a Prefect I can call lunchtime whenever I want for me. I decided 11:15 was the perfect lunchtime for me, so I head down to a little Italian place called "Rizzo's", It's a little hole in the wall place that if you blink as you walk by you'll miss it run by a family named the Marcotti's. They're good people and I tend to think I'm closer to them than my own family in a lot of ways. It's in an area that just borders the outside of one of the "nicer" parts of town called "The Wasteland." I've been coming here for years and the family has always been good to me. I've known them since my rookie days when my dad brought me here to celebrate my first day on the job. The difference between me and other cops was I always paid for my meals. The others saw it as their "right" to eat for free here, but as everyone left I always dropped something on the table.

Angela Marcotti, the owner's daughter, is working today and she says, "Hey there Officer...I mean Prefect Wallace."

I smile and say, "Angela it's just me here, and what have I always said to you."

Angela smiles and says, "Hi Marty."

I reply, "Hey there beautiful have a seat for a moment." Angela is seven months along and the poor 5 foot girl who usually weighs 90 pounds soaking wet looks like she's gonna pop open. She looks around nervously and I say, "Angela this one is on me if your pops says anything." Angela sheepishly looks around and then finally sits down.

She asks, "So what's it like being one of the big shots downtown now?"

I shrug my shoulders and say, "Not much difference except now I'm behind a desk. At least that's what I can tell for now it's only been two days."

Just then I hear the open and then close just as quickly. I turn around and say, "Must be the wind. Anyway I'm okay with it but the paperwork seems like it'll drive me to drink."

I hear Anglea's father Marco yell at her, "Angela! Why you sitting down? You should be working! We got customers coming in soon!"

I yell back, "Lighten up Marco! It's just me and there's no one else here right now!"

Mario sticks his head out the door and smiles as he sees me. He says, "Hey yo Marty! How're you? My friend Marty!" He comes over and I stand up we embrace and he kisses me on the cheek twice. I say, "Doing all-right."

Mario says, "Your usual right. Steak sub, fries, and a soda to go."

I nod and say, "You know me so well my friend."

Mario gestures with an open hand and says, "I love this guy. You treat us as good as you can. I love you Marty."

I reply, "I love you too Mario. How's Alexis?"

Mario shakes his head slowly and says, "I hope for a miracle Marty, but her heart only has so many beats in it. I hope and pray that she lasts long enough to see the birth of her grandchild...." Mario chokes up a bit and says, "She wants to be a grandparent so bad. I hope she gets that chance."

Without even thinking I embrace Mario and say, "She's got my prayers, as does your family."

Mario pulls back and says, "Your family? After all you've done for us you are family to us Marty" He points at me and says, "You are family too! Got it?"

I reply with great respect, "Yes papa."

This makes Mario smile and say, "That's better. I'll get your food ready."

As he leaves I sit back down with Angela and she says, "You're like a son to him Marty. He loves you as much as any of us, and considering our position in the order of things that means so much to us. Thank you for all you've done for us."

I nod and say, "I do what I can Angela, Just sorry I couldn't save Eddie from the beat down he got from the established ones. If I'd only been five minutes faster I could've saved him. The tragedy for me is that your child will never know it's father, and I'm to blame for that."

Angela replies, "Okay you get there in time, and then what? You would've been caught for aiding a subversive. What Eddie did he did to save the future for our child and hundreds of others. One day the scales will balance, and you will be remembered for your kindness Marty." She reaches out and squeezes my hand and says, "No one in our family will ever blame you for what happened. We know if you had been there you would've done what you could to save him, and for that we are grateful."

Mario yells from the kitchen, "It's up Marty!"

I stand up and drop a 20 on the table and say, "Wow it fell out again." I smile and another 20 "falls out." Angela stands up and I kiss her gently on the cheek. I say, "Take care dear one. I love you."

Angela replies, "I love you too Marty."

I grab my to go order and say to Mario, "Much love to you papa."

He smiles back at me and says, "Ciao Marty. You take care we love you."

I grab my food, put on my coat, and leave. It's people like Mario and his family that remind me that no matter how bad things get God is still alive and there is still good in this world, because God is the only who could've brought angels like Mario and his family into my life.

As I make my way back to the station I feel something in my pocket. I pull out a note that says, "Alley: Pearl & Phillips 7:30 bring the file."

It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to know that the opening and closing of that door was someone making a drop. I tear the note in the middle one half I drop in the sewer the other in a trash can 3 blocks away from Rizzo's.

Okay tonight things could get interesting. Again I hope I know what I'm doing.

”You’re late Charles. Again.”

Let it never be said that Gracie lacked a talent for stating the obvious. My supervisor looked up at me from behind a stack of books, her green spiked hair practically glowing under the florescent lights.

”My alarm clock went out,” I protested.
”Alarm clocks are supposed to auto-sync.”
”I know. Imagine my surprise when I found out mine didn’t.”
One green eyebrow raised. It was obvious to both of us that I wasn’t surprised.
”And your watch? You should have it set as a…”
I pointed to the metallic waste of space on my wrist. ”Hasn’t been working since last Thursday. I told you that.” The statement wasn’t one-hundred percent correct. My watch still functioned as a key, allowing me access to my apartment, and various archival rooms in the library during normal business hours. It also stored my banking information and allowed me to charge directly to my pitiful banking account. Did it tell time? Nope. I’d made the report to the Office of Security. Apparently they had more important things to worry about lately- like finding the responsible person behind the bombing. Next to that, a middle class citizen’s ability to tell the time simply by looking down at their extremities was not very concerning.
”Right, right…” she said, her eyes wandering back to the stack of books in front of her, ”Well don’t be late again.”

I started to walk off. It was Tuesday, my first day of the week (since I worked through Saturday) and chances were good that I’d have a ton of books to sort through and even a few to repair. It was a rare thing indeed for new novels to be published and the old ones were in constant need of repair. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to repatch the cover of “A Midsummer Night's Dream.” Sure we had the digital version, but most citizens couldn’t afford the luxury of that technology. I took all of two steps towards my desk before Gracie called me back again.

She held out a small white envelope that could have fit easily in the palm of her hand. ”Someone left this for you.”

I took it cautiously. It was completely sealed, and aside from my name scrawled in neat black ink, there was nothing else that stood out. Never the less my stomach was doing summersaults. ”Who left this for me?”

Gracie just shrugged. Her eyes turned back to her computer screen as she continued to scan the barcodes of the books. ”They dropped by around the time we opened. I didn’t really catch a good look. You know, if you’d come to work on time…”

I didn’t wait for her to finish before I started ripping open the letter. I could feel all the blood drain from my face and quickly turned around trying to hide my reaction from Gracie. On the front of the card, decorated with tiny white flowers was scrawled the following “Alley: Pearl & Phillips 7:30”. On the back- We know that you know.

My eyes dart around me but everyone seems content to go about their own business. Was this a message from the Rebels? Surely if it were the government they’d have drug me away in chains already.

I am slipping into a skin tight black spandex sweat suit and a pair of black running shoes at my office. The suit is telling me where I might want to consider losing some weight. Black spandex isn't the most forgiving item on the planet, but I don't care I'm ready to go out for the night. Everyone has their way of dealing with the way our world is. My parents plan out my future so it mirrors my older sister's life. A husband whose parents can help my parents either increase or keep their wealth, two kids, and a life that is so serene and plastic-feeling. I feel like I might lose my dinner just thinking about it.

I survived the day at work and once that was over I came home to get a shower. Not so much to clean off any physical dirt that I had, but it was more of a psychological thing. I had just made it sound like that the members of the Revolt were preparing to slaughter the entire dining hall at my parent's party, and that the police did what they had to do to keep order. That wasn't even close to what reality was. The reality was these people were just trying to survive, but that didn't fit the narrative of what those who are in-power want. Everyone praised my work and wondered how I was able to do it so effectively. I told them I just went with what I saw with my family which is more or less true. I saw something and just told it from the point of view of my family and not my own. There can be gray areas within the truth it's just a matter of what your point of view is.

Surviving the dinner at the club was a bit more difficult. Bradley kept trying to put his hand on my thigh under the table, and I think I should get an Oscar for smiling and looking as though I enjoyed it. I should get a medal for not slugging him in front of everyone and storming out. The conversation made me wish I was in a room full of howling wet cats. It had a lot to do with making sure that what was ours was protected against those who were "terrorists" and playfully teasing me about Bradley and I. None of it was about how I felt about all this or anything of substance concerning our society. Bradley tried to invite me back to his place after my work was done, but I told him I had "cramps." I didn't and I hate using that but in a lot of ways cramps are way more preferable to Bradley. Mom and Dad decide to stay with Collins longer I told them I had some research to catch up on at the office, and that's again more or less true. I'm researching the Revolt, and how to join up with them and that isn't going to happen sitting here in an office. I always keep workout gear in my office in case I feel the need to burn off some stress,, and luckily because of my position in this office I have a private shower and entrance/exit as well.

I slip out of the building and once outside I slip into the sewer system. Within minutes I am in a part of town that again my mom would last 10 minutes in. I slip out of the sewer and begin to walk around. Just then I see a mob charging towards me, and I see the police in pursuit. I stand off to the side and then join the running. I figure if nothing else i can slip in with them and maybe learn a few things.

Just then the police have another section closed off. I dash down an alley off of Pearl & Phillips Street and without even thinking I dive into a dumpster and close the lid. On the bright side once the action outside dies out I can sneak off to my office and get a shower, but sadly this outfit is gonna have to be destroyed. Bummer...I really like it too,

-

”Hey, Nym, did you hear what I said?”

I looked up at the face of my best friend Claudette. Although she’s sitting on the barstool beside me, she almost a full head taller. Claudette is blessed with a long torso, long legs, and long silky black curls. If we hadn’t known each other for years, I might have felt over shadowed by her looks. By day she an accountant for the Department of Finance, by night she was a sex-kitten despite the fact that she’s been ‘married’ for almost a year. Claudette confessed to me once that she only accepted the designation because it promised financial stability and because he too came from a high ranking family. I often suspected that I have a better relationship with Charles that she does with her partner.

”I said, don’t you think that dress over there is gorgeous? I want one.”

I looked at the direction she indicated. The dress was indeed gorgeous, at least if you were in to shimmering, black silk that draped across your body and barely managed to conceal parts of your chest. It was clear the woman wasn’t wearing a bra.

”I wonder how it manages to stay on. Tape maybe?”

Claudette looked at me incredulously before her mouth formed a smile. ”Maybe. I’ll go ask her.” With that she downed her martini in one go and headed off. Normally I would follow at her heals but I didn’t feel in the mood and I knew my friend could handle herself. Despite the loud music, upbeat tempo, and mash of bodies strung together on the dance floor, nothing in Club Esscro could distract me from my thoughts. Like a mantra the words pounded my brain over and over again.

Mildred Backer. Vitamin 546.

Mildred Backer. Vitamin 546.

Mildred Backer. Vitamin 546.

Mildred Backer was the name of the assistant who worked with Dr. Lark before I had joined his lab. I had thought the doctor had always worked alone but the truth was that he just hadn’t had an assistant in a long time.

Mildred Backer. Vitamin 546.

Mildred Backer. Vitamin 546.

Mildred Backer. Vitamin 546.

I shouldn’t be so clumsy. I shouldn’t have stayed late at work. I never meant drop my keys behind the filing cabinet. I should have gone straight to the club. Why did I enter the user name and password I found scribbled on a piece of notebook paper into my computer?

Mildred Backer. Vitamin 546.

Mildred Backer. Vitamin 546.

Mildred Backer. Vitamin 546.

Vitamin 546 was the project Dr. Lark and Dr. Backer had worked on together. Ten years ago it was released to the market where it met with booming success. Although it’s prescription only, it’s fairly easy to get ahold of and is prescribed to help treat everything from depression to arthritis.

”Only it doesn’t treat depression and arthritis, does it Nym?” A voice whispers in my head. ”Mildred Baker knew that too. Maybe that’s why Mildred’s not around anymore?

Mildred Backer. Vita-

A loud screech next to me has me almost jump out of my skin, but it’s just Claudette sliding her stool closer to mine.

”Thought you looked a little lonely over here.” she says before getting the bar tender’s attention and ordering another drink. When she turns away, I see an outline of bright red lipstick on her cheek. I don’t say anything right away but wait until my heart settles back into my chest and I can breathe again.

-

-

I got about another 10 minutes before I have to be at the alley, and I'm about half-a block away as I hear the raid in progress. I wear not all-black for this because wearing all-black is a sure sign of drawing attention to one's self, but the dark colors and hat will help me blend into the alley way. I knew this raid was coming tonight and I wish I could've told my contact to avoid this area, but I wasn't be sure who it was although after some thinking I got an idea who it is.

One of the advantages of being a Prefect is I can stand off to the side and try not to blend in with the other police officers and just say I am observing the raid and making notes. Episodes like these are actually pretty useful learning tools for both sides mainly because rookies for both sides are sent out. The pawns go forth first while the real power players sit back and watch. They're above the fray and aren't too keen on getting their hand dirty in these situations. The police rookies see if they can track down anyone and the rebels see if they can avoid capture. It's almost like a glorified war games situation. Well except for the fact that live ammo is being used and that people are actually trying to kill one another over a wide landscape, but other than that it's just like war games. Sometimes my logic makes my head hurt.

As I step out of a side alley I hear a voice scream, "You stop right there!"

I pay it no mind and continue to walk and the voice yells again, "I said stop!" Suddenly there is a gun fired and misses me by inches. Okay now this person has my attention.

I raise my hands up and turn around slowly and just glare at him. He approaches me in a almost a sprint as he says, "On the ground now!" I continue my glare at him and he says, "I said on the....oh no...I...I..." The young man realizes what he just did and who I am.

I ask putting my hands down, "What's your name Officer?"

He replies with a shaky voice, "Umm...umm...Jacobs. Office Jacobs sir. With Metro South sector 2-14 sir."

I nod and ask, "Are you scared Officer Jacobs?"

Jacobs shakes his head and says, "No no sir. Just cold sir."

I chuckle and say, "If you're smart you're scared. You don't know what can happen here on the streets and that fear will help keep you aware of your surroundings, and keep you mindful of your training. You handled the situation with me correctly, but never fire a warning shot. You never know when someone else is armed you fire a warning shot they could return fire. Always go for the wound never a kill shot first off. You don't know what information they might have or who they might be. Understood?"

Jacobs nods and replies, "I understand Prefect. Thank you sir."

I nod up the street and say, "Carry on Officer Jacobs, and so you know I was never here."

Jacobs replies, "Yes sir Prefect." He salutes me and I return his salute.

Jacobs heads up the street I say to myself, "There goes the future of Law Enforcement." I shake my head and roll my eyes as I make my way to the alley and wait.

What the hell was I doing here? The answer was, of course, that I was crouched in a small alleyway, trying to hide myself behind the large dumpster I’d found there. At my feet were fruit peels, old news-papers, spent cigarettes and other kinds of imaginable refuse that hadn’t quite made it into the garbage container. The cool evening air was ripe with putrid smells. If I wasn’t so terrified of being caught I think I would have vomited. Then again, if I wasn’t worried about being caught, I wouldn’t be wedged up against this damned dumpster to begin with.

Things had started off well enough (which thinking back should have been a sign). The location on the note wasn’t close to the library, and since I’d over slept, I thought it would be a good idea and help pacify some of Gracie’s wraith by working later than usual. I’d arrived about fifteen minutes early and decided to wait around. At least, that was the initial plan until I’d heard the beginning of the police raid nearby and ducked into the alleyway. Now I was squatting in this putrid place while my work clothes became damp from nervous sweat. Even if I somehow managed to make it out of the situation alive, Nym would certainly have some questions. Part of me wanted to throw myself of the mercy of the law enforcement. The problem with this was that my first instinct had been to hide. If I’d come scrambling out of the alley at the beginning, I could have given the excuse of being lost but the longer I lingered about, crouching in the shadows, the guiltier I’d become.

”Damn it,” I whisper into the creeping darkness around me.

Nearby the police sirens continued to wail. Every now and then I hear shouting and what sounds to me like the police are trying to break down a nearby building, one wall at a time. I wonder what they’re after. Maybe there’s a Rebel base nearby or a drug strong hold. Rumor is the head of Resistant’s black market lives somewhere in the area. Then again, for all I know, it could be routine. Prior to the bombing, the government would often have random raids. Of course, they’d never admit they were ‘random’ but I sometimes felt these happened because the police grew bored or simply wanted to show they were working to fix the Rebel threat. For reasons no one ever seems to ask, the general rule for raids was that the poorer your neighborhood, the more likely it was to be targeted.

In my mind, the voice of my third grade teacher rings out. ”You think too much, Charles. If you don’t watch out, you’ll think yourself to death.” She always said those words with a smile, but the threat they portrayed crystal clear even to my eight-year-old self.

My heart skips a beat as a gun fires nearby. Despite my dark navy clothes, I feel like I stand out like a beacon. Looking around the alley, I search for a better place to hide but aside from a few broken cardboard boxes, nothing is big enough. The only better hiding place is inside the dumpster. Mentally I weigh the decision. On hand, its metal shell may provide a bit of protection or at least hide me from anyone who chooses to walk down alley. On the other hand, it’s bound to make some noise when I open it and the thought of having to be inside it and suffocating on stale rancid air (let alone sit in yesterday’s leavings) makes my skin crawl.

Thankfully I’m saved from making the decision. My entire body freezes as I hear the approach of footsteps.

I make my way down the alley and feel strangely safe inspite of the fact that I'm in an alley at night with no gun, an illegal file, rebels and police shooting at one another, and I'm getting ready to commit myself to an act of treason against the Government I've sworn to defend. Yep perfectly safe except now I see someone dressed in dark navy clothing. Either he is here to join as well or he is the single worst lookout in the history of Espionage. As I approach I see that he's a young man and is clearly nervous. Time to ease this poor soul's apprehension.

I say as I get close enough, "Relax you're safe the police won't bother you as long as I'm here." I get in front of him and say, "Prefect Martin Wallace. Don't worry if I was gonna arrest you on suspicion or some other charge I would've done it by now, and I wouldn't be coming down this alley alone. Relax we're here because we got the same note and we're looking to make certain changes in our lives." I give the young man a smile and say, "I know who our contact is I'll bring him out and we'll get things under way."

I walk over to a near by metal door and pound on it twice. Luckily with the action going on only those of us in the alley can hear us. After I pound on the door I say, "The 'shrooms on that last steak sandwich were little skimpy." I step back and the door opens I can familiar features as the door slowly opens, and then I see a smile as out steps Mario.

He is now shaking his head and says, "You try getting fresh mushrooms in this place. You're lucky you get any on most days." We smile at each other and Mario says, "Good to see Marty. Tell how did you know it was me?"

I reply, "When I came in this afternoon Angela said hi to me and there was sudden silence. Mario in all the years I've known you and been to your place that is the first time I've ever heard the kitchen that quiet. I figured that you slipped out the back and dropped the note in my pocket. Only someone who knows me could've known that was my coat."

Mario turns to the young man and says, "This guy he's so smart." He clasps his left hand on my right cheek and says, "I love you Marty. Like you were my own son I love you. You're gonna be a major asset for our cause. You're gonna do great things I just know it."

I chuckle and say, "I just wanna make a difference that's all I want papa. Oh here is the file you requested." I reach into my vest, pull out the file, and give it to Mario. The file in question is about the raid that was conducted against Mario's son-in-law and his friends. Mario takes the file and says, "Thank you Marty. Thank you very much. This will bring much closure to the family. Are you sure that you were careful?"

I nod and say, "Being a Prefect does have certain privileges. Besides the case against Eddie is over and the file was put in storage. There are over 250,000 case files they won't miss one if they do I'll deal with it."

Mario nods and says, "Very well Marty. Now I'll give you something." He pulls out a copy of the book A tale of two cities it gives it to me. Mario says, "This a great book. read it and study it carefully Marty. It teaches about revolution and the costs that we expect of our members to pay. You will learn a new way to think, how to see things you haven't seen before, and how faith in humanity can take on many forms. Don't let us down Marty."

I look Mario in the eye and say, "It is a far far better thing that I do than I have ever done." I smile and Mario smiles back as he knows that I am already familiar with the book and he says slapping his right hand on my left cheek and says, "This guy. I love him love him!"

Mario turns to the young man who has been so patiently waiting and asks, "And you young man what is your name? I know his story now I want to know yours. Talk to us we brothers in arms."

I look up at the man who addressed me, my palms slick with sweat while my heat pumped so hard it feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest at any moment. In the dim light, it was hard to make out his features. He looked to be around 30 and had an air of authority like someone who’s used to being obeyed. I relaxed a little bit as he talked until he mentioned his job description. My eyes glanced towards the opening of the alley. It seemed miles away. Fleetingly I thought of making a run for it, bolting away like a scared rabbit but then the sound of the gun shot echoes through my mind. While it’s possible it wasn’t related to Prefect Wallace, I don’t want to take my chances.

Then he mentioned the note. ”Note?” I respond under my breath. He doesn’t seem to hear me. I wonder if he’s referring to the first of the second. Instead of calming me down, however, this new realization just increased my anxiety. Was this some sort of trap? Or was a Prefect really working with the Rebels? Either way, I was in way over my head. Suddenly a quick shot to the back of the head doesn’t seem like such a bad way to go. Hopefully it would be quick, if not painless. I doubted if the Rebels could cut me a better option. Rumor was a Rebel who got caught were tortured for weeks prior to their execution. That was, of course, if they didn’t just disappear into thin air, leaving not eve their dead bodies behind.

Silently, I walked behind Prefect Wallace, mentally tracing the quickest path to the exit if the opportunity arises. We stopped by a nondescript metal door flushed against the side of the building. Prefect Wallace pounds on it while I wait. Images ran into my mind about what could possibly be hiding behind it- a seedy club, a drug den, a crime boss’s lair, a torture chamber. The last thing I was expecting was a cook still in his food service uniform. I stood awkwardly, shifting from one leg to the other while I watched Wallace interact with the man. It felt like I was ease dropping on some family reunion, although the two men bore no resemblance that I could see.

What interested me the most was the book Wallace was handed. The golden letter sketched into the cover shone from the light behind the door. ”A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens” Was this book a fake some kind shell to carry things in? While I didn’t know every book in the world, I did know my literary classics and I knew for certain Charles Dickens hadn’t written that one.

"And you young man what is your name? I know his story now I want to know yours. Talk to us we brothers in arms."
The question started me out of my own thoughts.

I reached behind and scratched the back of my head. It was something I did when I was nervous. It drove my mother crazy. ”Well, I’m a librarian at the Main Library.” I waited to see if this was enough of an explanation. It wasn’t. ”I found a note in the book Great Expectations.” I paused again. I wondered how much these guys knew. ”It was checked out almost ten years ago, but there was a note inside that had the location…” I didn’t want to say what was on the note. I felt, between the police, and these two men, I had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. But the words on the note from today race through my mind. ”We know that you know” ”The note had the location and time of the bombing on the seventeenth. It was an accident. I didn’t know it was there. I destroyed it when I realized what it was. And I didn’t tell anyone, I swear.” The last words came running out, full force. ”Then I got a note today to come here. So I here I am.”

I’d like to say my confession made me feel better. In truth, I wanted to vomit.

With a cameo by :

I listen intently as Charles tells his story. A librarian is a powerful ally in a war such as this. They are guides to where we have been,where we are, and where we're going. I know Charles is a young man and that is putting a lot of pressure on him, but he chose to become a part of the fight and obviously someone in the revolution has seen something in him, One thing I've learned in my time with the Police is that you never know what's gonna happen until the bullets start flying.

I've seen men and women who were tough as nails in the boxing ring, or during war-games wet themselves and cry for their moms at the first sign of a real fight breaking out. Then again I've seen men and women who weighed maybe 110 soaking wet, and looked like they belonged in the records room become raging beasts the minute they hit the street. So the bottom line for Charles is I need to give him a chance to prove himself.

Mario turns to Charles and says, "You I see greatness in you. You are smart and you have a quality that we all must have in our cause." Mario puts his hand on the back of his neck and says, "Courage. You showed courage by coming here this evening. By trusting a man who could have us both arrested, and either being re-educated or killed. You are now one of us Charles. We will be in touch with you for we are getting ready to launch many offenses." Mario looks at both of us and says, "We truly for the first time in many years have the momentum in this war, and now we are ready to seize it. We are recruiting many others to our cause, and we are making ready to strike."

Mario nods at both of us and says, "We will be in touch, but for now it is time to go. Study those books my brothers for our time is drawing near." He only nods at Charles, but Mario looks at me and says, "I am proud of you. Not only to have called you son, but now we are brothers." I don't even think twice I embrace Mario and we just hold onto one another as I say, "I love you papa. I love you very much." Mario replies, "And I you my brother I you."

We break our embrace and I look at Charles and say, "If you need an escort home I'll get you home, but in the mean time I suggest we get going for our own safety. It sounds like the fight is getting a little too close for comfort."

I turn back around to say something to Mario, but he has already disappeared. I say, "I gotta get him to teach me that one."

Just then I hear some shuffling in the nearby dumpster. I raise my hand to Charles and I glance over to the dumpster. I open the lid and my mouth drops open as I see Ellen Westlake laying in there.

I say to her, "What are you doing in there Miss Westlake?"

She replies, "Believe it or not I want to join you all in the revolution."

I say, "Sure you do and I was born yesterday."

Ellen pulls out a transcom link. It's used by the propaganda office to record live events for immediate broadcasts and she says, "Well then Happy Birthday a day late." She plays back our entire conversation. The video is horrid but the audio is perfection. I look at Charles and say, "I think things just got complicated."

We danced.

Heat welled up from the dancers all around me. We moved our bodies to the beat, each of us drops in an unending current of music. Faces blurred. Songs ran into other songs, each more intense than the last. It was exhilarating but relaxing all at the same time. Men and a few women would dare to dance close me and Claudette. Skin on skin, lips on lips, hands caressing. Around us other people were coupling up. It meant nothing. It was the shadow of what any being would craved. It was loving without love. But it was an escape.

”I need another drink,” Claudette said and directed me back to the bar. By this time our seats were already taken and we had to stand by the edge of the dance floor as we sipped on a cool refreshment.

”Hey,” I said, ”I was wondering, do you ever want to have children?”

Claudette looked at me over her third martini, her large fake eyelashes almost hitting the glass rim. ”You feel your biological clock ticking or something? Don’t worry. I’m sure the government will get your partner sorted out soon enough.”

”Claudette, I’m serious. Do you?”

”Sometimes I really don’t understand you, Nym.” she said, half joking, half not. ”I wish Lousia had tagged along tonight. She’s better at dealing with this sort of thing.” The look I gave her made it clear that she wasn’t getting off so easily. ”I mean, why does it matter if I want to have kids or not. You have as many as you have.”

I understood what she meant. We had both sat through reproductive anatomy. Everyone, regardless of their station in life had to take that. Restraint was built with a finite amount of resources, it was a thriving metropolis sealed inside a fish bowl. The population had to be kept in check while still maintaining a degree of genetic diversity. If the government wanted you to have two children, you had two children either by natural or artificial means if necessary. If the government deemed your genes weren’t needed, you weren’t supposed to have children. Sure, accidents happened, but most were dealt with in a hasty factor. More recently, an unplanned child was rare. I’d never understood why until tonight.

”But if you could choose?”

Claudette let out an irritated sigh. ”You know some days, I don’t understand how you managed to score higher than me. We can’t choose so why does it matter? I’ve never really thought about it. And neither should you.” She turned to walk away but I caught her by the arm.

”Are you taking Vitamin 546?”

”No. When I asked my doctor about it for my headaches, he told me it was only for pleabs. I don’t know why. Everyone says it works.”

”Right,” I said and nodded, ”Well I’m going to head out. I’ll call you later.”

Claudette nodded briefly and headed back into the crowd. I didn’t know it but that would be the last time I’d see one of my best friends. Days would go by when my phone calls would go straight to voicemail. A few days later I’d find out Claudette had disappeared. Eventually they’d find her body. At her funeral, I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes off the smug face of her recently widowed husband. This was the city of Restraint. You didn’t get what you wanted. You didn’t want what you got. Some people learned to live with this fact. Others worked to change it.

with some help from



I stand up and say, "I wouldn't go that far Wallace." He just kind of raises an eyebrow at me and say, "What I don't think you want me using your proper title here now do you? What should I call you?"

He nods and says, "Go on for now. Let me hear your story."

I reply, "Well then see as you know..." I look at the young man and say, "you of course may not know that much about me but you're about to learn. Anyway I grew up as part of the privileged class and thought nothing of how my life was going, but then I got a job at the Information Command Center. I was told to make certain highlights fit a certain narrative form. That of being the right of the privileged to reign over the lessers, and I then began to question certain aspects of my job as a propaganda officer. There is so much that I was blind to for so long, and I regret every moment of it. Last night at the party I was hoping to either be kidnapped or killed to escape from there."

I close my eyes and let an exhale out. I open them back up and look at Wallace and say, "The things that I have seen the lies I've had to tell. It's not worth it to see others oppressed and broken. I can't do it any more I want to help. I realize that this will put me into direct conflict with my family and endanger my life, but I am prepared to do that to make a difference for the next generation. Please let me help I can be a valued resource. I have access to information that no one else does I want to help."

Martin studies me for a moment and then just says, "Okay."

I look at him and ask, "Okay what?"

He replies, "Okay. I believe you..." he smirks and says, "Ellen and the name is Martin. I'm somewhat of an expert when it comes to interrogations and reading people. I believe you're sincere. However you have a lot of people to convince besides me. It's going to take a lot more than just a good story to convince the leaders of the revolution that you are sincere. Meet me at my office at 2 pm tomorrow we'll talk."

I nod and say, "Fair enough. Now if you don't mind can one of you help me out of here."

Martin looks at me and says, "One of the things you'll learn in our operation is how to help yourself." He looks at Charles and says, "Good night." He looks back at me and smirks as he walks away.

I roll my eyes and it takes a try or two but I manage to finally get out of the dumpster. I say to Charles, "I'll be sure to stop by the library sometime, I forgot how wonderful it feels to hold a book in my hands and to turn the pages. I actually envy you on many levels concerning your job."

I look around and see that most of the action is dying out and say, "I think it's safe for us to go now." I go over to a manhole cover and remove it. I look to Charles and say, "Would you mind covering this up when I leave? Thank you and hope we get to talk a bit more in depth sometime."

With that I am gone. Now though being in the sewers is a bit of a challenge, but one of the advantages of my device from the office is a GPS. Within minutes I have a route back to my office planned out. If anyone asks I'll just tell them I was covering the story of the raid and that should do it.

I get back into my office and the video i took this evening I put a copy on a separate drive, and erase the one off of my device. After three showers I think I finally got the stench of the dumpster off of me. As I sit in my darkened office I try to think of something I can do to convince the revolution I am on their side, and then it hits me.

I smile and begin going through some of the files and nod as I find what I am looking for,

I’ve always been a fan of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. I found something oddly comforting in the strange absurdities that book presented. I felt less comfortable living them. I through the dark shadows of alleyway Marty - no it felt strange calling him that even in my mind- Prefect Wallace had disappeared into. Then the now shut metal door at the side of the building. Then the open male-hole at my feet.

”Be careful,” I whisper into the darkness even though the girl is now gone. Had she really just appeared like a jack-in-the-box from the dumpster and then vanished into the sewers? Her neat hair and clean nails seemed to state that she did, in fact, care about hygiene, at least occasionally. Not to mention what Wallace had said about being part of the upper class. The entire events of the evening were hard for me to wrap my head around.

I looked around the alley again. The way my fellow colleagues had disappeared into the night left me feeling a bit stranded, like I wasn’t doing my part unless I sprouted wings and zoomed off into the night sky. Sneakers would have to be good enough. I stooped down and slid the manhole cover closed, hoping that, wherever the girl was, she’d be able to get back out easily enough. Suddenly, taking the city’s public transportation back to my apartment wasn’t so bad.

---

I was surprised when I found the door to out apartment wasn’t locked. Nym usually stayed out late most nights, thus increasing our ability to avoid each other. Clearly my roommate wasn’t playing by the rules either. She was curled up on the couch in the middle of the living room. Her knees were tucked up under her chin while her brown hair hung limply to her feet.

”Oh. Hi,” she said when I came in, making it clear I’d startled her from her thoughts. ”I..uh… made some spaghetti. It’s on the kitchen counter.” If her posture hadn’t made it clear enough that something was up, her last statement sealed the deal. Nym never made spaghetti and on the odd chance she did, Nym never bothered to share it with me. I felt obligated to take a plate and since I hadn’t grabbed anything to eat on the way home, was thankful for the impromptu dinner plans.

Since she was facing away from me, it gave me the opportunity to study her figure while I dished out the noodles and meat sauce. The recent activities of the night were buzzing through my head at such a rate I felt my brain would explode if I kept them in any longer. The police raid. The cook with some mysterious book. A high ranking police officer helping out the Rebels. A mysterious (and rather shapely) woman named Ellen Westlake. Her last name thrummed in my head. I was sure I’d heard it somewhere. Prefect Wallace certainly knew who she was.

”Hey, Nym, do you remember…”
”Charles, have you ever heard of…”

Our voices sounded out simultaneously. Then our eyes met and my gut wrenched. Who was I kidding? This woman was a white-collared, high bread worker. She was far smarter, far more connected, and had far more to gain by ratting me out than almost anyone else I knew.

”What were you saying?” I added quickly. Hoping she’d forget I’d also been about to ask her a question.



I looked at Charles Plygard, fork in the ready to scarf down the spaghetti I’d cook. It wasn’t his posture that upset me however, but the expression on his face. It was a mixture of irritation and fear. What had I ever done to him? I had wanted to ask him about Vitamin 546 or Mildred Backer or a number of other topics that I’d been fixating on for the past hour. Instead I claimed I forgot. The minute it was out of my mouth I wish I could have taken it back. Charles’s face grew so guarded.

”Uh… you?”

But he turned and waved me off. ”It’s nothing.”

”It must have been something,” I insisted, trying to make amends for whatever crime I’d committed against him.

”Do you remember reading the book Alice and Wonderland?”

”I’ve never read the book. I don’t think it’s on the regulation reading list for…” But I stopped talking because I had the feeling Charles had stopped listening. I also had the feeling it hadn’t been what he meant to ask me. I turned back around as I heard the sound of a bedroom door close. Suddenly I felt more alone than ever.

I sat in my office and review the files and reports concerning last night's raid. Truly riveting stuff if you're a pencil pushing bureaucrat looking to justify your programs to the unsuspecting doped up public. The raid didn't produce any major arrests, any new information about the revolution, and of course not a single word about what the real purpose was behind the raid. Which was just an exercise in those who are in power just flexing their muscles. I took a sip of my coffee as I continue to look interested in what I am reading, but in the back of my mind I am still trying to figure out what to do about Ellen. She could nail Mario, Charles, and myself at any given moment but she hasn't and she says that she wants to help us. I want to believe her, but the revolution is at a critical juncture at this point and if we trust the wrong person then this whole thing goes into the crapper.

I decided today to enjoy lunch in my office. I didn't want to go to "Rizzo's" today because it just felt too soon after last night. I might go back in a couple of days, but I still need sometime to digest what's happened and not to mention the next time I go I'll feel so sort of obligation. If something major is coming up though my guess Mario delivers my lunch to me with a note in my fries. With my mind wandering around I decided that I've read enough of the reports and just begin signing away blindly. All the while hoping that I didn't just sign an authorization to turn the "Wastelands" into a landfill, because there are some really good people there and where else would I get my cheese-steak fix?

Standing up to stretch my legs I walk around my office trying to figure out how to break the news to Mario that we have someone who wants in our party, and if we don't let them in then the whole thing could go up in smoke. If was any other person I wouldn't be so cautious but Ellen is not only part of the establishment, but she is also the propaganda officer. Meaning she is one of the ones who has to twist a lie into a truth and do it without any thought to her own sense of morality or decency. Again though this leads me back to the root of it all; she hasn't turned any of us in yet. Not to mention I should stop in and see how Charles is doing. Gotta admit based on the outward stuff Charles doesn't look like much, but one thing I've learned again is that you never trust a snap judgement in this kind of situation. You give the person a chance to prove themselves. Being in the revolution is more about having brains than brawn and librarians, good ones, don't grow on trees in this place that's for sure.

Just then I heard a knock at my door. I looked at my watch and see that it's 2 O'Clock when I remember that I am meeting Ellen today. I grabbed my jacket and open the door. I saw Ellen standing there and she was dressed in a comfortable green and white pants suit.

I said, "Ahh good afternoon Miss Westlake. Here to conduct your interview about last night's raid?"

I quickly darted my eyes around hoping she picked up the hint. Ellen nodded politely and replied, "Yes I am Prefect Wallace. Would you care to have it done here in your office?"

I said, "No it's a beautiful day outside let's not waste it."

I closed my door and said, "If you'll come with me I know the perfect place."

We walk about two blocks to the local park and I said, "I know where all the bugs and video cameras are. I'll make sure we avoid those areas as much as possible."



Martin was quiet the whole way over here each time I tried to get him to talk about something he would say something that made no sense. My guess he was being cautious and he had every right to be. After last night's little episode where I taped him and two others he is probably a bit on the shaken side.

He asked me, "So what did you do with the video?"

I replied, "I got it off of my device and onto a separate drive."

Martin nodded and replied, "Look I said last night I believe you, and having had a night to sleep on it. I still do."

I tried not to smile as Martin continued, "However just because I believe you doesn't mean the leadership will believe you. You have many mountains of evidence against you Ellen."

I nodded and asked, "Will this help my case?" I produce a player and on it I begin to play the original unedited version of the raid which cost Mario his son in-law's life. Martin studied the video and when it was over he just nodded. However the look in his eyes tells me this hit him hard.

He said, "That most certainly will not hurt your cause that's for sure. If anyone found out you had that video you'd be executed on the spot. Very daring of you Ellen." Martin nodded again and said, "Meet me at my office tomorrow at 11 am I'm taking you out to lunch to Mario's. Bring both videos with you our interview is over, and I'll recommend you for membership."

Martin turned and walked away at a brisk pace so that I couldn't keep up with him. He then stopped for a moment and looked back at me. I smiled at him and he gave a polite head bow as he continued on his way. I just hope I know what I'm getting into.