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It was raining hard, the droplets bouncing an inch above the concrete steps. Rice gripped the riot shield closer to him and looked out through the plas-steel window onto the madness broiling below. Half-starved wretches threw bottles and rubbish at the shield wall. Their shouting was like some angry animal baying for blood, his blood.
There was a constant buzz of voices over the comm channel relaying orders. The police couldn’t afford plug-in communication; it could hardly afford the men to stop the escalating number of food riots. A rock bounced off his helmet, thrown from one of the roofs across the street. He cursed as his head began to pound and the comm line went dead. He shouted to the sergeant over his shoulder - a tall weaselly man called Sneet or Snot or something.
The wall moved forward, taking Rice completely by surprise and pulling him off his feet. The wall broke and the rioters, seeing an opening, surged towards it, screams echoing down the street. The police opened fire.
"They’re calling it a ‘triumph of justice’, can you believe that? Those fucking cops kill over two hundred unarmed women and children and they get medals for it?"
"Be calm, Benjamin. I am sure that Mr Dalyn-Steward will have a good explanation and a better handle on the facts than whatever paper you are currently avoiding the nude females in."
"I’m sure he does, but what makes you think he’ll tell us? Not that we ever get to meet him anyway."
"Benjamin, Mr Dalyn-Steward is the chairman of a multi-trillion dollar company he does not meet people like us. As for his honesty, I trust him not a bit, nor his people, but we need him and we do have the disk if he betrays us before we are ready to betray him."
"Yeah whatever."
Sergeant Sant waited nervously outside the mayor's office, folding and refolding that morning's paper, a real one he had got from a street vendor. He could have got one online for free, but he was stalling all the way here. The familiar yell of Captain Jacobs bade him enter as the aide opened the door. He was escorted into a small cramped office with city maps on the walls and filing cabinets stuffed to overflowing.
The familiar bulk of the captain sat rigidly upright in a stiff, city council chair, a second was vacant next to it. The mayor sat with an aide behind a steel desk that was covered in reports and letters.
The man who sat behind it was middle-aged and had the look of a politician. Very calm grey eyes, contrasting with jet black skin and hair, made him appear to be drugged or dead - apart from the life with which his fingers played with pen or paper or computer. His aide was ordinary-looking with a cheap suit similar to Sants’ and wavy hair.
The mayor smiled at Sant as he walked in and Jacobs was already staring at him as though he could explode by force of will.
"Sergeant Sant. Won’t you come in? This is my associate, Benjamin Stark. He will be leading the investigation into the ‘triumph of justice’ that occurred yesterday. I trust he will have your fullest co-operation..."
Dave Watson, 09/10/00
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