Havaj had never been caught before in his life. After years of delinquency and countless close calls, he had started to think that he was invincible. One staring contest with a standard-issue Obsidian City Law Enforcement Rifle was all it took to bring that delusion crashing down.
Time slowed to a crawl in Havaj's mind, and the air became syrup. He thought about the possible courses of action. If he stepped down peacefully, he would obviously be punished. What would his punishment be like? The ghetto kids' colorful stories about the horrendous conditions in Obsidian's prison flickered across his mind. The only other option was escape. Escape? Havaj thought. No, that would be suicide! He became dimly aware of Symon, who, standing next to him, was likely pondering the same things.
"Step down onto the street!" The officer barked. Suddenly, Havaj noticed something about Symon. He looked tense; his muscles were rigid. Like a cornered rabbit about to run. Instinctively, Havaj grabbed Symon's arm to stop him from moving. The look Symon gave him was defiant, accusing. "Come on. Let's go down," Havaj said, dragging his friend along.
~~
Slinging the OCLER back over his shoulder, the officer browsed the two boys' backpacks. Finding nothing but a few cans of spray paint, he tossed the packs back to them. "Your names, please?" He asked, directing his gaze at Havaj first. Hesitantly, Havaj stepped forward. The officer roughly grabbed Havaj's collar and pulled down his shirt to reveal a port sticking out of the base of his neck. Tattooed on the bottom edge of the port in black ink was his name, Havaj Hesconnu. After jotting down the name on an electronic tablet, he did the same to Symon. He tapped a few more times on his tablet, then consulted the screen. "This appears to be your first infarction on record, for both of you," he said. "I hope you realize that vandalism is a serious issue in Obsidian City." He cleared his throat, then fixed a stern gaze at them. "Because you two are minors, I'm letting you off with a warning. If you ever do this again, the consequences will be more severe. You'll be facing fines up to..."
The officer's voice seemed distant. Havaj's gaze drifted to the man's left hand, where a white signet ring adorned his index finger. This ring was the symbol of Obsidian authority, worn by all members of government and law enforcement. The streetlight cast an eerie blue hue on the ring. As the officer finished speaking, Havaj realized that he hadn't really been paying attention. All he could think of was that one word: Warning. The rest of the night was like an unsettling somnambulation. On the way back to the Maze District, Havaj said very little as he tried to make sense of what happened. Only a warning? What is a warning?
They arrived at a three-story apartment building, inconspicuous as any in the district. Stepping through the door, Havaj glanced at the clock on the nearest wall. 12:30 am. Warning. A sudden weariness struck him. As he and Symon walked past the welcome room he glanced at the portrait hanging on the wall opposite the clock. The man depicted was perfectly coiffed and dressed, his square jaw framing a stridently confident smile. This was President Darius Mastellan, and his face seemed to say, "Trust me. Everything is going to be all right." I was let off with a warning.
Havaj and Symon entered the shabby apartment they shared. The room contained three mattresses, with the third already occupied by Mikane, Havaj's older brother. The two boys mumbled something along the lines of "good night", and sleep came quickly.
"Step down onto the street!" The officer barked. Suddenly, Havaj noticed something about Symon. He looked tense; his muscles were rigid. Like a cornered rabbit about to run. Instinctively, Havaj grabbed Symon's arm to stop him from moving. The look Symon gave him was defiant, accusing. "Come on. Let's go down," Havaj said, dragging his friend along.
~~
Slinging the OCLER back over his shoulder, the officer browsed the two boys' backpacks. Finding nothing but a few cans of spray paint, he tossed the packs back to them. "Your names, please?" He asked, directing his gaze at Havaj first. Hesitantly, Havaj stepped forward. The officer roughly grabbed Havaj's collar and pulled down his shirt to reveal a port sticking out of the base of his neck. Tattooed on the bottom edge of the port in black ink was his name, Havaj Hesconnu. After jotting down the name on an electronic tablet, he did the same to Symon. He tapped a few more times on his tablet, then consulted the screen. "This appears to be your first infarction on record, for both of you," he said. "I hope you realize that vandalism is a serious issue in Obsidian City." He cleared his throat, then fixed a stern gaze at them. "Because you two are minors, I'm letting you off with a warning. If you ever do this again, the consequences will be more severe. You'll be facing fines up to..."
The officer's voice seemed distant. Havaj's gaze drifted to the man's left hand, where a white signet ring adorned his index finger. This ring was the symbol of Obsidian authority, worn by all members of government and law enforcement. The streetlight cast an eerie blue hue on the ring. As the officer finished speaking, Havaj realized that he hadn't really been paying attention. All he could think of was that one word: Warning. The rest of the night was like an unsettling somnambulation. On the way back to the Maze District, Havaj said very little as he tried to make sense of what happened. Only a warning? What is a warning?
They arrived at a three-story apartment building, inconspicuous as any in the district. Stepping through the door, Havaj glanced at the clock on the nearest wall. 12:30 am. Warning. A sudden weariness struck him. As he and Symon walked past the welcome room he glanced at the portrait hanging on the wall opposite the clock. The man depicted was perfectly coiffed and dressed, his square jaw framing a stridently confident smile. This was President Darius Mastellan, and his face seemed to say, "Trust me. Everything is going to be all right." I was let off with a warning.
Havaj and Symon entered the shabby apartment they shared. The room contained three mattresses, with the third already occupied by Mikane, Havaj's older brother. The two boys mumbled something along the lines of "good night", and sleep came quickly.
