The Parables

Blake - Precinct Three

Blake - Precinct Three

Climbing out of the taxi, I close the door gently and turn around to face the Concordiam. It's a large building the colour of smoke, looming over the city, dominating the attention of tourists, including myself. This morning, it's camouflaged against the backdrop of a silvery sky peppered with ivory clouds and faint streaks of sunlight. Frost spikes the air, casting a chill upon the early risers. Traffic is minimal and the raucous sounds it generates are strangely subdued. Maybe eight o'clock isn't the ideal time to awake for the people living here.

Joining my Tutors on the pavement, we enter the Concordiam through a pair of sliding glass doors and head straight to the lift. Nobody is about, save the young girl sat behind the reception desk, so we're either really early or extremely late; I'm hoping, praying, it's not the latter. Stepping inside the lift, I grab hold of the handlebar and the doors close.

"Looking forward to it?"

I glance up to see Mitella smiling at me. "I guess."

"You'll enjoy it, trust me."

"Trust is very hard to come across these days."

"Is that so?" Mitella raises an eyebrow.

"I trusted our Precinct to choose a name from the top of the pile. We all did." I look away, sighing. "It shouldn't have been me."

"We know it shouldn't, Blake. All of us do. But it's our weaknesses that make us stronger. We strive to correct our imperfections no matter how impossible they may seem. You may not want to be here, but you will do whatever it takes to get yourself out."

A smile plays at my lips. "Good motto."

"It's not just a motto, Blake. It's a way of life."

At that moment, the vibrations from the moving lift cease and the doors open in succession. Stepping out of the lift, I am confronted by the view of several glass chambers neatly pressed together into this drab, brick building. There are seventeen of them arranged in a four-by-five rectangle, with the central chamber being double the length of one and the two chambers in opposite corners allowing a passageway through to an indoor track that loops around them. Inside the chambers are various pieces of equipment scattered around, ranging from ropes and sticks to weapons such as knives and spears. Sandwiched between either side of the long-distance running track and the opposing walls are two longer chambers, extending from one end of the room to the other. One contains a short-distance track and the other, an obstacle course. Most of the chambers are completely deserted, but in the central chamber, a crowd of Tutors and Martyrs have amassed. Glancing over my shoulder at Mitella, she peers at her watch and gives me a sheepish smile.

"I guess we're a minute or two behind."

We hurry towards the central chamber and quickly slip in behind everyone else. Silence chokes the air. No parting of lips, no quiet utterings of words, not even a cough or a clearing of the throat. Everyone is mute. Then moments later, he arrives.

Stalking into the chamber, bold as brass with a rapacious look in his cold, charcoal eyes, a burly figure dawns upon us. His movements are like a predator, each step trodden cautiously, awaiting the moment to pounce upon his unsuspecting victims. In hot pursuit of this sinister being are two sentries, watching us with a cautionary glint in their eyes, rifles at the ready. Whether it's because of nerves, fear or pure instinct, I do not know, but I step closer to my Tutors the second the man stops walking and turns to face us. His presence disrupts the serenity of the chamber. Bad vibes radiate off him like tendrils of smoke billowing from a fire and a sudden drop in the temperature epitomises his outer persona.