The Trial

Chapter 31 - Edited

There's a new face in my office, and she isn't one of mine. She's been standing there waiting for several minutes as I carry on with my work. Whoever she is doesn't matter, since there are proper channels for this sort of thing. The Controller or Propagandist should've sent some message ahead of time, but I've received nothing about this.

I send the last message, and turn towards her as she moves pensively in the doorway. Her brown eyes avoid my gaze as she looks down, and her black hair shows a great deal of white. This isn't a sign of age, but a severe case of dandruff from the tangled hair that hasn't been washed in a very long time.

A little of her scent hits me, and won't have that stench come any closer. Whoever she works for should never have sent this one to my office, since they know my tolerance for a lack of cleanliness is something that doesn't exist in my house. She must have some sway, since she managed to get this close and I'll have her come no closer.

Keep your bearings, and know you're being watched right now. However you react will be reported, and she can't be allowed to suspect anything. Just remember, you've smelled far worse than this sorry excuse in your door, and showed no sign of weakness.

Her face has the complexion of spending days working under the sun, but shows no sign of early aging that comes with those jobs. This could be her natural complexion, or it could be some layer of filth hiding the way she truly looks. Her nervous state's growing as she starts to hop a little from one foot to the other, which cause white to fall onto her black robe to add to the growing collection of things I have no interest in identifying.

You're doing well. Don't stare too long, and don't invite her in. She needs to know her place here, but can't suspect who the others are. If she even thinks anti-revolutionaries are here, everyone dies.

It's only due to the growing stench that I speak at all with a sharp voice. "What?"

She jumps a little at my question, and her eyes meet mine as she speaks with a voice more fitting for a mouse than woman. "I'm state driver fifty-three, Keeper of Forbidden Records."

I catch glimpses of yellow as she speaks, and glad she didn't open her mouth any wider. "I did not ask who you were. What do you want?"

She's starting to tremble a little, and clearly doesn't want to be here. I wonder what she fears. Is it my secret police, or the possibility of taking her outside, and having her hosed down? Neither really matters, since I don't have time to properly deal with her.

That's the right attitude to take. Keep her afraid of you, and you won't make any mistakes. You just need to prod her a little further.

Her voice gets a little worse as the pitch changes to something akin to metal scraping against metal. "The Controller of the State sent me here, Keeper of Forbidden Records."