The Inquisitor

Dust fell as the clock creaked its steady symphony. Tick… tock… Round and round the hands went playing their roles for an audience that had long since departed. No encore would be played when the performance ends. Each tick rattles the frame imperceptibly causing the wood to shudder and creak. Each creak shouts to the world "I am alive" but the world isn't listening. Instead the only purpose of this once proud device is to wind down its life and to harbour within its workings a locket.

Cracked glass and scratched silver, heart shaped and heavy chain. The locket sat above the cogs dangling lugubriously into the void.

"You! Wait, please stop!

"Where is it?"

"What?"

"The locket."

"I was never given one."

"That's a lie. All citizens were given one after the great collapse. You were designated to be a medic so you were given the locket and a chip."

"Scan me, " John held out his hands for the inquisitor to examine. "There's nothing there!" His arms started to shake but the officious woman didn't seem to notice.

Reaching into her pocket the inquisitor pulled out a device no bigger than a playing card and rubbed it over the back of John's hand. "If this turns black you know what that means don't you?"

"Ye-"

"Twenty years in the wastes for abandoning duty, ten for lying to a representative of the High Imperium, and five hundred lashes for thinking you could get away with it."

John stood and thought hard about what he had just been told. He could run, there were other camps set up. He could be free from the draconic government that now clutched the remains of England. He could attack her, steal her uniform. But he stood there frozen and just nodded solemnly.

Tick… tock…

Dust broke free yet again. Each minor wind causing a microscopic maelstrom. And the wood moved. And the locket moved.

"It's red. I suppose you were telling the truth but you'll have to come with me to be assigned a role."

"Why?"

"Because if you have no role, then others have no role. No medics mean no one to heal the miners. No miners means no ore and no ore means no bargaining power for the Imperium."

"Who are they bargaining with? There's no one left."

"Don't question them." The words hung heavy in the air. Everyone knew that the ordinances were beyond question. Everyone knew that questions were punishable. Everyone knew that the punished were alive but only just.

"OK, I'm sorry." John felt faint. He hadn't eaten much in the last three days and his heart felt like it was going to explode.

The inquisitor adjusted the strap of her helmet and brushed some debris of her lapel which held a badge. The badge was adorned with a bear embossed with an H and an I and a serial number reading FEMJB93 . "There is one question that I am going to ask you and you need to answer honestly. Where did that new scar on your hand come from?"

John looked at his hand. On his palm between his fore and middle fingers lay a scar not bigger than an inch.

"Where did the cut come from John?"

Tick… tock…

Another dust cloud, another rattle. The locket shifted slightly towards oblivion.

"I… I did it on a p-piece of metal"

"Which piece of metal, John?"

"I d-don't remember . M-maybe on Pinfold Lane." John hadn't stuttered since he was a child. He hadn't stuttered since he saw tower blocks collapse, cars explode, their drivers dead at the wheel and burnout en masse. He was stuttering now.

The inquisitor removed her glasses showing the scarred tissue and hollow sockets that all servants of the new leadership were required to have. Your eyes are removed and replaced with a camera fixed to the side of your head. When you decided to serve the corporation's whims you became an asset, no longer a human being with your own thoughts and agency. The only agency you served now was the corporation. And the only corporation left was the imperium.

Tick… tock…

Ever closer the locket shook, ever more wildy the chain swung. With each swing of the chain the locket moved just a little further.

"Pinfold Lane is off limits." There were no eyes to stare but the black of the hollows pierced John in a way that no eye ever could. "Explain."

"I g-got lost. I got out of there as s-soon as I could."

"What did you see?"

"Nothing, I swear!"

The Inquisitor reached to her side and pulled a pair of brass knuckles off her belt and lazily inserted her fingers through the hole relishing the glee she was about to experience.

"Please n-"

The sound of metal on flesh filled the room and was followed by a scream.

"What did you see?"

"Nothing! I saw nothing!"

Again a sound, wetter this time followed by another harrowing cry followed by a thud.

"Tell me what you saw." The inquisitor was calm; Almost bureaucratic in their abuse they methodically found the spots that would cause the greatest pain.

"Please stop! I did see something!" John panted and sighed heavily. Blood ran down his face covering the totality of his once pale skin.

The inquisitor paused. "Tell me."

"I know what caused the collapse…" he turned and spat to the side. A pool of blood containing teeth and portions of cheek tissue formed on the floor with a sickening splat. "I know it was the imperium."

"I see," she said, smiling deviously. "I'm surprised you didn't just say. Something as trivial as that."

"Trivial?" he couldn't believe his ears. How was this, how could this be considered trivial?

"Oh yes, you will be punished but you will not be put to death, nor will you be sent to the wastes."

The inquisitor pulled an instrument that was midway between a spoon and a scalpel from a pouch on her arm. With one final blow of her fist John Brown was knocked unconscious.

As she knelt down and got to work she gently spoke "welcome to the ranks recruit, I hope you'll like being an inquisitor." John Brown was now an asset.

Tick… tock. One final shudder as the clock breathed its last and the locket fell crashing down into the cavity. The inquisitor opened the door and reached inside.

The locket harboured a photo. A man and a woman. The woman was familiar; blonde hair, hazel eyes and a wry smile. The man was currently lying bleeding on the floor. The caption simply read "Mr. and Mrs. John Brown. 2093"