black fabric that is the Enforcers. E-Men. The Darkness. Doesn’t matter what you call them. I’ve never seen them in the daylight. The office goes dim as their presence sucks all the light out of the room and I’m shoved back inside. Spinning around my hip catches the corner of the desk and I fall to the floor amid papers and panic. Not a word. Not a grunt or an accusation. A blur of tightly coiled muscles lurks under denim and canvas. The uniform is one with their flesh, not an inch of it exposed, hidden under black studded gloves and spiked helmets. There are no badge numbers, no introductions but to pain. They are the same size. Big. Linebackers that move like ballet dancers, a blur of motion, efficient and precise. They know what they want and they have no time for emotion or hesitation.
The one closest to me grabs me by the shirt collar and pulls my face up to meet his flying fist. In rapid fire succession I am pummeled into a daze, blood splattering in all directions, limp defenseless hands dangling by my sides. I’ve gone from cocky shop owner to a bag of flesh in the time it took the second one to kick in the closet door. The cheap wood splinters and is ripped off the hinges, clattering to the corner, a fraction of its former self. He reaches into the closet and pulls out the telescope. Holding it up they both pause for a moment as I whimper in my hazy recline, fading as they finish.
You can almost see the grins behind their visors, the subtle glowing where eyes would have been. And as quickly as that, he snaps it over his knee, shattering the glass lens, breaking it in two. He pulls a knapsack out of his pocket, unfolding it in a flurry, snapping it open. He throws the pieces into the bag, and then reaches back inside for the stand. He bends the metal frame in half, and half again, as if it is a paper clip.
The whole time his partner is watching, enjoying the show no doubt, as a pool of blood collects beneath me, my face torn open, lips split in two. His clenched fist is the only thing keeping me up. After glancing back at me, he simply releases the cloth, letting me crumple to the ground. My head smacks the wood with a hollow thud. The room fades and I pray they will leave me now, to suffer in the silence and anguish of a man busted in his private addiction, his deviant joy. Just like that they are gone, the room quiet, not a sound to be heard. A wheezing drifts to my ears, fighting the buzzing in my head, a humming all around. It is my own labored breath and I don’t recognize it. Downstairs a gentle jingle as the exit the shop.
2. MARCY
//
ID: MarcyDescartes
MEMBER: #298631
PASSWORD: Fellatio
DIARY ENTRY: 2148 - 05122024:1251
begin transmission
REPORT:
The mail room continues to function on a
rudimentary level. Luckily we have a handful
of talented artists that can pull off most
any con. Under my watchful eye the synthesis
of old behavior and current state of the
“world” is flawless. Herbal issues are still
prevalent, but what can you do. Lock them
up? HAHAHAHAHA. Sorry, LOL’d there. Village
behavior has been moderate. The usual
drunken escapades, and revolving door
whores, but that’s nothing new. Thank god
they’re all sterile, or we really might have
some population issues. HA. New “citizen”
arrived today. Checked him out, and he seems
fairly worthless, but that’s the quality of
the stock you get today. When I left he was
being retro-fitted, but you know those
monkeys down at water’s edge, he’ll be lucky
to have functioning limbs when they’re done
with him. Crops are on schedule, and as long
as there is no more water loss, we should
meet or exceed expectations. Corn especially
looks good, which is fantastic news, since
its multifunctionality is so essential to
every aspect of life here - food, fuel, etc.
The hemp is also coming along nicely. Why
they continue to smoke the male plants, I
don’t know. Idiots. They might as well smoke
banana leaves.