The streets had become nearly deserted, causing Bunnu to wonder where all the people who had crowded the area, earlier, could have gone. Surely, they can’t have gone to sleep at such an early hour. And, even if they were, where were they sleeping? A great many of them had been of a lower social class and surely couldn’t afford a flat in any of the buildings. He thought about this as they passed rows of makeshift houses of cardboard and tarpaulin, from which hung clotheslines. Now and again, from inside these houses, dim lights glimmered, but for the most part, they were dark and seemingly devoid of life. Nothing to hear. Nothing to see.
Where had everyone gone?
And yet, he couldn’t seem to get the feeling that he was absolutely alone. Somehow, he felt that there were people all around him in great numbers, as there had been in the streets earlier in the day, but now they were hidden in dark corners. Squatting in shadows. Watching surreptitiously with their backs lined against the wall along dark, narrow alleyways, which were themselves long, curving and intersecting passageways to deep, forgotten Quarters of the city, now overrun by militant resistance groups who rarely emerged upon the main avenues for fear that their interaction with everyday people may prove to befoul the sanctity of their core beliefs—which is to say that they preferred to remain insulated in their collective anger, by the numerous walls, the labyrinth of alleyways and dead end roads that separated them from the surrounding reality.
Here on—what one could only assume to be—the main avenue, dim street lamps lined each side of the street, seeming really to serve no purpose as no one was here. A pack of stray dogs rummaged through a pile of trash, occasionally fighting fiercely for ownership of the more worthwhile scraps.
The lights: they may well have been for the benefit of the dogs.
The garbanzo beans had stopped falling, leaving very little in the way of precipitation upon the streets. Nonetheless, it was nearly impossible to avoid squashing the beans underfoot as the four men made their way back to the police station. Bunnu and Ottoman walked together in front, as they had earlier, while Ottoman’s men followed behind. Throughout the Dowa Districts, the four of them had remained silent, but as they crossed over back into the Protozoan Quarter, one of Ottoman’s men exclaimed joyfully to the other, “Never thought we’d get out of there. Eh, mate?”
“Intolerable. That smell!” the other responded with a guffaw. “Oy, you manage to get on that bird the other night. The Druggist’s daughter?”
“The retarded girl? She put me off a bit, mate. Don’t know if I-“
“But they’re the most fun! The retards! Me uncle adopted himself one. Lives a bit out in the countryside. So, whenever he wants a bit of action, he gets out his ol’ Stanley and tells the girl it’s a lolly. A proper caution, he is!” They both laughed raucously.
“Tell you what, though, some of these Untouchable kids can be pretty tasty, yeah? Don’t put up much of fight either. In fact, they kind of crave the social contact. Especially the young ones. They haven’t become embittered in their isolation, just yet.”
“You don’t touch the little shit piles, do you?”
“Oh, what? So, you draw the line there? Well pardon me, Mr. High-and-Mighty!”
“No offense meant there, mate. But there are certainly other worthwhile conquests to be had. No shortage of ‘suspects’ who are willing to do what is necessary to avert suspicion…”
“Been dipping into the till, have we?” he said, and then laughed at his own choice of words.
“Amazing how much of a panic you can get people into by implying they was complicit in the commission of some misdemeanor or the other. I think people, in general—'specially the wealthy types—don’t fancy having a black mark on their record. That black mark, after all, extends beyond them. To their families, to their friends, and associates. The law can be pretty unforgiving, after all. So, I gives them an alternative, I do. I look the other way if they pay a price. Of course, it'd be downright immoral to accept money or gifts. So, anything they can do for me on the spot to show their appreciation would be-”
“Thus, you take the matter into your own hands.”
“And shouldn’t we all, instead of leaving the fate of men in the hands of so very few? What I offer is an alternative solution. It’s their choice whether they decide to pursue it or not. And if they opt out, well…they’ll be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”
“So, you’re getting some from some higher class birds, then?”
“Well, the influence of the law only extends so far, so I have t' be careful. I am within legal means, though…so long as I do not extend the authority of the law beyond its ability to insulate the elite.”
“Naturally.”
Ottoman, through all of this, had remained quiet, as though bored by the conversation. Finally, he turned to Bunnu and asked in a seemingly casual manner, “What do you suppose he was on about with all that talk of smells?”
Bunnu sighed, but said nothing.
Approaching the Station