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The Inspector stood at his window, gazed out over the City, the Inner Zones advancing before being blocked by the wall, on the other side of which stood the world he was trying to rescue. A world which seemed to be slipping from his control, slipping from all control. He saw the faces of the men and women he had met, scared, cold. Others defiant. Others happy. It was a world he loved and feared, a world he wished to save.
He would persevere. He would continue no matter how bleak the world seemed. If even one person were rescued from despair by his actions, he would have done his job and done it well. Part of him said this was noble. Another part told him he simply couldn't think of anything else.
He sipped his drink, thought over the day. His plans had collapsed beyond hope of repair. He had aimed to serve both the Elect and his people, and had helped neither. On his desk stood piles upon piles of reports, complaints, footage, interrogations, personal files. All of it suddenly meaningless, so much dead weight. He could feel control slipping away, yet could not plot its course, see into the gloom and track its destination.
“Please allow me to introduce myself,” came the voice, making the Inspector jump.
The Inspector turned around, indignant. “What is the meaning of....” The words caught in his throat. Before him stood a man dressed in black from head to toe, his face covered, his eyes tiny slits pointing out of the shadows. “It's you.”
The man gestured. “My name is Elijah. We must talk.”
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The Doorway
