Sunday, 15 June 2014

Going Nowhere

Like the elves that were said to help shoemakers with their workload in the dead of night, so too the cleaner works in darkness; shrouded in mystery and all but invisible.
   Not that Norman wanted to be known, or even thanked. All the thanks he needed was the weekly deposit into his bank account that allowed him to pay his rent. He was grateful to even have a job, especially after the Civil War. Jobs were few and far between, and were growing yet more scarce. After the Armistice, unemployment rates had soared in what had once been the north of the British Isles, so to have any job at all - even one as menial as cleaning the offices of the Hegemony - was a victory for anyone.
   Norman was listening to an audiobook on his battered, old mp3 player. It had been a gift for his fourteenth birthday, and whilst it was tremendously outdated these days, he had never been able to afford another. He browsed the Northnet every few weeks to try to find an audiobook for free on a subject that interested him. Some were definitely illegal, though others had slipped through the nets of the Censors.
   He had learned about subjects ranging from particle physics to foreign politics, and from time to time managed to get his hands upon a copy of a history book. History was his favourite; most history books had been banned or burned to make way for the "true history" which the Hegemony was distributing amongst its denizens.
   Norman made his way methodically towards the final office in his route. Most of the offices required little cleaning beyond a swift vacuum and a wipe of any dusty surfaces. From time to time there would be half a cup of cold tea left upon a desk, but by and large it was an easy job. The late hours were somewhat prohibitive, but then he didn't have any money to spend on social outgoings.
   As he rounded the corner, he was greeted by a rare sight; a light still on in an office. This was peculiar; the office lights were all turned off at six o'clock, and the only person who could turn them on again before morning was him. Wondering if it was some kind of malfunction, Norman skipped the next three empty rooms and made his way directly towards the harsh yellow light.
   He approached closer to the door and saw shadows moving. Voices mingled with the poor quality of the book being read through his earphones, and the words of both recording and human became blurred and indistinct. Removing the buds from his ears, the voices from the office became clear.
   They were speaking Scots - the language reserved for the elite of the fledgling nation. Norman did not speak the language, but he could tell that the voices belonged to two men. If these men were talking the language of the rulers of the country, Norman did not want to interrupt them.
   He busied himself returning to the other rooms he had missed, and once he had finished he made his way towards the exit.

-*--*--*-

This one ran away with me a little. Lots of things I meant to circle back to but never really managed to do within the time I left myself. I'll just leave it as an exercise in world-building.