MemoryTale
Good with a stick
Several people have seen this opening now, and everyone's had wildly different opinions, especially regarding its suitability as an opening - so I thought I'd stick it on here in the hope of actually getting some sort of consensus.
*********
Derek Lambert of the Southside police leafed through his notes one last time. In truth he didn’t need to reread them, but it gave him something to do. He checked his watch. Five minutes to go.
‘Nervous?’
He glanced to the side. The woman next to him gave a small smile.
‘A little,’ he confessed.
‘I never thought I’d see the day when an Inspector was nervous about talking to schoolchildren.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘I’m not nervous about that. I just hate lying about how safe Southside is these days.’
She made a puzzled frown. ‘Isn’t it? The gangs aren’t fighting on the streets anymore.’
‘Only because The Firm won, more or less. The Northern Front are still kicking around.’ He sighed. ‘And that’s without the serial killer running around.’
‘One person in a city of millions.’ She smiled again. ‘I think you’re doing a good job.’
‘Oh, so you’re the one.’ He flexed his left shoulder and cracked it.
She winced. ‘That sounded nasty.’
‘Sorry, I gotta do that from time to time. Old injury. Rachel wasn’t it?’
She nodded.
‘What do you remember of Southside back when the Firm took over? That was ten years ago, you’d have been… Twelve? Thirteen?’
‘Fifteen… And I don’t. I used to live in Hallestown, before it got hit by the Light.’
He winced. He should have been more careful with his words. Light survivors weren’t that uncommon. ‘Sorry to hear that.’
She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, facing the far wall. ‘Don’t be. I survived. Plenty didn’t.’
He gave up trying to make conversation. He didn’t know how to vocalise his thoughts anyway, that the current peace wasn’t due to anything the police had accomplished. It was because they had survived being on the losing team.
He flexed his shoulder again and starting thinking about centimetres as the children started being lead in by their teachers. If the bullet that had earned him a desk job had been a centimetre lower, it would have only given him a flesh wound. Maybe even now he’d be on the serial killer case. He would still mean something. Of course if it had been a centimetre higher, he’d have lost the use of his arm. Funny things, centimetres, he mused.
As the children sat the room quickly filled with whispered conversations and excited gossip on such important subjects as what programs they had watched and who fancied whom. Lambert tried to recall when he had last been so carefree.
Poor kids, he thought. They have no idea what’s coming.
He glanced up as Rachel Turner stood up to the podium.
‘I’d just like to say a few words before Inspector. Lambert speaks to you all.’
She briefly outlined the purpose of his visit, then went on to her own propaganda speech, telling the children about a book club she was starting up. Watching her depressed him. At twenty-five, she was the youngest head teacher he’d ever met. In his youth it would have been an inspiration. Now it only highlighted the fact he was coasting to retirement. Then it was his turn to speak.
‘Hello children. I’m Derek Lambert. I’m an Inspector in the Southside Police.’ Brilliant start, he thought. He coughed and shuffled his notes. ‘I’m here to tell you about some of the dangers of life in Southside, what we can do to keep you safe and how you can help us.’
He tried to avoid looking at the kid’s faces. The expressions on the ones he could see seemed to say ‘You’re not telling us anything we didn’t figure out for ourselves. You’re wasting our time.’ Those were the six year olds. He could only imagine how the older children must be looking.
*********
Derek Lambert of the Southside police leafed through his notes one last time. In truth he didn’t need to reread them, but it gave him something to do. He checked his watch. Five minutes to go.
‘Nervous?’
He glanced to the side. The woman next to him gave a small smile.
‘A little,’ he confessed.
‘I never thought I’d see the day when an Inspector was nervous about talking to schoolchildren.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘I’m not nervous about that. I just hate lying about how safe Southside is these days.’
She made a puzzled frown. ‘Isn’t it? The gangs aren’t fighting on the streets anymore.’
‘Only because The Firm won, more or less. The Northern Front are still kicking around.’ He sighed. ‘And that’s without the serial killer running around.’
‘One person in a city of millions.’ She smiled again. ‘I think you’re doing a good job.’
‘Oh, so you’re the one.’ He flexed his left shoulder and cracked it.
She winced. ‘That sounded nasty.’
‘Sorry, I gotta do that from time to time. Old injury. Rachel wasn’t it?’
She nodded.
‘What do you remember of Southside back when the Firm took over? That was ten years ago, you’d have been… Twelve? Thirteen?’
‘Fifteen… And I don’t. I used to live in Hallestown, before it got hit by the Light.’
He winced. He should have been more careful with his words. Light survivors weren’t that uncommon. ‘Sorry to hear that.’
She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, facing the far wall. ‘Don’t be. I survived. Plenty didn’t.’
He gave up trying to make conversation. He didn’t know how to vocalise his thoughts anyway, that the current peace wasn’t due to anything the police had accomplished. It was because they had survived being on the losing team.
He flexed his shoulder again and starting thinking about centimetres as the children started being lead in by their teachers. If the bullet that had earned him a desk job had been a centimetre lower, it would have only given him a flesh wound. Maybe even now he’d be on the serial killer case. He would still mean something. Of course if it had been a centimetre higher, he’d have lost the use of his arm. Funny things, centimetres, he mused.
As the children sat the room quickly filled with whispered conversations and excited gossip on such important subjects as what programs they had watched and who fancied whom. Lambert tried to recall when he had last been so carefree.
Poor kids, he thought. They have no idea what’s coming.
He glanced up as Rachel Turner stood up to the podium.
‘I’d just like to say a few words before Inspector. Lambert speaks to you all.’
She briefly outlined the purpose of his visit, then went on to her own propaganda speech, telling the children about a book club she was starting up. Watching her depressed him. At twenty-five, she was the youngest head teacher he’d ever met. In his youth it would have been an inspiration. Now it only highlighted the fact he was coasting to retirement. Then it was his turn to speak.
‘Hello children. I’m Derek Lambert. I’m an Inspector in the Southside Police.’ Brilliant start, he thought. He coughed and shuffled his notes. ‘I’m here to tell you about some of the dangers of life in Southside, what we can do to keep you safe and how you can help us.’
He tried to avoid looking at the kid’s faces. The expressions on the ones he could see seemed to say ‘You’re not telling us anything we didn’t figure out for ourselves. You’re wasting our time.’ Those were the six year olds. He could only imagine how the older children must be looking.
