TITLE: Mourn the Sun
GENRE: Adult Sci-fi
I was barely eight years old when they came for me.
The knock on the door went on for quite some time before I realized that whoever it was actually intended to wait for us to open it. When I did, I found in the hallway the strangest sight I'd ever seen.
The sight of a man in uniform actually inside our building, on purpose, was a shock. This was a uniform I'd never seen before. All dark, serious colors and little ornamentation, the fabric looked heavy, whole, and clean. Never-been-worn clean, not simply what you call clean because you just washed it and that's as good as it's going to get anymore. Another man hovered behind him.
For all he looked so important, he was fidgety, his eyes darting up and down the hallway. I swear he was scared someone was about to jump him. A patsy. Easy pickings.
Still, you couldn't trust anyone in uniform.
I offered no greeting. We weren't big on formalities in Abenez, the most notorious neighborhood in the slum that was Mexico City. To my mind the "what do you want" was implied in the opening of the door. So we stood there for quite a space of time, staring at each other, his nose wrinkling in slow, measured increments.
In his defense, it probably did stink; there was already a group of spectators forming behind him and I'm sure at least one person there wasn't washed, probably several.