Jafia smiled as she approached her apartment building, pleased with how well her encounter with Rocke and his cohorts had gone. The hour was late, the sun touching the far reaches of the horizon. Red light spilled through the crystal streetlights, a dazzling array of color illuminating the late night streets.
While not as lavish as Rocke's old building—it didn't have a freaking shopping center and water park under it—her place was nicer than most buildings in her home country of Vladus.
Since their last war, her country had fallen into disrepair, while the UOP had gotten fatter and richer. Jafia had experienced those hard times in an orphanage, watching as Vanderfall struggled to regain its footing. The UOP had forced harsh repercussions on her country, even though they'd started the war. These outrageous payments had stunted Vanderfall's economy, causing many of its cities to fall into decay. But the Vanderfall people were resilient. They would survive.
"Hello, Jafia," one of her neighbors said, walking past with his four dogs. They barked and growled at her, warning her away. She'd never been popular with animals.
"Hello, Fran." Jafia offered him a slight nod before continuing forward. If she recalled, he worked as a researcher for some tech company. He smiled at her flirtatiously, but she ignored him.
It was a far cry from Rocke, who'd just barely mustered the courage to ask her out. And on a whim, she'd accepted. Jafia marveled at how much she'd enjoyed their time together, looking back. Her mood dampened as she approached her front door, grabbing her keys. Jafia knew that there wasn't any possibility they'd share a life together. They led too different lives. And Rocke wouldn't appreciate learning she was a spy. But such was life.
She paused as her keys touched the door's bolt lock, a cough catching her attention. She froze as someone appeared around the corner, his bulk filling the hallway.
"Excuse me. I'd like a quick word," Police Chief Rolf said, arms crossed. With a tilt of his head, he gestured for her to invite him inside.
Inwardly, her heart raced a mile a minute, but her outward expression remained calm—though fraught with some tension. It'd draw suspicion if she'd acted too calm. "Of course. Come inside, officer. Rolf, right? The Chief of Police? May I ask what this is about?"
"Good memory. I just have a few questions. Routine. Nothing to worry about." Jafia didn't buy the police chief's words for a second.
"Okay." And they both stepped inside.
As usual, her apartment was pristine and neat, a habit she'd kept even in her orphanage days. For whatever reason, she couldn't stand untidiness. It was a modestly sized apartment, ideal for a single college-aged student.
"Nice place," Chief Rolf said before planting himself on her couch. His massive bulk made it creak, almost filling it completely.
While only a temporary home, she'd given it plenty of personal effects. Books filled two shelves lining a wall, each categorized by the author's name. Some were fictional or scientific, but most dealt with her college profession. Cute little knickknacks of deer sat on shelves, and even a life-sized plushie of one sat in a corner. Jafia filled her apartment with character, so she didn't appear like someone who could abandon their life at a moment's notice, lest she give the impression she was a serial killer or something. While painful, she'd leave everything if necessary.
Daintily, she placed herself on a rocking chair she'd purchased at a secondhand store. "How may I help you?"
"Is it true you know a Rocke Ralss?" Rolf asked, throwing a surprising curveball in his opening gambit.
"Yes, we used to date," Jafia replied, appearing ruffled. "We split a few days before the unfortunate murder business."
"Is that right?" Rolf's expression turned thoughtful before he continued. "And you haven't seen him since?"
"Once. I visited him in prison," Jafia admitted. She couldn't risk getting caught in a simple lie. She knew Police Chief Rolf's reputation. One careless word might reveal more than she'd intended. "Despite our split, we're still friends. I wanted to check on him."
"And it doesn't bother you that your ex is a murderer and a traitor to his country?"
More hardball questions, huh? Chief Rolf did nothing by half-measures. "While I don't approve of his actions, I can't find it in myself to hate him, despite his crimes."
The police chief nodded in understanding. "And have you seen him after he escaped prison? I'm sure you've heard about it."
"No, I haven't. I've been worrying about him, but we haven't made any contact."
"Really?" Rolf raised a skeptical eyebrow. "May I ask why I found his things stashed in your car?"
Jafia tensed and cursed her stupidity. She should have hidden them better. If only she hadn't chosen to walk today, Rolf might not have snooped around her car.
"Sentimental, I suppose," Jafia said wistfully. "I wanted to hold them until Rocke got out of prison."
"Really? The charges were serious. The prosecution was pushing for the death penalty."
"Hopeful thinking."
Chief Rolf snorted. "What about your job at the Defense Ministry?" he asked, changing the subject. "Tell me about that."
"There's not much to tell. I worked there for about a week before quitting. I didn't like it there. And after the Minister's accident? I just couldn't stay. I tried the Mayor's office instead, though without success."
"Yes, I recall you have an impressive résumé. But what if I told you Minister Loffie's death wasn't an accident? But murder?"
Jafia widened her eyes, faking the right level of shock. "No!"
"Yes. So I'd be very careful with your answers, young lady," Rolf said, danger creeping into his voice. "What were you doing before his murder?"
But Jafia had already prepared an answer for just such a likelihood. "There's little to tell. We were planning for a ball for Minister Loffie's birthday. As a minor member of the secretarial staff, I helped with the preparations. I don't recall even seeing Minister Loffie during those two days."
"And the day before his death? The butler told me you weren't happy with the third hall's cleanliness. You worked the staff late into the night."
Jafia chuckled slightly. "I suppose I did. This was my first job after college. I wanted to make a good impression."
"Did you leave at any point during your late-night cleaning escapade?"
"Maybe?" Jafia made a thoughtful expression, like she was remembering a half-forgotten memory. "I may have visited the restroom once or twice. Otherwise, I stayed with the staff to make sure everything ran smoothly."
Rolf studied her, scrutinizing every pore on her face. It raised Jafia's hackles, allowing some genuine fear to show.
"And the day of the murder?"
"That I can't recall well. It was so hectic, it's hard to remember much, especially after the Minister's accident. I only learned about what happened when some EMTs rushed into the building."
"Very well," Rolf said, his stony expression giving nothing away. But Jafia got the impression she hadn't entirely fooled him. He'd be back. "If you remember anything else, call me." He placed his business card on her coffee table.
"Good luck with your investigation," Jafia said, watching the police chief's back as he left.
"Wonderful." She rubbed her temple. This complicated matters.
Well, whatever. This was why Vladus's intelligence service hired her as a spy. She'd needed to be more careful.
This was only a minor setback. After plopping herself into the seat of her computer desk, Jafia booted up her terminal. Through a secure channel, she checked her messages from various contacts. They were simple, incongruous messages that would seem innocent enough to casual viewers, but each hid a special meaning within. There held nothing too exciting, only routine reports.
Jafia reached out to her various contacts about suspicious activity within Vladus's government. A light flashed in her head, an idea striking her. To enact Sunbearer's insane plan, he'd require more than military support.
Her police contact replied minutes later, Jafia's heart beating fast with excitement as she read the message.
"I'll be damned. The prophet was right." Whether it was through a genuine divine intervention or just a coincidence, Jafia wasn't certain, but everything he'd predicted was true. No, it went further than that, Sunbearer's crimes even more appalling than Jafia had given him credit for. He wanted to oust everyone in the slums, regardless of race.
Her contact's document detailed a plan for an operation called Protect: Ugly Duckling. Rocke needed to know about it, though she'd need to concoct an appropriate lie about how she'd acquired this information.
"That confirms it. Time for the death blow." A faint smile grew across Jafia's lips, reaching out to various contacts. She was about to make Sunbearer's day tomorrow a rather unpleasant one.
---
Sunbearer flicked his fingers to the beat of the tune, smiling to himself. He sipped at his morning tea, its rich flavor energizing him.
The orchestra's violinists flittered like birds in flight, dancing in the springtime breeze. Everything was right with the world. He was its master, and none dared oppose him. The new day's sun streamed through the window of his parlor, bright and invigorating.
"Sir," Flash, his butler, said. "I have some dire news." He seemed agitated, twitching in his distress.
"Out with it, man," Sunbearer replied, annoyed. If Flash had bad news, better he spill it now. "What's the matter? Are the committee members complaining again about lack of funding? I've told them their pet projects won't get my support unless they give me a good reason."
Each one, while ambitious, wasted valuable tax money. He didn't want to fund any random city project unless it proved to him it'd be worth it. Parks were fine, but full-sized statues of the council members seemed excessive. They tried to flatter him by offering him the most prestigious statue, one fashioned from the richest gemstones. But he'd rejected it, finding it beyond gaudy. He was a public servant, not a king. History would remember him for his deeds, not some fancy statue.
After gathering his courage, Flash raised a withered finger, aged from years of dedicated work. "It's best I show you." He presented a tablet, and Sunbearer dropped his favorite teacup with trembling fingers as he read the news app front page. The cup smashed against the tilted floor, an amber liquid pooling under his shoes.
"What?!" How could it have leaked? He'd trusted the truth only a select few! This shouldn't have happened! Heads would roll for this!
The outcry was loud and violent as people protested the slums inhabitants being tossed from the city, decrying it as inhumane. Workers had taken to the streets, demanding answers. It was pandemonium. He opened his messages and saw thousands addressed to him, pleading for confirmation of the recent troubling rumors.
"Why am I learning about this now?" Sunbearer said, barely restraining his temper.
"I thought you needed a spot of tea before jumping into this mess," Flash replied, dutiful as ever.
"That's very thoughtful of you." His butler was always too kind. Besides, Flash wasn't the real problem. Before he addressed this mess, he'd destroy the person responsible for the leak. He left his butler to clean up the remains of his teacup while he made some calls.
"Sorry, Mayor Sunbearer, but I'm busy at the moment." Chief Rolf's words were barely audible over the tumult. It sounded like he was standing in the middle of the riot. The police chief had to shout over the curses and yells to be heard.
"Chief Rolf. News of Project: Ugly Duckling has leaked. It's even mentioned by name by its detractors," Sunbearer said, his calm like a viper ready to strike its unsuspecting prey.
"I'm aware of that."
"Few knew about the project. I thought I told you to keep it under wraps," Sunbearer said.
"And yet, it leaked. Don't blame me. With such a radical project, leaks were bound to happen. Some moral protest, I imagine." The police chief seemed completely unconcerned about the leak.
"The Konquellian remains at large? You still haven't found Minister Loffie's killer?"
When Rolf didn't respond, Sunbearer almost exploded. "You haven't, have you?"
"These things take time," Rolf replied. "Stop bothering me. If you'll excuse me, I have real problems to deal with."
Before Sunbearer could offer any reply, the police chief hung up on him. His phone smashed against the tiled floor as he finally lost his temper. "Such insubordination! He's not surviving to the next election." In fact, the only thing saving Rolf's life was the current crisis. Still, Sunbearer would deliver his vengeance soon enough.
But the man had a point. He'd solve the leak's source later. Sunbearer dreaded facing the public. The leak of Project: Ugly Duckling might have caused a political death sentence. Still, if he worded it correctly, he might salvage the situation.
Before he could contact Flash for a new phone, a figure burst into his parlor. Sunbearer tensed—then relaxed when he saw the intruder's identity.
"Prime Minister, I was just about to contact you. We have a major problem we need to discuss."
"Major problem? That's one way to describe it." A hard line creased Lux Luciest's usually handsome, flawless features. "When I said, 'Do what you think is best,' this wasn't my intention."
Sunbearer gave an indignant snort, puffing himself up. "I did. I wanted to save this city from that riffraff. Show the Demon's their beloved prophecy had no place in fact."
"That damn prophecy again." Lux Luciest waved a hand in irritation. "It's like a plague, infecting everyone who hears it. Even nations like Vanderfall and Durgan are whispering about it."
"Wonderful." So the delusion was spreading.
"And the worst part? Everyone thinks they must act on it, whether they believe it or not. That clerk is more devious than I credited him for."
"So he made it up to cause chaos?" Suddenly, everything clicked into place.
"It doesn't matter." The Prime Minister planted himself on the nearest couch. "The damage is done, and we need to repair it."
Lux Luciest gave Sunbearer a hard stare, his heart skipping a beat. It was like he'd entered a wolf's den, and he was on the menu. "Do exactly as I say. Not a word to contradict it, understood?"
Sunbearer gave a muted nod, fidgeting as the Prime Minister's glare intensified. It swore to cut him down dead if the slightest thing displaced his master.
"Good." The Prime Minister readjusted his pristine white jacket. "We are going on live news in twenty minutes. I've already arranged it. During the interview, you will nod and smile and not speak a word. Do this, and you'll keep your political career."
"Okay." Sunbearer replied, lost for words.
"Good man." Lux Luciest stood and slapped Sunbearer on the shoulder genially. "We'll get through this yet."
"I hope so." Sunbearer gave a weak smile, relieved he'd survived the Prime Minister's wrath. It was an experience he hoped he'd never face again. And why should he worry? He didn't doubt this news conference would smooth over the whole matter.
---
"Look at them." Rocke marveled at the chaos before him as the endless sea of furious, scared people. Police stood guard to keep the peace, stoic behind their helmets. But even with their army of guard robots, it'd do little against such a mob.
They listened to the turmoil as hundreds of Ottomon and menial workers protested violently, their anger a palpable force in the air. It was a torrent building to the point of bursting, threatening to drown everything.
Some held signs, others held up their children, demanding who'd feed them without a job. Ottomon and OUP citizens joined hand in hand to protest their right to exist. Even people who didn't live in slums had come out in droves in protest. If the rumors about the AI bots taking jobs were true, many would lose their livelihood. And what then? Would the jobless be forced from Vladus as well? News commentators were fearful of the domino effect of such a policy. Could mere AI bots replace an entire workforce?
From his vantage point on the roof, Matthias only shook his head. While his condition had improved, he still seemed pretty frail. "And so it begins. The fall of this city."
"You think? After this outcry, surely the mayor will see sense and abandon his crazy plan." Rocke figured it'd be political suicide to continue now. It seemed he'd turned almost the entire city against him.
His plan to force the slum population quietly from the city had failed. If Sunbearer had expected the OUP's general antipathy towards the Ottomon to help him, he'd been mistaken. Race hardly mattered when faced with possible destitution. In fact, the mayor's blatantly racist policy had earned many people's sympathy. This wasn't quite what Rocke had intended, but he hoped it'd be the wake-up call the city needed.
Still, it puzzled him how news about Project: Ugly Duckling got leaked. Did someone intercept Jafia's message? Rocke and his group had only planned to give the evidence to the media and force Sunbearer into a scandal he couldn't survive. But somehow, the info had leaked across the entire city, lighting a fire of outrage in Vladus' citizens. It was a miracle violence hadn't broken out yet. It'd take only the slightest spark to send this mob into a frenzy.
"The Prime Minister is making an announcement!" someone said. This earned a chorus of equal parts jeers and cheers, people muttering to themselves what this meant. Lux Luciest was a popular figure among the people, and many wore hopeful smiles on some faces. On every viewscreen, Prime Minister Lux Luciest handsome, smiling face appeared.
"Let's see him talk his way out of this one," Kallane said rather snidely.
"Hush," Rocke said, not liking the rather disrespectful tone toward the leader of their great nation. Soon, he'd show how mistaken Sunbearer's vile plan was and offer repentance to the people of the slums for such a plan against them.
"Hm." Matthias only stroked his chin, his eyes intent on the nearest viewscreen.
"My friends. It deeply concerns me that the rumors circulating these last few hours would disturb you so." As the Prime Minister spoke, Sunbearer stood on the sidelines so rigid, you'd almost mistake him for furniture.
"I hope to clear up the confusion and address any troubles the public might be having. First, the rumors are true. There will be massive deportations from our great city of Vladus!"
"Huh?" Rocke wasn't the only person confused, others muttering to themselves, unsure they had heard their leader correctly. Some people looked ready to restart the riot anew, but Lux Luciest intercepted them with a raised hand.
"But it won't be as you may fear. No! Soon, you will see the wisdom of Mayor Sunbearer's plan, if you'll bear with me for a few minutes." The Prime Minister continued. "Long have we had an element among us that has only spread discord and outright crime in our community? We invited them into our community, our businesses, even our homes and hearts, but they have spurned us at every opportunity! Jealous of our prosperity, they lash out and seek to destroy everything they can't have. Just a day ago, they led a protest that almost resulted in violence and hurt our citizens and brave members of our police force."
"What?" What was the Prime Minister saying? He couldn't be serious, right? Kallane screamed in protest at the outright lies, but Rocke barely heard her.
"You know who I speak of—the Ottomon. Or, more rightfully called, the Demons," Lux Luciest continued. "You've all seen it—how they hate us, how they despise us for not sharing their backward ways or worshiping their made-up god. They even have a crackpot telling people that if we don't supplicate to them, we'll get smited!"
"And frankly, I've had enough. We've all had enough. That's why our dear, beloved Mayor Sunbearer devised Project Ugly Duckling. It's an example to the rest of the OUP that we won't stand by and let this degenerate rabble continue any longer. That they are no longer welcome in our fair city of Vladus."
"No!" Rocke shook his head. He repeated the action like a malfunctioning automaton.
"No longer will the slums fester and pollute our city! No! Instead, they'll be turned into new living places, a theme park, and other beautification projects. But don't fear, my citizens. We will not evict the OUP's true citizens. No, this is actually an opportunity! We will take care of everyone in the slums, giving them jobs to help with this worthy project."
"We will bring these poor unfortunates under our wings and elevate them into the OUP's loving embrace. But don't fear—no one is losing their job. No one that doesn't deserve it, anyway. Our mayor has cunningly devised a way to strengthen our workforce and make it more versatile. We will use AI bots for jobs beneath human dignity—the type usually given to lowlifes like Demons. This will provide a more robust, versatile workforce to serve the people. Better yet, this will improve pay by promoting workers to better, higher-paying jobs."
"You hear that? New jobs!" a grumpy man said, excited. Other rioters seemed just as hopeful.
"I'll admit, this won't be an easy transition, but I promise you it will lead to a brighter, more prosperous future! Good day, my friends—the true citizens of the OUP." A text scroll replaced the Prime Minister's face, announcing that they'd provide further details soon.
"He can't." Rocke felt woozy, almost losing his balance.
Kallane uttered some unladylike oaths. "He threw us under the bus! Worse, he made us seem like subhuman trash!"
"Well, that's that," Matthias said, grimacing. "We've passed the point of no return."
"It can't be," Rocke said, shaking his head. Below, rioters who had once been furious began celebrating, cheering their great leader. Happiness over their improved situation had supplanted their anger and outrage. The Ottomon among the crowd remained outraged but balked as their once-allies turned against them. Even from this distance, Rocke perceived the contempt in the workers' eyes. They had found an easy target. With their livelihoods secure, why bother being friends?
Some started throwing rocks and bottles at the Ottomon, jeering and laughing at them. They made it clear the so-called Demons weren't welcome in their company—or even the OUP. Some turned to actual violence. A group grabbed a nearby Ottomon man and laughing they began to beat him. Rocke could only watch in numb horror, helpless to do anything. They'd lost. They had failed to save Vladus's soul, and now there would be consequences. And the Ottomon would suffer the most.