Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls - Jane Lindskold [31]
“May I have your license and vehicle registration?” he asks with a faint Spanish accent. “Wait here.”
He carries them back to his partner in the police car and while she runs them through the computer, he idly drums on the front bubble pane. When his partner says something, the drumming stops and his attitude becomes tense and listening. His partner gets out to assist him as he’s already walking forward.
“Ma’am, please get out of the car, slowly, so that I can see you…”
He continues to direct me in wooden tones through a simple body search. Mechanically, I obey. Somehow, as he is patting me down, I realize that he is nearly as nervous as I am. This does not comfort me.
In a short time, I am arrested for vehicle theft. “My” car is taken in tow and I am stashed with my belongings in the back of the patrol car.
As the patrol car pulls away from the curb, the flashing orange-and-gold lights fall on Abalone standing in an alleyway, leaning against a wall. Her expression is neutral and indifferent.
The police station that officers Martinez and Chen take me to is quiet enough that my appearance makes a stir.
“We’ve got ourselves an MV thief,” Martinez brags. “I think it’s one of the ring that’s been working this area.”
In the brighter light I can see that his skin is dotted with acne. He’s young, a rookie.
“Hush!” Chen reminds her partner. She’s an Eurasian with grey streaks in her close-cropped hair and rank stripes on her uniform shoulders.
Martinez looks chastened for all of five seconds, but he listens when Chen directs him to take my shoulder bag and inventory the contents. Then he is told to run an ID check on me, first through police records and then farther.
“Is there a secretary available? I want to get a statement,” Chen asks the desk officer.
“‘A,’ okay?” When she nods, he slides a code flimsy to her. “Here’s the key.”
Chen takes me into a small room with white stuccoed walls. In the center is an oval table surrounded by several chairs. She seats me in one.
“Put your hand on those grey outlines and look at the shield projected on the wall.”
I do this, recognizing the devices as similar to ones recently installed at the Home. A light flashes and I am holo-graphed and printed.
Chen’s attention is for a screen set in the table surface as she calls up the correct program from the secretary’s memory. Watching, I think that I am seeing afterimages from the retina printing, for over the data streaming by in a sickening stream a single pictograph superimposes itself: a line drawing of a face, fingers held to lips: the universal illiterate symbol for silence.
Pausing, her fingers on a tab, Chen asks, “Can you read?”
I shake my head “No.”
“Okay, I’ve set this for audio, then. Listen carefully and answer all the questions. Be sure to follow the directions. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I can feel her desire for a hot cup of coffee as she leaves. Then I watch as the door slides and merges into the wall. We had rooms like this in the Home. No windows, no door once it was closed, nothing so crude as ventilation ducts. Escapeproof.
I tug at my hair and try to listen to the computer secretary’s directions.
“First, be informed before you answer any questions that anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?”
Forgetting the pictograph’s warning, I whisper, “Yes.”
The computer begins its interrogation, starting with name and moving into the details of the arrest. This time, I remember to stay silent. Patiently, after each question that I refuse to answer, the computer asks “Are you invoking your right to remain silent?”
I do not even answer this and after a pause it states, “For the record, subject chooses to remain silent.”
The neuter voice eventually falls dumb, and I study the room. I miss Betwixt and Between intensely and hope that they are being treated well. As I think of them, I become aware of a little voice. I listen carefully and soon I hear that it is reciting the same phrase