Dominions

31-1

31

- 31 -

The area was quiet, with no more than a couple of people strolling around. Rodin watched them carefully, but they didn’t appear to be interested in him‌—‌a polite greeting, and they walked on their way. He saw nothing suspicious‌—‌no signs of either Shae or Parren, and nothing else to indicate he was under surveillance.

That didn’t mean he could relax, though. Eyes could be hidden, and there could be any number of watchers from behind windows.

He tapped the door screen at Leopold’s building and waited, stepping back to scan the front of the building. The architecture was what he’d call fancy, with bricks and slabs protruding in various places. Ideal for climbing, if he needed to escape through a window.

“Terrell!” Leopold’s voice, coming from the screen’s speaker, was enthusiastic but distant. Rodin wasn’t sure if that was from the tech, or a sign of the Councillor’s poor health.

He leaned in. “Councillor! I realise I’m early, so if you’re not ready, I’ll take this opportunity to stroll around this neighbourhood. You’ve definitely located yourself in a wonderful area.” The words sounded forced, and he cringed inside.

“Oh, no problem, my friend! Being confined to my rooms is such a drain, that your early appearance is a blessing. Please, come on up. It’s Apartment 32.”

The door clicked, and Rodin pushed through into the lobby. It was cool, the lighting subdued. There were lifts to his left, and a stairwell to the right. Apartment 32 would be on the third floor, so walking wouldn’t be considered too strange by Dome standards.

He considered options as he climbed the stairs. He needed to remove Leopold as soon as he could, and once again he cursed the fact that he had none of his normal tools. But there would be weapons in the rooms‌—‌blades in the man’s food-prep, objects lying around on shelves and tables. Or Rodin could rely on his own body. A punch to the man’s head might be enough to stun him, and then Rodin could use a pillow or cushion to suffocate Leopold. True, the punch might leave obvious bruising, but Rodin didn’t care. There was no time left for finesse.

He needed to remove Leopold, no matter what.

There were three doors on Leopold’s floor, and only a single Eye, over the lift. Rodin wondered briefly how often the feed was monitored, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

Another reason to complete the job and get out as quickly as he could.

He rapped on the door marked with the number 32, and Leopold opened it.

“Come in, come in! I’m just making a pot of tea‌—‌would you care for some? Rosehip? If that’s not to your taste, I can make another.”

“Rosehip will be fine, Councillor.” Rodin didn’t intend to be around long enough to drink it anyway.

Leopold’s main living space was larger than Sertio’s, but whereas the artist’s furniture was designed for lounging, Leopold went for more formal functionality. There were a couple of small sofas around a low coffee table‌—‌low enough to trip over, maybe. There was a wooden dining table and six high-backed chairs bound in what looked like black leather. There was a centrepiece on the table, a bowl with some kind of plant, and Rodin wondered how heavy it would be, if it would cause sufficient damage to a man’s head.

The food prep area was larger than Sertio’s, and the culinary tools on the surfaces appeared well used. There was a magnetic board holding up various blades, and Rodin’s eye was drawn to the cleaver. That would be messy, but might work as a last resort.

“I take it you enjoy cooking, Councillor.” Rodin nodded his head to the food-prep.

Leopold smiled. “I have no great talent for it, but I find it relaxing after a day at the Council offices.”

“I understand. Personally, I walk to relax, but each to their own.” The words meant little, but they filled in the time while Rodin scanned the room for other possibilities. There were cushions on the sofas, and through a door were more on a bed. There was a rug on the floor, and Rodin considered how that could be utilised‌—‌stun the target, wrap him in the rug, then pummel him hard, the rug absorbing enough force to keep bruising to a minimum.

Leopold busied himself with a glass teapot, stirring the boiling water and leaves within, a floral scent drifting on the steam. Rodin could have used some kind of poison, but he had none.

“How do you take it?” Leopold poured two glasses, and Rodin noted how his hand trembled. Yes, he was still suffering from his near-drowning. “Sugar, milk, cream?”

“However it comes.”

Leopold added half a teaspoon of sugar to his, and Rodin wondered about scalding the man. Wait for him to take a sip, then knock into the glass, fill his mouth with boiling liquid, asphyxiate him through burning his throat.

No. Not certain enough.

The Councillor handed Rodin a glass. “Please, have a seat.” He waved an arm, indicating a study area to one side. “I know the chairs are a tad ostentations, but everyone deserves the odd luxury.”

The chairs were bulky, the cushioning plump black leather, with moulded headrests and arms. They sat side by side, separated by a small table, facing a desk. Rodin placed his glass on a coaster and eased himself back as the chair moulded itself around him.

Leopold closed his eyes. “Forgive me this indulgence,” he said, then took a long, satisfied breath. “A few moments of calm, a few moments to still the whirling of my thoughts.” A couple more deep breaths, and he opened his eyes. “Ah, so much better! There’s a knack to it, though. I’ll show you, maybe later.” He smiled. “Although you come across as a very relaxed individual, Terrell. No, not relaxed‌—‌that has negative connotations. Rather, you’re content, a man at one with himself and with the world. But is the tea to your liking?”

Rodin took a sip‌—‌still a little too hot. “It’s fine, thanks.”

Leopold sipped his, wincing. But when he noticed Rodin watching, he turned the expression into a smile, and smacked his lips before placing the glass back on the table.

Rodin considered breaking the glass and using it to slice the man’s throat. It might not come off as an accident, but with enough force it would remove the man.

“I’d also surmise that you are one of those exceedingly rare individuals who actually thinks,” Leopold said. “I meet so many people who repeat the words of others, or merely say what they believe I expect to hear. But you, Mister Terrell, you weigh what others say, and you take the time to compose an intelligent response.”

thinks“It’s never sensible to jump to conclusions.” Was that why he hadn’t acted yet? He needed to decide on a method of removal and execute this damn contract!

“Precisely! And I would posit the notion that you have developed this attitude, at least in part, because of your past experiences. You have experienced and seen more than the average resident of‌…‌of any Dome.”

Rodin was way ahead of the Councillor. “And so I’m proof of the archaic adage that travel broadens the mind.”

Leopold clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Thoughtful, open-minded, and also quick-witted. You, my friend, are a wonderful example of the benefits of free travel. And it is to this topic I wished to steer our discussion.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “But I must admit to having an ulterior motive in inviting you over. Nothing bad, I assure you.”

Intriguing, especially coming so soon after Paskia’s agenda for wishing to speak to him. It appeared that he was everyone’s sounding-board today.

“You’ll recall the results I showed you of the Gantiz-Schoeler tests, yes? In particular, I’m thinking of the subject from outside, and the notion that some outsiders have the potential to function competently within our society.”

“Very thought-provoking.”

“Indeed. But let’s consider this in more detail. Why‌—‌or maybe how‌—‌could this be possible?”

“I have no idea.” But that answer was too brief. “This kind of‌…‌psychology is beyond me, I fear.”

Leopold shook his head. “That I very much doubt, my friend. You hesitate because you feel bereft of all the information. But perhaps I can provide you with what you require.”

He smiled, and Rodin mirrored this. Maybe he’d hear the man out before he did what he’d come for.

Leopold took another sip of his drink, and coughed. “Please, excuse me.” He produced a white cloth from his pocket and dabbed at his face, and then continued. “We know, of course, that when Horace Devin set up the first dominion, the fore-runner to our illustrious Dome, the people divided into two; those who were willing to abide by the rules he laid out, and those who would rather trust in anarchy. And over time these two populations diverged in their social bearing. Inside the Dome were law-abiding citizens, working together as an integrated society, providing constant support and encouragement for one another, while those outside looked only to their own interests, their world becoming a nightmare of constant conflict. That is a fair summary?”

“Very succinct.” Not the whole story, of course, but Rodin could hardly bring that up.

“Now, when Horace Devin set up his dominion, there was movement. Those who wished to try his brave new society were welcomed, and those who desired to leave were allowed to depart. And as the Dome was created this continued, albeit with stricter controls. Even a hundred years ago, anyone from outside was allowed to enter a kind of training facility, where they would be judged on their suitability while learning of the niceties of society. And if they were deemed sufficiently civilised, they were granted access.

“Of course, that doesn’t happen now, although people do occasionally leave the Dome. It’s not something that is widely talked about, but there are between five and ten cases each year. Often it is those who enter Correction‌—‌as part of the procedures I believe some are given this as an option‌—‌but occasionally an individual gets it into their head that outside is somehow preferable.” He shrugged, as if there was no understanding of this. “But there is one important question here‌—‌why have the numbers of those wishing to enter dropped to zero?”

Rodin shook his head. “I believe I require more information before I attempt to answer.”

“Then I shall provide what I can.” He took another sip of his drink. “Again, we look to history. Initially, there was little difference between those within Horace Devin’s dominion and those who remained outside. But over time, each population developed along different lines. Under the glass we have our structure and our etiquette, the very things that make us feel safe and secure. And outside, what fragmented rules they have lead to a very different kind of existence. Each society has grown over the generations, their own beliefs and understandings becoming increasingly embedded.”

Leopold paused, taking a long breath. He swallowed, and took another sip of his tea. Talking so much, even in such a comfortable chair, was clearly still a struggle for the man.