I sort of wrote something
Mar. 22nd, 2016 12:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eve11Or at least, updated and finished a blurb I'd started ages ago. Rather dark, but here it is:
Title: Zero Sum
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eve11
Characters: Twelve
Word count: 500
Rating: PG
Notes: For the "Down" challenge for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
who_contest
----
The Venerated Magister Harrock ben Sevarnen had just finished balancing his ledger, and was preparing to leave. Behind him, the suns set over gleaming spirespike buildings, turning the clouds below to purple and orange. He double checked his figures, logged off and snapped his ledger shut, stuffing it into his carryall.
There was a cough, and he looked up. The doorway that had been empty mere moments ago was blocked. A man stood in the exact center of the door frame— gaunt, grey haired, hands clasped behind his back. He quirked a mirthless smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
The Magister blinked. This was the most securely guarded office of the highest spirespike above the mists; no one came unannounced. "What?" he managed.
"Not quite,” said the man, making no other move.
"How?" said Harrock.
The man suddenly clapped his hands together. "Getting closer."
Anger was starting to supplant the surprise. "Who--?!"
"Aha!" The stranger finally stalked into the room, dark coat flapping. "Yes. That's the question. Who?" He backed Harrock against his desk, scrutinizing him from head to toe. "Who are you?"
Harrock collected himself and sniffed. "I should ask you the same thing. You're the one who broke in! You must know whose office this is! I am the arbiter of the Subsistence--"
"Yes, I know." The man sneered. "The Venerated Magister of Subsistence and Caliber. The Gatekeeper of the Sustainable City. The Sentinel of Stasis. So many immaculate words for the arbiter of who gets to continue living under the protection of the dome." He swiped Harrock's briefcase and upended its contents onto the floor. Harrock yelped and lunged for the ledger, but the man snatched it up. "I meant, who are you to decide who lives and who dies?"
"Give that back!" said Harrock. It was crypto-locked but the thought of any hand but his on the ledger enraged him. "It's synch-ing with the Distro centers for the night!”
"What Distro centers?" the man asked innocently. He whipped out a thin device from a pocket, aimed it at the ledger and pressed a noisy switch. To Harrock's horror, the ledger blipped to life again, the digital display calmly lighting up with his most recent balances, and something else. An error message blinked in red at the bottom of the screen. DISTRO SYNCH INCOMPLETE: ALL CENTERS UNREACHABLE.
Twenty centers; in 80 years of daily synchs, at least five were always operating. Before Harrock could process what that meant, the stranger flicked the device again. The glass picture window shattered. “NO!” Harrock screamed and lunged again, rage twisting to fear, but could not stop the intruder casually tossing the ledger down into the mists. “Fool! Society depends on proper balances!”
“All well and good in the sums, but the people in your balances think it’s high time you came down to meet them.” The stranger caught Harrock's wrist and smiled, his cold eyes flicking between door and window. “Now," he said. "Which route would you like to take?”
Title: Zero Sum
Author:
eve11Characters: Twelve
Word count: 500
Rating: PG
Notes: For the "Down" challenge for
who_contest----
The Venerated Magister Harrock ben Sevarnen had just finished balancing his ledger, and was preparing to leave. Behind him, the suns set over gleaming spirespike buildings, turning the clouds below to purple and orange. He double checked his figures, logged off and snapped his ledger shut, stuffing it into his carryall.
There was a cough, and he looked up. The doorway that had been empty mere moments ago was blocked. A man stood in the exact center of the door frame— gaunt, grey haired, hands clasped behind his back. He quirked a mirthless smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
The Magister blinked. This was the most securely guarded office of the highest spirespike above the mists; no one came unannounced. "What?" he managed.
"Not quite,” said the man, making no other move.
"How?" said Harrock.
The man suddenly clapped his hands together. "Getting closer."
Anger was starting to supplant the surprise. "Who--?!"
"Aha!" The stranger finally stalked into the room, dark coat flapping. "Yes. That's the question. Who?" He backed Harrock against his desk, scrutinizing him from head to toe. "Who are you?"
Harrock collected himself and sniffed. "I should ask you the same thing. You're the one who broke in! You must know whose office this is! I am the arbiter of the Subsistence--"
"Yes, I know." The man sneered. "The Venerated Magister of Subsistence and Caliber. The Gatekeeper of the Sustainable City. The Sentinel of Stasis. So many immaculate words for the arbiter of who gets to continue living under the protection of the dome." He swiped Harrock's briefcase and upended its contents onto the floor. Harrock yelped and lunged for the ledger, but the man snatched it up. "I meant, who are you to decide who lives and who dies?"
"Give that back!" said Harrock. It was crypto-locked but the thought of any hand but his on the ledger enraged him. "It's synch-ing with the Distro centers for the night!”
"What Distro centers?" the man asked innocently. He whipped out a thin device from a pocket, aimed it at the ledger and pressed a noisy switch. To Harrock's horror, the ledger blipped to life again, the digital display calmly lighting up with his most recent balances, and something else. An error message blinked in red at the bottom of the screen. DISTRO SYNCH INCOMPLETE: ALL CENTERS UNREACHABLE.
Twenty centers; in 80 years of daily synchs, at least five were always operating. Before Harrock could process what that meant, the stranger flicked the device again. The glass picture window shattered. “NO!” Harrock screamed and lunged again, rage twisting to fear, but could not stop the intruder casually tossing the ledger down into the mists. “Fool! Society depends on proper balances!”
“All well and good in the sums, but the people in your balances think it’s high time you came down to meet them.” The stranger caught Harrock's wrist and smiled, his cold eyes flicking between door and window. “Now," he said. "Which route would you like to take?”
