Norton eased himself into the ripped cushions of his decades old couch, peeled the film off his microwaved dinner, took a sip of spiced lemonade, and turned on his TV. There wasn’t much broadcasting these days. Most channels were just commercial hubs with sprinkles of content in them. The last of the streaming services died out years ago, when people stopped being able to afford one-hundred accounts, and sharing was punishable by fines or even jail time. The worst experience Norton ever had with the saturated market was when there was this one mystery show that the networks thought would be worth splitting up across each other… 100 episodes, on 100 different streaming platforms. Since the internet had been stripped down and repurposed, there weren’t many alternatives to slogging through it. That was the end of that, he and most others had had enough. So, now there was only what little else had remained of the traditional networks in terms of televised entertainment.

  There were probably five good channels where there was anything of substance. The Federation of America’s News Broadcast (FANB), The National Film Archive, Tech Tomorrow, Relax-Station, and TV AI.

  The FANB was full of propaganda, sure, but it kept up to date with the goings-on of the Federation (relatively speaking). The broadcasters had personality enough. Though, Norton rarely turned to that channel for the news. The best feature of the FANB was that it was one of the only channels without commercials. Ads truly grated after the tenth time having to watch Kibble’s Cakes in a one-hour span. That theme song could drive someone to pure psychosis.

  The National Film Archive was his second choice – it streamed constant re-runs of Federation approved movies, which included most movies, just censored. Not censored in terms of blocking swearing or nudity – those things were there in abundance. No, it censored violence and political talk more than anything else. Still, it was varied and had longer spans between ad breaks.

  Tech Tomorrow was technically a commercial hub, but it was unique in that it showcased a lot of cool new Monolith inventions and their applications, and it never showed additional ads, so it was another safe place from Kibble’s Cakes.

  Relax-Station wasn’t really a network, as it was just animatic landscapes with ambient music, but it was always a nice break from reality. One look outside at the smogy towers of Star City, and you’d long for the fabricated haven of white beaches and shady palm trees. He’d once spent his entire afternoon watching the channel – forgetting to show up to work at all that day. He was nearly fired for that, but he’d talked his way back into the job by offering to work overtime for the next month. Come to think of it, maybe he should have let them fire him and free him from his obligations much sooner. Well, anyway, that was why he didn’t go to that channel except on weekends.

  Last was TV AI, which was crappy – an AI would sync up with the viewer’s watch history and try to make up movies on the spot based on what they seemed to prefer watching. But the rub was that since most of television was commercials, propaganda, and reruns – the AI really didn’t have much to work with other than play fever dream combinations of whatever else the viewer had seen. It made for a good way to pass the time at least, especially after heavy drink. Though, he’d never make the mistake of watching it before bed. Nightmares.

  Anyway, that night he’d decided to end his day off with the FANB. There was supposably an interview with the Governor of the East in conjunction with his Monolith successor, Charlie Crain, regarding their new purifier upgrades. Norton of course already had seen the new tech at work and guessed that the FANB would undoubtedly gloss over or hide certain details – but it made for a fun challenge watching these things to figure out how they would spin stuff. As a detail specialist, Norton often knew more than most people in the Federation, including some military personnel. He guessed that was the main reason they still hadn’t let him quit.

  The program kicked off with some typical introductions, yada-yada. Norton ate his plastic scented food, and sipped his cheap lemonade, and settled back.

  Something was at the window.

  His heart jolted, but he hadn’t made out what it was. Probably just a cloud of smog listing by. Colder weather would often bring the pollution down to his second-floor window. Second-floor living sucked as far as things went for most people, but he’d always found it nice not having smog at his level all the time, and useful since he’d get to hear any drama on the streets. This one time-

  There it went again.

  Norton choked on a sip of lemonade.

  That smoke...

  There was a knock on the door.

  He twisted his head to it so fast, he knocked his dinner to the floor. “Ah come on, now.”

  He snatched up the container and swept in the spilt synthetic steak.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Another knock on the door, followed by an icy voice. “Norton J. Ellings, J-1112, you have one minute to comply.”

  Crap. Inspection. Norton sighed, left the half-cleaned mess, and skated to his apartment’s door. Feds were terribly impatient, one-minute? He flicked on a monitor by the door, which displayed a wide view of the hallway.

  A man stood there in a long coat, his head shaven, and a visor augmented into his temples that stretched across his eyes, looking like an old polaroid camera was welded to his face. He wasn’t alone. Three inspection class drones hovered behind him. The things were circular like any Federation drone, but these ones had little black bubbles around their hulls – which were cameras.

  Norton called out, “what brings you here? I’m off duty.”

  “Fifteen seconds, Mr. Ellings,” the inspector replied.

  Impatient as always. Well, nothing good came from denying a Fed’s request for entry – better to get it over with while he was asking nicely.

  Norton pressed his thumb to a keypad on the door, and a dozen bolts and chains automatically slid back. He pulled the door open.

  The inspector strode into the room as the three drones peeled off and scanned the various appliances and limited furniture in Norton’s room. There wasn’t much to inspect. His kitchen and living room were pretty much one space, connected by a small bathroom. He also wasn’t much for collecting stuff – most of what he owned was a small closet’s worth of clothes, some cleaning tools for work, his tablet, and a portable electric drum kit. The drones were done lighting up the room with their green scanners in under five minutes.

  “So,” Norton sighed, “are we good here, mr…?”

  “Inspector Kay,” The inspector pursed his lips. He was carrying something behind his back. Paper? He closed the door.

  Norton had gone through these types of inspections plenty of times. People in his line of work were always under scrutiny, since they were exposed to more things than the average enforcer might be. But still, he could never help the underlying anxiety he felt being in the room with an inspector. Once, there was this other detail specialist who got caught tracking home a clump of hair on his boots from an Afflicted who could transform into a wolf-like creature. Whether intentional or not, harboring evidence from an Afflicted encounter was considered highly suspect – and sure enough, that janitor was hauled to VR interrogation and repurposed. As to where he went, Norton didn’t know, and honestly didn’t want to know.

  “Explain to me what happened at the Monolith site a few days back,” Inspector Kay said.

  Norton sighed. “I wrote about it all in my report.”

  “Refresh me anyway.”

  Trying his best to maintain his calm, Norton replayed everything that had happened at his last operation, including the incident with that mutant teleporting cat killing a whole squad of enforcers.

  The inspector stared with his visor, no emotion. “An odd happenstance that such a creature left you alone.”

  Norton shrugged. “I was wearing a helmet and radiation suit – I think it got distracted by its reflection and a torn flap on my arm. Elevator opened before it remembered it wanted to kill people, and it poofed away to freedom.”

  “Very odd.”

  What was this guy trying to get at? Norton frowned. “Look, it was a cat. Those things are unpredictable as is, let alone a freaking mutant one – pardon me. What are you trying to do? If you think there’s something special about me or I’m lying, I gotta level with you: I don’t have an ounce of special or deception in me, friend.” He tried not to let frustration rise in his voice, but it really annoyed him to have to deal with this – now he’d missed that interview on the TV, and he’d have to probably turn to the freaking TV AI or censored movies for any entertainment for the evening. Ah, and that TV dinner was probably filthy beyond consumption now, not to mention the stained carpet.

  “Well,” the inspector said, “as you say. The security footage corroborates your side of the story, so as far as the Federation is concerned, you don’t have anything to worry about. I just thought I’d bring you your mail.” He brandished two envelopes. Rare, they were only utilized to prevent important documents from being tampered with via transfer apps. He showed the front of one of them.

  It read, University of Star city. It was already opened.

  “Congratulations. Major in business, minor in… music?”

  That was just like the Feds to go through his mail. Norton reached for the letter, “yep, that’s right.”

  The inspector pulled the letter back. What was going on? He revealed the second letter, also opened.

  Response to Resignation Request.

  They sent it by mail this time? Usually, Norton got his rejections via his work app.

  “It seems,” Kay said, “the government is willing to accept your resignation request.”

  “Uh, thank you?” They actually accepted it? They’d never… He never… Was he free to follow his dreams?

  “On one condition.”

  Ah, there it is. “What’s that?” Norton asked.

  “You will go through a probation period where you are stripped of your official access for one-month and quarantined in a special holding cell where we will subject you to a host of stimuli and monitor the results. Should you be deemed as having a loyal history of conduct, you will be declared an inert threat to Federation intelligence and allowed to pursue any career of your choosing – as long as said path is considered nationally beneficial. In this case, I’ve heard you have interest in the National Orchestra?”

  The Federation always knows… “Uh, yeah, I’ve thought about that.”

  “Good. That will be an acceptable path. I’m glad to give you this happy news,” the inspector handed Norton the two envelopes, who took it in shaking hands. “You’ll be expected to appear for evaluation in a week. Good night.” With that, the inspector opened the door, wafted his drones out, and closed the door behind him.

  Norton could barely feel his fingers, could barely register what he had heard and what he was looking at. His university application accepted. His resignation pending toward affirmation? Sure, he’d have to undergo whatever bogus inspection programs the Federation had cooked up – but he was clean. Not once in his days working as a detail specialist had he done anything to bend the rules, well, besides the occasional drink – but nothing that would suggest sympathy toward rebels or Afflicted. Pretty freaking fantastic. He was free!

  “Mrow.”

  Oh, sweet-loving Federation of America, why me?

  REMINDER - These chapters were written a long time ago, but never fit into the main story.

  Interlude release schedule:

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