Chapter Thirteen: The Negotiators — Part 4

Toward the end of cleaning, Arpie speaks up to Opus, getting him ready, mentally, for the meeting. “Can I trust you to keep your brother in check tomorrow? I don’t usually like to put family down on family, but we’ve got very little in the way of enforcement, and he’s going to be the source of a lot of shit if somebody doesn’t sit on him and and his Youth Guard.”

“I’ll deal with Dominic, if I have to. I took an oath. You have my word.” Opus says this, pushing the broom across the floor, smiling distractedly.

Arpie knows he can trust Opus. The massive, slow voiced boy has always been quick and honest. Too honest for his own good, at times.

“One more thing.” Arpie says. “I know you’re smart enough to know what I just told Jynx. If things do get out of hand tomorrow, try give them a way out. They’re the kind that’ll find their own way to the door. But I think you’d do better getting them to it. It’ll be less bloody that way.”

“Yes Sir, of course sir.” Opus sweeps the shards of glass from a broken coffee cup — Arpie’s favorite coffee cup — into a dustpan as he thinks about what Arpie says.

His face is completely without emotion as he dumps the broken ceramic pieces into the shiny metal can. “Anything you want me to do tonight, Sheriff, before I go lay my head down for the night?”

“Yeah, get up to the North Compound and tell the Mayor to write out a focused speech, getting these people headed in the right direction. We need to address technology, priority, and social concerns.” Arpie fills out a writ and signs his part of it. It had been a standard piece of paperwork associated with civil protests before the Storm. It has never been used in Quick Fox Glenn, and so has yellowed with age. “This is a warrant for authorization to take down and arrest anybody inciting a riot, written with an authorization for me to deputize, on the spot, any person I feel can put an end to such and such riot or outbreak, should it occur. I want George to sign it, and I want it back in my hands before you go home. Should take you ten minutes, tops. George knows what he has to do.”

“Gotcha.” Opus starts to head for the door, but Arpie stops him.

“Oh, and, it’s time we started showing you the respect of your position.” Arpie throws him a chain necklace with a badge sleeve on it.

In that sleeve is a seven-pointed star. Opus catches the star in his massive hand. It is extremely ornate, and has been etched with his name and date of birth on it. Ornate flourish works across the surface of the badge, making it incredibly difficult to duplicate. Opus finds a need to study it, to understand how the symbol of its shape and meaning came to be. ‘Officer of the Peace’ is posted in its center, set in olive branches. There are no weapons anywhere in its make up. Its purpose, apparently, is one of nonviolence. Arpie clears his throat, speaking kindly.

“Keep that on you at all times, son. You’ll be surprised how people respond to it.”

“I will sir.” Opus says, heading for the door.

Opus is a massive man with a hand so big that the Deputy’s star doesn’t quite reach from the crease in his wrist to the crease of his lifeline. Still, the weight of the star in his hand seems heavy, like it’s made of lead, rather than chrome with gold highlights. It grows heavier still as he puts the thin metal chain around his neck, letting the badge hang distinctively about midway down his chest. He’s quick to put it under his shirt. He heads out the door, walking toward the phase dock. The sun seems to be racing him as he walks to the flight line. George is pacing frantically between parts, testing heater elements, writing down notes. His crew has gone home, and he knows he’s going to have to power down for the night, even if he’d rather work all night long. Apparently, there are a few more things he’s trying to get done. Opus has to step into his line of sight to even be noticed.

George kills the batteries, covers the cooling elements, and takes off his apron, all while talking aloud to Opus. “Wow, don’t know how you snuck in on me like that. Arpie send you with the papers?”

Opus hands him the papers. “He says you need to write a speech. Technology, social concerns, and priority.”

George signs the writ after reading it carefully. “Yes — speech — got it covered. Know exactly what to say.” George is actually dismissive of Opus to the point that he hands the deputy his papers back without even making eye contact.

Opus is used to this thing, and tired of it as well. Despite his massive size, people treat him like he’s invisible, and he decides that George will not be one to ignore him. The violent boom of metal as his fist dents in the sheet steel tabletop shakes George to his core. Suddenly not only is Opus no longer invisible, he’s the most important person in the whole world. The burst of emotion has caused Opus to flare up, his muscles tensed, his veins popping with frustration. When he speaks, though, it’s slow and careful. His voice is something of an anomaly, because no matter how hard he tries, he simply can’t convey the emotions he’s feeling at a speed he wishes to relay them. His baritone voice simply doesn’t allow it.

“I have put a lot on the line for you and your friends. My family has disowned me. I’m living on my own now, with no friends but the new people to talk to, and nobody who will even hold my hand when I feel down. I took the side of the law, but it’s not going in our favor. You better unscrew what you screwed. These people are sheep. They all think they know where they’re going, what needs to happen, but they don’t know shit. They’re going to turn on your ass and back Brother Dominic with his New Order if you don’t put more effort into being a leader, and less into being an ass.”

“Uh, well, all right then.” George says, not daring to break eye contact.

“One more thing.” Opus leans in close to him. “I’m tired of people not seeing me. I’ll be damned if you treat me invisible because it’s convenient.”

“I will be certain to always make notice of you with the same level that I make notice of everybody else.” George says.

“Thank you.” Opus says. “How’s the jet engine project coming along?”

“The heat exchange parameters are all working better than expected. So I’m double-checking the results to make sure we didn’t do something wrong with the process.” George says. “If our math is wrong, then we’re gonna need some new math. We can’t, after all, have an engine that runs too hot, or strips heat too quickly because of a miscalculation.”

Opus smiles gently. “I’m pretty good at making with the new math. You know where I work. Bye George.”

“Bye Opus.” George waits until Opus is headed back to the Sheriff’s office before he lets his breath go. He puts his fingers on the table, tracing the indention of knuckles that would need to be hammered out.

George considers what it must be like to be Opus, and puts the matter into his head. George always knew Opus was smarter than most, but he never imagined that anybody would think so. Since he can’t keep working on the heater elements, he shuts the power down completely and starts heading home. It’s going to take him a better part of the night to get his ideas across and balanced, and he doesn’t want the whole contradictory math thing to take his mind away from his people’s needs. With the jet engine working, he can risk getting a plane up. Having watched what the gravity arch does to normal engines, George is certain that the only hope for anybody lies in ChoCho’s design.

Advertise Here