In the beginning of my life, I only remember the darkness and stillness of my existence. Yet now, escaping from this cosmic mumbo jumbo, I'm just a deadbeat security guard living in a dump of a city.

  The musky smell of rats awakens me from my drunken stupor, and I, in all of my disgrace, dodge the bottles to do my morning grace. While I am thankful to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit for permitting my sorry existence, I stop and look at the sun’s presence across the windowsill.

  I feel its warmth—its promise of a better day—yet I look around my room and know that reality has found me wanting. Now begins another day of my life, not expecting anything to change.

  After putting on my uniform and catching the bus to my office at Brim’s Steel Manufacturing Plant, I was met by my obnoxiously cheery partner, Lexington Sthal.

  “Hey, Jason!” Lexington saluted, completely oblivious to my hangover. Sometimes I wonder if he genuinely enjoys causing me grimaces in the morning. I gave a half-hearted nod to his salute and took my seat, waiting for the morning briefing.

  Then my scruffy boss showed his mug, his face fierce with anger—clear evidence of his frustrations.

  I thought, "Trouble with the missus, or just more work?" Sometimes it’s hard to read the whims of my boss.

  His anger was palpable. I suspected it was serious.

  “Saddle up, ladies—we’ve got a situation! Someone’s stolen the steel manufacturing schematics from the head honcho’s office, and he’s blowing a gasket at me! Either we find something useful, or our asses are cooked. Especially yours, Jason—this happened during your shift!”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  My eyes shot open in shock. “But yesterday was my day off!” I protested.

  Barndeny snapped, “Yesterday wasn’t your day off, you dolt. Today is Monday!”

  I stammered, confused. “I don’t understand... I was sure—”

  “Shut up, Jason. Just fix this. The boss wants it handled discreetly. Take Lexington with you. Now move it! I’ll check in with the locals for any info.”

  We panicked, grabbed our tools, and headed straight for the head office.

  -Transitioning from the office to the crime scene wasn’t an easy feat, since we had to act like everything was hunky-dory in front of the workers.

  While taking our time walking to the next destination, we simulated routine patrol patterns. Outside, along the perimeter of the premises, I browsed the motivational propaganda plastered on the walls—trying to get a sense of what times we were living in.

  “Work once a day will always keep you fed.”

  “Patriots! Work harder to win against the enemy!”

  “Beware of undesirables loitering around the premises—reporting keeps us safe!”

  It all reeked of ideological stigmatization and half-truths, yet some of it probably rang true for the local sucker.

  “Donate to your local church to support the war orphans.”

  “Donate clothes to our greatest allies in the East. Winter is coming—don’t delay!”

  I’ve always believed that charity is something you should do with your own hands—only then can you truly be sure you helped.

  I gave a sidelong glance at Lex and saw him dropping coins into the charity box next to the church liaison, who stood solemnly in her pressed grey uniform—a cross-stitched armband wrapped tightly around her bicep, signaling both piety and official duty. Her long, ash-colored coat was spotless, buttoned all the way to the neck, and a simple iron pendant of the Trinity hung from her collar. She handed out the hard, soothing bread with a kind of robotic grace—like someone caught halfway between devotion and state protocol.

  Before he got overly emotional, I “gently” reminded him that we should head to the office—before he sins in front of a bride of God.