Level: Observer

About 5000 AD
Omah’s head-up display on the visor of his helmet indicated to him the likelihood of criminal activity with a coloured halo around each citizen; blue for law-abiding, white for untouchables, red for Scum. He had always had a visceral tendency for violence, probably, he thought, because of an anger borne of his of his bad luck:
His mother thought he had a look like a, “Whipped dog.”
His father told him, “Bad luck follows you like a stray dog.”
The funny thing was that he had never seen a dog.
He took another look at the row of columns under the Hall on the far side of the street and suddenly couldn’t remember what he had just been thinking. Not only that, but he had the feeling something had changed irrevocably.
A puddle near his feet dragged his attention away from the display in his visor. The more he looked, the more he felt as if he were being sucked into the black water. It seemed endlessly deep, but a dim light, like a lantern lost at the bottom of the sea, seemed to beckon him down. Without thinking Omah stretched his gloved hand toward the puddle, but a boot stepped in the puddle, sending ripples out across its surface. It was only water. Omah looked up, feeling angry, and stared into the empty eye sockets of a man. Where his eyes should have been, only endless, dark emptiness could be seen. There was no light at the back of the eyes at all. It’s repulsiveness shocked Omah, making him jump back.
“Look out!” the man screamed.
A car’s horn blared, somewhere close behind Omah. He heard the screech of brakes as he leaped for the sidewalk. An instant later, the fender of a black car entered the space where his body had been. The car accelerated away before Omah could get its license plates.
“Thanks!” Omah said, scrambling to his feet and stretching out his hand to the stranger.
“No problem! You nearly got hit! I just wanted to ask the way to the Mayor’s Office?”
“Oh.” Omah couldn’t think for a moment, because the man’s eyes now looked completely normal. “Back that way, second left. It’s on your right, about two blocks down. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks! Take care.”
Shalto Denner leaned as casually as he could against the side of the brick column buttressing the City Measurers Hall under the colonnade. Shaded from the main street he lit the rollup he had stuck above his ear. He had thought about giving up many times, but it marked you out as Void scum; an emblem that could save your life in tight situations. This was one.
He recalled that his good looks had often caught him out, so he slipped on a pair of dark shades. He still looked handsome; silver hair above a craggy face, cross-hatched by age lines and azure eyes. A girlfriend, more generous than most, had described his face as like a crystalline rock face, carved into the likeness of a man.
‘Can’t keep it up long enough to satisfy a woman anymore,’ he mused.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sparkle of light in the crowd. Looking more closely he saw the distinctive black helmet of a Municipal Policeman’s helmet and slipped round the corner to hide down Subaltern Street.
Omah could see a sea of blue, flecked with white in his display, no red. This made him suspicious. From the corner of his eye he thought he saw a single flick of red vanish round the corner of the old Measurers Hall.
“Ah ha! Got you!” he muttered. The midday heat made sweat seep into his collar. He slowly shook his head once to sooth an itch. He decided to pass Subaltern Street and double back, round the block.
“Something’s going on, Sector 4, corner of Subaltern Street and Main. Falcon 2 requesting back up.”
“Roger 2. Falcon 3 right behind you, half a block, on the right.”
“Crossing to right now. Stop on the intersection and wait. I’m gonna circle round and flush him out. Suspect he’s the lookout for something. These buggers always have complex crimes in mind these days.”
“Heh! Heh! Right enough. Careful Little Om.”
‘Shit! Wish they didn’t call me that!’ Omah thought.
Pointing his PAC-30 laser rifle in front of him to clear a path through the pedestrians, he briskly crossed to the right pavement and strode to the corner of the next street. In an instant, he passed from hot sun into cool shadow and increased his pace, finally breaking into a hot run when he thought he was far enough from Main Street. The heavy suit’s hip armour dug into his thighs at the top of every stride, making him wince.
“Sure glad I’m in such good condition. Bet this Voidy isn’t!”
Just before he took a right, into the suspect’s street, he checked the time, 11.06 am. He wanted this to be his best report ever.
“You in position Falcon 3?”
“Yep. Me and 1. Both sides of Subaltern covered.”
“I got ’em. Three coming down Measurers steps. Wait.”
Omah had no time to fill his team in. He broke into a run and aimed the A-Lex at the head of a scruffy man with a gun in the back of a Municipal Clerk. Omah could make out the yellow badge on the clerk’s cap, indicating high rank. And wealth.
The Voider he had glimpsed earlier, nodded to the other three and led them toward Main Street.
Omah often wondered if the kicking he received in the school yard because of his shortness led to the enjoyment he had felt pulling the trigger for his first few years as a police officer. But then there had been Schafer. DeLuxe Shafer. What a name! If anybody had been a born Voider, it had been him; shifty, good with his mouth and handy at evaluating stolen goods. Omah had happily removed the man’s head from existence, only to discover at the inquest that he hadn’t been at the scene of the crime. It had changed Omah.
He raised the barrel of the laser and set it to stun while he moved from one clump of pedestrians to another, each time getting a little closer to the gang and their captive.
‘They will waste him just before they reach the crowds in Main, then make a run for it,’ Omah thought, ‘Right now he is their bargaining chip and still worth something. This is his only chance.’
The street had very little cover; one or two more pedestrians between him and the gang, a short flight of steps to side door, probably a service door. He chose the steps and dove for cover.
“Citizens! Stop!” he yelled, after blinking the speaker to ‘Public.’

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