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mother's
tribe noticed a different character in me. They saw a ‘river’ whose course can
bend, but whose destination remains true,”
    “Yes very meaningful I
am sure,” said the desk sergeant sarcastically. “But we can use your father’s
second name, what was that?”
    “I do not know, he left
when I was a child.”
    “Then I am putting him
down as Citizen Eli River, unless you guys want to go back to his cell and
think some more about it.”
    “No that is fine
sergeant,” said Nathan who was keen to move on.
    After a short while,
the duty sergeant acknowledged that authorisation had been approved and he
asked River to come over to a redundant piece of machinery on the other side of
the room. He asked River to insert his arm up to the elbow in a recess, and
warned him that it might sting. It did, and River yanked his arm out afterwards
noticing the puncture wound in his forearm skin.
    Realising that the
process was nearly complete, Major Carlson gave River a carrier bag with some
clothes in them.
    “Here try these on.
They belong to my son. They might fit you until we can find you something
better. I am going to take you shopping when we are done here,”
    “What is wrong with
what I am wearing now, “complained River, “or the clothes which I wore, when I
came here.”
    “I don’t want you
walking around with me looking like some convict. Nor do I want you standing
out like a sore thumb,” The Major’s tone was non negotiable. So River started
awkwardly pulling on the trousers and sweatshirt. He chose this opportunity to
seek an answer to one of his numerous questions. “What did that machine do to
my arm?”
    “I will tell you
outside,” Carlson promptly replied “Hurry up; we need to get out of here.”
    River got dressed but
was finding the ill fitting clothes and footwear uncomfortable. He didn’t
complain but his body language did instead. He followed the Major through the
automatic door and they headed to a lift which took them down to a lower
concourse which was expansively large with a high ceiling. This was much busier
and appeared to be at street level. There were a number of public citizens
sitting down waiting for their name to be called to a few interview & enquiry
points. It was manned by a small number of staff wearing standard business
attire. Major Carlson and River headed briskly for the main entrance passing
two Rangers acting as sentries, and then they were outside. The Major didn’t
look back until he reached a taxi stand on the other side of the street and
then noticeably relaxed a little.
    “We have a notoriously
bad relationship with them” The Major stated, gesturing towards the Office of
the Environment which they had just left.
    “Who is the WE ?”
asked River.
    The major replied with
some pride “ WE are the Office of the Interior. We handle all policing
and security issues for the metropolis. They handle anything outside. I have
some respect for the Rangers; they are a potent military force, but the rest of
the ‘Enviro’ have an over inflated opinion of themselves and they are always
poking their nose into Interior's business. That was one of the reasons why I
didn’t feel comfortable talking to you in there.”
    “What are the other
reasons?” River astutely enquired.
    “River, Things are…”-Carlson
paused whilst seeking to find the right words. River had noticed this to be a
repetitive characteristic of the Majors.-“…not the same here inside the
metropolis as they are on the outside. There are different standards, and degrees
of privacy here. There is a certain degree of what you say, and what you do,
and what you are concerned with, being monitored,”-Major Carlson struggled to
find the correct words. It seemed as if he was expressing something that was
obvious but also hidden in plain sight. -“I am part of that process; I help
monitor people, situations, and organisations. Everything is recorded in some
fashion. It is all about the collecting