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man’s voice speaking. The box stayed quiet.
    “Ah, a false reading. Put him back in the group,” said Ludler.
    If possible, the man’s face paled even more. He realized—just as everyone else in the group did—he had been tricked. Because of his cowardice, Angus and Jenson would be purified. He fell sobbing at the feet of some of his fellow workers and they backed away in disdain.
    “What are your orders, Captain?” The lieutenant never took his eyes from the group while he spoke. They both realized now was the most dangerous time, once the captured realized they had been tricked and may not have anything left to lose.
    Ludler pulled a small piece of tech from the leather pouch of his belt and handed it to the lieutenant. “Test them all again, for real this time. If you do not find any fixers, cut off one of their fingers as a reminder of their blasphemy.” Ludler turned, then stopped and spoke over his shoulder. “Burn the factory to the ground.” He began walking as he issued one final order. “And if anyone tries to stop you throw them inside and let them burn as well.”
    #
    “Captain?”
    Ludler sat in what had been the factory manager’s office and stroked the box on the desk, his fingers caressing the wood, worn smooth over the years.
    “Captain?”
    He looked up, his attention brought back from whatever memories had filled it.
    “Yes, Lieutenant Martinez.”
    “Captain, we are almost ready for the purification.”
    Ludler nodded and flipped back the lid. On folded cloth inside the box were four bands of metal about three inches wide, each hinged on one side and held shut on the other with a clip. Welded into the side of each was another metal loop.
    It was not the bands that made most people pale and look away. It was not the streaks of black soot dulling the shine of the steel or the bits of char clinging to them like pieces of dried out, overcooked meat.
    It was the smell.
    As soon as Ludler opened the lid the room filled with the odor of burnt hair, a cloying scent but with a hint of charcoal.
    It was the smell of death.
    He took a rag and wiped down the inside of the bands until they gleamed in the light. The outside, however, he left untouched. Ludler had found from experience the soot and the remains served as a reminder of what would be done to people if they blasphemed against the Creator. Not that any of them would ever forget the other sights of the day.
    Martinez left with the metal bands while Ludler washed his hands and changed into a clean uniform. He looked in the office’s private bathroom mirror to adjust his black beret. By the time he stepped from the bathroom another soldier had packed his clothes in a duffle and was taking them outside along with the box.
    The smell of oil mixed with kerosene and gas filled his nose as he walked onto the factory floor. Ludler watched his soldiers use whatever they could find to prepare the building for destruction, piling chairs and benches, anything made of wood, near the walls and dousing them with flammable liquid. He was in no rush to leave. They could not set fire to the factory until after the purification ceremony, since they were using its electricity, so he took his time moving to the door, casting an appraising eye over the work. The building exterior was mostly steel siding and concrete but the interior would burn until all that remained was a smoldering shell.
    Ludler walked outside. Just a sliver of light peeked above the buildings to the west. The sun flared against the gray sky, throwing its last rays of red and orange to brighten the gray and beat back the night for a few more minutes. But, like fighting against the Creator’s will, the sun would ultimately lose its struggle against the dark. He turned to face the lieutenant who was standing in front of a crowd of people, a mixture of the former factory workers and residents who lived near the facility.
    “We are ready, Captain.” Martinez saluted, his closed right fist held