Empire's End

Ten / The Politics of Madness

“I’ll pick up the tab,” Blake said, sipping from a terrible cup of coffee. He motioned across the diner to the waitress.

Voorhees had barely touched his sandwich. It was ice-cold now, two and a half hours after it was dropped in front of him, two and a half hours of trying to wrap his head around what Blake had been telling him.

“There are some elements that can only be contained, not cut out.”

Crime was an inevitability, and in today’s world, there were greater priorities than the futile pursuit of trying to eliminate wrongdoing.

The answer? Government-sanctioned organized crime. Finn Meyer’s boys ran protection rackets, prostitution, smuggled illicit goods like alcohol into the city. But they pledged not to commit acts of violence. No sexual assault, no homicide, noting that violated their “honor code” and nullified their standing with the city administration.

Of course, there was the occasional slip-up. Unavoidable. But wasn’t that occasional fall from grace better than a robbery spree or, God forbid, a serial rapist?

So what was the role of the Peace Officer, if not to fight crime?

“We keep an eye on Meyer, sure, but mostly we’re just a presence on the street for people’s peace of mind,” Blake had told him. “Our hands are tied a bit, but so are his. There’s a balance maintained and the people of Gaylen are better off for it. Don’t get me wrong = every so often a domestic spat or something escalates, or one of Meyers’ goons crosses the line, and we get some actual police work. But for the most part, street crime stays within the honor code.”

“Honor code,” Voorhees growled. “Bullshit.”

“I know it sounds wrong, I know it does. But this is a new system, and so far it works.”

“How long do you think Meyer can be contained? Are you really so naïve as to think he doesn’t already have other rackets going on right under your nose? That prick thinks he owns the cops. Far as I can tell he’s right.”

“The city can’t pour all its resources into a war on petty crime, Voorhees! Meyer may be a bastard but the fact is that the thugs under his umbrella are kept in line. So they take credits from local businesses and use them to buy booze. So they pimp — don’t you think a streetwalker is safer with a pimp watching her back? I know it sounds wrong, Voorhees, I know we’re supposed to cling to this ideal that says no crime can go unpunished, but for God’s sake that’s not the reality we live in!”

“We’re supposed to try and make it that way!” Voorhees yelled, pounding the table. Neighboring patrons tried not to stare. “So we can’t bring crime down to zero. Does that mean we sit on our hands or, worse yet, help them? This is fucking depraved.”

“But like he said, it works.”

A middle-aged woman with light brown hair and a sash around her overcoat slid into the booth beside Blake, flashing her P.O. badge. “Emily Halstead. Hey there, partner.”

So now it was going to be two against one. Voorhees threw his hands in the air. “Forget it. I’ve gotta put in my resignation. This funny farm can find another fake cop.”

“Blake, would you mind letting us get acquainted? That is, unless you two are already joined at the hip.” Halstead winked at Blake, who sighed and got up.

“Like I said, I’ll get the check. Think before you walk, Voorhees.”

Halstead took Voorhees’ plate and looked the sandwich over. “You gonna eat this?”

“I don’t have an appetite.”

She nodded and took a bite. “Mustard. Pricey.”

“So you want to preach to me, too?” he muttered.

She shook her head, chewing. “The system’s been broken from the beginning. Nothing makes sense inside these walls.”

So she wasn’t nuts. Voorhees leaned forward, taking up his coffee. “Don’t drink that,” Halstead advised.

“Why do you do the job, then?” he asked.

“In hopes that things will start to change. This is still America, right? You read the history books, you know change is possible. If not here, not anywhere.”

“What’re we gonna do? Go on strike? Let Finn Meyer put his own cops on the beat? Or do we lobby the Senate to shake up their precious sandbox?”

“How long have you been inside the Wall, Voorhees?”

“About five months.”

“You catch on pretty quick, you know that? I’m guessing you tend to resist this whole notion that the world out there no longer exists.”

“Of course.” He picked a wet French fry off the plate. “I’m thinking about enlisting. I’d rather deal with rotters than this.”

“You’d still have to live here,” she said. “Why not fight the system from the inside? You may feel helpless right now, but believe me, you’re in a position to make a difference.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. It just means pissing Casey off now and then. Maybe he’ll dock your pay, maybe Meyer’s boys won’t want to be your buddies anymore. I’ve been threatened more than once and I’m still here.

“Like Blake said, think before you walk.”

Voorhees made the mistake of visiting Casey’s office and trying to be rational.

“If you’d rather live in the badlands, get your shit and go,” the S.P.O. snapped. He wheeled himself out from behind his desk and asked, “Did they tell you how I lost my legs yet?”

Voorhees shook his head. Another mistake.

“I came north early on to help with construction. On my way up here — didn’t have a military convoy flanking me like the later ones — my friends and I were held up by badlanders. Highwaymen. They shot me. You can’t see it, it’s above me hairline, but yeah, they shot me and left me for dead.

“Then they came back.”

He kneaded the stumps of his knees, sweat running down his brow. “They came back that night and took my body to their camp. They were sure I was dead, you see. And they were hungry.”

He narrowed his eyes to fiery slits. “They’re just like the rotters, those people — lawless, godless animals. Take society away and that’s what you’re left with. The human animal.

“It was my screams that alerted a nearby Army patrol. They’d begun sawing off my legs.”

He took a deep breath and massaged his temples. “Oh, Voorhees. Don’t you see, that’s the alternative? If we didn’t have Meyer and his honor code, there would be animals running loose in the streets. And we wouldn’t have the strength to stop them. Everything would fall apart — the Great Cities are in their infancy and we have to safeguard their development.”

“And then what?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

And Meyer will set it ablaze when you’re halfway across, Voorhees thought.