BLUEMANTLE by Karen Langston (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud TXT) 📕

“Good. The citizens’ reaction. Describe.”

Wulfwin had worked under Blix for twenty years. He’d grown accustomed to her manner of communicating: staccato statements, never asking a question. He suspected she would regard the latter as a sign of weakness. He took the contrivance to be a symptom of the same. “They’re afraid,” he said.

“The broadcasts. The script makes it quite clear.” Her eyes bore into Wulfwin, who met her gaze without faltering.

“It does. And they’re listening. But there’s also been talk of Wydeye Deep. They’re beginning to recognise what it is. Word is spreading.”

“Your point.”

“They’re realising it’s happened before. Now they think it’s going to happen again.”

“That’s ridiculous. We’ve investigated the cause. We’ve dealt with the problem. It’s under control.”

“With all due respect, Governor, you can’t control nature.”

The base of Blix’s neck flushed; her face remained stone white. “Nature is not my concern. We have the situation in hand. Your job is to communicate that fact. And step up ground presence. Their unease cannot be allowed to escalate. Order must be maintained. I’m not prepared to let it slip for the sake of a hole in the ground.”

“Yes, Governor.”

Blix rose and returned to the window, her back to Wulfwin. She put her right hand to the glass, tracing shapes with her long fingers. “Instability is inherent in the masses,” she said. “It’s endemic of the crowd. The larger the crowd, the more fragile it is. Therein lies its cancer. Volatility.” She turned slowly and walked towards Wulfwin. “I will not let this cancer grow.”

Wulfwin stood firm, his dark eyes pinned to Blix. The permanent sneer caused by the scar made his expression difficult to read. He waited for more.

“Tell me what we’ve learnt from the Exchange,” said Blix.

“Trade is down. Ears on the street say citizens are agitated. They think more needs to be done to make them safe.”

“They are a swarm of hysterical ants, teaming around their disturbed nest.” She walked to her desk and slipped into the chair. “I invite your counsel, Chief of Command.”

Wulfwin’s face twitched; his eyes hardened. “Toughen our response. The radio messages may be giving the impression we care. Meanwhile, the citizens have become a whining distraction. I’ve still got men at the scene – a wasted resource. We could be missing something.”

Blix leant forward, her hands splayed on the desk. “Word of an event.”

“No. But while we pander to the people, our guard is down. I say we step up operations. Visible manpower. The messages should reinforce the fancy we’re there to protect and serve. Meanwhile, we’ll be ready to strike the moment anyone takes advantage.”

“You are right. We cannot afford to jeopardise our chances for early detection. Call the Deaf Squad to action. Have them patrol the streets. Target Spire Wells and Creaser. Intimidate the citizens into feeling safe while you focus on the prize.”

“And the Allears?”

“Send Commander Lore to me.”

–

Wulfwin had left by the time Allear Commander Dent Lore arrived. He stood in front of Blix’s desk, his well-built physique partially the result of his daily run along the gruelling Nanso Trail. His dark, thick beard was in contrast to his closely shaved head.

Dent was a natural Allear, born with hypersensitive hearing that made him an asset to the Authority. This natural gift also meant that he did not have to endure the adjustment measures that the majority of recruits had to suffer: surgically induced anosmia and permanently sealing both eyelids at the knife of a plastic surgeon. By compromising an Allear’s superfluous senses, their hearing intensified.

Following his recruitment and training, Dent rose through the ranks and became Unit Superior twelve years ago. He served with unwavering commitment to achieve the goals of the Authority, with unquestioning loyalty to the rule of its Governor. He stood before Blix, calm and eager to obey.

“I commend you and your unit for your contribution to operations following Wednesday’s event in Glos,” said Blix. “I know you did all you could to detect trace of survivors.”

“It was an honour to serve the Authority, Governor.”

“The presence of the Allears was a reassuring influence on the citizens of Wydeye. They are fully aware of your capability. If anyone could locate survivors of the tragedy, it was you and your team.” She sat forward, her fingers drumming on the desk. “Which is why I wish you to continue to reassure our needy masses, whilst actually listening for the sounds for which you are trained.”

“Is there word of an event?”

“Not yet. But while the city grows nervous of another swallow hole, there are those among the throng who will take advantage of the distraction. So, we shall do likewise.” Blix was not known to smile. A slight twist to her mouth and a glint in her eye betrayed her satisfaction with her plan. “Put your Allears on full-rotation duty. I want all whisper dishes in operation, twenty-four seven. Visible presence. Let citizens see you in action. They will feel reassured, believing you are listening for signs of further collapse. The Authority’s messages will corroborate that assumption. While, in actual fact, you will be listening for a far greater threat.”

–

Commander Dent Lore stood on a rostrum in the Allear Training Centre, surveying the blind faces before him. Two hundred and sixty expressionless masks, pocked with a pair of shallow craters from where eyes had once seen. The adjusted Allears stood to unsighted attention, their heightened hearing obediently waiting for orders.

“We have an important mission,” said Dent, his voice calm and deep. “Governor Blix personally commended your contribution to the Glos hole recovery operation. She now requires our skills in the service of the entire city and the protection of its citizens. Our orders are to be the pervasive ears of Wydeye, listening for every heartbeat, every whisper, every note. In action, we are the sum of our parts; we form a single apparatus, which we operate as one. Together we heed the echo, sense the vibration, trace the illusive source of sound. Together we