The Children of the City / a novel by Nick Sidwell / nick@ifyoulikeittakeit.com
sinking sun. In the distance Cave could see the white smoke flowing from the massive tower in the centre of the council compound. Above him, the top of the nearby tower was dormant, colder and blacker even than the night sky it rose into. The flat was cold as Cave opened the front door. He set some beans on the hob and stood at the window, overlooking the city. The 3rd street tower was visible from the living room. Sparse lights in homes and offices floated like boat lights on an endless rolling ocean, curiously disembodied lives drifting through the night on the currents. Emerging from the waters, the tower was a hard emblem of the power of the council. The chessboard was in the gloom at a corner of the room that the weak bulb struggled to reach. He withdrew a crumpled envelope from his pocket. Its seal had been neatly broken and then taped back down. The tape bore the crest of the council; the correspondence of all city officials was monitored in this fashion. Cave went into the kitchen to fetch a knife with which to slit open the pre-read letter. An image of the old man by the rhinoceros enclosure idly entered his mind and paused there for a moment as he wondered what the monitors would do if they knew that he had failed to report the conversation. The reflection dissolved back in the lounge as he slipped the tip of the knife under the corner of the envelope and cut along the sealed edge. Inside a tatty piece of paper which had in black ink the stamp of the censor’s office revealed the move he was to play out on the chessboard. Cave picked up black’s defensive bishop and placed it where instructed. The air by the window was cold through the single pane of glass. Cave sat at the small chess table and rubbed his hands to keep warm. He stared at the board for a few minutes, attempting to decipher the move’s coded intentions, before giving up on the task.
23