“The thanks of us goes out to Thee. The food we're about to receive is in all a testament to your good faith in us. Let us be Thou humble servants. Let us aspire to be as great as Thou. Let us work to do good to You and fellow man. For the Cause is everything. For Uniformity is our highest goal. For You are paramount. For this food we thank Thee, Lord Czerno.”

After the traditional Meal Opening, Erik and Sean both saluted and sat down in their chairs. The waiter then slid down the daily rations before each of the customers. Steaming salmon could easily be smelt from under the reflective silver cover of the platter. Each day the Agriculture Council would decide what different people would eat for each meal. Usually it was just what was available in the region at the time. Ever since the Columbia River had been restocked Erik had been eating salmon at least three times a week. Food was considered a necessity. The various Councils made absolutely certain that every citizen got the exact same quality of necessities: houses, clothes, basic furniture, running water, public transit or bicycles for people that lived outside of major hubs, and until recently, cars. Luxuries were distributed to the populace via credits. Each job a citizen had allocated a certain amount of credits, higher amounts of credits where awarded to people that either worked longer hours or were working in extremely dangerous environments or were higher level bureaucrats. Education simply was a way of getting out of dangerous jobs, it didn't have any credit pay-off. Seniority wasn't a factor since the Advisory Council had dictated long ago that anyone not putting enough into society as they were taking out, would be terminated. Seniors with cancers and other chronic diseases had been deleted from the landscape. Daily rations would be given out and citizens could either cook it as is, buy spices with credits, or if they were incredibly high up the social pyramid, get their food prepared at a restaurant.

That was exactly what Erik and Sean were doing. The waiter lifted the covers and the two dishes of

Rillettes aux Duex Saumons

. A second waitress placed two Caesar salads and root beers beside the main course. The Advisory Council had made drinking alcohol illegal before 5 p.m. and it was barely noon now. Sean had already devoured his salad and was shovelling the salmon into his mouth before Erik had so much ventured a single bite. He was merely stirring up the leaves of his salad, pretending to find the perfect consistency of dressing on every piece of lettuce.

“What's the matter, man?” Sean asked, much like worried mother, instead of a concerned friend.

“He wasn't there.”

“He being...?” Sean probed.

“The defendant, he wasn't there.”

“Of course he was. I saw the news footage.”

“He was physically there. But he didn't seem to care. It was like his eyes were empty. He was shell. If you pricked him with a toothpick, he'd crumble.”

“So what, he's a psycho. Isn't every guy that kills a man?”

“Two.”

“Exactly, he's twice the psychopath.” Sean leaned over and Erik could almost taste the stench of garlic on his breath. “Listen, Erik, you have to hang in there. This case is going to get big, right. Huge, massive, enormous, get a thesaurus and find the most impressive synonym for big and multiply it by ten. That's how big this thing is going to be. Already everyone in the state will know about when they flip on the evening news. Okay, you get a conviction on this guy, here, and his neck hangs on a line for a little while, you start climbing the latter, man. Alright, first it'll being elected to the State Domestic Council, then maybe Censor, Administrator, and after that...” Sean shrugged. “The important thing to remember is that you and you're kids will be cared for. You'll be one of the lucky ones who can retire, your kids will get the best education.”

“Then why don't you want the case?”

“You know the business, Erik. More than two decades in the same office, you'll stay there for life no matter what you do. And I've got friends, Shamus and Kyle will be fine. But you, you can go far, Erik, real far. Or, you'll go nowhere at all, if you switch the case over. What'll happen then, huh? You want your kiddies to have to fight in Iran for an education? C'mon, you were in the War, you know how bad it was. But Iran, fighting some dirty Arabs who won't even battle honourably, all for some oil? Do you want your children to roam some desert, watching their friends blown apart by bombs, watching their brothers be filled with bullets, watching their legs torn off by land mines, just for an education you could easily have won them? You might as well put a sledge hammer to Angela's belly now, Erik.”

After that there really had been no choice.