The Vast and Gruesome Clutch of Our Law

Ben Bamber

The Vast and Gruesome Clutch of Our Law, By B.C.Bamber

 

The Governor stared out of the window overlooking Goscote. All he could do was watch, aimlessly and helplessly, as the town decayed and the residents died one by one. It was now thirty years since the cloud arrived; seventy years of decline had led here. He could see most of the town from his window. The buildings that would have been filled with life, now empty. Ruins of a town known for its vibrancy and cleanliness spread out for a couple of miles, the population now living in just one building, which he could see from the back window. But for now he looked out across the town, just a metre or two from the ledge, the rusty iron frame showing through the concrete. He could throw himself off right now and end it all.

Paint was peeling off the walls, the brickwork crumbling. The cars and buses, trucks, and the odd rusting shell of a bike, strewn randomly across the main street. The Governor lived in a building showing the same signs of neglect. He scratched his beard, and in a hopeless daze he thought how this town was once a regional power. A well planned, clean, important place, before the country began its dramatic economic collapse.

The Governor was in his late sixties, tall and thin. His belt held his trousers together, which hung off his hips. He had to keep tugging at them to keep them up. He did not command a team of staff. He didn’t have a large car and a reserved parking space, or a generous expense account. He wasn’t given any special privileges as Governor, apart from this crumbling house and a large desk with a leather top. His respect from the people there was given, rather than earned. The administrational aspects of his position had long since given way to the lack of people, along with lack of resources, and recently, even the shortage of pens, pencils and paper. His assistant, Edward, was twenty-one and the second most powerful man in town. He was the Governor’s primary adviser and counsel. Not that either of them enjoyed power. In reality, the older residents commanded more respect than they did.

The population had levelled off at one hundred and thirty, the last child having been born three years ago to Edward and his wife Madeline. Edward was thin, as they all were. He was five foot eleven, and gangly, pale-looking, with a cold intelligent stare. Wise for his years.

Edward crept in and stood unseen behind the Governor, who was still staring out of the same window, watching the birds circling around in the sky outside the fifth floor.

The Governor spoke. ‘It’s failed.’

Edward was startled by his sudden sentence, unaware that the Governor knew he was there. Edward wondered for a second whether the Governor was talking to himself, and remained silent, checking around to make sure there was no one else in the room. Cruelly, he wanted to see the Governor like this, perhaps doubting whether he was properly handling the suffering of the last of the people here. Edward was like the others, questioning what good he was doing. But he knew that for the people to depose the Governor was as good as Edward himself being deposed.

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