He stared at that meagre diary trembling in his hands as if crossed by a low voltage current. His conscience was blocking him. Did he have to denounce his predecessor, dragging him into endless troubles, wherever he was? Or was it better to pretending not to have found the papers and put them back where he found them? He didn’t want to read them again anyway. He knew himself. Something like that would be harmful to him, giving him nightmares, or just lead him in the dumps.
On the other hands, putting everything back and pretending nothing happened was equal to betraying the NMO, in a way. Was it better, then, to ruin a stranger’s life? He would have to at least give back a part of the sum he had received, if hadn’t already spent it all, to pay a fine. He tried walking in his shoes for a moment. He imagined himself under the sun, on his tropical island, while watching with perplexity two soldiers walk towards him on the beach, looking like someone who was bearing some bad, bad news…
He absent-mindedly – or maybe driven by an unconscious impulse – looked out of the window to maybe find advice in the white sky. And finding out that a truck was coming towards the Tank from the Confinement sector made him jump. He looked at the clock. Two minutes to five.
“Oh, shit…”
He had the presence of mind to lift the mattress and put those damn sheets of paper over the frame, trying to be as accurate as possible as for what their original position was, fighting against the nervousness of the moment. He then rushed to grab the clipboard with the fax and secure the holster of his Beretta to his belt, just in time for the signal to announce the lift’s arrival.
While positioning himself in front of the Shutter, with his typical expression comprehending the three things that were expected of him (readiness, security, efficiency), he wondered if the tumult he felt between heart and lungs also showed in his eyes.
The cabin stopped at his floor and, when the door opened, a man in his sixties came out, pretty elegantly dressed, even if the clothes were dirty and creased. He wore a pair of round glasses, kept on by a crooked sidepiece. One of the lenses was shattered and the cheekbone underneath was red with fresh blood, as if the man had recently received a strong blow on his face. A red rivulet was still dripping down his cheek before being absorbed by the collar of his shirt.
Giovanni shifted his focus on the Escort Guard – there was only one of curse – appearing behind the convict and he felt his stomach contract. Alex Allevi.
The ex-candidate for the Keeper position was unmoved behind his mirror glasses. He didn’t wear them last time. They probably represented some sort of status symbol for the EGs, ora maybe they were just a vanity item. He advanced pushing the old man with the barrel of his sub-machine gun with energetic and nervous movements. He didn’t even look at Giovanni; when they were in front of the Shutter, he took the form and declared: “As per regulation 9817/40, I deliver today to the Keeper of Tank 9 the convict Mario Debonis, sixty years old, grooming and fraudulent solicitacion of children.”
The bleeding man groaned, nodding.
Giovanni stared at Alex for a few seconds, certain that it was him who hit the convict. It wasn’t possible that the convict had been brought there from Confinement already in that condition: when ha convict was confined, he became a sort of pariah, untouchable. And until the Unloading phase he was not to be harmed in any way.
He did it when nobody could see. In the lift, with the barrel of his 13-S.
“Grooming and fraudulent solicitacion of children.” Alex repeated to shake Giovanni awake from his state of bewilderment.
The Keeper instantly came to. He ticked the new guest’s name of the fax, then input the Unlocking Code of the day. Debonis went in silently, ruefully, the binds on his wrists so tight that they left a vivid red mark on his skin. And justice took its course.
A few seconds of silence followed, a silence filled by heavy and labored breathing, ascending to burn against the neon of the Ring.
Alex hadn’t moved, a hint he wanted to stay there, talk.
It was Giovanni who broke the ice. “Hi, Alex.”
The Guard slowly took his glasses off and smiled tiredly at the former rival. “Hi, Giovanni.”
The Keeper realized his throat was dry and tried to mitigate the halo of embarrassment hiding behind a simple triviality. “So… now you’re a Guard.”
“Yeah…”
“And… is it good?” An annoying drop of sweat ran down his back. He managed to dry it up by slightly moving his shoulder blades.
Alex, who still had his gun up, immediately lowered it. “Yeah, I… I can say so. They make us move a bit, from a place to another, where it is needed… but it’s a good job, yes…”
Giovanni was under the impression he could read something else in his eyes: you’re way better off in here, you bastard. You don’t have to work all that much and in the end you will leave with a compensation we can’t even dream of.
“ Did you serve in other Tanks, too?”
Alex smiled bitterly, almost with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, but you know it’s confidential. Nothing personal, Giovanni. But you’re not in the military.”
“No, of course. I understand. Rules are rules.”
A thin layer of eyes created between the two; but it melt down almost immediately because Alex did something Giovanni didn’t expect. He extended his hand.
“I… despite what you might think… I’m happy for you. And I want to congratulate with you.”
Giovanni was left speechless, his mouth open, one second more than he actually wanted. Then he shook his hand.
“Thank you.” He muttered.
He mentally blamed himself for judging the guy the wrong way. At least concerning the supposed rivalry between them. But there was still the problem of the pedophile’s bleeding, black-and-blue cheekbone (even thought the man had more serious problems to handle now). He could pretend he didn’t see anything, on professional level.
When they broke the handshake, he said: “Did you… do that to…”
Alex coughed and instinctively took a step backwards. “I’ve always hated pedophiles. And I don’t think it’s appropriate to tell you why. I had a very bad experience when I was a kid. I know I made a mistake. But I couldn’t hold back.”
Giovanni nodded. The young soldier had violated the rules, but he couldn’t blame him. To be frank, it was possible he would do way worse, were he in his shoes.
“I know you should report me.” Alex added defensively. “But… it would be your word against mine. You have now ay to prove it, you know? That bastard is gone. What do you say?”
Giovanni didn’t move. His reasoning was ironclad. “I have nothing to say. If you had damaged the NMO in some way, I would be obliged to talk. But in this case…”
He let the sentence fade. The meaning of his answer was clear enough.
Alex got a hold of himself, preparing to leave. “Good. It was a pleasure meeting you again, Giovanni. Have a good day.”
Giovanni saluted him, half-seriously and half-jokingly.
“I better leave. I’m already late. Better if I get back to the Center to avoid any questions.” He that got to the elevator and pressed the button to make the doors open. “If I’m assigned to any other single deliveries, we’ll have the chance to chat for a while. If there’s another guard…” he shrugged, walking inside the cabin.
A sudden question came to Giovanni’s mind. “How’s the general?”
While the doors were closing, Alex smiled and raised his thumb.
That night Giovanni couldn’t get to sleep. There were too many relics in the surface of his awarness, waving lazily adrift. He wanted to grab one of them, but as soon as he thought to have made it, the makeshift buoy would turn over, sending them back among the waves. The Keeper’s diary. Alex’s tired smile. The bleeding face of that man…