Kratz was bought forward. His head barely held up. His failure apparent. As he entered the room a silence overcame them. He had been a good man once. Unswerving in the line of duty, efficient, tidy. He lived the credenda. But models are broken like dolls when time acts up on them. The method has a way of unpicking at the rachis and thus the body falls, said Skyte as he approached him. His lean judicial form.

There is no excuse, murmured Kratz. I understood, when I took this post that-

Skyte put his hand on his shoulder before he could finish. He took his head in his hands. Cradled his face. I remember when you joined us. I warned you then how this way would test you. How it eats to the core.

The eyes in the room had dropped to the floor. The popular Kratz who took his post with a puissance rarely seen. Perhaps his only flaw was that he took a delight in the work. The silent work. The watcher. The interrogator.

Yes, that perhaps that was it, said Skyte. Our role is suppression and this must begin with the self. We are necessarily inhumane.

Yes, said Kratz.

Skyte turned to the room, does anybody have anything? Each face was mute. Eyes darted to see if there was some image, some shadow, some give-away of the sister with her siblings but there was none. Not a flicker.

Skyte's hands dropped to his side. Kratz asked simply that it was Skyte who despatched him to which Skyte nodded gently and the two walked quietly from the room.

They walked the length of the corridor to the where the elevator door awaited them. They entered and Kratz was about to press the final button when he turned to Skyte and requested that rather than take the lift to the carnal rows that they instead stopped at the ground and he was allowed to view the extraordinary hall of the Executives. It is a place that over the years has filled me with enormous pride, Legate.

The Legate smiled as he saw no reason not too. Yes, he said that he too harboured similar feelings himself.

On arriving at the ground floor the lift opened and the two old friends stepped out. On their descent they had discussed the morning. Kratz described how his young son had spent the morning goading his wife. They are like chalk and cheese those two.

As they traversed the foyer their footsteps echoed. Halfway across Kratz stopped and looked up. Legate Skyte, stop for moment, stop. It is ingenious is it not? My uncle designed these walls. The square lines, the white marble, corralling light so that this space is infinite. It represents the world to me. He brought me up, you know.

Yes, replied Skyte.

I still have the drawings at home. I don't much understand them. They are just lines and angles. He explained it to me once, actually several times, how each edge, each support... the lack of curves, the strength of design... the institution, the method, the way... Forgive me Skyte.

Feet walked around them oblivious to this final encounter between two men. I guess if there was some Eulogy this would be it. This place, this symbol... this thing that has been my life. He paused for a moment. Often I have wondered whether we are right. These laws that we enforce. Forgive me, Skyte, that if in the hour of my death I extoll some yearnings of liberalism... You and I have never bent from purpose. We the forthright.

Why did you let them go, Kratz?

Hm? Oh, you never flinch Skyte. Never in all the years that I have known you have you flinched. You keep your eyes on the berth. Our axiom of murder.

I am sorry Kratz.
No, don't be... And remembering his family he said, they are already dead. No doubt, the hawks have been sent. It was better me than you. Swifter, I would say. I know how you like the young.

The two men stood quietly, neither in any rush nor wanting any real delay. Kratz resolved to the outcome. Crushed perhaps by recent revelations as if he had awoken and taken on fresh air for the first time but as he explained to his wife that very morning, I have been crawling among the dead and their stink is upon me, these years I have lived in its shadow, not questioning, never loving - because how can you love when content, as I have been, in my vocation? Blindly content.

I would like to experience the daylight one last time, Skyte.
But Skyte's eyes dropped.
No... I suppose not.