in front of the Bulldogs before they kept their gaze honed on him.
This was not the woman whose mischievous smile had beckoned Peter for months before they started dating, before he had built up the courage to ask her to dinner. This woman wasn’t the one who made him smile in spite of his reserved and serious genetic make-up. She was not the woman who had, barely an hour ago, wrapped her long arms around him in the bed where they had made love. This woman was dangerous. Peter abhorred danger or any kind of excitement, and he turned his face away from it. He heard her despairing gasp, but wouldn’t look at her face as the Bulldogs pulled her arm and carried her out of his home. When he looked back around, one of the Bulldogs was still standing there in the middle of the room watching him.
“You can still be her Defense if you wish,” the Bulldog said, simply. Peter immediately shook his head, shaking Shannon out.
“Good choice,” the Bulldog said, nodding his own head. “No reason to get caught up in her impending future.”
“She’s…she’s a Could?” Peter asked. He didn’t want to know, he shouldn’t have asked. The question was damn near incriminating.
“Actually,” the Bulldog said before he closed the apartment door behind him, “she is a Would.”
Peter spent the next hour sitting in the shower, washing away all remnants of the Would that he had let into his home, into his life. He had to be more vigilant, he told himself. He had come too close to being dragged out of his own home for a crime that he would be accused of potentially committing. After work tomorrow, he planned to perform at least five hours of community service to prove that his intentions were pure. The soup kitchen was always in need of help, and it had been weeks since he volunteered anywhere. Shannon had taken up his time, and distracted him from his duties. Six hours. He would volunteer six hours tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. Over the weekend, he would join a community outreach group. He would prove that he couldn’t be a Could and would never be a Would. Never.
Chapter Two
P eter was exhausted for two weeks. He eventually decreased his volunteer hours when he felt that he had done enough penance, but he continued the community outreach group over the weekends. When he got to the classroom, he was almost ten minutes late. A few students were actually packing their bags. If it weren’t for the headache that he was suffering, he would have given them his best glowering look. They were definitely Coulds. He should report them after class.
“Apologies, apologies,” he whined. He placed his briefcase on his desk, and started writing on the whiteboard.
“Last class, we were, uh, going over the, uh, the scientific data that backs the Purge and the reasoning behind the Denunciation Act of 2038. I can’t remember where we left off…” Peter finished writing “Denunciation Act of 2038” on the board, and started rummaging through his briefcase.
“We just finished with the Purge, Professor Ronin,” called Sybil Loyd from the front of the class. She talked with her hand raised. She did that often. Her sharp eyes were always pointed fervently at the board, breaking away only to jot down quick, succinct notes in her tablet. Her gaze was just as fervent today, but it seemed even more so to Peter. He used the last class to further denounce Shannon. He called it his personal story about his near fatal encounter with a Would, and why the Denunciation Act was so necessary. This one, Peter thought, will work for the D.A.E. one day. He could see that Sybil relished the idea of swift and terrible justice executed on those wicked enough to do evil. It goes a step further than that, though, doesn’t it? Peter thought. The D.A.E. definitely went a step further than justice. The D.A.E. offered safety, protection, and certainty.
“Yes, well, the Purge occurred the same year as the Denunciation Act. People were, uh,
This was not the woman whose mischievous smile had beckoned Peter for months before they started dating, before he had built up the courage to ask her to dinner. This woman wasn’t the one who made him smile in spite of his reserved and serious genetic make-up. She was not the woman who had, barely an hour ago, wrapped her long arms around him in the bed where they had made love. This woman was dangerous. Peter abhorred danger or any kind of excitement, and he turned his face away from it. He heard her despairing gasp, but wouldn’t look at her face as the Bulldogs pulled her arm and carried her out of his home. When he looked back around, one of the Bulldogs was still standing there in the middle of the room watching him.
“You can still be her Defense if you wish,” the Bulldog said, simply. Peter immediately shook his head, shaking Shannon out.
“Good choice,” the Bulldog said, nodding his own head. “No reason to get caught up in her impending future.”
“She’s…she’s a Could?” Peter asked. He didn’t want to know, he shouldn’t have asked. The question was damn near incriminating.
“Actually,” the Bulldog said before he closed the apartment door behind him, “she is a Would.”
Peter spent the next hour sitting in the shower, washing away all remnants of the Would that he had let into his home, into his life. He had to be more vigilant, he told himself. He had come too close to being dragged out of his own home for a crime that he would be accused of potentially committing. After work tomorrow, he planned to perform at least five hours of community service to prove that his intentions were pure. The soup kitchen was always in need of help, and it had been weeks since he volunteered anywhere. Shannon had taken up his time, and distracted him from his duties. Six hours. He would volunteer six hours tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. Over the weekend, he would join a community outreach group. He would prove that he couldn’t be a Could and would never be a Would. Never.
Chapter Two
P eter was exhausted for two weeks. He eventually decreased his volunteer hours when he felt that he had done enough penance, but he continued the community outreach group over the weekends. When he got to the classroom, he was almost ten minutes late. A few students were actually packing their bags. If it weren’t for the headache that he was suffering, he would have given them his best glowering look. They were definitely Coulds. He should report them after class.
“Apologies, apologies,” he whined. He placed his briefcase on his desk, and started writing on the whiteboard.
“Last class, we were, uh, going over the, uh, the scientific data that backs the Purge and the reasoning behind the Denunciation Act of 2038. I can’t remember where we left off…” Peter finished writing “Denunciation Act of 2038” on the board, and started rummaging through his briefcase.
“We just finished with the Purge, Professor Ronin,” called Sybil Loyd from the front of the class. She talked with her hand raised. She did that often. Her sharp eyes were always pointed fervently at the board, breaking away only to jot down quick, succinct notes in her tablet. Her gaze was just as fervent today, but it seemed even more so to Peter. He used the last class to further denounce Shannon. He called it his personal story about his near fatal encounter with a Would, and why the Denunciation Act was so necessary. This one, Peter thought, will work for the D.A.E. one day. He could see that Sybil relished the idea of swift and terrible justice executed on those wicked enough to do evil. It goes a step further than that, though, doesn’t it? Peter thought. The D.A.E. definitely went a step further than justice. The D.A.E. offered safety, protection, and certainty.
“Yes, well, the Purge occurred the same year as the Denunciation Act. People were, uh,
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