Uprising
Page 79
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A bored technician by the name of Bernard stared lazily at the screens. Dozens of sensors and a quantity of cameras scattered about Haven created what was jokingly referred to as a 'grid of compliance.' The sensors detected heat signatures and was used by the Inquisition for various things.
The main reason, as they claimed, was to clear people out so that night-staff servants could clean the streets of various sectors when necessary. It was found that people were generally uncomfortable being around when dozens of these half-mindless drones ambled through the streets picking up trash and scrubbing the sidewalks.
Of course, this meant that they had a means of detecting the presence of lingering folks with surveillance for confirmation. A dispatch of Inquisitors on patrol could then stop by and politely ask people to move along. This had been happening for a couple of years, so most Citizens grew accustomed to it and ended up indoors by a decent hour anyway. To accommodate and encourage this attitude, most housing complexes had their own social gathering places: bars, clubs, and other entertainment pavilions. Even the taxi services were required to discontinue in the evening, and driving late at night was discouraged.
The system also assisted to keep an eye on any potential criminal activity, which still occurred from time to time. They seemed pretty keen on eliminating any hint of any riff-raff as quickly as possible. Citizen Bernard could remember back when the separation started, and he wholeheartedly agreed that a little preventative surveillance was more than acceptable to keep everything safe.
It didn't bother Citizen Bernard that infrareds and cameras could see into every sector of the city, making it possible to monitor every aspect of the outdoor lives of the Citizens. It made decent sense to him, and he figured it would never bother him if he remained a good and loyal Citizen.
What he and most others hadn't heard was that there were plans brewing in the Inquisition office to outfit the interiors of certain buildings with similar extensive security measures, even though the crime rate had nearly dropped to nothing. The Inquisition even wanted to outfit every Citizen with a personal tracking device so that every one of them could be located at any necessary point. Registrations, tags, and dozens of other proposals about invading privacy in favor of security were among Inquisition discussion that Bernard, and everyone else not affiliated with the policing body, was entirely unaware of.
As time went on, there was less and less to worry about and report on from the night security center. Certain systems became programmed and automated to detect the signs and patterns of a disturbance or to keep track of which sectors were scheduled for cleaning. Thus, the presence of graveyard-shift technicians became less necessary.
Someone, however, still had to be present to keep an eye on everything. Over the years, staffing had shrunk down to be one person during the night shift. Half of the workers slept through it, which seemed just fine, and Bernard himself was known to take a nap or two if the situation called for it.
When he heard the faint tone of a disturbance warning, he felt a flare of irritation, as the stupid machine probably malfunctioned in some fashion again and needed recalibration. Damn thing's too sensitive, he thought. He opened his eyes and glanced up at the screen. A long train of heat signatures had spilled out of a building in the west-central sector of the city, near to the business district.
For several seconds, Bernard stared at the rapid movement of the group, cutting down empty streets and seeming to avoid contact with the other blips on his map. He punched in some keys, and a monitor popped up that displayed a surveillance shot: running figures, wearing black.
He rifled through log sheets and stacks of other miscellaneous papers on the desk, trying to see if there was some memo from the Inquisition about something going on. He remembered a few nights prior when one of the other workers had called in about some big group moving near the Institute, which turned out to be a force of soldiers going on a planned raid.
Better safe than sorry, he thought, reaching for the phone. As he grabbed it, another warning chime sounded. Another location, still in the business district but a distance east of the previous one, displayed dozens of heat signatures spilling out into the streets.
A cold sweat broke over his body, and he grabbed the phone, a growing apprehension gnawing at the pit of his stomach. He jumped as a third blare came through. His jaw dropped as it returned to the first location, and another large group began moving into the streets.
This can't be good, he thought, finally punching in the numbers to contact the Inquisition dispatch office.