Stay Still, Count: Protocol After the Siren - by Cole Harlan

The glove stops at the small of Cole’s back half a second longer than the manual allows. After that, sir is still a usable word if nobody looks too long. Before the pause there is only a sealed post, a fourth siren that is not a drill, and oil on a boot Marcus can turn into ink. Marcus is command. Marcus is also the man who married Cole’s mother. The camera Cole mounted himself still faces the door. Family housing sits inside the wire. A joke in the lower bay has already traveled up a stairwell. Refusal is not free. A letter would reach her. A board would rename the household. Marcus offers internal handling and means the desk, the cloth, the count Cole is ordered not to drop. Cole stays on the mark because three meters of painted floor is geometry, not an exit.