A Cog in the Routine

At first it had caused surprise and alarm; now it was simply part of the normal flow of life. At around midday, two trucks full of guards would materialise in the square. Quietly and efficiently, they would fan out with their weapons drawn.

After the first few occasions, the customers at Sonia's Bakery learned to simply ignore them. They were doing their jobs, and tried to keep from disturbing anyone too much.

Not too long after, the Assistant Governor would arrive in a car, flanked by four guards. Unlike their counterparts, these men would be friendly, talkative - usually queuing up to order something for themselves.

The man himself, always courteous, always ordered the pie of the day and a small pot of tea. Paying in cash, he would take his order to a corner of the shop - his guards casually taking the tables close by - and eat in silence. He would finish, take his tray to the hatch, and leave.

And so it went. Until the day that Sonia asked him why he came down to the lower levels for lunch.