Closed Court In the old part of town stands a foreboding brownstone building, looking like a monument founded on authority and discipline. This is my Department. And yours.
Above the enormous doors something is written in Latin about loyalty to the State – I am sure you know it by heart. You should. Crossing the wet cobbles and going up the wide stairs towards the doors and its oath of allegiance you get the sense that the building is leaning in on you, and the Classical reliefs above the leaded windows are fixing their accusing glare.
Grab the bronze handle, pause for a brief moment and indulge the instinct to look over your shoulder – knowing full well that you are being watched – and gaze up at the Palace. But why so self-aware? A guilty conscience, perhaps? Maybe even something to hide?
Worry not. Please, step inside. Tonight, I shall hear your confession. There shall be an inquiry in the service of truth and State. No one is without blame. Step inside, meet the others – they are waiting. Set aside your fears, come meet your destiny and let me lock these doors behind you...