I got my lips pursed kissing the mascarons

.

"Pavlov, I'm not asking you to risk your name. You know people in Goldenrod Hill. I just need to know how dangerous it will be if I go asking on a friend."

"Havvs, I know you're a careful man, but you don't have friends on the Hill and strangers aren't welcome. Especially if they ask questions." Pavlov said and looked equal parts embarrassed and upset. The electrician was a good man and normally helpful by nature. "Things are unsettled. Something is going on up there and nobody says what it is but it can't be good!"

"That's what worries me." Haven admitted and chose to trust the other. "My woman's best friend has a sister that went missing on the Hill. The authorities aren't investigating. They're claiming she was a sex worker that crossed her pimp and has fled and went into hiding."

"She's not the type?"

"No. Not at all."

"Give me her name. I'll ask and see if I can get the temper." Pavlov said and grunted when Haven embraced him. "No promises. If the locals agree with guv I won't get any more than that."

"But if they don't?"

"I'll get a name for you. Someone trustworthy to contact."

"Thank you, comrade!"

"You can show your thanks by not getting nicked for asking what guv won't." Pavlov said and pocketed the money Haven offered him to pay the potential informant. "You've been down for me before and I think I like you best left alive."

.

Because he was skilled labor and liable to be called for extra shifts, Haven had a Class 4 curfew exemption. As long as he wasn't caught doing anything suspicious he could move more freely than most. His investigation was going to take a toll on his sleep but he was young and fit. Fatigue was not a thing he was unfamiliar with.

On the topic of unfamiliar, the Ministries of Information and Security constantly moved its agents and officers from precinct to precinct. Assignments were normally three months in duration. They thought themselves clever; that this would avoid the possibility of their people becoming too friendly with the local citizenry. What it did instead was create a situation where patrolling officers weren't familiar enough with the area to be able to recognize anything out of the ordinary. And because any 'incident' required extensive paperwork, these officers were loathe to inquire too deeply and thus potentially have extra work to do. Particularly since detaining a citizen that proved to be innocent actually doubled the paperwork.

They placed too much reliance on cameras. Especially when workers all dressed essentially the same and the weather made wearing hats a necessity. The cameras were also well known to work poorly in dim light, fog, mist, rain, snow, all those things that were common half of each day and most of the year.

Haven Culyagaer was an unremarkable sight. An industrial worker with the armband of a skilled technician with a curfew exemption. People like him were proper and upright citizens. They valued the chance to serve the Fatherland and were honored to be able to contribute to the glory of the nation.

Haven Culyagaer felt none of that but understood his situation and was acutely aware of the obligations of appearances. He was supposed to be excited at the prospect of becoming a master lathe operator and being granted the right to vote. But since there was only one party to vote for he didn't see the point.

Nonetheless, when he went to the black marketeers he always carried his tool bag with the false bottom. Any security goon that stopped him wouldn't know that the weight was off or that most of his tools were worn out cast-offs given to "good workers" to sell for scrap.

"The guv is trying to alienate the Ozziris from their allies. So if we declare war the alliance treaties won't be honored. This ain't about bloody economics! It's about finding any excuse to start a war!"

"They're the ones provocating!"

"That's not even a word, you absolute imper! Why would they do all this shite the state news is claiming? What's the purpose? What's for them to gain?"

Haven stood within "guilt proximity" of sedition and treason. He didn't care. Wasn't worried in the least because there was no place of guaranteed safety for an average citizen. Not even in the military or government ministries. Just the prior fall there had been The Purge of Reactionary Dissidents. Thousands had been arrested in every branch and at every level of government and hundreds had been executed.

War was coming. That was not in doubt. The government broadcasted pronouncements that declared the growing threats that nobody outside of the government saw or understood. This wasn't new. It wasn't anything that hadn't happened before. All he could do was do his job, do it well, and make himself of value that way.

At the moment he stood, in a cold evening with snow just beginning to fall, waiting for his love. She was his purpose. His belief. His only true allegiance was to her. Everything else deserved only that part of him that wore the mask necessary for the moment. She was the only truth that he knew.

"Comrade, do you have any tobacco?"

"Sorry brother, no. Excuse me!" Haven said and, having spied his sole hope, began working his way through the crowd. There was a pattern to the chaos. The vendors stalls weren't as haphazard as they appeared to be to an outsider. The pattern was different on the ground than it appeared from above. Security forces attempting a raid would find pursuit impossible while the very deliberate confusion would appear totally random.

They came together near a sausage vendor. He hadn't eaten since morning but didn't notice the savory smell of the goods on offer. All his senses were fixed upon her. Her dark hair was mostly tucked up beneath the wool cap he'd had made for her. She wore the parka trimmed in rabbit fur that he'd saved six months to buy. Her eyes were as deep brown as coffee and just as warm.

"Haven my heaven!" She said and then they were embracing and his world was balanced perfectly. "My darling, how are you not half frozen in that coat! We need to get you better!"

"It's warmer than it looks." He lied as he breathed in her scent and savored the silken touch of her hair against his cheek. "Gods, you smell good!"

"As do you."

"Nonsense! I reek of oil and grease!"

"You always do. But I smell you beneath it." She said and he believed. Because he believed everything that Ursula Sergionova said. She was his goddess. "Do you want to hear about Mirrabella now, or should it wait?"

"Mirrabella Kaslauskienè?" He said and reluctantly stepped back a pace. "Is she alright? What's going on?"

"Her sister Kyriena has went missing. And it doesn't appear to be the government's doing." Ursula said and bestowed a quick kiss upon his lips. "Her flat was ransacked. Everything of any value was taken. Including gloves and scarves. That's something that state security agents always overlook in their looting."

"She the one who preferred dating married men?"

"Sadly, yes."

"Maybe she attracted the attention of an anti-decadence committee. Or the Moral Enforcers. Except they prefer to make public examples." He said and with a force of will kept his attention on the topic and not fixated on his beloved. "Rauthheiner, who works a press near me, he has a cousin who's with the Perversion Prevention Vigilance Force. He says they've been getting bold. Government is ignoring their work."

"Is your comrade a supporter?"

"Johann? No! He's a decent fellow. His mother's side seems to tend to extremism though." He said and barely heard the cathedral bells ringing the hour. His whole world was but a single step away. "Where does Kyriena live?"

"Goldenrod Hill. I think on Rookers Avenue." Ursula said and took his hand in hers. "Let's walk. You look half frozen."

"I don't feel cold at all. You're my fire. You are my summer sun. All I feel is happy."

"That's not what your red cheeks and nose say. Hey now! Watch the wandering hands, mister!" She said but clung to the hand of the arm now around her waist. "Caitlyn is staying with her parents for another week. Would you like dinner first or..."

"Food can wait. I need you. Now and always!" He said and truly felt not the least bit cold. "Thank god you live on the first floor now! I forgot my gloves. Climbing a fire escape would be torture."

"That you would gladly endure."

"Absolutely."

"I'm starting to think you might actually love me."

"Thoughts are unreliable." He said and smiled like he did for no other. "Deeds are proof. And I intend to prove myself all night."

"I'm going to hold you to that." She said and there was no city, no looming war, no fears or danger. There was only her.

.

"Someday we'll get that residency permit." He whispered some hours after midnight. "We won't have to wait for a roommate to be elsewhere. Nor sneak through windows or up back stairs."

"And then you'll grow tired of me and realize that...what are you doing?"

"Will you marry me?" He asked gently as he knelt next to the bed and offered up his open hands to her. "When the restrictions are lifted will you be mine? Will you be my wife?"

"You're serious!" She said with eyes wide and a stunned look upon her face. "You said that you didn't believe in any government mandated institutions!"

"I believe in you. In us. I believe that you are forever in my heart and I want to be yours." He said and kept his hands open and waiting. "I don't care about morality or the declarations of church or state. I want to marry you so that all the world will know that I am yours."

"Haven Lugan Culyagaer. Yes. I will marry you. You are the only man I have ever wanted, needed, truly loved." She said and placed her hands in his. He closed his fingers around her warmth and was filled with a joy unlike anything he had ever known. "Ursula Culyagaer. I like how that sounds. Very much."

"Not as elegant as Ursula Sionessen Sergionova, but I can't legally take your name."

"My mother's ghost is probably absolutely gobsmacked. She said you'd never do it."

"She expected me to propose after the second date." He said and let joy become bliss. "As though I could have if I'd wanted to."

The kommissar had wanted, quite obviously so, to impose guilt through association upon him. Unfortunately for that murderous sadist, unlike his brother Haven Culyagaer was of clear value to the government. He was a skilled machinist and lathe operator and with the country's industrial output clearly gearing up for war, his profession and certified level of skill made him more use alive than as a 'warning'.

Haven saw only a dark future ahead. He had no faith in the government, his country, or his fellow citizens, but that didn't matter. His mother had suffered loss enough already. He wouldn't bring her more pain. Not as long as his actions were still his own.

.

"You know you're enabling the enemy, Havv? You make the guns that will kill people just like us!"

"Shut the hell up, Cirro! What is wrong with you?"

"Well it's true! Staiigher Forgeworks makes the Mk17GP machineguns and..."

"Yes, and Ruhfler Mills, where you work, makes the cloth that will be made into the uniforms that will be worn by those killers you just mentioned!'

"That's different! Clothes don't kill!"

"No? Well naked soldiers don't fight wars!"

"Bloody goddamn hell! 'They're Always Watching', 'They're Always Listening'! Those aren't just fucking slogans for the fucking posters! Are you in a rush to be murdered as well? They'll call you terrorists or insurgents! There are no martyrs or heroes unless the government decrees it!"

"Haven, at least think about Ursula!"

"Shut! Up! Shut the bloody fucking well up! You utter ass! He buried his brother yesterday!"

Haven looked at his friends and couldn't say what he saw. Because he knew what they all, every last one including him, would look like if they were arrested and charged with "activities indicating an anti-patriotic sentiment". There would be no court nor trial. If you were arrested you were guilty. They wouldn't arrest you if you were innocent. That was the new narrative. That's how it was. The Grand and Exalted Leader made no mistakes. By default, those who served in His Name made no mistakes either. They carried out The Will of His Greatness. Mistakes were what traitors called swift and just punishment.

"Haven, my comrade, my deepest sympathy and please ignore Cirro. He's worried they'll redesignate his job as non-exempt under the expansion of conscription."

"I know, Rupp. I know. He's an ass, but he's OUR ass." Haven said and smiled at Ruprecht Brennering. The older man was the moral and emotional anchor of their group. Rupp knew how it had been. The man saw more than the others. "They want to start a war but keep putting out directives that declare that half the population aren't 'true citizens'. If they listen to themselves it's going to be a small army, not capable of defeating anyone."

"That will change the day they declare war. Mark my words." Rupp said as he prepared his pipe. The older man's job on the docks provided him the luxury of tobacco. "The very day it starts they will proclaim that it is the duty of all to protect the Fatherland and carry it forward to glorious victory."

"They've done it before?"

"They've done it before."

"And it will work again?"

"Of course it will work again. We aren't allowed to remember the past." Rupp said after matching his pipe and drawing it to life. "I remember because I had already left school before the new history was created. They'll put the people who aren't 'true citizens' into units led by fanatics who will spend lives like water. People like us will bleed so that people like them won't have to."

"You say that aloud after what you just said to Cirro?"

"Yes. I do." Rupp said and patted Haven's shoulder. "But I say it quietly and to a man that I know I can trust."

.

"Clagger! What church do you attend?"

Haven turned the water off in the work sink and quickly toweled his short cut hair before straightening. "Church? No church, boss. Church is for people who want to give money away, not make it."

"You weren't raised religious?" The foreman pressed and kept back. He was, unlike Haven, neither sweaty nor filthy. "Your folks didn't follow the Word?"

"I was raised to respect hard work. Not the beggars promising heaven to all these lazy damn drains upon society." Haven said with the appropriate amount of fervor. He didn't have to believe the words in order to mean them. "People with enough time for church but not enough time to work for their keep? No, boss. Got no use for that kind!"

"You're a proper one, Clagger. It's good to know that you're reliable." The foreman said and did a slow look around to make sure none were lurking near. "Well, we are going to have extra shifts for Sunday work coming up soon. I'm guessing you're interested. It will pay time-plus. Can I put you down for it?"

"Time-plus? Oh, please do! I definitely want the work!" Haven said as he tossed the dirty towel into the laundry bag by the sink. "I appreciate you thinking of me and giving me the opportunity, boss!"

"I'll put you on the list, comrade. I'm pleased to see that you have the proper patriotic attitude." The foreman said and made a mark upon the clipboard that he held. "I know you know better than to tell others of your luck."

"It's none of their business what is said as you to me." Haven said and saluted the foreman with a fist held to his chest. "Thank you for the honor boss!"

"You're welcome, comrade. Now then, well, enjoy your evening. But not too much. I know that you always arrive on time ready to work. That's a virtue. Don't turn away from it!"

"Never, boss!" Haven said and saluted the foreman and held it until the man nodded and turned away, but then a bit longer as well.

'They're Always Watching'.

Haven Culyagaer knew without a doubt that it was, as Rupp had said, the truth and not merely an empty slogan.

.

"Comrade. The hounds on ya?:

"No. Just a small dog." Haven said to a machinist he only knew by sight. The night shift was entering through the gates as the day shift crowded through the exit turnstiles. "No teeth touched me."

"Luck on you." The man said and let it be. The code of the workers was subtle but clear. You never asked just what a comrade had done to draw the attention of bosses, or what they had been told.

Small dogs just yapped. Noise without consequences. It happened all the time. Actual mistakes meant being censured or written up. Being bit. Anything else? Anything a boss told you that wasn't announced to all? You didn't talk of those things ever. 'Dispensing information that could potentially create dissatisfaction amongst workers' was a crime originally targeted at union organizers and political activists. Now it covered anything that management saw as having even the smallest chance of fomenting dissent or resistance to orders.

Haven looked at the inbound shift. Dressed in well worn but clean overalls. All those leaving wore grease and oil stains held in place by their own overalls. Every day was the same. Every day the evidence of who did the real work, who made the factory run and be productive, was on display at dawn and dusk. Every payday the proof of who held actual value was illustrated by the paymaster.