End The LightCatcher

  Chapter 13

  Vocations

  Seven thousand recruits squeezed into a large auditorium where a presentation was to be made. Just outside, End had found Arnold to have a private word with him.

  “Arnold, if I get selected by one of these vocations, does it mean that my normal rights as a citizen can be returned to me?”

  Arnold looked at End. He knew what was in End’s mind, but he also had to tell him the truth.

  “Here are some facts I am not sure if you are aware of. You are supposed to have faced the Sphere of Influence but for some reason you didn’t. And so now you are serving a military sentence to serve the ILC indefinitely. You have no credits, and no citizenship rights up to this point. This I am sure you are aware of.”

  “I am aware of this Arnold.”

  “And even after you pass the ILC’s basic LightCatching Course, you will still be subjected to these very same rules. However, you are right to say that once one of these vocations have selected you, you will have a job in society. As you are then classified as a person contributing to society because you will be paid, you may have your citizenship back.”

  End smiled.

  “That’s all I needed to know, Arnold.”

  “Hold on. But what you need to focus on right now, is still passing the ILC’s Basic LightCatching course.”

  “I will of course Arnold.”

  “How are you doing for the Dark Obstacles course?”

  “I still can’t do it. But I will.”

  “Don’t lose focus. Pay attention to what is before you first, before thinking too far ahead. When you are good enough, you will eventually be selected.”

  End nodded, but Arnold knew the stubborn mind of End sometimes did not hear what he was telling him.

  “And I get to return to the city on the weekends if I get selected by them?” asked End.

  “Get to your seat!” said Arnold. He had no patience for those who did not listen.

  End didn’t really care which vocation he was interested in. He would gladly join anyone of them if it means he could have a tiniest bit of freedom back. End went to his seat. He was excited. To him the ILC was another prison, and although he had become quite a good LightCatcher, he really wanted to leave. He knew that he did not enjoy any military training, and all he ever wanted to do was study more of the Olden Form of LightCatching.

  Arnold walked to the front of all the recruits. Arnold called for attention, and everyone sat up straight. Some high-ranking officers entered the room. Amon Goth entered the room last. He went straight to the stage and spoke to everyone.

  “How was the training so far? In case some of you don’t know, your skills will be assessed during your final LFC field camp, where the role best suited for you will be decided. So what exactly are the different roles you can play in the Light Brigade? Today we are very fortunate to have with us, the commanders of each vocations to give a short presentation of their respective vocations. The first one will be Commander Chuck from Artillery

  The background flashed the symbol of the Artillery of Light vocation. The word “Colonel Eastwood” flashed across the screen. As he stood there, he gave everyone in the room his legendary squint. He caught sight of End and stopped for a moment. End looked back at him, and Colonel Eastwood never liked people who looked back at him. He cocked his head sideways, ready to express how he felt, when Beef let out a laugh. Then sharp as a bird’s neck, Eastwood’s eyes were now directly on Beef.

  “Oh, your laughter just made my day, sonny. Stand up!” said Colonel Eastwood in his raspy voice.

  Beef stood up straight.

  “I don’t think it’s nice you’re laughing. What’s your name punk?”

  “Beef?”

  “Alright you dumb cow. Maybe you’re new here so let me give you some advice. People who know me, know that for twenty years, I ate concertina wire pancakes with napalm syrup. So on the day, you decide to stare at me the way you just did, you have to ask yourself one question, what do you think are your chances of leaving this auditorium alive, punk?”

  “…I…”

  Eastwood looked at a sergeant Navajo seated down.

  “You, make sure this cow research on Artillery and make a presentation to every unit in this camp by the end of this week. Comprende?”

  “Yes sir.” Replied Sergeant Navajo.

  And with that, Eastwood walked off. Beef’s jaw almost fell to the floor with the amount of work he had been given. End shook his head at the stupidity of Beef. End was also not particularly interested in the Artillery of Light Division.

  The next person to give a presentation was none other than Colonel King. As he walked up the stage, he seemed to carry this swagger like he was full of confidence, and about to comb his gelled up hair and turn to give a photo moment for the recruits. Everyone in the room liked him instantly. As he spoke, he seemed to have to carry around this rock star swagger. He bent down to put his mouth to the microphone. Colonel King had a strong Tennessee accent, and his voice was like a melody.

  “Wise men say…” he began to sing. Someone applauded.

  “Thank you very much. As good as I am in singing, I’m not singing today. Sorry folks at home. I’m here to present for the Signal division, but as you can see, you don’t have to have great looks, but…”

  He paused. I swore, he paused for a moment like some Rock star during an interview just before he was to score some public relation points.

  “…but you got to have a great voice. Thank you very much!”

  Amon Goth had that expression on his face like it wasn’t a really complete speech. Sometimes, he just did not understand his Colonels. Maybe he was too benevolent as a chief of army.

  End looked at King. He remembered Sergeant Benjamin Navajo. He recalled that Billy was a rather good signaler and would excel there, but this was going to be the one for himself as well.

  As King went down the stage, the walls behind the stage crumbled down, and a large robot broke through. Behind the robot, was Dr Brown, in his usual mad scientist outfit. When he spoke, he had a husky voice for rambling random mathematical equations to sound like a mad scientist. His voice gave other people the impression that he was not a confident man.

  “Hi. Dr Brown, Colonel as well, but you can call me Doc. The Combat Engineers of Light recently merged with the Armor division to form the “Armored E” division, so here I am. I mean, here we are. I thought that a robot is worth a thousand words, so here is Little Lightfoot. Abbreviation for Light Foot Soldier. It is a first generation light powered robot, and when I say light of course I don’t mean solar, I mean emo-light. This baby can do many things!”

  Dr Brown snapped his fingers, and the robot started to do a shuffle dance.

  “No! No! No!” said an embarrassed Dr Brown. Actually the robot danced very well, and Colonel King was jealous. The recruits laughed and cheered. Dr Brown looked at Amon and smiled at him, very sorry for this mishap. Dr Brown had no choice but to use his viewfinder to absorb the electricity out of the robot.

  “I am dreadfully sorry for that. I don’t know how it happened. Must be my students. Anyways, the robot’s down, so I be happy to take any of questions to fill up the next five minutes of my scheduled presentation.”

  Beef raised his hand. He seemed determined to be the center of attention.

  “Yes, you big guy!”

  “Is time travel possible?”

  The question was shot out of the blue and into the dark. No one saw that coming. Everyone in the room gave Beef a peculiar stare, and no one understood why he would ask such a question. Dr Brown gave a perplexed look as well. Though it would have been simpler to say “I don’t know”, the mad scientist inside him simply had to speak up to try and answer this question.

  “Well…”

  Dr Brown began a very long lecture on the possibilities of time travel, using his viewfinder to project sketches of mathematical equations and took really too long to prove that it can exist. To be hones
t, for every recruit inside the room, everything after the word “Well” was a blur. Beef did not seem to understand any of the equations either. Finally after about half an hour, and after the snoring orchestra of the recruits could be heard, Dr Brown ended his explanations.

  “So after all that, does time travel exist?” asked Beef.

  “Well…”

  “Wait. No, don’t explain it. Just summarize it, yes or no?”

  “The answer is…maybe.”

  Beef seemed disappointed with the answer.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Well, theoretically, the probability of Time travel is pegged, and proportional to our understanding or advancement in the studies of Light. If you can master light, if you can travel faster than light, then you can time travel.”

  Dr Brown saw Amon Goth signaling the “wrap it up quickly” hand signal, and he knew his presentation time was up.

  “That aside, the Armored E Division is always looking for talent. We are always looking for bright young people who want to explore light with us. So, yeah, thank you. Thank you!”

  Dr Brown tapped the robot on the shoulder to tell it to leave the stage, but the robot continued dancing and shuffling all the way down. Dr brown shook his head.

  Just then, Andy and Larry went up and stuck a little sticker on side of the robot. The robot stopped, and started walking down with proper steps.

  “How did you do that?” asked Dr Brown with a kind smile.

  “That’s not all we got. Show him Andy.” Said Larry.

  “We have heard about your Armored E division for a long-long time. we are very interested. Here are some of our designs, this one is a 360 degree camera for the Lightfoot.”

  “We call it the Geta!”

  “You mean after the DJ?” asked Dr Brown.

  “Wow, he knows Geta!” said Andy

  “He is cool.”

  “Way cooler than us!” said Larry.

  Andy, Larry and Dr Brown went to a corner and went on and on chatting about everything they had in common. End saw it. He knew that the Wa Brothers and the Armored E division would be a match in heaven. But he was not interested in it. He had no particular interest in building more weapons.

  Meanwhile the next presenter prepared to come on stage. The next presenter seemed more composed. No fancy robots or great hair or voice, just the simple Colonel Chuck. As he spoke, he had a rather soft voice for someone who was trying to sound menacing.

  “I was once accidentally thrown out of a plane without a parachute.”

  He paused, remained composed as he was and continued.

  “I landed and went to get a beer.”

  “How did you do that?” some random recruit asked.

  “There was a pub nearby.”

  “No. I mean how did you land?”

  The man gave the recruit a serious spaghetti western cowboy look, complete with his beady eyes hidden inside too much beard.

  “I landed safely, because Chuck isn’t afraid of hitting the ground but the ground is afraid of hitting chuck.”

  There was an awkward silence in the room. Everybody was not sure if they should laugh, or if it was a joke. Colonel Chuck, as we now know him as, continued to use his beady fierce eyes to look at everyone. Even Colonel Eastwood mumbled “Awkward” under his breath.

  “No seriously, how did you do it?” asked someone from the crowd.

  Chuck smiled.

  “Alright. I thought about the person I loved most.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yup.”

  “How does that work?”

  “Because in life, she is my parachute.”

  Everyone in the room looked as confused as ever. Even Amon Goth swallowed his saliva. Thinking that the silence was an awe of appreciation, Colonel Chuck continued to his second piece of monologue.

  “Did you guys know who the Golden Gurkhas are?”

  There was a wave of murmurs between “yes-es” and “no-s”.

  “Golden Gurkhas are some of the toughest soldiers to have ever walked this earth. You don’t fight a Gurkhas ever, because the moment you see one, you are already dead. I met a Gurkhas once.”

  He paused again as he believed it was for dramatic effect.

  “And we fought for three days and three nights without sleeping.”

  He paused and tried too hard to look like a tough cowboy in front of everyone.

  “After three days of fighting, I finally slept.”

  There was no possible response to this.

  “So, how did you do it?” shouted someone.

  “Oh, that’s easy, I was tired.”

  “No. How did you defeat the Gurkhas?”

  Chuck gave everyone the intense look once more. It was the same cool look that made everyone wince once.

  “Because Chuck is from the Guards Division of Light. Thank you.”

  Colonel Chuck left the stage. It was so cold in that auditorium that a penguin with a fur coat would have frozen to death. End could feel that despite his strangeness, Colonel Chuck was actually a genuine and nice person. Perhaps he really just didn’t get what was going on socially because his presentation was a little out of fashion. It was not cool or funny, as the silence continued to linger in that hall. This presentation was horrible, and for once, the presenter put End off about considering for this vocation. Having had all of these thoughts, he maintained his position that should any of them come knocking, he would be a fool to deny his own freedom.

  Amon Goth came on to the stage to end the dry silence left by Colonel Chuck.

  “Thank you, dear Colonels. I believe we have one more presenter. Snakeskin.”

  Amon looked at a soldier that was seated in the front row with his arms folded. End recognized him as the man with an eye-patch who rescued him out of the chamber and away from Sphere of influence. Snakeskin pretended that he did not hear Amon’s call.

  “The rest of the commandoes are currently deployed, so I would like to invite Master Sergeant Snakeskin to talk a little about the Commandos of Light.”

  It took tremendous effort for Snakeskin to make it up on the stage. He took his time, and dragged everyone’s time through mud. He really hated the limelight. End could feel that Snakeskin was a very secretive and introverted person by nature. Snakeskin really looked like someone who would even treat eating breakfast as a covet mission. He seemed unnatural on stage.

  “I like my job. Thank you.” Said Snakeskin as he began to walk down the stairs.

  “Please be more serious!” said Amon Goth.

  “Why?”

  Snakeskin began to walk down the stage. Amon Goth got up and began to advance towards Snakeskin with great speed. The rest of the Colonels ran forward to stop the collision of two great egos. Amon Goth grabbed Snakeskin by the arm, and whispered into his ears. End could hear it though.

  “For goodness sake, you are also from the Light Brigade. Conduct yourself with some dignity please.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Go up there and finish your presentation proper.”

  “No.”

  “Get up there or I will demote you.”

  Snakeskin looked Amon straight in the eye.

  “Do what you like.”

  “Hey Skin, ease up a little, buddy.” Said Colonel King.

  “I risk my life like everybody else in that war, and all of you get to be Colonels.” Said Snakeskin.

  “Come on. Don’t be this way, Skin.” Said Dr Brown.

  “Get up there now! This is your last chance!” said Amon Goth.

  “I wonder if you would have made Joseph a Colonel or a Master sergeant.”

  All of the Colonel’s eyebrows were raised at the time same time. They rushed to grab Amon. Together they had to hold him down for what he might do to Snakeskin. “Its not worth it.” Said Dr Brown. All of this was because they knew what was coming. Amon Goth struggled a little bit but managed to relax himself. The name “Joseph” must be of some signific
ance to him, thought End. Amon calmed himself down and spoke to Snakeskin back in his very measured voice.

  “You are de-commissioned from the ILC. If you are ever seen at our premises after today, you shall be considered trespassing and shot on sight.”

  “Amon, no!” said Chuck.

  Amon left the auditorium. Snakeskin turned around and walked off. Who was Joseph and why is he so important, was the question that echoed in End’s head.

  In the evenings, there was a rumor going about, saying that the colonels were at the office’s mess, a place for officers to chill out. Arnold came to End’s platoon that evening as they were cleaning their rifles.

  “I need a volunteer for Officer Mess duty,” said Arnold. Everyone tried to look away. Only End was sharp. As soon as Arnold was looking in his direction, he pretended to be snoring.

  “Good. Thank you for volunteering, End!”

  End pretended to sigh.

  “Well, get to the Officer’s mess!

  And so End was sent for the additional duty. He entered the officer’s mess. The place was like an open café and pub where only officers were allowed. If you were an officer, I bet you would enjoy its facilities. It had a Sky pool table, which was basically the game of snooker played with a hovering snooker table, where the white ball would be hit using shots of light energy from your VF, replacing the cue stick. For some of you who don’t play billiard or Snooker, perhaps you could fancy your chances at the Dart Board of Light, where you use your VF to generate a dart and throw it on to the dart board. This game in particular was gaining a lot of fans worldwide ever since players could join an online network of players worldwide. As End found out, such a wonderful place, had to have some waiters moving around, taking orders or serving, and who better to exploit than fresh recruits who had free time in the evenings.

  As End entered the kitchen area, he saw Uncle E. Uncle E was not too excited to see him.

  “You again? Duty?”

  “Yes. You work here too?”

  “More income. Look, I don’t want you messing with the kitchen to degrade my quality of cooking, so I’ll cook, and you just go out to take orders.”

  End went out. He saw that all the Colonels were here. Colonel King was acing at the darts game, and a crowd of officers had built up around the ever-popular man. Colonel Eastwood and Chuck were the more quiet ones as they sat down to have beer. Dr brown was repairing the floating Snooker table. End had the naïve thinking that if he could somehow get close to the Colonels, he could convince them to take him into one of their divisions.

  “Kiddo, come here.” Said Eastwood as he saw End.

  “Yes sir,” said End.

  “Me and Chuck are going to have a dozen of City of Lion’s Brew, premium ones, not the cheap ones. King wants to have Honey and water, he wants to save his voice for singing.”

  “I want some food,” said Chuck.

  “You don’t want food, We going to drink.” Said Eastwood.

  “I want food.”

  “Suit yourself, you pansy! We are all men here, we are here to drink! Goodness!”

  “I want a bowl of Mee Bok.”

  “They don’t have it,” said a grumpy Eastwood.

  “They do. Uncle E’s in the kitchen.” Said Chuck.

  “That scrooge? He is still working here?”

  “Sure is,” said Colonel King who had just rejoined the table.

  “Sure am, here’s your noodles” said Uncle E as he came out with the bowl of noodles.”

  “Just like the old times.” Smiled Chuck as he tired to high five Uncle E and missed. Uncle E gave a glare at End.

  “Move faster, take an order and get it to me. What did they want?” asked Uncle E.

  “12 beers.”

  “Of course they want 12 beers. Which ones?”

  “City of Lion’s brew.”

  “Stop making me ask all the questions. The premium or the cheap?”

  “Premium.”

  “My goodness, am I working for you?” asked Uncle E, “It’s one thing, not paying me my $24.15 back, but it’s another to slow down my business.”

  “Hey, stop bullying the kid,” said Eastwood.

  “He’s a slow guy.” Said Uncle E.

  “You’re a slow guy. As of now, he’s not working tonight. Do you drink, boy?” asked Eastwood. It was safe to assume that the grumpy Eastwood was now a little merry from the drinking.

  “…I…”

  Uncle E looked at End.

  “Say yes.” Advised Chuck.

  “Yes.” Said End.

  “The boy drinks! With us!” Said Eastwood. The Colonels cheered. Uncle E grabbed his hair in frustration.

  “Hey Stop mucking around the machine and come here. Beer is coming.” Said Eastwood to Dr brown. Dr Brown walked over to grab a seat.

  “What do you think would be his agenda for this AGM?” asked Dr Brown.

  “Probably more smoke and mirrors. They just want to mask their true intentions of getting more bang for the buck off selling their new buckshot.” said Colonel Eastwood. He gulped a beer down in one shot.

  “What the heck did you just say?” asked The King with a strange expression on his face as he rejoined the group.

  “Hey sonny, it’s not like I understand your Tennessee accent any day.”

  “Is that bullets in your eyes?” said King.

  “Buckshots.”

  “Maybe we outta do a little less conversation, and a little more action please.” Said King.

  King and Eastwood got up off their seats ready to fight. All the officers in the mess came over to separate them. Some began to place bets. Uncle E came with the beer. Beer was always the solution, though it didn’t seem to work today. Uncle E was afraid of a fight. Any damages to the place, and his pay-check would be affected.

  Chuck spoke.

  “There was once I saw two people fighting in an Officer’s Mess.”

  Both King and Eastwood looked at him. “And?” asked Eastwood

  “And I went home.”

  “What about the fight?” asked The King.

  “What fight?”

  “The two people fighting in the Officer’s Mess?” said King.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “You just said there are two people that are about to fight in a Officer’s Mess.” Said Eastwood.

  “Did I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, do you see anybody fighting in the Officer’s Mess?” asked Chuck.

  “No.”

  “Exactly my point. Now sit down.”

  Chuck’s whirlwind of confusion tactics worked. Eastwood and King were so confused that they forgot why they even got up. They sat down, and Eastwood handed King a beer, which had arrived. Problem resolved, and the two men were now drinking. End didn’t understand this dynamic in their relationship. Colonels could be really strange creatures some times.

  “The wonders of confusion” said Dr Brown.

  “What’s your name boy?” Eastwood looked at End.

  “End.”

  “You messing with me, boy? You feel lucky?”

  “I think that really is his name.” said King.

  “But you know what? The strangest name I have ever heard is still Amon. What kind of a name is Amon.” Said Chuck.

  “Hey, did you see him just now? I have not seen him that angry for a long time.”

  “Emotions, my friend, we all have emotions.” Said Dr Brown.

  “But he is a really controlled guy.”

  “We don’t control emotions. We suppress them.” Said Dr Brown.

  “Who is Joseph?” asked End.

  The Colonels paused for a moment. They didn’t think the boy would dare to speak in the presence of Colonels.

  “You got the marbles, boy. You talking in a conversation with Colonels?” asked King.

  The Colonels all looked at End, waiting for his next move.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Keep it
up. I didn’t think you would dare. If you’re coming into the ILC, you better man up.”

  “You better down this one!” said Chuck as he shoved a beer into End’s hands. End looked at the beer.

  “You said you drink right?”

  “I never drank before.” Answered End.

  Eastwood put an arm around End’s shoulders.

  “High time you learn.” Said Eastwood, as he knocked End’s glass of beer with his own, as a toast for him to drink up. End put the glass to his lips and drank. The Colonels saw it and drank up as well. End was gulping the beer down, all in a shot. The Colonels were pleased.

  “It’s pretty good.” Said End.

  “It’s refreshing.” Said King.

  “Welcome to manhood.” Said Chuck.

  “Now you’re one of us. And we can answer your question.” Laughed Eastwood. He was becoming very jolly.

  “Joseph was Amon’s brother. He died when the Light Brigade, that’s us, fought the Dark Monday Terrorists.” Said Dr Brown.

  “Why is he so angry with Snakeskin?” asked End.

  “Amon blamed Snakeskin for Joseph’s death. Snakeskin was a nicotine addict. At a critical moment in the battle, his cravings came back. He smoked and didn’t provide cover for Joseph.” Said Dr Brown.

  “Joseph’s death was what drove Amon full steam ahead to make the militarized ILC a success.” Said Chuck.

  “Was the ILC not a military school to begin with?” asked End.

  The Colonels paused for a moment.

  “That’s classified information.” Said Dr Brown.

  “We’re not supposed to talk about it.” Said Chuck.

  “We’re drunk. Nobody can hear you,” Said Eastwood, whose face was getting red having downed another five beers while the conversation was going on.

  “We are not suppose to say that ILC was once an arts school.” Said Dr Brown.

  “Hey!” exclaimed King.

  “An Arts school?” asked End, “What kind of Arts school?”

  “Sonny, that’s classified information, that I think you’re better off without.” Said King.

  “Who are these guys?” asked End, as he produced the photograph of the “Eye Arts”.

  The Colonels kept quiet. Eastwood seemed angry. The mood had changed a little. End wondered if he should have done that. Eastwood went to the extent of not drinking the next glass.

  “Where did you get that photo?” asked Eastwood.

  “I found it while jogging in the forest one day. So who are they?”

  The Colonels were silent.

  “We’re not supposed to tell you that they are called the Eye Arts.” Replied Dr Brown.

  “Hey Doc, stop spilling out classified stuff.” Said King.

  “Curiosity is a curious thing. If we don’t tell him, he will find out eventually. Kids got Leakipedia these days. Sonny, the Eye Arts were ex teachers in the Old ILC. They are a bunch of cowards.” Said Eastwood, as he began drinking again. He couldn’t stop.

  “Old ILC?”

  “The ILC used to be an Arts school.” Said King, “And I used to be a performing artist myself until they made it into a military school. The teachers who refused to become soldier boys left the City.”

  “Bunch of cowards.” Said Eastwood, “Doing stupid things instead of defending the city!”

  “Yeah. I don’t like them. They are too extreme with their Olden form stuff,” said King, “Say kid, which one of our vocations you want to join after listening to our awesome presentation today?”

  The Colonels looked at End. End didn’t know what to say.

  “Yeah. Which one kid? Seeing as you are such a good drinking buddy, I’m going to invite you into the Guards Division, for a limited time offer. Right here, right now, if you say the word, you got it!”

  End’s heart was beating.

  “You can’t do that!” said King.

  “I just did. What you going to do punk?”

  “I’m going to do the same!”

  “Real wise guy!”

  “You guys can’t do that!” said Dr Brown.

  “We just did.”

  “Yeah, what you going to do punk?”

  “Well, I’m going to do the same as well,” said Dr Brown.

  “Count me in.” said Chuck.

  “I really want to see who the boy will pick.” Said Eastwood.

  The Colonels looked at End, waiting for the answer. End could hear his heart pumping. This could be his ticket to freedom in the ILC.

  “Is the Old Librarian a teacher as well?” asked End. The Colonels all paused and looked at him. They were not ready for that answer.

  “You’re not picking one of us?”

  Eastwood laughed out first.

  “Haha! I like you kid! You are a diplomat!” said Eastwood, “The kid changed the subject so he won’t offend us!”

  It could be said that the Colonels had a good impression of End that night. It was always a smart move to get on the right side of people when they were drunk.

  “Well, you are fine by me, if you ever want to go into the Artillery Division.”

  “Mine too.”

  “Yeah, mine too.”

  One by one, all of the Colonels said that End could have a slot in their division. End felt a huge relief. This was it. His ticket out of being under this military sentence might have just arrived. As End bathed in the praises and pats-on-the-back from the Colonels, he saw Arnold standing from outside the mess looking in. Arnold shook his head at End and left. But End felt victorious at his little mission.

  “And by the way Sonny. The answer to your question. The old Librarian was the principal.”

  End’s eyes lit up. Wow.

  “What happened to the principal?” asked End.

  Just then, Amon entered the Officer’s Mess. The Colonels kept quiet.

  “Hey!” greeted Amon.

  “Hey boss.” Said Chuck.

  “Sorry I’m late. I miss anything?” asked Amon.

  “Alright kid, it was nice knowing ya.” Said Eastwood, as he gestured for End to leave. End understood. He got up and prepared to leave. Uncle E still looked at him, and End could see the numbers $24.15 carved into his eyes. End left the Officer’s mess with so many questions he wanted to ask the Librarian. As he got up to leave the officer’s mess, he saw Arnold staring at him through the window. Arnold was shaking his head in disappointment.