The dim lights of the shopfront, cast downwards onto the cobbled street, appeared almost dreamlike. Obviously they weren’t electric, nobody could afford electricity anymore, but they had the illusion of originating in the glowing bulbs he remembered from his childhood. Hastily, he moved across the empty road. He saw no cars, nor did he expect to; nobody had any need to travel long distances anymore, what with such strict travel regulations across the city it was not worth your while to leave your own block.
The door opened with a jingle of bells, and a man dressed in a red robe approached him. He had learnt to fear those robes long ago, the gold trims embezzled with diamond eagles sent chills down his spine. This wasn’t right, the man in the office hadn’t mentioned anything about beurocrats being in the place. In the candle-light the man’s face seemed gaunt and void of life. He lifted one hand up, and two other men in uniforms of the same red came forth from the dark. They had submachine guns held across their chests, and he had no doubt that they would use them. The door was his only option, but if he ran he would surely be gunned down. The men in uniforms took him by the arms, and led him to the back of the shop, the man in the robe watching from the door with a cigarette in hand.