As Drago entered the living room, he was greeted with an unexpected sight. A celebrity visitor! He'd only seen him from afar today, but looking closely, the face seemed to be quite "famous". You could mistake the man for an actor, but he really was just a local public servant. The popularity only amounted to a small fan club among Drago's classmates.

There weren't really any crimes around these parts, so he appeared on TV only a few times as a member of the administration office. An appearance fitting an aristocrat and ever graceful demeanor earned him a loyal following among the girls. And not the healthy kind…

At the moment, however, his emotionless face and cold voice seemed threatening:

— Hello, Drago. Nice jacket you’re wearing here.

— It's cool, isn't it? — Drago blurted out without a shred of a rational thought, panicking.

— … — the policeman was taken aback a bit, but didn't show it on his face. — Yes, you could say that. How about—

— UUUUUUUUUUWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOO~~~, — mother interrupted him with something between a moan and a howl. Once the call resembling an air raid siren gathered everyone's attention… it went on for a while longer.

Today's guest, by the looks of it, had already spent more than enough time in the same space with her today, so he wasn't exactly surprised. Despite his initial expression being that of perfect elegance, it crumbled - he let out a small sigh.

In any other situation it would've gone unnoticed, but Drago was focusing on the man's face like his life depended on it (which was true in a sense). It reminded him that the visitor was just another human doing his job, easing his high-strung state.

While he still had every reason to worry, he thought that in the end he would be penalized for trespassing the crime scene at most, just questioned at best. Well, he had to give up on the jacket either way, but nothing could be done about that.

At last, mother finished her "dying animal" performance. Her next words were theatrically pronounced and filled with overflowing spite:

— Look who's back! You little thief, you just marched in wearing your trophy! You just had to… — a tirade filled with insults ensued.

At first it seemed reasonable, but then it just didn't stop. Drago was used to it, so it was going in one ear and out the other, but the person from the police was at a loss. There should've been a moment to speak up and proceed with his business, but the woman just wasn't giving him an opportunity to.

Drago shamelessly got out of the similar situation with Jennie just a while ago, but the guest had a problem with this kind of approach. Despite his authoritarian job description and the general need not to waste any more time here, he was just too stubbornly polite to interrupt the person speaking, even if it was just empty nonsense.

Trapped in this stalemate, their eyes locked with each other. Completely emotionless policeman's face, Drago awkwardly biting his lips.

At this very moment a miracle happened. Two people in the room awakened a new supernatural ability of telepathy and managed to synchronize with the other's thoughts. They felt united in a desire to get out of here, but didn't act on it just yet.

The opportunity didn't seem to be coming any time soon, when the woman, smiling, briefly checked the policeman's reaction with overflowing excitement. Whatever she was expecting, the result was not to her liking. Her face crumpled, all while talking, and she decided to up her game a notch:

— …but that's what you'd expect, right? Like father, like son. The thieving blood must run in your veins. I bet you, too, will steal the company supplies when you grow up. Or even more…

The guest, absentmindedly staring at Drago's face all this time, could witness the changes on it with undivided attention. It didn't take him long to decide that there is a limit to letting a person lead a conversation however they please:

— Ma'am, — somehow, his voice was much colder than when addressing Drago earlier. — This case was dropped and all charges were lifted, identified as slander in court. And as I said earlier, Drago was handed the item—

— Ah, that, — she scoffed, not letting him finish. — You know what they say - once a thief, always—

— No.

— What? — she was surprised, finally noticing the change in the atmosphere.

— I don't know.

The man stood up and headed to the exit:

— I'll take him to the police station now, ma'am. Thanks for the tea and take care.

Drago let himself to be led outside, leaving the still idle woman to wonder in her utter confusion what could possibly cause the sudden change. He locked the door with his key and took a deep breath, letting the cold night air cool his head a bit.

He tried to reset himself and to sound as nonchalant as possible, reaching his hand for a handshake:

— Nice to meet you! I am Drago, a student of sector nine's school. What is sir's name?

You couldn't be more rigid than that.

— Nice to meet you, Drago, — the policeman made an effort to ignore it, playing along. — I am Rupert, a chief officer of 9's PD on duty.

— Huh? I thought I saw your face on TV a few years ago. It was some stupi… stupefyingly beautiful celebration event about erecting a statue in the park. At the time you were present as a high-ranked civil servant. Changed careers?

Drago knew about the man much more than he should thanks to his classmates' religious obsession, but still mechanically made small talk.

— Our sector is severely underpopulated and understaffed. I hold many job titles, yet the workload often does not amount to one, — emotionless as ever, Rupert was being quite talkative, which didn't fit the character profile the cult compiled on him. — But aren't you an observant one? There should be almost no media coverage of me, it's a miracle they managed to catch a glimpse then… — he paused, noticing how Drago started to space out, his thoughts seemingly going elsewhere. — But why did you ask for my name? You should know it if you have seen it then?

— Introducing yourself, exchanging names - isn't it common sense?

— Your mother didn't ask for my name though, — Rupert wore a wry smirk.

 

Drago, while still upset, could not hold his lips from curling upwards. While it was a terrible joke, he could not ignore the attempt.

— AGGA-GAGAGAGA! — the policeman let out a weird laugh and slapped Drago's back a few times. — Cheer up, young man!

It was incredibly awkward and unnatural, but the obvious intent made it endearing.

"Let's just hope this side of Rupert won't ever be captured by the fan club's spying network. Just imagining their disappointment about their idol's shattered image…"

Drago's negative emotions were finally eased by the newfound amusement.

Seeing the young man's face brightening somewhat, Rupert decided that his attempt to fix the mood was successful, nodded to himself and returned to the usual strict demeanor

— Get in, — he unlocked the car.

— Yes, sir.

Witnessing the instantaneous change, Drago thought that no matter which way the investigation would progress, he wouldn't be able to hold a grudge.

They departed.

 

* * *

Drago leisurely strolled around the police building's inner yard. Surprisingly, while still wearing the jacket.

The questioning was long over. It was quick, dry and on point, fitting Rupert's usual personality.

Drago only had to describe the events in detail. The only thing that deviated from that was a little scolding about actually taking the jacket when he had no way to fulfill the requirement to return it to the owner. He fully embraced his fault and confessed that he just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Despite the flimsy excuse, Rupert went silent for a while, with nothing to discern from his emotionless expression, and didn't press the issue further.

The only highlight was when Drago explained the reason he had to visit Phalanx's house.

When he recounted the contents of today's practice lesson, Rupert's composure was once again shaken. Hearing about a piece of The Flesh being brought so close to a civilian living area just for students to fight with it, he just sat there with eyes wide as saucers for a few seconds, then said that it sounded dangerous with a grim tone.

The expression was so funny in contrast with the man's perfect appearance, Drago regretted not bringing the hidden camera to capture the moment. This, in turn, made him realize that his daily exposure to the cult of crazy fangirls made their stalking tendencies rub off on him. Regardless if the intent was to make fun of them with it, the idea itself was just as rotten as their usual activities. This worry sounded like the most worthwhile motivation so far to study hard and get out of the lowest class which was full of such weirdos.

Either way, Rupert's reaction was on the reserved side. Bringing even a piece of The Flesh, however small, so deep into the Empire's territory was a move so risky, any reasonable person should be terrified, Drago thought. With just a single oversight there would be endless carnage around, so it was worth being shocked about.

In the end Drago wasn’t even criticized for crossing the police line, probably because of the criminal negligence of the officer on duty. On the other hand, he could not satisfy his curiosity, as he didn’t receive any new information about the adventurer from the outside.

Rupert wasn't lying about the "Understaffed" issue. There were many things to do, so while he buried himself in work, Drago was allowed to walk around. His case was reported to the higher-ups of another sector and they were supposed to make a decision within an hour, so  he was left to his own devices for a while.

 

The police building was pointlessly grand. It was erected in a style resembling an ancient temple with countless white columns, not even slightly similar to the school towering in the distance. Yet, compared to its scale, there were almost no people, even considering the late hour (Rupert was still working after all).

After exploring the eerily empty hallways for a while and encountering only two people after going about everywhere, Drago walked into the inner yard.

Marveling at the architecture, he slowly approached a statue in the middle. Made in a classical style of a similar origin to the temple design, it was just as grand with a height around ten meters, just a bit shorter than the columns around. It was a woman dressed in a simple white cloth, with a blindfold over her eyes. Her hands held a sword each, she stood in a threatening pose, looking ready to pounce at an enemy at any moment.

Appreciating the artwork, Drago noticed a pattern on the blindfold. It was a schematic symbol of scales.

Feeling like he was about to remember something, Drago became lost in thought.

Instead of browsing through the history books in his mind, it was fantasy novels.

"Yes, that's right. There was such a cliché, fairly common one. The blind Goddess of Law, holding a pair of scales in one hand and a sword in the other, what was her name again… right".

— Themis, — Drago said to himself.

— What a specific piece of knowledge from a student underperforming in theory subjects.

While he was spacing out, searching through his very specialized memory, he failed to notice when Rupert approached him.

— Ah, how long were you here? You should've said—

— Weren't you enjoying the art?

— Yes, — Drago nodded with a smile.

Looks like Rupert was a person who was willing to waste a few minutes for the sake of something ethereal.

— Is my sentence?..

— Yes, I was already informed of it, — said Rupert, looking up at the statue's face.

— Is it bad? — Drago already got used to the man's direct nature, so him not sharing the result immediately was a weird sign.

— You could say so.

Another indirect answer. It was truly impossible to discern anything on Rupert's emotionless face. Drago started to feel uneasy, when the man spoke again:

— How about you use it first?

— Huh? Use what?

— The Themis, — Rupert said calmly.

— Eeeeeh? How do you want me to “use” her, sir?

— … — he finally turned to Drago, looking at him even more blankly than usual.

— Isn’t she made of stone? 

— I thought you knew what it is.

— Yes, I know - this woman is Themis, the Goddess of Law.

— You were talking about the statue? — Rupert looked up, confused. — Does it have an identity?

— What were you talking about then?

— It is the name of this device, — he approached the postament and pushed a small stone in.

A metallic female voice resounded:

— Themis is online.

— Whoa! What is it?

— I can’t believe it, — Rupert shook his head. — You know some occult origin of the word, but somehow aren't aware of the real thing. But the “Goddess of Law” part is… yes, it’s very true. It is a voice assistant, a very old one. It contains the main core of all Empire’s laws and there was a time when it was actually used as a final judge in court, just to be impartial.

— Then, is it— Drago’s eyes widened.

— Of course not, — Rupert reassured him. — It’s not an AI, there was no point in Empire’s history when this concept could even be considered a possibility.

Drago breathed out in relief.

The very core of Imperial culture was built on the fear of artificial intelligence. From the earliest science fiction books, from the first movies, humanity wrote the stories about the AI’s “Rebellion against former masters”. The superstitious, irrational fear was etched so deep in their culture, any attempts to build a machine truly capable of free thought were destroyed in one way or another before taking any proper form. 

Drago, too, shared this fear, as he grew up as any other Imperial Citizen.

In historical retrospect it was universally considered reasonable - it was better to act long before the toasters started to unionize.

Somehow, even without the addition of superior brains, the Intergalactic Empire was built just fine. There was a lot of corruption, uncountable inefficiencies, but any such downside was written off as “part of human nature” if ever compared to a machine. With a bit of exaggeration these human imperfections were a matter to be proud of, not ashamed.

But this all was the obvious part to any Imperial CItizen, which didn’t need to be explained out loud.

— The Themis, — Rupert continued his little history lesson, — Is a very simple algorithm. The processing unit is blackboxed perfectly, so the program was kept secret through the millennia. Just hold the button down and tell it your case in simple terms. It will chew it for a while, and you’ll know its decision. Our laws are still the same, and it could be used in court as is, remember - its word is the word of law.

Rupert made a welcoming gesture to the button on the pedestal. Drago approached it and recounted the events he was judged about as factually as possible, not to confuse the simple machine.

The algorithm was stripping the voice input down to the basics for a whole minute, than the metallic voice declared:

— Trespassing… … … Questionable possession of items.. … Low-severity. Fourteen days of hard labor.

— EEEEEHH?

— Don't worry, it has nothing to do with you. As you can see, it could be called a bit too impartial. The laws might be the same, but we bend them quite often depending on our perception. Naturally, it was only used when the decision couldn't be made otherwise, but… It is not what I wanted to show you, Drago, — Rupert stepped in front of him and pressed on the button himself. — I broke into the home of an elderly couple and stole all their clothes. The clothes were needed for the war effort against the harmful alien species. What is my sentence?

Drago couldn’t even process the ridiculous and blunt statement - Themis answered almost immediately.

— Burglary. War with an external threat situation. No penalty.

— Huh, — Drago nodded. — I can see why it’s not being used anymore. So this is what the second sword was about… But what is my sentence, sir?

Rupert frowned, either about not getting what the talk about the second sword was about, or…

— It was decided that you were guilty of thievery. Your sentence is to keep the jacket so it will remind you of your sin.

 

— This decision was made by actual people, — he added after a moment.