these bountiful silences

xxiii. express

He keeps looking upwards, at the side of the building that he's leaned against. It's massive, basically. Sprawling up towards the sky, with a few security cameras branching out from the side of it. Harry zeroes in one of the cameras that looks like it's zooming in on him, and he feels like he's being watched. He thinks about his talk with Simon and realizes that he probably is being watched. Which probably means he should act like he's completely focused on his job.

He lets out a muffled sigh and drops his chin, deciding to get back to work. Raking his eyes over the sidewalk, watching as Citizens flit about on the course of their daily life. His eyes zero in on a girl, she looks around ten in age. She seems normal, mouth shut and following her Mum dutifully. But the thing off about her is her hands, she's moving them in odd shapes rapidly while making eye contact with the small boy beside her. The boy nods and moves his hands, too. Like he's answering her.

His stomach sinks and alarms go off in his head when he realizes that the children are using sign language. Typically, he would turn away and let it slide. They're just children, after all, they probably don't realize the severity of the illegal actions they're committing. But his conscious reminds him of the cameras all over the buildings and Simon's warning about how The Movement is watching him.

So he moves from his post, hand moving for the piece of plexiglass in his pocket to send in the appropriate code to HQ about the violation he's witnessing. He walks forward, driving his legs until he's caught the pace of the small family that's gained ground on the sidewalk. He puts his hand on the girls shoulder and she whips around immediately. The little boy stops, too, and the Mum continues to walk until she realizes the absence of the sounds of her children's footsteps following her.

Harry uses his hands on the children's shoulders to keep them in place as their Mum runs back to them, her eyebrows furrowed with worry. Harry looks down at the kids' eyes, which are both a warm hue of brown that's reminiscent of caramel and warm, winter nights.

He feels bile raise in the back of his throat when he realizes that what he's doing right now is going to forever change this boy and girl's lives for forever. Because of him turning them in they will know be seen as anomalies, up and coming Unconformists that threatens the precious structure of the world that The Movement has so carefully created. A pristine white shoe comes into his line of vision of Harry glances up to see his old Superior, with her tightly pinned back hair and cold eyes gazing back at him.

"Brent and Celeste Foreman?" His Superior asks the two kids. They nod slowly, Harry can feel the fear radiating off of them. "You are both being apprehend for engaging in the illegal action of communicating with sign language. Sign language is a nuisance to the infrastructure of The Movement, and also the language of the Unconformists. Engaging in such forms of contact is likened to terrorism in The Movement's eyes. Your punishment will be decided  in a court of law."

"No," their mother screeches, voice borderline hysterical. Her eyes are flitting between Harry and his old Superior in quick movements like that of a caged animal. "They're just children."

"Mrs. Foreman, are you attempting to defend Unconformist actions? You are aware that that is an obstruction of justice, which is punishable by law. Think carefully before you act any further, because I can assure you that the courts won't be half as merciful to you as they will be to your children."

The woman inhales like she was just punched in the gut, her eyes brimming with tears immediately. She shakes her head, mouthing a silent 'no' as Harry's old Superior tightens her hold against the girl, Celeste. Harry glances back down at the children to see both of them crying. Harry's heart clenches. What has he done?