The Colorless

Every morning at seven o’clock Mr. Tollet stood at his east facing office window on the 77th floor of his place of work, on Seventh Avenue, in district 77 and sipped his dark roast from his white porcelain cup while looking out at the morning commuters. He watches with pale eyes as the men and women move carefully about on the grid that used to be Seattle. Not that it resembles anything of that chaotic mess. No winding roads or cul-de-sacs. Elevation is a thing of the past as well. Just a flat plane of perfectly square blocks for miles and miles. When he looks across the street he can see a mirror image of the building he is standing and be reassured. Satisfied, Mr. Tollet takes another sip.

Every morning he did this for the last seven years, and as the Chief of the Bureau of Orderly Affairs his first sip was taken at seven on the dot. A habit he developed upon becoming Colorless and joining the Bureau. After all, he must set a good example in all things he thinks as he meanders over to a cabinet on the opposing wall and drums his long translucent fingers against the pasty white doors.

So caught up in his musings is he that he jumps when the door to his office bursts open and spills his coffee on his white undershirt.

“Sir! We caught another one – oh my deepest apologies sir!” exclaims one Mr. Edmure. Like all Colorless men, he was a standard five foot and seven inches, wore a smartly charcoal grey two-piece, and possessed a perfectly symmetrical face with a neatly combed centerfold. However like most new Colorless, his face is still smooth and expressive unlike the neat lines that decorated Mr. Tollet’s visage.

He will learn, Mr. Tollet thinks grimly as he irritably pads a handkerchief to his once pristine shirt.

“Edmure,” growls Tollet. “How many times have I told you not to disturb me before seven thirty?”

“M-many times Mr. Tollet.”

“And how many times have you violated that rule in the last month Edmure?”

“Many more times sir,” Edmure replies ashamed with his head hung.

“No matter,” Tollet replies smoothly, the stain being absorbed by his handkerchief. He strides over to his desk with long and even paces before sitting smoothly in his black, thin-backed, officer chair. “You caught one?” Tollet inquired as he gestured for Edmure to sit in the chair opposite him.

Gratefully, Edmure scrambled to his seat while producing something from his pocket, “Yes sir! A raid on an unauthorized civilian celebration. I believe it was a birthday sir and the article in question was this...” He smacked down an object on the table in front of him.

“Gently next time and mind your emotions Edmure, you’re not a vibrant anymore.” Mr. Tollet admonished in a bored voice despite his widening just a smidge at the article in question.

A heart-shaped locket that appeared to be some cheap costume jewelry, like the many that existed before the Change. Now, not so much.

Tollet daintily plucked the locket from his desk and held it to his eye, starring serenely as he did so. “Disgusting,” he muttered distractedly. Turning his attention back to his underling who was fidgeting waiting his next orders. “What of the violators?” Gently he places the locket back on the desk.

“They are in holding sir.”

Mr. Tollet drummed his fingers on the table. “Why?”

“For questioning…sir?”

“There are no questions here to ask of violators Edmure.” Mr. Tollet stopped drumming, leaned in and tented his long pale hands, “How long have you been with us now?”

“Nine months sir.”

“And how long have you been Colorless?”

“Since I joined the Bureau, so nine months sir.”

“And how many times have you shadowed me on arrests?”

“Over a dozen sir.”

“Has the holding cell ever been occupied during those arrests?”

“No sir.”

“Why is that Edmure?”

“Because Mr. Tollet,” Edmure pulled at his collar and dabbed a beat of sweat with the back of his suit jacket, “Vibrant don’t need holding cells.”

Mr. Tollet leaned back at this and picked up the locket again, “You know what they need Edmure. See to it.” Edmure stood shakily and gave a low before making his way to the door. As his hand touched the silver knob however Mr. Tollet called out behind.

“Oh and Edmure? Do it off company property, the screams make it hard to concentrate.”

“Y-yes sir.” Edmure answered weakly as he exited the office. Mr. Tollet would let that slide. This was first time on his own. He would learn soon enough, after all he was chosen to be Colorless. The world benefited from the rod after all and there was no room for imperfection. Yes, like this locket, Mr. Tollet mused. In a past life it would be beautiful, but such things did not befit the Colorless.

Still…

Mr. Tollet cast his eyes to the pristine white cabinet from earlier. Standing up he easily crossed the distance to the wall. Casting his eyes around his office, akin to a child checking to see if the coast is clear before delving into the cookie jar, Mr. Tollet saw he was alone. With a satisfied hum he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a tiny stamped key. Unlocking the wall with a deft ‘click’ Mr. Tollet opened his wall to reveal his indulgence.

Seven evenly spaced rows greeted him with an explosion of color. Chaotically set on the shelves were countless garish trinkets like the one he held in his hands. For the first time this morning Mr. Tollet allowed himself a satisfied smile and he gently placed the locket on the third row. Time and time again, he tried to organize this chaos but he found such a task impossible as he couldn’t figure a pattern or nice category to place such exquisite trinkets. After many fruitless attempts, Mr. Tollet reasoned that it mattered little. This was his private mess and his alone. Their owners would not miss or appreciate what he safeguarded.

After all only a Colorless like himself could rise above and manage the chaos.