system, had become much greater than that centuries ago. It was linked into our nervous systems, responding to our thoughts, manipulating our hearing and our vision. It knew the thoughts of every living being on Iamos, networking our brains inside and out. It connected everyone on the planet, ensuring that the Contract was fulfilled and alerting the Enforcers of any deviation.
We were nearly upon the farmhouse when a middle-aged woman hurried out to greet us. She seemed nervous, rubbing her hands on her pant leg. “Kyrios, Kyrin,” the woman said with a shaky voice. “You honor us with your presence. My partner and our apprentice are out in the field right now, but they’ll have seen your gurzas and should be here shortly.”
“Very well,” Ketros replied, sounding bored. “We’ll wait for them inside.” He didn’t wait for her to invite us in; a patros needed no invitation from a plivoin. As I followed the enforcer inside, I thought I spied a shadow of movement behind the dirty glass of one of the windows of the house. I watched it with narrowed eyes momentarily, then continued through the door into the front room of the small abode.
We remained in silence for a few minutes, Ketros seated in a dingy armchair with an expression of marked disinterest on his face; myself perched on the edge of a creaking woven fiber stool; and the plivoin shifting anxiously from one foot to the other as she stood deferentially in the doorway. Before long, we heard the clamor of footsteps hurrying up the front walkway, and the door flew open. An older man—surely the woman’s partner—hurried in, a cloud of red dust in his wake. “Maetrin,” the man gasped, short of breath, “Enforcers—”