(1 of 1. Originally posted on February 23, 2024 for the prompt “Empty Vase.”)
“Please be careful with those,” Grace reached a hand out toward the soldier carrying a box in from storage. “They’re fragile.”
“Easy, Johnson. Let me help with that.” The overseeing officer set his clipboard down and rushed over to take hold of one side of the box, helping lower it to the floor gently.
A feeling of appreciation swept through Grace, slamming into her general feelings of revulsion for all government agents. The conflicting emotions felt like two weather systems colliding, creating a storm front in her heart.
It’s just an act, she told herself. Good people don’t work for the government.
To distract herself from her own thoughts, she asked, “Is there a reason for this inspection?”
“Classified.” The officer glanced at Grace, then dropped his eyes. “Truth is, I don’t know. Orders are to check all goods brought in from outside the city for ‘anything suspicious.’”
The soldier, Johnson, cut open the box to reveal a half dozen vases. “This is the only box I found, sir.”
“We’re a small business,” Grace jumped in. The more eagerly she shared the safe information, the less likely they’d be to dig deeper. “We get one box of vases each month, on average. From different cities, depending on who has stock available.”
The officer lifted a vase out of the box and turned it, examining it from all sides. “Why does it have little glass squares embedded in it?”
“They check everything coming in to the city. They used to randomly break one vase from each shipment, to ‘check for hidden compartments.’ That’s a huge percentage loss on small shipments. We started adding glass bits, so they can see there’s no compartments without breaking one. Didn’t help much with inspections, actually, but it caught on and now it’s a popular style.”
“Hm.” The officer circled the room, pulling open each desk drawer and cabinet. With most he didn’t even pause before moving on, until the last drawer. He pulled out a page-sized sheet of clear plastic, with the alphabet printed on it five times. “What’s this?”
“Oh, that?” Grace waved a dismissive hand. “That’s my niece’s schoolwork.”
The officer squinted at the paper. “How is this ‘schoolwork? There’s no questions, or problems.”
“It’s legitimate,” Johnson said. “My son is learning to write, and we use one of those. You put it in an old projector machine and the letters show on the wall. Then the kid can hold a paper up against the wall and trace them.”
“Okay,” The officer put the page back. “Looks fine. We can move on. Thank you, miss…?”
“Call me Grace. Officer…?”
“Carmichael.” His smile looked genuine. Relaxed. “You know, I could put in paperwork to get you a security clearance form. Get your stuff brought in with less hassle.”
“That would be nice. Thank you, Officer Carmichael.”
“Call me Jeff.”
* * *
Grace closed up the shop, grabbed the page of ‘schoolwork’ and the box of vases, and brought them into her darkened office. She wrapped the sheet of plastic around the first vase and taped it in place with the edge against a particular pattern, so that some letters pressed against glass pieces. Setting the alphabet-shrouded vase sideways onto a projector and rotating it displayed a series of letters against the wall.
GOV JULY PATROL SCHED SECTOR A…
