Free Red Shadows by Mitchel Scanlon

soulshadow was different from the old man's. Its colours were cold blue tinged with flecks of brownish amber; stable and unyielding where the shades of the prophet's aura changed colour and squirmed in the air about him with wild abandon. "Move it!" The Judge pulled out his daystick, slapping it against the palm of his hand to show he meant business. "You've all got exactly one minute before I start handing out cube-time for Loitering."
    As the crowd began to disperse, the Judge advanced on the old man standing on his makeshift pulpit. As the Judge approached, the movements of the flowing shades of the old man's soulshadow increased in tempo and became more agitated.
    "You wanted an audience, Gramps, you should have joined all the other blowhards down at Speakers Square," the Judge told him. "One count of Public Speaking Without a Licence. You just bought yourself sixty days in an iso-cube."
    "The cubes?" The black lines of the old man's aura became thick and jagged, pulsing wildly. The storm was about to blow. "You want to lock me away from the rain?"
    "Weather Control doesn't have any rain scheduled in this sector for another three days, old man." As the Judge spoke, William saw thin, black fault lines of annoyance appear in his soulshadow like cracks in a block of ice. "Now, get off that crate before I add Creating a Public Obstruction to the list of charges."
    "No!" the old man screamed, the colours of his aura flaring to a sudden incandesence. "You won't make me miss the rain! You won't make me drink your drokking chemicals!"
    Shrieking, he leapt off the crate with his hands splayed out like claws. Sidestepping the attack easily, the Judge swiftly brought up his daystick to hit the old man in the stomach, and followed it with a second blow to the back of the neck that sent him sprawling to the ground.
    "Congratulations, gramps," the Judge said as he pulled a set of handcuffs from his belt and secured his prisoner. "You didn't want to be drinking chemicals in the water? You just got yourself five years for Resisting Arrest, plus a thirty day spell in the psycho-cubes for observation. They got plenty of chemicals in there. They call 'em tranquillisers."
    Hauling the dazed old man to his feet, the Judge began to frog march him towards a holding post. Then, his eyes narrowed as he saw William standing nearby, watching him.
    "You deaf, citizen?" the Judge glared at him coldly. "Or are you looking for some cube-time as well? You were ordered to move on."
    "Oh, I intend to," William replied pleasantly. Inwardly, he found himself vaguely surprised the Judge had even noticed him at all, so few people did. Still, it hardly mattered. He had to be about his business anyway. Mentally, he consulted the next name and address on the list he had memorised. "Though maybe you can help me? I'm looking for Mary Kelly Block?"
    "I look like a tour-bot to you?" The Judge's expression hardened, his hand wandering to the daystick he had replaced on his belt. "I ordered you to move."
    "Yes, you did." Smiling at the Judge, William concentrated on keeping his voice polite but firm. "But first, I asked you a question. Answer me. Where is Mary Kelly Block?"
    For a moment, the Judge stared at him as though dumbfounded. Then, abruptly, he turned to point towards a pedway at the other end of the plaza.
    "That way," the Judge said. "You follow the Wagner pedway for about a klick or so, and then take the right turn for Grant Square. Another half a klick after that you'll see Mary Kelly on your left."
    "Thank you, Judge." William set off at a brisk walk, heading in the direction the Judge had indicated. Pausing as he reached the pedway, he glanced briefly behind him. The Judge had returned to his duties, dragging the old man to the holding post as though nothing had happened. He had probably forgotten their conversation already.
    Good, William thought as he resumed his journey. Inside, he felt a familiar sensation of anticipation rising within him as he