Free Clockwork Dolls - FF by R. W. Whitefield - FF

June 11th

    Dave Burns sat with his head in his hands.
    At least they’ve taken the cuffs off.
    The police interview room was colder than the night outside; the chair he’d been dropped onto was barely functional, and the glass of water on the table in front of him looked like the last occupant had spat in it. The only light came from a stark neon bulb overhead that swung at the end of a fraying cord, just enough to be irritating.
    But all in all, this is better than the alternative.
    “Happy days , ” he whispered.
    He sat on one side of a table that had a distinct lopsided slope to the left. Opposite him on the far side of the table sat a large, bored-looking cop. The cop noticed that Dave had looked up.
    “Whenever you’re ready, son,” the big man said. “I’m listening.”
    “She meant the world to me,” Dave said.
    “Spare me the self-pitying crap. This is a murder inquiry, not a RELATE session,” the cop replied.
    “I loved her.”
    The cop laughed and leaned forward in his chair.
    “You have no idea how many people have sat in that chair and said that,” he said.
    “But I meant it.”
    “They say that too. Being in love is no barrier to a murderous rage. But you know that already…don’t you, Mr. Burns?”
    “I’ll be the first to admit that I know a bit more about rage than I’d like to. But I didn’t kill anybody,” Dave said. He heard the tremble in his voice. He didn’t know whether the cop believed him.
    Hell, I don’t even know if I believe it myself.
    “You’ll have to prove that to me,” the cop said.
    “That’s what I’m trying to do.”
    A car engine revved in the distance, and Dave jumped, almost falling out of his chair. The noise cut off as suddenly as it had come.
    Dave eyed the corners warily.
    Did that shadow just move?
    “We might not have time,” he said.
    The cop interrupted him and sighed theatrically.
    “I know, you told me already. Something big and bad is on its way.” He waved his hands in the air and laughed. “Help me, the boogie man is coming. I’m so scared, I’ve shit myself.”
    Dave almost smiled, but humor was a long way off.
    And might not be coming back.
    “It doesn’t really matter whether you believe me or not,” Dave said. “The Cosmos doesn’t care.”
    “What’s all this Cosmos crap?”
    Dave ignored the question and asked one of his own.
    “Are you a religious man, officer?”
    The cop smiled.
    “Just a poor pilgrim trying to find his way.”
    “I don’t understand that in a cop. Not with the things you must have seen. How can you believe in God when there are so many things wrong in the world and it is obvious that he doesn’t care?”
    The cop smiled again.
    “The Bible says that God is love. And part of His loving nature is that He allows people to have free will. As a result, we have evil, pain and suffering, due to the choices we and others make.”
    “So I was right. He doesn’t care?”
    “Of course he cares. He sent his only son to die for us. That’s how much he cares. He could intervene and control everything about our lives but then we would be just robots and not truly free.”
    “That’s the bit I never got,” Dave said. “He gives us free will. Then, when we use it, he punishes us for not doing what he wanted in the first place. That’s not free will. That’s tyranny.”
    The cop took him seriously enough to answer.
    “God does not violate our wills by choosing us and redeeming us. Rather, He changes our hearts so that our wills choose Him,” he said.
    “So, if, to be saved by Christ, I must give up my free will, then do we truly have freedom? Is it really our choice to be saved if, in the end, we do not have the ability to choose salvation for ourselves?”
    “I’ll tell you what my priest told me,” the cop replied. “When you accept Christ as offered in the gospel, you receive salvation by your own decision. As such, salvation is your work. You must initiate the act. But it is also God’s