Suspended indefinitely.

Thinking about those words, Park had a sudden mental image of the world, its activity and life frozen, paused, suspended indefinitely, waiting while this overlay of the world reeled about, aping the original.

At some point this interlude would expire, and that true world would resume from where it left off, transition seamless, strange interruption erased.

The partner slapped his face with the zippered wallet of useless paper.

“He’s at liberty, at liberty to get his face fucked up if he fucking moves again.”

He tossed the wallet back in the car.

“Nothing else in here.”

The plainclothes yanked on the cuffs that locked Park’s hands behind his back.

“’Kay, fuckstick, let’s go to jail.”

He pulled Park up, frog-walked him to the unmarked, and pushed his head low as he shoved him into the backseat.

“Try not to piss yourself.”

He slammed the door, slid behind the wheel.

“And away we go.”

The partner climbed in on the passenger side.

“Off to see the wizard.”

The Crown Victoria pulled from the curb, leaving behind the small crowd of rubberneckers that had surrounded the scene right after the unmarked had screeched up to where Park was idling at Highland and Fountain and the two cops had jumped out, guns first. They must have hung about to watch the old-fashioned novelty of a drug bust. It may or may not have occurred to any of them that this was a suspiciously frivolous use of law enforcement resources in a time of pandemic, economic collapse, and general social upheaval, but if they did notice, no one chose to speak out.

What would they have said?

Unhand that man.

Go do your job somewhere.

Tell the Fed to go back on the gold standard.

Put more resources into alternative energy sources.

Begin talks with the NAJis.

Find a cure.