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April 14, 2023, Ilesia

"Well, there's a first time for everything sometime," Old Joe utters philosophically upon hearing my panicked "I'm late!" in the phone. "Don't race on the road, and be a goody-goody."

Thanks, Joe, what would I do without your wise advice!

Actually, I expect to arrive at the duty station a few hours before the appointment, but I manage to oversleep, and then in a hurry to collect frivolously left "for tomorrow" things, trying to remember where I put the sweater given by my aunt.

Thanks to my friends who dragged me to the movie night and a small party right after the movie at the apartment of a newly minted police officer. The party in a small circle lasts far past midnight, and only at three o'clock I remember that I, unlike others, have to work tomorrow, and I wouldn't want to be late, and whether the guests want to go home, or stay on the sofa in the kitchen?

There is no one willing to stay, and the company leaves me alone. The consequences of a small party are cleaned up in true masculine style - if something can be thrown into the closet, this something will certainly be thrown there, and there is practically nothing in the apartment to pick on.

The payment for the cheerful communication is the unheard (five times) ringing of the alarm clock, rolling out of bed at noon, and frantic packing for the road with a clear understanding that I clearly overslept, and now, to get there on time, will have to hope for no traffic jams, clear weather and other signs of good disposition of the stars.

Fortunately, the weather treats me favorably and does not add force majeure. I get to my destination before the hands of the clock are at six and twelve.

Yes, it would be offensively stupid to cross out all the praise with a trivial delay on the first working day!

My ego likes almost everything that the gentlemen teachers and coaches have scribbled in the dossier. According to this data, I am almost a superman: brave, loyal to principles, agile and smart. And with the fact that I am an incorrigible idealist, too, I agree 100%. Even if it stinks of stupidity, but no one can convince me that all my efforts to be human and honest will remain unnoticed against the background of the ugliness going on in the world. That I cling to outdated notions, unwilling to accept the principle: "Either you are or you are not".

What is a man without faith worth? Without morals and principles?

The streets of Ilesia are quiet. The good weather lures quite a few people out for a stroll. Stopping at a stoplight, I look at the passersby, catch the enthusiastic gaze of a boy of about five, and smile back. I remember how, as a child, I myself looked at policemen in the same way, persuading my mother to buy a car. And later I cried in the store, demanding to buy the same cool blue uniform like Leon Kennedy's - and that it should have the R.P.D. badge. Daddy!

Dreams come true. Sometimes not the way you planned, but maybe it's for the best. As Joe the bartender used to say with a sad sigh, "It's nice to have accomplished something by the time you're twenty-two."

I get lucky and fly into the police department building five minutes before the meeting starts. I show my ID at the entrance, find the stairs, and head for them, trying my best to look confident. As if I have served here for several years, I know all the passages and corridors, and in general, I don't wander around looking for the right office, getting more and more into a zeitnotovaya hysterics....

And I have an epic collision with a girl who comes out from around the corner just as I'm turning the corner. I almost cause her to fall - well, my reaction time is good and I manage to pick her up. Papers flutter above us like frightened birds, and I'm silently glad she didn't have something heavier in her hands.

The surprise in her eyes quickly changes to amusement:

- You can let go, - she says softly; her voice shakes with laughter. I quickly unclasp my hands, releasing her from my embrace, and hope I don't look too confused.

- New? - The girl squats down gracefully and starts picking up papers, looking at me curiously. I nod and pick up the scattered sheets:

- Adrian Favalli.

- And I'm Luna, - she replies in a friendly tone, brushing a strand of blond hair off her forehead. - What's your hurry?

The realization that I'm about to be late for a meeting with my superiors bursts into reality like a bell, and Officer Favalli manages at the last moment to hold back a not-so-decent exclamation.

- Oh, - I struggle to squeeze behind the cabinet and reach for the sheet that had fallen farthest from the others. I hold it out to Luna. - I'm sorry, but... could you tell me where the chief's office is?

Luna straightens up, holding the disheveled pile of papers to her chest, and smiles cheerfully:

- Ah, so that's where you were flying to.

- Is that an excuse? Well, that I almost dropped you?

- I'll think about it while the chief sneezes on you, - she promises, pointing to an office a few meters down the hall. I exhale with relief:

- Thank you.

In the back flies good-naturedly mocking:

- The main thing is, don't show that you're afraid of him.

- Adrian Favalli has arrived at his duty station!

Yeah, that sounds so dry, it makes my throat chafe. But you must keep your face polite, as is the etiquette of the office. And, of course, to stretch out at attention, studying with an impassive gaze the emblem that adorns the wall behind the chair of the chief of the Ilesian police department. It's a curious piece of expressionism.

Not the chief, the emblem.

The chief is a classic example of an old-school policeman: stern, soft-spoken, and frankly expressive. An open, wide-skinned face with a clean-shaven, strong-willed chin, a scrutinizing gaze in his blue eyes. Diego Ramirez, a menace not only to criminals but also to unscrupulous employees. And his opinion will be little influenced even by the highest scores and excellent characterization of the newcomer. You're gonna have to prove your worth.

Chief Ramirez gives me a chance to admire the emblem of the precinct (I'm getting carried away, and I'm starting to look for the deeper meaning and second bottom in all these squiggles), and pulls me out of my reverie:

- "Excellent marksman," - he reads out in a deep voice the very superman data from his personnel file. - "Tactical talents. Leadership qualities. Courage." In your personal opinion, how much of that description matches reality, Officer Favalli?

- I can prove the first one right now. The rest, I'm afraid, will have to wait until the right time, - I hypnotize the wall, though I'd really like to see the chief's reaction, and I hope with all my heart that I manage to maintain a balance between politeness and a touch of healthy self-confidence.

The chief hums faintly. He rises to his feet, taller and broader at the shoulders. I don't think of myself as a choker, but the chief looks so imposing that if he challenged me to a sparring match, I'd bet on him myself. I guess.

Ramirez looks at me with a slightly raised bushy eyebrow, and I want to know what he thinks of the new additions to the ranks. Apparently that's reflected on my face, because the chief's eyes flashed with a slight sneer, but he hid the amusement immediately.

- I don't doubt the fairness of your characterization, officer. Let me explain my own grading system.

He steps out from behind his desk, takes a step toward the blinded window. The office is not too big, so a couple of steps can measure it (or maybe it's just the chief's impressive size). He turns to me again:

- I believe that everyone has the right to trust. The kind that you don't have to fight and prove for - it's just given by default, as a right to live.

In general, I tend to agree. I also try to approach people from the position of... um, the bright side, if I may put it that way. Although it often ends in disappointment.

- After that, a person can either strengthen that opinion or destroy it, - the chief returns to the table and takes his badge from it. - So everyone starts their journey in the department with reputation points.

It's like going to the profile of a top-ranked player and continuing the game with his saves and achievements. On the one hand, it's great; on the other hand, it obliges to keep the brand.

- Welcome to Ilesia, Officer Favalli. Show me what you can do.

I smile back sincerely, shake his hand, and clip my badge to my breast pocket. Then I nod feebly and head for the door.

The hallway is quiet and almost deserted-just a few people standing by the window, talking and joking. But I don't have time to panic that I'll have to find my way out again, or to resent the confusing corridors here. Luna, who's waiting by the stairs, smiles at me as soon as she sees me:

- He was quick to let you go. Pity, I guess.

- It's all about my eloquence," I replied, following her eagerly. On the breast pocket of the blue police uniform, which fits perfectly on a slender figure, I notice a badge: "Officer L. Ramirez" - and only then I realize why the new acquaintance is so similar to the chief: the same piercing blue eyes, strong-willed chin, softened by the delicate line of the cheeks. And the same open gaze without a hint of falseness.

- Yeah, - she hummed understandingly, - the same one you flaunted before you stepped into this office?

- "Before" I was a stranger, and it's not very polite to read one's own charter in a strange monastery, - I answer with a nod to the silent greeting of the man who rises to meet me. I could hardly keep myself from jumping over the railing. But such childish antics on the first day of work would hardly seem appropriate to the locals.

- And now this charter is not a stranger? - curiosity Luna, the first to go out into the corridor of the first floor and heading for the coffee machines.

- I have not yet decided whether to ennoble this monastery with the statutes of my composition, - I joked. Luna laughs-a little chime of small bells, and that laughter attracts the attention of several officers standing in the hall.

- Does the chief's opinion play a role?

- I haven't decided either.

- He'll be interested to know.

- You're just gonna ditch me like that?

- I haven't decided yet, - she mimics.

- Yeah, - I choose a simple coffee with sugar. Luna's coffee with cream.

She seems fragile, yet confident at the same time. The combination makes me unconsciously want to protect her, though I highly doubt Diego Ramirez's sister needs guardianship.

Luna gives me a brief tour of the station. In my hurry to meet the chief, I didn't have time to see much, and now I'm making up for it with a charming companion. Officer Ramirez tells tales of life in the department, the officers, and Ilesia in general. She has a sense of humor, too. Her melodic voice is pleasant to listen to, and I find myself liking Luna more and more.

Evening is already descending on Ilesia in a soft blanket when I step outside. The sun-hot asphalt is reluctant to part with its warmth. I've always loved this time of year, especially in my school days, when my friends and I would sit in the park late at night with our guitars, playing boy band.

It's quiet, there are gentle evenings and pretty girls. And as for career prospects - you only need a desire, and you can succeed anywhere.

For the next week I quite mastered in a new place, coming to the final conclusion that I like it here. Colleagues take the newcomer very favorably, although not missing the opportunity to angrily tease. Chief Ramirez calls for a kind of duel on the range, and remains satisfied with the result of the new employee. And with Luna I get so close that sometimes it seems: we know this girl long ago, and can understand each other without words, only by facial expressions and gestures. Silence and speaking in her company are equally easy, and I begin to wonder - isn't everything happening too fast, and how will the boss feel about it?

Luna soon involves me in her company, and free evenings are fun and noisy. And she also pulls me up in Spanish with a patience worthy of better use, as soon as she knows I've started studying it, without the slightest slackening. When it comes to something she can control, Luna Ramirez is as good as her brother.

The apartment near the department is small, but I get plenty of space. And I also get to use the very car, which I dreamed of as a child - with flashers, sirens and other attributes. I must admit that at the age of five I would have been much happier to be behind the wheel of such a car, but... that's how it always happens with children's dreams, isn't it? Santa Claus turns out to have a false beard, and the car has to be cleaned and repaired all the time.

And so a month of peaceful living goes by. Nothing seems to change. It seems that nothing out of the ordinary can happen here - something that would deprive sleep and peace.

Who would have doubted that everything would turn upside down?