The Inspector

Sophia Wolf

by Sophia Wolf

Story

His boots hit hard on the old-fashioned, grey floor. Like the startling ringing of an alarm, the steady rhythm wakes passengers up – or their company’s hurried hands. They tap the leather of jackets or shake cold shoulders, sometimes accompanied by a little whisper. Then, they all synchronise and start foraging their purses, pockets, and phones. Where’s that damned ticket when you need it?

Hurry, he’s almost here! Further behind, his voice begins echoing monotonously.

“Ticket?”

Rustling, then one clang of the boots.

So on and so forth goes the inspector – the infamous interruption to one’s journey. Although one’s paid for the ticket, one’s heart has not seen it and starts skipping like a child over jump ropes.

“Ticket?”

This time, that expected rustling does not come. Instead, some frantic stammering, some explanations, some pleading whisper to the robot. None can see his face, but, doubtfully, it is filled with empathy. He does not care about the passenger’s emergency or forgetfulness; he’s heard these sob stories for years – maybe even decades.

“60€ fine.”

He moves on. The other passengers look at each other with empathy for their fellow. These things happen. The fellow curses. Damn these inspectors – inconsiderate things.

The rest goes smoothly. One after the other, they prove their innocence with black-and-white cards. Whenever he takes a step into the next row, the previous passengers sigh in relief and resume their halted conversation. Now he stands next to this young girl. She can’t be over twenty. With a lively look and confident smile, she greets the man, whilst holding out her phone that displays a complicated QR-code.

“Hello, sir. How are you doing?”

There’s silence. He scans the code. The girl grows aware of stares by people who have noticed the awkward silence – the blatant disinterest in simple conversation. Almost pleading, the girl looks at the man as if she expects a response. He, however, is interested in validity only. But when he finally meets her gaze, her hopes, that had sunken to the floor his black boots trample on, rise. Perhaps he did not hear her before? Before she can greet him again – although more awkwardly this time, he opens his mouth. We hold our breath.

“Identification?”

Like a robot, blank and flat. The girl slightly folds into herself. Insecure, she searches her worn backpack. Hopefully, she doesn’t get fined like that passenger before her. The inspector merely stares at her. Is he impatient? His posture does not allow deductions. Finally, she pulls out a small card out of her little wallet.

A moment. The inspector moves on.

© Sophia Wolf 2023-08-22

Genres
Anthologies