The Inspector

The story begins on an existential note; an Inspector stands on a platform trying to quell the restless nature, which always seems to afflict him, while he waits for his train to arrive.

Scarcely had the sun descended on that dull and cheerless Monday morning when there stood upon the platform a suspect yet unassuming Inspector waiting for his train to arrive.

                Despite the Inspector’s recent arrival he felt he’d been waiting there for long enough; by now he’d checked his broken watch more than once and their unmoving hands purported he’d missed his train by five hours. But it was still the early morning�"perhaps seven or eight o clock, and he was still viewing the distance for the approach of the train; he certainly hadn’t been standing idly about all this time, though he’d originally sought refuge in the seating area on the platform before an invasive restlessness brought him to where he now stood.

Yet his vantage offered him no relief. The impatient feeling returned and he tried to disperse it by drumming his fingers on his briefcase, though careful not to attract the annoyance of those nearby. Eventually the unceasing stillness of the extremity of the track dampened his interest and he turned his attention to the weather, but that likewise offered little solace. Yes, a brilliant blue sky of tender blue loomed happily above him, a cheerful sun smiled down, but it was inadequate to still that feeling within; the Inspector’s troublesome constitution was more complex.

He turned his attention to the wind, which tugged on his grey suit, creasing his white blazer -- a yearning sigh pulling at his black tie. He noticed a thin line of trees on the other side of the track. Behind them, the panorama of a clear sky �" a valley law below. The wind seemed to be calling him there, and he felt the stifled sensation of inaction and the unbearable wait of patience come from within, yearning him to see what lay on that other, greener side. Perhaps it would console his restless fever.

Certainly he couldn’t stomach the thought of going back where he’d been, and wasn’t there a dignity to surveying views such as these? He glanced along the breath of the track and spotted an overpass further down. Again, the inertia of doubt assailed him, and the sweet voice of that little adventure called to him �" on a whim he decided to set off, wondering what lay on the greener side of the track.

                Approaching the gathering of trees on the other side, he stepped from the concrete onto the grass to get a better look. Before him a great forest of uncivilised tress stretched out in the distance, with a gleaming river wandering in the midst. Here, at last, lay a place unspoiled. How captivated he was by that endless verdant expanse! Some deeper feeling was stirred �" a sense of freedom that promised relief from the tedium of the everyday act. Here was a sight whose essence was untainted and inspiring in its simplicity �" but probably too, it was a ridiculous thing to feel; his mind seemed to clamour “Get back to work or you’ll miss your train!”

To his right a little excursion was offered by a dirt path, an accompanying sign detailed the forest �" immediately he was awash in a strange sensation; he felt perhaps the wonder once offered had since lost its splendour �" this place was already charted; his captivation receded into gentle indifference, and fearing his train would arrive soon, he turned away.

Back on the track, frustration waited for him; a man in a dark-grey suit had taken the Inspector’s seat. He too, was glancing at his watch, tapping his leg impatiently, drumming his fingers on his briefcase. A state of immeasurable agitation: the train was late. Just now he articulated his forearm in a swift and defined motion, sighing; the watch before him decided his fate, and an austere and orderly disposition struggled against its clear impatience. 

                Nearby an elderly lady sat staring peaceably into the opposing treeline. Her impatience was less obvious; perhaps the distracted day dreaming was a symptom.

The Inspector was not so particular in his assessment about this collection of people. Again his habit of noticing their distinctions came from restless impatience, as did everything else.

                Over there in the station building where he’d purchased his ticket, someone strolled out. The Inspector recalled the map on the wall in the waiting room. Initially he’d spared it only a glance but a closer view was warranted in light of recent developments �" or the lack thereof. He wandered inside and found a woman housed in a ticket booth. Distracted, she idled away, with a pen at times, tapping it against her cheek, and here and there checking boxes on a sheet of paper.

                The Inspector observed the map on the wall which detailed the train destinations in the area. He gladly spent some time searching for his destination; nested in the corner was a little metal slab that read: “The Company,” in stylish print. What was strange was that this destination wasn’t printed on the map, the metal slab had been added belatedly; what this meant, he didn’t know. He knew very little about this Company in any case, but he’d inspected so many companies before that he thought nothing of it.

Outside again, waiting for the train. By now the novelty of the station had been erased by his searching; he’d seen everything and he felt a stationary boredom. The train would arrive soon. Presently, someone new appeared, a comely woman with an inviting attitude about her, but the Inspector couldn’t stomach much conversation. They were too slow and frustrated him. There were places he needed to be, he thought, as he stood waiting for his train. And yet the train still didn’t come, and he was still waiting. And she was waiting too. And he glanced at his watch again.

There was something in the air. He heard the train coming. He looked at the tracks, with the oceans of gravel beneath them. Yes, the train was coming, and then they’d have to line up. Perhaps no one else was getting on the train. He glanced over to the people sitting and noticed the man in the dark-grey suit was getting up, heaving a sigh, and shaking his head: this whole train business was a ridiculous waste of time; he nevertheless seemed somewhat relieved.

The Inspector stepped aboard as he took a look at his ticket. The train seemed old fashioned, consisting of isolated compartment rooms. It was empty. The number on his ticket guided him to the correct compartment and he settled himself inside, placing his briefcase, which contained his inspection protocols and other necessary items, on the netting above his seat. Again the tortures of waiting; the train had to stall the customary amount of time before moving on. Nevertheless he felt content some progress has been made, however small.

In the moments of lull, the Inspector’s watched the reflection of himself in the window, and his attention wandered into a reverie from the Friday evening before.

He remembered vividly the warm breath of the dimly lit dark-oak office.

He’d been sitting on an old armchair, watching the flames of the fire jump and dance, hypnotizing him, while the Chief Inspector sat behind his desk discussing loudly into his telephone, “Yes, yes! I know, I know, but you can’t just … well, really, …. No, no, well you would say that, wouldn’t you? -- forget it! forget it!” With a loud thump he threw down the telephone onto the receiver and stood up with a heavy sigh. He began to shift his portly frame around his mahogany desk.

“I don’t understand these people anymore,” said the Chief Inspector, the sweat on his temples glistened as he entered the glare of the fire, “Things aren’t like they used to be.” He lifted a glass of brandy from the fireside table, and took a sip from it. He made a subtle motion towards the Inspector with his chalice and asked: “What do you think? Have I lost my wits? Am I too old? It was someone different this time, not her from before, you know? She’s retired…. And this new person… there’s something missing…no flexibility! No, too official…” he too another sip. 

The Inspector’s voice caught in his throat; his attention still consumed by the fire: “I don’t know much about how things used to be.”

“You’ll know soon enough.”

The Chief Inspector walked over to his trophy cabinet. “Yes, you’ll know soon enough… Y’know how long it’s been since I’ve won anything?” he asked, in a dissatisfied tone. A moment of reverie gripped him. He hammered on his stomach and shook his head as discontent stirred within, “I was told to lay off the brandy, but it must be something else… because things aren’t the same as they used to be �" don’t you think?”

The Inspector made to make his crude mantra regarding him not having experienced the past and hence having no thoughts on it, but the Chief Inspector carried on;  he was very obtuse, fond of soliloquys, “When I was a young, …” he began.

                The flames fire danced wildly, emanated a sense of comforting warmth. What was it in the fire that drew his attention? He stopped listening to everything else; he couldn’t draw his eyes away because he felt like a scared reasoning was trying to reveal itself in all that chaos �" insurmountable, endless chaos… ….

“Old age gets you! It really does! Creeps up on you. Yes, fifty years now, middle-aged, apparently.”

 ….  The Inspector began to wonder what the fire meant to him, this obsession -- he was a very ordered man. There was something in the way… Things were ordered in a way that didn’t work -- Yes, that was it!

“Now, let’s get back to the kernel of the matter,” interrupted the Chief Inspector with finality, “This new model company. Well, I suppose it’s one of those things. You know I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard those same few words thrown together �" “a new company”? How can you call some new in this day and age? But they say,” and the Chief Inspector leaned close �" he’d since sat himself down beside the Inspector, near the fireplace, “They say that it’s a Company of the Future… at least that’s what an old buddy has told me…” the Chief Inspector chuckled, and continued: “A sense of finality to it, don’t you think? The final nail in the coffin?”

The Inspector’s attention was suddenly seized, the fire drew away from him and he looked intently at the Chief Inspector, “What do you mean? It’s all talk. Always has been. A new coat of paint is all it is.”

The Chief Inspector drew back, a look of sobriety returned to his face, “Yes, I know. But there’s something strange about it this time. There always is with these things that’ve never been done before. And I know I’m inclined to mumble on a bit, yes I know very well. But I also know quite a bit about companies because I’ve been inspecting them my whole life. I’ll tell you this, I’ve grown sick and tired of novelty, it’s just a gimmick nowadays… But sometimes a new ship arrives, larger than the rest, from some part of the world we’ve forgotten about. And it’s like the silent fascination of a deep sleep captures you. Sometimes something comes from outside this never-ending parade of progress.” He got up again, and removed himself from the glare of the fire, “How much easier would it be to just do away with it all? Why not nail everything down, and content ourselves with dreams of progress? Maybe, that’s all nonsense. I’m an old fool you know.”  

Abruptly, his fascination faded, “Oh well,” he said at last, loudly, “I guess we’ll see soon enough what it’s all about. But keep your wits about you in any case, my good Inspector.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, of course I mean to send you to this Company … I would go myself but these new companies are odd and demand a lot of energy which I just don’t have anymore. Why, they say it’s a company of the future! And it’ll be of better use to you than it would be to me --and hear this, this desk right here,” the Chief Inspector knocked his knuckles on the hard mahogany of the desk he was so fond of: “One day this’ll be yours. This isn’t some new thing which you can discard, this desk, it’s something you can pass on. This was here even before I arrived… listen Inspector, we’re all counting on you here. The firm will need someone like you. You’ve already shown your merit, just a bit of time and before you know it, you’ll be the chief inspector…” before long, the Chief Inspector returned to his habitual soliloquy: “…There’s a kind of intimacy with life I’ve lost, it’s all very distant from me…”

With a lurch the train awoke and stirred into motion. The reverie collapsed like a dream and at the same moment the compartment door flew open.

A figure in the doorway watched the Inspector with a gesturing huff of annoyance; The man in the dark-grey suit proceeded to seat himself, anxiously clutching his briefcase in his lap, drumming his fingers while the Inspector strained to place his attention elsewhere. But no thread of thought could distract him. He spared an occasional glance, hoping to catch the stranger’s eye so as to intimate his grief at this intrusive habit, but this served only to further strain the attention of the agitated Inspector, who was beginning to feel hopelessly trapped as the train began to roll forward.

He watched out the window and saw everything was changing so fast that things ceased to change and instead merged into a static blur. Once more that restless feeling began to stir.

 

Author's Note

Be as blunt as you like. First chapter, does it reel you in? How can it be improved?

Reviews

[Michelle Saldana]

First off, great job setting the mood and ambiance. I felt as if I were right there, waiting alongside the Inspector and feeling the weight of his anxiety.

I can genuinely tell that a lot of thought has gone into setting the scene and building the character's internal world.

Here are some thoughts:

While I appreciate the depth, it feels as though the story is taking its sweet time to get to the main action or crux. Sometimes, less is more, you know?

It's intriguing, no doubt. However, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't occasionally checking how much more there was to read. Some readers might stick around for the atmosphere, but others might wish for a quicker pace.

Consider what you want the reader to take away from this chapter. While there's beauty in the details, there's also value in momentum.

Oh, one more thing – I'd recommend revisiting your formatting. The lack of proper spacing and the presence of erroneous characters makes it a bit challenging to read. This might discourage some readers from continuing with your story.

Overall.. definitely keep at it! The bones of a compelling story are there.

[Mamalou]

I am intrigued. I want to know what exactly he is inspecting in these companies. The story reminds me of various "Twilight Zone" episodes - not sure if that's what you're going for. I really liked how you described the Inspector going to the untouched green space and then experiencing sorrow when he saw it had been encountered previously because of the path. You transition well into the flashback of the exchange in the Chief Inspector's office. I noticed at the beginning you described the Inspector as wearing a grey suit with a white blazer. A minor thing but that confused me because if he is wearing a grey suit why is the jacket white? Also, I am wondering why he is wearing a broken watch. Seems pointless but maybe you have a plan for it? I would read the next chapter.