The scanner's blue light passed over the homeless man's iris. Soul value flickered on the screen: [0.7 units. Recommend Purification.]
As a police officer, I was numb to this procedure. Until I saw the stone in the evidence bag – etched with a burning triangle. The database read: [UNKNOWN.]
In this city, ruled by the "Soul Economy," the unknown itself was the gravest crime.
I returned to my orderly home. My wife offered a nutrient paste, everything perfectly optimized.
Perfect. Stable. As it should be.
Yet, the stone's rough texture lingered on my fingertips.
It was like an ancient mark of debt, a reminder:
All this peaceful stability came with a price tag.
And this city,and I, owed a debt that could never be repaid.