A light breeze blew across Western Europe, bringing fine weather and warmth. But this wind had brought something else from North Africa. For the past two days, Sahara sand, carried by the winds, had tinted the sky, giving it an orange hue. This sand settled on the inert cars, forming a thin layer.

A year ago, this would have mildly annoyed the inhabitants of the Paris region as they would have been forced to clean their cars quickly before the sand damaged the paintwork. But now, no one cared. The important thing was that it did not interfere with the crops.

This issue, because it was directly linked to everyone's survival, was at the heart of everyone's worries and conversations. Yet, some people continued to think, to try to innovate, to create art, or to seek information.

In the streets of Nanterre and neighboring towns, it was not uncommon to see someone painting or drawing while others announced the latest news loudly. All information, however, was controlled by the newly formed government. The Council, whose members were democratically elected, ensured that the information was accurate and not too depressing to avoid undermining the morale of the population.

Karima passed by one of them, a young boy who must have been fifteen or sixteen, strategically positioned at the intersection of two major streets quite busy at this time of day.

"Air pollution alert! The Council recommends avoiding intense physical exertion! In case of respiratory problems, go to the government offices!"

The boy no longer needed to read his bulletin as this information had been broadcast for two days. With some luck, there would be no more sand coming the next day.

"By order of the Council, all paper waste must be sorted for recycling. Plant waste must be composted to serve as fertilizer in urban fields. Plastic waste must be placed in sealed bags at designated locations. To find the nearest locations, you can go to the government offices. Attention: littering is strictly prohibited and punishable by twenty lashes, forty in case of repeat offenses!"

The streets were becoming less and less cluttered with waste, but this was not thanks to the newly created Council. The inhabitants and the law enforcement had early on started working on this issue to prevent the outbreak of an epidemic. One street at a time, they had removed trash bags and all the abandoned waste from the sidewalks to the roads. Nanterre looked much better compared to the first few months. Without the regular passage of sanitation workers and garbage collectors, these towns had quickly turned into open-air dumps. At least, that's what they would have become if action had not been taken.

The agents sent to Paris as scouts said it truly deserved its nickname "the Putrid." Trash was everywhere, as were decomposing corpses. Some lay in the middle of the street while others were hung from lampposts and balconies.

Even though France's enemies had seemingly vanished, abandoning the ruined former capital, General Giraud had no desire to reclaim these spaces. The descriptions had made it clear to him that these buildings had no value for reinvestment.

Teams had still been sent to search the museums, the Louvre first, to secure the exhibited items that had survived looting and the rule of the fanatic Muslims. Unfortunately, in many cases, these teams returned empty-handed.

These crazy people had destroyed everything that didn't align with their faith as they saw it. Anything that predated or was unrelated to the Prophet had been demolished with sledgehammers and iron bars. The sublime buildings had been set on fire. Among all the works and artifacts lost forever were la Joconde, le radeau de la Méduse, la Nuit Etoilée, le Sacre de Napoleon, Winged Victory of Samothrace, Venus de Milo, the sarcophagus of Tutankhamun, and la Liberté guidant le Peuple.

Karima, like many others, had cried imagining these items going up in smoke after surviving so many horrors, centuries, and wars. Everyone felt immense regret, that they had not sought to preserve these priceless treasures.

There had also been attempts to force access to the objects locked in the police headquarters. There was everything there because all evidence related to a crime had to be carefully stored and referenced. Naturally, firearms were stored there.

Seized in a raid or during a routine customs check, a real arsenal was within reach. A year after the power outage, all these weapons had not moved from their shelves, as the site was highly secured and little known.

If France's enemies had eventually discovered it, they had not managed to break in. Thus, all these weapons and ammunition could be seized by the Council's forces. It was enough, but easier said than done, to enter and help themselves.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Similarly, a team had been sent to the Banque de France in the hope of getting their hands on the tons of gold stored there. Unfortunately, security was even higher. According to what Karima had heard, they were trying to break into the vault by forcing the security doors one by one, as no other access was possible. She had heard one of the men in charge of this arduous mission say that it would take at least ten years to reach the vault located about thirty meters below the surface.

This is it, Karima whispered internally as she stopped in front of an old bar.

There were a dozen Civil Defense guards there, the only remaining law enforcement body that included national gendarmes, police officers, army soldiers, and volunteers. She was the highest-ranking officer on site.

"My sous-lieutenant, we have searched the premises but found nothing," said a guard proudly wearing a major's rank, saluting her.

Karima returned the salute and quickly looked around.

Almost nothing had changed since it had been looted. Someone had taken the trouble to pile all the glass debris in a corner. There was not a single bottle left, and the tables were not clean. A few cobwebs could be seen here and there. Yet, it was clear that someone had been there recently.

"Do we know how many they were?" asked the officer, observing an impressive tag on the largest wall in the room.

"At least thirty, based on the number of chairs moved. No one has been identified yet."

"Hmm, they could become a serious problem in the future. We cannot ignore them."

The tag had immediately caught the young woman's attention. It was very colorful and well-made, but that wasn't the important part. The important part was what it represented: a menacing skull wearing a samurai helmet. She had seen this symbol a few weeks earlier. It was the emblem of the bandit group destroyed by General Giraut. Their leader, David Marinot, had indeed been executed, but some of his men had evidently escaped.

These dogs want to stir up trouble here! No way!

"Try to find names, but don't go to their location. I want us to infiltrate their group to arrest them all. The leaders must be punished."

"At your orders!"

This symbol had been spotted in several places around the city and was causing concern among the high-ranking officials. Often, it was accompanied by a seditious message. The general was taking the matter very seriously and wanted to quickly eliminate the last elements of this violent and dangerous group. The identity of the leader of this group was still unknown.

Without the help of modern technology, it was impossible to identify the individuals who had gathered in this abandoned bar. Their DNA was certainly everywhere, but without forensic police equipment, they were no further ahead. Similarly, the surveillance cameras had all been out of order since the blackout.

Karima had no choice but to resort to archaic methods.

Let's start with the neighborhood. From these windows, there's a clear view of the main entrance. I hope it's inhabited.

Despite the large number of refugees coming from Paris, many city dwellings were empty. Based on the number of votes in the two referendums, she estimated that half of the housing had been abandoned. The towers and high-rise buildings had probably been the first to empty, especially the upper floors.

Here, the buildings were mainly three or four stories high. The neighborhood was charming, the facades colorful and the streets clean, but traces of the chaos following the power outage remained. A corner pharmacy had entirely burned down, along with all the surrounding and above apartments. The other local businesses had suffered a similar fate, as well as the broken-down vehicles.

Karima walked firmly towards the nearest building, accompanied by two young guards, former volunteers, with determined looks in their eyes, and knocked energetically on a door. Receiving no response, she moved to the next one and knocked, announcing herself. It was illegal to ignore a Council agent when they knocked on your door. The resident unlocked the door and an almost skeletal face appeared.

"What is it?" said the man who looked much older than he actually was due to the lack of food.

"Sous-lieutenant Ali, from the National Gendarmerie… I mean, the Civil Defense Guard. We are investigating a group of individuals suspected of wanting to cause trouble in the city and commit violent acts against the residents and Council agents."

"The Council..."

The man frowned, instantly giving him a mean look. Karima immediately found the man suspicious.

He looks shady… He reminds me of a villain in a movie, but I can't remember which one… Should I take him in for questioning?

"We know they gathered recently in the bar across from your building. Maybe you noticed some suspicious individuals around?"

"You know, once night falls, you can't see much. My eyesight isn't very good either. My glasses were broken last year and I couldn't get them fixed. All the opticians have closed down, so I have to stay like this. My eyesight… is getting worse."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir. I wish I could help, but I don't see how. I'll still make inquiries at my barracks."

"Um, maybe… um, you should take an interest in the neighbors upstairs. I don't like to snitch," he said, lowering his voice as if afraid of being overheard, "but their son goes out at night and hangs around the neighborhood even though it's forbidden. I'm not saying he's part of those you're looking for, but he's always been trouble. He clearly lacks discipline, if you ask me."

Karima scrutinized the man with a hooked nose and deep-set eyes. It was when she saw him nervously playing with his hands that she realized this man reminded her of Gollum from Peter Jackson's "The Lord of the Rings" and "The Hobbit."

He doesn't like to snitch? I don't buy it. I bet he would have done well during the Occupation.

"Thank you for your collaboration, sir. I won't bother you any longer."

"I… I am at your service… and at the service of the Council. Um, can I… can I count on you to help me with my glasses?"

Yes, a good collabo. Disgusting.