Part 3

Number 8 was out of place. It jarred in his mind, there was something that didn't fit together; like if there was a room full of conservatives, and a person, alone in the middle, saying, "Yes, I'm very proud of the trade union I'm in, they're a very good idea." He turned sharply to the boy.
"I can't believe it's happening again" he spat,
"What is" The boy said calmly, ignoring the man's rage. The man gesticulated towards number 8.
"She's hitting her child"
"Well you could stop that," the boy suggested calmly. The man glanced tentatively at the boy and rubbed his hands in frustration.
"No, no i can't" he said looking worried "i can't interfere in free will and all that." He turned to look away from the boy. He watched a pidgin. He watched a cat. He turned to face the boy. "Well," he said, a mischievious smile dawning over his face, "maybe this once."