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Peter mentally ratified the words of his former teacher Paquita Johns. He could never have been an ex-cop.

“Look at him. How he arches his legs as he walks.”

Corinne, for her part, thought that the members of that police force were very boring characters, not one of them had deigned to look, albeit out of the shadows, at the deep neckline she carried for that occasion: “Are they blind or dumb?” thought the disillusioned Corinne.

And again, being moved only by the most atrocious boredom, Corinne in the middle of that room again asked a question.

“Why were the Ex-Former Canadian Mounted Police the only police force that survived the Great Smoke?”

John Alexander took a penetrating look into Corinne's eyes.

“By a simple rule not possessed by the rest of the police forces of that time,” John Alexander knew how to use silences well. “It was the only defense corps that banned smoking.”

A prolonging “wow” arose from the throats of Peter and Corinne.

“All the old police forces allowed…” John made another deliberate pause, “smoking among their ranks. Poor puppets of disease. All these entities were struck down by the Great Plague. All but us.”