The Law Imprint · Nice, France

Every town has a courthouse and a coffee pot; Nice is no different. These days, Nice folks stream the lore pages late into the night, and Wherever Nice needs a story with a spine, the town obliges.

Let the record reflect the proudest fact in the town charter: there is not a dumb McSkunkian in law. Not one. The entire society are geniuses at law — it is their inherent nature, because they were created for one purpose: to back the I Am The Law Skunk, all of them, to the last stripe.

Every citizen took the levels of college. Everyone. No one carries an ignorance of the law, and no one hides the law from them — the two failures that break every other town were outlawed here on day one. The children are imprinted with the laws constantly, gently, the way a road sign works on a long drive: keep your eyes on the road, keep your hands on the wheel, keep your mind on driving — until the law hums in the head thirty miles later like a song that will not leave.

And so McSkunkville has no crime. It has a HISTORY of crime — a museum of it, studied respectfully — because when the McSkunkians took over the mastery of the law, they showed society something different: a town where everybody knows the rules is a town where nobody profits from breaking them. The record holds. The porch light stays on.

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