Devolution by Chris Papst

Author:Chris Papst [Papst, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-06-20T23:00:00+00:00

*

“The first mass gathering was more of a protest,” the reporter explained, standing nervously in front of the rowdy crowd. The pain in the eyes of those behind him manifested in wild screams and violent gestures. The cool, moist air was accented by the pungent odor of burnt wood and melted asphalt. As the morning fog lifted, it was soon replaced by a dark cloud of expanding smoke. “This one appears to have the signs of a riot.”

It had been more than a month since the citizens of Great Britain took to the streets in protest. Since, Parliament had remained gridlocked. The majority feared further financial collapse and looked to compromise and therefore spread the blame. The minority parties refused to negotiate, however, hoping the discontent would force new elections sweeping them to power.

The reporter continued. “This demonstration is not only larger than September’s, the tone is different.” The cameraman swung off the reporter to scan the angry crowd. “As you can see, there are no signs, no chants.” He paused. “There are also no children.”

Reality was not important to the elected officials. The millions who lost their jobs, hundreds of thousands who lost their homes, and tens of thousands who were hungry only served as potential voters. Culpability was vital.

“There’s a lot of negative energy.” The camera panned back to the wide-eyed journalist who began to edge his way through the crowd. “And for some people, this protest never ended as the economy continued its slide.” The reporter bounced around between the protesters. The crowd was much more forgiving for the cameraman.

“Zander,” asked the anchor from the desk, seeing the reporter struggle to negotiate a path. He pressed in his ear piece, shielding the noise. “What are people saying?”

“Well, Leah, it seems these people want Westminster and the world to know who’s in control.” He pressed deeper into the crowd.

“Are there police?”

“Yes. But they were late to arrive.”

“What about—”

“As I mentioned, for some, the protest never ended.” He emerged into a small circular opening. A group of five unkempt vagabonds sat blank-faced on the edge of the sidewalk in front of the entrance gates.

“These people have been here since the beginning.”

It looked like they hadn’t showered, shaved, or changed their raggedy clothes since.

The reporter lowered a knee to the curb to a single man. “Why have you remained for so long?” he asked loudly.

The shaggy, bearded man dressed in old gray and black clothes looked up. His eyes appeared soulless. “For our country,” he said, his voice uninspired.

The reporter held the microphone firmly, waiting for him to elaborate.

“We realized,” he continued, “this nation was being misguided. We can’t simply be content to voice our opinions. We must demand more.” His intense rhetoric failed to match his vapid delivery.

The camera panned to his right to the others in his party. At the end of that line sat a thin man dressed in ripped jeans. His long, curly brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He no longer wore a bright yellow shirt.

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