For the People

"The time has come!" the man upon the wooden box lying in the street shouts. "They have reaped what we have sown- it is time for them to repay their debts!"

The crowd that has formed around him shouts unanimous approval.

"Let us go and teach them what we mean to them- and how badly they have mistreated us!"

Louder shouts.

"And let none leave their duties unsettled. Today, we march to reclaim what is rightfully ours!"

That's that. With this last roar of approval, he has them- like putty- in his hands, ready to be molded. He's molding them into the shape of a gun.

The people who are in this crowd are familiar faces to the entire town- or at least, hopefully they are. They're elected government officials.

They collect torches and pitchforks like some all-too-happy-to-be-stereotypical mob- but a few who already had their guns with them draw those, and lead small groups into the town, into the fray.

They all leave eventually- they're calling in their loans; it's time for foreclosure.

Few noticed, as they left, that the man who was standing upon the box was not with them when they left. Instead of heading off, he stayed up upon the box, waiting, watching.

Eventually he gets down off of the box, as the last sounds of revolt die away, and opens the box- unseen hinges inside make it easy to do so- and he reveals a small ball and chain to himself. He chuckles, and says, "Ah, what better symbol of our oppression? We are bound to our duty and if we fail- though try our hardest we might- we are still ridiculed, yelled at, hated...."

He removes the ball and chain, and attaches it to his ankle.

Noises can be heard, growing. Eventually they are loud enough to make out- no longer are there screams of revolt but screams of terror- somehow, someway, the "regulars", the voters caught wind of the "revolution" and prepared a counter-strike: they managed to procure a tank. The politicians return, breathless, most in agony, running in horror from the new threat.

They reach their once-leader and ask, "Oh, what shall we do? They are preaching pure anarchy! The world is going to fall to bits!"

The man who used to be standing upon a wooden box in the middle of the street reveals his ball and chain to the men and women who used to drink up his words. "Do you see now? If they wish to change the government- no matter how wrong of a change it may be- we are duty-bound to the Constitution-" gasps of horror, of realization- "and must let them make their changes be made!

"No matter what, we have to serve them!"

The terror is almost tangible. If it was possible to truly smell fear its stench was filling the streets.

Then- an explosion and then...

All became night.