The streets are strewn with wrecked, burned-out cars and the gnawed remains of the dead. A cold wind howls down from the north, seeking the gap at the collar of my coat like an arrow to the heart. It is a half-hour before dawn, with the only light a faint, bluish skyglow and the flickering of candles down the block -- or perhaps larger fires, farther away. A coyote howls and another, closer, answers.
I can't let it frighten me. With a prybar, rubber tubing and gas can, I hope to siphon enough gasoline from the wrecks to get to work, if there's anything left downtown. A dozen hours ago, the generator was running and my co-workers were patrolling the fences, a block-sized island of order in a world gone mad....
Except, of course, that hasn't happened. I won't kid you: the news isn't great and the dim light of Caesarism flickers over the horizon like heat lightning. This is good or bad, depending on your choice of pundits, and a cunning plan or the surprise outcome of mutual intransigence, also pundit-dependent. Me, I don't know; all I know is that the rough beast slouches on towards our modern Babylon, with no recognizable face save that of Everyman. Tick-tock!
Tick-tock.
Update
3 days ago
3 comments:
And I don't know where I am because the government has furloughed the workers that control the GPS satellites.
I reread your post while adding wind noises with my mouth.
Great writing and a great post.
We may not have a SOTU address to endure.
So the shutdown has some benefits...
Government = Kabuki
pretty much covers it
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