A faded protest sign

This is a wee experiment….bear with me.

The revolution was over.  The ruling party told us so.  Each and every day in print and on Tv.  Tv that had the ad blocker switched off.  TV that no longer allowed you to skip the adverts.

It was over and we just had to accept it and move on.

Except I couldn’t.

Oh I tried, I tried so damn hard.  To the outside world, I was the very picture of compliance.  I even started to wear brown shoes to fit in.  Every single trend and fashion, I slavishly followed.  To stand out at this time was not an option.  Every day I would see the police carting away someone who felt that individuality was more important than freedom.  Every day they tracked down more and more and in the back of my brain, even I knew that fitting in soon would not be enough.  The pretence of my current life would soon have to come to an end.

The street corners were full of the ghosts of the past.  The terraces too, full of angry people raging against a system that had been designed to keep them in their place for far too long.  Protest signs held high alongside flags, proclaiming that we were just not going to take it anymore.

It did not last long.  Our battle cry faded along with the people.  When a system wants to break their subjects, it does not bend.  Each day more people signed their lives away and went back to their low paid, demeaning jobs.  They had to eat.  They had to live.

I hated them for a while.  Back when I had another life, before it all went wrong.

I hated myself for what I had become.

Occasionally, on those days when modern life became too much to process, I would hear the chants.  Our battle cries, ringing out against the loud drumming of a million police batons on riot shields.  Rebels spray painting signs of defiance.  The guns forever.  Even now, I don’t know what that means.  None of us thought what we would do when it was over.

Forever young.

Heh, if only we could have stayed that way.

Even now, I can still hear the whispers as I travel on the underground.

The alarm wakes me from another vivid dream.

Time to go to work.


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