Would all the earth succumb to the concrete blanket of mankind? Was that the best legacy they could leave? Was their vision that limited?
One day there would come a time when it would be more profitable to tear these trees down than to leave them. Then there would be no power on earth that would save them. Even concerned consumers couldn’t stand in the way of profits anymore.
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Four people, four rebels. Rejecting society or rejected by it – either way, they have had enough. They have decided to fight – and they have taken on the government on its most dangerous and brutal front.
Will they survive?
And have they thought about what comes next?
Or why they are fighting?
Will their convictions be a match for the crimes they will have to commit and the guilt that comes with them?
Read an excerpt here.
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Scott Bailey is an author and blogger. His works include the dystopian novel “Mankind Limited”, “Thirteen Tales” – a collection of Ghost Stories and “A Spring of Dreams” collection of poetry, plus his latest work, a collection of epic poems – “Andervayne’s Dream”. His blogging ranges across family articles, poetry and short stories and even the odd book or movie review.
Those ones and those zeroes
Paint glorious pictures
On our screens
In our minds
That bring us closer
To being
The things we don’t understand
Does the earth miss
The hard and distant touch of
The rocks from the stars
Brave New World (Aldous Huxley) shows us almost perfect social control by programming people at birth – even before birth. People as used like cattle unaware and caring for nothing.
1984 (George Orwell). The people are fully aware of the hell they are in and the control the state has over them – they are kept in line by fear.
Mankind Limited (Scott Bailey) shows capitalism being used as the perfect tool of social control keeping the cattle both happy and unaware.
Until a few people start to see the cracks.
Years of servitude
Have begat
More years of servitude
Leading to
A question
Is it time
To Disobey
With playful passion
Light dances on the ripples
Until the freeze comes
What lies within that deep dark world?
That immensity of green threat
Where lies the leviathan of doom
In that swelling encompassing brine
Where plankton swirl through tentacles
That writhe and sway and curl and wave
And small fish dart discreet?
The leviathan’s milky domain!
Filled with cries of beasts the creature eats
Where crescendos rise and pull the heart with sighs.
The leviathan shifts with a thrashing fit
A rumble excites the waves.
And gulls drop and chop their prey and hop
from surf to spray to cloud to rock.
The whole sea moves with a great heart’s beat
Where will its great thoughts lead?
Will it be content to nibble and gnaw
Or rise with a tumultuous roar?
A great green wall with weight of stone
While here, nearby, and all alone
I
Stand
On the sand
Unsure
I anticipate
The dissipation
Of the all
The scattering
Of goals
The rise of dreams
To ride
Upon the mists
To be blown
Upon the winds
To reside
In clouds
And hide
In trees
To sleep
In earth
Drink water
Sup sunlight
Weep rain
And sigh
He should have taken
The holiday he needed
Forever too late
If I
Cease to exist
Will my
heart and soul dissolve in the air?
If I
Breathe my last breath
Will my
Golden thoughts shine anywhere?
If I
unbind from this earth
And
Sail the sun
right out to the stars.
Will I
Find my way back?
Or
Roam forever that celestial park?
If I
Cease to exist
Will my
Precious dreams chase after my soul?
If I
breathe my last breath
Will my
Endless hopes continue to roll?
If I
Fly up from the earth
And
Spiral up to the bright dancing stars
Will I
Find my way back
Or
Make my home where galaxies are?
Hard to exist
Back to back to the hammer of flesh.
Gasping for breath
Tried escape from this strangling mesh.
Tied hard to the earth
Brought to ground by invisible hands.
If I
Find my way back
Will I
Find my house fallen in sands?
Shout to exist
Drink the sun and swallow the air!
Savour the breath
Turn the corner and take up the dare!
Stand firm on the earth
And
Walk the roads under the stars.
We’ll find our way back
While our dreams fly where galaxies are.
“Have we reached full coverage?”
“Not quite yet but we will very soon, the momentum has built and it will hit critical mass in a few days. It needs no further intervention on my part.”
“We have all the channels covered?”
“Everything! From the popular to the obscure. From hard copy books to online articles. From political diatribes to Twitter. From old newspapers to blogs and click-bait articles.”
“And we have hooked everyone in – no matter their passion, no matter their inclinations?”
“We have everything – we have erotica, geological patterns in the earth’s crust, astronomy, astrology. We have Game of Thrones and Star Trek. We have novels from established authors and fan fiction. Hell, we have fanfiction erotica stories about the Star Wars characters crash landing in Narnia! There’s no angle we haven’t covered.
His boss laughed.
“Ok, Ok. I get the idea.”
He paused
“And the subliminal messages?”
“So subtle not one has been detected.”
“They are taking effect?”
“They have done their job. The population is yours to command – or will be in a few more days. I would say probably enough to make no difference already.”
“Good. And no one else knows?”
“Just me and you.”
His boss smiled. A warm smile – full of sunshine and hope that he rarely graced on anyone. It made him feel pride in a job well done.
“Good,” his boss repeated, “now, just step through this door.”
Memorise
All the sighs
Every loving glance
And long slow dance
Hold them tight
As we approach the night
Sanitise
Then fill with lies
Squeeze out the dreams
With mindless streams
Of celebs and fear
Until no one is here
Realise
And cherish the wise
Thoughts that flow
Before they go
Into the night
So hold them tight
Characterise
Categorise
Into a box
And cattle stocks
To milk and drain
To strike the brain
Live your dreams
For our revenue streams
Complete the bucket list
No source to be missed
Hold on to the light
For our gold so bright
Enamoured
By the glamour
Of the eighties
We stuck our heads
In the nineties sands
The new century
Is one of denial
Our time has peaked
There’s only decline
Left
No rhyme or reason
Bad luck keeps on reigning down
Good luck’s hard to find
The sun reaches out
And excites the northern sky
A watcher’s pleasure
This book shows the how society could evolve if capitalism were allowed to follow through to its extremes. It’s a dark shadow of this world. Or is it? Is this the world that we already live in?
Enter a world of pressure and release – rebellion and doubt and the rediscovery of a simple Secret the rulers of the world would rather you not know.
Marc trudged on with life, marching in line with his fellow workers. Weighed down by the everyday burdens of life, the pressure to conform, to succeed or face destitution.
Yet he knew, in his heart that it was all wrong, the questions squirmed like fiery dragons in the pit of his heart, beneath his deepest darkest doubts.
Until they grew and burst his sanity, set him on a path of defiance and rebellion. A path that would cross three others – all like him seeking answers.
A path of danger and adventure that would see him marked as a terrorist and fleeing for his life. It would see him find love and heartbreak, hope and despair, Most of all, it would open his eye to the possibility of an ancient and powerful secret that might answer all his doubts and fears.
If he survived.
Trapped. In a world where everything is measured and control pervades every area of life, four people begin to break down. Instead, they break through the walls of deceit and propaganda and into a world of revolution.
Each, in their way, vows to overthrow the established order. They embark on a journey against the forces arraigned against them, forces of state and self-doubt.
Ultimately their paths converge on a dangerous road and the discovery of an ancient secret.
One one level this is a story about how different people react the ever growing and relentless pressure of everyday oppression. It explores their journeys as they are broken and rebuilt and investigates their modes and motivations for rebelling.
At another level, it is a critique on the darker side of capitalism and free markets and how that has driven us further and further away from the evolutionary advantage that gave us supremacy in the first place. It questions whether the human race has doomed itself or whether we still have the capacity to wrench ourselves from the track we have so tightly committed our society upon.
Resting on the coast
The soothing sounds of the sea
Fill this empty shell
Hope holds back the tide
Stays the shifting golden sand
Thin mist arises
In the gambler
There is a yearning
Hidden
To leave behind the rat race
The frenzy and the risk
And just amble
Life is a carousel
Bright, distracting,
Going around in circles
Fun
While its lasts
The painted ladies
Thousands fly from Africa
To be lunch for birds
Kept in deep dark fog
With tantalising beacons
But we remain lost
Spring showers cascade
The blackbird enjoys the hour
Worms join the party
In all the bluster and noise
There is lust
Hidden
William considers himself the only true revolutionary there has been. Living a life of utter destitution below the city, he leads a community of people the rest of the world sees as outcasts and losers.
His is the long game. He know’s the aim, he knows what he is fighting for.
He also knows that he will probably never see the results in his lifetime.
So when the chance to act, the chance to make a difference presents itself will he forget his principles and give up his long-term plan, or stay resolute to his goal?
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Richard burns. He burns with a fury that is too bright for him to look at. He fights the system in whatever inventive ways he can concoct.
He never asks why he fights or what his ultimate goal is. He just needs the fight.
So defeat almost crushes him, forces him to ask himself questions he has been afraid to ask all his life.
Can he survive the answers?
Tradition is the echo of oppression
The long shadow of old power
The dark night of the poor
A back drop for wealth’s fireworks
Yet its the poor who cling
Fast to slow-moving tradition
As the controllers far above
Play their fears like violin strings
Jane is a rebel. Of sorts. She engages in rebellious activity and she is good at it. If anyone had tracked her exploits they might say she was a genius. Because that was correct no one had ever tracked her.
But the truth was that so far in her life she had been a follower, not a rebel. She had followed her brother into rebellion and lent her genius to his to fight whatever foe he chose next.
She knew nothing else. It had been her life. And she did not realise that her heart was not in it. Not until the right catalyst lights up her passion and her anger. Then her genius is given the chance to really shine.
Yet will she rise to the challenge?
Marc is a model citizen, devoted to the ideals of modern society. Moderately successful in his career, climbing the ladder with a beautiful partner by his side.
So why is he plagued by nightmares? Why is he so disaffected? What is the truth that he can feel trying to poke its way through the noise of his everyday thoughts?
And where will it lead if he finally listens to that truth?
The snowflake’s fate is
To melt, to make great rivers
Thus quenching the flames
A ring of solid light
Hovers just above the ground
Spinning with infinity
Casts glamour all around
This is
Where the white wolves dance
It is said the be the child
Of the seed of forbidden fruit
Born from secret knowledge
Found on a hidden a hidden route
Around it
The white wolves still dance
The colour pulses wild
Blue, silver and pure white
Dragging hearts round and round
Beneath the starlit night
And so
On the white wolves dance
In a time-worn trench, they dance
Circling below the light
So deep the light they cannot see
The circle is out of sight
Yet still
On the white wolves dance
The circle has been burnt
Into their very eyes
So while the dark wolf dreams
And while the dear time flies
Onwards
The white wolves dance.
So high upon their mountain
On an island on a lake
Isolated and secure from
The world they do forsake
This is
Where the white wolves dance
Moxie not talent
Seems to be an effective
Qualification
Tailor-made suits
Tailor-made holidays
Tailor-made experiences
Tailor-made careers
Tailor-made relationships
Tailor-made friends
Tailor-made lives
You know
No matter the tailor
Clothes just don’t fit me well
Consider me
The scruff
And happy to be
We bumble along
In this universe
Buzzing with trivia and angst
While the sun roars
Black holes yaw
And starlight races by
Life bubbles up
Here and there
Obsessed with itself
As it is wont to be
The vacuum does not care
Maybe one day
While bumbling
Life will stumble
On the correct change
In the few idle moments of the day
The few
The very few
I think
I dream
Big plans
And small
How I can achieve my goals
How I will relax tonight
A film?
A beer?
Finish my masterpiece
Find fame and fortune
And then the moment’s gone
Reality bites
Decisions are taken away
And I am the whim of everyone else again
Maybe
I should stop thinking
Stop dreaming
So my dreams
Are no longer buried
In disappointment
Rapists come and go
like bills
grit your teeth
bear it
pay
Carry a dagger
close
no guarantee
a talisman
a cross
Hide in the woods
crunching leaves
above
beneath them
a thousand bones
Click, click
Bang, bang
You make it a film!
a song.
a hero’s theme
Click, click
Bang, bang
My mother didn’t pay
didn’t bear her cross
didn’t carry her cross
now lays beneath hers
My best suit
stained by the passing
the violent end
of my daughter
in my arms
Now you tell me
in your yellow coat
shining stripe
proud nation
Go back whence you came!
The caper is up
The plot has escaped
From all those lords and ladies
In their ermine capes
We know their game
Time for revolution
Is that what we’ll do?
Or just carry on the same?
“My patience is almost spent.”
“I apologise Mr. Dickens. The situation is complicated.”
“I have been hearing that for two weeks now! And have been given nothing! No answers! I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what has happened to me. Everyone talks strange and treats me like some kind of alien or freak show. And where are my fucking family!”
For a second the Doctor looked horrified. Then he quickly composed himself.
“Again I can only apologise. But I will explain now. When I do you will understand our … reticence. “
“About time..”, muttered Henry.The Doctor gave him a look of pity.
“Brace yourself. “
Henry suddenly felt cold. The Doctor went on.
“Our records show that you were in a cycling accident.”
He pronounced cycling as if he didn’t know what the word meant.
“You suffered severe brain injuries. You were put into a coma to try to protect your higher brain functions. When the swelling had subsided the medical team tried to revive you. They failed. You remained in a coma.”
Henry shifted in his chair. His voice was broken as he spoke.
“How long?”
“Ten years.”
“I have been out for ten years?”
“It’s more complicated. While you were under the world around you changed. It got worse, a lot worse. Your wife… well it seems she was a sharp woman. She saw things clearer than most. For one thing she left us plenty of notes. That’s why we know so much.”
Henry felt a growing sense of dread. But he kept silent.
“Because she saw things clearly she prepared, took action. What I am going to tell you will be hard for you to hear. But bear in mind that with the benefit of hindsight we can see that what she did was for her family. For your children. She took steps to protect them.”
“Protect them?” His heart was racing. “Protect them from what?”
“From war.”
“There was a fucking war?” The Doctor flinched again, but he went on.
“Yes. It was a dark time.”
“World War Three?”
“Not quite. I mean that’s what people expected. What your wife thought was coming. But it was not and all-encompassing war like that. No one side against the other. No. What transpired was a series of many many, small wars between countries.”
He shuddered and continued.
“You might think that would have been better than a world war, but it was not. It was far worse. With just about every country in the world caught up in their own conflicts there was nobody to coordinate any kind of peace deal. No one to talk to anyway if there had have been. So the wars dragged on, for years, decades.”
“Decades? I thought you said ..” the Doctor stilled him with a look.
“Your wife saw the dark times coming. She took steps to protect her family. The first of which was she remarried. “
“She… what? She..”
“She married into immense wealth. And she used the money to protect her children and you. We know she did this well as we know they survived the dark times.”
“They are alive! I can see them!”
“No. You cannot. They are…. let me finish.”
A lump of dread was threatening to strangle him.
“She also tried to protect you. With all the resources of her great wealth she threw everything they had at the time towards reviving you. Nothing worked. Finally, when it looked darkest and there was no guarantee that anyone would survive she threw you one last desperate lifeline. An experimental treatment.”
The Doctor paused, looked him deep in the eye.
“She put you into suspended animation.”
Henry felt chilled to the bone.
“So no, you cannot see your wife and children. They have been dead for over two hundred years. We have only just been able to awaken you.”
“No. No, this can’t be. It’s some sort of sick joke isn’t it? There’s cameras in here. Well it’s not funny! I want to see my family!”
“Please Mr Dickens, please calm down. I know this is a lot to take in and I am sorry. But there is more. There is something else you need to know.”
“Calm down? Calm the fuck down? I want my family in this room! Here and now! Don’t give me any more bullshit.”
The doctor nodded very slightly, subtly, but Henry noticed.
It was too late.hands he didn’t see took a firm hold of his arms. Held him steadfastly. He felt a cold disc of metal against the skin of his neck, there was a hiss, then he fell swirling into darkness.
“You want me to what!?”
Henry looked at the panel before him, twelve men and women, with utter disbelief.
“Mr Dickens. We understand that you have a lot to take in over the last few weeks.”
“A lot!” Henry stared. How could they possibly understand. He has lost everything. His family, his love, his world. He had seen very little of this world but he had seen enough to know that it was not his. He was an alien here.
And now this.
“We understand that you have lost a lot. You have to understand that the world has lost a lot too.”
“I have heard all about your wars. Lots of people died. Yes.”
“They were not our wars, “ said the chairman of the panel, his voice calm and cold. “And I don’t think you have an appreciation of just how many people died, or what that meant.”
Henry didn’t see what any of it had to do with him. The chairman continued anyway.
“The population of the earth was cut by 75%. You have no idea what that did to us. There were very few people left to run things. Very few who knew how to keep things running. Power stations failed. Oil wells stopped pumping. Machines broke down. Nobody knew how to rule, how to respond to the disasters. All that had been wiped away in war after war.
“The times after the wars were darker than the actual wars. The world came close to slipping into barbarism. In many places it did.”
“And you came along and saved it,” said Henry sourly.
“We survived. We were not involved – because we were overlooked. We had no wealth, no strategic value. Largely we were forgotten up in the mountains.”
He paused, letting Henry take in his words. Henry said nothing so he continued.
“We don’t really know what triggered many of the wars, people say it was largely financial – but those are theories, based on times gone by. What we do know is that as things got more and more desperate the terms of the conflicts changed. They became more ideological. In many cases fiercely religious. This was why many of them could not be stopped, there came a point where reason stopped being any part of the fighting.
“It was another reason we were not drawn into it. As Buddhists we eschewed all the arguments for fighting. But we were also no threat to anyone. Those that were bent on converting the world, well – most had forgotten us, or were just leaving us to last.
“So in the end, we survived just by being the last ones standing. We were the only thing left close to being a coherent nation.
“And we were used to living frugally. We were in a unique position to fill the niche so to speak.
“So people flocked to us. They saw our way of life working. Saw it as a light in the dark, a hope.”
“And you made them all convert!” Henry spat.
“Not at first,” replied the chairman. “That was not our way, never had been. But it was a disaster. Trying to accommodate everyone’s views, conflicting ways of doing things. Trying to keep on top of all the old tensions, historical hatreds and prejudices. Well it almost tore us apart. And we were so fragile then, we still are.”
The chairman leaned forward.
“You have to understand something. The earth is damaged. It’s worn out, and depleted. It will never recover, not in the ways we would want it to. The comforts and luxuries of generations past have gone. If we are to survive we must change our ways. And some of those ways might seem extreme to you. They are – but so is our situation.”
“So I have to convert to Buddhism! No choice!”
“That is correct. and it has to be genuine. You must live by our ways.”
“What do you do check up on me? Monitor me? Give me exams every month or something.”
“We do not need to. The way our society is structured, if you do not follow our ways, it would be obvious. If your thoughts do not flow with those around you – it will be grossly evident to all around you.”
“So I am not even allowed to think outside of your precious bloody ways.”
“As I said, the ways are extreme, and your manner does not fit – at the moment.”
Henry snorted in derision. Did they really think he was going to take this.
“And if I refuse?”
“We cannot allow the possibility of disruption to the balance. You will be executed.”
Henry stared open-mouthed.
“You are kidding! That doesn’t sound very like the Buddhism that was around in my time.”
“Maybe not – we have had to make our sacrifices too. But we are humane.”
“How can killing someone be humane?”
“You would die happy and fulfilled. We have our ways”
“Well hoo – fucking – ray!”
“Are you sure that you do not want to change your mind?” said the monk. Henry assumed it was a monk. He looked like the Buddhist monks from his own era but he just didn’t know any more.
He wasn’t sure he cared either.
“Why would I do that?”
“So you can live,” said the monk with surprise.
“What for? My life is gone. Everything I knew is gone. My life would be as a stranger in a cage of rules I don’t want and don’t understand. I can’t live like that.”
“You haven’t given it a chance. You have no idea the peace and joy of our lives. You are judging us by your primitive standards. You…
“Enough!” A voice of authority barked from a hidden source. The monk started and looked guilty and continued preparing the elaborate machine Henry was embedded into.
Joy indeed! Henry snorted to himself. Get on with it, he thought.
The monk appeared to comply. He stepped back, nodded at the back wall and left.
The machine hummed and enclosed further around Henry like some futuristic iron maiden. A needle swung into his vision, poised at his neck and then stopped.
The voice spoke again.
“It saddens us to do this friend. But our society, mankind, must survive.”
“Yes, yes. I can imagine the tears you are shedding.”
“You will not change your mind?”
“You will not let me live among you without converting?” Henry countered.
“No.”
“Not even for a limited time – say a month, to see if you can change my mind?” The sarcasm in his voice told them all he did not expect any reasonable answer to that.
“No.”
“Then get on with it!”
“Very well. Judge! Carry out the execution.”
Henry didn’t even take a breath. He’d had enough, reached his limit. He wanted it ended.
Nothing happened. He looked up, the needle stayed poised, he could almost see the poison dripping from it.
“Judge! What is happening? Carry out the execution.”
“No.” The new voice was quietly defiant.
“What? Judge, carry out your task, execute him.”
“No!” What Henry presumed was the Judge’s voice was louder and firmer this time. “I will not. He is right. We should give him time amongst us.”
“This is not acceptable, Judge, do your job!”
“What does it say about our society if we do not trust it to be good enough to sway him? If we are scared that it so weak that a single man can topple it? We need to start our own healing, and it should start with him. We will give him his time. One month. If he is still not convinced, I will carry out the sentence.”
“This is not acceptable, Judge!”
Something stirred in Henry. Suddenly, out of nowhere he wanted what the Judge was offering him. A chance. A chance to live.
“You will accept it. I am the only one in this world who can carry out this sentence and I will not.”
“Your apprentice…”
“Will not be able to carry it out. I have already locked him out of all the processes. Only I can release the locks. He will have his time.”
“Next up, we are talking to the sensation of the age. The man who was frozen in time and has awoken to join us in the future. The man who escaped death twice and who is shaking the world. The man the leaders fear, the man who asks questions.
“Well today, we hope, he will be answering some of our questions.”
The interviewer turned to Henry while the applause of the audience died down. Henry squirmed uncomfortably. Of all the damn things to survive into this century it had to be talk shows! And he was the fucking subject.
He had to remember not to swear too. He had learnt it was considered way more offensive in these times than his own.
“Mr Dickens, thank you for joining us, let us begin with the biggest question.
“OK.” said Henry.
“We have all heard your remarkable story, it has tugged at all our hearts, we all grieve for your losses. The question we have is, why did you refuse conversion when offered at first? Why, as it appears did you choose death?”
Henry was suddenly overwhelmed with emotions that he struggled to keep under wraps. Grieve for my losses? What could they possibly understand about his losses! The very stupidity of the question betrayed how little they could understand.
How could he answer that?
The audience did not let him. A voice shouted out.
“Why didn’t you just convert!? What’s wrong with our way of life?”
Henry couldn’t see the source of the voice. He sounded like a fanatic, a tone not uncommon in this new world he had discovered.
“I knew nothing about it, you expected I would just convert, without questioning what I was getting into.”
“What’s to question? This way of life has saved us, saved humanity.”
People clapped and cheered the questioner.
“Has it? Or has it turned you all into cattle? Sheep that blindly follow ‘the way’.”
The audience booed and jeered at him, he was a little surprised. His opinions were not exactly secret, they had been broadcast around the world for the two weeks since his stay of execution.
He was the biggest news story of the time.
Hardly surprising as very little else seemed to be happening in the world.
They had peace OK. And it was boring.
“Let him speak!” another voice rang out above the protests.
The audience quietened down, shocked that someone, one of their own appeared to be supporting him.
“Let us hear what he has to say. If our society is so perfect then what possible threat could he be?”
Henry was surprised himself to hear a small ripple of applause supporting this new stance.
He spoke.
“Sure, you have peace. Your society is a model of sustainability and balance. I admire it in many ways. But it is frozen, you are so scared to upset the balance you allow no change. You have stopped growing. You might survive for now, but when change comes – when it is thrust upon you, you won’t know how to deal with it, how to adapt.
“You are like a rose, frozen in liquid nitrogen. Beautiful, preserved for all time, but dead. And easily shattered with a single blow.”
“Why didn’t you just pretend? Just convert and be quiet?” said the original voice.
Henry stood angrily now.
“I spent the whole of my old life dreaming of being someone. Of making my mark on the world. Leaving behind a legacy beyond just my genes. But I didn’t, I was nothing. I worked, I existed, I supported my family, I loved. But nothing more than what every other person was doing around me. I always dreamed one day, one day – but that day was never to be.
“And now – you expect me to just shut up and become just another cog in the machine again. With even less freedom and liberty than before? Well fuck you all if that’s what you think.”
“Savage!” a woman screamed.
“No! He is right! Why can’t we question things? Why can’t we change things?”
“Do you want war to return? Do you want our blood?”
“We can question without conflict!”
Suddenly the audience erupted. Everyone was on their feet, trying to shout down each other. Henry thought it looked evenly split but it looked messy.
The aggression was rising.
The flabbergasted host turned to his assistants.
“Get him out of here!”
Hands grabbed in and he was whisked away.
Two days later he was back in the machine. He was not afraid, or angry any more. He just felt resigned.
He couldn’t resist a dig though.
“What happened to one month?”
“The situation has become critical,” said the hidden voice. “As feared your presence amongst us has caused much disruption.”
So he had heard. It seemed the feeling of that show audience reflected that of society at large. It has sparked great debate. Even some protests he had been told.
Well, maybe that was something.
“So Judge?” Henry asked wryly. “Changed your tune too?”
“The Judge is not present,” said the original voice. “His apprentice will carry out the execution.”
“Oh? Worked out a way past the safeguards and locks then?”
“Unfortunately no. We have been forced to take more drastic measures. This injection is more direct, more painful I am sorry to say.”
“What happened to your humanity then?” smiled Henry. He felt slightly manic now, he could almost laugh at his own imminent death.
There was a sudden bang, and he thought he could hear shouts in the distance. He looked up surprised. It felt suddenly like something unplanned was happening.
“Please continue,” said the voice. It sounded hurried, unsure.
The machine hummed into life, the needle bore down on him.
Well this was it, he had tried, in this his second life, to make a difference. It was a shame he would never know if it had worked.
There was a louder bang and suddenly glass broke. Henry turned his head to see the room being broken into. People were storming the place.
He seemed to suddenly see very clearly what was happening. They were trying to save him, but they were doing more than that.
They were leading a revolution.
Maybe they would bring conflict back to their society, maybe they would tear it down, but he was sure they would build something better.
As the crowd tried to surge past the security trying in vain to hold them back the needle pierced his skin.
They were too late. Even as they broke through he felt the darkness descending.
But he was happy and fulfilled.
Keys can lock and jangle
Hold us safe and secure
Take away liberty or open up the doors
And the doors they can open….
Silver is the primary key
The opens up our home
We do have gold but is worn
From use and years and time
Some keys are rows of black and white
And open up our hearts
With wondrous weaving melodies
Soaring sounds from worlds apart
But the keys that give me magic
And warm my ailing heart
Dance beneath my fingertips
As dreams flow from my art
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
A fitful candle
The scratching
Of a quill
On parchment old
A chill
A shiver
A creeping smile
A glint
Ghosts
Are born
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
The red sails are rising
In the grey of the dawn
The grey spume is parting
Before the forlorn
Drawing out passion
Promising dreams
To the young and the lost
Into the sea they stream
The red sails are gone
Over the blue
Long is the draught
Of its bitter brew
The red sails are parting
Tearing apart
Lovers and mothers
From the vein of their hearts
The red sails are empty
Of all that they took
The decks all wiped bare
Dreams all forsook
The red sails are cursed
My mother’s onshore
But none will set sail
To settle the score
I stand on the shore
Unsure. Intimidated
By the great green deep
Also inspired by an old and longer poem -> here
The secret passenger
Scampers around
Just looking for a snack
Innocent, unaware
Of the death that he carries
Why aren’t we railing?
Why aren’t we mad?
Why do we sit in silence?
In apathy so sad.
Is the sickle blunted?
The hammer dropped and cracked?
Has the guillotine lost its edge?
Has liberty backtracked?
The peasants have moved on
From field to factory to desk.
Is it beautiful progress
Or captivity grotesque
So day after day
after day after day.
We struggle and toil
No time to play.
We hand over our freedom
We hand over our cash.
While the fat cats sleep
on their growing stash.
Where is the spirit of liberty?
The hero in the square?
The lone horse trodden woman.
Defanged are those who care.
Where is the local
The friendly greengrocer
Baker, butcher
The watering hole
The fire we gathered around?
Now we are islands
Floating in a digital sea
Waving to each other
Smiling, winking, liking
While we drift apart
In the red embers
The wake of the forest fire
Fresh green shoots arise
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 