The Protest

The Protest

A Short Story

The television was always on in the background, but neither of them ever paid much attention to it, regarding it as mostly background noise. They were both on their laptops, chatting with their friends and each other, though they were only 4 feet apart. They could sit in this stupor for hours, only pausing to get food and occasionally text a friend on the go. Their mother worked long hours with the government and they hadn't seen their father in years so this routine was set in stone. When their mother would arrive home they would only give the shortest of greetings before attaching themselves back to their technology again, preferring to chat with her once she joined in online. They never went outside except for walking to school; they lived solely in their virtual world.

The day was like any other, with time fading from meaning as they vegetated, until she heard the word "rebellion" coming from the screen. She turned from the computer, slightly intrigued, and looked at the TV. The scene showed footage from the protestors outside city hall as they bombarded the building with slogans and the occasional stone. People bearing signs and masks rallied around one another, occasionally singing, finding solace in each other's beliefs. She went back to her usual business, but as the footage got more interesting she started to glance towards the screen more and more. Eventually, after 2 minutes of non-activity from her messaging system, her brother pulled himself away from his own screen.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

She started slightly and looked back at him. "Nothing, just watching the news." she stated simply.

He cocked his head skeptically and went back to his screen, too preoccupied to inquire. She glanced at him and then went back to her own screen, but still occasionally glanced upwards at the scenes on the television.

The days and the routine continued, however whenever there were clips of protest on the TV she would find herself watching them, rapt with attention. She started to feel something when watching the nameless people chant for freedom and equality, a feeling that maybe everything was not quite as perfect as it seemed in her technological world. The feeling started out small and seed like, however as the weeks went on she began to get preoccupied by her thoughts and emotions, a preoccupation unlike any she had experienced before. Her online activities decreased drastically as she got more and more caught up in the information displayed on the screen. She started to take breaks from the routine, choosing instead to walk around the neighborhood or draw the scenes from the television onto the rarely used paper her mother bought for them once. Her brother noticed the changes slightly; however he was too absorbed in his own world to care much.

On the day when she appeared in the room carrying a protest sign, her brother glanced up as she stood in the doorway, one hand on her hips.

"I'm going to go down to the city hall!" she declared.

Her brother arched a brow questioningly and then gave a bit of a chuckle. "What for?" he asked.

"To join the protests." When he looked at her mockingly she added "Just to see what they're like, I'm curious."

Her brother sneered at her. "Alright, you do what you want dear." he said condescendingly "Try not to get yourself killed!"

"Jerk." she muttered as he went back to his screen.

She arrived at the bus stop feeling excited and nervous about her quest. The bus itself was a new adventure; she had never ridden it before. Getting on it, she was slightly disappointed to see that it was almost empty, with only a few people in the back and blacked out windows. She paid the driver and sat directly behind him, bouncing her sign between her knees. She watched as the few people on the bus got off as they neared her stop, until finally she was the last one on the bus

"City hall." The driver eventually called, looking in the mirror at the girl. When he saw her sign and her young, excited eyes he looked at her sadly. "Are you sure this is your stop honey?"

"Yes sir!" She declared proudly as she exited.

As the bus drove away she looked at her surroundings. She was in a deserted city street, no vehicles or people in sight. The city hall was standing at the end of the street, imposing itself upon the other buildings in its golden splendor. But there was no one standing around it shouting or singing, no stone throwing. There was not a soul in sight.

She stood in the street, confused, her sign hanging limply in her hand. She walked towards the hall, thinking maybe that the people must be around back or hidden perhaps by the ornate bushes in the hall courtyard. But upon arrival she saw nothing, no one, nobody in sight.

"Hello?" She called, hoping perhaps that they might be hiding for some reason. No one but own echoing voice answered. She stood in the courtyard, shivering slightly as the wind picked up in the falling light of evening.

She did not see the small red light appear on her forehead, or hear the snick of the sniper rifle as the bullet embedded itself in her brain.

The policeman lowered his weapon from the roof of the hall as her body fell to the ground, her sign landing with an echoing clatter. He signalled to his counterpart the all clear and began to climb down to the ground. When he arrived his partner was already there, examining the girl's body with a care that only the new police tended to display.

"That's three in the last week," she said sadly as she looked up at him "the public must be getting restless."

He smiled knowingly down at her. "They're not, trust me. When you've worked this spot as long as I have you see little rises like this every now and again." He explained to her "It usually means that the arts department is getting more creative with the footage they create for the screens, they probably aren't sticking to the approved script again."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Boredom mostly, there might be some new people on staff that they want to show their CIG skills to, any number of reasons really. I'll have to report this rise to the chief; he'll talk to the department to see if there were any discrepancies and deal with it as necessary."

She shivered as she contemplated what that meant, glancing down at the body lying before her.

"Did you check for I.D?" he asked her.

"Yes, there was nothing, not even one from a school"

"No matter," he stated "we have her body, we can identify her later. Would you like to try your hand at creating her death story or shall I do it?"

"I can do it." she said, feeling nauseous as her eyes focused in on the precise little bullet wound.

"It should be simple, girls are always easy to fake," He said as he pulled out a cigarette, "a victim of a mugging gone wrong, rape, etc. The boys are harder to fake, too many strong young men dying and people will start to get suspicious."

"I'm surprised they aren't suspicious now," she muttered "you've been culling the population for how many years now?"

"Kaylee don't get snippy. You know the program is set up for the populations greater good!" He barked at her "These people may look innocent but they hold the seeds of rebellion within them. If they were willing to join those people that they see on their screen then they have that spark of fire that could bring our whole society down, you know this! Don't be getting sappy on me, we are the only people stopping this system from breaking down!"

He glared at her as she stared back defiantly "I know why we're doing this, Jack, I know someone has to. It doesn't stop me from caring though. These people are still people." she said boldly.

He deflated slightly as he took his young partner in, kneeling sympathetically by the body of the young girl. "Trust me dear," he said sadly "you'll stop caring eventually, one way or another."

She looked at him, a bit of fear flickering in her eyes, but before she could speak he turned and walked towards the front of the hall.

"Listen," he called "It's almost the end of our shift. Why don't we leave the body for the next team to clean up... give them something to do. Let's go back to my place and have a coffee or something. Log into Starbucks and hang out. You can deal with the story tomorrow; no one will ask many questions tonight, most of these people stop logging in online a few weeks before they come here anyways."

"Couldn't we really go out for coffee sometime?" She asked.

He laughed "I'm not sure coffee shops even exist anymore. Besides," he joked "you look much hotter online".

"Oh ha ha…" She muttered as she got up to join him.

The team walked away, laughing and joking to forget their dispute, the girl's fallen body lingering in the city hall courtyard, waiting for the next team to clean it up off the pristine walkway.