Wednesday, May 24, 2017

The Dichotomy of Political Violence


The agents arrive at the corner of the building; matt black against the alleyway shadows, weapons dull gleaming. Intelligence has led them to believe that Haptic Destra is not to be trusted, that her voice has become too loud.
To the white noise soundtrack of the war on everything they have gathered her data and built up the evidence against her.
The world knows nothing of this.
The agents approach the revolving doors of the empty building that official data proclaims to be the home of Haptic Destra.
She watches from the flat roof of a building on the other side of the street.
Contemptuous in their arrogance, aloof in their contempt, they, after all, hold all of the cards, all of the weapons and all of the technology – or so they think.
They are winning the war.
The planes are in the air, their presence sometimes media-spectacular (a necessary brandishing of weaponry) and sometimes covert-invisible - depending on the truth-economic agenda.
The agents are on the stairs, their armour will be no match for the charges that await Haptic’s signal, the fuse that awaits her flame.
Across the world they’re reducing cities to blood-soaked rubble, this particular building will be nothing in comparison, but will almost certainly be a far greater media event in the war – significance is location dependant:
here - terrorist attack – evil
there - war on terror - good.
The button is on the phone; the phone is in her hand; her head is clear for the first time in forever.
The agents are in an empty room, the myth of security is instantly torn; ripped ear to ear from the establishment’s pale and aristocratic throat; the code word for today is Nothing.


Tales for the attention deficit reader

1 comment:

Harlequin said...

this is great stuff. The last few sentences... love 'em!