“... protests against anti-supernaturals continue in Savannah, Georgia. The once-peaceful protests have escalated to violence and the police in the area are attempting to subdue the crowd. We have news correspondent Mel Arckey with us out there today. Can you hear us, Mel?”
The television in the backroom of a store shut off seemingly by itself. Two men—if you could call them that—had been watching it moments ago.
“This is very bad,” said one. He floated a few inches above the floor. It may have seemed odd in a different time. It's practically blasphemy these days.
“I don't know what to tell you, Jack. Nothing we can do to stop them.” Mercury had been called in early today for just this conversation. The ghost, Jack, trusted him enough to speak up about this. It was an honor to listen to such a wizened ghost, but Mercury didn't realize this. Or, more than likely, he did and simply didn't care. “Riots crop up. Riots stop.”
“It's been spreading. Can't you tell?” Jack fluttered in and out of existence for a moment. Completely normal. “It's almost large-scale. It's only a matter of time before one is in our town.”
“What do you think I can do about it?”
“Listen, Poof Boy. If any of my employees hear about a riot anywhere near this place, we'll have big problems. You keep it all on the down-low. We never had this conversation. And if any riots come near Sioux Falls you make sure the news hears none of it. The last thing we need is this place going out of business.”
Mercury was still trying to figure out what “poof boy” was supposed to mean. But he got the general idea. He just wasn't sure how he could possibly stop the media. People have been trying for years and nothing seems to have worked. So he didn't respond to the ghost. Not like he could, the man vanished seconds ago anyway. Popping a quick watermelon lollipop in his mouth, he went out to the store front to check the register for the third time that morning. The others would be arriving soon enough.