Hello all,
I would like to put some feelers out for folks who might be interested in working with me on short projects. Below is an example of a short story I wrote in about 24-hours to give you an idea of my writing. I can range broadly in style depending on genre.
A little about me: Grad Student - 29yrs old - (non-binary) female
We can build off of pre-existing story/story ideas I have or create one together. I would be interested in doing a short story, at a max of 6K words perhaps.
I enjoy a pretty wide range of genres and time periods. I have a (great/helpful) format for structuring stories and before we begin writing, I will have wanted us to have it structured so we have at least a basic idea of where we're headed. That being said, I do believe that stories have a life of their own and enjoy being surprised by the twists that inevitably fail to follow the plan because the characters decide things need to be a little different.
Take a look, if you're interested in working together please submit a writing sample. It can be via message on here or via PM.
--
Title: The Silent Coup
Words: 3120
Genre: Dystopian alternate history and humor
About: The fate of a nation rests in the hands of a wistful daydreamer with an unlikely power, who plays an important role in the rebellion against a powerful tyrant.
I would like to put some feelers out for folks who might be interested in working with me on short projects. Below is an example of a short story I wrote in about 24-hours to give you an idea of my writing. I can range broadly in style depending on genre.
A little about me: Grad Student - 29yrs old - (non-binary) female
We can build off of pre-existing story/story ideas I have or create one together. I would be interested in doing a short story, at a max of 6K words perhaps.
I enjoy a pretty wide range of genres and time periods. I have a (great/helpful) format for structuring stories and before we begin writing, I will have wanted us to have it structured so we have at least a basic idea of where we're headed. That being said, I do believe that stories have a life of their own and enjoy being surprised by the twists that inevitably fail to follow the plan because the characters decide things need to be a little different.
Take a look, if you're interested in working together please submit a writing sample. It can be via message on here or via PM.
--
Title: The Silent Coup
Words: 3120
Genre: Dystopian alternate history and humor
About: The fate of a nation rests in the hands of a wistful daydreamer with an unlikely power, who plays an important role in the rebellion against a powerful tyrant.
My stomach growled as I made my way down the long corridor with about thirty other Freedom Fighters, the elite forces of the resistance, or what was left of them us anyway. I hoped no one had heard - how embarrassing - and quickly looked down, pretending to fix my shirt so I could take a quick peek at the expressions of those nearest to me. Phew. I breathed a sigh of relief, everyone seemed to be lost in either their own worlds or deep in conversation. We were all headed toward the very back of the base where Stoakes would give her final debriefing in the large lecture hall.
As everything would begin in only a few hours, Stoakes would review the plan a final time and rally everyone together before it was set into motion. Most of the older rebels had been waiting decades for this moment, forced to sit back and watch the world rot around them while holding on to hope that their time would come to make a difference. Well, their time had finally arrived. I could almost feel a buzz in the air, excitement mixed with nervousness tinged with fear, but an undertone of hope surrounded us all like a tender embrace. Or like the hundreds of thousands of pounds of pressure pushing in on us from all sides, what with us being god knows how deep underground, I thought as I straightened and my gaze once more took in the unnatural and massive semi-circular shape of the Rebellion Base. I quickly focused on my feet instead. From the moment I’d arrived at the base about a year ago and the elevator traveled rapidly downward instead of up, I resolved denial would be the best method to handle underground bases. My decision is made, I thought sternly, Hope surrounds us like a tender embrace and nothing more. It was as if Stoakes’ firm hand lay on each of our shoulders, urging us forward to a brighter future. It was her plan, after all, that had given everyone this hope. Neither the tyrant nor the government would see it coming, no one ever did. The only problem was that the whole thing relied on me using my special ability. Apparently, my time had come too. I gulped and my stomach complained nervously.
The walk to the debriefing room at the end of the corridor was long and I shuffled forward silently beside the others, favoring the comfort of my own thoughts to the inevitable speculative conversations about whether I felt up to the dizzying task ahead of me. Other than the - my eyes darted up to the ceiling - daunting pressure I felt with all the responsibility placed on me for the plan to succeed, and despite being imprisoned by tons of rock, concrete, and who knew what else, I felt freer among the resistance than I ever did in the Camps. Besides, it seemed to be mostly the same pretty much everywhere; shackles of labor in Juvenile Facilities or Adult Work Camps, or imprisonment in Detention Camps. The tyrant stood by the Equalist belief, “Separate but equal”, which ultimately resulted only in many different forms of prison cells. At least my current cell is a Rebel Cell of Freedom Fighters, working to make a difference for the people.
I might have even preferred my assigned work at the Cellular Citizenship Identification Center (CCIC) above ground, but I’d only been granted admission to such a laidback, high-level facility because Stoakes cleared my criminal record before I’d even been born and assigned renegade hackers to track and alter my juvie test records so my work assignment would eventually land me at CCIC, where she was assigned as an Executive, with the ability to aide my escape to the resistance. I owed her everything. If my mother’s Criminal status had been passed on to me, upon birth my infant body would have been ‘donated to the pursuit of scientific achievement and advancement’. Instead, I had been granted not only a life but a purpose along with the means to accomplish it.
My eyes steeled as I arrived at the main doors to the debriefing room behind which a short walkway curved downward toward an impressive oak podium at the center of the stage below. Seats filled quickly as I made my way past rows of staggered seating toward a table with three chairs positioned beside the podium. As my stomach twisted in knots, I regretted my earlier decision to forego breakfast and hoped it wouldn’t growl again. I thankfully downed the glass of water that had been provided as I took the seat directly to the left of the podium. It might be enough to quiet my hunger for now. By the time the glass was back on the table, the few seats that remained vacant weren’t for much longer and the remaining two seats beside me had been occupied by additional resistance leadership. My heart raced, but I bowed my head and smiled at them in greeting as we awaited Stoakes. I was grateful the wait wasn’t long.
She commanded such a strong presence nothing more than her arrival into the room was necessary for everyone to fall silent and listen. Stoakes wasn’t physically large, a woman in her late sixties, she stood at a short five feet but her aura was fierce and she knew it. Lively green eyes shone intelligently beneath platinum blond hair cropped short to fall just over her ears as she stepped behind the podium and smiled out at the audience who’d begun clapping vigorously. Of course, her being an Executive Citizen also commanded a certain degree of awe. Although wrinkled with age, Stoakes had been the very first person with porcelain white skin I had ever seen. I imagined she must have been the first for many others in the resistance too, since the majority were like me, or darker.
“Renegades!” She began, her strong voice reverberating across the room. Positive murmurs traveled across the audience. “Rebels!” The murmurs grew in volume and assent. “Freedom Fighters!” The audience cheered loudly and Stoakes allowed them a moment before raising her hands for silence. As they quieted down, she continued, “The time for the Silent Coup has finally arrived!” More cheers. “We’ve been working toward this moment for many years,” she paused briefly. “Decades! We have planned, we have trained, and we are ready!” Eruptions of cheers escalated after each delayed inflection. It was as if the audience was a finely tuned instrument in the hands of a professional.
I felt immune to whatever spell the rest of them seemed to be under. Perhaps because I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, Not to mention the weight of the rocks pushing down on us all! Cheers continued washing over the stage in waves but I no longer focused on the speech. The words Stoakes spoke became distorted and distant until I could ignore them entirely. I wasn’t so certain I was as ready as everyone else seemed to be. It had been years since I had any need to use my ability before I met Stoakes, and while four years passed since then and I’d been training intensely, I couldn’t help but doubt my ability to perform under such stress. My attention snapped back to reality as Stoakes clapped a hand against my back.
“…which will all be handled by our very own, Carver,” she finished, directing her beaming smile at me and the crowd. More cheers rose up to meet her and my heart pounded in my ears. “At this stage of our plan, it will be inevitable that he,” Stoakes almost spat the word, “the despot, the tyrannous President-turned-Dictator, will be de-shtooned!” Silence met Stoakes for a moment before a giggle broke out in the crowd. Her brows furrowed in confusion before she turned quickly to face me. The giggle gave rise to laughter but Stoakes barely missed a beat, acting as if it had been a part of her speech all along. “He will be DETHRONED,” she bellowed and the laughter died down. Stoakes smiled and her hand found its way to my shoulder. “Just a glimpse of the power we have at our disposal to help us achieve our goals. Now, amplify this example a thousand-fold to the large scale relentless attack we have planned,” she paused for dramatic effect, “and we will have our victory!” Thunderous cheers arose and I breathed a sigh of relief as she withdrew her hand back to the podium, averting the attention that had fallen on me.
She continued on with her speech, the audience never losing their cue. My attention drifted again as I longingly wondered what might be left to eat in the mess hall this late in the morning - I’d honestly be happy with plain toast at this point, I’m starved! I thought, before Stoakes’ calm voice drew me away from my thoughts not for the last time.
“Carver, I can only imagine you must be nervous,” she began in a kind, low voice. I looked around quickly only to find everyone had been dismissed. Stoakes and I were almost the only ones left in the room. “We’ve gone over this time and again, you must learn to have disciplined focus. You’re capable of incredible things. The time has come for you to claim your destiny.” She paused as if to allow me to respond, but I had nothing to say. Stoakes smiled with a sigh and motioned with her hand for us to leave.
“Why don’t we go grab you a bite to eat before heading out?” I shot up, smiling and nodding, out of my chair immediately following her out of the room, happy to avoid the conversation she had been heading in.
–
The next few hours passed as if in a blur. I, along with three others who would travel with me, was outfitted with an Equalist security disguise to prevent detection from Loyalist forces as we traveled. Our first task would be to locate the White House, only a few mile’s trek and short drive from where the base’s elevator let out on the surface. We would then act as security reinforcement, ensuring Citizens remained a safe distance away from the stage that was set up in the middle of a large courtyard directly across from the White House. I would be in close enough range to do the deed, and then we would quickly disperse. It almost sounds easy when I lay it out like that, I thought in an attempt to mask my anxiety as I and the three other Freedom Fighters entered the elevator.
I wasn’t sure what to expect when we arrived at the surface. I had never traveled very far on the surface before. When Stoakes helped me escape from CCIC, we had done so via interconnected underground tunnels. What I hadn’t expected to see when the elevator doors opened atop a hill overlooking a good stretch of land were the massive concrete walls topped with barbed wire, crisscrossing deep into the horizon. The only exception to this landscape was the city where we were headed, the walls were much taller there, the buildings rose high into the sky.
My mouth gaped, They’re are all Camps? I had only ever seen those walls from the insides, I could never have imagined they stretched on so far. My face fell, “No one’s free?” The words escaped me before I could stop myself. I hated looking dumb by asking questions.
Two of my companions had already begun their trek downhill, a car would be waiting for us not too far from there, but the third companion had hesitated, waiting for me. When we made eye contact, hers held an almost tangible sadness.
“Executive Citizens are given Premium Upgrades™ but for the most part, it’s like this everywhere,” she said. “Welcome to the United Corporation of America.”
We spoke little after that. When the massive white skyscraper I had noticed from atop the hill was only a few blocks in the distance, we parked the car in a well-hidden alley and walked the rest of the way. It wasn’t until we were in place, holding back crowds of Citizens as they fought for the best positions to see the stage, that I spoke again.
The tyrant retained few traditions from the past but one he humored was called The Campaign. Every four years he gave an inaugural speech regarding his plans for the next four years of his 'Presidency’. Large cameras broadcast the event across the nation, but I never had reason to pay attention before now.
A booming voice spoke in what seemed to be an overly pleasant tone over the speakers, “Citizens, thank you for joining us on this momentous day! Before we welcome our President, let us proclaim the Pledge of Allegiance together!”
My eyes shot over to the Freedom Fighter that answered my question on the hill. She shrugged in response. We both took up the chorus as everyone recited the Pledge.
“I pledge allegiance to the nation
of the United Corporation of America,
and to the man for which it stands,
one nation under Trump,
indomitable, with equality and separation for all.
AMERICA IS GREAT AGAIN!”
As the last words rang out across the courtyard the cheery announcer returned, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Citizens and Executive Citizens, please rise to welcome, PRESIDENT TRUMP!”
I was taken aback when the stout man exited a large SUV and began making his way along a red-carpeted route to the stage, surrounded by guards. My eyes shifted to my companion once more.
“He’s not white,” I hissed in surprise. “Orange, maybe tan if we’re being kind.”
The Freedom Fighter held back a smirk and frowned instead, motioning with her head and communicating with her eyes that I should begin.
My eyes widened in response, worried that I’d already messed up, but I quickly eased my mind as Stoakes had taught me and focused all of my attention on the target.
Everything became muffled and I could faintly hear my heartbeat in my ears, soft and strong. The tyrant next worked his way through a crowd of Executive Citizens, shaking hands and greeting them personally. A perfect opportunity to begin. As his lips moved, I established a narrative in my mind, a sort of bad lip reading that under my directed focus would form a sync, causing the target to mirror the scrambled speech in my mind without their knowledge.
As the tyrant climbed the steps to the stage, a government official stepped forward to shake his hand.
“There’s Tommy,” said Trump jovially, the sensitive microphone on the podium already capturing his voice and broadcasting it. I would only later come to find the fellow’s name was actually Edward. “Diggin’ the formal shoes, buddy,” he continued, “I like those.” The crowd, who had all been smiling and cheering, began to falter.
As the resistance had hoped, the despot was too fearsome to correct. The man he had called Tommy nodded awkwardly and uttered a quick, “Uh, th-thanks.”
“I like it in Vermont, it’s cool,” Trump said, waving and smiling as the cameras captured the moment. Tommy/Edward chuckled nervously, unsure of what to do. “Doesn’t he look like he should teach at a university?” The tyrant smirked and waved the man off good-naturedly, taking his place before the podium. No one cheered now, many in the audience gave each other curious glances and concerned murmurs could be heard.
“Good afternoon, Citizens,” Trump’s voice amplified over the courtyard. “I’m kind of cramping up, so try to avoid the lasagna,” he began, his face grave. Someone in the audience broke and a laugh erupted, causing others to join in.
One brave advisor must’ve realized what all the others should have noticed immediately. The longer they allowed their President to make a fool of himself, the worse it would be for them later. The brave advisor stepped forward, interrupting the tyrant in an unprecedented manner, covering the microphone and speaking directly in his ear.
I felt a gentle squeeze on my left elbow and my concentration broke. I made eye contact with the Freedom Fighter and she nodded, indicating it was time to disperse. I watched the tyrant be escorted off the stage toward the White House as I worked my way through the throngs of confused people to rendezvous with the others back at the hidden alley where the car would be waiting.
I was the last to arrive and by the looks of the other three when I did, they had already celebrated our win. I was received with congratulations and smiles, but it felt stiff. I was relieved when we decided to head out and the Freedom Fighter I’d been speaking to sat with me in the back.
“We should celebrate,” the driver said, smirking into the rearview mirror and turning the radio on. As he flipped through the static to find a suitable music station, he paused at what sounded like a Nightly News® broadcast.
“Breaking news tonight on multiple fronts, Citizens. A terrorist plot stopped at the White House, and we have confirmation that the President has suffered a stroke. We’re going live to-”
I slid forward, gripping the seat before me, “What! That’s NOT what happened!”
The driver switched off the radio and the companion beside me placed a gentle hand on my leg, “We know, Carver, it’s ok.” I slid back in the seat and she pulled her hand back, satisfied once I’d calmed down.
“They had to make up something,” piped up the third rebel in the passenger seat. “Make it seem like they know what’s going on and have the situation under control.”
“Exactly,” barked the driver with a laugh. “Bet you they’re shitting their pants right now.”
A calm voice spoke up next to me, “The first phase of the Silent Coup has started,” she said smiling. “The remaining dominos will inevitably topple and we will silence him for good.”
All of their voices were happy, calm, and unworried. They felt none of the pressure I did. Guess it wasn’t the rocks after all. What they said weren’t lies, a crack in the foundation had been broadcast to the entire nation, something that had never happened before and it gave us an incredible opportunity. Stoakes’ plan was coming to fruition exactly as she’d said it would.
“Be proud,” came my companion’s voice beside me once more. “Our victory today was all thanks to you.”
I allowed myself to smile as I watched the world blur outside the window.
As everything would begin in only a few hours, Stoakes would review the plan a final time and rally everyone together before it was set into motion. Most of the older rebels had been waiting decades for this moment, forced to sit back and watch the world rot around them while holding on to hope that their time would come to make a difference. Well, their time had finally arrived. I could almost feel a buzz in the air, excitement mixed with nervousness tinged with fear, but an undertone of hope surrounded us all like a tender embrace. Or like the hundreds of thousands of pounds of pressure pushing in on us from all sides, what with us being god knows how deep underground, I thought as I straightened and my gaze once more took in the unnatural and massive semi-circular shape of the Rebellion Base. I quickly focused on my feet instead. From the moment I’d arrived at the base about a year ago and the elevator traveled rapidly downward instead of up, I resolved denial would be the best method to handle underground bases. My decision is made, I thought sternly, Hope surrounds us like a tender embrace and nothing more. It was as if Stoakes’ firm hand lay on each of our shoulders, urging us forward to a brighter future. It was her plan, after all, that had given everyone this hope. Neither the tyrant nor the government would see it coming, no one ever did. The only problem was that the whole thing relied on me using my special ability. Apparently, my time had come too. I gulped and my stomach complained nervously.
The walk to the debriefing room at the end of the corridor was long and I shuffled forward silently beside the others, favoring the comfort of my own thoughts to the inevitable speculative conversations about whether I felt up to the dizzying task ahead of me. Other than the - my eyes darted up to the ceiling - daunting pressure I felt with all the responsibility placed on me for the plan to succeed, and despite being imprisoned by tons of rock, concrete, and who knew what else, I felt freer among the resistance than I ever did in the Camps. Besides, it seemed to be mostly the same pretty much everywhere; shackles of labor in Juvenile Facilities or Adult Work Camps, or imprisonment in Detention Camps. The tyrant stood by the Equalist belief, “Separate but equal”, which ultimately resulted only in many different forms of prison cells. At least my current cell is a Rebel Cell of Freedom Fighters, working to make a difference for the people.
I might have even preferred my assigned work at the Cellular Citizenship Identification Center (CCIC) above ground, but I’d only been granted admission to such a laidback, high-level facility because Stoakes cleared my criminal record before I’d even been born and assigned renegade hackers to track and alter my juvie test records so my work assignment would eventually land me at CCIC, where she was assigned as an Executive, with the ability to aide my escape to the resistance. I owed her everything. If my mother’s Criminal status had been passed on to me, upon birth my infant body would have been ‘donated to the pursuit of scientific achievement and advancement’. Instead, I had been granted not only a life but a purpose along with the means to accomplish it.
My eyes steeled as I arrived at the main doors to the debriefing room behind which a short walkway curved downward toward an impressive oak podium at the center of the stage below. Seats filled quickly as I made my way past rows of staggered seating toward a table with three chairs positioned beside the podium. As my stomach twisted in knots, I regretted my earlier decision to forego breakfast and hoped it wouldn’t growl again. I thankfully downed the glass of water that had been provided as I took the seat directly to the left of the podium. It might be enough to quiet my hunger for now. By the time the glass was back on the table, the few seats that remained vacant weren’t for much longer and the remaining two seats beside me had been occupied by additional resistance leadership. My heart raced, but I bowed my head and smiled at them in greeting as we awaited Stoakes. I was grateful the wait wasn’t long.
She commanded such a strong presence nothing more than her arrival into the room was necessary for everyone to fall silent and listen. Stoakes wasn’t physically large, a woman in her late sixties, she stood at a short five feet but her aura was fierce and she knew it. Lively green eyes shone intelligently beneath platinum blond hair cropped short to fall just over her ears as she stepped behind the podium and smiled out at the audience who’d begun clapping vigorously. Of course, her being an Executive Citizen also commanded a certain degree of awe. Although wrinkled with age, Stoakes had been the very first person with porcelain white skin I had ever seen. I imagined she must have been the first for many others in the resistance too, since the majority were like me, or darker.
“Renegades!” She began, her strong voice reverberating across the room. Positive murmurs traveled across the audience. “Rebels!” The murmurs grew in volume and assent. “Freedom Fighters!” The audience cheered loudly and Stoakes allowed them a moment before raising her hands for silence. As they quieted down, she continued, “The time for the Silent Coup has finally arrived!” More cheers. “We’ve been working toward this moment for many years,” she paused briefly. “Decades! We have planned, we have trained, and we are ready!” Eruptions of cheers escalated after each delayed inflection. It was as if the audience was a finely tuned instrument in the hands of a professional.
I felt immune to whatever spell the rest of them seemed to be under. Perhaps because I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, Not to mention the weight of the rocks pushing down on us all! Cheers continued washing over the stage in waves but I no longer focused on the speech. The words Stoakes spoke became distorted and distant until I could ignore them entirely. I wasn’t so certain I was as ready as everyone else seemed to be. It had been years since I had any need to use my ability before I met Stoakes, and while four years passed since then and I’d been training intensely, I couldn’t help but doubt my ability to perform under such stress. My attention snapped back to reality as Stoakes clapped a hand against my back.
“…which will all be handled by our very own, Carver,” she finished, directing her beaming smile at me and the crowd. More cheers rose up to meet her and my heart pounded in my ears. “At this stage of our plan, it will be inevitable that he,” Stoakes almost spat the word, “the despot, the tyrannous President-turned-Dictator, will be de-shtooned!” Silence met Stoakes for a moment before a giggle broke out in the crowd. Her brows furrowed in confusion before she turned quickly to face me. The giggle gave rise to laughter but Stoakes barely missed a beat, acting as if it had been a part of her speech all along. “He will be DETHRONED,” she bellowed and the laughter died down. Stoakes smiled and her hand found its way to my shoulder. “Just a glimpse of the power we have at our disposal to help us achieve our goals. Now, amplify this example a thousand-fold to the large scale relentless attack we have planned,” she paused for dramatic effect, “and we will have our victory!” Thunderous cheers arose and I breathed a sigh of relief as she withdrew her hand back to the podium, averting the attention that had fallen on me.
She continued on with her speech, the audience never losing their cue. My attention drifted again as I longingly wondered what might be left to eat in the mess hall this late in the morning - I’d honestly be happy with plain toast at this point, I’m starved! I thought, before Stoakes’ calm voice drew me away from my thoughts not for the last time.
“Carver, I can only imagine you must be nervous,” she began in a kind, low voice. I looked around quickly only to find everyone had been dismissed. Stoakes and I were almost the only ones left in the room. “We’ve gone over this time and again, you must learn to have disciplined focus. You’re capable of incredible things. The time has come for you to claim your destiny.” She paused as if to allow me to respond, but I had nothing to say. Stoakes smiled with a sigh and motioned with her hand for us to leave.
“Why don’t we go grab you a bite to eat before heading out?” I shot up, smiling and nodding, out of my chair immediately following her out of the room, happy to avoid the conversation she had been heading in.
–
The next few hours passed as if in a blur. I, along with three others who would travel with me, was outfitted with an Equalist security disguise to prevent detection from Loyalist forces as we traveled. Our first task would be to locate the White House, only a few mile’s trek and short drive from where the base’s elevator let out on the surface. We would then act as security reinforcement, ensuring Citizens remained a safe distance away from the stage that was set up in the middle of a large courtyard directly across from the White House. I would be in close enough range to do the deed, and then we would quickly disperse. It almost sounds easy when I lay it out like that, I thought in an attempt to mask my anxiety as I and the three other Freedom Fighters entered the elevator.
I wasn’t sure what to expect when we arrived at the surface. I had never traveled very far on the surface before. When Stoakes helped me escape from CCIC, we had done so via interconnected underground tunnels. What I hadn’t expected to see when the elevator doors opened atop a hill overlooking a good stretch of land were the massive concrete walls topped with barbed wire, crisscrossing deep into the horizon. The only exception to this landscape was the city where we were headed, the walls were much taller there, the buildings rose high into the sky.
My mouth gaped, They’re are all Camps? I had only ever seen those walls from the insides, I could never have imagined they stretched on so far. My face fell, “No one’s free?” The words escaped me before I could stop myself. I hated looking dumb by asking questions.
Two of my companions had already begun their trek downhill, a car would be waiting for us not too far from there, but the third companion had hesitated, waiting for me. When we made eye contact, hers held an almost tangible sadness.
“Executive Citizens are given Premium Upgrades™ but for the most part, it’s like this everywhere,” she said. “Welcome to the United Corporation of America.”
We spoke little after that. When the massive white skyscraper I had noticed from atop the hill was only a few blocks in the distance, we parked the car in a well-hidden alley and walked the rest of the way. It wasn’t until we were in place, holding back crowds of Citizens as they fought for the best positions to see the stage, that I spoke again.
The tyrant retained few traditions from the past but one he humored was called The Campaign. Every four years he gave an inaugural speech regarding his plans for the next four years of his 'Presidency’. Large cameras broadcast the event across the nation, but I never had reason to pay attention before now.
A booming voice spoke in what seemed to be an overly pleasant tone over the speakers, “Citizens, thank you for joining us on this momentous day! Before we welcome our President, let us proclaim the Pledge of Allegiance together!”
My eyes shot over to the Freedom Fighter that answered my question on the hill. She shrugged in response. We both took up the chorus as everyone recited the Pledge.
“I pledge allegiance to the nation
of the United Corporation of America,
and to the man for which it stands,
one nation under Trump,
indomitable, with equality and separation for all.
AMERICA IS GREAT AGAIN!”
As the last words rang out across the courtyard the cheery announcer returned, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Citizens and Executive Citizens, please rise to welcome, PRESIDENT TRUMP!”
I was taken aback when the stout man exited a large SUV and began making his way along a red-carpeted route to the stage, surrounded by guards. My eyes shifted to my companion once more.
“He’s not white,” I hissed in surprise. “Orange, maybe tan if we’re being kind.”
The Freedom Fighter held back a smirk and frowned instead, motioning with her head and communicating with her eyes that I should begin.
My eyes widened in response, worried that I’d already messed up, but I quickly eased my mind as Stoakes had taught me and focused all of my attention on the target.
Everything became muffled and I could faintly hear my heartbeat in my ears, soft and strong. The tyrant next worked his way through a crowd of Executive Citizens, shaking hands and greeting them personally. A perfect opportunity to begin. As his lips moved, I established a narrative in my mind, a sort of bad lip reading that under my directed focus would form a sync, causing the target to mirror the scrambled speech in my mind without their knowledge.
As the tyrant climbed the steps to the stage, a government official stepped forward to shake his hand.
“There’s Tommy,” said Trump jovially, the sensitive microphone on the podium already capturing his voice and broadcasting it. I would only later come to find the fellow’s name was actually Edward. “Diggin’ the formal shoes, buddy,” he continued, “I like those.” The crowd, who had all been smiling and cheering, began to falter.
As the resistance had hoped, the despot was too fearsome to correct. The man he had called Tommy nodded awkwardly and uttered a quick, “Uh, th-thanks.”
“I like it in Vermont, it’s cool,” Trump said, waving and smiling as the cameras captured the moment. Tommy/Edward chuckled nervously, unsure of what to do. “Doesn’t he look like he should teach at a university?” The tyrant smirked and waved the man off good-naturedly, taking his place before the podium. No one cheered now, many in the audience gave each other curious glances and concerned murmurs could be heard.
“Good afternoon, Citizens,” Trump’s voice amplified over the courtyard. “I’m kind of cramping up, so try to avoid the lasagna,” he began, his face grave. Someone in the audience broke and a laugh erupted, causing others to join in.
One brave advisor must’ve realized what all the others should have noticed immediately. The longer they allowed their President to make a fool of himself, the worse it would be for them later. The brave advisor stepped forward, interrupting the tyrant in an unprecedented manner, covering the microphone and speaking directly in his ear.
I felt a gentle squeeze on my left elbow and my concentration broke. I made eye contact with the Freedom Fighter and she nodded, indicating it was time to disperse. I watched the tyrant be escorted off the stage toward the White House as I worked my way through the throngs of confused people to rendezvous with the others back at the hidden alley where the car would be waiting.
I was the last to arrive and by the looks of the other three when I did, they had already celebrated our win. I was received with congratulations and smiles, but it felt stiff. I was relieved when we decided to head out and the Freedom Fighter I’d been speaking to sat with me in the back.
“We should celebrate,” the driver said, smirking into the rearview mirror and turning the radio on. As he flipped through the static to find a suitable music station, he paused at what sounded like a Nightly News® broadcast.
“Breaking news tonight on multiple fronts, Citizens. A terrorist plot stopped at the White House, and we have confirmation that the President has suffered a stroke. We’re going live to-”
I slid forward, gripping the seat before me, “What! That’s NOT what happened!”
The driver switched off the radio and the companion beside me placed a gentle hand on my leg, “We know, Carver, it’s ok.” I slid back in the seat and she pulled her hand back, satisfied once I’d calmed down.
“They had to make up something,” piped up the third rebel in the passenger seat. “Make it seem like they know what’s going on and have the situation under control.”
“Exactly,” barked the driver with a laugh. “Bet you they’re shitting their pants right now.”
A calm voice spoke up next to me, “The first phase of the Silent Coup has started,” she said smiling. “The remaining dominos will inevitably topple and we will silence him for good.”
All of their voices were happy, calm, and unworried. They felt none of the pressure I did. Guess it wasn’t the rocks after all. What they said weren’t lies, a crack in the foundation had been broadcast to the entire nation, something that had never happened before and it gave us an incredible opportunity. Stoakes’ plan was coming to fruition exactly as she’d said it would.
“Be proud,” came my companion’s voice beside me once more. “Our victory today was all thanks to you.”
I allowed myself to smile as I watched the world blur outside the window.