Eavesdropping

La Generación del Atardecer Presenta: Eavesdropping; la ciudad de Aragón relincha en la fiebre esquizo-política cotidiana mientras un peligro se acerca a sus costas.

-The Signal is coming-

“Ana, arise from your slumber! Something’s going down at the docks,” barks an odd accent somewhere in the room. She stirs awake in a mattress on the floor amidst white sheets and a blue egg-shaped pillow. Staring at the ceiling, she takes a deep breath and mutters, “It’s here.”

“He asimilado considerables textos, buscando con mesura y audacia el método por el cual el sapiente se asemeje a la imagen que él era en Dios, en la que no había diferencia alguna entre él y Dios, antes de que Dios creara las criaturas. En esta época, solo uno supervive la guerra de todos contra todos; El indudable y impar Dios.”

- Libro de la Perdición

Toshiko Akiyoshi Piano Trio, The Third Movement

“Straight, no chaser”

I said, the bartender nods and works his craft. It began as it tends to begin, big old moon shinning down on us mortals, a column of neatly stacked shot glasses and a consultation with an informer. Sitting by myself in a tavern just outside Montgomery’s drove, music spilling from every orifice in the structure, accompanied by the brusque atmosphere of people’s conversations all about, and the occasional high pitch laughter here and there. Though mostly dark and sober, an array of small multicolor lights illuminate the joint. The notes from the piano divide space and time; the bass molds creation plus everyone in it and the drums react giving us fragments of mended tempo that allow the room and its human resources to rehabilitate. “Here you go Ms. O” says the bartender. I raise my glass reluctantly and voice “c’est la vie” And down goes the sweet-n-sour rum. “You know Ana, I don’t make a habit of giving off advice when not sought,” says Ramon “but you should diversify your drinking toasts.” “Well, it’s the only one I know” I reply with a grin. He smiles and walks away to tend the bar clientele. This strike was the last thing I needed, I have plenty to worry about as it is, and they dump these fucking internal security assignments on me. Fifth week of the White Scott standoff. The rioting workers refused to allow the new batch of personnel to come in. When we arrived everything went to hell, the insurrectionist elements began to uproar, throwing bottles, and burning more tires. The smell of smoldering rubber stays on you, like a reminder of where you were: I had to take two showers. Then they took the roofs of most buildings within their perimeter and threw chunks of concrete, wood and glass. I don’t blame them. We were called there for a reason: to safeguard the perimeter from them, under the oath to the Law [and they know the Law is not on their side]. I offered a clean slate, “discontinue this conduct, throw down your weapons and leave the factory premises!”, yet being who they are, they wouldn’t disperse willingly.

“Then the workers had clashes with several hundred armed police forces. I saw many people seriously injured, these were our countrymen!”

- Delta Swahili, Participant of the White Scott demonstrations, C10H5ClN2 Tales

So I gave the call to storm their positions, my troops created walls of shields; meanwhile tear gas grenades flew towards their barricades, and two automated tanks broke their rear blockade of burning cars, pieces of wood and scrap metal. I did my day’s pay as a diffuser of social conflict, releasing the pressure of this savory melting pot. The daily toll was 2 dead workers, 3 injured guards and an out of commission tank. This strategy is backfiring, and these people are starting to get angrier. Just yesterday 5 more law enforcement officers were injured on domestic situations. Crowds are beginning to steal space and are setting the agenda for disputes. Yet, there are still people with a real sense of duty. Crack ‘em to the bone, “Hit me up again!” I said. Ramon serves the drink and makes the alchemical omens; I swallow and slam the glass on the counter.

“Another!”

“Ah, fast tracking the toast ceremony are we now?” says Ramon as he refills promptly, “I’ll leave the bottle here” pointing at the container of spirits and ghouls which is now self service. Just then a man enters the joint, mid fifties, slightly bold with dark hair and black shades. He wears a coffee two-piece single-breasted suit. It’s Hugo, my top notch informant. In this age we are all divinely linked to the servers of the powers that be, to the global networks, the divine noosphere, as they say. We all listen, pick up what pieces of trash we can bear, anywhere from the gossip central, rumor city, ideology ville, to the recycle bin, and we all get around. But this fella can contemplate the binary structure of each plot. Wherever he goes, he listens intently, nevertheless, he talks rather discreetly. Making his way in, the don spots me in the crescendo of faces and forms amid the stools by the bar. And he sort of glides his tall figure over here, until he seats next to me. Hugo orders a cup of pine tea, he takes out a newspaper from his briefcase and lights a cigarette. “There’s an awful lot of ruckus in Aragon city these days officer O,” says Hugo while staring at the paper. “The city is always screaming its guts out commodore,” I reply, “wouldn’t be a city if it was any other way”. “Certainly, certainly” Hugo says as he passes a page of the paper “but even in this seeming chaos, there is a spectrum of noise.” “What is this ruckus associated to?” I ask pouring myself another round. “Not sure yet, but there are clues here and there. A few weeks ago, an energy plant was decimated at Quitosberg, only a huge crater remains.” He takes a sip from his tea and continues, “it’s been buried as an accident, but still no one knows for sure if there was foul play involved.”

Signals as omens

“Tragedy at St. Braire, at least 7,417 people died after a massive explosion erupted at the Lotus Enterprise energy plant just off the coast of the Xiu Zheng, Quitosberg. The blast left behind a 200 feet long crater, which wiped out the installation itself along with a portion of the city. The accident is called ‘The worst industrial calamity in the city’s history’ by the Minister of energy. However, concrete data on the incident remains sketchy. Authorities are working hard to determine the cause of the explosion at St. Braire. Witnesses say that prior to the explosion a loud whining echoed across the coast”

“There was another set of phenomena” he went on. ”Which at first glance I deemed unrelated with the supposed accident, but a closer examination reveals a hidden trail. Now I’ve had to extract my extra ears for this one, they [whoever they are] did a pretty good job in keeping it unseen and unheard. But I felt the great wave fluctuations on the public conduits, for there are echoes moving in patterns across the universal link. No one can tell, except those with the right criteria for piercing the invisible. Phantom symptom on the sonar, a mere ricochet, but the signal gets stronger every day. To my surprise, this encrypted pattern had been perceived before…” “Just prior to the St. Braire accident? I take it?” I queried. “That’s correct, there’s speculation in lowly back alleys of forums that something big is gonna go down; whatever happened at the industry complex is coming here, the signal approaches. And the same corporation that owned the assailed power plant owns the power plants of this very city.” “Lotus Enterprise… who you suppose would want to kick in the corporate giant?” I ask. “No idea, but the list is pretty long, they own half of the region.” Hugo sips his tea and continues “Energy, utilities, internet. Yet they’ve expanded their enterprise since the war, discreetly investing in weapons development for the government. The Lotus were among the first corporations to merge unto the Integrated Banking Government, back in the days it supplied needed capital to continue the war efforts that left so many with a new set of principles, its wealth spawned new nations, all aligned with BORU.”

“Events such as the proclaimed day of Justice have started to show we will no longer tolerate oppressive policing, and all the militancy. As the Jersey district demonstrations have shown, dissent needs an element of danger before it is threatening enough to change anything. After never ending years of scuffling around White Scott and Aragon, and not changing anything, people from everywhere have had enough.”