Uprising (Part 1): The Working Man

Here is the first monologue to this story, there will be a number of these overall with a final conclusion to the first part. There may be some delay in between all, but I will attempt to get them up on time.

The events happening in the first part of this story take place twelve months after the speech was made…

6:30am

The alarm goes off

‘Good Morning All, this is your leader speaking, it is the start of a brand new day, and with every day comes one day you’ll never see again, so make the most of it, live life to the fullest and have a wonderful-

BAM!

It breaks with a swing of my hammer. It had to happen eventually. There was only so much more of his shit I could take every morning.

I get out of my bed, the damaged alarm clock lying in pieces on the floor.

I open the curtains.

A grey, clouded day. Like every other day here. Although I felt a period of heavy rain coming on, something this town hasn’t seen in a while.

A raven sitting on the branch outside my house turns and looks at me for a while, before flying away into the distance.

The town looked bleak. The dark buildings stood  like statues. Black trails of steam coming out from the top, adding further darkness to the already grey sky. I hear the faint sound of car horns being beeped. Every day, I see this colourless town, I wonder if this will ever change.

I go and have a shower, bathrooms are the one place in which none of their so called ‘technology revelations’, and even this was 'under review' by the government.

Three years on since his rousing speech, the nation of Great Britain had become anything but great. There was virtually nowhere that weren’t dominated by cameras of all shapes and sizes everywhere. Every house had to have at least five, and if you didn’t have this amount, you would get a visit from Syron’s 'little friends', who would enter and put a camera up without hesitation, whatever the circumstances. Many protestors to this had ended up injured.

I come out of the shower, and go into my room.I look into my wardrobe and see the queue of blue shirts, with black trousers hanging underneath.  I put on one of each and take my black dusty shoes from the wardrobe floor, I then take my jacket from the hanger on my door. Branded or labelled clothes of any sort are no longer allowed as Syron wanted us to ‘sell ourselves as the world’s main brand' so everyone walks around in plain colours .

I head downstairs and put my coat on and remember my keys, which have a tiny sensor inside of it so it can recognise which house someone’s going into, it works to prevent burglary but can also be used to work out who’s going into their house during ‘work hours’ and are promptly paid a visit and ousted.

As I pass the installed camera on the way to the door, the temptation to say what I’m thinking is unbearable.

Locking the door behind me, I reach my car and step inside, I put my keys in the ignition hastily, the car started. All cars had been fitted with the customary camera and all run on an automatic, electric system, Syron had always made being green one of his prime concerns when running for his campaign and his first step was to eliminate all non electric cars, it seemed a good idea to us all at first, as climate change was looking like more of a threat than ever, with the previous winter never exceeding below 9 degrees centigrade and the summer exceeding thirty two degrees, we were currently in the spring which has remained stable around sixteen degrees centigrade.

But what seemed a good idea was thrown by Syron’s incompetence, electric cars were underdeveloped and could not travel long distances before breaking down and were untested and sometimes dangerous. Syron claimed that further developments would be ‘imminent once current plans have been tended to’, these ‘plans’ have been forbidden to all but those very close to Syron’s command. But it resulted in packed motorways and many accidents, where of course blame was shifted to the drivers and never once on the cars.

I was very lucky I lived just thirty minutes away from where I worked, the car could just about handle that amount of driving, but for all else, public transport had to do, and it had become increasingly packed and subjected to severe delays.

It had been just five minutes when I'd got to the end of the residential road when I see a breakdown ahead, and the driver was standing outside of the car. I see them everyday so I'm used to them, but this was different. It was Ahmar Kareem, a friend of mine who had been a noted opposer of the government from the day they started campaigning, he was clear in his views and didn’t hold back with them, and although certain severe punishment awaits anyone who opposes the government in this day and age, he still held his secret views, for he claimed, for all they owned, they could not steal his thoughts. A number of passers by are standing, watching, they seem helpless, as if they were scared to approach him. 

As he turns, I see his face. He looked livid, and all of a sudden, it all came out:

'I’m no puppet, I’m no pawn. Syron, you are SCUM! You outlaw what people say because you can’t see how incompetent a leader you are, a totalitarian government is outdated and always leads to trouble, and I hope all of you SHEEP (he points at all the passers by around him now) realise what you’ve done to this country. This is not Great Britain, this is greedy, grotesque & GHASTLY Britain and it’s your fault Syron. 'I’m sick of electric cars, I’m sick of breaking down and being late for work, I’m sick of cameras watching my every move, I’m sick of YOU, Syron, DAMN YOU! Damn you to HELL!’

His breakdown had attracted a number of passers by, and his rant had further attracted more. The looks reflected shock, but also fear. They knew what was coming.

Two full minutes pass in silence. Even Ahmar starts to look slightly concerned over what he just said.

And sure enough, two police cars roar down the road (these were the only cars that weren’t running on electricity) and out of them step two sargeants, they weren’t particularly massively built, but looked so intimidating that one glance would have you backing off. They approach Ahmar silently like wolves moving in for the kill. I’m not sure what’s going through Ahmar’s mind but his face becomes a sheet of regret and as they approach, slowly turns to desperation. And he lashes out, blindly throwing his fist at the officers and screaming, but all his might was wasted. The sergeant easily grabbed his fist before twisting it behind his back,  and dragging him to the car bonnet to throw him down. As he screams out in agony, they handcuff him, thrust him up and hurdle him into the back seat of the car. Throughout it all, their expressions did not change and though they had picked up many shocked bystanders in their brawl, they calmly stepped into the car, as if they’d just dropped off a parcel at someone’s house.

The car drives away. Silence follows. Then the pedestrians carry on as normal, going day to day

I think to myself: Where is he going? What are they going to do to him? There have been many rumours that have spread about the punishments received, none of them pleasant, some say a simple night in an enclosed jail cell, but some have said much worse, the judicial system has naturally gotten far more firm. – the government have recently announced that they were ‘considering’ instating the electric chair as capital punishment. It has not been officially confirmed, but the vicious rumours have spread with more coming out every day.

I'm sad. Not just for Ahmar, but this country. Every word Ahmar has said is right, this leader has truly led us to despair. And his desires are some that I share. Its time something was done about this, but what and who can stop this menace on our country? How can we express this other than in our private thoughts, which is the only place he can’t access. God, how I'd like to attack him, make him feel the suffering that we had, just to hit him where it hurts. To get all the suffering and pain out of him before I dispose of him. Its my one desire. But I am but one person and these are but wishful thoughts.

And as I drive on, and enter the busy main road and notice another traffic jam ahead which is most likely another breakdown, I look at my watch and realise that I'm going to be late for work. And the wishful thoughts intensify...