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Micro-fiction 047 – Peak Democracy (Post-Apocalypse series)

In this election, the winner takes it all. The prisoner, brother of the New President, receives an unexpected visit.


Peak Democracy

In the simple cell, the prisoner, lying on the unfamiliar, narrow bed listened to the TV news watched by the guard outside. The voice of the new President, was relayed from a recent campaign broadcast from the victory rally, with much talk of dynasty and providence by breathless commentators. The prisoner listened to the words of the President, his brother, and yet also the man responsible for his recent incarceration.

“You might not like me, or the things I say. But you know it’s what I feel. I’m not hiding anything. Why should I? Why would I?”

Through the grill the prisoner heard the Guard grunt approvingly.

“Of course, you might love what I say! I sure do, and I know so many who do, people who come up to me in the streets and tell me they love me. Unbelievable huh? I still can’t believe it myself.”

“Yep.” The Guard joined in with the roaring, adoring crowd.

“But the experts, the press? They just don’t get it. They use the language of the elite, the long sentences, the paragraphs of words, a blizzard of words, everyone contradicting everyone else, one man’s opinion is as good as the next, there’s no certainty, with scientists waiting on the next piece of evidence, going back and forth, and to and fro. You know what?” He raised his voice and leaned forward, “It’s all designed to confuse us. They pedal in the lies and fake truths of the weak, the scared, of the poor, the needy, of those who want what we have, what we fought for.”

The Guard shifted in his chair, thumping at the wall in time with the chanting crowd.

“But it’s ours to keep. And if you elect me, you elect a strong, likeable man who wants the best for his family; and what’s best for family, is best for the country. We all know that right?” The new president paused, waiting for the chants and the clapping to subside a little before emphasising the next words. “I love the flag. I do. It’s on my lawns – all of ‘em – it’s on your lawns, it’s on all the great public buildings that celebrate our noble past, the history that made us what we are today, a nation proud and strong. And you know what? The flag? It’s protected by our police, our military, our private militia, by the guns we all own.” The crowd went wild again, but he continued, shouting now over the volume of his audience, surfing its tide, perfectly attuned to the roll and twist of the waves, riding at the head of his victory.

“You may not like me, but I tell it like it is, I don’t lie! I don’t! I tell you what you know to be true, I tell you what you see every single day: aliens coming in, criminals sneaking through, sniffing at our jobs, our money and our daughters, their very presence an offence to our neighbourhoods. These other politicians, these slimy dogs, you know, they wouldn’t know your truth if it smashed them in they face. And I’d love to do that right? Smash it into their faces, these lying, cheating sons of the Capital, corrupt politicians milking us of our cash and our freedom, telling us what to do with our lives, interfering with our land, our guns, our minds. This is supposed to be a democracy. Leave us be, let us do what we want to do.” The guard outside the prisoner’s cell slapped the wall, joining the thunderous applause on the TV that echoed throughout the cells and the shook the building.

A final flourish followed. “You might not like me, but I’ll make them all go away, I’ll leave you be. And because your values are mine you can trust me, because I tell it like it is. And this time, the winner takes it all.”

The guard slapped the TV off and laughed loud as he strode along the line of cells, running his pistol across the grills of each, clattering its contempt for the occupants. The radio on his uniform interrupted the glee, rasping into life with a short message.

“Oh, you guys are in for a treat!” He shouted into the air, then back at the radio, “yep, all ready.” Silence gripped the corridor, and the guard left.

A few moments passed and a distant door slid open.

The lock on the prisoner’s cell clicked, and a visitor strode in.

“Brotheeeerrrr!” The gigantic voice of the new President bounced across the walls of the tiny cell.

“I thought you’d come.” The prisoner shook his head.

“Of course, one of my first visits since the victory. May I?” He mockingly asked to sit at the end of the prisoner’s bed.

“So, you did it.” The prisoner sat on the pillow with his legs held to his chest.

“Oh, I said I would, and here I am.”

“Did you really think you could pull it off?”

“Well, between you and me, I didn’t think they’d be stupid enough to vote me in!” He put his hand on his mouth, laughing, “Oh, we’re not being bugged are we?”

“Sure, but you’re the boss now.”

“Well, ain’t that the truth.” The new P{resident grinned. “You know son, they got what they voted for.” He leaned in, “I can do what I like, all my speeches were the same, I made it perfectly clear what would happen, how I felt, what I’d do.”

“You did.” The prisoner looked back hollow-eyed at the triumphant visitor.

“Yep, nothing can stop me now. Voted in by the majority to do what I want to do, a true reflection of electorate. And a man of my word.”

“So?”

“So, there’ll be no more pandering to the people who lost, no more special treatment for the little guy, for the minorities, ‘devil take the hindmost’ as our dear old dad would say, right to the very end, when I pushed him down those stairs.”

“Ah, it was you. Even then. So what’s next? ”

“Well, I really can do what I like! That’s what I said I’d do. I’m gonna ban all books (they’re too damned long anyway), close all independent TV and radio networks, then I’m cancelling elections, I’ve already appointed my own staff to all senior jobs and shut down the other Offices of State. Hah, I’ll rule by decree from now on, because I do know what’s best” he wagged his finger.

“For a democratically elected politician, that’s hardly democratic.” The prisoner closed his eyes.

“Nonsense. It’s the absolute consequence of our system, majority rule, winning fair and square. Democracy’s not dead, it’s just reached its peak.” He whispered. “I am democracy now.”

[ends]

Part of a new series of micro-fiction stories, released as These Fantastic Worlds SF & Fantasy Fiction Podcast on iTunes, Apple Podcasts, Google Play, Spotify, and Stitcher  and more. Also on this blog, These Fantastic Worlds.

Text, image, audio © 2020 Jake Jackson, thesefantasticworlds.com. Thanks to Frances Bodiam and Elise Wells,  Logic ProX, Sound Studio, the Twisted Wave Recorder App, Apogee Condenser microphone, and Alfons Schmidt’s fantastic Notebook app.


More Tales

There are many other great stories in this series, including:

Some background on the science behind Hunter and Bain’s adventures: Concepts of Time

And a carousel of 10 audio stories from the podcast with information about submissions.

Here’s a related post, 5 Steps to the SF and Fantasy Podcasts.