The Government Sucks
Kristoffer Lawson
18th Sep 2003


"Down with the Empire!"

That was the general tone of the roudy men and women participating in this
particular rebellion. It was as if starting a revolution was not even
enough. One had to make a lot of fuss about it as well. Luckily it wasn't
long until the revolution police arrived. Things were quickly getting out of
control and it was obvious the climax was approaching.

The uniformed police with their helmets and their shields and their boots
and their battons marched round the corner in file. They looked smart and
appropriately menacing. The revolutionaries began to throw bricks and stones
at them. Some had even gone as far as to prepare molotov cocktails.
Obviously the police were not happy.

All of this just raised the temperature further. The crowds were ecstatic.
More shouting commenced. Clubs were raised in response. There seemed to be a
very good chance of violence. The media people were pleased.

Out of the blue, armoured vehicles appeared with an impressive array of
water cannons on display. Naturally they became the target for the seemingly
endless suppy of hard, throwable objects used by the revolutionaries.
Unfortunately for them, the thick armours could handle missiles of a totally
different callibre -- this had been tested to everyone's satisfaction during
the great uprising of '51 -- it could handle a few pebbles without the blink
of an eye, and these cars had eyes all over the place.

Finally the situation exploded. Revolutionaries were receiving the full
treatment and getting clubbed and beaten quite thoroughly indeed. Tear gas
was spread. Water cannons were fired. Crowds were moving back slowly. Some
were bleeding from the blows and kicks applied by the police force. A few
were even lying on the ground quite still. In the ongoing chaos it was
impossible to tell what their condition was. As often happens, seeing their
comrades so badly hurt made the revolutionaries even angrier and so began a
brave new wave of violent onslaught. They moved back towards the police and
for a short while it looked like they might actually succeed in storming the
governmental buildings. If that were to happen, the army might have to be
called in, with far more drastic measures than what was generally available,
even to the anti-revolutionary police.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view -- police
reinforcements arrived. Several helicopters flew overhead and a large stream
of uniforms appeared from a few side streets. They were joined by even more
armoured vehicles, some of which carried groups of elite squads. Their
wepons were nastier than hard clubs. The revolutionaries were becoming
desperate and scattered. Almost all of them were pulling back with only
random rocks and pieces of glass being thrown through the air. Hundreds of
people were being coached to prison with their hands and legs tied. Some
ambulances had made it to the bodies and they were being rushed off to
hospitals. A few had to be given immediate treatment. Doctors in white coats
were running from one to another with frowning, worried, but stern, faces.

By now the area was clearning. The crowds had mostly dispersed or were being
pursued along smaller streets. The square in front of the governmental
complexes was full of rubble. Glass from smashed shop windows was
everywhere. A few silent flames twittered in memory of what had taken place.
Many armoured policemen still stood behind their masks, on guard while the
medics operated on what could still be saved. Journalists were positioning
themselves and their cameras for dramatic pictures. Serene. Quiet. Even
magestic.

It had only lasted a few hours.

Later in the day, a group of twelve ministers sat in a large room within a
building close to where everything had taken place. Each of them had a blue
mug by their hand, as well as a single thick, black pen and a neat stack of
paper. They sat in high-backed chairs around a long wooden table. There was
a carpet on the floor with an elaborate, multi-coloured pattern streaming
along it. It looked expensive. Each room on that floor was furnished in
exactly the same way. The setting sun was spying through the drawn curtains.
Apart from that, the room was bare.

Minister William Johnson had just commented on what a fine rebellion it had
been and how neatly they had dealt with it, even though it had looked
concerning for a brief period.

"637 captured, 50 injured and 6 deaths," he chanted. "Up by quite a
magnitude since last year. Not bad at all."

The others nodded approvingly. It had definitely been a good day all round.
The revolutionaries had been strong-minded and clearly willing to die for
their cause.

Minister Jane Summers coughed lightly. She picked up her notes. "I have a
the lineup of promotion candidates ready."

The other ministers looked at her expectantly. She started listing the
revolutionaries who would now help to form this term's government. 

  Mr Simon Baker
  Mr Carl Eddings
  Mrs Jill Strauss
  Mr Earl Hemingway
  Mrs Cathering Jones (deceased)
  Mr Robert Smith
     .
     .
     .