I re-write this to not just mark it a point but to one day hit the mark right on the spot.
This is not the day of the title, this is a day in someone's real life on a plane not everyone walks or sees.
This bit of a story takes place in spot of a corner between here and there...It was August in the mountain town, the sun was setting and the dry air was a perfect 78 degrees Fahrenheit. When the wind blew you could smell the smoke of burning timbers or brush somewhere, it could have been coming from arson fires of Canadian churches or homeless camps in town, of which there were many and more growing of both.
The dark red truck with out of state license plates slowed down and pulled up just behind the man tending his front yard garden, parking in front of the driveway. It was a modest home in the middle of town, or was a it a city, now? Not even September and almost 30 homicides already. In 15 years so much had changed, up north of the town where nothing was before now home plots sold for almost a million with hardly a spot of land to keep and neighbors to watch your every keep. It was also where carjackings would happen but news of such events would only make it into one of the 6 or 7 government operated information sites, because in truth they knew no one had time to scour them all, or would even assume they weren't getting all their information they needed to know from a correct source, if they cared at all or could even have the ability to recall that something had happened, the memories had gotten so short. After the pandemic it was obvious there were large swaths of people that had no inclination to question what they were told. There had been a murder of a woman in her home a few weeks earlier and not a peep had been heard since about the who. A shoot out on a random corner was often heard of and in some stores almost everything was locked behind glass and if it wasn't someone that knew they wouldn't get in trouble came in a took what they wanted and woe was anyone to stop them. Whole sections of cities had been taken over by roving gangs. The City, State, and Federal bureaucracies and those with titles near their names had passed laws to keep things secret and any one questioning their abilities to do their j.o.b., ethics of any nature, or reasoning was subject to the scrutiny of the all seeing watchful eye and some more woe for those those that associate with 'enemies of the state', of which was anyone that disagreed with 'them'. The weather was great, the crime was out of control.
The middle aged man stood on a step stool pruning the fruit, turned his head as a large man gets out of the drivers side and approach the fruit trees and comments how impressive they are and how much water they must take, a few I'm from up the road, no, it's not my truck, it's my brothers and then another man gets out of the passenger side all smiles and nice creases and fake how do ya dos. Here a size up was, with a guise of a lie.
It was an odd time for sure when peoples bank accounts had been frozen for not supporting the 'State' thing from bionetic implants, unwanted substances injected, or attitudes of a moment that moved like the cycle of a storm, never satisfied until the moment of violent release.
The man with the fruit trees a few weeks earlier had hired a needed helping hand, it just so happened that this helping hand was a watched man who had done time for trespassing against the Federal wants and desires and the State of officials had radars of associates well in hand.
The man with the fruit trees wondered was it the water usage for the visit?...or the raising of the good old Red, White, and Blue?
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
They could install her if they wanted.
They can do what ever they want.
Stop thinking they can't.
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