Walking Dollar Bills

Chapter 48 (1/2): Homebound

Today marks the seventh and final day of Mao Country's Liberation Celebration. The week celebrates the fall of a ruthless dictator, and includes various fireworks displays, free banquets, and dances. Citizens from all six rings, and elders once pushed to the outskirts of the country, congregate to the fourth ring. The former shopping hub has become a space where people spend time together rather than money. A restlessness mixes with the air.

The Liberation Celebration culminates in the Liberation Parade where citizens say their final farewells to the mythic gods, who have defeated the previous Dictator. The people honor the gods with a parade. A procession of camels stroll through the streets flanked by a sea of citizens who cheer and wave. Children ride the camels with tiny fists holding the strings to dozens of balloons representing every color imaginable. Thousands of balloons float in the air.

Adults and older teens guide the camels as they smile and wave at the crowd. Loud music blares out of speakers transported from the homes of government workers and merchants. For this week, the idea of private property fades. Any item that may augment to the merriment of the moment is transferred to the community. Blood does not limit the concept of family. Everyone in the street is a brother, sister, aunt, or uncle. This mentality persists all week.

The citizens of Mao country hardly recognize themselves. Raising their voices to sing brings them a momentary shock. They are surprised that their voices can rise so high. Banished thoughts return to their minds, and with those thoughts are words people have expunged from their vocabulary. They seem to speak a new language.

Murals, statues, and other remnants of the previous Dictator exist only in memory. This entire week, people have covered his image with paint, toppled over his statues reducing them to dust, and cursed his name publicly, vociferously, and unapologetically. The paranoia that once stalked these people has scurried away; now peace walks into their lives.

Amara watches the parade from the third story balcony of a jewelry store. The burning desert sun spoils her face with its light. She finds the heat more tender than oppressive. Dark-brown hair stops at the top of her shoulders. She smiles with a face free of dirt and blood.

Upon returning from the first ring, gracious merchants showered her and her friends with hundreds of expensive and elegant gifts. The light blue flared tank dress she wears was one of those gifts. While she happily accepted the clothes, she insisted that the jewelry was unnecessary.

Giggling at the enthusiasm of kids holding brown baskets and tossing flower petals into the crowd, she ruminates on her decision to reject the jewelry. All of the merchants' wealth would still be unable to cover the cost of their debt. The dazzle of rubies and sapphires could never liven the gloominess of a prison.

An abrupt roar from the crowd startles her before she smiles. Her blue-eyes spot Zala riding the back of a camel with Earl walking beside her and waving at the crowd. His awkwardness warms her heart. They're not used to receiving such overwhelming love.

Amara admires the health and happiness of her friends. Zala's silver hair is fixed into a bun, and a bright red dress drowns her thin frame. Earl wears a black salwar kameez suit with a hole cut out in the back for his tail that slides across the sand behind him.

"You and me had the same idea, huh?" asks Gumbo stepping onto the balcony.

Her friend brushes dust off of his black suit, and adjusts his red tie tucked into the suit jacket. He leans against the balcony with his back facing the parade. His attention is on Amara.

"It doesn't sit well with me," continues Gumbo, "I understand that the people are grateful, but calling us gods and pretty much worshiping us is too much."