Rise

Chapter Twenty: Feeding the Flames

The grey streets were desolate under the midday sun, everyone working inside the tall offices and factories. The silence unnerved Clarence. It was not how he had imagined his golden city, it was not what he had planned for his new era. There should be people milling about, there should be sounds, chatter, laughter, everything like that. Where are the families? Where are the happy citizens, safe from the dangers beyond our great walls?

“--in the factories. The production rate is booming even with dropping worker satisfaction,” Mr. Dennis Brown droned on, describing the past months events. He was the man Clarence had appointed to lead the second industrial revolution. He was tactful and a shrewd negotiator. He could talk to you for five minutes, and you’d owe him your life. Clarence was glad to have him in his service, but only trusted him as far as he could throw him. Brown was kept on a tight leash, one of John York’s many responsibilities. 

“That’s not good enough Dennis. I want happy citizens, not people who go home hating the institution they serve. Keep production high and raise our worker’s satisfaction. You can start by removing the overseers. That was a dangerous ploy, and I feel it has caused more harm than good,”

“Preposterous! They work harder with an ever watchful eye bearing down on them. And those who cannot work harder are weeded out, and removed. Replaced by someone more willing. It is a solid system,”

When did I agree to this? How was I so blinded by power? Now that I am on my throne, why are things no different than they were? 

“We need to think of the people. When we are dead and gone, this city must survive. If the people who we serve hate us, it will crumble back into the earth from whence it came. A reform is in order,”

Dennis squinted, “Who is this man who stands before me? He is not the Clarence I knew a decade ago. This man has grown a heart, and has forgotten what it means to lead. We do not serve. We are served,”

“That may have worked when we had to carve this empire out of the dust, but here we are on top, and what is there to show for it? Look around! The streets are abandoned --”

“Because everyone has been put to work! Everyone works to earn their living, to earn their right to live in this glorious city. This was the plan, this was the vision. No more rich or poor, no more weak; a nation of the strong and the willing,”

“Strong and the willing. Your report leads me to believe otherwise,”

“This is the path of progress, you said it yourself Clarence. Where is the man who had not a care for the people he stepped on, for the lives he crushed. We wanted power my old friend, and we got it. What else is left but basking in the sunlight?”

Dennis was right, it was what he wanted. He always hated being in the shadow of those above him. The bunker wasn’t a very friendly place, especially for a child. Order and discipline was the means of survival, or so they were told. Everyone had a place, a duty, and if they couldn’t perform, punishment followed. 

Clarence grew to loathe the Supervisors and their metal batons. Those silver dealers of bruises and welts. Order and discipline. More like fear and submission. 

“The path of progress has been littered with enough blood, and it has yet to be completed. More skulls will be crushed, though no more shall belong to my people,” Clarence fell silent for a time, his brow furrowed in thought. Dennis had enough sense to keep his mouth shut for the duration. 

“I am a good man, I am honourable. It’s high time I made sure those who work in my name emulate that. You will remove the overseers, and there will be a worker’s union instated. I want everything prepared by the week’s end, and the official report on my desk  the following morning. John, would you kindly escort Mr. Brown to his office? I’ll be able to find my own way home,” 

The tower of a man bowed his head deeply as he moved from where he had been trailing the duo, his medals glinting in the sunlight. Clarence liked keeping him around when he left his office. He trusted him more than any of the faceless guards or soldiers, and enjoyed his counsel. It wasn’t seldom he considered removing his board of advisors. He hears and sees far more than he lets on. The man is a thinker, even though his appearance would make you believe otherwise. I’d hate to be his opponent, even in a game of -- 

A sharp crack shattered Clarence’s thoughts and a warm spray instantly spattered his face. Blood dripped into his mouth and for a moment he thought it was his. That was before he saw Dennis collapse, a third of his head missing, brains oozing from his shattered skull. A moment later he felt a strong grasp take hold of his shoulders, yanking him aside as another crack ripped though the air. 

York pulled Clarence into an alley between buildings, shadows enveloping them instantly. Pinning West against the wall with one tree trunk of an arm and pulling his sidearm from its holster with the other, York aimed up across the street, squinting his eyes as he did so. 

Clarence craned his neck, trying to spot what York was staring at. He watched as York fired a few rounds at a  blurry silhouette as it slipped from view, a rifle clearly in its hands. Rage rumbled within the man as he stood there, the betrayal setting in. When he deemed it all clear, York released Clarence, letting him off the wall.

“This is how they repay me? This is what they wish for after all I have done? Those bullets were meant for me, but I’m sure Brown’s death won’t go uncelebrated. They will learn the meaning of respect even if they can no longer distinguish it from fear,” Clarence fumed, his fists balled. 

“They would be wise to do so, sir,” York said. It struck Clarence as a little odd, for York never spoke unless addressed. Something was putting him on edge. 

“Yes, well, let us return to my office. There appears to be business that requires attending. I want a squad of B-Troopers assembled as soon as we return. They will be briefed by the day’s end,”

“As you command,” York replied, bowing his head as he did so. 

The duo did not risk taking the streets back to the Iron Hill (Clarence’s version of the White House) making use of the old tunnels beneath the buildings. They had been originally used during construction but were long abandoned, now only  home to beggars and mice. 

Clarence’s brain went to work straight away as they walked, already devising a plan to bring his would-be assassin to justice. Public execution came to mind more than once. Then they can all see what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you.