Taxing Time - Part II

The fundraising office looked on with mixtures of amusement, interest, and concern at their comrades.

“Look,” Adrian explained. “The main reason I sympathize with the separatist is because a revolution in Québec is more likely to succeed.”

“But what about the rest of us?” Joe countered. “Besides no revolution can exist in a vacuum. It has to sweep the whole country.”

“Quiet down guys.” Jaime muttered. “You are going to get on a list.”

“I probably already am.” Joe said. His bravado was superficial, as most usually is. Bravery exists as nothing more than a convincing performance.

“Did you ever talk about Occupy on facebook?” Jaime asked. Joe responded that he had. “Then, you are on a list.”

“Well f**k me.” Joe said. The group laughed as they continued to dance around degrees of paranoia and political science. Nothing seemed too absurd to be discussed after Snowden infiltrated and exposed the system. Sci fi was clearly much to inspirational.

Leif popped into the office. “Here are your maps my little forest creatures.” He said. The troll loved all allies of mother earth regardless of effectiveness. Adrian stood up to speak. He’d shaved off his beard but his eyes stayed wild.

“Alright guys grab your gear. Let’s rock the hell out of this day for Amnesty!” He wasn’t quite as exuberant as when he spun off insomnia and caffeine, but he still carried an artificial air of energy that no one believed.

Daron led the way out the door. Talking about atrocities for hours and hours everyday had given the young musician apocalyptic visions. He shrugged them off and grabbed his nametag, vest and binder.

     “Where are we headed today?” Joe asked. No one answered. They walked outside to where Adrian waited smoking a cigarette. The careful, metal, death machines paused as the group of young workers crossed the road. Joe held the door to the cement cage where their transportation lived.

     “What floor?” Jaime asked. Adrian called back that the van was on the second floor. Their Routan wasn’t actually on the second floor but it only took them a few moments to walk up another level. They loaded their gear, and took their seats. Inside, the van quieted. In silence Curst could almost feel her cells replacing each other faster and faster. She’d be entirely new, and different by morning, and she’d remain herself.