The spirit of conflict was in the air. The pettiness of supposed wrongs took center stage for the proffered excuse of longstanding hurt. Dumb buffalos ranged the darkened landscape with broken bleeding horns bellowing impotently in search of victims upon which to exercise their blind wrath. A certain sense of stillness heralded the coming storm on what was to prove a negatively productive bright sunny day. Small abrasive encounters were spoiling for the dignity of apparently impossible to ignore incidents. These incidents grew from newly inflamed contentions into physical combat, initially by larger groups massing upon solitary vulnerable individuals. Law enforcement was brought into these flashpoints and after a minimal amount of struggle to what appeared to be a general level of mass rebellion, retreated to form lines cordoning off the violence troubled zones in hasty demarcations. The population within abandoned to the vagaries of old scores to settle and the advance of easy opportunities. Easy justification by virtue of justice substituted from lawful to legal sent crowds spilling through the sally ports of larger businesses, the goods emptied within a span of minutes.
Batteries of lights flickered on at remote locations as insurance actuaries text’ed in requesting the latest tally of stores currently breached. Surveillance cameras relayed the chaos within each location until in many cases one by one their dedicated intranet feeds went black. Perhaps someone higher up had calculated the cost of what had become another cynical exercise in some tried and true Machiavellian technique at political nullification of the unwashed masses? One could easily sense both fear and mistrust as the foundation of public awareness. Whatever the outcome of this incident, it was surely to retard the cooperation of black, white, yellow and brown for decades to come. But then, that was what was intended all along. The bullheaded could be counted upon to upset the applecart. All the years of beauty and goodwill that wafted through the air like perfume from a flower, extinct, as if it had never been. What was it that made the offspring so suggestible to the trend of publicized thought? The circulated paper mentioned, “In God We Trust!” but what God of the month club did they belong to? The gods that one knew were long dead. Killed by the almighty buck and the willingness to do anything to collect its paper. The convenience of a fantasy world dial-able at any given instant was just too attractive. An overwhelming blanket of blue bottle flies had mysteriously descended down upon the land without much notice as to what ill wind or similar phenomena had introduced them. A sign of evil, evidentiary of eons of decay, come finally to fruition. The plagues of Egypt brought to you by those original creators of the larger more expansive myth.