Opus Veda

They neither found Joey that night nor the following. Kasia shared the news and had 4999 contacts ignore it. Embarrassed, she deleted the message, and spent hours searching for who unfriended her.

Leah offered minimal words of support at breakfast. At lunch their slots differed, and Kasia ate alone. Ollie took this moment to accost her; he felt she ought to rewrite the letter to her MP. Her next attempt needed to feel sincere. She secretly cursed him and obeyed.

In the execution's wake President Adrian Søreni held a press statement, reaffirming his commitment to secure the Republic from the invader within. He defended his record with a rehearsed litany of achievements: inflation curbed at 200%, unemployment kept at an optimal level, investment from benefactors dripping in.

These latter elites chained the remnants of Great Britain together. Even China struggled to regulate them. They were too formless; a nameless group of untouchable, independent oligarchs. No accusation, no conspiracy, could wrap its fingers around an entity that wasn't an entity.

Søreni's speech handed gratitude up to these vague titans all the same. Behind him two flags billowed over Number 10: for the Republic of England & Wales, a blue lion and red dragon over white. For China's Xīn Hán Dynasty, a holofoil dragon over rich maroon.

He left the public with the same old consolations: current hardships were a necessary evil for future improvement; past hardships happened in the past, and it was time to move on. The public raged and unrest frothed. Some tried to incite riots. Most of it stayed online. Though largely harmless, the police were made to deploy.

Gemma and Luis brooded in a pub, watching ice melt in their tumblers. The Superintendent had called them off the Kendi Estate case to sit on the border at Southwark, ready to defend it from unsavoury types spilling over from poorer Brixton. A group of punters nearby began joking about the hell headed for their neighbouring borough. Luis slammed his tumbler down and marched outside to make a call.

Imany defended her choice to call the police against irate locals. She lost when Sermon arrived with worse news: an insider had tipped him off. Thanks to the growing unrest, Joey's case was on indefinite hold.

Powerlessness gripped Kendi Estate. A few locals followed Sermon along the riverbank for a search. One by one, silence and darkness scared them away, until only he remained. He pushed on alone until a baying pack of dogs chased him off.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

A wail gripped the block in a chill. It sounded like terrorists, for a moment, but it was Misha. She was beginning to unravel. Each resident decided it would be worse to interfere and kept to themselves.

* * *

Leah wasn't in the canteen the next morning. Kasia assumed she had the day off, and she wished she had too; between the adverts on her gentle whisper playlist and Misha's racket she had endured a sleepless night. She even hung up on a stubbornly ignorant customer, abandoning her call target.

A negative review came; the jungle on her screen bubbled with toxic sludge; her bonus entered the manager's radar. She blamed Misha for it.

She spotted Leah after lunch, leaving Ollie's office and readjusting heels she'd never worn before. It dawned on Kasia that her sole workmate had done the deed, surely to get promoted. Kasia dived into her portal before anyone caught her looking. Her chest burned.

The commute home took an hour longer, delayed by drunken rioters. Omens manifested across the city - a gold lion's head stamped on the old union flag. Revolution Britannia were creeping in. Services stopped. Police officers wafted where corruption attracted them. Detectives trawled social media for the loudest voices and tracked them down. A spate of pundits calling for riots went offline. Some were soon to commit suicide. People knew not to ask.

Sermon refused to back down. He sent messages and pooled resources. A network of contacts formed with the means for a wider search. He also invited Kasia; she left it unreplied. Arriving home from work she saw Misha bundled and sobbing in his arms. His growing gang were in a corner of the square, conspiring and boasting, streaming and sharing. She continued home scowling.

Eva was too absorbed in VR to register anything but the food Kasia placed in her hands. Kasia's friends were only interested in a new Spiderman reboot. She swiped everything left. Her message to Leah - a lighthearted joke asking how the meeting went - had been read but ignored. She went outside, but nobody was around.

* * *

Kasia again ate breakfast alone. She processed each customer with mechanical apathy; her mind only on Misha. Kendi Estate had awoken to violent retching as the surrendered mother crawled and convulsed, frothy pink bile sputtering from her mouth. When paramedics took her away her mother appeared, organising a fund raising campaign for hospital treatment. This absentee woman, jumping on such an opportunity, reminded Kasia of her own mother.

The guilt in her chest was getting hard to ignore.

With nothing else to do Kasia sulked in weakness. A fantasy of anonymously covering Misha's healthcare, bypassing the narcissist parent, soothed her. Things were so bleak she changed her desk's photo early to lift her spirits. She solemnly wished Peter Palm the best, and scrolled the blue tulip over him.

Eva wasn't at home. She messaged Kasia to say she was at a friend's house and might stay over, she didn't know yet.

Kasia stared through the phone's screen and let it slip through her fingers.

She headed to Sermon's flat and told him she was joining the search.