First Draft Chapter 30

I ended up leaving that meeting early. David didn’t even notice he was so absorbed in what was going on, and Helen waved good-bye to me as I snuck out the door. When I woke up the next day, the campaign was in full swing.
I walked to class, and found my way littered with anti-war posters. They were crudely drawn, and the artists did not attempt to hide the fact that these posters were done at the last minute. They had probably been hurriedly drawn last night at the end of last night’s meeting, but their artistic quality was hardly important. They were there. They were not hidden away in some working class alley where the Strates would never find them; they were here, right in the middle of campus. They were bold and defiant, with slogans written in huge letters and placed on streetlights and benches, on the front of buildings and even nailed to tree trunks. That was enough in itself.
The slogans themselves were very simplistic. Again, an indication that these posters had been a rush job. "Stop the war," or "boycott the draft," or "say no to imperialistic warfare," and other such simple stuff. Obviously, the intent was not to explain why one should oppose the war. Rather, it was meant to tell the Strates, Old Flash, and whoever else happened to see the posters that opposition was present. "Here we are," the posters screamed. "We exist and you can’t ignore us." No further message was really needed.
I got closer to the middle of campus, close enough now to see the academic buildings. All of a sudden, out of nowhere another student appeared by my side holding a petition. "Hey man, what do you think about this war?" Somehow I had not seen him approaching at all. Either that or he had leapt out at me from behind a tree. One second I was walking along, the next he was by my side. It actually startled me a little, and my heart jumped.
He didn’t even wait for me to answer before continuing. "Look, we’re trying to get people to sign this pledge saying they’ll never fight in this imperialist war. We’re trying to stop the war effort before it even begins. Do you know why we’re even fighting this war in the first place…." He kept talking, but I walked straight ahead, ignoring him. I was even careful not to make eye contact with him. I just kept my head rigidly focused on the path ahead of me. He had obviously been at the meeting last night. I didn’t recognize him, and he probably didn’t recognize me, but it had been a large crowd. Eventually he realized I was purposely ignoring him, and he stopped walking with me. "Think about it man," he shouted as I continued on my path.
But these people were all over. As I walked towards my building, there were two people collecting signatures at the door. Not wanting to even face them, I turned around and headed the other way. I went towards the library, figuring maybe I’d spend the morning studying instead of going to class, so I could still be productive. Very few people went to the library in the morning, so I thought nobody would be collecting signatures there. I was wrong. There was someone at the door, but it was a face I was always glad to see.
I saw her before she saw me, but as soon as she saw me coming she called out my name. "Hey Jon."
"Hello Helen," I replied.
"What are you doing here? Don’t you have class right now?"
I shrugged. "I wanted to get some studying done."
She smiled at me. "You didn’t do your homework again, huh?"
She seemed so happy to see me. I wanted to just grab her hands or embrace her or something. It seemed like it was the natural thing to do. "Maybe not."
She tilted her head and smiled again and pretended to be upset with me. "Jon, Jon, Jon, what are we going to do with you? You are the laziest man I know."
"I can’t be that bad."
"You’re close. So what was up last night? You left early."
"Was David upset?"
"Oh, a little bit. You know how he is though. I think he kind of expected it from you actually."
"I meant to tell him I was leaving but he seemed so interested I didn’t want to disturb him."
"Don’t worry about it. He wasn’t that upset. He’ll get over it."
"Did I miss anything."
"Yeah, all sorts of stuff." Helen suddenly looked around her, as if struck by a new thought, and then lowered her voice. "Actually, I probably shouldn’t talk about it out here."
"I understand."
She held up her petition cheerfully. "So, did you sign one of these things yet?"
"No, I haven’t had a chance."
She handed me a pen. "Well what are you waiting for Jon?"
I signed it. She had about half a page filled up with names already. "So how’s the campaign going?"
"Fantastic Jon. Look at this, I’ve only been out here for a couple hours, and look how many names I’ve got. Almost everyone I’ve talked to so far has signed this thing."
"Wow."
"Yeah, it’s so exciting. I really feel like we’re part of something big here Jon. I think there’s a lot of energy on campus that’s just waiting to be focused on something. I really wanted to be out by the classrooms, but all the good spots were taken by the time I signed up to help. Not many people go by the library this early you know."
"Do you need any help or anything."
"No, I don’t need any help here." The word "need" was emphasized. "It’s so slow around here that I can handle it by myself. But, if you want to stay and keep me company…." She smiled to punctuate the invitation.
"Yeah, sure that would be no problem. I can get you anything if you want? Are you cold out here."
"No, not really. It’s been pretty warm actually the past couple days. I think we might have an early spring this year."
"Maybe."
Helen lowered her voice and leaned in to talk to me. "Do you know we might march later today?"
I responded in the same hushed tone. "I thought there was no march without a general strike."
"That’s just it though. They might call a general strike. There’s a special workers council meeting this afternoon, during the lunch break. Just the representatives are meeting, and Ares and Emma are going to be there too, and they might decide to do a general strike."
"What happens then?"
"Everyone walks off their jobs at midday, and the workers have their own march. Then, we have a separate march so that all the Strates have to divide their attention between us and the workers."
"Really?"
"Yeah, stick around. We’ll find out around one what the plan is. Either we march or we go back home for the day and wait to see what happens."


David showed up after about an hour. He went straight for Helen as if he didn’t even see me. "Hello dear," he said in a casual tone, kissing Helen lightly on the cheek. "How have things been going this morning?"
"I got about a page and a half full," Helen answered proudly.
"Excellent." David turned to me. "Jon, how are you doing?"
"Good."
"What happened last night?"
"I had to leave early," I said. I knew that wasn’t much of an answer, but I thought just maybe I’d be able to get away with it.
"You shouldn’t have done that," David replied. "You missed a lot of important stuff." I could tell immediately from the tone of David’s voice that he wasn’t very upset with me. At most, his voice registered mild annoyance. I was relieved.
"Why aren’t you at your post?" Helen asked.
"The Strates are on their way. We all left our posts. I came over here to warn you." Helen registered a face of pure horror. "No, no calm down. They’re a long ways off from you. You have plenty of time. Just put your petition away in your book bag."
Despite David’s reassurances, Helen was still worried. I could tell by the way her voice was shaking. "I didn’t bring my book bag with me."
David shrugged as if he didn’t see what the problem was. "Then just put it in Jon’s." Helen quickly thrust the petition at me, and I automatically grabbed it and put it in my bag, not really thinking about the significance of what I was doing. "It’s nothing to worry about," David continued. "The rest of us all got away from the Strates no problem. We just put our petitions away when we saw them off in the distance, and we disappeared into the crowd before they got close enough to recognize us. The only person they caught was Bernadine, and that’s just because they caught her by surprise."
"Is she alright?" I think Helen and I both asked the question at once.
"She’s fine. They confiscated the petition, and they wrote down her name and student number, but that’s it. They didn’t do anything else, they just let her go right there."
"I don’t get it," Helen commented. "Why are they being so…" Helen paused while she struggled to find the right word, "so lenient?"
"Because we have them scared," David replied gleefully. "They never expected this kind of mass outpouring of anti-war sentiment, and they know that if they try and jail us all it will just increase public reaction."
That was probably true, at least in part. But, David didn’t seem to realize that this was part of a pattern that old Flash always uses. Wait. He waits until he knows exactly who he’s dealing with, and how strong they are, and then he acts so suddenly and swiftly his opposition doesn’t even know what’s happening. Flash’s strategy also has the advantage of lulling his opponents into a false sense of security. They think they’re safe because Flash reacted to them, and then Flash usually attacks just as they’re beginning to lower their guard.
"Did you hear about the march today?" David asked me.
"Is that for sure?" Helen asked.
"I’m sure it will be. It’s getting close to lunchtime already. I think the others are regrouping under the chapel. Besides, we shouldn’t stand at your old post to long," David said to Helen. "We’ll look suspicious."
"Agreed," Helen answered. I nodded my head as well, and we began walking away from the library.
"Slow down," David said to Helen, who was initially walking at a brisk pace. "No one said we had to run. Just walk slow and calmly, we have plenty of time." Helen nodded and apologized. David put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her against him. "Hey, calm down, okay? Everything’s going to be all right. Don’t worry." His voice wasn’t harsh and commanding, nor was it passive and indifferent, but soothing and reassuring. I was even comforted by his words, even though I should have known better.


When we got to the chapel basement, it was already a hive of activity. True, there weren’t near as many people present as had been there the night before, but those that were present made full use of the space, moving all over. We entered quite easily. There was no one even watching the door.
As soon as we opened the door, questions assailed us. "Hey, did the Strates get you?" Phobos asked.
David laughed. "Don’t be silly. We saw them coming from far away."
"Yeah, those uniforms don’t help them blend in to well, do they?" Dionysius commented.
"What’s the news?" asked Phillip. "Are we marching this afternoon?" Everyone else echoed the same question. I don’t know why they thought we would know. I guess just because we had come in from the outside, they assumed that we had brought the latest news with us.
"I think we are," David answered.
"Is that official news David?" Emma’s voice had an authoritarian tone to it.
David shrugged. "I don’t know why we wouldn’t march."
"But you don’t know for certain?"
"Not for certain, no, but I can’t see why we wouldn’t march."
Emma nodded her head, and went back to what she was working on. Everybody was working on something. I grabbed Dionysius by the arm as he walked past. "What are you doing?" I asked.
"I’m working on a flag," he answered. He pointed to the pile of fabrics he was cutting pieces out of.
David began to take an interest as well. "Which flag?"
"A revolutionary flag," Dionysius answered proudly.
I didn’t know such a flag existed. "Is there a revolutionary flag."
"Not yet, but there will be soon."
"You mean you’re just making up a flag?" said David. The question had a tone of admiration to it.
"We can’t march without a flag," Dionysius answered matter of factly, as if the question was silly in the first place.
"I guess we can’t," David answered.
Emma poked her head up again. "Remember Dionysius, the march isn’t for sure yet."
It seemed that, in Rosa’s absence, Emma had taken control of the room. Of course that brought up an obvious question, but David asked it before I could. "Hey, where’s Rosa?" he asked.
"She’s at the worker’s council," Emma answered.
David flashed a confused glance back at Helen and me, and then addressed Emma again. "But, aren’t you the delegate?"
"She said this time it was too important," Emma replied. "She wanted to personally speak to the workers."
Ares spoke up as well. "Rosa told Emma and me to just supervise things here while she and Varro went to the worker’s council.
Emma’s face flushed burning red before she changed the subject. "We’re working on banners here for a march if you want to join in."
"Yeah, we’d love to," David answered before I could say anything.
"We’ve got supplies all along the room," Emma indicated with a sweep of her hand. Indeed, various art supplies lay scattered all over the floor in a disorganized fashion. "You can spend as much time or as little time as you want on your banner. I just keep reminding everyone that this march might not happen, and in that case everything we do here will get thrown away, so just don’t get too attached to whatever you’re working on."
David nodded. "Fair enough. Shall we get started on something?"
"That would be kind of fun," Helen said. Turning to me she added, "this ought to be right up your alley, huh Jon?"
David pointed his finger abstractly in the air. "Yeah, art stuff. This is the kind of stuff you love Jon."
"You can help me on this if you want," Emma offered, indicating her banner. "I think I have all the words I want on it, but it could use more decorations."
"Down with imperialist aggressive warfare," I mumbled aloud, reading Emma’s sign. "Very poetic."
Emma smiled at me. "I think it makes my point. Come on Jon, grab a paint brush, you can help me decorate it."
"Yeah, go ahead Jon," David encouraged. "We’ll start on a new banner."
Emma was already handing me a brush. "I think I need a breath of fresh air," I said. Everyone suddenly looked at me like I had horns growing out of my head. They weren’t buying it. I had to do better. "I mean, I have to go talk to Clio. She’s probably pretty worried about me."
This seemed to go over okay. Everyone looked at me normally again. "Be careful out there Jon," Emma warned.
"Why don’t you bring Clio back here with you," David suggested. "She likes to paint too, right?"
"Maybe. I’ll see what she wants to do," I responded, backing towards the door.
"Be back here around noon," Emma called after me. "It’s going to be a big day."


I had no intention of seeing Clio of course. And I certainly had no intention of even suggesting that Clio come and join the little art fair in the chapel basement. Clio seemed so small and fragile to me, that I shuddered at any thought of bringing her into any situation where there was the slightest possibility of danger.
It was all an excuse just to get out of there. I just had to get out. I’m not sure why. I wasn’t sure then, and even as I write these words I’m still not sure. Maybe it was something in the air. Partly I think I was embarrassed at thought of doing something artistic in front of Helen. Then, she would see me for the fraud I really was. She would see I wasn’t an artist. I couldn’t create art, and I couldn’t understand art. Helen, I imagined, would be able to deduce all of this just from a simple glance at my work on a banner.
Partly I think there was a sense of not belonging. I didn’t understand the war and I didn’t know why I should oppose the war. And I wasn’t one of their group. I didn’t share the same dedication to this cause, and I didn’t want to be there when they started telling all their little stories to each other, and bragging about how close they came to being caught by the Strates on such and such a night.
But, just as I couldn’t stay in the chapel, I couldn’t stay out long either. As soon as I came out of the basement, I had a sense of leaping from the frying pan into the fire. The campus was swarming with Strates. They were walking everywhere, ripping down signs anywhere they could, and even harassing some students. And even worse than the Strates, the Cadets were everywhere too. I guess it was only natural that the Cadets should help patrol the campus, but I knew it was trouble for me to be out. The Cadets would look for some reason to harass me. They would empty out my book bag perhaps, and find Helen’s petition inside it, and use that as an excuse to have the Strates arrest me. Worst of all, I wouldn’t be able to do anything to the Cadets. Not with all these Strates around, I wouldn’t even be able to defend myself.
In the distance, I thought I could even see Orion walking around. The Cadet in question was really to far away to recognize, or that is he would have been too far way if he were someone else. Orion’s massive frame was easy to spot a long ways off. That was all I needed. Just to know that Orion was around was enough for me. I ducked back into the chapel.
"Ah, back so soon," David commented as I walked in.
I grabbed a paintbrush. "Still need help?" I asked Emma.


It wasn’t really that as bad as I thought it would be inside the chapel. The work was simple enough, and though I occasionally did find my companions somewhat annoying, Emma was very pleasant to work with. She was very friendly actually. She asked me all sorts of questions about my life, and when I answered she had the attitude of someone who was genuinely interested in the answers. These sorts of people are hard to find. I asked tried to ask her the same questions back just to be polite, but mostly the conversation focused on me. The time passed rather quickly, and Rosa was returning before I knew it.
When Rosa came back, she came back with style. The door sprang open, and Rosa entered, her long coat fluttering behind her. Varro meekly passed in as well, almost getting hit by the door as it began to close. Everyone dropped whatever they were holding at the time to look over and see what Rosa wanted. I myself dropped a red paintbrush onto the banner, creating an unsightly red blotch and what had previously been a very neat looking piece. Emma casually picked up the brush, almost without me noticing.
Rosa seemed to want to hang on to the suspense for a while, for she stayed quiet, simply staring at the rest of us. We were all quiet back, waiting to see what she had to say. Rosa raised her hands up. "We march!" she declared. The room broke into cheering.
"What happened?" Emma tried to ask. "What happened at the Worker’s Council?" Her voice was drowned out.
Dionysius waved his flag in the air excitedly. It was a tattered thing. It looked like he had made it by just throwing together all the left over pieces of fabric that he could find. The thing incorporated just about every color imaginable, and had it arranged in almost no discernable pattern. "What is that thing?" Rosa asked.
"It’s our revolutionary flag," Dionysius answered.
Rosa regarded the flag with a kind of disgust, then simply turned away from it. As Rosa walked toward the center of the room, Emma caught her. "What did they say?" Emma asked, grabbing Rosa by the arms. "What did the Worker’s Council decide?"
"A general strike of course," Rosa answered. "Why else would we be marching?"
"But what happened there?" Emma was starving for details.
"They voted for a strike. We barely even suggested it to them and they approved it."
Emma opened her mouth to say more, but Rosa turned from her and faced the rest of the room. "We march! We march!" she called out triumphantly. "What are you waiting for? Go through the campus, get everyone you can find. Tell them about the march." This command was addressed to the whole room, although only about half the room actually followed Rosa’s instructions and ran outside. The rest stayed to see what else Rosa would say.
Emma grabbed Rosa’s shoulders from behind and shook her eagerly. "General strike meaning everyone?" Emma asked.
Rosa turned to meet her. "Everyone. From the factory workers to the sanitation workers, to the munitions workers, everyone is on strike."
"And are they marching as well?"
"They’re in the streets right now."
"Well what are we waiting for?" Emma squeaked excitedly. "We need to march to show solidarity."
Rosa turned to those of us still in the room. "What are you waiting for?" she said. "Go, go, and don’t come back without at least five more recruits. The revolution has begun."
And so, before I knew it, I found myself on the march. Dionysius was at the head of the march, waving his patch work flag around. "Long live the revolution," Dionysius shouted excitedly. Rosa would at times gently suggest that Dionysius move more towards the back of the parade, but Dionysius insisted the flag be at the forefront of the march.
There were a lot of students on the march; perhaps two thousand were present as we poured off of campus and onto the city streets. People stared at us with wonder from the storefront windows as we went past. Occasionally different chants would originate from different parts of the march, although never did the whole march ever say the same thing at the same time. The whole march never seemed to move at the same speed either. Sometimes those in front would be moving way to fast for those in back, creating huge gaps. Rosa did her best to try and keep things together by slowing things down in the front, but often she would overcompensate, causing the back of the march to get too bunched up. All of this made the march look like a spring coil, becoming tight and then stretching out again, and then becoming tight.
Rosa was at the front of the parade, although she seemed to wish to distance herself from the flag and at times would fall back a little into the crowd. David also insisted on being near the front, and Helen, Icarus and I fell in behind him. Actually, Icarus soon detached himself from the front to wander throughout the rest of the parade, but Helen and I stayed dutifully by David.
It was interesting, I admit, to be close to the center of things. I was marching next to Rosa for a time and could hear everything she said. For instance, I was there when Philip pushed his way up to Rosa. "We’re moving away from campus," he said worriedly. I knew immediately what his worry was, and it was silly. If Flash planned to shoot us, than he would shoot us wherever we went. It made no difference if we were marching close to campus or away from campus, or even on campus. And yet, at the same time I understood what he meant. I think we all felt safer on campus. Some irrational feeling, like a child who feels safe at night underneath the covers, although even a child’s mind knows those covers offer no protection. Somehow we felt like campus was our haven, our safe place in which the Duke would not dare touch us.
"That’s the point," Rosa said. Her voice was icy calm. It was much the opposite of Phillip’s. "We want to move away from campus. We want to be a visible presence."
Emma, who was also up front, interjected herself into the conversation. "Where are the workers right now?"
"They’re downtown, blocking the streets."
"We should join them," Emma declared, almost like she was giving a command to Rosa.
Rosa thought for a moment. "We’ll see," she said. "Let’s see what things are like when we get down there."
I listened to the sound of the march. It was a pleasant sound. It was the sound of thousands of feet hitting the stone road, but it wasn’t like those Cadet marches where every step was rhythmic. This was the sound of everyone marching at their own pace. It sounded like rain falling, not like an organized march. And everyone was yelling and chanting things, but different things. It was a chaotic sound, but it was pleasant. It made me feel like it was a holiday or something. And the warm sunshine made me think that spring had indeed come early this year.
Dionysius was still in the front, making broad sweeps with his flag. "Turn down there," Rosa commanded, indicating an upcoming street. "We’re heading down town." Dionysius turned with a rigid formation, imitating very much how a Cadet might have turned the corner. We all followed him.
Dionysius didn’t see them as soon as the rest of us did. Either that or he just didn’t care. He just kept marching and waving his flag while the rest of us came to a dead stop. It was off in the distance. All the way at the end of the street actually. But there they were. Strates. There must have been close to thirty of them. And…and…It was so hard to tell. But it looked like, just maybe, they might be carrying…
"Guns!" Phobos shouted out terrified. "They have guns!"
Phobos must have had better eyes than I did, but I saw it now. The usual wooden clubs were no where to be seen, and instead the Strates carried rifles. Big long rifles. With Bayonets fixed to them.
"Stay calm," Rosa called out loudly. "It’s just an intimidation tactic. They’re not going to fire on us." But Rosa couldn’t even convince herself. The icy calm was gone from her voice. She was worried.
I looked at the Strates again. Where they closer then they were a second ago, or was it just my imagination? And those rifles. They were so big. How could I have missed them the first time? Panic swept through me. What was I doing here? Every illegal march before has ended in blood. Rosa said so herself. What made me think this one was going to be any different? Because of the General Strike? What difference did that make? What kind of logic was that? Flash won’t shoot at us because he was busy with the General Strike? Nonsense. If Flash feels like his back is against the wall, it will make him more likely to lash out, not less. How could I have believed that stuff about the general strike? Rosa had sounded so confident when she said it, as if she was stating a matter of fact, as if no one could have disputed it. "We’ll be safe if there’s a general strike. It was the same tone that one says, "this table has four legs." I just never thought to question it, but I should have known better.
"Stay calm," Rosa repeated. "We’re not going anywhere. We’re staying right here. They’re not going to scare us away."
Dionysius still waved his flag excitedly back and forth. "Long live the revolution," he called out in his loudest voice. "Long live the revolution." I wanted to rush forward and wrestle him to the ground and make him be quiet. He was tempting fate by yelling at the Strates like that.
"It’s lucky we were stopped here," Ares said in an aside to Rosa.
Rosa didn’t have a clue what he meant. "What?" she asked loudly, turning to Ares.
But he was already in motion. He picked up a piece of the brick road and hurled it through the window of the furniture store on his left. The storefront shattered with a loud crash. "Hurry," Ares yelled to the stunned marchers, "before they fire on us. Emma understood what he meant. She picked up a brick and hurled it through the store on her right.
Rosa suddenly realized what was going on. "No, not yet. They’re not going to fire," she cried out. But Rosa was too late. You can’t stop this sort of thing once it’s started.
Ares, with the help of a couple others, dragged a table out of the store and threw it on the street. David, Helen and I were already tearing up the street and placing the bricks together as a protective wall. Emma was throwing chairs from a neighboring store onto the street. Soon, Rosa was giving directions to those of us working, having abandoned her opposition to the project.
The blood was pounding through my ears. I didn’t know why I was building this barricade, and I didn’t care. It was exciting. Even as the first barricade was being erected, Rosa began directing the creation of a second. "We must protect ourselves from all sides," Rosa said. "Everyone help. There’s no time to waste." I grabbed a chair and used it to smash a window. What a satisfying sound it made. What a beautiful crash. "Jon," Rosa called me by name. "Jon, light’s out." I knew immediately what she meant. Once darkness hit, every street light would be our enemy. They would illuminate our position, and expose us to gunfire. I felt privileged that Rosa would give me such a task. The first street light shattered into a hundred beautiful pieces. I turned viciously on the second street light. It perished just like its brother. The passion to destroy is a creative urge.
I ran down the street. The chair was like an extension of my arm as it smashed into the light post. I eagerly looked for another streetlight. Instead, what I saw before me was a beautiful glass window. It was for a barbershop. Smashing it would hardly have done us any good. Yet, when I uncoiled into it, sending glass shards everywhere, I received nothing but applause. It was just a temporary distraction from my destruction of street lamps.
"Jonny, do you need help?" Icarus called out. No doubt he was envious of my job.
"I’ve got it," I called out over the shattering sounds. Every lamp was mine, mine alone. I had found my purpose in life. Let others create a new world, my job was to destroy the old. I was placed on earth to be an agent of destruction. I rushed from street lamp to street lamp, destroying anything that could have the slightest possibility of shedding light on our barricade. I operated in full view of the Strates, even moving closer to them to seek out streetlights. It was as if I was tempting them to shoot me. But I feared them not. I was obsessed with my purpose.
And then, it was finished. Every street lamp in sight had been destroyed. My senses began rushing back at me, and I realized where I was and what was happening. I was standing at ground zero of "the revolution" or the massacre, one could have called it either name. It was the last place I wanted to be. I let the chair drop from my hands, and walked slowly away, still feeling rather dazed. Everyone was so busy erecting barricades they didn’t even notice me as I headed back towards campus.