PJ Swift

Un-heard

The authorities imprisoned the most renowned poet in the land. They made him stand in a vast open field. Then they brought thousands of his most ardent followers and arranged them in a great ring around him—just far enough, by mere inches in fact, that his loudest shouts could not reach them. And then they made the poet scream his poems at the top of his lungs.

All around, the thousands heard nothing. They only saw, faintly in the distance, the shouting, unheard poet.

Daily Efficiencies

In the name of efficiency, the Regime decreed the elimination of one day of the week. Which day of the week was not announced, however. Instead, various groups of people got conflicting notifications about which day was cancelled. The eliminated days were usually directly inconvenient for the specific recipients. Also, the erratic nullifications created irresolvable conflicts at workplaces and within families which struggled in vain to align individual schedules. Massive confusion and paralysis in all aspects of life soon followed. Meanwhile, as was its secret intention, the Regime hoarded the confiscated days, using them as private hideaways to escape consequences and indulge in exclusive luxuries.

Ready

Could that carefully-coiffed blonde-haired deputy, with his tight, neat uniform, hiding behind the tree, holding his weapon (unnecessarily) up and ready, afraid to approach the front door of the young couple in a verbal domestic dispute -- while the neighbors stand around outside, nonchalantly -- finally joining a partner when it's time to lead away the cuffed and scrawny (likely innocent) boyfriend, could he, could he join the forces of authoritarian oppression?   Oh yes. He's been ready for that moment his entire life.