Defenestrate The Masses
The Words Of Conrad Miller
“Where locked and labour’d, In penance we hale. To the lost and lonely Our pains soon reveal, That through study and knowledge, They do us heal.” It just came to me. It was its own meaning. I walked out onto the porch, taking in the dulling light of an early dusk, the seasons shortening and getting colder, the frost enveloping the glass of my laboratory where shade hid it from an evaporating sun. I could see the City below, stretching out magnificently like the diorama that was designed in miniature, representing the intentions of the Builders. There was always the best of intentions, but circumstance, I am afraid, takes precedence over the best laid plans. Still, what remains of the original design down below pleases me greatly. There is something to build from, and that is the essence of the Utopic ideal we all had. As I breathe in the air, the pure unsullied air fills my lungs with a modicum of regret, regret for those who cannot reach these heights. The Prefects of the Sky remind me of the innocence of dreams that inspire the heart, but my heart is heavy for the downtrodden. It would always be. I help when I can, but it is difficult to aide those who are too proud. I admire the pride, but see no sense in suffering. And there is great suffering. I just wish I could help it heal greater, like swoop down there and clean away the mess and corruption that has crept into every corner of the City, much to my ultimate dismay. There are one or two I would rather be rid of, but I dare not speak their names. Even thoughts travel far and distant in this place. I must do what I can. From up here.Days before there was a crisis meeting amongst the Above people. I attended of course, out of a sense of representation for those who had none. These meetings were full of bluff and nonsense mostly. Too many arguments and not enough solutions. But there had to be a solution in the offing. It couldn’t always be like this. The soul was in attrition, trapped and fearful. It needed to be released, allowed to heal the City. Without it we are lost. Desire was replaced by fear; love was replaced by sadism. This state couldn’t remain.The others present that day were the delegates from the Curved Bundle, the Ridge States, the representatives of the Proctors, who came from the Solitary Tracts; Benedict the Pious, Henrick and Devon, the two Durables and their three Spinners, there purely as muscle. I was there to represent the Builders, a purely honorary role. And the young upstart; Daedalus Devereaux. A boy of ambition and cruelty. Many were fearful of him. I was not, however. Too many times I had seen invaders to liberty. Every time they were knocked down, suppressed.The debate began as it usually did, first by criticism of those who came before. It was argued that the demoralisation of the populace was indicative of a wasteful government. Those who came before were ignorant of the needs of others, a blatant disregard and total lack of research. The Devereaux boy was lead in the revolt of delegates describing the past as full of people with no forward sight, how the system was fraying at the edges. And it went on; is the future doomed to fail? Should sweeping changes be made, regardless of adverse effects? Does the City have an identity? The questions were never definitively answered. It often, as on this occasion, led to a breakdown in communication and a scattering of the delegates. As often with politics, there is much debate, argument, accusations, power manipulations and power turns. But the thrust is no change. Change is something they abhor. It is something that upsets the status quo. Then perhaps they would have to make decisions. And they abhorred decisions more than they abhorred change.As I waited at the Skyport, I surmised something. If it was to change, and for the better, then we had to eat away at the corruption and ridiculousness of current rule, then there had to be a drastic difference. Something had to change the status quo for a long time. Whatever it was, it was going to have to be spectacular. As the door slid open and I sat in my seat of the craft, I smiled to myself. I would put my resources into coming up with a viable solution to the problem. Spectacular. That was it. That was my task. Something spectacular.
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