Midnight by Anna Dove (books for new readers .TXT) 📕

my hands on the ropes, I built a treehouse, I built bonfires with my friends when we were teenagers and we all stole our parents’ beer and stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, singing, doing dares...and then I went to college, put myself through working two jobs at a construction company, learned finance. My parents taught me how to engage in the world around me and I did so voraciously, and now...now I see everyone, of all ages, young and old, rich and poor, parent and child, disengaged with the world around them, distracted with this rise of technology, letting it creep into their psychologies to the point that it controls them more so than the opposite. I purchased Apple because it was a good business decision, but after half a year I’ve come to despise the impact that it’s had over the past decade or two on our society. Polarization, isolation, distraction...people are helpless, useless, without these technologies. It’s destroying their lives.”

         Adela turned to him as he spoke, his eyes roving over the breaking waves. He had a long nose, longer than usual, and deep set eyes whose gaze never stayed long in one place.

         “Perhaps if your husband becomes governor, he can take a look at this question I pose: is it a net positive? Socially, does the benefit outweigh the cost? Perhaps it does, perhaps it doesn’t, but the jury’s out, and a lack of addressing it signifies tacit approval. The jury’s out,” he repeated.

         The waves gathered, rushed in, crested and broke, and flattened their foamy edges on the wetted sand, and then rushed out back into the waves as if afraid of staying too long.

         “I believe you’re right,” said Adela. “I had never thought of that. When I am able, I will relay this message to my husband.”

         “Thank you,” said the other. “I just worry, for the generations to come. Technology is important, doubtless, especially in the fields of military and science, but like any powerful substance, we must be its ruler, or it will be ours.”

         The humidity drifted up from the ocean thickly and the air was stifling, but Adela remained even after Charles Gillibrand left her with a goodbye and a nod, and finished the champagne bottle, her eyes fixed on the hazed blue of the horizon.

+

             It was a mass, a throng. They clotted about the Lincoln Memorial in rally form. This, though, was different than the rallies of previous politics. These were the survivors, those whose families and friends had died from starvation, from injury or illness, who now were panting like dogs for a drop of hope. One could see it in their eyes—the wildness, the loss, the fear, the anger. Their jaws were set and their faces turned resolutely towards the podium as she—the one and only she—took the stage.

               Strange how this woman—who not ten years ago denounced democracy to her husband as the stupidest of systems—now had found a way to use the very system she despised. Yet in her triumph through democracy she had not lost her hatred for it. She had no interest in representing the interests of anyone but rather ruling the way she believed people ought to be ruled.

                Human beings, according to Adela, were weak (with the exception, of course, of herself) and thus must be ruled. Men could not control their sexual appetite. Men were violent and abused women; they fell to their basest impulses of dominance and control, because they were weak. If they were strong, they would be able to control themselves. Men were pitiful to Adela; but so were women. Women hated womanliness because they feared its association with weakness—and then they would try to compensate by appearing dominant, ironically, imitating the very men who they often despised. Other women subjugated themselves to men constantly, too weak to take control of their own lives. Adela knew that she could be both womanly and strong; she knew the power that her womanliness held. She despised weakness in both men and women.

              Her approach had no regard for the strength of human character, for she did not believe that such a thing truly existed. She believed in the depravity of humankind, that the power of the human will for evil was the greatest motivator; but rather than searching for a solution that replaced depravity with character, she believed that the only way to contain a society was to eliminate all possible wrong through extensive law. Law was the only way, Adela believed, to curb human weakness. Government must control and regulate the helplessly weak and selfish nature of humanity. Adela refused to believe that there are situations in which character or other influencers can override the default selfishness, and as a perfectly selfish person herself, this last point is what Adela refused to accept. She refused to see the potential for good in people.

                 She entered the front of the monument plaza now, her stunning figure flattered in a crisp white two piece suit with white collared shirt beneath. It was simple but perfectly cut, and she appeared both competent and elegant. Her red lips drew the eye to her face.

+

Snyder Reed hated campaign work. Mr. Gilman’s 2032 campaign had been no exception so far. He sat at his desk scowling, reading through the aggregate poll data for New Hampshire. The primary was in three days and if they weren’t careful, his boss Mr. Gilman would lose to their opponent. They couldn’t lose. It would be the end of it all. Not just the election, but everything to follow. The victory of Mr. Gilman was an integral piece to the real campaign, the campaign for domestic regime change.

The door to his shabby campaign office swung open and a tall, beautiful woman entered. Seeing her, he placed down the reports on his desk and crossed his arms.

“Adela.”

“Snyder.”

“Shut the door and the blinds