Z-anon-sensei Speaks #96
“Silence invaded the suburbs…” W.H. Auden
Xenon just hoped she didn’t run into him tonight. One night with Mick Pettifogger was more than enough, truly. It wasn’t that he was so bad, once she got him going. All of that had been okay, really. Unconsciously, she brushed a hand against her breast at the memory, though she could barely feel it through the catcher’s padding she wore under her black sweatshirt. But the next morning, when she caught him smoking some H in bathroom? I’m mean, shit, that stuff is just gross! And totally counter-revolutionary. Thank god he wasn’t shooting up, or she would have puked. Oh, he was all, like, sorry, it’s just for some pain since the cops beat him up, or some shit like that, but she’s seen too much, even at her tender age of 23, to bee-gin to hear that kinda talk. It had all come clear to her in a flash— he was a mooch and a loser, and she got him out of her place as fast as she could after that. (It wouldn’t have been Portlandian to not at least get some French Roast in him first. Even a fully pissed off Xenon wouldn’t do that!) She pitied him, really, if she bothered to think about it, which she was truly trying not to do right now.
She was on her way down to the Courthouse, after taking two nights off, walking the short mile from her studio apartment in the EkoLivin Village next to the freeway. RiotRibs might be breaking up, she’d heard, because some undercover cops infiltrated the work crew and fucked things up. And maybe the Fed ^goonies were leaving, at least that’s what the Governor said but what does she know, truly? That Wolfe-at-the-door had denied it it right away, said they were staying as long as “needed.” Needed? WTF? But Xenon needed to check out what was happening for reals. She had her livestream gear and press badge. Check. She had helmet, goggles, gas mask, covid mask and a spare. Check. So why did she feel like she had forgotten something?
Meanwhile, back in the WhoreHouse, Pretendident Thump has been thinking about canceling the election. I’ll call it, “postponing”, he thinks. Maybe “delay”. It’s all such a pain in the ass, anyway. The only thing about it he likes are the rallies, where he can say literally anything that bubbles up into his mind, just say it, and they laugh and roar and cheer. It’s beautiful, really. But with the virus he can’t even do the rallies anymore. He remembers for moment that Hermie just died, too bad, that was his black supporter! He’ll have to find another one. But, supporters or not, this election deal seems pretty sketchy anyway. So he posts a tweet, calling for the delay of the election. That should get things started. Maybe he’ll call elections a hoax, next. That “hoaxhex” spell those ^poetwizards cooked up for him seems to work every time.
But Z-anon-sensei says canceling or delaying the election is not an essential component of ^darkplan, though it is one option. All of those scenarios have been incorporated into the tree of possibilities, and mechanisms for response to each possibility are already being developed.