Vox Populi IIEveryone remembers that day: The day the parcels came. No one was expecting them and not everyone got one. That's what made it so hard; not being able to talk about them because you could never tell who got one and who didn't. Well, not at first. Later, as time passed, that obstacle faded as The Fifth (capitalized by those who lived it) drew near. The people who had received one of the mysterious parcels all had a different air about them one of nervous expectation, of guilty defiance in unguarded moments. Nothing was ever said, not out loud. But there were subtle not-quite-glances between friends and strangers alike, a knowing. Tension began coiling, day by day, growing tighter with each news broadcast, each headline, each reassurance that life was as it should be. As the days marched on, some people began casually mentioning dinner plans, or visits to friends,
Vox Populi I--a trick? / Is he alive? / The news said he was dead, but then how--?How many did he send? / How did he know I--? / Oh God, will they come for me? / Why me? / What do I do? /--said to stand with him at Parliament / God, I can't go there / Will he be there? / What will happen?I'll get black-bagged / --black-bag me / They'll kill me / They'll kill us / Like they didMumDadSarahEdwardMrs. BrownGrandmaUncle Stephenour neighborsthat manthat womanthose people(She didn't / He didn't / They didn'teven do anything)Oh God, they'llblack-bagcome fortake awaykillmy familymy dadmy auntGrandpamy mummy babyI can't do this / I can't have this here / I'm so afraidI hate this /-- hate living like this /-- can't stand this / God II HATE THIS.