Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

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Tag: police state

The Compound Eye

Step into riot gear and turn on the compound eye. Advance. Look down at your feet to know where you are, look forward to see what the rest of them see. Move like one being through the crowd, strike precisely. Advance. But it was someone else, you were looking at someone else’s feed when the boot crushed that larynx. Act on instinct, spray capsicum like a frightened skunk. Advance. Feel good. Advance. Have a secret betting pool with the others. Every night, you trade serial numbers, making identification useless. Everyone vouches for everyone. This is anonymity, not those Catholic masks.

Dead Zone

The train slows to a halt in the middle of one of the few dead zones left in the country, all fields of wheat and poppy. We get out our phones in vain, then there is nervous chatter to fill the space the engine rumble left.

A sextet of police officers comes in through the door calmly, wielding their instruments. The front man points – “Him,” he says, baton a millimetre from someone’s nose. “And him. And her.”

These people are led to the last cart, that cart is detached. The train starts rolling again and those left exhale with relief.