"It was a matter of National Security," the man told the other middle-agers.
"Someone" had been a-spying the dome on the mountain from satellite space and using it to mirror such buildings elsewhere in the world. "You're shitting me?"
"Directing air traffic flow to accomodate druggies and terrorists!" The man's eyes misted. "What is it?" The woman stepped closer. "Breaks my heart."
"Little bites, little bites, little bites," a black woman who'd received weight loss suction was encouraging the roomful of eaters. Some people eating had missed many meals. Some had never had "meals". One cried, overwhelmed at being given a toothbrush and soap. "Like our National issues people," a Task Force person echoed the notion of little bites.
Then "too thin," but argumentative against being told what she was or wasn't, the little woman's skin had the scars of "having been fat". Sometimes she raised her voice and asked to stares, "What you looking at?" Othertimes she surveyed the people inquiring with looks and started telling herstory again.
"All of 'em. Come to us, America, with remarkable stories."
"Well, that's great. But exactly who pays the bills here?" A postal worker held up the stack of mail and the neon colored sticker that had been on the post box telling Dead Mail.
Some people changed seats. Most just looked absent-faced.
"So, I was thinking we could tackle the Story, I love saying that, from any of these angles," a young woman had drawn colorful circles of leads and sources of infomation. She'd picked three or four areas of known factors in the story that were colored patches of what she called "overlap". "Okay, I'll go but you gotta make clear to your boyfriend that
"Nobody's hitting on me."
"Gang warfare sucks!"
"Grew up in Orange. I know."
Expensive and souped up vehicles went round and round in the disrupted traffic. "Why is the clinic closed?" A person hanging out asked. The question was repeated through a Community channel line of Communications. "Who wants to know?" A self-identifying "mentor" sent a question back. The younger person huffed, "NOBODY."
Something like 28 fires had been started for various "personal reasons". Businesses were splitting shifts and hiring security teams to guard property and personhood. CEO's temporarily hired extra assistants.
Whole neighborhoods turned on lights for twenty-four hour days. The smells of food filled the air. People who knew about a people'd history of the United States stayed in the streets and on porches telling and telling about real life in America (as opposed to "textbooks", many of which were being burnt in grills and little piles on lawns).
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