Streams of "young people" were

  making the rounds in cities and megacities the world over.  This was an interstice between modes of State.  Like a regroup, or backstage in a Variety Show.  Many were pissed off, feeling shuffled around though born into existence.  But many had spread the word on taking a break from the "stupid grown ups". 

  A lot of people in a tariff-loaded environment had little or no "cash flow".  Something "organic" was happening though, especially in the ways in which the slow, conservatory-type appreciators of history and time were "coming out of the woodwork" and making effort to somehow join hands in a human chain leaning more towards survival than destruction. 

  "What kind of restaurant should it be?" A man on a development team looked into a fry pan at a lumpy mass of sauce.  "That was for Tapas," a woman wanting into the kitchen side of team explained.  "Did they eat them all?" The man asked.  She shrugged a (i)dunno(i). "We'll list it as market research," the man said.  He wandered towards a dining area with water damage and bits of acoustic ceiling tile on the floor.  Saw an open bottle of Club Soda and took advantage.  He was rubbing at a stain on his shirt when laughter floated from the far side of the dining area.  He squinted to see. 

  "Who are they?" He asked the woman.  She explained (i)caught between Services(i) which she'd learned about from them.  "One was even ICE, but," she made a winding gesture near her head.  "That one's (i)nuts(i)?  Does the person have weapons?"  The woman took up a dry, fresh napkin from a pile and offered it to the man.  "I didn't finish my sentence," she said. 

  "Why?" The man asked as he took the napkin and put more soda on it.  "To be honest, I'm very afraid right now.  Especially with all the stuff going on." 

  "There's always a lot of stuff going on.  Like in a restaurant." He gave a weak smile.  "Finish your sentence." 

  "I will try.  The government is like a head." 

  "Oooooh.  I get it." 

  "They were saying that because of young people fitting into careers with the Services and the Services becoming màs modern, uh, more modern, there's like mergers." 

  "You speak Spanish too?" 

  She nodded.  "Saving my highlights for actual interview.  Why don't you talk to them?  Stain's gone." He stopped rubbing and looked. 

  (i)Damnit!(i) The man pounded the steering wheel of the towncar.  He'd made it three blocks and got stopped behind other vehicles at a redlight.  "Thees vood be much eassier in Moscow." 

  "Why?" Asked the younger of two women in the backseat.  She pushed the sliding pages of writing back at the elder woman. 

  "Becauss dere dey do have passages for diplomats to smoothly travel." He looked at his big watch and the clock on the dashboard and sighed.  Rapped fingers.  Turned on the radio news.  "Turn it off please," the woman said while running a pen through several lines of a paragraph.  The man did.  "Vee 

  "We 

  "May never gatch up." 

  "TRY.  (i)We've got to try(i)."