Tales Of The Knotlands: A Merry Curr – 1. Liberty

How long had he lived inside the hollowed out form of this ancient thing? He wasn’t sure it really meant anything to him or anyone anymore – they had stopped calling it the Statue and referred to it as the Shrine and he had become some kind of priest by default. It was true that he defended the thing but he didn’t believe in liberty or anything.
Seriously, what was it that they were free of? Authority had disappeared for sure – when it became obvious that a centralised power system wasn’t going to work anymore the country had fragmented not just into the constituent states which made up the country but communities operating on a much smaller basis and with a more local site specific set of laws. No one felt oppression being pushed on them from above – instead the thing that oppressed them was the all pervasive poverty and the lack of any route out of it. America didn’t mean much as word or a concept any more. Did he think they might be able to rebuild it from the raw materials that they had here? He doubted it – he didn’t actually think that anyone was even vaguely interested in that kind of horseshit anymore.
Vulture was out on a sweep to pick up what carrion he could – he was the best scavenger in the business, and Charley Stick did not think he would have fared so well for so long without him. Charley Stick: High Priest of Liberty – he climbed the stairs and went to light the torch.
He’d heard that packs of bootleggers were roving through his neighbourhoods; doing battle with a group calling themselves Prohibition. These rats weren’t bothered about being on a sinking ship as long as they got to call it their own.
The dry twig snap of gunfire in the distance was a daily thing. People being territorial in a kingdom of fuck-all; it was as stupid as it had always been, but it was their choice, and they held to it steadfastly.

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