Saturday, 20 April 2013

Rolling Allostasis (-ix)


Swiftly, without hesitation, she swung the scythe to separate the one she saw as ringleader from the flock of followers. The flock drew to the bloody scene like animals to a feeder. In service of the macro, some blood in the margins would need be shed. She didn't thirst for violence, but in some cases there was no other way to silence the force of opposition.

Nonviolence, she knew as a full-blooded American, was an idea and practice which had been used demonstrably by proponents of peace for centuries, for sure. But the state (in all of its bloody glory) had also been protected by the nonviolent movement. There was no time for explanation, but one could easily find essays written on the subject. The common redirect for any questions was google it . She allowed for proper burial of the subject, per dictates of tradition.

Any failures to uphold traditions and rituals of the subjugated minority, would be treated as class #0 sedition. Class zero translated to disappearances. Disappearances seemed like  brutal way. But the express intent of these disappearances differed from those commonly associated with the way. Traditionally the tactic was implemented to strike fear in the hearts of those who defended free speech. Unsparingly. She used the tactic sparingly, to speak truth to power. Abuse of power of any kind, was to be prosecuted to the full extent of the new law brought over the land.

She was not interested in reinforcing alliances throughout the system. They would dissolve or strengthen, based upon how she called for decisive action. She knew all too well of time strung out on anarchy. And anarchy was not much fun. Neither was high-financed militarization. Five of ten generations in her bloodline fell to knees, to steady the rolling allostasis of culture in a state of shock, somewhere between the two. This was her inheritance. This was her ground.