Shatter-Me-PDF-Shatter-Me-Series-Shatter-Me-Shatter-Me-1-Tahereh-Mafi (1)

The wind whips their tattered remains, but the signs are
determinedly fixed, flapping against the steel and concrete
structures they’re stuck to. Some are still pasted to poles
sprung right out of the ground, loudspeakers now affixed at
the very top. Loudspeakers that alert the people, no doubt,
to the imminent dangers that surround them.
But the world is eerily quiet.
Pedestrians pass by, ambling along in the cold, frigid
weather to do factory work and find food for their families.
Hope in this world bleeds out of the barrel of a gun.
No one really cares for the concept anymore.
People used to want hope. They wanted to think things
could get better. They wanted to believe they could go back
to worrying about gossip and holiday vacations and going to
parties on Saturday nights, so The Reestablishment
promised a future too perfect to be possible and society was
too desperate to disbelieve. They never realized they were
signing away their souls to a group planning on taking
advantage of their ignorance. Their fear.
Most civilians are too petrified to protest but there are
others who are stronger. There are others who are waiting
for the right moment. There are others who have already
begun to fight back.
I hope it’s not too late to fight back.
I study every quivering branch, every imposing soldier,
every window I can count. My eyes are 2 professional
pickpockets, stealing everything to store away in my mind.
I lose track of the minutes we trample over.
We pull up to a structure 10 times larger than the asylum
and suspiciously central to civilization. From the outside it
looks like a bland building, inconspicuous in every way but
its size, gray steel slabs comprising 4 flat walls, windows
cracked and slammed into the 15 stories. It’s bleak and
bears no marking, no insignia, no proof of its true identity.
Political headquarters camouflaged among the masses.