It Never Rains in South Natal

[Ebria]

The Natalian She-bear I
Combs House, Camp Hill
14th of October, 7030 hours

You must be registered for see images

The car received the green light from the guard and started on the short road from the entrance towards the main building of the Combs House. Olivia Harper Poole could still not get used to all of this. It was one thing to be a Senator, when she even used the subway to come to Combs House, but now, as the President it was different. She was hoping that she could continue her normal life, but the team at the Presidential wing of Combs didn't have it. They pushed her to move to the Presidential Villa, on Granite Road, close to Combs House, and to have a chauffeur taking her to the presidency and back home.​

​

Combs House was the Capitol of Natal and was a huge building, having three wings, a main one, where the Senate convened, and two small ones, for the presidency and the government. She found a pillar of normality from the olden days in the fact that the guards didn't really care that she was the boss, as they still had her go through the metal detector and the security to get in. ​

She finally arrived into her office, and after a quick glance around, she went into a small annex where she put the kettle on and prepared to make some coffee. "You're late. I already made some," a man's voice could be heard. He startled her, but his familiar tone immediately made her recognise him. Sebastian Carr was the PR advisor of her government and worked not only for her, but rather with her since she was just an aide herself of a senator back a decade ago. "Good, thanks," she said taking a cup he gave her. "Traffic was horrid as always..." she commented. "Then its perfect that the Green Roadrunners won the election, as there are many here in Camp Hill wanting a bit of more oppression for drivers and a bit too much libertarianism for public transportation," said Carr smiling. "No need for that. Not our duty. The city voted a Bobcat Mayor, they can solve that issue. We'll try our luck at solving the traffic issue here if we won the Mayoral office," she said back. "Too bad we're bad at that in Harton too, so I don't think anybody here would put faith in us if we promise a traffic revolution," he said joking. He was referring to the extremely huge traffic jams in Harton, which were probably some of the worst in the western hemisphere, as the city has probably the biggest population density on the continent.​

​

A woman with a dossier enter the office after knocking on the door. "Excuse me your excellency, Mr Carr. I have brought you the files you asked for and the day's to do list," she said in a flat tone, almost militarily. Harper Poole nodded smiling and Carr thanked her and after nodding back, the woman left the office, leaving the files on the desk. "What was that?" Harper Poole asked. "The new secretary. You said something efficient, I brought you efficient," he responded. ​

​

"Okay, so what's in plan for today?" Asked Harper Poole as Carr took the file and started looking through them. "You have a meeting with the Raphael Allen, the head of the Green Roadrunners, followed by a rally here in Camp Hill to publicise the constitutional reform. Also, Ashton Lawson asked for an audience..." Carr said, his voice slowly dying down as he was ending the last word. "I don't know which is worse as of yet, Allen, the head of the Greens, or Lawson the head of the Bobcats," Harper Poole moaned.​

​

"I spoke with Raphael Allen before he asked for the audience," Carr said. "As you can imagine, he's not really a fan of the constitution you proposed," he continued. What Carr was referring to was that Raphael Allen, the chairman of the Green faction of the Roadrunners, was also a long time member of the same post-delegationist groups Harper Poole was a member of too, and was much more radical than her. He wasn't a fan of her constitutional reform, which he called too weak and superficial. ​

​

"I really don't know how we can please him," Carr said. "He says that we should push for the healthcare, education and economic reforms too," he continued. "Allen wants too much, too quickly. There is no reason as of yet to have a revolutionary environment that would give the chance for such a radical change that he wants. No, it needs to be done gradual," Harper Poole responded. "He will say that all we do is just turn the country into a federation, nothing more," Carr protested. "He will need to understand that this is only the first step," she said back. "Ms President... understand that he is a radical, with Taketoriite influences and is the leader of your party and even the head of the Roadrunner Caucus now, he could block our bills by asking our very own party to not vote for them," Carr said. ​

​

Olivia took a pause, and a deep breath, as she sat on her desk. "Sebastian, I need myself to understand, and then I need you to do it, and then I will make sure Raphael Allen and the likes of him do too. I am the president. The people voted me on a mandate that I proposed and that is gradual post-delegationism, social democracy with some syndicalist elements and green politics. It is a mandate that I have striven for, and managed to get the support of the Green faction and of the greater Roadrunner Party and now of the people too. If Allen thinks that he will coerce me into following his line of thought, he is mistaken, for if he turns all this into a civil war within the party, the Roadrunners will be done for, as the party will break and split, but I will make sure, that, if needed, a character assassination campaign on him will be started in such a way, that he will return to the fringes of the politics, and not be a senator ever again. The time has come for us to do what is the best for the people, and if that means do things gradual, not throw anarchy at them and then hope they will manage, then that is what we'll do. We have a responsibility now and about 50 million people count on us," she said.​

​

The secretary knocked again on the door. "Your excellency, Senator Allen is here for his audience," she said in a monotonous voice, with slight a Guiennese accent. Sebastian Carr sighed and looked at Harper Poole. "Okay, let's do this," she said.​

 

[Ebria]

Newsreel I

As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!
​

The Sunset Times: Post Delegationist Women's Group Marches in the capital city in support of the constitutional reform and of the Olivia Harper Poole Cabinet.

NaBC Radio1: June Blackburn: "Goooooooood daaaaaaaaaaaaay, Hartoooooooooon! This is Midday with June, on NaBC Radio1! We are live at the Woman's March, where about 600,000 women have come together only in Harton, with over 1.5 million in the whole country"

As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.
​

The Harton Chronicle: Tarusan and Serbovian governments plan to invest in Csengia's rebuilding projects. "It will be the pearl of the Pannonian"

North Eastern Reporter : Forestry Lines from Nothing into the northern Grans to be reopened after NE Timber Corp. gains financial support from the National Investment Corporation.

As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too. ​

Plaid Cougar: Famous country singer Agnes Hart starts a nation wide tour, organising concerts in Harton, Blackmere, Camp Hill, San Juan, Gaytown and Manganese. The money coming from the sale of tickets is to be donated to charity organisations aiding the homeless in the Greater Harton Area.

The Harton Chronicle: Ashton Lawson: "As of yet, the constitutional proposals given by the Roadrunners are not post-delegationist at all, only providing with a decentralisation which gives more authority to the local communities and less to the elite in Camp Hill and Harton. As of yet, we see no reason to oppose it."

 

[Ebria]

Andres Suarez- Prologue

I know some people balked at the idea of having a part of the city be labelled at the bad part, especially when we are talking of proud Natalians, and even worse, proud San Juaner. Yet, the streets of the neighborhood of Boca Raton were stinking of piss, beer, bad alcohol, and trash from the overflowing garbage cans. The morality and anti-alcoholism laws that were imposed back in the days of the Occidental Republic were still enforced by the San Juan City Corporation, which meant that all bars, pubs, restaurants and shops had to close at midnight the latest, with tax reductions for those that closed even earlier, and a curfew imposed on the streets after 2am, for anyone who wasn't either going to or coming from work. It was already closing in to 12 o'clock in the evening, it was dark outside, and the night's fog was already settling in, probably showing the most wintry environment one could find in Natal. The problem is that in this part of town, on this street, the streetlight was off, and the only lights were from the passing cars, and from time to time, the passing of a trolleybus or bus.

In the light of one of such moving lighthouses (as the bus and trolleybus had the inside lights on, not only the headlights), I looked at myself in the reflection of a shop's window. It wouldn't have been bad if I could have been a little taller, I checked my hair and beard to see if they look quite decently, so I won't look literally like the worst hobo, but neither as some overly conformist old generation copper. My hair was the color of copper copper that you barely found in Natal.

As I continued to talk over the street, I was startled as in a nearby alley, surrounded by the moldy and insalubrious cedar tenements, a young guy was standing, in the darkness, as I could barely see his profile, less than 3 metres from me. Somehow, I was hypnotized by the fact that it felt like he was staring at me, and I just felt that instead of walking away, this might be the man I was looking for.

As I came closer, I started to see some more of his features. His hair was blonde too, not the blonde that is advertised using Scanian models in commercials, but rather some very dark and dirty sandy brown. He had medium long hair, and an unkempt beard, both were bigger than mine, but looking at him, I thought I found my guy.

"What are you looking for?" he asked me. "Depends on what do you have?" I responded. Then I immediately thought that it was an idiotic reply, as probably someone who was really looking for drugs, would have gone directly towards what he was looking, rather that feeling like browsing before.

The guy just shrugged. "Starting with grass, and many other things. Josefino or Hajirite, and even stronger things," he said. I for one was happy that he did not find it weird that I did what I thought of as a rookie mistake and just deflected his question with a different one, instead of just looking more desperate to buy. But maybe he is new to it too and does not know how to read the cues.

"I'll take some grass. How much is the gram?" I asked after I nodded to him. "Fifty Quri per gram. I know it's more expensive, but this stuff, is the best you can find in Occidentia. All the Aquarian kids are going for it. They don't want those Tepico of Meridian thistles," he said. I took out my walled and saw I have 4 Airgid. "Give me too grams," I said, as I handed him the two 2AG heavy, silvery coins with an empty square in the centre. He rummaged through his pockets and took out two small plastic bags filled with the greenish brown buds. "Josefino's best!" he said smiling, showing off some yellow and decaying teeth in a big grin, right when a car passed by and for a moment lit up the alley. At first, somehow I was just hypnotized by the imagery, like the apogee of the aesthetics of ugliness, but in the span of a second when the light hit the alley, I managed to see his face, that made me believe that he might have actually been younger than me. Probably still a teenage. I was ready to say something, but I must keep the impression.

After this brief moment, that I felt it lasted an eternity, I took the minuscule plastic bags and hid them inside my pockets. I was ready to leave, even nodded as a farewell and was ready to leave, when I turned to him again. "Do you have something... anything... stronger?" I asked, emphasizing on the last word. He was a bit baffled, like he needed some time to process. "Something... stronger?" he asked, this time I could hear it in his voice how young he was and somehow a rage just brew inside me, how much potential a young guy could have, and here he was, a disgusting failure, rotting from the inside out, doing his best for some scraps of coins. "Yes, something like..." I started saying, but he interrupted me: "like... hash?" he asked with a voice like he was unsure what I was talking about. "No," I said. "Something that comes from the poppy... like opium or heroin," I said.

Two other guys just came from the back of the alley. I was surprised seeing them, appear out of the pitch black end of the alley that wasn't even lit by the cars passing by. They wore very old suits, maybe up to a decade old, patched up and manky. One was quite big, but the other was smaller than me, and both reeked of piss, sweat and god knows what else. "Why do you need it?" asked the big guy, with a strong, low voice, that made be believe he was quite older than the one I talked with before. "It's not for me, but for a mate," I said, like I was excusing myself. The young guy I made the first deal with started laughing, showing his rotting teeth again as a bus passed down the street. "They all say that," he mumbled, still laughing.

"Look mate," said the older guy. "The grass is class, not a big deal, but you must be weary of the other stuff. You have no idea how many are coming here saying that they are buying for their friends too, but usually the friend is actually themselves," he said, adopting a tone of a stern father that was trying to give his rowdy son a lesson. "But we can provide, if you really need it. I mean, it's clear you're not a local, for Boca Raton, and I don't care what type of haciendado are you, but if you want to experiment with all the shit, don't you worry, we can provide," the older guy continued.

"I can get you up to 5 grams, for 100 quri," said the young guy. "But tis harder to get it, I will need the money first, so we can get it and we will bring it to you the next day" he continued. I felt that the atmosphere was a bit more tense than with the weed deal, but nevertheless, the stuff had to be done. But this, money first scheme I felt it was a test. "How do I know this isn't a scheme to just take the money and then disappear?" I asked, mimicking a quite panicked tone. Both of them laughed. "Look, that stuff is too hot, I don't normally carry it only hoping that someone would buy it. Find me tomorrow if you want it and bring the money," said the young guy. "But if you don't appear tomorrow with the money for it and you made me walk with it on me for nothing, I will come after you and probably flay you, you hear me?" said the older guy, trying to play tough. Yet, somehow I wasn't as impressed as he hoped, as probably they barely saw my face, as I always stood with my back towards the road where the lights from the cars were shining, and all they could use against me was my voice, and probably quite a posh north western accent. "Ok, tomorrow I will come with 90 or 100 quris" I said.

The nodded happily and I turned away, this time looking at my watch as a car passed and it's headlights shined towards it. It was already 20 to 11, so I had to rush to get home before the police will start patrolling the streets and enforcing the curfew, as the last thing I want is to get caught with the weed on me. I went towards the bus station and to my luck, it was a number 61 trolleybus that was going to Ciudad Libertad, where I was living. As the bus started gaining speed, the stank of Boca Raton was left behind, to my own relief.

 

[Ebria]

The Riots

I put the kettle on fire, and prepared two cups. Christian had the day off, so he remained home today, so I started preparing a coffee for him too. He was in the other room, dozing off, while watching some video on MePipe on TV, while I was sitting in the kitchen, preparing the cups, waiting for the water to boil. "Can I roll a joint?" Christian asked from the other room, taking me a bit by surprise. "Yeah, but use only one of the two sachets, I will need the other," I nearly shouted back from the kitchen. I could hear him mumbling something back, but somehow I just didn't really reacted to it. If he wanted something, he could have said it louder.

I put the water in and waited for the coffee to infuse, after which I put some milk in and then came to the lounge with the two of them, right as Christian was lighting up the joint. He took a big puff and then rose up from the sofa to take his cup. I put mine on the coffee table, and then literally threw myself on the sofa, as he took a sip, put the cup on the table and then handed me the joint. I took a deep puff too out of it looking at the joint, as the near extinguished fire was slowly burning towards the grass mixed with tobacco and the roll. It was actually quite good weed, I thought, that manky cunt was right about it. The Josefinos really know to do their stuff. Christian put his legs around my waist as he took over most of the sofa, giving me a puppy face, as he took the joint and took a deep puff. I reached towards the coffee and took a big sip. The slightly bitter but creamy taste felt nice after the smoke.

I looked at the clock at saw that it was closing on to half 7 in the evening. On TV which was now switched back to normal television, a fancy woman wearing an elegant two piece suite and a fashionable haircut came on, with her typical posh accent saying "This is Charleroi, The Federation of Westernesse and welcome to the evening news." We used from time to time to look at Engell language TV channels. She started giving the evening news, but I didn't really followed her anymore. I looked at him, as he took another puff and closed his eyes, continuing to doze off. There was something charming about him, his strawberry blonde hair, the way he had a 5 o clock shadow by 10 in the morning, and with a day off it turned into a nice stubble, his skin that somehow managed to keep a tan up until mid winter, that looked just perfect, compared to mine, his eyes, that had the colour of honey, that were so extremely expressive, that you could read everything on them, but everything felt so radical, the saddest eyes can turn to the happiest ones in a matter of minutes. All I could read on his face was the slightest of smiles... and contentedness.

I looked again at the clock. I don't know what happened that time just passed so quickly. It was already 8, and the curfew was quickly approaching. This quickly disconnected me from my previous train of thoughts, and made me all alert allover again. I moved Christian's legs from around me and I rose up and I felt I was still high, but I needed to leave. I put the cups in the sink in the kitchen when I heard him: "You're leaving?" he asked with a voice that made me think of a kid that was just tucked in by a parent and was told good night. "Yes, the curfew is coming and you know I have to do this," I told him. "Take care," he said half rising up from the sofa. "As usual, of course I will," I told him, after which I went to him and reached out for a kiss. I could feel his stubble prickling me, something that excited me, but I had to go, the curfew was approaching, and as the saying goes, considering San Juan's traffic, wherever you are, the destination is two hours away.

I went outside. The winter evening fog was already settling, and I could barely see in front of me, but as our apartment was in a row of apartment houses on the top of Ciudad Libertad, I could see hazily the big city's light sprawling as far as the eyes could see, the light mixing with the complete and starless darkness of the winter night sky. Somewhere far away, I could see the extremely shiny row of street lights, that were forming an unending snake made of light, that was none other by the motorway, going from San Juan to Santa Fe, crossing through the north end of San Juan. I went down the street from the small one way road where our yellow apartment was, and entered the Jordán Boulevard, a big three lane per way road, with a wide green stretch dividing the two ways.

As cars were passing by, I was waiting for the good old no. 61 trolleybus to take me to Boca Raton. A tram passed by, like anything public transport in Natal and the western world, it was an old one and it sounded like it could break at any moment as it was slowly trying to ascend the hill where the neighbourhood of Ciudad Libertad was situated on. Finally, after a few more minutes, the trolleybus came. I went up, paid the 1 Quri to Boca Raton, and then sat in the back. The bus went down on Jordán Boulevard, passed over the huge bridge over an arm of the Rio Natal, and then after the Parco de Valle de Natal, it went through downtown, going through what I felt it was a zig zag route through the grid of streets that represented the very center of the city, and then it started ascending the hill to Boca Raton.

As the electric engine of the trolleybus was humming like crazy to drag it's huge metal body over the hill, I started recognizing the horrendous smell of the neighborhood. That typical reek of beer, piss and trash. This was my station. I went down and started walking on the road, trying to recognize the alley I stopped by yesterday. After a few minutes, going through the same pitch black road, which was lit only by the random headlights of a passing car, I started to panic, thinking that I will miss my big hit because I just couldn't find the guys I needed.

I walked some more, but by now, I started to feel that I was going on aimlessly. Right when I started to believe it was all useless, I just stopped and saw the profile of someone in a dark alley. "I thought you won't be coming tonight, jefe. That I will have to find you and flay you," said a low voice that I recognized from yesterday. As much as the voice, like yesterday, tried to sound tough and rough, I was actually exhaling happily.

"Si, I did say I'll be coming, didn't I say so?" I asked. "Come, we were preparing to get some hot food, we can talk at a diner, we know a local place that is quite cheap, we can talk there, as it's quite chilly with this fog outside," said the voice. I nodded in approval and the guy came out of the alley and nodded to me to follow him. He was followed by a smaller guy, the one I recognized I talked with yesterday. I followed them to a greasy spoon diner that was nearby and I was happy that it was lightened up. It felt like a lighthouse for the people roaming the pitch dark street.

"Ey, you bastards, what are ye up to?" the guy who was sitting behind the bar asked as we entered the diner. "Ey, pendejo, how's you? Is the biz good?" the older guy asked. "Si, it went perfect this evening, at least until you three came in..." the guy behind the bar said with an exaggerated desperate tone. As much as I thought that the two I got the drugs from yesterday were two useless weirdos, it seemed that they were just part of the local fauna. "So, pendejito, what do you want?" the barman asked the young wee one. "Just two carnitas tacos, I barely have 5 Quri on me," he said. "You, gilipolla?" this time, he asked the older guy. "Hm... gimme the same, but add a coffee too, I'm shattered and I feel I'll just fall asleep any moment," he said. "You, jefe?" he asked me this time. That was when I really though about it. Somehow I was getting the munchies as I haven't eaten only breakfast today and I also gotten high, but somehow I didn't want to look like a weirdo compared to the other two who were eating more.. moderately... but I decided to just go for it, in the end it was my money in the game. "I'll have an Enchilada poblana, and add a beer too to that, Leon." I ordered. The barman started smiling. "I like you, muchacho, a real man, not like those two cunts," he said guffawing with delight.

"So, how many Quris you got on you, I brought you enough of what you need," the older guy said. By now I observed that it was this guy who lead the operation, I was unsure of his relationship with the younger one, but he clearly dealt only in light stuff. "I could give you up to 200 Quris," I said. He made quite big eyes. "I'll give you 15 grams for that, give you a discount poquito. But listen, with this, it's no play around, jefe. I hope it really is for that supposed friend of yours, and if you really aren't overdosing on me with this mierda," he said in a weirdly fatherly tone. For a moment I didn't know what to say, but I decided to take an ace out of my sleeve. "It's actually not for me, nor some form of friend, but more like to all those neurotic rich guys from downtown, Del Mar or Ciudad Libertad," said with something of a snarky smirk. The barman just came with the food, and it might have been only my imagination, but I felt like the guy made eye contact with me as he heard what I wanted to do, and it was like I could feel how the joy in his eyes just died.

On the other side, the small guy was enjoying his tacos, while the older guy was jubilant. "Why didn't you say that before to me, jefe? I could have brought you so much more, but you will need some investment. Something to defend you, a knife, a gun, this city's full of bastards," he said smiling. "A gun?" I asked, baffled. "Yeah, I'll show you what I have, I could sell you something..." he said, but he was interrupted as sounds started to be heard from the street. People yelling and the sound of a police siren.

We all looked outside the window. There were three police cars blocking the road, some of the guards (the Natalian term for policemen coming from Guardia Publica, the Public Guard) were yelling, right when on the other side of the road we could see some people, all young, protesting. I looked at the clock. It was past 11, closer to midnight. Damn, this was bad. The Guards were there to enforce the curfew. Usually it was peaceful, but this time, it didn't seem like it. "Damn, those Aquarians don't accept any shit from the coppers," said the barman. I remembered why this time, instead of just ignoring the curfew, the police was enforcing it. Just earlier, a Josefino immigrant was killed by the Guards, and that sparked a series of protests in the whole Nuevo Tiburia State against police brutality.

"It is past the curfew, as part the decree of the San Juan Municipality! Clear the streets!" one of the guards yelled on the megaphone but the aftermath of that was a rain of stones and rocks and curses thrown towards him. We looked at the whole scene like it was on a movie. The Guards tried to get someone more rowdy from the crowd, it was a young woman, but shit threw punches allover the place so much that she hit one of the Guards in the nuts and managed to escape, running back in the crowd. The whole scene was again followed by rain of stone thrown towards the guards and their cars.

The arrival of three more cars from the constabulary made me wake up from this state of fascination, and I could hear the older guy near me. "We need to get out of here, it's past curfew and we also have our merchandise. If the bastards find you with it, you're done," he told me. I started sweating, but we needed to get out of it. "Use the chaos to make yourselves scarce," said the barman, and we decided to follow his advice.

We got out of the diner and immediately lost the two guys I was with before. I was startled by a rock that was thrown not directly at me, but it hit the police car and it ricochet coming towards me. I tried to sneak away, went past the police cars and right as I was happy that I was close to escape, when I felt the hand of a man pull me of my collar. "No, officer, I..." I tried to explain, as I was feeling like losing my words and panicking. "Shut the fuck up, pendejo," he said as he pushed me to the hood of the car and handcuffed me. "Wait, I'm a... I'm a..." I tried to explain. "I said shut up!" he said and I could feel his accent, coming from the mountains. He threw me in the car before I could say anything. In the distance, in the crowd I managed to find the two guys and I saw them motionless compared to the rest of the rioting crowd, but they were smirking and laughing. I just felt more ashamed that failures like them ended up laughing of me.​