Doubt

It wasn't that he didn't believe. In fact, he did believe. He believed that it would fail. But that was enough to hang him. The apostacy of doubt had long been forbidden to the people, by the people.

The cult of certainty reigned across the land. Skeptics were the lunatic fringe who, if they existed at all, at least had the decency to keep walking forward with the rest.

Homer was not a skeptic. He was a believer just like everyone else. The future had a form and it was coming toward them every minute closer.

***

The child moved across the room with the vessel, pouring water. The adults extended their empty glasses but not their attention to the small form that moved among them.

Her blond hair was pulled back into a long tail that swished rhythmically with each light step. The dress she wore was uncomfortably new. The collar chaffed her short neck and the tight bodice made it difficult to lift the pitcher to pour.

The adults at the party were dressed in drab grey suits. They stood in groups of three and four and talked about politics. "What was the president thinking with those summit shoes of his?" "How did the new congressional food supplements taste and how can we get some?"

Edgar held his cup out low and finished telling the pretty brunette about his time as a consultant for the south-mid-Atlantic party. "We got creamed out there by the damned DotOrg in that election. Imagine taking 17% of the vote today? They were a serious bloc then, but now they'd take the oval office if they could crack the double digit."

A shadow appeared below him and his glass began to refill.


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