Who Watches The Rise

Countless flatfooted boot wearers stand near 87 milky solid steps in the crisp fall air. Drones affixed with semiautomatic rifles hover above as they guard the sea of dull khaki and midnight blue garments. All eyes are looking at the tallest step, a pedestal, an 88th step. The leader, a confident, self-proclaimed freedom fighter standing tall with confidence at the cheering lot, clucking promises of freedom.

“And that day my patriots, is today!” The leader licks his insatiable lips. Adoring the admiration of the crowd he picks from his pocket a ripe ruby apple. Chomping at it, he slurps up the juices running down the red skin and lifts it above his head. The crowd all at once begin jumping up and down like petulant children reaching for a cookie just out of reach. The leader chucks the partially eaten apple at the crowd and they all commence on it like ants on a candy bar.  

He laughs while continuing, “For those of you who are just joining us, allow me to introduce myself.” He addresses the camera drone hovering, centered above the crowd. Broadcasting live on every social media outlet. “My name is of no importance, but for histories sake, you may call me Patriot Zero.”  

“Today is the start of a new era. With Congress and the House of Representatives reduced to rubble, we will now begin appointing new representatives. From my view up, here I see plenty of worthy patriots ready to heed the call.” Patriot Zero bellows.

A thunderous roar erupts from the crowd. The leader glances behind him, making sure his dozens of security guards stand at the ready. He gestures to the closest guard while covering his microphone. “

Has the golden eagle arrived?” The overweight guard inquires on his radio, “Yes sir, it’s secure.” the guard chuckles.

The leader squints and tightens his jaw, “Then bring it out here immediately. I’ve got a house I need to begin remodeling.”

The security guard waves over a couple of loyalists, fully equipped in riot gear, they both struggle to carry a large box to Patriot Zeros pedestal. One of the guards was covered head to toe in patriotism garments with a Cowboy hat to match. The other guard was physically fit and in military battle gear, with the rank of Captain on his bureau.

Patriot Zero engaged the waiting crowd, he spouted, “I know all of you are patiently waiting for my next orders, you have all shown tremendous determination and vigor in establishing these first few steps into the unknown. And I guarantee you, the wait was certainly worth it!” Cries from the crowd continue.

“We’ve tried before in the past unsuccessfully, but we have learned from those mistakes. We took notes, poking and prodding a corrupt system until we found weaknesses. And once we were ready, we tried again, and look where we are now.” Patriot Zero cracks’ smiles all throughout his oratory.

The Cowboy and the Captain cautiously step towards Patriot Zero. Eagerly Patriot Zero moves away from the microphone and makes a beeline to confront them.

“What’s the hold up!?” Patriot Zero inquired. The Cowboy guard spoke up, “Constitution Ave was completely blocked off at 18^th and 19^th Street, no way we were gonna make it through with our lives. We had to take 17^th to East Street then take Virginia Avenue to finally 23^rd Street to avoid the military blockade.”

“What happened to Independence Avenue?” Patriot Zero demanded.

“Impossible sir.” The Captain whimpered, “Military forces had Jefferson drive before we even had the golden eagle in our possession sir.”

The Cowboy added, “Don’t you worry though boss, having 30% of the armed forces on your side may not sound like a lot, but when you add the element of surprise, forget about it.” Patriot Zero nodded, “Well done, get behind me and begin getting it ready. I’ve been waiting twelve years for this moment; it’s going to be perfect.” Patriot Zero shouted.

He fixed his gaze on his army of guards near him, “Clear the monument! It’s time for the unveiling.” The guards all obeyed and moved down to the steps revealing behind them a row of tapped kegs and empty cups ready to be drunk. The guards join their drone brothers in the sky clutching their assault rifles, onlooking over the sea of white faces that stare back in heroic worship and ambivalence.

Patriot Zero announces to the crowd, “Now I told you all, I had a special treat for you, didn’t I?” Rallying cries can be heard echoing from the crowd.

The Cowboy and Captain begin to pull something out of the box. “Lift it upward will ya.” The Captain exclaimed.

“As opposed to lifting downward?” The Cowboy offered.

“We don’t even need this case, why don’t we just take it out and we can tap the kegs already?” The Captain said. Both men look at each other and nodded. The Cowboy opened the heavy case, snatched the old parchment, wrapped it up and stuck it in his back pocket as one would an old newspaper. They both gravitate closer to the kegs. “I’m ready to celebrate.” The Captain toasted his partner.

“Wait a minute, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity” The Cowboy said, pausing with a twinkle in his eye. He continued, “I bet no one has ever pulled off a keg stand on the Lincoln Memorial before, help me up.” The Captain shrugged agreeing.

 Patriot Zero points to the cowboy and the captain. “These two patriots just risked their lives coming from the National Archives Museum. While risking life and limb and taking no prisoners of that I have no doubt, they managed to maintain and secure one of the most important documents, to my mind, maybe the...” Patriot Zero is interrupted by a giant clash.

Patriot Zero whips his head around to see the Cowboy and Captain sprawl across the floor completely covered in beer from their spilled keg. Patriot Zero confronts them trying to control his volume, “The whole world is watching, where is it? The Declaration of Independence, where is it?” The camera drone moves closer, hovering picking up all the audio around itself.

The Cowboy pulls a wet soaking wad of paper from his back pocket, it immediately begins to disintegrate into tens, then hundreds of pieces. It plops on the ground in front of them, the beer-soaked cement multiplied the sound. Patriot Zero stands enraged in silence and shock; he takes a moment to observe his surroundings. Noticing the camera drone had picked up and broadcasted every humiliating moment.

Patriot Zero throws up his hands, “Typical. Rising dictators of the past never had to deal with the always annoying, the always watchful eye of the live stream.” Patriot Zero draws his pistol from his holster, “No matter, I’ve already won.” He aims it at the camera drone and empties his clip into the drone disabling the live stream.