The Gesture
One day in the big city, one woman stands up against tyrany. In honor of May Day.
When she left the apartment for the first time in days, she knew she was being watched.
This was a pretty simple conclusion, as everyone was being watched all the time. From a thousand cameras, some even in street lights or hidden in trees, a legion of watchers used facial recognition, phone tracking and biomarker technology to track every citizen and non-citizen as they moved about the city. Constant surveillance of “personal” computers and other devices plus hidden audio and video recorders in all parts of living spaces made sure the state knew where everyone was at all times and what they were doing.
So when she took a break from her work at her computer to walk outside, somewhere an alarm went off. It was not forbidden to leave one’s apartment as long as work was getting done. Also, unless a citizen was under some restriction for political action they were free to move about the city. Still, it was unusual and anything out of the ordinary jangled an algorithm and caused eyes to swivel her way. Just in case.
She took the elevator from from the third floor down to the small ground floor lobby, out through the automatic glass doors and on to the sidewalk. The hustle-bustle was immediately disorienting. Cars and buses humming by, people talking and laughing as they walked down the sidewalk. Dogs yipping at other dogs. She felt a bit dizzy, but the bright sun and the fresh air helped her stabilize.
As she walked toward the the park, a hundred cameras turned and followed, their computer and human operators immediately recognizing her. The live image of her walking popped up on at least a dozen screens in dark far flung rooms. So did a brief profile: Name, occupation, residence, place of birth, age, gender, marital status, threat level. The latter, a number derived from some unknown algorithm, hovered above her framed image. Both the frame, a bright green box that centered on her face, and the number, followed her on the screen as if she was part of a video game. The number was flashing, indicating that surveillance, and threat level, had heightened due to her unexpected stroll.
When she reached the park, she sat down on a bench, pulled a bowl and a water bottle out of her pack and watched the birds and squirrels frolic in the grass. From atop a tree nearby, a crow called to its friends. In front of the woman, the whole world flowed by. The street just in front of her was a busy one, with all manner of bus, car, motorcycle and scooter flowing around a large traffic circle. To each side, the park’s tall old trees dominated the landscape. In front of her, a long boulevard spread out as far as the eye could see, with tall glass and steel buildings on each side. Many of the buildings were covered with large video displays carrying commercial messages. Every few minutes, the face of the stern Big Leader took over all the screens over the slogan “Strength through unity.” She could faintly hear the martial music which accompanied the leader’s appearance. After a few minutes, the screens went back to touting beer, cigarettes, clothing and restaurants.
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The woman finished the last of her lunch, put the bowl and the bottle back in her pack, which she hoisted onto her back. She then carefully picked her way across the traffic to a circular green space in the middle of the traffic circle. She looked all around as if marveling at everything she saw. Then, slowly, almost casually, she raised her arm straight over her head. The five fingers of her outstretched hand closed one by one until there was only one finger — the middle one — raised high. It took a few minutes, but soon, all the drivers and passersby were staring intently at her. Two or three accidents ensued with much honking and angry words from the drivers.
Still, she stood, middle finger raised high. Then she stretched out the other arm and raised a clenched fist. More accidents as people were aghast at what they saw. Did she know what she was doing? Didn’t she know they would come and take her away for the slightest gesture of opposition or criticism?
Alarms were going off in numerous dark offices lit with monitors. In seconds, her image filled all the screens up and down the street. The image of the Big Leader appeared with the words “Arrest Her.” His voice could be heard throughout the canyon of buildings bellowing for her apprehension. Other screens superimposed the words “Traitor” across her image.
If she noticed any of this, she didn’t show it. After several minutes, she pulled down her arms, picked her way through the car wrecks and went back to her park bench, where she was arrested by several masked, black clad soldiers and led away.
This latter image, showing the woman going quietly with the soldiers, was shown on all the screens up and down the street. Thousands of people saw the gesture and the arrest from nearby sidewalks. Millions more saw it on their phones and televisions. After she was taken away, the image of the Big Leader appeared on the screens. This time he was smiling. His voice loudly chanted “Strength Though Unity” over and over accompanied by the recorded sound of thousands of people cheering.
Only on the street, no one was cheering. Cars and buses stopped and the drivers all got out to look up at the screens and their phones. It was if the busy city had suddenly come to a complete standstill. Then, a funny thing happened. A young man in the square where the woman had made her gesture, raised his clenched fist and middle finder high. Within seconds several more had joined him, all raising their arms in the same gesture. Arms went up like a wave through the crowd which now filled the street as far as the eye could see, all with the fist and finger high. And from every side street people gushed into the central city, where the screens continued to display the smiling leader.
Soon, there were millions in the streets. They were laughing and dancing and gesturing and hugging. People were yelling all sorts of slogans like “Down with the Tyrant!” From somewhere near the middle of the crowd, a chant was growing and becoming stronger. A few hundred people had begun chanting “Freedom!” Every second, a hundred more added their voices. The chant shot through the crowd and was picked up and passed down the street. A million voices howled “Freedom!” It rolled through the park trees, it rattled and echoed off the buildings and it rumbled like the tide down the central boulevard.
More and more people were streaming into the city. All at once the crowd began to move as one vast organism. A large group at one end of the gathering began to point itself to the presidential palace several blocks away. As they moved, people surged behind them, still gesturing, still chanting, laughing, dancing, crying.
There are conflicting stories about what happened next. Some say the mass of people converged on the palace and simply overwhelmed all the soldiers and security with only a few shots fired. Others insist the revolt was very violent with heavily armed palace guards shooting tear gas and opening fire with automatic weapons. Waves upon waves of people were killed, they say, which just made the crowd more angry. They surged forward, tending to the fallen as well as they could, completely overran and disarmed the masked soldiers.
No one knows for sure which version of the palace siege is true. But one thing is universally agreed upon by those who lived through that dark time. The Big Leader was never seen, nor heard from, again.
