The newspaper article continued, but I lost interest in the fanciful play for the world. To explain things simply, Deckon had a hint of reactionary in him. Consequently, the other leaders perceived him as a threat.
The government testified reactionaries were, "...terrorist plotters, whom demand the destruction of everything the Great Revolution created; all that
is out strength!" Yet to the underlying opposition, the reactionaries were freedom fighters, a David versus Goliath.
Taking a break from the disinformation, I looked up. Sitting across from me, I saw Carl and Martha; they were anything but reactionaries. Then there
was Natasha on my right. The gorgeous, mysterious, payroll accountant whom worked at the local, Workers Wages & Productivity Office; she kept
everyones rations in check.
Finally there was Omeron, a close friend of mine for numerous years sitting to my left on the tables end. We both worked at the mining quarry near the
city's northern edge. I was Head Crane Mechanical Technician, and Omeron was the Supervisor of Crane Operations. Both of us sympathized with the
rebels, yet we never said we did plainly, only subliminally.
The clock was approaching 6:28 in the morning, and Martha made eggs and toast for breakfast. Since there wasn't much food to go around, everyone in
the building pooled their food rations together to form larger meals. Martha was generally in control of cooking, and housekeeping of the complex.
That was Martha's occupation, she enjoyed it.
I stood up, walked over to the counter; I grabbed a plate. Scooped up some of Martha's scrambled eggs, and grabbed a slice of toast. I went back to
the table, and sat down on the end chair, between Martha and Natasha. Carl was reading the Primier Union that I had set down. Martha got up to
tidy the kitchen, humming while doing so.
Omeron got up, put his plate in the sink and asked me, "Are you going to be ready to go today? I don't want to be late again." "I know, shut up."
I reflected lightly, as he walked away. Being hungry, I dove into the warm scrambled eggs with ham bits.
After finishing, I topped it off with the remaining cup of bitter coffee. I glanced at Natasha, wittingly winked and smiled. "May I say, good morning
to that beautiful young woman beside me." I gleamed. "Whats's the occasion?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with mystique. "Just that sparkle in
your eye today." I replied, with my tongue in my cheek.
She laughed, Natasha and I often flirted but never anything more; anything beyond coquetry seemed almost forbidden by both her and I. For what reason
I still don't know. She was born with an amazing body and exercised her body's amazing slenderness so much she has great spite with other women.. I
smiled back at Natasha, and left the table on that good note.
[Edited on 3-8-2004 by BeingWatchedByThem]