The Mechanics Of a Circumstance

A story of fascism.

Photo by Lawrence Choy on Unsplash

Farms, just away on a border, formed themselves around a large village; sometimes the farms were to the west of the border; other times to the east; and even occasionally, albeit rarely, to the south; as political winds directed; it was a group of farms, a pair of gin mills and a small collection of nascent factories and small businesses gently encircling a large village.

Here, where the land was wide fields and rolling hills and bright sun and the borders elastic, slapdash nature — green, verdant and insistent — met the occasional slipshod and erratic betterment projects of the shuffling cast of governmental overlords. In one such instance stood a half completed bridge: which bridge, either through fiat or dictum meeting the optimism of the zealot, had been started and abandoned several times in defiance of nature or in flex of industrial might.

One rainy day, at the site of construction, half-dug ditches, precarious heavy machinery and heavy rains, were met by an aimless herd of cows. The cows, wandering up a hill, triggered a mudslide. As a result five cows died but also several pieces of heavy machinery were utterly destroyed and half of the half of the bridge that was built required destruction and rebuilding.

Wye, the party sector chief for the region, launched an investigation into the…