100 Proof

There is no Messiah, he said. Once this nation’s in its tomb, it’s staying there.

Have you lost all your faith? she replied. Have you forgotten how resilient we are?

He curled his lip in indignation. Who is this we?

We, the people, she said.

We stand divided, not united, he said. No one has been assigned to be the savior this time.

It doesn’t have to be just one person, she replied. Perhaps each one of us, hands together, can move that stone aside.

During the spring’s unexpected snowstorms, the pine tree across the street lost branches. A rock in the creek out back halved, cleaved by ice as strong as a chisel.

I don’t recognize our land, she said, suddenly more tired than she had ever been. They’d gotten word their child’s free meals at school might be cut, and she fixated on the grocery budget every minute she wasn’t worried about something else.

She had grown up believing the daily words about the flag and the Republic. Now, adrift in unseasonable cold, she didn’t know where to look for truth.

There was no denying the plummeting approval ratings, which he understood because of his television work, because he knew how quickly the network cancels shows when people stop watching.

He began to look in the mirror for long minutes each morning, trying to get out of his own head, trying to see what might be so unlikeable. I’m a handsome guy, he thought. I know lots of things. Many things. Big things.

What confused him was how everyone was watching, but still, the ratings dropped by the day. This didn’t track with anything he’d experienced before.

The editors, who had had entirely enough, gathered in a conference room.

This might harm our reputation, said one who was entirely too thin and devoid of humor.

The people who will get it will think it’s hilarious, said the editor-in-chief, and the ones who don’t get it already think it’s true. I see no risk.

They developed a story budget packed with nonsense. Some of it was funny, some of it wasn’t, but none of it was sourced, none real.

I’ve got your fake news right here, the editor-in-chief said, signing off on the list with a grin.

I’ve known cowards, she said. I’ve known men who did not know enough to know their own minds. But they were so rarely mean-hearted.

He’s not so much cowardly as stupid, he said. I’ve known men like that, and the stupider they are, the meaner they get.

She thought about the man with the blackest heart she knew, about the night she lay crumpled, waiting for him to leave. She thought about all the times she’d said no and had been overridden.

I can’t take much more of this, she said, and the spirit of revolution rose inside her.