Story:The Partisan/4 June

Revolutionary Meeting #304, Proceedings of 4 June "The plan is set," said B, his yellow teeth barred in triumph. With a long ruler, he tapped the whiteboard three times in a few particular spots. "Operation Rising Ogre." "Graceful Rising Ogre," interjected The Goat, stroking his beard with both hands. "We agreed last week to change the name to signify our GROwth." B nodded. "Operation Graceful Rising Ogre." Taking out a red erasable marker, he quickly corrected the error on the board. "Our President, so near and dear to all our hearts, will die." B paused, waiting for his audience of three to groan and boo the evocation of our enemy. The pause continued to go on for some time, and was getting quite uncomfortable, so I obliged with a token noise of displeasure. B then resumed. "Our President will die on the anniversary of his first fraudulent inauguration, June the 15th; indeed, he will die at the very moment he desecrated the Capital's air with his oath of office. As he drives his hideous golden limousine motorcade across the Central Plaza which he has, as of last year, named after himself, he shall drive over a manhole that will detonate, killing him instantly, along with several of his most trusted Loyalists." B paused again. I quickly took my hands off the keyboard to clap, so that the meeting would finish within the allotted time for once. "Disguised as sanitation workers, we will have planted the bombs the day before. Su will monitor the parade so that the President does not deviate from the chosen path. The Goat has already counterfeited the permits and stolen the proper uniforms. I have provided the explosives." B twirled his drooping mustache. "I believe that there is no more to discuss relating to the plan. The long awaited freedom of the Nation is nearly upon us. Tyranny lives for eleven days longer!" As customarily, B gave a small bow at the end of his speech to scattered applause. "Any questions?" Such a comment is meant to be disregarded in quotidian human interactions, but as it turns out, I did indeed have a question that had been simmering within me. Since we still had 14 minutes left in the allotted time for the meeting, I ventured to open my mouth. "But what about the revolutionary song?" For the first time, B turned to look at me, sitting in the back of the room, aglow in cheap laptop's screen. "The what?" "The revolutionary song," I repeated. "You know, what they sing when they pull down the statutes of the tyrant. It gets people in a good mood and spreads our message quickly. Also, I think we ought to sing it at least once during the course of Operation Graceful Rising Ogre. So that people get the right idea about what we're doing. It should summarize our objectives, but give them a good poetic flair." B raised an eyebrow. The cloud of smoke that surrounded Su spoke. "I think it's a good idea, for once. We don't want people getting the wrong idea about our organization when we kill the President." She took a long drag on her cigarette. The Goat nodded vigorously. "All of the other successful revolutions I've heard of have songs that go with them. I can't believe we haven't considered one until now. What would the French Revolution be without La Marseillaise? Definitely unsuccessful." "La Marseillaise is quite a catchy piece," conceded B. "And that's just the most famous example. Bella Ciao is now even famous in movies and television. One day, they will seek to portray this room, this very meeting." The Goat waved his hands wildly for illustrative purposes. "And without a revolutionary song, what will be the award winning soundtrack? Just the bare noises of furniture scraping against the ground?" Normally, here I would argue that diegetic sound is often acceptable if used tastefully in the pursuit of artistic freedom, but I was wise enough to stay silent, as the conversation was tilting in my favor. "You raise many good points." B considered. "I would very much like to played by Chris Hemsworth in the film adaptation." "Not a native actor?" asked the cloud of smoke that ostensibly held Su. "It will be a Hollywood adaptation. They have a set pool of actors to pull from, as per their formula. Unlike the Revolution, there are some compromises in the film industry." B started to pace back and forth in front of the whiteboard. "But what song should we use? The National Anthem, once a truly beautiful piece, has been perverted by the wiles of the current administration." He grumbled quietly under his breath, wandering back and forth, until his eyes came upon me again. "Don't you have some sort of literary education? Something that the elites taught you to show why their manufactured social hierarchies exist?" "Well," I replied, "it was a history degree, and it examined the different structures of the social hierarchy throughout human recollection. In fact, the inherent unfairness of the system being on full display was one of my main impetuses of joining…" "Perfect," said B. "You will be tasked with composing us a song that summarizes the objectives of the revolution and that will be sung in future stage, screen and television adaptations of our movement." Turning back to the board, he wrote the word "SONG" in all capitals, followed by six question marks of increasing size. "But I know nothing about musical composition," I protested. "That's no problem," interjected The Goat. "All of the great anthems reuse previous music, so that the common folk will be able to sing along without having to learn a new melody. We will find a suitable pop song that everybody knows the tune of. Perhaps something like "Hey Jude," which has a calming yet also aggressive atmosphere. All you need to do is compose the lyrics." He nodded. "Yes, it really is quite simple. There is nothing quite as easy as sitting down and writing. Certainly when compared to assassinating the President!" I looked at my comrades in the room, who, for the first time, looked back at me with something that almost resembled admiration. "If it is the will of the people, it shall be done." I said nothing more. If I was devoted to the Cause, then I could do this, easily. And was I to be the Revolutionary stenographer for the rest of my life? It was a role ill-befitting of my own abilities, to be frank. B coughed. "If there are no more complaints, questions or concerns, then let the Revolutionary Meeting be adjourned."