The Newsreel
Alex felt his arm shake and tumble. The earpiece in his ear played music that swelled and swelled until it forced him out of his slumber. The tone reverted to a conventional ringtone as the green bar below the text on his arm ran the width of the film again and again.
He slowly sat up. Her girlfriend slept facing him, right side of her face against the pillow, her right hand clutching what used to be his figure before their dreams drifted them apart. Through the sheets was the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the relatively quiet white noise that came with it. She was still deep asleep.
A quick tap on his arm dismissed the name “Kevin Chase”. A small wavelength pulsed up and down as a timer began elapsing and only a small red button for him to end the call was shown.
"Hey. I appreciate your call. But it's like 5 am." His voice became softer, as to not wake her.
"Did I wake your girl up?"
"No." He smiled as he placed a hand on her cheek to feel her temperature. "Is there a specific reason for a call right now?"
"I called to ask about the league."
"They are out today, I believe. I haven't asked about it, but I got a text from Cleaver saying that he will be off regardless. You know he doesn't miss these events normally, only if the league won’t be in today or he has some family gathering. Don’t seem to be the latter.”
"True. I just shot an 825 with a 232 average just a few nights ago."
"792 and 241.6. They are hurling 250s and they are the best."
"They aren't always consistent. It’s just the easy pattern they have. Switch it out, they’ll be struggling 200. Two opens in one game and barely shot 217 for them. Likely sandbagging. Is your girlfriend coming next week? We’ll get her a soda.”
"Angel wanted to stay home, her parents might be coming and she’s looking for some quality time with them. They might stop by next week.”
“You’ll still be able to come, right?”
“Yes. I have my all gear. I don’t know, her parents are completely set in stone yet. We’ll have a better idea and give you an update.”
"Have at it, Alex. We are waiting on you to throw anchor. Talk later.”
"You too."
The wavelength pulled taut and the display returned to the time.
He darted a quick look through the curtain. Teal filtered through. He lowered down to his girl and began to touch her arm.
“Sun is coming up." He whispered in her ear. “Time to get up, syrup."
Angel slowly animated until she held on his arm for dear life.
“Good morning, sugar." She forced a murmur out of herself.
“Good morning.”
He rotated his left arm, and the bathroom lights came on behind a door of frosted glass. Then it emanated the swirling of the toilet cleaners and the water infused with it. The lamp by the nightstand also faded into light.
She dragged him onto herself. The delight when their heartbeats synced. The coziness when she was entirely enveloped by the single person she cared for most.
Her eyelids fluttered open. The pupils in her eye grew.
Sometimes you forget what you were supposed to be doing when you are fixated on a person you admire.
"I think I'm really fortunate." Angel blushed.
"You're too good for me.” It was the typical reply for her. Everyone else was way above her league.
"I think the same about you." Him raising himself nearly forced her impulse to drag him back in. "I'll go wash up.”
She smiled.
“Also Kevin called me. I told him about you not being available. If you want me to stick around, I’ll cancel for you.” He can't resist the urge to kiss her again.
“Sure.” Her face flushed red as she bashfully turned away. “Gotta go make breakfast for Max.”
Angel descended the stairs. Her footsteps stopped briefly as she noticed her brother playing with his tablet on the carpet.
"You're early." His naive voice caught her attention.
“I was gonna wake you up!”
She smiled on reflex as she was reaching the floor. Max stopped and watched as she walked over and sat on the edge of the sofa, and placed one hand on his shoulder.
“What would you like for breakfast? Toast? Scrambled eggs?”
"I'm not hungry."
“Your mom will kill me if I don’t make you something. How about chocolate spread on toast?”
Max laughed at her and nodded.
“I knew it, Max. I knew it.”
He largely turned away to toss the tumbler underhand onto the coffee table. It did a backflip through the air, and landed unto the tabletop with the counterweight virtually bolted to it. He probably spent the better part of last night and the morning practicing it.
She recognized the relative emptiness of the far wall of the living room.
“Let me put something on for you.” A couple taps on her Film.
"Yeah, sure." He left the tumbler wobbling rather unenthusiastically.
A white rectangle expanded itself on the wall was complemented by the slow fade-in of the actual content.
Masked men clashed with police. The protestors clutched to their signs with a spray-printed bear insignias as they face the threat of having it destroyed. A few in dress shirts and T-shirts alike, all masked with a bandana over the face and under the eyes, all with pins of the American flag pinned to their lapels like you would expect to see on the President of the United States, joined law enforcement in quickly swinging baseball bats at the protestors and retreated immediately behind police lines before they could be defended against.
No job. No food. No home. No future. In this California under President Johnson and Governor Stanton! One sign read.
The Bearist Association fed me as the Federal Government STARVED me, another sign read.
If you hate California so much, then leave California alone. A third sign had this to say.
The Bearists rescued me from a flood when my home was hit. The Bearists fed me when I was hungry. The Bearists gave me shelter when I had to go homeless. The Bearists helped me find a job when I had no money. What did Washington or Sacramento do for me? NOTHING! The fourth and final sign picked up by news station cameras protested.
The camera held still as white smoke encroached over the scene beyond the front line. The image zoomed out to reveal pieces and shrapnel from the makeshift barricades was hastily torn open as the advancing law enforcement stripped them of their assembly. Those who dared confront them risked serious injury and gunpoint. Those who didn't, sat on a nearby curb, sobbing and moaning sorrows into their own fists.
One aspect that was unscathed by the abrupt entrance was the defiant chanting of issues that hit them. They were uniform, they were persistent. It cycled from election fraud, to race relations, to violations of basic rights. The loudest complaint, ironically, was the policy of aggressive federal eminent domain. It ended with a unifying call that the federal government was no longer a cause they could throw their support behind.
There’s a mention of the Bear Flag Revolt that led to the independence of California from Mexico somewhere. Some called themselves “Bearists” and donned what looked like the bear insignia on the flag on themselves.
“If you’re just tuning in, this is footage from around four in the morning. Widespread protest marches for the Bearist Association of California broke out over San Diego County over the past week, but overnight, tensions have escalated between the authorities and the participants of the California Convention summit conference. Reports poured in when skirmishes dawned on the territory. At least 15, so far, are rushed to immediate medical support, while a further 80 declined. What's your take on this, Walter?"
"Well, we have to look at a number of factors, not least the Bearist Association but also these individuals calling themselves ‘Unionists’—“
"What's that?" Alex ran down the staircase.
The blood running down from the temple of one of the protestors with an icon of a bear pinned to her chest. A man pointed at his lapel pin and argued with law enforcement before he got similarly bashed. A placard calling for jobs and property rights that was held in the air before it was dropped after the holder hastily retreated from the line.
“This is what the federal government is doing to me! They send us these Unionist goons to rough us up! To intimidate us!”