The Perpetual Convention

Irene’s mug shook in her hand. The sloshes gently patted on the walls of the white ceramic vessel like that one big flood a few years ago. Having a container shaking the contents around with no real intent of stirring anything isn’t futile.

She understood this.

She also understood the intensity of her post. Tough luck if you’re hoping for any time off when every task has to be overseen. The schedule had been changed a myriad of times since last week, as they always have. Right now, however, with increasing irregularity.

Or that’s just the one fragment of her 11-year-old self that stayed with her throughout all these years.

She wanted to go home and nap for a bit. Maybe some coffee and popcorn for a movie. All these things she could have done but instead she was on duty. Worse yet, she didn’t know what to expect, whether they came in only to be notified that they can take their auto or metro home because their responsibilities had been canceled for the day. If the families were going to call in yelling at her even their stipend for the week has been revoked since some of the staff were contracted and no money would arrive when they couldn’t work. Then there's the when.

It could very well be an endless wait for nothing. "Stand by" is a nightmare of a phrase. She was obliged, she did not agree to it.

Irene eyed the uneaten mini Swiss Roll napping atop a butter sheet. The peanut butter hanging off of the edge. A sense of utter envy escaped her.

It was the tail-end of her short fifteen-minute break before she had to take in another three-hour shift as her day was broken into three acts. She came to accept the fact that this was inevitable, and she needed the energy. Yet the cake remained uneaten.

The gentle chatter from the far end of the room created some white noise for her and some general comfort. What they were saying wasn’t important, but the fact they were saying something. Every syllable had been blurry through the unreliable transmission, yet it was this humbleness that gave her peace.

Your time of break has been extended by another fifteen minutes.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Can I get you something from the pantry? You don’t seem to be enjoying it.” Ricky picked up on her loneliness.

“It’s alright. No thanks.” Irene barely had it in her to prop her head up. “Those people are killing us. I don’t know what for. It isn’t in my fault that I somehow offended them. Yet here they are. Messing all of us up. Not even about which faction. I don’t even know which one it is at this point. I just want this to be over.”

“Someone’s gotta do it. I won’t say you should quit, but, that someone would be noted and appreciated it. All of us. I wouldn’t waste time dwindling on whose responsibility this is. I lose myself in the time I’m here. Hey, even through these times we are still in the building. Trust me, everyone is feeling that way.”

The desolate director looked at the small circle as they chatted and exchanged pastries. They seem unfazed.

“Do you have any unchecked sheets? I think the city boys need them to, uh, be authorized. We gotta start filming soon.”

“The authority doesn’t need them. They scan them with their eyes and then they return it to you. I don’t take them too seriously. Nobody does. Bare minimum and go home. Not today, of course. It can’t be today.”

She vengefully tore off a piece from the roll and chewed on it. It tasted oddly like the stuffing you would find in a broken couch cushion. "Thank you for the cake, still." Irene became motionless. "I really, really want to go home. I need a nap right now. Like, now."

"Coffee?"

"I'll oblige."

"Really, Irene? Is this how you go by your line of work now? Pure obligation? Where's the semi-joyous glee I used to see when I looked at you? Where’s the passion for the industry?”

The director buried her face in her hands before smudging slowly off of her field of view as if it was a windscreen wiper.

"There's nothing noble to be achieved here. Nothing. In a few minutes we’re all going to be swarmed with people who are touched up and all in costume and have to go. Client doesn’t like it? Struck down. Bottom line not met? Tossed out.” Her breathing slowed in the slight disgust that threatened to overwhelm her. “And then all the calls we’ll get. This is the type of work we’re doing right now. And I feel absolutely horrible. Can we just cancel for today? Move this until all of that is over. Maybe it’ll buy time for all of us to regain some passion.”

Update 0031 6/14/96 - Southern California Bearist protests turn violent, at least 37 instances of injury recorded since yesterday

This is an ongoing event and will update automatically.

“Oh God.” Irene slumped back onto her chair.

“Look.” The co-worker twisted his arm around to show her a flesh wound he picked up. “I got it too. It won’t be too long before they hit a dam or pick on the wrong person. It happens all the time now. Last year there was this militia and they shot a few officers and— from what it looks like, it’s not going to de-escalate. There’s no reason to. Whatever they do would be to extend their fifteen minutes of fame.”

Irene tugged at her sleeves in a fit of impatience. She let her film blast on anyway on the off-chance she might not have to work too much overtime tonight when she had to do storyline sweeps. Up came a collection of headlines aggregated from a variety of news sites.

Ongoing - Mass Protests Southern CA

Bearist protest for jobs and property rights descend into chaos as Unionists stage counter-protest

We will restore order as we strive to protect free speech rights for all, even those we don’t agree with: Governor Stanton

Bearist Association President Percher condemns attack: This is exactly why we are fighting for a California for Californians
Interviews with self professed “Unionists” of the decentralized Concerned Citizens for a Perpetual Union: California is struggling for the same reason that led America to lose the European Campaigns: The fault of ungrateful, traitorous saboteurs

Masked assailants clad in navy jackets encircle packed Bearists near Alderman Street 250 yards off of I-5

Public shocked as peaceful protesters were physically attacked by mysterious group, blame charged at Washington over attack on California separatists

Governor visits gathering point in Los Angeles, addresses crowd: We are listening, we hear you, we are acting now

Bearists retort: All you are doing is to suppress the common Californian and bring us back into the oppressive system

Unionists engaged in fistfights and scuffles with Bearists
Pro-federal counter-protestors filmed physically dragging Bearists off streets, beating others

Law enforcement failed to adequately protect First Amendment, opinions overwhelmingly call for improved security

She scrolled down.

Flare gunshots combusts near curbs where activists sit, injuries reported

“He pulled a gun on them” - Frightened witness recounts moments before fatal confrontation against police

“This will only get worse, I feel.” Ricky sipped on his mug of coffee. “You get it now? We’re all here for them, that is, of course, if they boil over and San Francisco decides to act.”

“I don’t even know who instigated it.”

“It’s all chaos. Burning, stabbing, gunshot wounds, co—“ Irene sighed and her voiced reduced to that of a mumble. “I can’t imagine what will be—“

“Then don’t imagine. It’ll blow over.”