Installment 6

 

Og turned.  The way in front of the apartment doors was clearer now.  The creature on the roof had seen to that.  People had scattered toward the distant sidewalks and had taken cover beneath awnings.  Og covered his head, hopped off the step, and then jogged into the street.  After a few steps, he looked back over his shoulder.  Several tiles shattered behind him, but none hit him.  He was in the clear.

He followed the street straight on until he came to Broken Boulevard, then he turned and headed east.  Everywhere he looked, citizens of Oard were jammed together in various sized mobs, and the closer he got to City Hall, the tighter the crowds were.

He nudged past dozens of small gatherings as he made his way around the courthouse.  As he passed by the actuarian’s building, he was forced to jam his shoulder up against the limestone wall just to avoid trampling a group of politically charged young women.  He proceeded on past the Dwarven Disarmament Agency, the offices of the Commission on the Future of History, and the Chaos Crisis Council (CCC).  He narrowly scraped his way through protesters in front of the Oardian Offices for the Dissolution of Named Boundaries then shoved his way past an angry group of kchxthreon(10).  He turned right onto Executive Way then sighed with relief as the square in front of City Hall opened just ahead of him.

There was only one problem.  The square was absolutely frothing with angry citizens and raving demonstrators.  Pitch forks skewered the air, torches flickered, and flags waved.

Og recognized many of the usual attendees from their banners.  There was the Egg Council for a Batter Tomorrow, the Coffee Roasters for a Bitter Tomorrow, and the Dairy Conglomerate for a Butter Tomorrow.  The Anti-War League was in attendance.  The Sexy Librarians for Peace was also there.  But there were many groups that Og did not recognize.  The Reformed Patriot Front, the Patriot Front, Oardians for the Return of Decency, Animals for the Ethical Treatment of People, Citizens for Order, Citizens for Chaos, the Freedom Guild, the Tolerate Everyone Project(11), and the Traditionalists for Tomorrow.

Og frowned.  Though he was seven feet tall and strong as a bull, he was loath to throw his weight around.  He always did his best to handle matters courteously, without the use of brute force.  In fact, he was often overly polite as a way to detract from the tendency of others to view him as a lumbering hulk with no manners.  As he looked out over the seething throng, however, he realized there was little chance of gracefully forging through the crowds ahead.  If he was going to reach his friends in time (City Council meetings always ended promptly at ten), he was going to have to rely on his more beastly attributes.

Fighting down his sense of propriety, Og took a deep breath and waded into the throng.  He was immediately forced to nudge aside a married couple protesting taxation.  “Please excuse me,” he grimaced.   He tried to avoid bumping into a mother with her infant—

“You got little Eddie started early, eh, Maggie?”

“Civic duty!  Can’t learn it too early!”

—then stepped squarely on a man’s foot.

“Hey!  Watch it!”

“Sorry,” Og replied.

“Ya big oaf.”

“Very sorry.”

Og put his hand on the shoulder of sala-man and gave the creature a gentle shove to the right.  

“Take your hands off me, you ape!”

“I’m very sorry—”

“Leave it to a slodhi.  You’re a symptom of the disease!”

“Disease?”

“The disease of P-O-W-E-R!  Oppression.  Manipulation.  Violation.  Exploitation.  Down with the Chaos Lord!”

“Down with the Chaos Lord!”

“I’m sorry,” said Og.  “I’ve never known one.

“Chaos means freedom!” cried another.  “No orders, no borders!”

A chant broke out.  The citizens shoved and pushed.  A punch was thrown.  

Og made his way quickly past the fracas.  He did his best to be kind and not push others, but the result was that he himself was the one who got elbowed, kneed, and manhandled.  When he could, he did his best to use the momentum of a stranger’s shove to propel himself toward the stairs, but the crowd was not always so thoughtful with their violence.  Og lost ground several times.

He’d had enough.  He gave the mob a low growl.  When no one seemed to notice, he gave them a much louder one.  He bared his teeth and shook his head.  Two women fell back in fright.  A man and his dwarven friend cried out, “Good night!” and jostled everyone around them in their haste to back away from the ‘raving slodhi’.  Og couldn’t help but feel slightly satisfied with himself as he used the opportunity to surge ahead.  

Refusing to back down, he hip-checked a rakshasa.  

“Lummox!”  

He lowered his shoulder and rammed a xorn.  

“Rude!”

At the last, Og bull-rushed a gathering of humans.  

As they fell away from him like water on either side of a clipper ship, they cursed him, his children, and his grandchildren, none of which he had.  One human threw a potato at his head.  But in the end, he arrived otherwise unscathed at the base of the stairs leading to City Hall.  Not wishing to cause more offense or be targeted by further vegetable projectiles, Og hastened up the stairs.  As he came to the podiums of the various orators, he turned and quickly glanced back to the square.  The fizzing, popping sea of protest seethed behind him.  Grateful to be past them all, he turned and made his way toward the doors. 

Edited new paragraph:

At the very edge of the landing, he came to the line of orators behind their podiums.  The speakers spat and fumed and worked up the crowd.  Og didn’t know how anyone could hear them, since they all screamed and yelled over each other, but each speaker seemed to have their own dedicated following.  Every now and then a speaker would pound a podium or roar, spittle flying, and make some moving point.  In reply, cheers and screams would erupt from below.  Og paid no attention.  He had no interest in politics, social movements, or economic struggles.  He had a job to do, and that was more than enough.  He hurried past the podiums and headed for the doors of City Hall.

(10) Kchxthreon—There is no known pronunciation of this name and the kchxthreon themselves show no interest in making it clear to anyone not of their particular chitinous insectoid species.  They are arrogant, stubborn, and wholly bigoted toward all other creatures.

(11) The Tolerate Everyone Project only allows people highly dedicated to equality and tolerance to be members, thus it is an extremely exclusive group.