Cora stood on the balcony of her crumbling apartment, staring at the empty streets below. The city was cloaked in a heavy, unnatural quiet, broken only by the distant hum of drones circling overhead and the bark of enforcers at the checkpoints. Somewhere in the distance, the Chairman’s voice echoed from a public screen, his words sharp and measured, as if carved to perfection. “Unity is strength. Loyalty ensures survival. Sacrifice ensures purity.”
She thought back to the beginning, to when the purges first started. They had gone after the “criminal” immigrants first, declaring them parasites. The Chairman had called them invaders, sneering as he spoke of “restoring law and order.” They were rounded up in raids, entire families dragged from their homes. The news painted it as a victory for the nation, a bold step toward reclaiming security. “They don’t belong here,” her parents had said at the time, repeating the words from the Chairman’s speeches. Cora had stayed silent, too overwhelmed by the sheer weight of it to argue.
Then they came for the talk show hosts and satirists. “Bleeding hearts who undermine our unity,” the Chairman had declared with mock indignation. He dismissed their humor as corrosive, accusing them of turning patriotism into a punchline. Their shows disappeared overnight, replaced by government broadcasts praising the Black Circle. The laughter that had once filled living rooms was gone. Cora had been horrified, but she had said nothing. She wasn’t a satirist.
Next, the Circle turned on the influencers and truth-tellers who dared to speak out on platforms like TikTok. “Agents of chaos,” the Chairman had called them. “Traitors poisoning the minds of the youth.” Cora had watched their accounts vanish one by one, their voices replaced by bland, government-approved messaging. The Unity App became mandatory soon after, monitoring every word, every gesture. Cora had hesitated then, the unease gnawing at her, but she told herself it didn’t matter. She wasn’t an influencer.
The unions were next. They had always been loud and defiant, pushing back against injustice, but the Chairman had turned their strength into a weapon against them. “They’ve become greedy,” he had said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Moochers who only take from those who truly work hard.” Strikes were declared illegal, union halls were shuttered, and their leaders were hauled away. Cora remembered hearing her father murmur, “It’s about time someone put them in their place.” She had wanted to argue, but she stayed quiet. She wasn’t part of a union.
And then, the intellectuals. Teachers, writers, scientists—anyone who questioned too much or thought too deeply. The Chairman sneered at them during his speeches, calling them “elitists” and accusing them of corrupting the nation’s values. Libraries were closed, their books burned under the guise of cleansing the country of dangerous ideas. Cora remembered her mom dismissing it all with a wave of her hand. “We don’t need those people telling us how to think,” she’d said. Cora had felt the weight of those words, but by then, it was too late to speak. She wasn’t an intellectual.
And now, as she stood on the balcony, the silence was complete. Her building was empty, her neighbors taken in the night. The Black Circle no longer roamed her street; they had moved on to more populated areas, hunting for the last of the traitors.
She glanced at her phone. The Unity App flashed a notification: “FINAL PHASE BEGINS AT DUSK. REPORT TO ASSIGNED LOCATION.”
The final phase. The words made her stomach churn. Who were they coming for now? What label would they create for the few who remained? The Compassionates, the influencers, the unionists, the intellectuals—one by one, they had stripped away every voice, every life that dared to stand apart. Her heart pounded as she realized the truth.
They were coming for her.
And there was no one left to speak for her.
Discover more from AJB Blog
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
