Miri was a dark haired, dark eyed woman, with a striking pale-white complexion. She was slender, and tended to accentuate her curves and body tones in black clothes. She would wear black lycra tights, black leather tights, black blouses, gloves, socks, black shoes, black sweaters, shirt, dress, trousers - all black. Today, she was wearing a gorgeous, black lycra dress, underneath her new black leather jacket, and her hair was tied up neatly in a single black scrunchie. The static ends of her hair were clipped back tightly in shiny, black clips.
Today, Miri was out in the front garden collecting the post from the post-box, when she noticed her handsome neighbour watering the flowers using a watering can, and as she strode to collect her mail, she naturally lifted an arm up, and greeted him in acknowledgment:
'Hi, Miri!' her neighbour acknowledged, 'Apparently there's an all Summer long hosepipe ban, that I'm having to water my flowers using this watering can.'
'I guess it would have been all the more easy to water these beds using a hose,' she observed. She shook her head. It was a stupid, unnecessary rule, and hindered a lot of gardeners. Although it was Summer season, weekly showers were regular, and the state was hardly running dry.
She took a bundle of letters from today's post-box, and as she walked back towards the house, she flipped through them. Ah! There's what she was looking for. One from her eight year old daughter. She crossed her fingers, praying that her little girl's mail wouldn't be censored. Ever since the new government, all mail was unnecessarily censored. The simplest of sentences were rephrased, or, sometimes, not allowed at all.
When she opened her mail, she noticed a drawing of a person, and her daughter labelled it 'Dad' underneath the picture. It was drawn messy, and you could just about discern the face and the body, and though the colouring-in was not neat, you could tell the effort was made by an eight year old girl. Her girl.
Besides the drawing, there was also another letter, but this one was from the State. The note declared that the little girl had also written a letter to accompany the drawing, and 'the message is not allowed.' Miri could not hold back a single tear which fell down from her face, in missing her beautiful daughter, desiring her eight year old's censored message, and holding the drawing her daughter produced close to her heart. How dare they?! How dare they snoop into an ordinary person's private mail, and censor innocent messages?!
Miri's daughter was called Josy, and she lived far away up north with her ex-husband. Miri and Josy's father had divorced some time ago, and John was who was given custody of the child. John was a good man, and never banned Miri from ever seeing the child, but the inconvenience of doing so was caused by both distance and Miri's working hours. Apart from Josy, Miri had another kid, but from another man. This man had walked out on the both of them six years ago, and had never come back. The day before Sam's dad walked out on both him and Miri, he and Miri had a very huge argument, but she was hardly prepared when he walked out on her and her son the very next day. Sam was fifteen years old, and his father walked out on them when he was just nine. She was extremely bewildered when she discovered that the very day after the argument, he had gone, just disappeared, and never came back again. Even today, she would look intently at the front doors, eagerly anticipating that they would open up, and George would be walking back in. It took her a very long time to realise that he wouldn't.
When Sam returned from school that day, he had red blisters all over his arms, he was helplessly holding his sides, and there were blisters on the sides of his face:
'Darling, Sam!' she exclaimed as he dropped into her arms. He wasn't crying, but gasping heavily and taking long drawn-in breaths.
'What happened, darling?'
Sam had come home from school in a similar state yesterday, and it was just as bad for the two of them then. Secondary school had gotten a lot harder ever since the new government brought back the cane. They would slap the children , and beat them unnecessarily as a statement of their authority. Miri was thinking of boycotting the school while her son was suffering. Of never letting her son return there again, until they got sorted.
'It's the prefects,' gasped Sam. Sam's secondary school imposed a rule that in the event a pupil was considered to behave disobediently, both the teachers and the student prefects were allowed to punish the pupils using corporal punishment. The prefects tended to be students who were in their final year of school, and they were elected so that they would maintain the order. Most of them tended to be sixteen years old, and no older. Sam himself was only one year below the year prefects were elected. It was possible that if he behaved himself, he also had the chance of being elected prefect next year. However, he opposed their laws so much, he didn't want to be. Surely these kids were still too young to decide who would receive punishment, and surely they were too young to be allowed to dish it out.
'A boy called Ronny,' Sam said. 'He's a prefect, and he really has it in for me.' Sam always knew that the reasons Ronny had to dish out these punishments against him were feeble lies. What Ronny was really after was blood. Sometimes what Ronny wanted to do was to outdo the punishments of the other prefects. Ronny wanted to prove that he was a lot tougher than the other prefects, and Sam was the subject of Ronnie's attempts to outdo their punishments.
'This is preposterous, Sam,' declared Miri. 'You cannot go back to school while this situation goes on.'
'I don't want to go back to school,' wailed Sam. 'I can't, mum. I won't go! Please don't let them make me.'
It was resolved then, that while the situation continued under the circumstances, Miri would not let Sam go to school. She would let him take sick leave with a message from the doctor. Permanently.
Indeed, when the doctor inspected the marks and scabs that Sam took from school, he instantly understood, and wrote him a letter for sick leave. Doctor Raja was always a good doctor, and always a good friend of Miri's family. He had been their doctor for a long time. He was their doctor under the old government, and continued, still, to be their doctor under the new government, purely under the merits of his qualification and experience. However, he still maintained his own principles, and this by no means changed under the new government. He would give Sam a sick note, and let Sam take leave for as long as need be.
Miri's only fear was that the school would get suspicious. That the authorities would call asking about why his leave was so long. That is exactly what happened.
It was barely three weeks Sam had taken off school, when Mr Mains, Sam's class teacher, called to enquire about why Sam had not been coming to school.
'Can I come by please, Mrs Mellow?' he asked, addressing Miri formally. 'It's important.'
Miri allowed Mr Mains to come over to the house to see herself and Sam, so he might realise for himself how bad the situation was.
Within minutes, Mr Mains arrived, driving briskly in his blue Ford car. Once he rang the bell, he was guided into the living room, and Miri made a mental note of his face, as she sat him down. His jaw was rigid, and there were sympathetic lines framing his mouth. His eyes would wrinkle as he tried to smile, but his eyes stared fixedly at Miri and Sam, as the mother and her son faced across him.
'You don't have to explain. I understand your son's predicament. I really do.' Mr Mains said. 'I myself cannot put up with the new laws of our school.. Not just our school, but the same laws that is now governing all the schools within our land.' He continued, 'You do know that if any one of us breaks them, laws under our new government is far more severe. However, you understand this.' Miri nodded her head slowly, but she was curious as to where all this was leading.
'So, you must understand that your son can by no means miss school. Punishment can be severe to you also, Miss Mellow, for being responsible for his absence.'
'Right.' Said Miri.
'I do, however, understand your predicament,' said Mr Mains. 'I am thus willing to record that your son has been attending school on our school's daily register. By no means will I be ready to confess that he hasn't because he is too frightened. Consequences can be severe, and I am by no means willing to risk putting either you or your son through those consequences. Because I am aware that you are breaking the laws of our new government, and I cannot risk putting you through the harsh punishment of doing so, Mrs Mellow. I do not want to raise suspicions against you, Mrs Mellow,' he explained. 'Thus, I will be marking your son as 'attending,' although we are both aware that he isn't.'
'You do not want to raise suspicions against me,' Miri echoed. 'Mr Mains, that is incredibly noble of you. Both me and my son are absolutely indebted to you. The way you are willing to put your career on the line to protect my son is so incredibly noble of you. How can we ever repay you?' Upon that question, Miri went into the kitchen and brought out a basket of her finest green and red coxes apples. Over the handle of the fruit basket there was a pretty bow, and the apples were small, but scrumptious and plentiful.
'Please take a basket full of our finest apples as a gesture of our gratitude, Mr Mains. We are obliged, Mr Mains, and we won't say a word.'
Mr Mains took the basket, and on his way out, he said to Miri:
'We cannot continue living in fear, Mrs Mellow,' and he left.
Miri worked as a journalist for the local Hampshire newspapers, and as a journalist who had worked many years with the Hampshire papers, she sometimes was allowed to shadow journalists who worked for the bigger, broadsheet newspapers. The national papers, for example, the City National. She was also sometimes permitted to contribute an article or two for the City National, but was not a regular columnist. She did, however, have a regular column for the Hampshire newspapers, and she was, primarily, a reporter of petty crime events that occurred within the district city.
Miri always felt that if affairs happened that concerned the State, as a journalist, she would always be the one who would be informed of the information first. Although she was reporter of petty crimes, she was by no means responsible of reporting any bigger conspiracies, or crimes higher up the State. She was, however, all ears, and she would listen carefully in order to keep herself aware. There was also the political news, and although Miri herself was not responsible for those columns, she would always listen carefully for politically sensitive information. The local Hampshire newspapers she worked for so many years also tried to keep the majority of information positive, by talking about gardening, bakery, and lifestyle. Miri was sometimes responsible for the editing of these columns, and she was considered an influential individual at the local Hampshire newspapers Headquarters, and part of that probably owed to the fact that Miri would refuse to think inside the box. She was analytical, and able to absorb information that wasn't particularly secluded to her own publishing.
As an informed journalist, Miri was perhaps one of the few journalists who was already in fear of the new government. It was a new government, because it had only just survived the last two elections. It was absolutely astounding that anyone would suppose to elect a government with principles so repressive and undemocratic. It was, ironically, because of democracy that the winning party was even allowed to take part. But who in the world would be voting for them was always a question on Miri's mind. She wondered how democratic, or how rigged, the last election even was. There were rumours that was brought to her attention that the election was, indeed, rigged, but it wasn't enough to act upon.
To some co-workers within the Hampshire papers, Miri prepossessed a facade of being pro the new government. She would publish the news that was due for publishing, and censor the news that was called to censor. The censored news often included information that made the government looked bad, or undermined them in any way.
For example, it was brought to her attention that ten people were arrested in the city for busking the other day, and over twenty were arrested in district London for homelessness. The government was considering of introducing bans to magazines, including the Big Issue, and if that was forced to become another underground magazine, they would consider introducing bans on those also.
Miri was aware that neither busking nor homelessness could be considered as petty crimes within the principles of the old regime. It was an indication of how bad the new regime actually was, and Miri did not know how she could possibly print out any of this news without demonstrating signs of her own alarm.
Not printing the news appeared to some of her co-workers as if she was not wanting to undermine the new government with the news, and particularly to Mark Wright, who was the Hampshire Papers Sports Editor.
'I hope you're aware, Miri,' Mark Wright reminded, 'That by censoring this news, you are denying us from the truth that takes place within the new regime, and denying us from a free press. People would have liked to know this news, so that we could prevent the new government from getting away with the crimes they're committing against buskers.' But Miri thought not:
'Printing the news would make homelessness and busking appear to be a crime to people,' she argued, 'and this would give the government lee way to take their laws a lot further.'
Mark was not convinced, and believed Miri was protecting the government by censoring this news. Miri was not prepared to share with Mark all the personal baggage she kept secret, and all the reasons why it was she absolutely hated the new regime:
'If the government got any more powerful under this regime, it is you who would be getting the sack for prepossessing those ideas you have against it.'
Although Miri was making a point, Mark interpreted what Miri said differently. He thought Miri was trying to fire him for admitting his convictions against it. He thought Miri was an advocate of it, and although Miri wasn't, she could tell he thought she was:
'If you listen carefully, Mark,' she said, 'you might realise by my points that I am no advocate of it. People could lose their jobs for expressing political opinions such as you just did.' She thought about Mr Mains for refusing to indicate her son's school absence, and even of Dr Raja for issuing her son's sick note. If the government grew any more powerful, their jobs were all in jeopardy, she thought.
Once again Mark misinterpreted Miri, and assumed she said she would fire him for expressing his opinions. He shook his head and whispered:
'Don't tell anyone.'
Later on Miri was informed with news that there were protest groups forming across the streets of Hampshire. However, these protest groups were not just limited to Hampshire's streets, but were forming across the whole of the city. Surely these protest groups were no indication of a fair election. Surely it was up to her to make sure that the newspapers informed the country that it must not have been a fair election. Perhaps using her influence within the local media, she could prevent the government from growing anymore powerful. Maybe she could do so in subtle ways, so that the government will not suspect her. Maybe yet she could do so by pretending she was on their side.
When Miri checked the time she realised it was five minutes past her working hour and it was time to go home. Her house was barely a ten minute drive home, and on a lovely day as it was today, she really should be walking it. Miri contemplated how lazy her job made her. When Miri arrived home, she noticed Sam was not there. She took off her long, black coat and hung it on the coat stand. After taking off her formal, black shoes, she proposed to get a lot more comfortable, and wore her fluffy, black slippers, which was decorated with a single, black button on the top of its fluffy material.
Where was Sam today? She wondered. She went into the kitchen to begin cooking up a meal for the two of them, knowing he would be back later. As she prepared the pots, pans, and ingredients for the meal, Miri remembered Sam's dad who left them. She remembered that she and George were always on-again, off-again. She and George had had Sam while she was just his girlfriend. She never married George, until the divorce with John, her first husband, but she had known George long before she had ever met John. Sam was seven years older than Josy; she had had Sam first.
When George left them, Miri still retained George's surname, and her married title, because they never officially divorced. She always fancied that George would walk back through those doors at any time.
Miri's soup and shepherd's pie was ready when Sam returned:
'Yum!' exclaimed Sam hungry.
'Where were you today?' Asked Miri as they munched on their first few forkfuls.
'I briefly took part in the Hampshire protest groups that were escalating down the city,' he explained.
'That's my boy,' started Miri, but just then, the phone rang.
When Miri picked up the phone, it was the editor of the Hampshire local papers, Ms Pecks. She began explaining something to her:
'It has been brought to our attention, Miri, that you have refused to publish stories that were reviewed by you. Let me remind you. Firstly there was the news about the government's arrest of the homeless, and secondly, you failed to publish news about the protest groups that were forming through this city.'
Miri swallowed, as she assumed she was about to be reprimanded:
'Miri,' Ms Pecks continued, 'Our board have decided that your actions have been admirable. It is clear you were protecting our new state, and reluctant to expose any of its crimes. Your actions indicate to us that you are an advocate of the state.' Miri knew she couldn't be any more wrong, but was not ready to confess.
As Ms Pecks spoke, there was some very harsh clicking coming from the other end of the line, and it was clear that even with the undertones of this formal conversation, intruders were shamefully listening in on them. The clicking got harsher and more violent:
'I'm sorry, I cannot hear you, Ms Pecks,' Miri proclaimed, disturbed.
'I said, I have arranged a meeting between you and the editor of the City National. He wants to talk to you about the admirable reasons you have sought not to publish the news that you rightly assumed would make our regime look bad.'
'Oh, right, ok,' Miri said. When Miri hung up the phone, she let out a large groan. She would be meeting the editor and Head of the City National for all the wrong reasons. Even so, Miri was not willing to drop her facade, because it could put her into trouble with him. She was going to meet him early the next morning, while Sam lounged at home from school, or, perhaps, pursued to join more protest groups.
The very next day, Miri took off her expensive, silk, black night-dress, and changed into a black shirt, underneath a formal black jumper, and contemplated whether to wear her black trousers, or pretty black skirt, alongside her thin, black stretch-tights underneath. After changing a few times, she eventually chose to wear the skirt, and tights. Right before she left the house, she took off her fluffy, buttoned slippers, and wore her heeled, black, formal shoes.
The drive to the City National took a lot longer, because unlike the Hampshire papers, its departments were by no means local. When she arrived at the City National Newspaper Headquarters, the secretary told her to wait outside Mr Lindman's management office, and he would soon be ready to call.
It didn't take long before he was ready to call her in:
'So it's you,' Mr Lindman said, greeting her. He shook her hand, but he made no eye-contact:
'I presume you are the woman who refused to publish the news involving the crimes committed by our state.' Mr Lindman still wouldn't make eye-contact.
'Oh, indeed!' announced Miri, feeling stupid, 'I could never help give it up.' This was a bluff from Miri's part, and it wasn't by any means how she felt, but only declaring what she thought Mr Lindman wanted to hear.
'Well, it's admirable,' Mr Lindman continued. Then he stopped, and poured himself some whisky:
'But you know what I think, Mrs...'
'Mellow,' she informed him.
'You know what I think, Mrs Mellow? he said. 'I think that the reasons you held that information from your local newspapers was in order to prevent this regime from getting any more excessive, and not because you were protecting it.' Miri swallowed, for he had hit the truth.
'And, Mrs Mellow,' he said, 'The truth is what it is about it that I find even more admirable.' She gradually realised that he thought her real reasons for censoring the stories were agreeable, and the ends of her mouth curved into a victorious smile. He had hit the truth, and not only had he hit the truth, but he was still an advocate of her actions:
'Mrs Mellow, I would thus like to let you in on a little secret. As you're aware, I am the head of the City National, and a few other leading newspapers too. I am of high authority within these auspices, and a hugely influential figure both within the media and within broadcasting.' He stopped briefly, and then continued. 'It has been called to my attention, Mrs Mellow, that our country does not like the new regime, and it is not possible that they could have been elected fairly. Thus, I have come to the conclusion that it wasn't elected fairly,' he said.
'Please correct me if I am wrong, Mrs Mellow, but your decision to censor the news items was a protest against this new regime, and you are not an advocate unlike some would assume. Alongside the city's protest groups, there is outright outrage,' he said. Miri was careful not to respond too quickly, just in case it got her into trouble with Mr Lindman, and, momentarily, she did not want to reveal too much too soon.
'Mrs Mellow,' he said, as he stared into her eyes for the first time, 'I am proposing to boycott all our media and broadcasting, until it forces this government to step down. I'm going to make sure that they understand that our media channels are no longer on their side. Without us, they cannot proceed any further. As long as this regime continues, we will refuse to be the means that keeps them in power.'
Miri was absolutely elated. To think that her censoring the news at the local papers would inspire Mr Lindman in this sort of way. A man so very high up the media authority:
'I do not have any objection to that, Mr Lindman,' said Miri pleased.
Two weeks after Miri's confrontation with Mr Lindman, Miri woke up one morning, remembered it was the weekend, and tucked herself comfortably back under the bed covers. She wanted to lounge in bed a little longer, but just then, the doorbell rang. When she answered the door, it was Vincent, the neighbour next door.
'You won't believe this!' Vincent announced, 'There's no television! I went to the local new agents today, and there were no newspapers or magazines. Apparently media and broadcasting are trying to boycott our government!'
Miri was wearing her short-sleeved, black pyjamas, and it was patterned with frills down the sides. She put a hand to her face to stifle a yawn. What she didn't tell Vincent was she was amongst the very first informants of this news:
'Come in, Vincent,' she said as she let him in. They walked into the sitting room, and Miri picked up the remote, and turned on the television, to verify that what Vincent was announcing was true. She turned it on, and true to his word, there was not a single network channel operating. Not even on Sky. No morning programmes, either. Miri was awakening, and realising that this was, indeed, a big deal. How long would the situation go on like this?
Maybe she should contact Mr Lindman. Maybe she had to know.
'You're not looking too surprised, Miri,' Vincent said, observing her astutely.
'No I'm not. I'm just tired,' said Miri.
'Let me get out of your way, then,' said Vincent. 'I only came over here because I wanted to inform you of this.'
'Thank you, Vincent,' said Miri.
Miri wondered how long this was going to go on for. No newspaper, no television. No media, no broadcasting.
'This is really cool!' exclaimed Sam, as he strode downstairs, and waved Vincent outside the door. Miri knew that Sam had no further political information beyond the result he witnessed. He didn't know about Mr Lindman. He didn't know about her own enactment to censor the stories.
Miri picked the telephone up, and closed it. The phone lines was working, she observed. The telephone and the broadcasting networks was not exactly the same thing, she realised. How many more weeks would this go on for? Miri knew she had to be patient.
A couple of weeks later, the problem was over, and the media and broadcasting channels were back on. Miri listened closely to the channel news, and she couldn't believe her ears. It worked! Miri, who had been out of work while the Hampshire newspapers also refused to print. Now it was all back on, and it worked! It couldn't have worked out any more perfectly:
'What happened is when the foreign governments were informed of the news that our country's media stations were being boycotted,' explained Miri to Sam, later on, around the dinner table, 'They realised that our stations were crying out against an outrageous, unpopular government. Thus, those foreign democratic governments helped us replace this unpopular government of ours with someone more democratic. Without the intervention of these foreign governments, we would never have been saved. By boycotting our broadcasting, they realised how urgent the situation was, and the foreign governments strode in to help us.'
'That's fantastic, mum!' said Sam, 'This means it's a new government! This means I could go back to school again!'
'Yes! This means I could get letters from my darling Josy again!'
'Can we go up and see Josy, mum? I'm missing her too,' said Sam.
'Certainly, Sam,' said Miri elated, 'I was thinking we could both travel up and see both her and John next weekend.'