The Pen is Mightier than the Bomb

Trembling pens threatened to jump off the table every time the ground quaked. Dust abandoned its long stationed posts on the walls caking the already dirty floors forming tiny burials for the dead bugs long forgotten. Slits of sunlight freshly coming over the eastern mountains reveal particulates of stuffiness filling the basement. Sitting at the end of the five foot high basement is a man–no a woman–at a desk furiously typing. Between pauses of typebars slapping a black ribbon the whole house shakes. Click Clack BOOM another bomb sets off somewhere far too close for comfort.

Wiping the sweat off her forehead, she starts to read the beginning of the letter.

My dear friends to the south, today more than any other is impossible to regard as a mere skirmish. As I look out my window planes raid our lands bombing everything in sight. Buildings collapse, statues crumble, carriages break leaving us no where to stay and no way to leave. Whatever events in the past made you capitulate

Furrowing her brow she crosses out the word “capitulate”. This was no time to be diplomatic, it had to be provocative. She needed a revolution, not a damn protest. Taking a deep breath, she started to read aloud from the last sentence.

Whatever events in the past made you capitulate cower in fear, make no mistake: you’re next. When the pillar falls, and surely it will fall, hundreds of thousands of people will lose their lives due to your inaction. I

Fulminations snapped all around the basement. Immediately the desk was in full disarray, as if it wasn’t already, sending ink straight into the wall dripping onto the floor. A leg on the stool snapped off clean causing her to fall backwards from the typewriter onto the ground. The air was forced out of her lungs as her back took the brunt off the fall leaving her looking at the ceiling. It felt cruel for it to be such a beautiful day. Just looking at the light leaking from the floorboards above it was obvious there were clear skies broken up by smoke.

Nursing a bruised elbow she picked herself up and cursed at all that was wrong. Looking back at the desk, the typewriter sat halfway off of the table. Quickly pushing it back into place, she hurried her hands hoping the words would find purchase.

I Once again I call upon Estimate Under city to do something, anything. Do not let the elite rule this world with an iron fist. You too have suffered such as we suffer now. Whether it be by flood or bombs do not let the waves drown you out. Do not become complacent. Fight back.

Another quake jostled the desk this time causing an unmistakable rend of metal and concrete. This letter needed to be done minutes ago.

Don’t let Vious grind you down. One politician cannot suppress the will of the people. Sincerely, the neighboring City of Steel.

Snapping the letter loose from the typewriter, the woman hastened towards the trapdoor leading out of the basement. One quick push flung the piece of wood off its hinges towards the middle of the room. Apparently it wasn’t much of a trapdoor anymore. Quickly stretching, she grabbed the side of her bedpost and climbed above ground. Through the shattered windows fire danced from one building to the next. Tears welted in her eyes at the unrecognizable site. A daycare, a flower shop, an apartment all in ruins. This neighborhood was no longer recognizable, nor were the bodies. Burn it down, burn it down, the bastards must want no evidence because the bombs aren’t stopping. Why aren’t they stopping?

Pushing on the the front door of her house, she watched as a wooden beam fell to the ground. The whole building was just barely standing as was she.

Slowly the drone of planes approached. Not waiting for their next strike, the woman sprinted in the opposite direction. Debris and fire made it hard to keep up a fast pace. She was only halfway down the street when everything exploded. Vibration after vibration shook the very ground disorienting her. Dust flew up completely distorting any line of site. Looking back and forth, the woman could not recognize which way she had been walking. Taking a leap of faith, she continued forward, or what she believed was forward, attempting to get out of the death trap.

After what seemed like an hour, the bombing stopped and the dust started to settle. She had reached the end of the street. A few more blocks and she would reach the end of the plate. The fourth division was wasted. Judging by the unsettling creaks of breaking concrete, the whole place was about to fall. Sprinting faster, she hurried through back alleys and over fences silently hoping the walls around her would not collapse. It was too late to play it safe. She needed to get out as soon as possible.

She didn’t have time to take in the destruction. Before she knew it, what was left of the outer-ring parks lay before her. Trees and lamp posts that used to stand tall were now in disarray lit up by an unbelievably bright bonfire. The end was in sight. A hang glider was still standing at the very edge of the plate tethered down. Strong winds threatened to release her only form of escape. Suddenly in the distance, the drone started up again. A final wave was sent to finish the job.

Throat raw, legs screaming, eyes barely focused the woman made a break for the hang glider. Smoke ripped apart her lungs as she became lightheaded. Overhead the unhinging of clamps sent chills down her spine causing her to run faster. Any second this city would fall. Just as she made it to the tether the ground started to shake. Her unsteady hands struggled to press down on the carabiner clip. A strong wind swept through the city forcing the hang glider away twisting the rope out of her hands. This was going to be impossible to hold onto.

Bombs started getting closer as she reached for the hang glider. She didn’t have time to pull it in. Giving one good tug, she wrapped the rope around her hand. Immediately the hang glider pulled back crushing her knuckles. Crying out in pain she took one last try unclipping the carabiner. With one last gust of wind the rope briefly gave way and metal squeaked as the tether gave way. Pain shot through her hand again as a gust picked up the hang glider off the edge dragging her along with it.

Wind swept through her hair as both the hang glider and the woman went into a free fall off the fourth division plate. The vibrations of the last bombs could still be felt even without ground underneath her feet. A deep, unsettling crack of concrete silenced the seismic event as part of the fourth division plate started falling towards her.

Panicked, the woman pulled on the rope still crushing her knuckles. She screamed out in pain as she slowly pulled the hang glider closer. The world was spinning and it was impossible to tell which direction was up by the time she grasped the control frame. Somehow she managed to wrap the hang strap around her right leg. She was in control sort of. The world was still spinning but at least the hang glider was moving with her. A small pull with her right leg, a shifting of the basetube forward, and suddenly the wind was resisting. Their chaotic dance in the wind was slowing down. For a brief moment, everything felt okay.

Whipping through the wind, a giant piece of concrete passed only a few meters from their path. Desperate to get out of the way of the deadly debris, the woman slowed her hyperventilating steadying the hang glider some more until they were upright as one unit. Somehow the sail was not damaged in all that mess. Somehow they were still far above the ground. And somehow, this woman was going to land on the surface; somewhere no one in the City of Steel dared to go.