Passing a ship is common on the high seas. Every ship hoists her flag as a matter of maritime law, and when it doesn’t, it is a matter of life and death. Your ship either exchanges news, goods, mail, or cannonballs. Such is the necessity of men upon the sea. No ship passes unnoticed. The ship we remember out of thousands is therefore never normal, and always out of place. There’s a reason the memory never leaves us, not of ships, but men who control a small keel. It is the men, capable of good and evil that ignites the memory; a complete stranger who you needed, or needed you, that you have not forgotten.
Stealing from the people was never so easy. Since WWII the Great Republic had been creating currency. Superpowers like Britain, France, and Germany had tried to devalue money and failed. They failed because they had a secondary currency, and a secondary global economy. The Republic was the premier currency; the premier economy, and the elected did as they pleased. The people and politicians got used to inflation saying, “Why should we care; why worry? Headlong! All will be well.”
Winston lay weeping like so many times before. The toddler loved the woods so much his passion got ahead of him: he was alone. He looked this way and that - craving the sight of the mother he just left, and wept face down in the leaves. In the never-ending forest, nothing else mattered but mommy. Not the sunlight beaming upon his face, not the perfect October afternoon, not even the brilliant color fall held around the curled little boy. He shook, a helpless baby sobbing in a wild, foreign world. Yet, the pitiful sound was carried by the breeze, and heard by the most unlikely creature imaginable.