> Can't stay at home, can't stay in school
>
> Old folks say, "You poor little fool"
>
> Down the streets, I'm the girl next dooral
>
> I'm the fox you've been waiting for.
-Pre-Antithesis Hu-Gen Punk Ballad
***
San Francisco, California. 2026.
The dossier makes a distinctive shlack sound as it hits the top of my inbox tray. I turn to the folder wielding interloper, and throw him an indignant glare.
I mean, come on, seriously. It's the 20s. The era of digital. Why- genuinely why- does my boss insist on delivering every document to me as actual, physical paper, in this day and age?
I know one of the reasons; he thinks it makes him look sophisticated and genteel. Mayor Melon Usk practically radiates his need for everyone to think he’s a distinguished aristocrat. The other reason, I merely suspect: judging by that gleaming smirk, he takes some deep-seated joy in tormenting me with this.
“My deepest apologies, my dear, but Olivia received another public works issue, so I thought I’d drop it off for you on our way out. Some kind of a contract dispute between CalSTA and VanRail- you know, the transport start-up? Vanguard Joyride’s little venture? I had lunch with him last month, and I have to tell you, what a visionary that man is. We’re lucky to have him- although of course, make sure you handle the whole thing judiciously.”
Translation: You know which of them is paying me. Bias accordingly. I nod, stiffly. I know what my job is, dude- I just hate it.
“Excellent! Have our office’s official mediated position on Olivia’s desk by tomorrow morning, please, there’s a doll. As for our main concern today…” He gives me one of those luminous grins he probably thinks is disarming. I stifle the urge to punch him, reminding myself of the bodyguard at each of his shoulders. Hell, that’s probably what they’re there for- there’s no way he gets through a day un-punched, otherwise.
I realise the Mayor is still talking, having missed- or ignored- my fantasising. I give him a sharp nod to show that I’ve definitely been listening. He seems pleased, so that was either the right response, or I just agreed to something I’m going to regret.
“Oh, I’m so glad. I can’t wait to hear what you think! Men in my sort of position always need to keep in mind the voice of common folk, don’t you think?”
Bodyguards, Jet, bodyguards. Fuck you too, you nouveau riche fuck. I try to keep a straight face anyway- a task made harder by the wry smirk I catch off the brawny lady behind him.
I nod at him until he finally leaves, letting me get on with the work I’m meant to be doing for him. First, though- I throw an inquisitive, plea-filled glance over at Hannah, the Mayor’s other assistant, and my designated Work Friend.
“The broadcast,” she whispers to me, “this afternoon, Jet. The Mayor’s public address. He wanted you to watch it.”
She falls silent as Olivia walks by; Usk’s executive assistant. She’s a frosty, imperious woman, and she doesn’t like to find us ‘distracted’. She’s the Mayor’s devoted right hand, and the office pool has even odds on if they’re screwing, or if the jack-booted zeal is just some kind of power kink thing.
I return to staring blankly at the pages in front of me, processing that whole can of worms. Of course, the address- I have some idea of what it’s going to be concerning, and I’m not excited to see it play out.
Still, orders from my boss are orders, so after lunch I set up a spare monitor with Hannah’s help, and the two of us keep one eye on it as we work. We’d tuned it to the news- not Fox National, of course, none of us would bother with state media. No, this was some minor Californian station.
A little past three, and the reporters have finally finished jacking each other off, or whatever- now it’s our Mayor’s turn. I will give Melon Usk this: through a small plasma screen, the dazzling grin he plasters on as he dashes on stage almost looks charming. It's far more… Slimy, in person.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
"Hello, all! It's a genuine pleasure to be talking to you all today. As mayor of San Francisco, I've made it a core pillar of my administration to keep the public informed regarding the issues facing the State, and our fair city in turn.
“I will be frank with you all: those issues, right now, are numerous. During the incursion that hit Sacramento last year, we experienced the tragic loss of the majority of our state government; it has, in large part, been up to the Mayors of each city to step up, and we have done our best to rise to the occasion- with the assistance of some of Silicon Valley's finest, of course. And who could forget the Vanguard, those brave souls who champion us on the battlefield, as well as the boardroom?
“Still, despite the noble fashion in which the people of our great State have stepped up to the task at hand, our critics in the federal government are not satisfied! No, they insist to us that it is them who must take charge- who must establish our new state government for us. Why, if we don't, some disaster might befall us!
“I ask you: where were these dynamic souls, when good men and women died at the hands of the Antithesis menace? Where was the National Guard; the Army? Not here, I will tell you! No! It was the brave folks of the California State Guard who held the horde back, until Vanguard- like our own Joyride, and Ursus Californicus- could put an end to the hive! With some assistance from Three Swipes, of course."
He coughed. It was something of an open secret that Three Swipes had done more than assisted. Ursus, for example, had only been Vanguard for three days at that point- of the dozen or so 'Samurai' on the scene that day, only one had anywhere near the firepower needed to single-handedly burn that hive down. No, the assistance was absolutely the other way around, but- we had our pride.
“So, I have to ask you: why should we put our trust in the central government? Why, I know that I do not need to inform you of the Floridian in our highest office,” he spits the word like it’s an insult, “nor how he has perverted our countries’ institutions in pursuit of his own, autocratic, goals.
“Nor do I need say more, I am sure, of how his Black-Shirt vileness has affected our fair state- nor of the many restrictions he has tethered us with, for opposing him. And of course, that’s to say nothing of the taxes and levies he has placed on our dutiful industrialists.
“You all know of my corporate rise. Of course, while I divorced myself from my previous business interests once I assumed my current office,” there’s polite chuckles from the assembled crowd, and Mayor Usk has the sense to look playfully shame-faced at that claim.
“I nevertheless have many friends who keep me informed. As far as they are concerned, our government has condemned us to stagnation, and a financial recession within the next five years.
“So, I have to ask: why, exactly, are we still listening to them? It’s a question you good citizens have demanded of me yourselves at every event I have attended these past few months. Tonight, I come back to you with a firm answer: we should not.”
Even through the tv screen, I can see the way the crowd stills; there’s a marked difference between complaining about the government, and what Mayor Usk seems to be suggesting.
If I can see it, Usk himself definitely senses the change in the air; he holds his hands up, placatingly.
“Please, friends, be calm. I am not trying to make any form of unilateral move- I am just your Mayor, after all! But, I have engaged in ongoing dialogue with the other representatives of our government: the Mayors of Los Angeles, San Diego, and San Jose; the survivors of our State government in Sacramento; our loyal protectors, the Californian Vanguards; and of course, business luminaries in Silicon Valley, and elsewhere.
“Between us, we have come to the conclusion that the status quo is untenable. As the Declaration states so elegantly: ‘whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of the consent of the governed, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it.’ In that view, we regard it as our patriotic duty, to reach out, and solicit the judgement of the public. We plan to hold a referendum in the coming weeks, with a simple choice. One: to submit to the Federal Government, and allow them to form our new government for us- hand them the keys to the castle, as it were.
“Or… Two. Attempt, peacefully, to separate ourselves from the United States of America.”
The audience, predictably, explodes. Shouts of anger mix with cries of excitement, and I sit back while my mind whirls.
I knew, of course, a little of what was coming. As an assistant to his office, I organise a fair chunk of the paperwork relating to his various agendas as Mayor. But something of this scale…
On the one hand, I don’t dislike the concept of an independent California. The current President of the United States had risen to power on a wave of terrified animosity, all thanks to the arrival of the Antithesis. While the incumbent Democrat could not, in fairness, have anticipated an Alien invasion would be one of the priorities of his administration, there nevertheless was a widespread impression that all of this was somehow his fault. And onto that grease fire, his opponent in Florida had poured gasoline, with an aggressive, jingoistic campaign- one that blamed the disaster on all things other.
So, no, I wasn’t a particular fan. On the other hand, that speech… It wasn’t exactly subtle about the corporate interests backing this move. Knowing Melon Usk as well as I do, I would be very surprised if this wasn’t being treated as a perfect opportunity for the largest companies to push large-scale deregulation on their own little slice of America. That was likely going to be… Just as bad.
I mull it over for myself, before coming to a firm verdict: Either way. We’re fucked.