Politics
Cold Beer and Hot Politics. Chapter 7.
As London's sullen skies unleashed spring's first rain, so too descended resignation upon John's sagging shoulders. His solitary crusade to resurrect radical dissent had stalled, impotent pamphlets reduced to street litter rather than kindling for revolution. No swelling crowds issued outraged choruses for economic justice or political accountability. Anaesthetised by distractions and indulgences, the proletariat slumbered on, impervious to John's strident wake-up calls.
By Tanya Doolin2 years ago in Chapters
Cold Beer and Hot Politics. Chapter 6.
The weeks following John's passionate speech at Speaker's Corner crept by in agonising inertia. No righteous comrades emerged to join his crusade, no groundswell of dissent stirred even a tremor of outrage. His provocations were met largely by public apathy or dismissal, save the occasional phone call from an old university friend expressing concern over John's tilt at windmills.
By Tanya Doolin2 years ago in Chapters
Short Reads
Dear Vocal readers, What follows is a short compendium of my works that are four minutes or less for your reading pleasure. For all those times that you want to read something, but are short on time. Please be sure to check back, as the list grows. And thank you for following me on this journey.
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Chapters
I, Willhelm
It had been five years since the RBH incident, and most of the original robots that had been gifted to various parliamentary figures were just shy of their 7th year. While their exterior was often upgraded to appear more fashionable, their interior mechanics and memory remained the same. It was around this time that an MP with the pretentious name of Julian Modestus Remson experienced an incident with his robot.
By Klaire de Lys2 years ago in Chapters
Cold Beer and Hot Politics. Chapter 5.
Predawn light seeped into John's flat as he bustled about the kitchen, fortifying himself with robust tea and toasted crumpets for the labours ahead. Donning faded plaid robes and slippers, he extracted the dusty mimeograph machine from its long confinement beneath the bathroom sink. As he meticulously cleaned and adjusted the gears and rollers, John's pulse quickened in anticipation of producing the first subversive literature from its sputtering duplication drums in decades.
By Tanya Doolin2 years ago in Chapters
Cold Beer and Hot Politics. Chapter 4.
Sunlight shone through grimy windows, rousing John from slumber. His mind felt unusually clear this morning, vestiges of revelry at the fête still humming through his veins. Throwing back the duvet, John rose with vigour he had not known for years.
By Tanya Doolin2 years ago in Chapters
Cold Beer and Hot Politics. Chapter 3.
John was roused from his usual Nytol-induced stupor by the ringing of the bedside telephone. Blearily he lifted the receiver, surprised to hear his old mate Eddie chatting enthusiastically on the other end. There was to be a village fête in Elvington that weekend, their childhood home. Eddie insisted John join him there to reminisce about the good old days over a few pints. After a moment's hesitation, John agreed.
By Tanya Doolin2 years ago in Chapters
