WoWFest in Liverpool runs writing competitions of several kinds, one of which is the ‘flash fiction‘ – a 500-word story on this year’s theme. The theme for 2017 is Revolution.

Here is my entry, Revolution!

‘What does this mean?’

The People’s Evaluator for Merseyside pointed at the strange two-humped plastic device that projected from the wall on two supports. The label read ’Solid of Revolution of the Light-curve of a Nuclear Explosion’. Underneath was the artist’s name – Erika Fernandez. The PE’s nose wrinkled in distaste. German first name, Spanish surname. He was suspicious too of the word ‘Revolution’. Some had called the rise of Greater Britain a revolution. They were wrong. It was a reimposition of natural law under His Majesty, no more, no less. The Director answered him:

‘Well, the light-curve of a nuclear explosion has a characteristic two-humped graph and if this is rotated around the x-axis, one gets a shape like this. Erika saw it as a metaphor…’ He got no further. Metaphor was not a welcome word.

‘Is it of use to the people of Greater Britain?’ The PE inclined his head to one side and the uniformed guards stiffened as they recognised the tone in his voice. They weighed the slight stature of the Director against the thickness of their muscles and the weight of the butts of the rifles they carried. This would not take long.

‘We have spent over twenty minutes in your…’ (The PE paused and the guards tensed) ‘…institute’. He managed to convey a considerable amount of disgust with the term.

‘We have yet to find anything useful.’

The Director readied himself for a defence but thought better of it.

’This is not The People’s Art. The People’s Art is uncomplicated. The People’s Art is inspirational. This is the corrupted art of the liberal elite. Those that sneer at the aspirations of the People.’

The guards relaxed a little. They had heard this several times. It would take a little while before they were needed.

‘Correct Art informs the People of the Truths which are self-evident.’

‘That which is not self-evident cannot be understood.’

‘That which cannot be understood cannot be tolerated.’

‘That which cannot tolerated will not be tolerated.’

‘Mr Director, your institute is hereby closed. The reassignment committee will decide a better use for the building. I cannot see a similar useful purpose being determined for yourself.’

With that he turned to the guards. They readied themselves.

The Director seized the Solid of Revolution and brought it down with all his strength on the head of the People’s Evaluator. The first curve corresponded to the flash heating by radiation of the air around the bomb and this knocked the uniform cap from the PE’s head and scraped a small gash on his close-cropped head.

The second, larger curve corresponded to the explosion proper and this crashed through the skull of the PE, splashing grey matter and blood over the smartly pressed uniform jacket. The People’s Evaluator fell to the ground.

The Director dropped the plastic club as the rifle butts caught him and he went down as they continued to smash against his elitist liberal skull.

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