Alistair Raven and the Stormtrooper in Stilettos (Book 1)

Part 1 - Chatter 8

Archie's transistor radio was tuned to a weak signal; tuned to the surreal humour of Radio Free Europe's zaniest ever DJ, Morrie Cole. Alistair listened but just didn't get it, unlike Archie, who would emit gravelly guffaws and shake his head in amusement at another innuendo ridden, ribald gag ridiculing the state of New Britain.

"That's brilliant," Archie muttered but Alistair had his mind on other things. He conspired to retrieve the tin box and undertake to crack the code. Sifting through a number of tubs of tech 'n' mech, he sorted the components whilst Archie fiddled with a line of identical units, re-wiring the transmitters. Trade in his illegal comms had been steady and the extra money supplemented the sustenance provided by the greenhouse and paid for luxuries like soap, matches, boot polish, brown sugar and the occasional bottle of proper Scotch whiskey.

Smoke curled from Archie's lips and he squinted. Splicing together wires, at the same time, he sermonised Alistair with his weekly lecture about the great people of history. Archie's particular liking was for those who had made a difference via passive resistance; or those with a true moral compass.

"Slavery, oppression, discrimination...men and women have sacrificed through the ages to topple tyrants and help others live good lives," Archie said. "The great American President Randall Heffernan Jr. orated at his End of Office speech that 'every person should look in their heart and do what is right to preserve freedom, liberty and justice for all and to protect the vulnerable'. He pitied those who subjugated or took advantage of others only to enrich their own lives whilst diminishing others."

"Heff was not without fault or frailties," Archie agreed, "But he did the right thing, often at great personal cost. That is something very much worth considering Alistair."

"Are you listening to me boy?" Archie asked and Alistair looked up and nodded, having heard this lecture every Saturday for as long as he could remember. Alistair could parrot each word but wanted more to ask his grandfather about the tin box but knew if he did, Archie would know he'd been snooping; Alistair remained mum.

"The Suffragettes pitted themselves against the patriarchal attitudes just to get women the vote," Archie sighed. "Chartists did the same for the common man. Plenty of brutal persecution and blood, sweat and tears were spilled on the path to win our undeniable right to self-determination and democracy. Then we let mongrels deliver a system of New-democracy where no one gets a say. And the greatest tragedy in having this all ripped away? No one seems to even care."

Alistair nodded, pretending to agree.

"Don't ever fool yourself. What we have now is the price you pay to look the other way."

"It's not like you can talk back," Alistair suggested.

There was silence; a very cold, empty silence. Archie tipped ash into a bowl and looked at his grandson, resigned to the fact a lecture on kicking against the prigs would do him more harm than good. He tried another tangent.