Once MARGA seized Edinburgh, it was hard to hide. With one security camera for every ten people, he’d taken to going out at night. He’d slip down the dodgy alley between his flat and the Tesco, waiting for a lull before sneaking in.
He’d kept quiet when they cleared the city of immigrants. And when they passed the Decency Laws he’d only gone to a handful of resistance meetings before getting nervous. But now, with Enforcers cracking down on Conformance Laws, he had to get out. Thanks to FaceRead, his political leanings were as clear as the tilt of his jaw.
Tomorrow he was heading to the harbor and cutting ties on the most seaworthy skiff he could find.
He’d heard of a place—a lost island, free of MARGA—with more sheep than people. The North Atlantic in January was dangerous. But it was safer than staying here.
I’m a little late to the party this week. Yesterday was one of those days where it was just plain hard to get motivated!
Anyway, to anyone who was interested in Ladane’s take on What Pegman Saw in Tehran, you can read her own story and thanks to the contributors.
My story this week was inspired by the rugged, remote beauty of the Faroe Islands and this little article in the Guardian which got my wheels spinning:
Thanks for reading!