The Leader Awakens (a story)

So yeah, that was me.

Before the junta took over, while things were still in flux, yes, I wrote a few essays, a couple of poems… I was just trying to describe what I saw, and where I thought things were going.

Then I had the brain aneurysm. I went into a coma. For some reason, they chose to keep me alive, even though I was pretty much in a vegetative state. Maybe that was why.

(It was wonderful, by the way. I can’t tell you.)

But then somehow, for some reason, I started to recover. I regained full consciousness about a week ago.

I have been brought up to speed. Somehow, someone built on my meager writings, and managed to use them to construct a wide-ranging social movement.

They have overthrown the junta. They have established a People’s Republic. They have exiled – or executed – almost all of their opposition, all the men who represented the old order.

They also, somehow, managed to misconstrue or misinterpret nearly everything I had said, everything that I do in fact believe.

And now they have no idea what to do next.

Now I hear them, chanting, outside my hospital window.

They expect me to lead them into their bright new future.

They do not yet know that I have nothing to say.

What shall I tell them? How shall I tell them?


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