By Carl Kjellberg

I sat in the gathering darkness for what had seemed an interminable time reflecting on the train of events that had brought the situation to a head. Paul and I first became friends over our shared love of poetry. He was into Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and I was into Dylan Thomas. Paul was a hacker and a history buff, and I was a peace activist. Really though, we were just a couple of nerds in search of a cause. As I stared out into the darkness, I remembered the first time Paul shared his theory with me.

“The war of independence, the American civil war and the second world war — all roughly eighty years apart.” He said, stabbing his finger at the timeline on a chart laid out before him.

I frowned.

“Can’t you see?” he continued.  “Just like the seasons, history has a regular repeating pattern. Now, here we are, nearly eighty years on from the second world war and conflict is inevitable!”

I was not sure I agreed. But, barely a month later, as troops swarmed into Chicago crushing all opposition to the government, I knew I had to do something. There were rumours spread online that said Boston would be next. When Paul heard chatter on the dark web that marines had been spotted boarding landing craft in Jacksonville, we both agreed we needed to keep watch on the harbour entrance. And so it was, on a bitterly cold night, the two of us sat together on a hill overlooking the Boston harbour staring out into the night.

Just after midnight, Paul spotted something moving near to the horizon. I pulled a pair of binoculars from my backpack and trained it onto the object. As I pulled the image into focus, I saw the unmistakable outline of many landing craft heading toward the harbour. Paul switched on his laptop, typed frantically then hit the send to all icon. Moments later the internet went dead. The revolution had begun.

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