Scorn: The Plan

I was filthy now, dressed in the common off-white shift of the orphanage. But only given one, all the stains of the past torturing by the others had left it filthy and ragged. The company heads, the army officials that used to tousle my hair and chuck my chin did not know me now.

The orphanage coordinator spoke up. I used to hate her, because she flirted with my Dad. I knew she had a huge crush on him, and always tried to get him alone in her office. But right now I could have hugged her.
“Then we convince them that it should stay. We form a choir or put on a play for the government, let them see how the people respond, support the war efforts. But only after we show them what a loss it would be. We incite a riot, then save the day.”

“That might work,” agreed a suit. He was obviously the most concerned for the public view of the government, as well as himself. He was dressed the best.

“We cannot afford civil war, Gentlemen. But we can afford this.”

I slipped out. I had some thinking to do.

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