The Revolution Of Our Youth (The End of Dystopia)

Maram and her friends were shopping when they saw from behind the Mall's glass windows the protestors on the street chainiting against the police brutality.

Sally:"Ugh, these protestors are so annoying.

They're here every week now! It's ridiculous. They're ruining the economy. I heard the shop owners around here have lost so much money because of them."

Fadia :"It's not their fault, Sally. The government just won't listen. They wouldn't have to make such a mess if the police weren't so heavy-handed."

Sally :"The police are just doing their job! My dad's a sheriff, you know. They have to keep order."

Maram:"But from what I've heard, they're being way too cruel. I've heard stories about them hitting people, even when they're not being violent. That's not 'keeping order,' that's abuse."

Sally:"Those are just rumors. The protestors are probably exaggerating."

Maram:"Maybe some are, but where there's smoke, there's fire. People are desperate. They feel like they have no other way to be heard. If the government actually listened and addressed their concerns, they wouldn't have to resort to these protests every week."

Sally:"Yeah, well, they're still annoying."

__________

Maher muttered, adjusting his riot gear.

"Ugh, not this again, Another protest."

Sam clapped him on the shoulder, a grin spreading across his face.

"Ready for some action, Maher?"

Maher :"Honestly, Sam, I wish we didn't have to do this. I hate it, I'd rather be a traffic officer for the rest of my life than to do this for even a minute."

Sam:"Are you Being gentle again?Look, Maher, you gotta toughen up. These protestors aren't playing nice. They're disruptive, they're loud, and they're breaking the law."

Maher:"But most of them are just... desperate, They're scared, they're angry. We don't have to escalate things. We can try talking to them, de-escalating the situation."

Sam:"Talking? You think talking is going to do anything? They need to learn that there are consequences for their actions. Mind your own business, Maher, and act like a police officer for once."

Maher :"And what does that mean, Sam? Beating people? Hurting them? Is that what being a 'police officer' means to you? Our job is to protect people, Sam, not the opposite."

Sam:"Our job is to maintain order, Maher. To enforce the law. And sometimes, that means getting our hands dirty. If we get the order, I won't hesitate."

Maher shook his head.

"I just... I don't understand how you can be so okay with this."

"It's not about being 'okay' with it, It's about doing our job. It's about upholding the law. If we don't, who will?"

The police line formed, shields glinting in the afternoon sun. Maher stepped forward, his voice amplified by a megaphone.

Maher:"Listen, everyone, We don't want anyone to get hurt. We understand you're passionate about your cause, but this demonstration isn't authorized. We need you to wrap things up and disperse."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. A young woman with a megaphone of her own stepped forward.

"Unauthorized? You mean like your brutality? That's why we're here! You think we care about your permission slips after what you've done? We're not going anywhere until you stop hurting people!"

Maher :"We're just trying to do our job. If you cooperate, we can all go home peacefully. If you don't, we'll have to ...we'll have to end it ourselves."

The crowd erupted in shouts and chants.

"End it? You mean like you did last time? With batons and tear gas? We're not afraid of you!" a man yelled. "Your brutality is just fueling the fire!"

Maher looked back at Sam, a silent plea in his eyes. Sam just shrugged, his face hard. He gave a curt nod to the other officers, and they raised their batons.

"Alright, that's enough," Sam yelled, his voice cutting through the noise.

Sam:"Disperse now, or we will use force!"

The protestors stood their ground. They were more numerous than Maher had anticipated. They linked arms, chanting slogans, their faces determined.

Sam didn't hesitate. He gave the order, and the police line surged forward. Batons swung, shields clashed. But this time, something was different. The sheer number of protestors overwhelmed the police. They pushed back, refusing to yield. The police officers were forced to retreat slightly, regrouping.

The scene descended into chaos. Maher watched, his stomach churning, as his colleagues wrestled with protestors, some of whom were clearly injured. He saw Sam, his face flushed with anger, pushing his way through the crowd.

The standoff continued for hours. The protestors, emboldened by their numbers, held their ground. The police, despite their attempts, couldn't break through. As darkness fell, the situation remained tense, a stalemate between the frustrated authorities and the defiant crowd. Maher knew this was far from over.

___________

Hasan groaned, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Ugh, I swear, Jude, I haven't seen my bed in days,I'm so exhausted, I'm starting to hallucinate."

Nurse Jude sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Tell me about it. I feel like I'm running on fumes. I desperately need some sleep."

Hasan:"Seriously, I'm seeing things. I think I'm starting to see ghosts."

Jude gave him a dry look.

"Ha. Very funny, Hasan. Trying to lighten the mood?"

Hasan:"I'm not kidding! I'm seeing the ghosts of dead people. It's creepy."

Jude raised an eyebrow.

"Ghosts? You actually believe in ghosts?"

Hasan:"I didn't, But the other day, I was down in the basement looking for needles, and I swear I saw Mr. Baha'."

Jude's face paled slightly.

"Mr. Baha'? You mean the old man who died last week? The heart attack?"

Hasan nodded grimly.

"Yeah. He was just... standing there. Pale as a sheet."

"Wow," Jude said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "That's... unsettling."

"I know, right?" Hasan whispered. "And I'm worried he might be out for revenge."

"Revenge?" Jude asked, confused. "Why would Mr. Baha' want revenge?"

Hasan:"Well... it's a long story. But I think... I think he might have had the heart attack because of a joke I told him during my shift."

Jude stared at him. "A joke? You think a joke gave him a heart attack?"

Hasan:"It was a pretty bad joke. And he did look kind of... stressed after I told it. Maybe it pushed him over the edge? Now I'm worried his ghost is going to come back for me."

"A joke?" Jude repeated, incredulous. He was about to say more when another nurse, Sarah, rushed towards them, her face etched with urgency.

Sarah:"Hasan! Jude! We need you both, now! The situation is critical. We have multiple urgent surgeries about to unfold, and the doctors have requested all available nurses to report to duty immediately."

Hasan and Jude exchanged a look. Hasan's ghost story and his fear of Mr. Baha's revenge seemed to shrink in the face of the immediate crisis.

Jude asked, his professional demeanor kicking in.

"What's going on?"

Sarah:"Mass casualty incident. Two trains crushed into each other. We're expecting a flood of patients within the next hour. They need everyone on deck, and I mean everyone."

Hasan:"Right. Let's go."

Hasan and jude immediately went to help a sense of grim determination replacing their earlier anxiety. Yes

Hasan glanced back at the basement door nervously, but the urgency of the situation pushed his fear to the back of his mind.

Jude, already moving towards the operating theater, threw a quick, reassuring look at Hasan.

Jude:"Don't worry about Mr. Baha', We've got more pressing matters to attend to."

Jude sighed, stretching his aching back as they walked out of the hospital doors

"Finally! 72 hours. I swear, Hasan, at this rate, we'll be lucky to see forty."

Hasan retorted, though a weary smile touched his lip.

"Speak for yourself.I'm going to live at least eighty years, just like my grandma. She told me the secret to her health, and I'm following her diet."

Jude "Oh yeah? What's the secret? Eating only kale and bean sprouts?"

"Something like that," Hasan said vaguely, not wanting to divulge his grandma's rather peculiar dietary habits.

A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment before Jude spoke again, his tone more thoughtful.

Jude :"You ever wonder, Hasan... what could have been? If we'd actually had a choice about our futures, about our jobs... would our lives be this... miserable?"

Hasan:"Miserable? I wouldn't call my life miserable, Jude. Sure, it's tough, and yeah, sometimes I feel like I'm running on fumes. But I'm happy I'm able to help people. Someone has to do it, right?"

Jude kicked a stray pebble down the street. "I always wanted to be a writer," he confessed quietly.

"But... well, you remember. Free writing was banned when we were kids. Only the censored stuff was allowed. And, I ended up being assigned to nursing. It felt... hopeless from the beginning, so I never even tried."

Hasan:"Yeah I remember, That's rough, Jude."

Jude :"Yeah, well. It is what it is. Just makes you think sometimes, you know? What if..." He trailed off.