Hatred (Collpase, #1)

Chapter One – 23 years and 11 months before the collapse-2

Jim wore his uniform and as he entered the university, a student came running up to him asking if he was from the Independence Council.

“No, why?”

“They banned the event an hour ago,” explained the student. “They thought it was a counter independence gathering. The Army was preventing people from entering the building.”

Jim looked around; he couldn’t see evidence of any military.

“Twenty minutes ago they lifted the order after we phoned and told them they had made a mistake,” the student explained.

This made sense to Jim. Sam Patel had explained to him that the university chancellor had to step down after a dispute with the Independence Council about flying the independence flag on the university building. This was the Council’s way of making a point.

Jim took his place in the lecture theatre, enjoying the comfy seat while he waited for proceedings to begin.

Sam Patel gave a talk on the poetry of Danny O’Toole which seemed apt given the independence mood surrounding everything. There were only a handful of students and teachers there.

“Welcome back,” said Patel, as he greeted Jim after the lecture. “Don’t worry about numbers. Most watch online these days.”

“Good to see you,” said Jim. “How are things?”

“Tensions are very high, Jim. It feels like the entire country could erupt in civil war at any moment.”

“It already has, hasn’t it? It couldn’t get much worse, could it?”

“Depends who you speak to. These Shorters are causing chaos on the stock exchange. They’re blackmailing the pension funds. How’s Annabel?”

“Practicing the piano, she has exams coming.”

“And how are you?”

“I’m eager to get back to teaching.”

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. Jim, do you want to know what’s going on?”

“Of course.”

“There’s a meeting tonight in a pub near the river. Let’s go, we can catch the end.”

When they entered the pub, the first thing Jim saw was an enormous portrait of the King on one wall. The next thing he saw was that at least 200 people packed the pub.

A large middle-aged man got up on a stage which occupied a whole end of the room. When he called the room to order, everyone fell silent at once. Jim was amazed at how polite the gathering was.

“We are the small people, the poor, the bottom of the heap, the abandoned,” the man spoke with calm, deliberately formed sentences. “We don’t have an Oxbridge education like those who caused this so-called independence. Independence does not help us. It helps the rich, the politicians, the bankers, the arms manufacturers.”

He paused and looked at the enormous portrait of the King.

“They stole our data and turned us against each other, getting us to follow fake causes, made up marches, put-up protests. They say if you want to remould society, break it. Well, they broke our society and are trying to remould it how they want. We must stop them. The payment strikes are good, but they are not enough.”

Jim observed the room. The gathering was attentive and passive.

“This poor excuse for a government has betrayed us,” the man carried on. “They are just as hostile to us and have demonised us for decades. The media are owned by a few in-league with the rich and their puppets. They say we have freedom of speech, they say we have a free press but we are not free. They feed us lies, making us believe things that are not true. The rich will make up the majority in the planned Assembly. We will be in the minority there and have just as little influence there as we do in the media. There is no declaration of human rights that can help us, at least not for the time being. We must stop the creation of the Assembly, take the media into our own hands and only our hands. We must hold the power so we can get what they have denied us.”

The man paused and surveyed the room, satisfying himself that his message was being absorbed. The audience was nodding and applauding with conviction.

“We can only achieve this by force,” he continued. “Why shouldn’t we use force? The rich have spilt so much blood, why shouldn’t a little flow for our cause?”

Shouting now accompanied the nodding and clapping. A second man got onto the platform and delivered an almost identical speech to the first.

“Waste of time,” Jim commented to Sam Patel as they left.

“Do you not sympathise with them?”

“Not at all, he’s just bitter at being banned from social media. I hope the government can keep them in check without bloodshed. But if they cannot avoid violence, I hope they still follow through on the election of the Assembly.”

“You don’t think it’s worrying that the DMU[2] can turn off anyone’s account whenever they want?” Sam asked. “Independence has come at an unfortunate time, in the wake of the strikes and all the troubles.”

“It’s selective, don’t you think? They haven’t suspended Robert’s account.”

“He’s not a politician.”

“No, but his tweets incite abusive messages aimed towards those he doesn’t like and all this talk about ‘reclamation of British value’.” said Jim. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he starts his own party.”

“He’s a TV host, and he’d never form a government. Besides, he’s still young.”

“I hope not, but he is a very popular TV host, and he treats anyone with a different opinion like an enemy.”

“Most of the politicians do that now anyway, and did you know, there have been rumours of people going missing.”

“Really?” Jim was surprised and yet, at the same time, not surprised. He ground his favourite axe. “I still think the freedom and democracy these people are speaking of can only reach everyone if we abolish the monarchy. This country has never had a written constitution, and it should have one. I don’t see why parliament shouldn’t be accountable to an elected upper house rather than a monarch.”

“You think they can’t achieve what they want?”

“I sympathise with these people’s love of their monarchy,” Jim said. “But they will not dig us out of this mess that they got us into in the first place when they left Europe, and all so they could keep their dirty tax avoidance schemes. GDP down 5%, car production down a third. Aerospace, automotive, chemicals, food and drink and pharmaceutical industries ceased to be competitive, and the Government permitted foreign companies to buy out the ailing companies and most have now moved production elsewhere.”

“Someone’s been doing some research.”

“They call themselves patriots, Sam, but they’re not even nationalists.”

“What’s the difference?”

“John le Carré once said that for nationalism, you need enemies. That’s what Roberts would give them if he could.”

“You don’t think he’s just a reaction to the tyranny of the cancel culture?”

“Neither side listens to the other, there’s too much hatred, I think that’s the problem. And since the BBC lost its charter, there’s no impartiality in the media either.”

“Was there before? Ah, here’s your stop.”

At the tram stop, Jim said goodbye to Sam Patel, who went on his way. When the tram arrived it was already full but two soldiers helped pull Jim up and he felt like a sardine as the tram rattled away.

“We are suffering this independence because of our sins,” an old man continued an argument that had begun long before the tram arrived at Jim’s stop. “The country is overpopulated. Someone should arrange a proper scheme of assisted emigration like they had in the 60s. It would do good to get rid of some people.”

“I love independence,” laughed a boyish man whom Jim noticed was wearing the independence armband. “I am touring the country to see where it is progressing best, and I get a free ride wherever I go. There is always an independence council willing to charge my food app or give me a place to stay.”

As he alighted from the tram in the centre, Jim noticed they had decorated every building with blue and white flags of Alba with a smattering of union jacks, and there were one or two Edinburgh flags with their three towered castles. Jim had marvelled at the idea that Alba had not even completed its independence from the Union, and Bernican separatists were already suggesting another regional assembly.

The only flag missing was the European flag. He wondered whether the flags were a sign of joy for independence or for something else. Despite the previous year’s revolution, Spain was still threatening to block a devolved Alba’s entry into the EU.

He noticed posters pasted on the walls declaring that security forces would use firearms without leniency against anyone disturbing the peace ‘regardless of political persuasion’. Other posters warned the population to use petrol in moderation.

The square was full of people reading posters and gathered around flip phones. There were groups of people debating, the people in the centre listening, those on the outside craning to listen.

Jim wondered whether the crowd signalled the imminent arrival of another strike, or worse, a riot. For the moment, the people just seemed excited and amused. It was almost as if they had created a political carnival for their amusement.

The streets were also full of soldiers, but Jim perceived they were also there for the show rather than an attempt at preserving law and order. No-one asked to see his ID app, and it didn’t look like they wanted to enforce the ban on protests.

Jim realised there were Europeans in the square that were being treated with respect. The struggle with Europe was over and the Scottish people held no animosity against their people, only against their governments who had thrust their country into such an unreasonable divorce settlement, and their own government that had let it happen.