2020 Chap.3 by Jo Celine

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Doctor Weaver has become someone I know now. We met in a kitchen, but I had heard his name mentioned many times before. Instead of having to wander around town searching for food and water, he has sort of amalgamated things. He has posted all kinds of lists and schedules on the windows. There are want-ads, mainly for pharmaceuticals, medicine, clothing and tools. There are pictures of every type of person you could imagine with names on them and captions like ' have you seen?' or 'I'm safe and usually around Counter Street and Brisbane'. The store windows for blocks are rendered opaque with the density of such copy. Generally there is improvement, less grief, the danger of immediate starvation is over but now they are starting to ration the water.

I have been up all night and so has everyone around me. We awoke to the sounds of shattering glass, then shouts. By the time I managed to get past the human crush and go downstairs they were gone. The window is covered with a plastic tarp now. Every day there are more broken windows everywhere, and there are more people who are injured and robbed of even their very clothes.

Every day now revolves around meetings, I have never seen so many useless meetings. We meet to assign duties, everything form waste management to sentry duty is discussed. The first night after the attempted looting there was a tendency for some of the dwellers to arm themselves and act as vigilantes. Dr. Weaver was great. He organized the 'Protectorate', large bands of men and women who patrol to give aid or rescue or protection to person or property. But the city is making comrades of us all. Even the looters are needing food and clean water, and most of the folks who can operate the machines and handle the medicines are here with us, so even the looters are starting to seek admission. The doctor treats them, welcomes them, advises them, places them in a role they can assume to help the cause and one by one, or some days in groups, our gathering grows. Dr. weaver is always with different groups now, I haven't been able to talk to him in days. The trouble with these groups is they all want something different, and they all want it now.

Again tonight after dark despite a wonderful day, we have problems and in the morning there are new patients laid out on the mats suffering from all types of injuries. It's not that things aren't better around here, they are. Usually at night there is music on the streets now, and even dancing. There are outdoor cafes springing up serving tiny cups of coffee and tea for barter, although some optimists still accept money. The gangs in our area are all under the care and control of Dr. Weaver. Despite some grumbling from the residents, he feeds the neighborhood hoodlums. In return they plunder elsewhere. There are many who question the ethics. From what I have observed of the other neighborhoods especially at night I believe he is doing very important work. Until the army arrives we have to keep anarchy at bay.

No-one has questioned me, probably think I just have to use a bathroom or something.

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