PROLOGUE
September 26.
Streets of Kramberg are once again packed with protestors. Flags and posters are furiously waved in the air. Shouts of democracy echo.
I was there that day. The day everything went to hell.
I stood ahead of my peers, my right hand righteously in a fist. We've been here for months, protesting this damn war, but the government, or anyone else didn't seem to care. That's when more of us came out. Something was very wrong here.
We realized that what we said and what we wanted suddenly no longer mattered.
How did this happen? When did our voices lose power and meaning?
Each day more and more joined the protest and each day the miniature "regulatory" army across us grew in size.
Until that day, when I stood ahead of me peers, my right had righteously in a fist.