It turns out that an eerie type of chaos can lurk just behind a facade of order - and yet, deep inside the chaos lurks an even eerier type of order.

Douglas R. Hofstadter

CHAOS

The evening sky showed redder than usual over the town. The fall's mist reflected the light of the few isolated street lamps, which seemed to make the sodden air and the heavy clouds look even gloomier. Scarcely a creature was to be seen in the streets. The wailing note of a bugle sounded from afar off and the roll of drums echoed menacingly from the house fronts and was lost in the dark alleys.

Some twenty policemen were gathered in front of the police station. Their faces were chalky pale and their white-gloved hands hung heavy at their sides. The holsters of their revolvers dangled awkwardly from their belts. Their bright silver badges catch the early morning sun. They were waiting for something to happen, and as my footsteps sounded on the pavement they followed me with their eyes, making no other movement.

One of them wore the ribbon of the Medal of Distinction in the buttonhole of his blue tunic. He was standing a few steps away from the others and seemed to be listening anxiously for the call of the bugle. In a hoarse voice I asked him: "Has it begun?" and the words stuck in my throat.

The policeman stood like a block. He had to lower his head to look at me. His tired eyes were caught by the buttons glittering on my uniform. and he looked at me in astonishment. Suddenly he laid a heavy hand on my shoulder: "Better go home and take off that uniform," he said.

And to me, accustomed as I was to obey orders, his words sounded like an order. Startled, I stood to attention as if before an officer. "No, no. . .", I said; and after a pause that seemed an eternity again "No." And then I went, running blindly, stumbling through the deserted streets, across wide squares where shadows lurked, through parks where my feet rustled among the dead leaves. At last, I huddled shivering in my room, while the bugle shrilled weirdly through the streets.

I could not bear the silence. I had piled up on my table the things which might help me to pull myself together: my father's photograph taken in uniform at the outbreak of the war, the pictures of friends and relations who had fallen in the war, my brother's scarf, his sword, his shoulder-straps, a Valemen tin hat he had sent home, his pocket-book with the bullet hole through it - the blood on it was dark and patchy now, my grandfather's epaulets with their heavy tarnished silver tassels, a bundle of letters written from the front on musty paper but all that had lost its meaning for me. It could not affect me now. It was connected with the days when flags hung from every window for our victories. Now there were no more victories and the flags had lost their glamour. Now everything seemed to be falling into ruins around me and the road which I should have followed was blocked. I was bewildered by the events which were crowding on me, whose meaning I could not interpret. All I could realize was that the world I had known, of which I was a part, to which my youth had been pledged, had vanished never to return.

I leaned out of my attic window and listened to the rain. dripping in the gutters. On the shining pavement far below me, I saw menacing black shadows from the houses and the bedraggled trees. A clinging mist rose from the street, climbed up the walls, and spread into every nook and cranny. My candle went out, and I threw all the things which were on the table pell-mell into a drawer. All night long I lay awake. I was delivered over to the terrifying silence, knowing only that I must at all costs be strong to face whatever the future might bring.

Then, the next morning, I came down into the kitchen, I found my mother cutting the white shoulder straps off my great coat. I dared not meet her glance, and sitting hunched up with downcast eyes I drank the wretched thin coffee and helped myself to a couple of slices of damp black bread. Then I took my coat up to my room and sewed the shoulder straps on again. And carefully lifting my feet in their heavy nailed trench boots I crept downstairs to the hall. I buckled my belt over my tunic in defiance of the regulation which forbade this to cadets. My sword, long and slender in its fine leather scabbard, was shining and pointed but not sharpened. I pulled it out and looked at it dubiously.

At last, I went out into the street. Women were standing in front of the shops in long queues, as usual, talking animatedly. Their arms folded, carrying purses and baskets, they gazed beyond me, red-rimmed eyes looking out of pale faces. A good many shopkeepers had not yet opened their premises. A little man with a sad face was standing on a ladder carefully scraping off the sign 'Purveyor to the Royal Family.'

I suddenly heard the sound of a disturbance on one of the main streets and resolved to find out what was happening. I felt very nervous, but I set my teeth and said 'Buck up!' to myself, and again 'Buck up!' as I heard scraps of shrill singing and shouts from many throats, sensed confusion and tumult. A gigantic flag was being carried in front of a vast procession, a multi-color flag. Limp and damp it hung from its pole - then floated like a patch of discord over the crowd which had rapidly collected. I stood and watched. Tired multitudes plodded after the flag; women were in front in voluminous skirts, their grey skins. hanging slackly over sharp cheekbones. Hunger seemed to have hollowed them out. From under their dirty ragged head kerchiefs, they sang in trembling voices a song whose martial rhythm was ill-matched with their weary tread. The men, old and young, soldiers, workmen, and small shopkeepers, walked with dull, tired faces, in which there was yet a hint of sullen resolution; from time to time they fell into step and then immediately did their best to break step again as though detected in some fault. Many of them carried their food with them; and behind the wet multi-color flag, on which the rain made dark stains, umbrellas billowed over the crowd.

So marched the army of the Revolution. The wild dreams of reform, of blood and barricades, were to be realized by this grey rabble!

I was determined not to give way to them. I stiffened and thought 'canaille'-'mob'-'rabble'-'riff-raff.' I half shut my eyes and watched the vague smudged figures. Like rats, I thought, with the filth of the gutters on them, grey, furtive, with little red-rimmed eyes. Suddenly some sailors appeared. Sailors, wearing immense multi-color sashes, carrying rifles in their hands, with laughing faces under beribboned caps and loose, easy clothes on supple figures. 'Our boys in blue!' shot through my mind, and then I thought disgust would choke me; but it was not disgust, it was fear. These were the leaders of the revolution, these young fellows with their determined faces, these wild lads arm-in-arm with girls, singing, laughing, joking, boasting. A motor car came along, with sailors on the running board, sitting on the radiator, waving a multi-color rag like a pennon. Some of them were looking around for mischief to do, shouting hoarsely; the women yelled to them and pointed. What were they pointing at? At me? Were they pointing at me? Here was the danger! Instantly the thought arose in my mind that whatever happened I must not flinch. I felt for my sword and remembered that it had not been sharpened. However, I kept my hand on the pommel and squared my shoulders.

A soldier walked past me, a young fellow, with no belt, wearing brown gaiters and eyeglasses, carrying a despatch case, and with the shoulder straps still on his greatcoat. They went for him. One of them, an artilleryman, broad and thick-set, with heavy riding boots and a multi-color cockade in his cap, "Here's another of 'em!" he yelled as he landed the young soldier one in the eye with his fist.

Then he tore off his shoulder straps, so violently that the boy stumbled and nearly fell, went ashy pale, and stammered "But why, in Oum's name, why?"

The swine, I thought - the Faunus. At that instant, the Faunus's eyes fell upon me too. He had little sly eyes, an unshaven chin, and bristly hair. He put up his fists, big, red, hairy fists. I looked around quickly. The crowd had formed a circle around me - there were women amongst them - and a man in a bowler hat waved an umbrella at me - somebody laughed - several people laughed - but I only thought of my shoulder straps. Everything depended on those shoulder straps - my honor - how absurd, what did they matter - yes, they were all important! I drew my sword. Then the fist was planted in the middle of my face.

For a moment I almost lost consciousness and blood flowed over my chin. Hit him, I thought, there's only one thing to be done. hit him! I did, but the artilleryman laughed and spat in my face; and a woman screamed at me: 'You jackanapes, you fancy-boy, you ninny.' A stick struck the back of my neck and I fell. Someone kicked me, then the whole crowd seemed to be kicking and beating me. I lay and hit out as best I could in all directions, though I knew it was useless. They all laughed and jeered and hit me. Blood ran from my eyes and nose. Suddenly the tumult ceased.

Someone came out of the Carlton Hotel - with my swollen eyes I could just see that it was an officer. He was tall and slim and wore the blue uniform of a hussar. His cap was tilted jauntily and he had on patent leather boots with silver lacing. On his tunic was the medal of Valor first-class and in his eye a monocle. He tapped his boots with his riding-whip. He tapped his boots and came straight towards the mob. The women were silent, the crowd parted, the man with the bowler hat vanished, and the Faunus cleared off. The tall elegant blue figure bent over me and gripped me by the arm. I stumbled to my feet and stood to attention.

"Stand at ease, boy," he said. "I've been a cadet too. Come along to my hotel." I went with him, wiping the blood off my face and saying, "Anyhow they didn't get my shoulder straps!"

So ended my first battle with the Revolutionaries.

Note from Translator

My Great Grandfather was never going at putting his stories into context. This short episode happened shortly after the defeat of the Kingdom of Mantle in the battle of August fields. When word of the defeat reached the City of Veitsrodt the sailors of the Royal fleet mutiny and The Color Revolution of 1386 started. My grandfather was a Royal military cadet in the local military school at the time.

-Saphron Cotta-Arc

Real Author note

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