Richard Arthur Newberry

    “Pretty sure. I’ve seen his face before, but nobody really knows his name.”

    “You’re right, I never thought about that before. Strange. Hey,” she says, her voice rising, “look at him, that guy, right there. That’s Jackson Albright, the man who walked into my bookstore—the guy who wrote the new law.”

    Albright stares into the camera. He looks like a little man compared to the rest of the Triumvirate officials—a sad, pathetic figure caught in the crosshairs of history. Lost.

    “What do you think they’re going to do to them?”

    Darius turns to her. “That new law took my Pops. I bet a lot of good people suffered because of it. The Global Triumvirate had no right to…” He can’t finish the thought without wiping a tear from his eyes. “Whatever they do to these clowns is too good.”

    “You may be right, but when I spoke to Albright, he actually seemed like someone who just got caught up in the whole thing—the movement, the power, the world stage. Now that I think of it, he came across as just a regular guy keeping his head down and doing his job.”

    Darius shudders and whispers, “They were all just following orders.”