Whiskey and Cigar

London – 1930

Adam finished his cigar with trembling hands. Smoking didn't help calming his nerves, but there was nothing worse than empty hands during that night. One hand held the cigar and the other one held a glass of whiskey. And not just any whiskey. A generous dose of the most expensive and rarest one. He'd kept that bottle for 15 years, waiting for a special moment. A moment worthy of celebration. A moment of equal importance as that bottle. He wasn't sure that moment deserved any celebration though. He'd been having second thoughts for quite a while. In fact, since the day they approached him and made him the offer.

The country's economy was in ruins. The people were starving. The war that costed the lives of so many young men was in the past, and yet another strife was brewing in the not so distant future. It was the first time in modern history that the continent looked so polarised. So eager to go to war. The capitalists were on the run after crippling the nation's hopes for as long as he could remember. The socialists, in similar fashion, had become ghosts of their glorious past. Eager to shout, but less eager to act, to do something, to help. The political arena was like the void that kept hunting his dreams. Dark and silent. Along with a huge gap in leadership. Who could fill that gap? Would could step in and change the course of humanity? For better or worse. Perhaps the answer to that question would be revealed soon.

He looked at the old wooden clock on the call. “3am” he whispered to himself. Not long now. He stood up from his desk and walked to the window. The humidity in Adam's study room had made the window glass all steamy, so he used his pocket square to clear it. He took a peak outside. The streets were all quiet and so eerily empty. The calm before the storm? Or had he overestimated those ... revolutionaries?

He still wasn't sure what to call them, even though they fancied the vague name “Followers” for themselves. They were surely fanatics, with the same zeal and dogmatism that you only see in a cult. They were fond of their gatherings and their leader's heartfelt speeches. They also wore the same clothes. Those white and gold uniforms to symbolise their unity and absolute loyalty to their cause. Their most vocal members kept preaching that the old world must end for everyone's sake. And that all traitors that brought us in this brink of extinction must be punished. They managed to work in the shadows for so long that when they eventually made themselves known to the public, the whole world was left speechless and numb. Since the “Revelation Day”, as they called it, they'd gathered more supporters than anyone could expect. Were those numbers enough for a complete takeover though?

He heard a knock on his door. “Sir?” his maid opened the door and took two steps inside the room.

“Oh Mary, of course. Yes, you can go home now” Adam said, while waving his hand dismissively. “And remember what I told you. You go straight to your home. No stops or detours. Take the main road with fast pace.”

“Yes, Sir, I'll do exactly as you told me”. Mary sounded scared. “S...Sir?” she try to speak with a trembling voice.

“Everything will be fine, Mary. Don't worry. Go now.” Adam said and watched her leaving the room. Perhaps he could thank her for everything she'd done, but he wasn't sure that would be the last time he'd see her.

He turned his mind back to the events about to unfold. The Followers approached him a few months ago. Since Adam was the chief justice of the Supreme Court, it made sense for them to try to convince him to join their cause. Having someone like Adam in their ranks would give them legitimacy in the eyes of the public. Perhaps now it was unnecessary with all the manpower they'd gathered, but still Adam's refusal was a temporary thorn. They let him know of everything they were planning. The coup, the executions, the reforms, even their ambitions for the next stage. What really bothered Adam was not what he heard from them. But mostly that after they told him everything and Adam's refusal, they simply let him go. Such confidence was unheard of. Adam could easily warn the authorities of their imminent attempt to seize power. His position and status would add gravitas to his warning. He kept himself awake numerous nights wondering why he didn't do it. Perhaps, it wouldn't change anything. Or perhaps, he didn't want to. He was so exhausted by the current affairs and future prospects that, perhaps, he wanted a change too, in whatever form the change would be.

He looked again at the clock. “3.30am”. Its ticking was subtle, yet so loud in his silent study room. He poured another glass of whiskey. “I'm going to savour it all” he thought. Not much longer now.

He started hearing sounds, so he turned to look outside again. At first, the noise sounded distant. He couldn't see anyone at first. Then, as the sounds came closer, he was able to see the first Followers. They were marching with unparalleled uniformity. Their eyes sparked with confidence. Their superiors were marching next to the them, holding banners of white cloth, embroidered with golden dragons. The whole spectacle was the very definition of lunacy. A lunacy that would soon become their new reality.

“Such madness.” he said to himself and turned his back to the window. He then poured another glass with enough whiskey to finish the bottle. He sat at his leather chair and raised the glass, like making a toast.

“Well, here's to the new world.” and he drank.