Emo Millennials

June 2043.

Trafalgar Square, Central London.

Elizabeth was just leaving their makeshift stage when she saw a bit of commotion at the back of the crowd. Someone had fallen to the ground, and Siobhan appeared to be helping them. She’d pushed her way through the throng as quickly as she could to see if she could help.

“Mike?”

Siobhan looked up. “You know him?”

Mike looked up from the ground to see his ex-wife standing a few feet away. He gave an incredibly awkward wave, revealing the bloody scrapes on his hand. “Hiiii, honey.” Siobhan helped him to his feet.

The crowd pushed on in their modest hundreds, starting their march to Downing Street, signs waving. A chant of “CONSCRIPTION IS SLAVERY!” grew as they walked. Siobhan looked at Elizabeth with urgency in her eyes. Elizabeth nodded. “You go on” she said, handing Siobhan the megaphone she’d been using to address the rally. “I’ll make sure he’s okay. Not sure I’m much use in a march, anyway.”

Siobhan looked concerned but nodded back. “Aye I’ll head off, but all the press will be at that end, not this end. I hope yous can make it.” She ran up a couple steps, grabbed the apple box and took off to join the march. And after that flurry of activity, Elizabeth and Mike were standing alone in Trafalgar Square. She threw her hands up and slapped her thighs.

“It’s been what, ten years?” Mike decided to go first.

“Has it? Doesn’t feel that long.”

“I think it’s closer to fifteen at this point.”

“Ah.” She assumed when she saw him that this would be awkward, but now, standing here, it didn’t feel awkward so much as it felt like nothing at all. She stared at him and no feelings came to the surface. No reason to be awkward. He looked older, a bit heavier. He’d gone grey, but that had already started in his 30s. He was dressed terribly, but that’d also already started in his 30s. No wedding ring. And there was the matter of his being on the ground? “So, what happened? Someone bump into you?”

“Oh. No. I just got a little lightheaded.”

“You still get panic attacks?”

“I don’t know if that’s what they are.” She nodded sharply. Same old Mike. “Do you want to... should we grab a coffee? Before you⁠—”

“—I do need to catch up with the march at some point.”

He nodded. “Right, of course, of course.” His tone was that of addressing an old university friend you accidentally ran into on the tube. Neither of you want to be doing this, but polite society demands it of you. And neither of you wants to be the one who explicitly says, No, as it turns out, I thought I’d never see you again, and that seemed fine.

“Of course, we could grab a coffee on the way. If you can walk with me.”

“I could walk that way, I suppose. If you don’t mind the distraction.”

“It’s no distraction.”

“And you don’t need to be at work?”

“Oh, I don’t think I do that anymore.”

Elizabeth tilted her head in surprise at that remark. “Oh? Well, okay then. I’m sure there’s a café we can stop in along the way. And we can unpack that a bit!”

“There’s a Nestle kiosk just on the corner here.” She grimaced, then nodded. Those bloody kiosks drove her crazy. But she was aware they were a quarter of the price of a hand-made coffee, and he’d just said he wasn’t working.

They walked to the kiosk in silence. This wasn’t unusual back when they were married, but it felt odd now, some 15 years on from the last time they’d seen each other. In fact, the last time she’d seen Mike was in the kitchen of their two-bedroom flat in Ealing, which had been his, that he’d convinced her to move into. He’d been having some breakfast – eggs, toast and a mug of coffee – and she’d had nothing, using that time instead to brief him on where to go to meet up with Cass. “Black gate, wait there, someone will collect you,” she’d told him, and then dropped him a pin.

Even though she obviously knew that was the last time they’d seen each other, it still took her by surprise when she recalled the memory. It still sounded like the sort of thing that happened to other people, not you.

None of this seemed to be weighing on Mike at all. There he was, fresh off his panic attack, walking briskly to get some coffee, leading the way and all but ignoring her presence.

It was enviable, she supposed. And it helped her be okay with the way she also felt nothing. Nothing but some random bits, some facts floating by, called up through sheer relevance with no emotional heft to them.

They’d apparently arrived at the kiosk while she was lost in thought. The trademark beeps and chimes of a Nestle CafePoint filled the space between them.

“Mocha?” He casually tossed out her usual order from a decade and a half ago, which was still her usual order today. The audacity. She shook her head.

“Long black, please. These bloody things can’t mix a proper drink to save their lives.”

He smirked incredulously and keyed it in, then tapped his watch to the pad. Shit. “I’m happy to pay.”

“Bit late, but it’s my treat.” The machine whirred away, dropping two cups and pouring two drinks. Ridiculously fast, as always, and surely just as shit as she’d come to expect. They both picked up their cups. Mike gestured to let her lead. “After you.”

This was already becoming unbearable. Why had she agreed to it?

“You look nice.” He fired a compliment at her like a warning shot.

“Thanks. Still fits. The MP Collection by Elizabeth Marsh.”

“So you’re back into politics, then? That’s great.”

The nerve of him. What was he playing at? “So, you came to see me then, did you? How’d you find out about the rally?”

“I designed your flyer.”

“Shut the fuck up.” She stopped and spun round to face him. “You did? You didn’t.”

“I did! Not on purpose. Your group hired the firm I work at. Well, I’m not sure if I still work there. We were apparently acquired by Magenta today. It’s my day off. I was out for a walk and found out from that woman who helped me.”

“Oh, Christ. I’m so sorry.” She seemed to show genuine concern, but even she wasn’t sure whether it was. “What was the name of the firm?”

“HumanTouch. We erm, we specialise in handmade designs. You know, no tool assistance. No automation. Just a man with a pen and a brief.”

“No shit? Well, it makes sense we’d do that. Given the cause. I’m surprised we don’t have any volunteers who can draw a flyer. That’s a little depressing.” She frowned and hoped it wasn’t actually the case, that Siobhan was just lazy and didn’t bother looking.

“I’m kidding. Well, I’m not kidding, except about finding your rally that way. I just happened to be walking by.”

They still weren’t moving, she noticed. They really needed to be, to get to the rally on time. But she didn’t want to rush him. The panic attack, the news about the acquisition. Was he in shock? Surely, he must be. She stopped short of putting her hand on his shoulder.

“God, Mike, I’m so sorry. To run into me on the day you lost your job. You’ve really struck out there.”

“They say bad things come in threes, so it’s likely my flat’s burning down right now.”

She was struck by how conflicted she’d become over this. It was crucial she be at the rally. It was why she came back to London in the first place. It was also, sort of, if she were prone to dramatics, the continuation of her life’s work. But there was the other bit of her chiming in now, the bit of her that did not want to be ghoulish to her ex-husband. And partly wondered whether either of them would bring up the obvious, yet less savoury, topic.

“Listen. I’ve got to go to this thing, bit of an obligation really. But I could get drinks after?” Mike laughed and looked around as if to say ‘can you believe this’ to his invisible audience.

“For Elizabeth Marsh? How could I possibly say no?” She groaned. He was determined to make her regret this.

“I’ll meet you then? After?”

“When does it end? Your, whatever this is.”

“I’ve no earthly idea, if I’m honest. It’s a protest rally, not a telly programme.”

“So whenever you’re threatened with arrest then.”

“Suppose so, yes.”

“I’m happy to tag along. I’ll stand at the back. Watch your speech. As we’ve established I have nowhere to be.” Mike smiled his wry smile. So many new wrinkles. So much less hair. She’d resisted ever looking him up, and it really did take her by surprise. Had she also gotten this old? What he must think of her, as well.

She chuckled. “Fine, fine. Come along then, old man.”

And so they marched, such as it was when they were a mile behind everyone else, all the way to Downing Street.

When they arrived, Elizabeth was actually stunned by the size of the group. It had grown to what looked like twice the size since she’d last seen it, and about three times as rowdy. Loud chants filled the air and police cars lined the street on either side, barriers having been erected to corral them into a designated “zone.” Modern British protest. Say whatever you like against the government, as long as you stand exactly here, there’s no more than this many of you, your loudspeakers are roughly this loud, and you’re done before the 5 p.m. rush.

Nevertheless, she’d take what she could get. She deposited Mike at the agreed-upon spot, “the back,” and then worked her way forward. As she moved through the crowd cheers would occasionally rise as they’d recognise her, open a gap, send her through, then the cycle would repeat. It was exhilarating for her, as in her relatively short political career prior to this she’d never exactly been a superstar.

Finally she’d cut through far enough that she caught sight of Siobhan, their actual superstar, and a hand thrust out to pull her up next to their trusty apple box, where Siobhan was already posted and leading the chants.

Her voice took on a fresh energy after she saw Elizabeth.

“Yous have all heard enough from me!” she bellowed into the megaphone, seeming to play up her usually-soft accent. “I want ye ta hear from a legend of British politics. A woman who inspired me to be up here today, fightin’ for what I know is right. For the society we deserve. A woman who knows first hand just how much damage Magenta have done, how much damage our politicians have done to us, te pad their own pockets! A woman who Westminster were too afraid to let hang around! A woman who has the battle scars from a life fighting the power! A woman who can help lead us into power! Elizabeth Marsh!”

The crowd roared. Elizabeth was beaming as she bounded up onto the box, Siobhan leaping down to make room, handing off the microphone as she did. Some boo’ing was mixed in with the cheers, along with some indistinct shouts. Elizabeth shot a nervous look back down to Siobhan, who closed her eyes, shook her head and waved a hand dismissively. Elizabeth nodded, her smile giving way to a bit of anxiety.

“Thank you for coming here today, all of you, and thank you for still believing in democracy! In the building behind me, just over 15 years ago, the government set us on the wrong path. A dark path. A spiral downward⁠—”

Another jeer came from the crowd, followed by some shushing and boo-ing. Elizabeth scanned around, trying to see the source of it. She was shaken now. Her fears were coming true almost instantly.

“I’m sorry, it sounds like we might have someone here who isn’t happy to see me.” She squinted and kept looking.

“Oi, you bloody did this to us!” There he was. An older man, English, maybe in his early sixties, pointing right at her. “It was your bloody plan! Your idea!” Elizabeth laughed skittishly, involuntarily. Her eyes tried to find the back of the crowd, to see if Mike was seeing this, or if he’d gone. But there were too many people. In the corner of her eye she saw Siobhan trying to goad her on. She blocked it out.

“You’re a disgrace!” Another shouting voice, from somewhere she couldn’t see. It was such a mistake to be here, she cried from inside herself. It was always going to be this. Other shouts rang out, filled with vitriol, hatred, disgust.

“Let her speak!”

“She’s a liar!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck her like she fucked this country!”

There was no hiding what she was, no redemption for her here. Why had she let Siobhan convince her otherwise? Fucking idealistic Siobhan, a child when this all started. Still a child.

Elizabeth froze. She looked out at them all, now quiet, staring up at her. She stared back, megaphone held to her mouth, but no words came. She worried none ever would. She’d wasted these people’s time. She’d wasted her own time.

“You’re right,” she finally said. “I was there. I thought I could help, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t help then. And I can’t help now.”

A loud bit of feedback reverberated through the air as she lowered the megaphone and stepped down from the crate. Siobhan grabbed her as she tried to get past.

“Where are ya goin’? We fuckin’ need ya, you’re supposed to be the adult in the room. Christ, you emo Millennials.” She stripped the megaphone off of Elizabeth and jumped back up in her place on the box. The crowd had started to drift, a cacophony of side chatter and despondent resignation.

Siobhan stood on the apple box wielding the megaphone like a weapon. “Oi! What am I hearing? Booing? Threats?” She paused, looking out at the crowd. She shook her head disdainfully. Her voice was full of fire, full of passion. “You boo her? You threaten her? You’re booing our whole movement. Threatening everything we stand for. Cause I’m only up here cause of that woman there, yeah? That woman you’re booing. I’m only up here because of her. Which means all of us are only here because of her.”

She appeared to have captivated the crowd, or at least shamed them into listening a bit longer.

“We didn’t get to choose this, yeah? We didn’t choose this society. We were born into this. They sold our destiny to Magenta when I was seven years old. By the time I graduated, getting your envelope was just another part of growing up. But it doesn’t have to be this way. People made it this way. I never really thought about it until I read her book. It motivated me to go learn more. And now I understand what they gave up. What they lost. And what we could get back. And so I started this party. To put Humans First. Cause it’s up to us to decide what kind of world we want to live in.”

She’d worked the crowd into a lather, their cheers rising to crescendo. Siobhan had found her cadence.

“But let’s face it. Not a lot of us know how any of this political shit works, yeah? Don’t have the patience for it personally myself.” A big laugh. She paused and smiled, drinking it in. Then she pointed at Elizabeth. “But you know what? She does. So I went and found her. And I told her what we were about. How we want to change the system. How we want a fair system where we can work for each other and ourselves. And she believes we can do it. And I believe in her. Do you believe in me?”

“YEAH!” A chorus of shouts rose up from a friendlier section of the crowd.

“Do you believe in what we can do?”

“YEAH!”

Elizabeth looked up at Siobhan, already a decent height, towering above her on the crate. She was playing the crowd like an instrument. The sun broke through a cloud behind her. It was a glorious image. Beautiful, moving. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself. Always a sucker for poetic imagery in a moment.

“Now I’d like to hear her speak.” Siobhan pointed at someone in the crowd. “Would you?” They nodded. “Yeah! How about you?” Another nod. She started clapping, others following. She looked down at Elizabeth and smiled, then hopped down. Elizabeth cautiously stepped up. Thunderous applause greeted her.

Her smile was infectious as she started speaking.

“Thank you, Siobhan. I’m thrilled to continue.”