text: A crowd of thousands had appeared in what seemed like minutes. At 18:19, all traffic was flowing normally, predictably, outward from the city center as people returned from their daily duties and labors. At 18:23, traffic regulation systems detected disturbance flows back into the city center, in front of the Imperial Civic Building, the city hall, and at major media outlets. From the air, Imperial drones observed the sudden change, like ants picking up pheromones to attack and entering a frenzy. The streets seemed to vibrate with heat. By 18:54, major traffic arteries were clogged, there were organized flows of demonstrations in public spaces, and slogans were being chanted so that their voices could be heard. "Freedom!" was the chorus to every chant, though the rest of the lyrics changed from place to place. "Take down the machine!" "Give us back our privacy!" "Sexuality is our right!" Signals intelligence reported a surge in social media recruitment to come to the center of the city. This demonstration did not have a permit. A female voice cut in through a loudspeaker system all over town. "This gathering is not authorized. Imperial Civil Guard units will be dispatched. You are ordered to disperse." Sirens sounded, social media was shut down. The insects attacked. The city was on fire by 19:00. But the Empire was ready for this. This was not a coincidence in timing. Over the past week a new system had become operational: CyCLOPS. Cybernetic, Control, Law-enforcement, and Online Policing Software. The culmination of over a decade of work, the world could now be policed through a single automated server. And after its successful first run on all smuggling networks, it opened to larger criminal acts. This morning, all pornography was removed from the internet, and anyone who attempted to upload any found their personal device locked. The local Civil Guard units had been reinforced to enable rapid response to any perceived threats. Today, however, no Civil Guard Sentinels lines were in the streets. Something was wrong. Three Agents of the Emperor's Royal Body Guard were dispatched to visit Colonel Anthony Salvatores, who was not responding to orders from the Office of the Emperor. When the agents arrived, in their royal uniforms with swords on their hips and glinting armor, they were greeted by four Civil Guard soldiers in tactical power armor at the gate. "Let us through." The officer of the group commanded, "We're here to speak with Colonel Salvatores." "I'll bet you are," a soldier replied wryly. "Let us through," the agent commanded again. "Hang on now, I can't just let people up to see the boss. Haven't you seen what's going on outside? It's a mess out there." "Sergeant, you will notify the Colonel we are here to see him, and escort us to him. Immediately." "I'll have to check on that." He went silent, communicating by his suit's internal radio. This kind of insubordination was rarely seen. An agent made a note. "Where are your name tapes? What are your names?" She asked. They only looked at her, matching gazes behind masks. "How about that, amigos? Colonel says you can go ahead and come up. Let me take you to him." The three agents walked through a completely crowded headquarters of armed Sentinels of the Civil Guard- yet none of them were out patrolling. This was an insurrection of abstention. They could see the tone in the way the Sentinels looked at the agents. Glares, smirks, and irreverent gestures. A week ago their mere presence would have commanded silence. Why, now that CyCLOPS was operational did they suddenly think they could get away with this? The Colonel's office on the top floor was cluttered with decorations and various achievements. Plaques of his success, trophies of every stage of his life, and large, luxurious furniture. He thought highly of himself. "Sir, the three 'royals' are here to see you." "Welcome." He grinned. He was just about to light a fairly large cigar. "Celebrating something, Colonel?" "Something like that. Come in, have a seat." "Want me to stick around, sir?" asked the large, metal man. "Thank you, sergeant, but I've got this." The door closed. "Why have your sentinels not deployed?" "I don't know about you guys, but it looks pretty crazy out there to me. Somebody might get hurt. Didn't seem worth it." "Worth it!? Who are you to decide whether the Emperor's orders are 'worth it'!?" "See, that's what you guys in the Crimson Garrison don't get. I gotta look out for my own here. And I do. My soldiers will go to the ends of the earth for me, because they know I won't abuse that. There's trust. And that trust... well lets just say you broke yours." "The Imperial Union looks after all," the second agent barked through her gritted teeth, and her mask. "The order and security of everyone is in danger if you do not deploy your garrison." "What has the Emperor done to violate anyone's trust? We've only guaranteed protection more than ever before. Statistical analysis of contributing factors has suggested the superior course of action," the lead agent articulated clearly. "Yeah, I'm not so sure about that. Porn? You really think the juice is worth the squeeze on that one? There's no point to it." "There are numerous convergent negative influences in the pornographic industry, not least of which is the connection to human trafficking, slavery, and-" The Colonel raised his hands with his palms outward. "I didn't invite you up here to argue about it. They're out there, burning down your civic center. They're the ones you have to convince." The three masked figures looked at him in unison, like dogs snarling. Without a word, two agents flanked the Colonel on either side, hands resting on their sword hilts. Royal Guards were infamous for their unilateral actions with their very functional sabers. "Easy, fellas. I see those swords of yours, but I've got a dozen heavy suits out there that could tear you limb from limb. These little scare tactics of yours aren't going to do you any good here." To emphasize the fact, he sat down in his seat, put his feet up on his desk, and lit his cigar to smoke it. "Point is, gentlemen. And lady who-ever-you-are. I see the writing on the wall. This is the final straw for these people. One in a long line of mismanaged decisions. The cameras, the drones, the relentless surveillance. The restrictions on music, clothing, internet content, and whatever else you've been up to... uncounted things, right? They're tired of it, frankly my sentinels are tired of it and I'm tired of it. We've got to live in this world, too. I'm supposed to raise children in this? I might as well throw my own family in prison forever. Who would want that? And you call it for our own good? No one's buying it any more. Most never bought it from day one." "These decisions are based on a statistical model created by the best minds and the Emperor himself. This is the best way for humanity to survive the crisis." "'The Crisis!' Not the Crisis! This perpetual crux of human issues you fucks use to excuse everything you do. This conglomeration of imaginary issues- how does a resource shortage excuse this? What does porn have to do with crime rates, or pollution? You have any idea how dumb you sound? You can use as many multi-syllabic words as you can, doesn't change anything. The writing on the wall is still there. This is the last overreach of a dying empire. And you can count me out of it." He puffed on his cigar, content with himself. The head agent leaned forward, pressed the speaker button of his office phone and began dialing. "You can call anyone you want, I don't feel the need to talk to them! I don't give a shit anymore, guys! It's done! You fucked it up! Good job." The phone rang twice, and then a panicked woman answered. "Tony! Tony is that you?" A bolt hit him in the gut, and he jumped forward. He dropped his cigar straight on the floor. "Rosa!?" "Tony, oh my god, are you still at work? What's happening? These agents from the Royal Guard came and got me and the girls. I don't know where Benjamin is. They said they found him but I haven't seen him!" "What do you mean came and got you!? Where are you?" "I don't know! They came and said things were getting dangerous and that they needed to take us somewhere safe. I don't know where we-" the agent gently and deliberately picked up the receiver and set it down again, cutting off the phone call. "Colonel Salvatores, as she so simply put it, things are, indeed, getting dangerous. And I don't know that we can guarantee that it will be safe for her release... any time soon. But thankfully, as you so perfectly put it, your sentinels would march to the ends of the earth for you. You have the power to make it safe again. You have a reinforced garrison, more than enough. You have power suits, tear gas, helicopters, and if you need them- guns." Each of his words were slow, careful, like he was tasting them as he said them. The Colonel looked different. His eyes seemed dark, his pupils wide. He gripped the arm rests of his chair with white knuckles, and sat hunched over looking at the desk phone. "How... how did you get to them already?" "The statistical models work, Colonel. CyCLOPS works. You'd know that if you were paying attention. You've been a weak link on our scopes for a while now. Nothing can be done to avoid your inevitable execution for your insubordination here today. But you can get out there and do your job. And it'll be safe for your family to be... released. Am I clear?" The Colonel tried to look him in the eyes, but there were none there. Just the cold, mirrored reflection of the eye pieces of the agent's ballistic mask. "Crystal." At 20:04, a line of several hundred Sentinels in full gear marched out to meet the crowds. Lights, sirens, and the blaring of orders over the loud speaker could be heard through the night. The crowd put up a fight, but ultimately, it was not to be. The tear gas was so thick some people died of suffocation. An armed resistance formed after raiding several gun stores, but was put down even more quickly by heavily armored sentinels. Tools and equipment no one ever had time to see left rioters blind, and easy to pick off of the crowd by individual sentinels. Over 5,000 were arrested, with many more identified by facial recognition for later pick-up. The agents left the Colonel's office with only a "Deus Vult," their capes swishing on the way out. Colonel Salvatores wept. The Orders of the Emperor are not easily ignored, no matter who you are.