The Philosopher

For Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #110, where we write about this photo from RHADS at DeviantArt.

“You almost done there?”, said his colleague.

Corey turned the screwdriver the last half-turn. He stepped off the ladder, to admire his handiwork.

Not bad. This was his first job, but really, you could teach a monkey to do this stuff. Corey had freshly graduated, a Philosophy major. Unable to find vocational work because of the pandemic, he had settled on anything, if it paid the bills. And his new company had just been contracted by the government to beef up security in DC following the riots. Boom time. No complaints. Any money was good money.

He chuckled, ruefully. “Do you think anybody will get this?”


“You know. The brain, that aspect of subliminal control. Do you think anyone will get the sick joke?”

He continued. “Do you think anyone will look at this signpost and wonder? You know, what our fathers founded? What society has become? Where it went wrong?”


“Just sayin’, way back in 1787, the people owned the government, and we all signed up to that. Now, look at this. Who owns who?”

A pause, then:

“Hey, bookworm, shut the fuck up. Get your ass into the truck, and drive us to lunch.”


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