Thank God No Cows Were Killed

This is part 8 of 13 • Table of Contents

As it turned out, a vacancy opened up in the plot outside the coffee house when one of the participants turned to say something to another participant, and stepped off the curb backwards in front of an electric bus. Todd of the milkshake groaned from the doorway, but took the opportunity to claim ownership of the finance position.

Why would we let you do that? asked Ruth Tarver.

You invited me.

Oh, said Ruth. What else?

No one notices me.

Which means he’s good with money, said the Russian poet.

Ruth was skeptical, but the Russian poet said: Let him try. Look. He has a nametag that says Todd Masters, but nobody noticed until now. He’s a ghost.

The poet was right. The advantage of being a nobody is that nobody pays attention to you. Your manifestos go unread, your mail unopened. You’re never on TV. Throw in a slight limp and a clipboard, and you don’t even exist.

Therefore, with his character contract stamped, Todd got to work. He placed a bet on rigged race. He infiltrated a company party dressed as an accountant, and slipped the CEO a mickey. When the CEO collapsed, Todd shorted the stock.

Using the bland magic of his unnoticed ordinary ways, Todd Masters scooped money from various pockets and dropped it into Ruth’s coffers. The revolution soon had a small stockpile of arms and bombs and a few celebrity signed shovels. They printed books and taught people to read their own rights. They passed out bullets on street corners.

It continued well, but after several months of growth, the administration could no longer pretend – even with a fantastic prison love story that tugged heartstrings and ratings – that Ruth Tarver deserved her return to society. The threat to their authority was rising. They called a press conference where they declared her a domestic danger, and a most-wanted lawbreaker again.

What about the Russian poet? a reporter asked.

He talks too much, said the Minister of Criminals. It’s Ruth Tarver we’re after.

But she was ready. She knew turncoats and how they vandalized their verbs. She was two or three moves ahead the whole time. While the cops squealed tires through the streets blaring Ruth Tarver You Beautiful Offender over their loudspeakers, she glanced back over her shoulder and laughed.

Meanwhile, the executive branch demanded more car flips and broken bones. They claimed privilege. We opposed the destruction, and negotiated until we came to agreement: Ruth escaped, insurance covered the damages, and no cows were killed.

If you understood me, you’d be me, said the Russian poet.

Now you’ve done it, said a lady who wandered by with cats.

What?

That’s too far back in the story.

But that’s his signature line. He says it at his death door.

So what? You’ll make people think. Ruth warned us about that.

No. Ruth warned us not to measure our morals by archaic rules, not to get distracted by insignificant disputes. Step outside the lines, she liked to say, and breathe the fresh air of fresh ideas.

Problem is: a lot of dim uncertainty clung to the breezes at the time. There were countless versions of every event. Clowns looked like kings, rubble like construction. With the language of reality so hard to translate, people grew confused. Looking to add to that uncertainty, and to breed distrust, the administration frequently said that oppression was the true salvation, and death at their hands a great honor.

At times, alone at her bedside before sleep, Ruth Tarver kneeled on a rug and placed her head on the mattress. She imagined her neck in a guillotine. It would be an easy way out, she whispered. Yes, it was a weak thought of the throat, but she always kept her lips nearly sealed when she voiced it. Ruth was the principal player, and people looked up to her. She could not permit her private misgivings to fly like moths to the feverish public light.

The Thirteen Faces of Ruth Tarver • This is part 8 of 13 • Next Part • Table of Contents

Thanks for reading Dynamic Creed. Hope you’re enjoying the ride of Ruth. More pieces on the way. Stay tuned.

Would love to hear your thoughts. Drop a comment. Share. Like. There’s other stuff you can do, too, but you already know what they are. Carry on.

Thanks again, and may you stay open-minded and blessed,

Victor David

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