'Amalgamation 1' by Jack Burston

‘After two great powers, there will be a single amalgamation.’

Ex-President Papaver, July 21st, aged 75,

i

My brother died in the seclusion zone they put him in, modern Presidents were treated this way in the aftermath of their reign. He dribbled and murmured, he was John my brother, Claire, was my sister, she uttered and stammered. I had to decode them often and it dehumanised me. My brother’s final, dribbled words are the words that I quoted to start this. He was predicting. He was in love with the nearness of the void.

S
ii

The skyline of Nankelfield had being destroyed by growing tallness. The remaining burns of post-industrial loss ran right the way through the town and into my burning crevice. Flat 25-14 was twenty five floors up, too far up. Lorne Road was a long way beneath me. Occasionally people would call, the only route to the ex-President was me, and so they would call, and call, until they were dead or until they forgot who I was and why I was here. My accent still dribbled. It was a more coherent version of my brother’s, but still a distinct dribble to those around me in Nankelfield. My nephew would ring occasionally. The sons of Presidents were secluded like their Fathers. Political Inheritinzin had become the foundation of political supremacy. My brother was a dead King Bee, and his son never knew. Slipping in and out of importance, John Papaver Jr was a floundering nephew, but his blood was brilliant. His father had changed the skull of America into a brilliant post-industrial hemisphere. He was the Inheritint and therefore, he was important without bounds.