"The Shepherd: Compiled"(Joseth Moore) “The Shepherd: COMPILED,” by Joseth Moore. Copyright @ 2020.

The Great Pandemic of 2020 brought on a new system of governance among humans, whom were, largely, unable to control the global populace from spreading the disease.
But decades later, not everyone was so keen on the all-seeing system, even if it was working on their behalf. The restorative sovereign movement (RSM) was the global resistance that Ritch Falls, a mid-level manager, flirted with. But his moderate views of the Shepherd Kiosk system that regulated humans all over the world after the Pandemic did not fit with the movement. Sooner than later, Ritch would be caught in the middle of the societal clash between those that were sheep to the Shepherd network and those that refused to follow…


Chapter One
…The lines stretched all the way from the terminals, snaked past the new customers coming in, until the queues approached the wing of the building that was originally built for home and gardening items—faded murals of idyllic suburbia seemed to be left as an insult from glory days of Society. Ritch was jarred out of his wit as one of the store supervisors tersely told him he was holding up the line! Ritch apologized and dutifully stepped up about ten feet and stood on the next assigned place-marker; his plastic basket of small groceries dangling in one of his hands…
Ritch adjusted his facemask; it was getting sweaty within during his errand-runs on that day. The line moved again, and a bit faster than Ritch anticipated. That was good. He still had to go to work on the second shift—

“Heard about those camps?”, questioned a man directly behind Ritch. He was standing on the adjacent place-marker, dressed much like most people there: jeans, sensible shoes, a basic shirt…and facemasks. The other man’s eyes betrayed the fact that he was the one whom had asked Ritch the question. For his eyes were on the new-comers to the multiplexed super-store.
“Yeah,” Ritch finally responded after the whole line moved, yet, again. “I was watching some guy on social net ranting on about one of them…I think he was in the Denver area.”
“You sound like you’re skeptical about them,” the stranger observed.
A small shrug from the fifty-something Ritch. This time he shifted his upper-body to get a look at the man. “Well, you know how these conspiracy theories always pop up when things go to shit in politics.”
“Were Nazi concentration camps and the Japanese internment camps in the US conspiracy theories, too?”
Ritch froze for a couple of seconds after that comment. The line moved again…
Ritch nodded to himself before speaking through his mask. “Ok…valid point. By the way; Ritch…”
“Paulo,” he responded through his mask, the slightest of a tilt of Paulo’s head; his eyes staying mostly on the new-comers’ line.
“You know,” Ritch finally said after a lull, “I saw a couple of headlines about these supposed camps in addition to this guy I told you about out of Denver…I don’t know, Paulo. I have to admit, I’m not following those kinds of stories that closely, but it seems like the government is just trying to keep those with the most severe cases quarantined from the greater population! Is that so bad?”
The line moved again, and this time, Ritch was getting closer to the checkout terminals.
“It is when the government forces you to go there against your will.” This time Paulo’s attention was on Ritch.
“But what about people like you and me? Don’t we have a right not to be exposed?”
This time it was Ritch with the valid point and Paulo nodding his head. “We do…but forcibly removing American citizens out of their homes with the National Guard, Ritch…?”
Even during uncertain times, whether political or societal in nature, Ritch was the type of person to always try to stay level-headed about controversies. But even he could not give a readied answer to Paulo’s point about America’s domestic Guard being used for such policies.

Ritch finally made it up to the self-checkout terminals. This was where artificial intelligence took over for the human supervisors. Ahead were several checkout kiosks, some with shoppers still using them, others becoming vacant.
Front and center, directing the pedestrian traffic, was a towering Kiosk—standing about seven feet. The tall, dark machine was fitted with all sorts of screens for displaying words and graphics to direct pedestrians, so the monitors were cylindrical to maximize a 360-degree of view. Just as so many other Kiosks, it was also a communications tool for federal and local government officials to keep track of pedestrian telemetry—who was ill, who was conducting criminal acts, who was on a terrorist or criminal watch list... Corporations also used these hired guns, but commercial in nature.
These Kiosks, collectively referred to as the Shepherd, were everywhere! Especially cities of any size throughout the world. Some considered them to be the “living monuments,” as a result of the great pandemic of 2020. Apparently, back then, humans had trouble disciplining themselves to quarantine or maintaining proper hygiene, hence the eventual use of the Kiosks to regulate humans when they were out in the public-sphere. The problem for some citizens of the world was, after governments throughout the globe finally got control of the pandemic, the Shepherd became a permanent part of life. In fact, several decades later the Kiosks’ population seemed to grow at a faster rate after the pandemic than the human population did…
Needless to say, this birthed a myriad of conspiracy theories amongst humans of the famous Singularity-themed urban legends. Of some plot by some cabal to either replace humans as the dominate species on Earth, or, at best, to shepherd them! The rumors and modern lore would sounds ridiculous but for one point: Up until the days of Ritch’s generation, no one—none of the governments throughout the world, nor any of the corporations, nor universities…no one knew who began to build the Kiosks decades ago! Basically, during the Great Pandemic of 2020, government entities began receiving shipments of the devices, with, apparently, no return address or fake ones. Ritch’s generation speculated that things on Earth were so desperate, with all the deaths from the pandemic, that the governing officials did not even bother to probe deeply into whomever it was that constructed them.
And the implementation of the Shepherd worked. When a desperate population receives gifts from a source that helps its society, often, questions are not asked…

After the Kiosk at the super-store gave Ritch, Paulo, and a few others the permission to check out, Ritch, Paulo, and the other customers quickly dispersed to vacant terminals and conducted their payments and left the store.

A Couple of Hours Later, Ritch Falls’ residence; within a towering apartment complex…
Ritch had his lunch after finishing up his errands before going into his second shift job. He had his personal device on the news while he was washing up his plate from his meal. He lived alone so dishes were easy to stay on top of, as a chore.
While he was grabbing his clothes, appropriate for his office job, the news from his pd’s screen flashed and the scene on the communicator went to news coverage of the aftermath of a bombing! But this was not the international or national section of the news block, it was local! The news was being carried Live, so the situation was still developing. But with modern society’s use of private and governmental videos being so ubiquitous, there were visuals on three suspects—two men and one woman. The trio were covered in black clothing as they fled the scene of the terroristic act: several kiosks from the downtown district of the Shepherd network were demolished!
The mysterious trio were bold about their criminal acts: two of the three were videoed from various angles getting out of their getaway car and lobbing grenades--or some kind of homemade bombs—at the towering pieces of technology that were scattered about on that particular block of downtown. The two figures were seen hopping back into the non-descript car and ultimately fleeing the scene. Of course, no license plates or other identifiable features were seen on the car. All this had occurred just minutes prior of the news broadcast.
It occurred to Ritch, that though it was the local timeslot of the news, he had read and watched news footage that showed similar bombings happening in various parts of the world! He thought about his conversation with that customer, Paulo, earlier in the day at the super-store. No, Ritch thought to himself while getting dressed, Paulo was not one of the three criminals in the footage: by the video one could see they were of a much younger demographic than Paulo, whom was around sixty; from what Ritch could judge. But it was an epiphany for Ritch to see that average citizens in the world could feel so uncomfortable and suspicious of a system that was put into place in order to protect them, that they were willing to risk killing other human beings while destroying some of the Kiosks!

11PM; Ritch Falls’ worksite…
Ritch’s shift ended and he was shutting down his computer system, via voice command. He was a mid-level manager in the ombudsman department of a factory that he worked for. His artificial intelligence device helped him sift through electronic reams items—from car parts to financial electronic files. His boss was out of the office for a few days; Ritch was not sure if it was work-related or personal. All the same, he had to watch the department while she was gone.
He placed his facemask on after gathering his personal things and let the AI shut off the lights behind him after closing the door to the office. While Ritch was walking through the plant while on his way to his vehicle, he could see the shift-change amongst the workers. Those leaving for the night had a happy disposition about them—joking around and laughter while those clocking on were far more reserved.
“Hey, Richie,” called out one of the workers through her mask as she stood in a line of workers, as they waited to walk past one of the Kiosks in the factory; tasked with clocking the employees in and out while scanning for anyone who may have been sick and watching for tardiness, “you see that bombing downtown today?”
“Yeah…must be part of some kind of political movement against the Shepherd!” Ritch said this loudly, talking over the plant’s whir of machines and people talking.
“It’s the revolution, baby!”
Ritch was surprised by not only her response, but several other workers in the line agreed with her as they clapped and made celebratory sounds! Ritch was not a fan of the Shepherd network, but nor did he agree with any of the bombing campaigns against them. He may have been mid-level management, but Ritch did not have—nor want—the authority to discipline the workers for expressing their First Amendment rights; even while at the jobsite.

Between customer Paulo and the workers’ reaction to the local Kiosk-bombing, for the first time in his life Ritch was paying close attention to just how many of the slender, towering machines there were!
They were, generally, strategically placed depending on what jurisdiction the Kiosks were. In the case of Ritch’s plant, the owners and the CEO of the facility decided to encamp the Kiosks at the perimeter of the factory’s sprawling swath of real estate, with scores of them in the parking lots and within the plant itself.
And that was just one factory…
Some of the other second shift workers and supervisors were, also, walking to their respective vehicles. Ritch saw Alma Salina, from Human Resources, walking just a couple of parking rows from where he was walking. He quickly went over to catch her before she got into her car. The two were work-buddies and often discussed all things personal to political. Ritch wanted to get her opinion about what he saw with the factory workers a few minutes prior and his conversation with customer Paulo…
“So, am I just an aging guy who’s out of touch with the younger generation? I don’t think so –“
“Yeah, you said your super-store friend was like, what, sixty years old,” Alma asked as she leaned against her car. She adjusted her facemask—apparently, like everyone else, getting tired of it cupping her mouth and nose. She was professionally dressed and in her twenties. Alma being so young was one of the reasons he wanted to get her perspective. Ritch did not socialize often, and when he did, it was usually with older people.
“From what I could guess, yeah…but I don’t get it. It’s not like the Shepherd network is rounding citizens up and marching them to work or to force them to go to hospitals if they’re sick. This is not a 1984 situation where Big Brother is controlling our lives!”
She responded sarcastically. “Yeah, Richie, it’s worse!”
Not expecting her answer, Ritch froze and crossed his arms and remained quiet. Alma took the clue and continued. “Richie…don’t you think it’s odd that none of the world’s most premier academicians, government agencies, and others in high places have any idea who constructed these things? Yeah, I know, you’re probably thinking I’m going down the alien lane with this one; but I’m not! I’ve heard not just on the social net, but in some gatherings I’ve attended, that some people are starting to think it’s some secret society or a deep state organization that’s been building the damn things for decades under the world’s noses without the rest of us even knowing about it…just sitting back, waiting for the right opportunity to unleash their Frankenstein Kiosks all over the world!”
“To what end, Alma? What would a cabal get out of spending—what would have to be—literally trillions of dollars, just to control people like us when they could’ve used that money to spend on themselves? No offense, my friend, but it seems self-defeating if you ask me.”
“But that’s just it, Richie; the Shepherd system does work on their behalf…what do farmers do with the animals they raise? Besides slaughter them, in the more traditional operations, of course…”
The young woman remained leaning against her vehicle while she waited for the middle-aged man to think things through. She waved at a couple of workers that bid her, Good night!
“Well, obviously farmers raise the animals for slaughtering them for the market, ultimately. But—”
“Richie, they feed the animals…they house the animals…they also protect them from wild predators—with guns, no less—yet, when it’s all said and done, those same farmers will kill those same animals to sell to market..”
Another person with a good point against the Shepherd system, Ritch had to admit to himself. He pensively looked down at the asphalt of the parking lot until a thought came his way.
“Ok, let’s play it your way for now…so, who’s this 'They' everyone keeps talking about? For the sake of our friendship, Alma, I hope you don’t start going down the classic and bigoted usual suspects-road!”
“Ritch, you know me better than that!” Alma got up from leaning on her vehicle. Even she had a bit of uncertainty in her demeanor. “For sure, not aliens, ok? At least, not with me and the groups I hang out with…I’d say the most intelligent speculation on who the Builders are came from this guy I met online last week. Actually, Richie, I’m meeting him here! He’s supposed to follow me to attend one of the late-night meetings one of my groups is having tonight!”
Ritch gave a wondering look.
“Don’t worry, Richie; the Shepherd won’t have to crackdown on us…we’re meeting outdoors, and we have our own system to make sure everyone who attends is not sick with anything major—”
“Nor bombers, I hope,” Ritch said, giving a friendly, warning look!
“Come on, Richie…”
They both turned to look as a vehicle drove up and parked nearby the entryway to the factory’s gates.
“That’s him,” Alma said. “Come on…I think you two should meet.”
Ritch nodded as he placidly followed.

They weaved between a couple of parked cars and moving vehicles. Alma leaned toward Ritch a little and said with a lowered tone, “He goes by Black Sheep…get it?”
Ritch was already snickering. “The black sheep bucking against the shepherd…Ok!”
They passed about three Kiosks on the way to the gate; they were half-way surprised they weren’t told to stop by any of them. The duo walked through the opened, re-enforced steel gate as cars slowly paraded into and out of the plant’s grounds…
And Ritch stopped dead in his tracks…
Alma almost didn’t notice until Black Sheep pointed out that Ritch was behind her! “Ritch…come on, man! What’s wrong?”
Ritch’s eyes stayed on the man leaning against his own car; waiting for Alma and Ritch. “Paulo…?”
The older man gave a salute; a wide smile shone through his facemask via his eyes. “Good work, my sister…I’ve been expecting you, Ritch.”


Chapter Two

The meeting that Ritch attended with one of his co-workers, Alma Salina, was better attended for a late-night, Wednesday, than he thought it would be. Something like twenty people! The gathering was not far from downtown; a few minutes’ drive from the towering buildings and close to the lake that was buttressing the downtown area.
The guest speaker was Black Sheep; an up and coming leader within the movement amongst humans that were against the Shepherd system that had been a shadow governing entity over humans since the Great Pandemic of 2020, a few decades ago…
Ritch, of course, had met Black Sheep at one of the city’s super-stores on that same day. As cliché as it seemed to Ritch, later, the two meeting one another was not a coincidence of the Universe! Alma, one of the young Human Resources office workers at Ritch’s factory job, had been a long-time member of that particular group. He, being in the factory’s ombudsman’s department, was a professional friend of hers and occasionally they talked politics. It must have been Alma that suggested to Black Sheep that the group needed someone like Ritch, whom had a position of authority at their factory. From what Ritch gathered after asking Alma, Alma had told Black Sheep about some of their conversations at work. And how Ritch potentially could be recruited into the movement. Black Sheep suggested that she should ‘shepherd’ the conversations she had with Ritch at the factory more toward the politics of the Shepherd Kiosk network that was, now, the shadow governing system of humans, in terms of day-to-day living.

It was well after 1:00 AM and the meeting had just dispersed! The local leader of the group had reminded everyone to don their masks, since there was a new epidemic that was brewing, in an adjoining state. There were the standards jokes about it from some in the group, but, in the end, all members and guest speaker-Black Sheep all slipped on facemasks before leaving the meeting hall.
On Earth, it was these kinds of epidemics that humans had learned to live with since the Great Pandemic: as if the viral, global spread of some diseases were storms for society to endure over and over again…
There were a few others that milled about after the meeting, carrying tributary discussions on how to fight against the meddling, ubiquitous Kiosks implanted strategically throughout every major city in the world. Black Sheep was just finishing up his one-on-one conversation with Ritch, while Alma stood by; more for moral support than anything else, especially since she was the one whom invited Ritch to the meeting. Black Sheep and the young office worker could both tell that Ritch was definitely not a radical warrior, by his guarded questions during the meeting earlier, and his seemingly reserved disposition. But the group and the movement needed all the support they could get…

“Well, now it’s off to Fargo,” Black Sheep said with a slight triumphant singing to it, though muffled through his facemask. The few stragglers in the mid-sized meeting hall applauded and whistled. Several thanked the sixty-ish man as he waved them all goodbye.
“Mind if we walk you out,” Alma asked; Ritch standing by, smiling, after having a good time at the late meeting.
“Of course, you can, Alma!”
The three slowly walked over to Black Sheep’s car in the deep, early-morning. That part of town, at that time of night, only the blaring of trains and sirens of emergency vehicles were usually what one heard the most.
“So…what is it about our dear Shepherd that you can’t quite let go of, son,” Paulo asked Ritch without even looking at him as the three approached the older man’s car.
Ritch looked over at Alma with surprise, but she would give him no support. In fact, her brows were raised over her eyes and mask as she looked at Ritch. As if her very expression was asking the same question to Ritch as Black Sheep just had done!
“I hope none of you, here, mistake my questions as a translation that I’m ok with the Shepherd system!”
“Then I don’t understand why you seem reluctant to join our cause, Ritch,” Black Sheep put to him; by that time, he was fully facing Ritch and Alma. His personal device and sheets of paper that he had taken notes on during the meeting were all tucked underneath one of Paulo’s arms. “It’s not like we’re one of those violent organizations we hear about on the news—going around and lobbing bombs at the Kiosks as if they were bowling pins! This group is about regaining human independence from the Shepherd, Richie.”
Alma threw in, “not starting a war with them.”
There is that 'Them', again, Ritch thought to himself, not completely satisfied with Black Sheep’s nor the group’s speculation as to who was constructing the Kiosks that dotted every main city on the planet! Going to war with the Kiosks, or with whomever is building the damned things, he also wondered about.
Feeling a bit ganged up on, Ritch held up both hands. “Yeah, I get all that. I’m just…I don’t know, guys; just look at us, now, with all our masks and city-wide alerts for these so-called virus storms we get in modern times! I’m old enough to remember, Paulo, when it was rare for most of the richer nations to even have epidemics, much less pandemics. These days now, we get epidemic warnings like we get tornado warnings in this country! You want to know part of the reason why that is? Because in every society there are idiots who think science doesn’t apply to them and they can do whatever they want!”

Perhaps they were wrong about Ritch being so reserved, both Black Sheep and Alma silently thought as they glanced at each other while Ritch ranted on.
“Look, if I disappoint either of you, I’m sorry. But I just don’t see life on Earth being any better without the Shepherd…you may not like what they represent, or you may feel that your personal agency is being restrained by the Shepherd, but at the very least, Paulo and Alma, the Network is keeping some of the diseases and crimes down in every society, according to several government agencies…”
Ritch seemed to have, literally, exhausted himself in just that short time of letting them know how he really felt about Earth’s “savior.” Indeed, that word, savior, was one of the reasons why some within the restorative sovereign movement, or the RSM, worked so hard against the Shepherd system. From their view, there was only one savior for humanity. Though, interestingly enough, it depended on which religion those types within the resistance belonged to!

“I’m sorry,” Ritch finally said after a long silence between the three of them. Ritch gave the universal half-head bow, plus with his clasped hands partially going up toward his forehead—a new gesture of bidding goodbye adopted throughout the world as a result of the Great Pandemic. That way, humans did not touch one another, should any of them carry one of the prevalent diseases of the day! “I can’t do this…I listened to what you and this group had to say, Paulo, and –“
“Ritch,” Black Sheep intervened; shaking his head with sympathy, “it’s ok…if we couldn’t peacefully disagree with you and the, literally, billions of others that see the Shepherd as you do, then what kind of movement would we be, right?”
Ritch glanced at Alma, his work-friend; making sure he did not offend her. He was relieved to see—via her eyes and brow above her facemask, that she seemed content with Ritch not joining the RSM.
Within a couple of minutes, Ritch was back in his own vehicle on the meeting hall’s parking lot and drove off toward his apartment complex on the other side of town in the deep night.

A month later…
The Shepherd system had determined, about a week earlier, to lift population-movements in certain sections throughout North America. The most recent virus storm, that Ritch had referred to a few weeks before with Alma and Black Sheep, was at a low enough level that citizens in certain regions of United States, Canada, and Mexico could all have their restrictions lifted.
Like millions of other citizens throughout the continent, Ritch took advantage of the freedom to travel as they saw fit—by plane, long road trips in their cars, or a simple walk out in various cities that no longer required citizens to wear facemasks! Yet another, relatively new custom that had come out of the Shepherd era after the Great Pandemic: Public celebrations!
Somehow, in the early years after the Kiosks first started to appear throughout, at first, the biggest cities of the world, humans would eagerly wait for the 12:00 AM countdown that the Kiosks displayed; letting citizens know when it was officially safe to carry on without facemasks and that said virus storm was officially over…
Mayhem ensued! Similar to the way humans used to do after a major sporting event took place and a hometown’s team had won! Ritch felt, at fifty, he was far too old for that, anymore. So, instead, the last few years, he would treat himself to a getaway in some other city for merely two or three days…

But the Shepherd Kiosks, the ramrod, seven-foot tall piece of technology fitted with flashing monitors with directions and regulations via simple graphics, would flash their Yellow-Mode signage to remind the populace to stay alert.
And that was why Ritch, on that particular day, while out on a getaway in downtown Phoenix, Arizona, was alarmed when he saw several Kiosks suddenly flash bright red simultaneously!
Ritch had just bought himself coffee and was about to explore an open market. But like the thousands of citizens of Phoenix and many tourists in that portion of downtown, he froze on the spot to watch and listen to what the Shepherd was advising the citizens:
“This is a Delta Advisory,” the Shepherd system spoke via the speakers within the Kiosks scattered throughout downtown; it’s collective “voice” was low and male in tone, “all citizens and visitors must take cover, now…this is a security alert…the public enforcement agency will be using lethal methods…take cover, take cover, take cover…This is a Delta Advisory; all citizens and visitors…” and the message repeated non-stop!
Panic took over for much of the public! Screams and loud communications between office workers and visiting families filled Phoenix’s downtown air, now! The traffic signals were over-ridden by the Shepherd system and only certain major streets were open for vehicular traffic! The traffic kiosks were set on Green during the whole Delta Advisory phase, in order to expedite getting the public to safety, plus getting them out of the way for the police to do their job without putting the citizens’ lives at risk!

“What’s going on,” Ritch heard an office worker ask a co-worker as a small group of them quickly gathered their personal things from an outdoor lunch table they were sitting at.
“This has nothing to do with any of the virus storms, does it,” another within that group asked; more of an observation.
“Never mind all that,” another put poignantly, “let’s go…come on!”
That scene was repeated all around Ritch at that moment! And like some of the other tourists he saw—standing slack-jawed and looking about—he wasn’t quite sure where he was supposed to go! Since he had flown to Phoenix, his vehicle was in his garage at home in his hometown. He had taken a hired ride to get to his hometown’s airport. And now, obviously, tourists and local citizens without a vehicle had no choice but to improvise and find cover anywhere they could in the downtown area!
Ritch and the other tourists all finally dashed at hiding places—some made it to restaurants before the managers locked their doors; other tourists and locals jammed themselves behind large garbage receptacles or other public fixtures…

The audio warning from the Shepherd had never stopped! Now that Ritch had found secured cover behind a public dumpster in a nearby alley—as did several other people at other dumpsters just yards away—he decided to link to the local news out of Phoenix with his personal device and see what live coverage he could get from them. The news media, in such dangerous events, usually utilized their AI air-drones. Ritch was able to find three sources on the media network via satellites.
He kept his pd’s settings where he could watch all three live news castings at the same time. He made sure to keep the volume to his pd very low; should whatever security danger it was come near the alley he was hiding in!
It took about another five minutes of waiting before Ritch was able to see on the three news casts at least three scores of police vehicles drive up to the city block that Ritch found himself on. The officers, dressed in protective gear, shot out of each of those vehicles; brandished their guns!
The other tourists and some of the locals that were hiding in the same alley as Ritch must have been watching on their personal devices as well. For Ritch heard gasps right at the moment the police officers exited their vehicles.
In one of the media footage, the scene panned out from the live video of the scene: the cops taking their combat positions while Ritch could see the tall Kiosks in the shot; the unmovable monuments they were to humanity since the latter days of the Great Pandemic. And in that same video footage from one of the media aerial AI-drones, Ritch saw a tidal wave of humanity running straight for the Kiosks all over downtown Phoenix!

Now that Ritch thought on it, about a month ago he had attended one of those restorative sovereign meetings with a co-worker, off the clock, of course. Ritch didn’t think much of it at that time, but he remembers hearing Black Sheep—one of the RSM’s leading figures in the world, seeking independence from the Shepherd network—say something like:
“…A great tidal wave will come someday, brothers and sisters. Only this tide will turn from blue to red. Not due to any political affiliation, but from the fight of humanity’s freedom!”
And the first shots of America’s war against the Shepherd echoed among Phoenix’s towering edifices…


Chapter Three

The battle—riot; revolt?—lasted into early the next morning in downtown Phoenix! Ritch Falls was caught right in the middle of it during all those hours! Both literally and figuratively. He had always been more of a moderate person when it came to politics and social issues.
Back in 2020, when the Great Pandemic hit the world for the first time, he was in his twenties. Young, but he was not one of the youth that had gone out in America’s streets in protest—sparked by racial inequities, via police officers’ involvement with an African-American man’s death in Minneapolis, Minnesota; which spilled over to other societal problems that had always been simmering in America back then. Indeed, it turned into a global movement…
Just as the current insurgency, Ritch, now fifty, found himself in. Another global movement. But this time Ritch was stuck in the middle of downtown Phoenix, where citizens that had strongly opposed the shadowy governance of the Shepherd, fought against the municipal enforcement agencies that had worked with that Shepherd network.
The seven-foot, computer screen-clad Kiosks were not a danger themselves. Indeed, it was believed by Ritch’s generation that the main reason for the Kiosks’ sudden appearance in major cities all over the world at the start of the Great Pandemic was to regulate humans all over the world; given how the COVID-19 disease was not being controlled very well by the then-world governments. What was seen more as a threat by global citizens were the ruling governments and their enforcement institutions that had utilized the communications capabilities of that Shepherd network—from mass civilian surveillance to publicly stopping citizens from walking public places all over the world when some of them were sick, beyond the simple Cold, of course…
Even at that point, during the citizens’ revolt in Phoenix’s downtown, Ritch just didn’t view the Shepherd system as so bad that it justified the civilian battle against the law enforcement agencies. But that was all moot at that point…
Ritch had turned off his personal device again, to conserve its battery power. The pd’s had wireless-charging capabilities. But being stuck in the same alley during the whole night while the pedestrian battle with the cops was going on, he had no way of accessing a charging kiosk.

“My pd’s battery is down to twenty percent,” a woman’s voice suddenly appeared around from Ritch’s hiding place, behind a large street dumpster. Around the alley, the street battle between the civilians and the police and other enforcement agencies was still reverberating against the alley’s walls, though not quite as severe as hours ago, during the darkest of night.
Ritch got up off the paved alley, brushed himself off, and looked around the dumpster. The woman, her husband standing at her side, smiling, was holding up her personal device while still looking at it. They were one of the several families that had found cover in the same alley as Ritch the night before; just as the revolt blew up. Most likely, like Ritch, they probably were some middle-classers from out of state, visiting Phoenix, and did not have their personal vehicles with them to be able to drive as far away from the battle scene.
“Yeah, that’s why I turn my pd off from time to time,” Ritch stated conversationally. He had just placed his device into one of his slack’s back pockets. “Ritch…”
“Thomas,” the slender, thirty-something male said; smile still on his face.
“I’m Tamara…I see that London’s enforcers have taken their streets back!”
“Ohh,” Ritch said with genuine surprise. “Last I checked from one of those global sources, it looked like some of the crowds were heading toward Parliament!”
Apparently taking Ritch’s soft advice, Tamara had just turned off her personal device before responding. “Probably sent in reinforcements. All this would end, here in Phoenix, if the authorities would take a page from the UK! Same damn thing is happening everywhere on the globe…New York, LA and Chicago…Tokyo, Toronto and Vancouver, Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, Berlin, Sao Paulo…”
“Something like twenty shot dead in Lagos,” the husband said with a worried look on his face. “Makes me wonder how far all this will go?”
The couple noticed Ritch winced a bit to himself, but with a slight smile. Noticing this, Ritch explained.
“Speaking of Sao Paulo…I met this organizer; from that restorative sovereign movement, I guess what all this is about. I attended one of his meetings about a month ago. He goes by his street name, Black Sheep. He and a friend of mine tried to get me…”
Now, it was the couple that had an inside thought; the husband and wife looking at each other with surprised faces.
“Did you say, Black Sheep,” Tamara asked Ritch, with almost an accusatory tone to it!
Ritch looked at them both, curious where the conversation was going next. “Yeah…he said his real name is –”
“Paulo Ferdinand,” Tamara finished for Ritch. Apparently, she knew a bit more about Paulo than Ritch did, because he never even got the man’s last name! “He’s some retired, disgruntled engineer from Ohio or somewhere out there…Tommie and I saw one of those media special videos on the—what did they call them, again: restorative sovereign movement—RSM? Anyway, we watched it while on the plane coming here. Your friend was one of the featured organizers on the show!”

Ritch thought for a bit. The noises from the street battle between citizens that were in revolt and the law enforcement agencies had clearly died down by that point, as the families hiding in the alley could tell.
“Did this news feature say about how many organizers there are,” Ritch asked; his eyes darting toward the other families beginning to pop up from all their hiding places in the alley.
“So many, Ritch,” Thomas said, his head shaking for the situation at hand. “Too many for the authorities to even keep track. Of course, that means they dragged in the Shepherd to deal with this movement!”
During the lull in their conversation, the couple’s two young children, a girl and a boy—both around ten—ran up to their parents and embraced them. Clearly, things were changing outside of the alley. Now, all families in hiding were coming out, brushing themselves off and gathering their personal items. Some turned on their resting pds and checked for the latest updates on the insurrection.
“So, you met one of those organizers,” Tamara brought up again. She seemed less accusatory, but a curious look came across her countenance. “On that newscast, the issue of who’s manufacturing the Kiosks came up…did this Black Sheep mention anything about who the Builders were, Ritch?”
Now it was Ritch who had the curious face! “The Builders…? That’s a new one for me! Obviously, Paulo didn’t say anything to me about them. What did this newscast say about these Builders?”
A shrug from the short woman; her son at her side. “Not much…just a name the media is using for whoever the manufacturer is—”
“Or, are,” Thomas input.
“Right,” Tamara agreed. “Could be more than one manufacturer! It would make sense; given how fast those Kiosks spread throughout the Earth over the years! Anyway, the journalists on that video yesterday said it’s most likely some kind of loose network of organizations that put all those Kiosks together and ship them out to the cities…somehow, anonymously, so no one will figure out their location.”

And there it was again…They; Their; Them…it drove Ritch crazy to hear Tamara refer to whoever the Builders were so vaguely. It reminded Ritch of his most recent conversation he had with his work friend, Alma, about the rather sketchy premise the RSM had about the Shepherd!
“So…” Ritch was making sure he followed the idea of these Builders, “some loosely-affiliated organization that’s working on behalf of humanity, to make sure the entire world does not suffer from another pandemic or major crimes, conspired to assemble all these big Kiosks throughout the whole planet to regulate humans from spreading major sickness and prevent more terroristic acts—which is mostly working, I might add—and somehow they are the evil villains in this comic book? Do I have the outline for the story right?”
Ritch’s head went back and forth between the couple and their kids. The couple glanced at one another.
“Yeah, I have to admit, I’m a bit on the fence about the Shepherd, too,” Thomas said as he lifted his daughter and held her against his chest. “We’re just saying what’s being reported, Ritch. But, actually, you do bring up some good points I never thought of before!”
Tamara gave a conciliatory nod; her head looking out beyond the alley.

And from the street, a police officer spotted the impromptu encampment of people in that particular alley!
“This is Officer Thirty-Three,” everyone in the alley could hear the young woman talking over her comm, “I’ve got civilians hiding out…Green light, that’s a green light on civilians.”
The officer, geared up in what appeared to be riot paraphernalia, then spoke up for everyone in the alley to hear her. “Hi, folks, I’m Officer Thirty-Three…we finally got everything under control with the rioters from last night and you are all safe to go!”
There was a big cheer from the several families in the alley! The officer nodded her head several times to the families in appreciation of their gratitude.
“Alright, folks,” the officer said while gesturing toward the street and out of the alley, “if we can just have you all exit this way and Phoenix PD will treat you all to a nice chauffeured ride out of this battle zone…That’s it; careful there, we got some nails and stuff around here…”
The officer went all the way into the alley to double check whether or not anyone was still there. By the time Officer Thirty-Three came out of the alley, all the families and Ritch were on the large, modern bus that the city police department supplied for them. The officer tapped the side of the bus as a signal to the officer driving the bus. The doors to the bus were shut and the bus drove off; Officer Thirty-Three waving to everyone inside.

Forty-Five minutes later…
Ritch was awakened by Thomas, the husband of Tamara; from the alley. Ritch had requested taking one of the back seats of the luxury bus so he could stretch out and sleep. The previous night the pedestrian street battle kept him awake the whole night!
“What’s up, Thomas,” Ritch asked groggily, sitting up in the padded bus seat.
“We passed Sun City West not too long ago…”
Ritch just sat there; waiting to see what else his new friend would say to him. “And that’s a problem because…?”
The younger man glanced behind him, toward the front of the bus; then put his eyes back on Ritch. “I don’t know how many times you’ve been to Phoenix, Ritch, but Tamara and I have family out here. Of all Phoenix’s airports, none of them are Northwest of the city…”
“…so, where the hell are we going?”
Thomas solemnly nodded.
Ritch excused himself as he got up and walked past Thomas, down the wide bus’s aisle, and up to where the bus driver was.
“Hi, officer,” Ritch said conversationally, grasping onto one of the handrails above his head. It was still light out, but the Arizona sunshine was starting to stretch shadows a bit more, as the day wore on.
The officer nodded with a smile, in turn, keeping his hands on the steering wheel. He was wearing dark sunglasses against that Arizona sunshine.
“Say, um…we’ve been riding for, what, nearly an hour now? Just curious which airport you were taking us to?”
“Oh, we’re almost at our destination, sir!” The officer kept that wide smile. “Would you all like some music? Who wants to start off with a choice, first?”
There were smatterings of Country! Narc Hop! Latest Pop, please! Whatever; just nothing too hard…
Ritch gave up. Now some of the families’ children ran up to sit up to the closest seats to the front so they could chat with the friendly bus driver!
A call came over the bus’s radio…The driver answered, despite the chattering children behind him.
“This is Officer Thirty-Three, go ahead…” The conversation proceeded.
Ritch froze right in the middle of the aisle! Tamara and Thomas noticed, along with the other families on the bus. He held up one pointing index finger, indicating he had to take care of something.
Ritch asked a couple of the kids if he could have his original place back, in the front section where he could talk with the friendly bus driver.
“Say, um…Officer Thirty-Three, correct?” Ritch made sure to hold onto the handrails.
“Yes, sir…” The officer’s smile dimmed just a bit.
“I don’t mean to be nosey, but I overheard the young officer woman that found us this morning refer to herself as Officer Thirty-Three…Look, I’m just an office-jerk, but even I know that officers have assigned names or numbers to each of them…”
Ritch purposefully left his question opened. Several more seconds went by, and the officer said nothing. But there was a commotion happening toward the back of the bus!
It was the families. They all had told their respective children to return and the whole bus exploded into islands of conversations!
Ritch found his two friends, the couple.
“What’s going on?”
“Ritch,” Tamara put to him; her face having fear all over it, “what is that facility?”
He turned to face the direction Tamara and Thomas were looking…and off the main road, 60, there was a good-sized compound; perhaps around three storeys in height. Even from that distance in a moving bus, Ritch could see vans, buses, and other vehicles parked or lined up; some having a line of people from the vehicles that stretched to the facility….
“Oh, my god,” Ritch found himself saying.

Fin.
(Image: HD Wallpaper)

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