"As you were unable to supply a decent answer as to why I should keep this absurd metal plate on my car, I'm returning it."
photo by @therealpaul
(continued from Chapter 2. of Fictionarium)
==================================
Some of the people in the room had now gathered around the counter to hear more clearly what the smart lady was saying. In the video, the DMV employee is now gingerly holding the license plate, slowly backing away from her station.
The cop, clearly nervous, is filmed making his way behind the safety of the counter, and can be heard on the video with a fake chuckle saying "We have laws in this town for a reason... we'll see how you all do without licenses."
Beulah, still speaking quietly, says simply "I believe you're right, sir." *
In the unedited video, a well-dressed gentleman approaches the counter and, darting a glance at the cop, begins speaking. "She's got a point. The reason for a lot of the laws is simply to give the cops something to do. Your license isn't about driving, it's all about control. All the roads and schools, they're still all paid for by the Science Board anyway. This money here has never gone to that. People seem to think the Fictionarium Project ended long time ago, but it didn't ever end. I guess we're not supposed to talk about it. Maybe you've never even heard of the Project, but you are all subjects of it."
The crowd was bunched now at the counter as he continued: "Don't worry miss, my whole family thinks I'm nuts when I mention the Fictionarium, they... where'd she go?".
Beulah had left the building, and now even Meg, the DMV lady, had vanished. In her sheer panic, Meg had decided to opt out of this ensuing reality.
This was not at all an ordinary day.
The excited crowd that had gathered at Meg's counter on that curious afternoon had become suddenly engaged in deep discussions of lofty new things. They hadn't noticed the drawers of cash, and they hadn't noticed that the policeman and the entire staff of the DMV were suddenly gone.
The strangers in the room continued to speak to each other. They explored the idea that their ordinary Automotive Licensing and Registration Service was no service at all, but was simply an organized extortion racket armed with teams of enforcement goons. The strangers in the room looked at each other. The Board of Scientists, which no one ever talked about, was actually talked about.
Nobody had really noticed that a nearby afternoon storm had started to dampen the parking lot outside, and they hadn't really noticed that they had, just that day, begun to truly live in their town.
Moving some of the folding chairs out of their uniform rows and into a large circle, they had not planned that day to peacefully take over a public building, but it was agreed by everyone involved that it had just happened, and was indeed happening still.
This was certainly no ordinary day.