Disclaimer: Please, if it's not too much trouble, keep in mind that this is a creative platform. I deal in humans and words. Not politics.

Act II: Servitude Inglorious

"So what, you're just going to give up on them?"

She choked over the shutter. "I'm not giving up, Thomas—"

"You are. That's what you do every time you lose control over something. It's what you're doing now."

She sat down on the log— more like tripped backward and fell on it. She rubbed her face, but it didn't do much good, just smeared the tears around.

"My... my vote doesn't even count, Thomas. None of ours do. This is a republic."

She looked up because he stopped pacing. Whenever he stopped moving, danger was coming.

"They don't count? Two hundred plus years of freedom don't mean anything at all?"

She tried to form a reply but he snarled before she could, "You're saying people have died and are dying in uniform for nothing? Democracy is all just some illusion?"

"No— that's not what I—" She stood, reaching out to him, a little desperate. "Listen—"

"You listen. People have fought and died to protect the freedoms you wallow in. You've never known any different. You can't understand what it's like to live in any other kind of society. People are dying right now so that you get to fill out that stupid little piece of paper. I won't let you give up on them. I don't care if you feel like you're doing any good or not. I'm not letting you give up just because you don't have an absolute grasp on the situation. Not this time. You're checking a box. I don't care which one. But you're doing it. Because this is a matter of perpetuating an institution. What happens if everybody decides to give up like you? No one votes? ...Any trace of democracy? All gone. You're going to vote if I have to force you there at sword point."

"Thomas—"

He pushed past her and Jane couldn't even turn and watch her brother go. She just sat back on the log and caught her face in her hands.