During the tumultuous times when Brexit was touch and go, I wrote this piece in frustration during a lunch break.
I find it interesting re-reading it and thinking how Brexit, after all of its gaffes and delays, may genuinely never fully happen back then. For better or worse, that has since changed.
I hope that you enjoy it!
The year is 2376. We have finally found peace and conquered the stars. Unified under the global banner of ‘Human’ we’ve abandoned patriotism to instead celebrate the cultures that have propelled humanity, rather than being divided by them.
In a metro city in the northwest region of Eurafrica, some celebrations take place…
“Papa, why do we wear these silly wigs?” a young boy asked.
“It is tradition.” Replied the patriarch.
The man adjusted the messy, blonde wig perched on his head. It was cheap and uncomfortable, as was tradition.
He surveyed the scene in front of him with his son. At the foot of the hill that he and the other onlookers stood on was a circle of actors. The actors were dressed in the same silly wigs as the onlookers as well as outfits of bright yellow in the historical style called “business suit”. They danced gaily in a circle against a royal blue backdrop, throwing ballot papers at the audience and chanting over again “Strong and stable. Brexit means Brexit. No deal. Leave and remain.”
The man felt a tug on his trouser leg. It was his boy.
“Daddy. What is a Brexit?”
It was a question that plagued him and all of his peers for centuries. Historical texts that survived the Great Data Wipe of 2099 were spotty at best. Conflicting information, even from the same sources within days of each other, gave allusions to political unrest that lasted for many years. But like all traditions, the true meaning was lost to time and all that was left was what they were looking at right now. On the 29 March, year after year, humans in the northern Eurafrica region celebrated their ‘Extension Parade’.
“You know,” the father began “I don’t know.”
And it was the truth.