A shiv'ing in Magnolia ...

"Why do they have to live there? Under the overpass?", said the middle-aged woman real-estate tycoon, sipping her martini, as she looks out over the city of Seattle.

"We paid good money for this home, a lot of money, and these bums ... who are they?", said the CEO of a local bank ...

For over 3 weeks, the national EBT card system (food stamps) had stopped working. Food riots had broken out in Chicago, LA, NYC, and Baltimore - and other cities as well, though, because of martial law, the news has been "locked down." The government decided after the first few days of riots that "news of riots" only made the riots worse - but this did little to stem the tide. With over 150 million Americans out of work, and a paltry minority still working - and barely able to live, because of inflation - it seemed that the virus of anger, disgust, discontent, required no medium to spread.

"Well ... it's an issue of education ...", said the University of Washington professor.

"It's about technology, we need universal basic income ...", said the BITCOIN BARON ...

But the fires could be seen in the distance - Kent, West Seattle, parts of Ballard, much of the city was in chaos. The murder rate was not measured or publicized, but it was estimated that over 100 people were being shot, every hour now, resulting in 300 deaths per day - with the rate of murder, violence, only rising.

"I think we need to return to old fashioned values!", said the grumpy-grump retiree, to the younger man whose dad died in Vietnam, flying planes, which dropped agent orange on men, women, children.

And these fictions, the figments, these well-to-do members of Seattle's elite, were having a "riot party", as they drank their martinis, and Manhattans, and craft beer and wine ... they mocked the broken, the sad, the human waste - the people driven mad by several decades of "house flipping" and "easy money", all of which was just beyond their reach.

And one lonely divorcee, 53 years old, dressed in a sheer black dress, wandered away from the main party to smoke a cigarette. Outside the streets were empty, most of the inhabitants of their world were bunker'ing inside - with stockpiles of food, water, recently purchased on Amazon or from COSTCO.

Her name was Rachel, and as she smoked her cig, she noticed some strange and darkly clad figure moving towards her ... she didn't worry ... "why should I worry, the cops have a cordon set up around us ...", but the figure walked closer.

Her friends were laughing inside ...

Laughing, smiling, drinking, as Seattle burned.

And she, with her cigarette, tried to make out this human looking thing, moving her way ...

At 50 feet, she could see it was a man, too covered in dirt and filth and feces to know the man's age ... wearing a cloak of pain, of loss, of broken dreams ... she didn't know this specter, this "person" was human garbage to her.

"You can't be here you know! There's a curfew! This neighborhood is under special protection!"

But the man moved onward ...

Rachel had spearheaded the "Seatle Anti-Gun League", so she had no weapon, only her wit ... a wit not near sharp enough for this circumstance.

"Listen buddy, I'll call the cops!", Rachel screamed - not loud enough to draw the attention of her fellow drunken partiers inside the fashionable Magnolia home ...

At 10 feet, the rumpled, straggler - the homeless hobo-phantom - stopped and asked "may I have a smoke?"

Rachel was incensed - she'd worked hard, flipping houses, managing dark financial pools, figuring out ways to outsource companies to Vietnam ... she wasn't going to give up her cigs ... even though she had 20 cartons at home.

"Sir, why can't you just get a job?"

The man looked up from the ground, no longer broken ...

The man looked right at Rachel, some tiny flame of pride returning ...

He pulled a long carving knife from his jacket, something he'd stolen from a burning condo building on Capital Hill.

He rushed Rachel, pushing her to the ground, stabbing her over and over and over again ...

Rachel screamed, but merely spouted blood into the dark Seattle sky ...

The noise of sirens drowning her out ...

The sins of pirates forbade any kindness, any compassion ...

The strange man, covered in raggedly clothes, wiped his shiv on the dying woman's body ...

He wandered on down the street ...

Disappearing, as he arrived.

(looking for a cig)