Hater

the case,' the politician says quickly.
    'There's no published evidence to suggest that's the case,' the middle-aged man snaps, 'but how much unpublished information is being withheld? This is unprecedented. With an escalation in trouble of this scale there has to be an identifiable cause, doesn't there? For this to be happening independently in so many different geographical regions there has to be an identifiable cause.'
    'If you look at what we've seen over the last few days,' the politician says, shaking his head, 'there has been a steady increase in the recorded levels of violence around major cities where there are high population levels. This is wholly expected. With situations like this the more people who are concentrated in a particular geographic area, the more likely it is that trouble will develop there...'
    I stop listening. I sense that this bureaucrat is launching into some pre-arranged spiel in which he'll no doubt deny all cover-ups and hidden agendas. This sounds like more bullshit. The other people taking part in the debate challenge him but, although he squirms and struggles to keep control, he ultimately remains tight-lipped. I get the feeling that this programme might have been arranged as a public relations exercise but it's failing miserably. The politician's unease and the way he's blatantly avoiding the questions people are putting to him means one of two things. Either the government knows full well what's happening and is simply choosing not to tell the public, or the authorities genuinely don't have a clue. Both alternatives are equally frightening.
    Twenty minutes more of the news channel and my eyes are starting to close. The debate is over and the headlines are back on. They say that the military may be drafted in to help maintain law and order if the police do become over-stretched as the grey-haired panellist suggested in the debate earlier. They also say that the problem is largely limited to major cities and there are, as yet, no reports of it spreading to other countries. Most worryingly of all, there's talk of an after-dark curfew and other restrictions being introduced to keep people off the streets and out of each other's faces.
    It's what isn't being said that bothers me. I'm just concerned that no-one seems to have a clue what's going on.

TUESDAY
    vi

    Jeremy Pearson felt like he was about to be sick. He'd been okay when he'd been prepped for the operation, but now he was actually lying on the table in the operating theatre with people crowding around him and machines beeping and buzzing and that huge round light hanging over him he was beginning to feel nauseous and faint. I should have gone for the general anaesthetic not a local, he thought to himself as Dr Panesar the surgeon walked towards him. I'm paying enough for this operation as it is, a general anaesthetic wouldn't have cost that much more…
    'Okay, Mr Pearson,' he said through his green cloth facemask, 'how are you feeling?'
    'Not too good,' Pearson mumbled, too afraid to move. He tensed his body underneath the sheet and gown which covered him.
    'This won't take too long,' Dr Panesar explained, ignoring his patient's nerves. 'You're the fourth vasectomy I've done today and none of them have lasted much longer than half an hour so far. We'll have you out of here before you know it.'
    Pearson didn't respond. He was feeling faint. Maybe it was the heat in the theatre or was it just the thought of what was about to happen that was making him feel like this? Was this normal? Was he having a reaction to the anaesthetic they'd used to numb the feeling in his balls?
    'I don't feel…' he tried to say to the female nurse who stood next to him, holding onto his arm. She looked down and, seeing that he was struggling, slipped an oxygen mask over his face.
    'You'll be fine,' she soothed. 'Have a bit of air and try and think about something else.'
    Pearson tried to answer but his words were muffled under the mask. How can I think about something else when someone's about to cut into my balls?
    'Do you follow cricket?' an older male nurse on his other side asked. Pearson nodded. 'Have you seen the tour report today? We're not doing too badly by all accounts.'
    The oxygen was beginning to take the edge off his nausea. That's better. Starting to feel more relaxed now…
    'Okay, Mr Pearson,' Dr Panesar said brightly, looking up from the area of the operation. 'We're ready to start now. I explained what I'm going to do in