Anarchy & Balthazar’s Kingdom
I was in central London, on the second floor of a classic building that had a view that overlooked the streets of Soho. It was towards the end of the first day of a conference. This event had a familiar feeling, as if it was part of a university or music college. I’d been working at this conference as a general member of staff, and now I was thinking about making my way back to London Waterloo so that I could catch the train home.
I needed to do a little bit of cleaning up first. There were flyers and posters on tables that needed to be sorted. The majority of the people had left the building as it was now the early evening. Looking through the large windows towards the busy street below, I could see that the light was gradually darkening.
Eventually I made my way to Waterloo station. On the platform, I could tell that something was wrong. There’d be no trains today. Members of the public seemed to act as if nothing was amiss, however I could tell that whatever it was that had affected the trains was much larger than just basic signalling problems or general disruption.
Knowing that there’d be little point in trying to make it home, I decided to go back to the building in Central London. I’d need to be there tomorrow morning anyway, and perhaps I could sleep on one of the sofas or secluded areas of the building. It would be uncomfortable, but it was potentially the sensible thing to do if something was seriously wrong.
Returning to the second floor of the building, I could tell that something bad was happening. London had seemed crowded and frantic. Now I was looking from the window down to the streets below, and I could see that there were far more people there than I’d realised. Had all the public transport stopped functioning? I predicted that eventually some sort of riot might occur.
After a while, more people who’d previously attended the conference returned. Perhaps it was because they also had no way of returning home. Before long, there were at least fifty of us in the space, and it was getting quite noisey. As I’d predicted, the streets below had descended into anarchy. I could hear the sounds of breaking glass, police sirens, and screams.
I was standing with a group of eight women from the conference, and there was another man to my side. They were all very concerned, and increasing numbers of people were now crowding into the space, including people who hadn’t been at the conference. We’d positioned ourselves at the far end of the space. In the distance I could hear a commotion. It sounded like some angry men had entered the building, and a fight had broken out. Looking through the crowd, I could see a group of men brandishing simple weapons. They were shouting towards the group. Some men were fighting back. There was a panicked commotion.
I felt that it was my duty to try to protect the group around me. I instructed them to follow me. We walked further away from the crowd, through a door and into a dark area, and into a very cramped kitchen space. The sounds of carnage from the space behind us was increasingly loud through the doors. I searched for an exit, however all I could find was an door to a metal walkway that opened out into the outside air. There was no way to climb down to the street below, and the sounds of open London sounded even more chaotic and dangerous. I could hear screams and gunshots. There was no choice but to return to the dark kitchen area, and eventually the main space.
Returning to our original location, it appeared that some of the members of the conference had constructed shielded areas by turning the tables onto their sides so that people could hide behind them. Plastic chairs were scattered around the space and I could tell that some glass had been shattered over the carpet. There was still a commotion, and the room was definitely unsafe.
There were five remaining members of my group, and we scuttled around the remainder of the building, however before long it became clear that nowhere was safe any more. The scene had descended into chaos. There were men with painted faces, torn and burned clothing, shouting and gunshots.
We spent the next few hours hiding behind tables and cowering in dark corners of the space. The building had been taken over by some kind of gang, although it was unclear how organised they were, or if they were even working as a collective or as individuals. The chaos was beginning to soften slightly.
Eventually the fighting had dispersed. Could we blend in with the gang members? Aside from the face paint and weapons It was hard to tell who was violent and who was here for shelter. I could no longer hear any threatening sounds from the streets outside, except for occasional gunshots and shouting.
After a while I gained some courage and began investigating the scene with one of the women. There were men in filthy and bloodied clothing who were brandishing guns. They were sitting peacefully on broken chairs and I did my best to avoid any eye contact as I maneuvered through the destroyed area.
Turning a corner, it appeared as if there was new a closed off space which had been constructed on the top floor. I could see a luxurious red carpet, and golden drapes were hanging from the ceiling around glass walls. There was a smell of incense, and I could hear calming music playing. Two men with machine guns stood at the edges of the door, and I could not see any further into the area without risking my life. Was there someone in charge here?
It wasn’t worth risking our lives to find out, and so we casually made our way back to to main space. There was more activity here now, and I could hear shouting. Had we accidentally drawn the gang’s attention to our presence? I felt movement all around me, as the people in the space were quickly sitting down onto the carpet behind broken tables and chairs, as if someone royal was about to enter.
A man was pointing a gun behind my head, and he escorted me and the women into the space, and instructed me to sit on the carpet. There was an unusual silence that fell over the room, as a large, topless, white man entered. He was escorted by bodyguard with swords and guns. He was overweight and had flabby arms, and he wore a gold band around his bald head, and elaborate golden earrings that hung down to his shoulders. He was wearing metallic leggings, almost as if dressed as the genie in an Aladdin pantomime, however I could tell that this was a serious situation. The man sat before us and spoke with a broad beaming, and dangerous smile.
“My name is Balthazar. Welcome to my Kingdom,” he announced. The room was completely silent, as if the man deserved the respect of a god.
“To be present here should be a great honour for you all. Anyone who does not feel so will be killed. Anyone who hasn’t earned a place here, or who does not wish to earn a place here, will die.”
I could feel the eyes of the crowd leaning towards us. There were five remaining people in my group whom I’d tried to protect previously, and now we were all sitting in a line behind broken tables in front of Balthazar.
“And why are you worthy of being in my Kingdom?” Balthazar looked straight towards me. I could hear the sounds of guns being loaded and clicked into position all around me, as if our execution was imminent.
I was about to speak, however the girl beside me, Luba, suddenly sat upwards and spoke very confidently. “This is the theatre area for Les Miserables. You have yourself here a production and front-of-house team, plus a sound technician and an artistic director for any use you can think of.”
My eyes widened, and we all nodded confidently. This had been quick thinking from Luba. I hadn’t realised that this building had been part of the theatre.
Balthazar smiled. “Excellent! You can be of use.” He turned towards his guards.
“Prepare tokens for these new members of my Kingdom.”
___________
It was the next day. The tokens were presented to us on a sheet of A4 paper, and we inspected it on a broken table in the hallway together. The four tokens were small printed tickets, and we understood that these tokens would stop us from being shot or attacked by other members of the gang, and they would grant us access to the facilities. If you own a token, then you own your life.
As I cut the tickets from the paper, there was an awkward realisation that there were only four tokens on the page, but five people in our group. Each token seemed to have a specific job role, and mine seemed to fit perfectly with my skills. The man without a token seemed to take the news well, as if he’d been reluctantly expecting this scenario for a while. Perhaps Balthazar had known that this man was not fit for being a member of the Kingdom, or perhaps this was a test for the rest of us to prove that we were able to make quick choices.
___________
A few years later I was walking through the area again, and the memories of that time in the gang came flooding back to me. I’d eventually escaped from the Kingdom, however the other members of my group had settled into what had eventually become a proper community. It had been a brutal and sudden collapse of Western society, however things had reverted back to how it had previously been incredibly quickly and easily. I didn’t know if I’d made the wrong decision escaping from the Kingdom.
Walking past the theatre for the musical, Les Miserables, I saw on the poster:
“Sound Engineering, Luba Matherson.”
I felt a pang of jealousy. That had been the role that I’d been supposed to do at the Kingdom, and now that society had settled and had been restored to a safe balance, Luba had gained a full time job in the musical instead of me.