The swarm

The swarm

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Was this crowd dangerous ? You never know. The most peaceful group of people can turn into a frantic mob once it’s set in motion. A crowd, like a swarm, has a mind of its own. Rationality is not additive.

The binoculars didn’t show much. These people were marching toward us, a compact mass of individuals unusually quiet for such a large number – there were possibly three or four thousand of them. No chants, no banners, no raised fists, no visible weapons, no ranks. No stragglers either. The borders of the group were well defined, though changing, an ink spot of people that moved like an amoeba. It walked, at a good steady pace, with an unheralded purpose.

Behind the barred windows of the watchtowers, behind the safe walls and the still sheathed bayonets, we were expecting orders. The outer world was a cipher, a dangerous legend. If we ever had relatives outside, it was better not to talk about them. Our spies only reported what they saw to the authorities. Nothing leaked. And who could trust a spy anyway ?

It was easier to see the crowd now. They looked like us. They had similar clothes, similar faces. Women and men, old and young, and even a few children. Even their dogs looked were like ours, perhaps a little thinner. We had

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