into kotaom : a novel by david faylin | [home]
The Dolour Dáil. HoD Awaits You.
Borrada spoke on, defiant. Jeered. “So what am I to do: say something silently, or say nothing loudly?”
The Dáil – Dolour’s parliament – dissented. Members hopped toe-to-toe over the heat of the furore. The Speaker contrived a breathy laugh from the energy of Borrada’s flagrant lack of protocol.
“You know what,” Borrada said, throwing his hands, “I don’t care a damn for the Office of Prime Minister. Did I ever? I don’t remember. This nation’s all I care about. Loosening Dolour from oppression is the toil that I’ve allowed to break me. I did it knowing our people’s happiness would be a potent salve. Because happiness is possible in Dolour; sure I know it now. And you can’t bind me over forever.”
Members tapped their voting buttons: tá and nil, tá and nil, lighting up the horseshoe voting board like kindergarten roulette...
[the above is an excerpt from Into Kotaom]
