（外文电子版资料）Paul Collins - The Government In Exile.pdf

The Government in Exile a short story by Paul Collins It is Revolution Day tomorrow, and the people are already crowding the streets, preparing for the festivities. I turn from the blackened window and jog down the stairs. I always run up and down the stairs. I find it amuses the people in the house. I jog mainly because it is the only exercise I get. I think they resent my jogging. They feel keeping fit is a little excessive. Ob (this stands for Obese, we think, although it might be an abbreviation of Oberon) looks up from the table where he is pondering a crossword. He nods disdainfully -- I know he thinks Im a fool for jogging. I slow to a walk and glance down at his crossword. I have yet to see him complete one; I wonder why he persists with the charade. He fools no one. In the kitchen the plates are piled high. Something scurries from beneath the unwashed cooking utensils. The movement dislodges a knife that is crucial to the piles balance, and I am barely in time to rescue all but the large plate, which crashes to the floor. I hear Ob sigh. Hows the crossword? I call. It is a joke among the household that has been festering in Obs mind like some terminal disease. Cancerous growth? That would be nice. A terminal cancerous growth. I hear his pencil rattle across the table and can imagine his bloated face turning a bright red with every swallowed breath. I should remind him to save his energy for Revolution Day tomorrow. I kick the shattered plate into the corner where all the other broken items gather like mould. It is my turn to wash the dishes, as it was seven weeks ago. Perhaps illogically, I concede that I too will forego this chore. Everyone else has. Ob is not at the table when I leave the kitchen. No doubt he is upstairs in his one-windowed ro