“Who will restore justice to the meek?”

“And finance to the poor?”

“And understand the children?”

I had visited these rallies before. I knew just why these activists, as maniacal as they were, screamed into the audiences in all their self-delusion. Were the people in the stadium really saving the world? No. Were they here so they could partake in the hype but not in the cause? Absolutely. But the activists fed on the crowds in fueling their self-delusion as the crowds fed on the activists in fueling the hype. I bore witness to a two-way phenomena that kept me in the clutches of the stadium for hours on end. Where else in the world would in find a two-way failure, a two-way continuum? The phenomena intrigued me like nothing else could. I had suddenly found my escape in a failing continuum.

Or better still, my escape into a purpose of complexity.

But one thing distinguished this rally, this day, from all the rest. Who precisely were the children? To whom did the activists call out this time?

“Who will understand the children?”

Anastasia, the leader of the rebels, had asked the wrong question. Believe, she is rarely ever wrong. Just in her self-delusion. But I couldn’t help but notice her additional mistake. Spewing forth the query that she ought to have rephrased.

In her rhetoric, Ana meant to suggest that every single person in the stadium ought to understand the children. We knew the answer to her question—why did she have to keep repeating herself? She needed to ask:

“Who are the children?”

That was worth figuring out first. At least allow the crowds to mull over that basic piece of the puzzle, Ana, if they aren’t going to mull over anything else.
So for the first time, I screamed into the crowds and voiced the right question. And what did Ana return?
“The children of ignorance!”
How ironic. Who in the stadium was willing to understand what he was?