Richard Uprising

Chapter One

The house lights cut off sharply.

Some in the crowd twitched at the sudden change in light. In normal times, darkening house lights would have simply signaled to the audience that the show was about to start. Yet this gathering was anything but normal. These spectators were on edge. Most nervously milled around and occasionally glanced up from their phones or their conversations in order to survey the dimensions of the warehouse that was recently converted into a makeshift concert hall. Before the makeover, it was a stereotypical industrial building. It even had soot stain streaks on the walls. Whoever designed it didn’t expect a large gathering of concert goers. In fact, the only functional entrance and exit point was a large bay door in the warehouse’s front. The door was too small for everyone to escape during a stampede. Other potential escape routes were narrow doors in the corners of the room. Most of the windows had cracks running through them, which caused the imbedded steel octagonal grids to appear angular and uneven. The most anxious among the audience imagined how those windows could double as escape hatches if the worst happened. Smart ones planned their escape route in advance.

The sudden change in light dilated the audience’s pupils. After a few seconds, their eyes adjusted, allowing them to focus on the semi-transparent sheet that enveloped the stage. There was a soft amber light behind the curtain. The back light barely illuminated the shadow of a tall human figure who stood behind a blurred microphone stand. 

A momentary burst of feedback pierced out from the speakers, causing the audience to recoil as the figure spoke.

“Hello New York City!”