Waiting for the Dark, Waiting for the Light

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A crowd had begun to gather at the lower end of the square. Most of the people were young. Some of them Pavel remembered from earlier demonstrations. He had a good memory for faces and even thought he recognized some of the onlookers lounging on the pavement. Like him, they were fixtures on these occasions. They were probably here on duty too, though it was duty of a different kind. Not far away, in front of a large display window full of shoes, was a man with a small movie camera. He didn't recognize the man, though he knew most people in his line of work; perhaps he was a curious tourist, an amateur photographer or someone taking pictures of the demonstrators for the archives of the security police.

But what was he doing here himself? Why were he and his crew filming these events? For television? The network wouldn't broadcast a thing he shot, or rather what they did broadcast would have little to do with what actually happened. Perhaps he was working for the future.

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