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Traffics and Discoveries

Chapter 8: THE RUNNERS
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About This Book

A diverse collection of short fiction and verse that moves between military camps, colonial ports, and private rooms to examine encounters shaped by duty, invention, and cultural collision. Individual pieces range from tightly observed prisoner scenes and character sketches of officers and inventors to satirical and lyrical experiments that blend realism with occasional imaginative flourish. Recurring concerns include responsibility under command, the effects of new technology, moral ambiguity, and the personal costs of empire, all delivered through concise narratives and poems that alternate irony, pathos, and a keen attention to human detail.

THE RUNNERS

                                   News!
  What is the word that they tell now—now—now!
  The little drums beating in the bazaars?
      They beat (among the buyers and sellers)
          “Nimrud—ah Nimrud!
          God sends a gnat against Nimrud
!”
      Watchers, O Watchers a thousand!

                                   News!
  At the edge of the crops—now—now—where the well-wheels are halted,
  One prepares to loose the bullocks and one scrapes his hoe,
      They beat (among the sowers and the reapers)
          “Nimrud—ah Nimrud!
          God prepares an ill day for Nimrud
!”
      Watchers, O Watchers ten thousand.

                                   News!
  By the fires of the camps—now—now—where the travellers meet
  Where the camels come in and the horses: their men conferring,
      They beat (among the packmen and the drivers)
          “Nimrud—ah Nimrud!
          Thus it befell last noon to Nimrud
!”
      Watchers, O Watchers an hundred thousand!

                                   News!
  Under the shadow of the border-peels—now—now—now!
  In the rocks of the passes where the expectant shoe their horses,
      They beat (among the rifles and the riders)
          “Nimrud—ah Nimrud!
          Shall we go up against Nimrud
?”
      Watchers, O Watchers a thousand thousand?

                                   News!
  Bring out the heaps of grain—open the account-books again!
  Drive forward the well-bullocks against the taxable harvest!
  Eat and lie under the trees—pitch the police-guarded fair-grounds,
      O dancers!
  Hide away the rifles and let down the ladders from the watch-towers!
      They beat (among all the peoples)
          “Now—now—now!
          God has reserved the Sword for Nimrud!
          God has given Victory to Nimrud!”
          Let us abide under Nimrud
!”
      O Well-disposed and Heedful, an hundred thousand thousand!