The abandoned General Motors factory on the outskirts of Detroit looked especially desolate in the morning drizzle. Most of the glass windows were broken, green vines crawled up the walls, and the once-busy assembly lines had been reduced to rusting metal skeletons. This factory, which once provided five thousand jobs, had been fully automated three years ago before completely shutting down during the financial crisis.
Mike Wilson stood outside the factory gates, watching the steadily arriving crowd. In his early forties, his broad shoulders and rough hands testified to twenty years of factory work. His face was etched with lines of exhaustion, but his eyes burned with determination.
"Everyone here?" Mike turned to Jack, the former union liaison beside him.
"Brothers from the East and South districts are all here," Jack nodded. "Over three hundred people total. Each one brought equipment, just as you asked."
Mike surveyed the assembled crowd. Most were former automotive workers, with others from various shuttered factories. They wore faded work clothes and carried improvised weapons—wrenches, baseball bats, homemade shields, and a few even carried hunting rifles.
"Yesterday's riot at the Chicago Exchange was just the beginning," Mike called out, his voice echoing across the empty parking lot. "Those Wall Street vultures played with our jobs, played with our pensions, and now the whole system has collapsed. They'll get government bailouts, but what about us? We starve!"
The crowd erupted in angry shouts.
Mike held up a tablet displaying the floor plan of Detroit's last operational auto factory. "The Delta Motor Plant is running with only ten percent human workers and security now. They let robots take our jobs, and today we take back what's ours!"
"Take back what's ours!" the crowd chanted in unison.
With a whistle signal, the group began marching toward the Delta Motor Plant five miles away. More people joined as they advanced—farm workers, construction crews, unemployed service workers—all those abandoned by the system.
When they reached the Delta plant, fully armed security personnel already stood at the factory entrance.
"Wilson!" a suited manager called through a bullhorn. "This assembly has been deemed illegal. Disperse immediately, or we will take action!"
Mike stepped forward with his own portable speaker. "I worked in this factory for fifteen years until you replaced us with machines. Yesterday, my pension account went to zero. Not just mine—everyone's. Your financial system has collapsed, and we're here to take back our jobs!"
The security team tensely raised their weapons. Mike looked into their eyes—most of these guards were working-class people themselves, just ones who still had jobs.
"You're one of us too!" Mike shouted at the guards. "Yesterday's market meltdown destroyed your savings just like it destroyed ours! Join us instead of fighting for those suits in New York and Washington!"
Several guards exchanged uncertain glances. A young security officer suddenly lowered his weapon and walked toward the workers' ranks. Then came a second, then a third...
The factory manager panicked, grabbing his radio: "Activate automated defense systems! Repeat, activate automated defense systems!"
The automated gun turrets on the factory walls began rotating, targeting the crowd. After a moment of tense silence, Mike was the first to charge the gates.
"Now!" he shouted.
Dozens of workers pulled makeshift electromagnetic pulse devices from their backpacks and activated them simultaneously. The turrets and electronic locks immediately failed. The crowd surged through the factory gates like a flood.
A long line formed outside the Whole Foods market in East Atlanta. Since the financial system had shown signs of instability, people had begun panic-buying food and essentials. Harriet George stood in line, holding her two-year-old daughter Tiffany.
"Move up, lady," someone behind her urged impatiently.
Harriet clutched her child tighter. A single mother, she worked as a nurse at the local hospital. Yesterday, the hospital had notified her that due to financial disruptions, this week's paycheck might be delayed. Her bank account held less than two hundred dollars, and ATMs were no longer dispensing cash.
The line inched forward. As Harriet finally approached the store entrance, a black SUV screeched to a halt in front of the supermarket. Four men in sunglasses jumped out and walked directly toward the entrance, ignoring the queue.
"Hey! Get in line!" someone shouted.
The lead man turned around, opening his jacket to reveal a handgun at his waist. "Government priority procurement. Step aside."
The crowd erupted in angry hisses, but no one dared intervene. Harriet held her daughter tightly, feeling a wave of fear.
Just then, a gunshot rang out from inside the store. The crowd immediately panicked, scattering in all directions. Harriet crouched down with her daughter, avoiding the pushing and shoving.
Two more gunshots. The supermarket's glass doors shattered as several people ran out clutching food and water.
"They're looting!" someone yelled.
Harriet saw a store security guard lying in a pool of blood. In the chaos, the four men claiming to be government agents drew their weapons, exchanging fire with the looters. Bullets struck shopping carts and cars with sharp metallic sounds.
"Mommy, I'm scared," Tiffany began crying.
Harriet crawled toward the nearest car for cover, carrying her daughter. An elderly man nearby had been pushed to the ground; she reached out and pulled him behind the shelter with them.
"This is madness," the old man panted. "I lived through the 2008 recession, but I've never seen anything like this."
Harriet's phone suddenly rang. It was the hospital emergency room. She answered, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Nurse George, you need to return immediately. Riots are breaking out across the city. There are too many casualties."
"I can't leave—there's a shootout happening here!" Harriet whispered.
Silence on the line for a second. "Which location?"
"East district Whole Foods."
"We'll send someone for you. Stay somewhere safe."
The gunfire in front of the supermarket intensified. Harriet watched more people joining the looting while the supposed government agents retreated to their SUV, firing at the looters in organized volleys.
In the distance, police sirens grew louder, but Harriet knew the authorities had already lost control of the situation. Looking at her daughter whimpering in fear, she realized the world was crumbling before her eyes.