The explosion was little more than a firecracker in volume, but it was sufficient to destroy the hinges on the gate. Behind this erstwhile protection lay one of Atlanta's wealthiest residential communities. These residents had to know on some level that this was coming sooner or later. It had been a few years since the last one. Choreographed community invasions had been going on for years, getting bolder and more efficient with the learning experiences of repeated execution.
When the economy collapsed, and collapse it did, there was anarchy. At first it took the form of rioting and protests centered on the disappearance of government programs and particularly those all-important federally-issued checks. Money to pay for healthcare, schools, police and fire protection, roads and bridges, disability income and welfare, and even politicians' salaries, all of it and everything else, stopped during a span of about one year, nearly a decade previously. The state and federal flows of money had not resumed. For a few months in those early days of the collapse, the more dedicated public servants, especially teachers and policemen, worked without salaries hoping for a reinstatement of salary and benefits. Most knew that there would be no reinstatement. Many simply had nothing else to turn to but their work, their profession. This was certainly true of doctors and nurses. Their healing arts were what defined them, made them who they were. They had no choice but to continue working with the ill and injured. It gave their lives purpose amidst the chaos.
