One would not say, that they can perfectly predict the actions of a stranger. There could be so many things that this unknown human has seen, experienced and how all that memory compounding is treated by the unique personality built upon the time of being concious.

This inability to predict is often attributed to the desire of which the human is free of -or was it the freeness of will? All these ideas about how it is impossible to predict perfectly, what the individual does and what it does not do, are perfectly right - until you lower the goalpost backwards and try to predict the tendency of an individuals actions.

Will that stranger take a breath after another breath, will that heart beat another time?

Usually one can say with confidence, that this is true.

Will that stranger eat, drink, sleep and defecate? In an environment in which this is possible, the stranger will usually do this. What if the environment does not facilitate these actions?

Watch a stranger getting restless, wandering somewhere else in order to find the right environment - maybe to defecate. What if food were to run out at a party?

What could the reason for the angrily shouting people be, that flood the streets far off the agreed upon party grounds, and that in the middle of the night? What was the muted chant of the masses saying out there in the distance?

Sigmund had just woken up, his mind was still half asleep and he hadn't had time to think about the topic. Yet still these or at least similar questions were still of great priority to him.

He peered out of the window to see them. A lot of people and they were - raiding houses.

The crushing sound of doors broken open with crowbars, loud protesting inhabitants, a loud gunshot... a loud gunshot?!

Silence for a heartbeat, a silence that might make one forget the sound just heard.

Loud cheering erupted, cheering, that was what parties sounded like, not murder.

What had happened, was that not a gunshot, maybe... fireworks?

Sigmund hadn't seen any light flashing, maybe just one of these firecrac- ... and they were dragging out an unmoving person by the foot.

No matter how hard he looked, the details of the scene were not conclusive. But he had to assume that it had not been a firecracker.

The door of his home was opened, not with violence, but with a key. Several persons entered, he could hear his parents among them. "Sigmund? Wake up, it is party time.", his mother shouted. "Let me sleep!", Sigmund protested reflexively.

The tone turned stern, unyielding and determined "Sigmund Sourberry, get down to party." and after that a tone tinged in fear "Please.".

The fear traveled through the sound into Sigmund and grew like maggots in a corpse.

Sigmund put on clothes and followed his parents to the party, watching the men search his room, gather up the secret food stash that he had taken back from them and ... they left off to the party. Within the teen, this was the worst thing since Chadens attempted murder.

The ultimate violation of the house which meant security, which meant future.

Those that opened the doors, those that brought him up, those that always supported him, whose side were they on?