{"id":127,"date":"2014-02-21T20:30:51","date_gmt":"2014-02-22T04:30:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/joesays.ca\/?p=127"},"modified":"2014-11-22T19:42:09","modified_gmt":"2014-11-23T03:42:09","slug":"the-repossession","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/joesays.ca\/?p=127","title":{"rendered":"The Repossession"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"islander\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Middleton had only been inside The Bitter Edge maybe half a dozen times \u2013 just enough to maintain what his conduct guidelines deemed \u2018appropriate community visibility\u2019 \u2013 but the instant he walked in, he sensed something was out of the ordinary.\u00a0 The place was packed, as usual \u2013 it was the only bar on the island \u2013 but silent.\u00a0 All eyes inside were glued to the TV suspended in an upper corner of the room, where a familiar image filled the flatscreen: a looming mass of weathered, furrowed stone framed against a brilliant blue sky.\u00a0 An announcer spoke in voiceover.
\n\u201cThe Greeting Man is one of the oldest man-made monuments in the hemisphere.\u00a0 As such, it’s the object of considerable archaeological interest.\u00a0 It’s also an economic lifeline for this isolated island community, which has developed a thriving tourism industry based around it. But some of the island\u2019s aboriginal residents, whose ancestors created the Greeting Man thousands of years ago, feel the artifact is being unfairly exploited.\u00a0 So they’ve taken him into ‘protective custody’ and have occupied the public park where the statue is located.\u201d
\nA ragged chorus of disbelief and disapproval rippled through the crowd, chased by an insistent ssshhh-ing as the reporter continued.
\n\u201cWhat this will mean for the hundreds of tourists who are expected to begin arriving tomorrow is unclear, although a statement from the protestors says that visitors will still have full access to the park and its famous inhabitant.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?\u201d
\n\u201cWhen did they go in?\u00a0 Who-\u201d
\n\u201cThere\u2019s the constable, ask him.\u201d
\nIn an instant, all eyes in the room were on him. Middleton, caught off-guard by the news – he\u2019d been blindsided, but good \u2013 struggled to regain his composure. \u201cI\u2019m on my way up there now,\u201d he said, \u201cHeard there was gonna be something on the news, wanted to see it first.\u201d\u00a0 A babble of questions rose from all corners of the room.\u00a0 Middleton stayed them with an upraised palm.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll answer questions later.\u201d\u00a0 He exited sharply, ignoring the glass of ginger ale that the bartender had set out for him.<\/p>\n

Outside the pub, Middleton strode down the boardwalk through the tiny faux-frontier village that was the island\u2019s commercial centre, suppressing the anxiety in his gut.\u00a0 He barely felt the rough hand on his sleeve as Bob Bannerman hustled abreast of him. Bannerman owned the island\u2019s hardware store and headed up the local chamber of commerce.
\n\u201cA word, Constable.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m in a bit of a hurry, Bob.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019ll be quick,\u201d Bannerman said, scurrying alongside him. \u201cI want you to know that whatever help you need, you\u2019ll have it.\u201d
\n\u201cHelp?\u201d
\n\u201cWe don\u2019t have time to wait for the mainland on this.\u00a0 We need action now. And you\u2019ll need help.\u201d
\nMiddleton glanced sideways at him. \u201cHelp with what?\u201d
\nBannerman looked at the policeman in disbelief. \u201cYou are gonna arrest them, right?\u00a0 Open the park?\u201d
\nMiddleton stopped in his tracks and frowned at Bannerman.\u00a0 \u201cArrests?\u00a0 Bob, it\u2019s a couple of kids pulling a publicity stunt,\u201d he said irritably. \u201cI\u2019m pretty sure I can handle it, thanks.\u201d
\nBannerman sucked a deep, quick breath, like he was swallowing something bad. \u201cYou’re still new here, so let me explain something,\u201d he said, his voice simmering, \u201cThat frigging rock is all we have here. It\u2019s what we survive on. I mean, look around.\u201d\u00a0 Middleton did, glancing in the storefronts.\u00a0 He saw sweatshirts and tank tops, driftwood sculptures and oil paintings, postcards and sun visors, paperweights, bumper stickers, coffee mugs, eyeglass cases, key fobs, stained glass and etchings, silk-screened scarves, stuffed toys, everything from exquisite hand-crafted art to mass-produced crap, all adorned with some variation of the same, familiar image: the ancient, stratified tower of rock they called The Greeting Man.
\n\u201cTomorrow’s the start of the season,\u201d Bannerman continued, \u201cIf that park\u2019s not open, the whole summer\u2019ll be toast, just like that. And that will put a lot of people \u2013 me included \u2013 in a very bad way.\u201d
\n\u201cI understand completely, Bob, and rest assured – the park will be open tomorrow. Guaranteed. Okay?\u201d\u00a0 Middleton said, \u201cNow please, go back, tell everyone everything is under control.\u201d
\n\u201cEvery year it\u2019s something with those guys but this takes the friggin\u2019 cake.\u201d\u00a0 Bannerman expelled a beery snort, raising his voice as Middleton swung the door closed. \u201cYou gotta understand, they’re hijacking our livelihood.\u00a0 Our livelihood.\u201d
\nMiddleton smiled sympathetically, and hit the ignition.<\/p>\n

Middleton pulled up to the park entrance and switched off the engine.\u00a0 From the parking lot, a natural corridor through the woods offered him a clear view up to the clifftop where the famous stone figure perched high above the pounding ocean surf, its towering bulk dramatically backlit against a vivid spring sunset.
\nWith a start, Middleton realised that this was the first time he had actually laid eyes on the island\u2019s claim to fame.\u00a0 The past few months had been so busy, there\u2019d been no time.\u00a0 Now, suddenly, there it was.
\nGreeting Man.
\nHe sat for a full minute, transfixed by the sight, moved by some emotion he couldn\u2019t quite name. Some sense of mortality perhaps, brought on by this proximity to the eternal.
\nWith a small shiver, Middleton stepped out of the vehicle and walked across to the trailhead, the main entry to the park. It was barred by a standard issue black and yellow striped swing-arm gate, newly festooned with bunting and beadwork and a hand-lettered sign that read \u201cPrivate Property – No Trespassing\u201d.\u00a0 Behind it stood a pair of nervous native youths.
\n\u201cPark’s closed,\u201d said one, in an uncertain voice, as Middleton approached.
\nMiddleton smiled, showed open hands. \u201cI heard.\u00a0 And I respect your right to be here.\u00a0 But I have to talk to whoever\u2019s in charge.\u201d
\n\u201cPaul?\u201d one ventured.
\nMiddleton nodded – he knew Paul.\u00a0 \u201cYes, tell Paul I need to see him.\u201d
\nThe two youths looked to each other for guidance. \u201cNow, please,\u201d Middleton said, softly. \u201cI\u2019ll go,\u201d one volunteered, and loped off into the woods.<\/p>\n

\u201cFive years ago we applied for a court ruling, making him our intellectual property, you know?\u201d Paul said. \u201cFive years.\u00a0 And still we\u2019re waiting.\u201d
\n\u201cI know it\u2019s frustrating,\u201d Middleton said.
\n\u201cFrustrating?\u00a0 It\u2019s killing us,\u201d Paul said, in an urgent tone. \u201cEvery year, they make all the money, and we make nothing. He’s our property, but they make all the money. We can\u2019t go another season getting nothing, we just can\u2019t. We had to take action.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd your actions are perfectly understandable, Paul.\u00a0 But until the courts rule otherwise, what they\u2019re doing is perfectly legal. What you are doing is not.\u201d\u00a0 Middleton paused, and looked around.\u00a0 He and Paul were sitting at one of the chunky wood picnic tables in the park\u2019s eating area.\u00a0 On its fringe was a tiny colony of tents and camper trailers.\u00a0 Everywhere, young people were hustling and hurrying about, carrying tools, lumber, paint. \u201cWhat exactly are you doing here, anyway?\u201d
\nPaul’s mouth twitched with a self-satisfied smirk, but he said nothing.
\nMiddleton exhaled with impatience. \u201cPaul, work with me here.\u00a0 This\u2019ll be my first May weekend here but I\u2019ve heard the tourists arrive by the hundreds.\u00a0 And they all make a beeline up here. What do you think they’re going to say when they can\u2019t get into the park?\u201d
\nPaul’s smile widened. \u201cThey\u2019ll get into the park, no problem.\u201d
\n\u201cPaul, check this out,\u201d said a voice behind Middleton.\u00a0 He turned and saw a pair of young men propping up a large wooden sign, engraved with the words \u2018Greeting Man Historical Park\u2019 and framed with a carved frieze of tribal motifs.\u00a0 Below that was a list of admission prices.
\n\u201cTake it down to the main entrance. I\u2019ll be there in a minute,\u201d\u00a0 Paul said.\u00a0 He\u00a0 looked back to Middleton. \u201cSee? The park will be open tomorrow. Open to everyone. At very reasonable prices.\u201d
\nMiddleton shook his head gently, and chuckled. \u201cVery good, very clever.\u201d
\nPaul beamed. \u201cLet them have the reproductions.\u00a0 We have the real thing.\u201d
\n\u201cIt’s an excellent idea, Paul. But unfortunately it’s against the law.\u201d
\nThere was a short, cool silence.
\n\u201cAlways the law, right?\u00a0 No talk of what’s right, just what’s the law.\u201d
\nMiddleton let a moment pass. \u201cThe law is my job, Paul. For what it’s worth, I sympathise with your cause.\u00a0 Maybe I can help you. But not here, not like this.\u201d
\nPaul’s expression hardened. \u201cWhat are you saying?\u201d
\n\u201cYou can\u2019t stay here, Paul. You have to leave the park. All of you.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd if we don\u2019t?\u201d
\n\u201cYou\u2019ll be putting yourself and your people here in a very … awkward situation.\u201d Middleton said coolly.\u00a0 The threat in his tone was crystal clear.
\nHe could see Paul tumbling options in his mind.
\n\u201cSomeone needs to take a stand,\u201d Paul said, solemnly.
\nMiddleton leaned forward, his voice dropping. \u201cAnd you have, Paul.\u00a0 Man, you led the six o\u2019clock news! You made your point.\u00a0 Now take that and bank it.\u00a0 If you stay in here things are just going to turn ugly, and neither of us want that.\u201d
\nPaul eyed him suspiciously.\u00a0 Middleton stared resolutely right back, then broke off the eye contact.
\n\u201cHere\u2019s what I can do,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cI’ll go back to my office.\u00a0 You move everyone out by park closing tonight – that’s eight o’clock – and it will look like that\u2019s the way you planned it all along \u2013 a temporary demonstration, little civil disobedience \u2013 no lasting damage done. What do you say?\u201d
\n\u201cThat’s not what we said.\u00a0 Not what we planned.\u201d
\n\u201cIt’s the best I can offer you, Paul. Have everyone out by eight tonight, and there\u2019ll be no consequences.\u201d
\nPaul averted his gaze, set his mouth, and didn’t speak.
\nMiddleton sighed, and rose from the bench. \u201cDo the smart thing, Paul, please. Eight o\u2019clock.\u201d\u00a0 He turned and strode away. At ten paces, Paul\u2019s voice reached out to him.
\n\u201cThis is an old fight, Officer. You\u2019re a new man. You should keep out of it.\u201d
\nHe kept walking.<\/p>\n

Middleton gingerly lifted the squat, steaming tub of stew from the office microwave and carried it to his desk. He ate distractedly, skimming and sorting the torrent of faxes, voice messages and emails that had accumulated in the hour since the news broke.\u00a0 They ranged from offers of backup, official and otherwise, to media queries and calls from various politicos looking for ass-cover.\u00a0 He didn\u2019t reply to any of them.<\/p>\n

At 7:50, he swung the Bronco into the same slot he\u2019d occupied earlier. Through the cut, Greeting Man was a sharp black shape against the ripening evening sky but this time Middleton barely registered it as he swung out of the vehicle and strode to the gate.\u00a0 It was still closed, but unattended. Up the trail, ragged points of light danced in the darkness, and sounds of singing and drumming pulsed in the night air.\u00a0 He listened carefully.
\n\u201cIt’s a gratitude song.\u201d said a voice in the dark.
\nMiddleton\u2019s heart practically leapt out of his chest.\u00a0 He turned to see a short, dishevelled figure shrinking back in alarm, hands help up in defense.
\n\u201cOfficer, sorry, sorry – just me.\u201d
\n\u201cJesus, Anderson, what are you doing here?\u201d he panted.
\nThe man lifted a metal ring with a large plastic tag and a single key attached.\u00a0 \u201cGotta lock up.\u201d Anderson belonged to that small tribe of locals who managed, despite a lack of any obvious skills, to scrabble together a precarious living in the island\u2019s thin economy.\u00a0 In Anderson\u2019s case, one source of income was the modest stipend paid by the Parks Department for overseeing the minimal needs of the park.
\nMiddleton smiled.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s already locked.\u00a0 Haven\u2019t you heard?\u201d
\nAnderson huffed and folded his arms. \u201cI heard, yeah. Also heard you were gonna haul them out.\u201d
\n\u201cWell, you heard sort of right.\u00a0 They\u2019ll be leaving very soon.\u201d
\n\u201cThen I\u2019ll wait.\u201d Anderson sidled up beside Middleton. The drumming and chanting thrummed through the darkness.
\n\u201cWhat did you call it?\u00a0 A gratitude song?\u201d
\n\u201cYes, a song of thanks. For the gift of Greeting Man.\u201d
\n\u201cGift? They made him.\u201d
\n\u201cSo they would have us believe, eh?\u201d Anderson\u2019s dark eyes twinkled.
\nMiddleton looked at him curiously. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d
\n\u201cHe was here long, long time before their people came. Historical fact.\u201d
\n\u201cReally?\u201d
\nAnderson studied Middleton keenly for a moment. \u201cEarliest traces of humanity on this continent are twenty-five thousand years old, maybe thirty.\u00a0 Greeting Man there, he\u2019s over a hundred. Over a hundred.\u201d Anderson lifted his eyebrows in query.\u00a0 paused for effect. \u201cIt\u2019s true. A couple of years ago, a team came from the Smithsonian and did dating tests.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd they confirmed that?\u201d
\n\u201cThey told us nothing. But we knew. They also did a complete mineralogical analysis, but the results have never been released. What do you think they\u2019re hiding, hmmm?\u201d
\nHe leaned closer to Middleton, his voice slipping to an urgent whisper. \u201cDid you see the chemtrails today? The lines in the sky?\u201d He nodded towards the woods, the persistent chanting. \u201cThey\u2019re right to be worried,\u201d he said.
\nMiddleton opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, there was a massive mechanical growl from the roadway behind them. Middleton turned and saw the hulking mass of an excavator lumbering towards them, tracks clattering on the ashphalt. It stopped several yards shy of the two men, stretched its bucket arm to full extension and set it gently onto the road surface. The engine shifted into a low grumbling idle and a stocky figure stepped out from the cab onto the track, hopped down onto the road, and approached Middleton with a slightly bowlegged swagger. \u201cOfficer, Anderson,\u201d he said, with a short nod to each.
\n\u201cRiley, what are you doing here?\u201d Middleton asked, more testily than he\u2019d intended.\u00a0 Riley was another Parks Department contractor.
\n\u201cHeard park access has been obstructed.\u00a0 Thought you might need some help getting things cleared. It\u2019s in my contract, right?\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s true, it is,\u201d added Anderson helpfully.
\nMiddleton looked at the enormous machine. \u201cWell, I appreciate your offer but I think the obstruction will be cleared away very shortly.\u201d
\n\u201cDo you really?\u201d asked Riley, with a hint of contempt.
\n\u201cYes, I do.\u201d
\n\u201cI think you\u2019re wrong, officer, and I think you\u2019re making a big mistake taking their side in this.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m not taking any sides, I\u2019m just-\u201d Middleton stopped mid-sentence, his eye caught by a movement in the darkness in the distance. Down the road past the idling excavator, a large crowd was moving slowly through the darkness towards them. Middleton felt a hand on his arm, and Anderson murmured to him.\u00a0 \u201cYou’re being called.\u201d
\nMiddleton turned, and saw another shadowy crowd clustering a few yards away, behind the park gate. He suddenly realised that the singing had ceased. Middleton allowed himself a short sigh of relief. \u201cRight on time.\u201d\u00a0 He loped over.
\nPaul emerged at the front of the crowd, his dark eyes fixed suspiciously on the enormous machine. \u201cYou said you\u2019d let us leave in our own way,\u201d he said tersely.
\n\u201cPaul, it\u2019s not what you think \u2013\u201d
\n\u201cWe stay!\u201d Paul yelled, driving his fist into the air.\u00a0 The crowd around him erupted in yelling and chanting, and Paul disappeared into it.
\n\u201cPaul, wait, Paul!\u201d Middleton\u2019s voice was lost in the wall of noise coming from the protestors, which was itself suddenly buried under a new avalanche of noise coming from behind him.\u00a0 He turned and saw the excavator bucket rising into the night air like the head of an enraged beast, its toothed maw opening hungrily.\u00a0 Two high-powered headlights blinked on and the machine lurched forward with a deafening din, cheered on by the crowd in the roadway behind it.
\n***Half-blinded, Middleton turned away. Behind the gate, the protestors stood unmoving, their eyes glittering with defiance in the harsh illumination. A drum started, and they began to sing again, loudly and angrily now, their voices rising against the clattering racket of the advancing machine.\u00a0 The two walls of noise closed in on Middleton like a deafening vise.\u00a0 He tried to think, but the chaos of noise and light and rising fury made it impossible.\u00a0 He closed his eyes, for just a moment, and struggled to focus. Everything was so loud.
\nHe would have to be louder.
\nWith a single fluid movement his right hand slid up his thigh, slipped his revolver from its holster and raised it straight up into the air.\u00a0 He fired five shots in quick, perfectly measured succession.\u00a0 The echoes abated, leaving only a dim rumble of noise in their wake.\u00a0 The machine had stopped dead, its engine cut to an idle. The mob behind it was still.\u00a0 The protestors were silent too. Everyone was watching him.\u00a0 Amidst the tension, Middleton was feeling some strange new sensation.\u00a0 It felt thrilling, but illicit.
\nIt dawned on him what it was: power.
\nSlowly, he lowered the gun and holstered it.
\n\u201cEveryone stay where you are.\u201d\u00a0 He turned to the stilled excavator. The extended bucket hovered fifteen feet in the air over his head. \u201cRiley, get out here.\u201d
\nA squat figure emerged from the cab and stepped out onto the tread.\u00a0 It wasn\u2019t Riley; it was Bob Bannerman. \u201cLooked like you could use some help there, officer,\u201d he said, with a nervous smile.
\nMiddleton suppressed a surge of fury. \u201cTurn the engine off. Leave the lights on.\u201d\u00a0 Bob pressed a button on the dash and the machine gave a shudder as the engine died. He climbed down onto the street and joined the small gang, which gathered him in, murmuring sympathetically.
\nMiddleton intended to let a beat of silence pass before he spoke again, but it was broken by a low moan of pain.\u00a0 He looked around to locate the source, and at the very moment he realised the sound was coming from the sky, the storm fell on them like an avalanche.
\nThe blast of wind took Middleton off his feet as if he\u2019d been struck with a roundhouse uppercut. The rain was so sudden and so heavy that his clothing was saturated by the time he hit the pavement, which was already half an inch deep with water.\u00a0 A simultaneous detonation of thunder and lightning shook the very earth.
\nStunned, winded, and physically pinned to the pavement by the force of the storm, Middleton watched in dazed shock as his world slipped out of balance into chaos.
\nThe excavator, already unstable with its bucket at full extension, was heeling over in the gale, tipping towards him. With a desperate surge of energy, he rolled clear and watched in horror as the machine slowly toppled forward, its bucket a thousand pound wrecking ball falling directly towards the park gateway.\u00a0 Through the sheeting rain he could see the protestors scrambling away up the path, screaming in panic. Seconds later the bucket crumpled the gateway and embedded itself into the soft ground with a metallic grunt.
\nOn the other side of the lot, the village mob was fleeing too, running crookedly down the road as the wind buffetted them about, followed closely by Anderson unsteadily pushing his rickety bicycle.
\nWithin seconds, Middleton found himself alone at the scene. The storm\u2019s violence had abated but the wind and rain were still ferocious.\u00a0 Drenched and shivering, he staggered across to the Bronco and crawled in.
\nInside, the vehicle interior rocked as gusts swept through the parking lot but the roar of wind and water was muted.\u00a0 Middleton flicked on a roof-mounted spotlight and scanned up the pathway.\u00a0 There was no-one to be seen, and the path itself was a torrent of runoff.\u00a0 He hoped they had enough space in their campers for everyone. They wouldn\u2019t be going anywhere till the storm passed. And he doubted Bannerman\u2019s mob would return. He should go back to the office, reply to some of those messages, call the mainland, start working on a Weapon Discharged incident report.\u00a0 It would be his first. And it wouldn\u2019t be very flattering.
\nOn second thought, maybe he\u2019d stay put for an hour and monitor the situation.\u00a0 Meantime, he might as well get as comfortable as he could.
\nMiddleton kept a by-the-book emergency bag in the Bronco, and was glad of it. He wrestled out of his soaking uniform and into a dry sweatshirt and pants, and peeled the wrapper off an energy bar.\u00a0 He sat and watched the storm rage around him, his mind replaying the evening\u2019s events.
\nSome peace officer.\u00a0 First sign of trouble, out comes the gun.\u00a0 He was supposed to heal the community, bring it together, solve problems.\u00a0 Instead he\u2019s done just the opposite, gotten both sides angrier at each other. And over what?
\nThe one thing that they all valued. That rock.
\nHe swivelled one of spotlights up towards the cut, hoping to glimpse the Greeting Man on his rocky clifftop, maybe recapture that sensation of timelessness he\u2019d felt earlier. But all he could see were cascading sheets of rain. He killed the light and sat alone in the dark, listening to the relentless, hypnotic thrum of rain on the roof of the cab.
\nHe had so much work to do, so much …<\/p>\n

Middleton woke to the blinding glare of sunlight reflecting off slick surfaces. Blinking, he stepped out of the Bronco.
\nThe entire landscape looked freshly pressure-washed: clean, dripping, brilliantly shiny.\u00a0 It looked, thought Middleton, like a land newly-born.\u00a0 The wedge of sky visible through the cut was a dazzling blue. Tree branches glittered with beads of bright water. Even the toppled excavator looked harmless, like an abandoned, oversized toy.
\nThen it hit him.
\nHe snapped his gaze back, up through the cut to the cliff\u2019s edge.
\nIt was gone.
\nHe began at a walk, vaulted the gateway and carried on at a jog, which quickly turned into a full-out run through the wooded path that led up to the cliff.\u00a0 He slowed as he reached the clearing, staring in disbelief.
\nThe Greeting Man was gone.\u00a0 In fact, the entire portion of the cliff where he stood was gone.\u00a0 A ragged seam of soil and moss showed where the mass of stone had separated and fallen to the rocks below.\u00a0 Stunned, Middleton walked to the edge, and looked over.
\nIt was a sheer drop of fifty feet to a shore of flat, layered sandstone.\u00a0 The fallen chunk of cliff was clearly visible below, half submerged but still largely intact.\u00a0 But there was no sign of the massive statue.\u00a0 Middleton strained to see some trace of it under the pile of rubble, even though logic told him it would be on top of or beside the slide, not underneath it.\u00a0 Perhaps it was already underwater \u2013 the incoming tide was high this morning, crashing against the base of the cliff, and it was difficult to see clearly.\u00a0 Yes, Middleton decided, it had to be down there in the shallows, camouflaged among the restless elements of water, stone and flickering sunshine.\u00a0 It had to be.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Middleton had only been inside The Bitter Edge maybe half a dozen times \u2013 just enough to maintain what his conduct guidelines deemed \u2018appropriate community visibility\u2019 \u2013 but the instant he walked in, he sensed something was out of the ordinary.\u00a0 The place was packed, as usual \u2013 it was the only bar on the…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-127","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/joesays.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/127","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/joesays.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/joesays.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/joesays.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/joesays.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=127"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/joesays.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/127\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":255,"href":"https:\/\/joesays.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/127\/revisions\/255"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/joesays.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=127"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/joesays.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=127"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/joesays.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=127"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}