In Progress X

[tyrannosaurus vex]

There may be no way to divulge the information in these pages without crossing a few imaginary lines and charting territory in places that some people would consider going too far. However, it is my sincere belief that, sometimes, offending someone you care about is not only necessary but helpful in the long run, painful as it may be, when compared to the damage that might be done by ignoring a situation that promises to bring complete ruin if it goes unaddressed.

It is for this reason alone that I write what I write. I do not hope for or expect that I will accomplish some grand revolution in popular thought. I am only addressing a reality that I see as threatening to my welfare; and not only my own welfare, but the welfare of my friends and my family. I write out of what I believe is a necessity to bring to light some facts that are too often dismissed as trivial or unrelated to everyday life.

My motives have been questioned by those who have seen what I am writing, as I would expect, and it would seem that this testament is responsible for bringing much of what I have feared would happen had I never said a single word, to fruition. To this my only response is that attacking a rabid beast may get you bitten, but running in fear or standing still in its path would only delay the same fate.

So, I do what I feel I must do; because I do not have an army at my disposal, I must wield the pen in hopes that I might at least bring enough widespread attention to this situation to stave off the larger assault for a generation or two.

What you think of me for what I write is not important; neither is it a point on which I hope you dwell too much. Take what words you read, whether they are everything in these pages or only brief excerpts, and do whatever you think you should do with it. Take heed if you must, ignore it if you must, bury it with a gallon of booze, try to forget it if you must. All I really ask of you is that you hear what you want to hear in these pages, as people will do, and act on it as your conditioning has taught you to act on things that may (or may not, as the case may be) offend you.

The Spectator Sport

It is too easy to sit in a comfortable chair and reflect over the many thousands of years our race has struggled through adversity, both natural and self-inflicted, and think there is a general trend toward Peace and Enlightenment. Although at a glance it might seem like that is the case, it only takes a minute to see that as the false assumption it is. It is true that for small pieces of the population for small pieces of history, comfort and easy living have been taken for granted. But in all of those cases there is an outward border to prosperity that these people inevitably cross. Whether it was the fall of Rome, or the fall of the British Empire, or the fall of the United States (all of which, in retrospect, result from simple mistakes at the top of the social ladder); all of the immortal governments of man have proved to be far more susceptible to the shortsightedness and vice of the common Human animal than we like to think.

When one steps outside the boundaries of sanctioned and glorified history and looks more critically at the actual events that have transpired in the scope of Human endeavor, it begins to look like a string of incredible accidents and near-misses that has allowed any sort of civilization to survive for as long as it has. Indeed, at many points in our history complete and total destruction has been averted not by the careful planning of entire nations full of good intentions, but by random elements not previously taken into consideration at all, which seem to just show up out of nowhere and stop the progress of whatever momentary apocalypse would be unstoppable otherwise.

As history progresses, we do see more and more potential for universal prosperity; we see grand technologies developed, public systems implemented, more noble speech from the politicians, and wonderful treatments for terrible diseases. We see all of this happen, but instead of a world filled with greater equality, we are shown more and more the capacity of man to corrupt every virtue and squander every opportunity. We are in truth brought nearer the point of absolute extinction with every step "forward" we take, while our naivete insists we must think that things are getting better.

A few years before the events in Seattle, I thought I was a socially-conscious young man quietly doing his part to nudge history along the slow but decidedly benevolent pattern it had been making for ten thousand years. I happened to be a faceless clerk working in a franchise location for a faceless corporation, doing the same job everyone did back then, shuffling bits of mass-production to bits of mass-consumption. I was of course oblivious to the Movement at that time, and what I did when I wasn't at work was nevertheless defined by what I did while I was at work. I did now and then find time to help set up a concert here and there, or to distribute literature encouraging people to just stop being so down on themselves all the time. I used to think people were too depressed.

Anyway, it was a Tuesday morning, and I was stocking a shelf with some latest-and-greatest gadget boxed in an attractive blue plastic carton. I admit I was moving a little slow, my mind preoccupied with the Rally I'd be at later that evening. Something was going on up at the front of the store, somebody sounded mad about something, but I was only vaguely aware of it at the moment. Then somebody let out a loud blast of profanity and that at least got enough of my attention to get me to look up and to my left at the row of checkout lanes, just in time to see five or six men in black fatigues, no insignias on them, surrounding some customer.

I thought she had probably been shoplifting at first, but then as she was standing there, surrounded by these guys and obviously not trying to escape, one of the men produced a billy club and hit her twice at the base of her skull, sending her silently to the floor. Then they carried her out of the building.

Of course I was curious now, so I asked one of the cashiers what had happened.

"She never did anything, she was just standing in line and those guys came in and took her," Alice said. She was confused. I was still just looking forward to the Rally.

More to come eventually...

[Cramulus]

High quality, can't wait for more!

I particularly like...

• The first two paragraphs. It sets up a sympathetic vibe, which makes anything you're about to say a lot easier to swallow. A lot of text we produce has a sort of bitter, condescending edge which I fear turns away people rather than attracting them. But here, I think you've nailed the correct tone and posture.
• I like how the Fall of the United States is stated in the past tense.
• At first I thought you were referring to the Seattle Riots of 1998 (?). Still not sure if that's where this is going, but the violence depicted seems more .. arbitrary. Harsh and unexpected. Which is interesting because it looks like you're setting the narrator up to sympathize with this enigmatic Movement.
• the Movement with a capital M.

[tyrannosaurus vex]

Not the Seattle Riots.  I have a feeling this might go farther into left field than that, but I can't say for sure.  Next part...

For the rest of that day I approached my job with the usual amount of absentminded automation. It occurred to me a couple of times that maybe I was callous for not dwelling more on what had happened to the customer that morning, but mostly that thought was canceled out by knowing that the rally that evening would probably address the problem, at least indirectly. The truth was that I didn't know exactly what the rally was supposed to be about (there were always so many rallies about so many things, and besides, I would be there mostly to meet women and smoke weed), but I knew it was the right place to be if you had even a hint of anti-establishment sentiment in your brain. In any case, what happened that morning was hardly out of the ordinary after the last attacks, and people were adjusting to the necessity of increased vigilance by the police and the Blacksuits.

When my shift finally ended and I had clocked out and been released from work, I walked outside and down the street toward the convenience store on the corner. The sky was an undecided mix of dark storm-clouds and blue space; either way it promised to be good weather for the rally. It was warm outside with a cool breeze, being late October, and all in all it was looking like the day would give way to a decent evening. I walked into the convenience store, my usual stop on the way home from work, to get something unhealthy to eat and drink while I waited for nightfall. The place was dim inside and smelled slightly of mold (nobody else ever mentioned it, but they must have known that you shouldn't smell mold where you buy your food). This store had been built around the turn of the century, evident from the old-fashioned architecture and the fact that the bullet-proof glass around the attendant's station (already empty by this hour) was obviously installed as an afterthought. At the back of the store, where all the products were sealed behind a glass wall and organized according to sugar content and price, I browsed for a minute before making my selection, waving my wrist in front of the Creditector and wrangling the fallen merchandise out of the slot below its shelf.

Walking out of the store, I stopped across the sidewalk and sat at the bus stop. I barely had enough time to get a drink before I saw the bus drag itself over the hill and make its way to my stop, where I got on and sat near the back, as always. The buses moved slowly, by far the slowest traffic on the street, and you could watch what was going on outside the vehicle as it crept downtown. The Blacksuits were out in force that day, as they always were on the day of a scheduled Rally, patrolling the sidewalks and searching people. There were almost half as many Blacksuits as their were Police, who were also out in force and had already begun manned oversight of some of the major intersections on my route home.

The Rally that evening was to be the biggest one of the year, so you had to expect the State to be prepared. The last big Rally like that ended when somebody maced a Blacksuit and all hell broke loose. That incident threatened to end the Rallies altogether, but it blew over like everything else. I hadn't made it to that Rally, and I was hoping nobody pulled anything like that tonight. I understood the frustration people had — wages were down, travel was restricted, and a million other gripes — but I didn't see the need for violence. I settled into my seat for the ride home, which took about an hour, and looked forward to the Rally.

I didn't notice myself fall asleep, and apparently neither did anyone else because when I woke up I still had my bag. I had almost missed my stop, but managed to jump up and reach the Stop command button in time. The bus halted, I got out, and walked into the foyer of my apartment building with still almost two hours until the Rally started. I spent that time doing my hair and makeup, getting the perfect "just threw it on" outfit together, and then sat down at the computer to check for incoming messages.

It's moving slow but I don't want to push it ...

[Cramulus]

not bad, keep it coming...

for future installments, could post it in the regular post body and not in a quote block? the smaller font is a strain to read in larger doses.

I like the narrator's attitude. Concerned, but detached.