It is currently 8:32 am. I’ve locked myself in the basement of a large factory to write this. If the higher-ups knew of my ruse they would put me in a chamber and chain me to wall with a dozen starved rats. That’s what the world has resulted to. The smallest infraction of the law punishable by death.
I guess this all started in 2004 when George Dubya was re-elected. Nobody headed my previous warnings. I warned everyone that the world would come to this. I foresaw it when I watched the police force and their inability to enforce the laws. I’d written letters and essays. I even sent 20 different letters to Mr. Dubya, himself. No good.
Dubya was too busy fighting his self-proclaimed “War on Terrorism,” or WOT, for short. Isn’t it funny how it abreaviated as such, “wot? What?” get it?? Anyway, he was so busy fighting terrorists and looking for Bin Laden, that he didn’t really care about the state of the country he was suppose to be in control of. Streets were out of control. You couldn’t even leave your house after 4 pm without getting mobbed. There was no need for street lights anymore. The anarchistic mobs took care of that with their raining of Molotov cocktails.
Bunked up in the whitehouse, why couldn’t he see this coming? Of course, he could not longer ignore the truth. On a bright spring day 30 members of the assault terrorist team, , rushed into the white house armed with a back-pack full of Molotovs and various assault riffles purchased from random army surplus stores, killing everything that moved. Of course, the president was protected. As soon as they become hip to the assault team they dispatched the military to move in and clean house.
That’s when the president implimented his plan to make this a brave new world. Excuse the pop culture reference. Military patrols plagued the streets. “Fighting anarchy with anarchy,” he called it. The curfew of 4 pm still stood. Anyone in the street after this time was shot on sight. Anyone partaking in illegal activities, of any kind, were shot on sight. Twenty four hour patrols to clean the streets.
There were no de-militarized zones. These were police with balls, and everyone feared them. Even what used to be South Central LA bowed before the gods of patrol.
Finally, the patrols slowed down. Instead of seeing a GoP every 30 feet you’d see them patrol once an hour, if that. This is when the underground drug rings started. Much like the prohibition of the old days. It wasn’t long before the GoP was hip to this, as well. They declared they weren’t go to go for it, but never stayed true to their word. Their commitment was to the streets and had no bearing what was going on behind closed doors.
Eventually, the president withdrew his gods of patrol, and things seemed to be back to the way they were. That was, of course, until the president, more like a dictator at this point, signed into law new methods of crime enforcement. It was much like the eye for an eye philosophy only to a more deadly degree. Every crime was punishable by death. Theft, Grand Theft Auto, Murder, Drug use, Drug abuse, Suicide, etc. Nobody agreed to this, but there’s nothing you can do about it. There was once an article in the paper declaring why this was a bad thing. The next day there was a retraction, and the author was never seen again. This was the last time anyone ever questioned the government or law.
I’m sure more people questioned the law, but nobody would ever know. Disappearing is so common around here. That neighbor that always shared his knowledge with you. He was sharing musical tastes one day and he mysteriously disappeared the next. No questions asked. That’s the unspoken philosophy of the government.
Police files become open domain. All you had to do was go to the library and every person who ever got into trouble was right there. They had a library dedicated to missing persons. They came from every walk of life. The strange thing was that 98 percent of all the missing persons was disagreeing about some new law, or the way things were and why. No questions asked.
Life went on like this for sometime. Soon, all factories were closed. All factory workers were given food and whatever was absolutely necessary. I didn’t hear the news, but apparently something was threatening the government at every factory in the world, and, alas, they were all shut down.
This is when I started investigating. I didn’t know why all factories were shut down, but I wanted to know why. I went from town to town in search of a reason. They were all boarded up and decorated with that oh, so lovely caution tape. I went from Ohio to Michigan and back again. Finally, I decided to look in this secluded factory in Flint, Michigan what I found was astounding.
Engraved into the walls and floor were messages.
Big brother is watching you.
The government killed my brother for writing to a newspaper.
Don’t smoke pot. The government will kill you.
The United States is a dictatorship. I’d fly to England if airports weren’t banned.
Tons of these. I don’t know who wrote them, but they’d been at it for a while. Then, I went back to the first factory I’d been at and discovered the messages, again. They were hard to decypher, but sure enough they were there. You see, unbeknownst to me, the government employed contractors to fill the floors in with concrete to fix these messages.
I didn’t know it then, but do now, propaganda was illegal. That explains why I never saw flyers for shows. I’d been to about 5 concerts since it all began. It was your usual pop crap, lyrically. They could outlaw questionable content, but couldn’t ban creative musicians. Of course, it didn’t take long to ban the microphone.
Drat! I hear someone coming....
Where was I? Ahh, the banning of the microphone. It appears some local artist said, “Fuck!” and “Government” in the same sentence. This resulted in death of the musician and microphone. It appeared, sometime later, that he wasn’t saying anything about the government. It was a metaphor of sorts. However, it was too late and the government, did indeed, fuck up. An apology letter was sent to his family along with a million dollars and many many bouquets of flowers.
After all this stuff that’s happened everyone just goes on with their daily life, and nobody seems to think anything is wrong. Yes, something had to be done about the chaos on the streets. After everything panned out, though, things should have gone back to normal. The death of somebody because he spat on the sidewalk is a bit excessive. This is dictatorship. Something our nation’s founders faught against. It’s alive and well and living in Washington. The end of the American dream, if there ever was such a thing.