Killing In The Name Of-RATM Contents - Diamond Theft - Wake Up! 5 pages. ---------------------------------- 5page future story, kinda 1984ish- WAKE UP! Part I: "What the land of the free? Whoever told you that is your enemy!"- RATM Wake up! Wake up! The alarm rang in his ears. He slowly opened his eyes to face another new day in a hostile world. The robot brought the clothes that best fitted Ianov’s mental frequency. "Hello, Sire." Said the monotone voice of the robot. "Hello, Rob." Answered Ianov. Fifteen minutes later Ianov found himself in the school TespV (it had originally TSPV- transportation vehicle, but now people just called it TespV). The Chauffeur robot greeted him in the always joyful voice that lied to no one. Ianov sat in his assigned seat put his personal surround-sound headphones on and stared at the ThreeVision in front of him. It gave reports of the latest United Planets battle against some stupid third galaxy planet. It told how the glorious warriors fighting in the name of freedom, democracy and the sacred Ideals, had won a marvelous victory against the disarmed Pagan Anti-Idealists. It was followed by a speech from the United Planets President, it glorified the Republic’s majestic warriors, stated that the PAI will no longer be tolerated and that full justice will be affirmed. Then came four minutes of intense advertising. It dawned on Ianov that nothing bad ever happened to the UP, even though some foolish old men insisted that no one in the galaxy still believed that the UP was a land of freedom, that they were looked upon as tyrants and imperialists. Of course that all cow dung and Ianov knew it- the Teacher said so, and so did the ThreeVision! At last Ianov got to the Martian Education City, it had taken him an hour even though they were flying there. Oh well, thought Ianov, daily routine. The ancient flag dating from god knows when, with the stars and the ever visible red white and blue. They entered the docking station, got off the TespV and headed for their designated Learning Areas. On the Ground Transportation Unit he met one of his friends who had religion class with him. His friend told him about this stupid little place on Earth that used to have a silly little religion called Islam. Ianov laughed- he was deeply amused by it. He went to his first class: Math, here they learned of how to use math stuff in real life. It was a one tri class since there really wasn’t that much to cover. And so the day passed, nothing happened. Well come to think of something did happen. On his way to history he heard these four kids, about his age really, but it didn’t matter. They were talking about how they had heard a Lunarian call them American imperialists. Then they were talking about this music group that said all these crazy things about the UP government. The music group said that it brainwashed people and that it lied and that it didn’t believe in the Ideals and that it was using them as a way to gain hegemony. Ianov’s mind swirled and then something clicked in place, it all fit in now: the Lunarian, the foolish old men, everything. Then these eight Teachers came into the vehicle and grabbed the four kids, threw them up against a wall, stated that they were wanted thought criminals and that they were to be sent to Earth for Readjustment. Part II: "How long? Not long, ‘cause what you reap is what you sow."- RATM Two years passed and on Ianov’s graduation day a news reel began right in the middle of the ceremony. "The UP government has been overthrown, we repeat the UP government has been overthrown." Nothing else was heard the room entered in chaos the ThreeVision died out. Then people carrying large automatic lasers came in through the doors. Their leader went to the microphone, picked it up and said "People, the reign of tyranny has come to an end. We are the UP Freedom Fighters. . ." Part III: "What did you dream? It’s alright we told you what to dream."- Pink Floyd Of course it was all silly, he thought. He was an old man, an important man that couldn’t intimidate a fly. Yet those who crossed him knew better than to view him as the kindly old grandfather type. He looked just like the type- large eyes, bald and slightly overweight and he had a friendly manner. But a careful analysis by an expert showed an entirely different man. A man of cold thought, a man who calculated his every reaction, word and thought, a man who knew and respected the Machiavellian theory of "The end justifies the means." He never went through the ordinary means of destroying political competition, he just sent a short standard note written by a regular computer, with the most popular font and with no signature. The note was a sentence to political death, all it said was "Do now that which you may be forced to do later.". The usual procedure once you got the Note (as it was reverently named by the insiders) you would make an appointment to meet him, he would keep you waiting in the saloon for about two hours while he talked to some curious tourist. After the two hours expired (along with your morale), you would be received. In the meeting room there would be only one chair, which was occupied by the Old Man (otherwise known as the Ancient and Him). This chair would be in a dark corner where there would be no way to see his facial expressions. So you had to stand up with a magnified light (coming from the window, which served as magnifying glass for the sun). He would never speak the first word, he wouldn’t even greet you, the Ancient would patiently sit in his corner of the room and look at you. After a while you would inevitably speak. After you had finished stating your thesis, he would ask you what you wanted from him. By this time, even the strongest of men would have had their spirits broken into pieces, chewed, swallowed, digested, regurgitated and then flushed down the toilet. This is by no means an exaggeration. The UP President had been in such a position once, and a second situation had NOT ever recurred. This is perhaps the shortest and most scratch-the-surface description possible. The Old Man been in power when the first Republic fell at the hands of the Freedom Fighters and miraculously enough he stayed in power, and in fact gained power. This man was revered by all, feared by all and obeyed by all. Many people have stated that presidents had no real power throughout history- that they were simple front men. This was probably true, but never had this been as true as right now. Although the masses barely knew this all-powerful god amongst men, he knew of them- he knew their wants, their necessities, their weaknesses and thus he knew how to use them. This was the man who sat down in his almighty Throne, thinking these thoughts. Here before him was a young yet bright lad. He was obviously intimidated- no better yet: frightened. He didn’t know how to start out; his name was Ianov. Ianov had never met Him before, he had heard of Him, but then they all knew Him. Ianov was partially blinded by that accursed window of his, and worse yet the Ancient was in freakin’ dark corner. Goddammit! Thought Ianov, he then realized that his knees were trembling, he tried to control his nerves. "Hello, S- sir." Ianov’s complexion twitched into a smile. "’Bit cold in here. . ." He stopped abruptly- interrupted by the Old Man’s impatientvoice. "Get to the point Boy!" The interruption had had the desired effect, thought the Old Man, the boy was obviously disturbed. But He also noticed that the boy got back on track quickly, and on the right track too- good, thought the Ancient. "Sir, I got the Note," Ianov hesitated for a second, waiting- no actually expecting an interruption, but it didn’t come. "So I got in touch with you, I wanted to know what I did wrong, and what I should do to correct it." "So, you want to strike a deal, don’t you." The voice of the Ancient was cold and sounded routine. "It would be useful to know what I did wrong first though." His sudden burst of bravery amazed Ianov, he then quickly realized it may have been amistake. "Good, you’re not wasting my time- you’re getting to the point, I value that." Said the Ancient, with His cold uncaring voice. "Do you take fencing Ianov?" "No, Sir. I don’t." "Oh, perhaps you should- it teaches one valuable skills." Ianov caught thehint. "I sign up the next time I pass by the Sport City." "How old are you?" The Old Man asked, but he already knew. He had read the boy’s dossier before the meeting. "Turning thirty, Sir." "Hmm." A flat statement, like he was contemplating the meaning of the answer. "Do you know what you’re getting into?" "I believe so, Sir." "NO! You believe nothing, you either know, or you don’t! Now answer my question!" "No Sir, I don’t!" "That’s what I thought." He had calmed down, but there was a certain edge to his voice. "Look, you want to join the Game, you never win or for that matter, play alone. "You make allies, you go with the mainstream, because if you don’t you will be crushed. The next few years will be one lousy, terrible and painful test, and guess what. Every time you try to brake away, you will be broken, smashed and put under Our foot! But, so long as you play by the rules, which are never told, you will learn them yourself, the hard way, you’ll be treated like a younger brother. And if you’re still hanging tight and with us at the end you’ll be one of us. You may go." Ianov left, his brain once more twirling as it did twenty years before, and he realized that nothing, absolutely nothing had changed, and that it never would. Everything was controlled by hidden forces, everything had an ulterior motive. They could have as many coups and revolutions as they wanted, and they would all be setup to preserve the Way, set by Them and controlled by Them. What’s more the Ancient was nothing but a little pawn in a vast and elusive web of calculation, analysis and direction. There was never such a thing as spontaneous mass reactions, mass rebellion or opinion, They told us what to dream.
Contents - Diamond Theft - Wake Up! 5 pages. ---------------------------------- 5page future story, kinda 1984ish- WAKE UP! Part I: "What the land of the free? Whoever told you that is your enemy!"- RATM Wake up! Wake up! The alarm rang in his ears. He slowly opened his eyes to face another new day in a hostile world. The robot brought the clothes that best fitted Ianov’s mental frequency. "Hello, Sire." Said the monotone voice of the robot. "Hello, Rob." Answered Ianov. Fifteen minutes later Ianov found himself in the school TespV (it had originally TSPV- transportation vehicle, but now people just called it TespV). The Chauffeur robot greeted him in the always joyful voice that lied to no one. Ianov sat in his assigned seat put his personal surround-sound headphones on and stared at the ThreeVision in front of him. It gave reports of the latest United Planets battle against some stupid third galaxy planet. It told how the glorious warriors fighting in the name of freedom, democracy and the sacred Ideals, had won a marvelous victory against the disarmed Pagan Anti-Idealists. It was followed by a speech from the United Planets President, it glorified the Republic’s majestic warriors, stated that the PAI will no longer be tolerated and that full justice will be affirmed. Then came four minutes of intense advertising. It dawned on Ianov that nothing bad ever happened to the UP, even though some foolish old men insisted that no one in the galaxy still believed that the UP was a land of freedom, that they were looked upon as tyrants and imperialists. Of course that all cow dung and Ianov knew it- the Teacher said so, and so did the ThreeVision! At last Ianov got to the Martian Education City, it had taken him an hour even though they were flying there. Oh well, thought Ianov, daily routine. The ancient flag dating from god knows when, with the stars and the ever visible red white and blue. They entered the docking station, got off the TespV and headed for their designated Learning Areas. On the Ground Transportation Unit he met one of his friends who had religion class with him. His friend told him about this stupid little place on Earth that used to have a silly little religion called Islam. Ianov laughed- he was deeply amused by it. He went to his first class: Math, here they learned of how to use math stuff in real life. It was a one tri class since there really wasn’t that much to cover. And so the day passed, nothing happened. Well come to think of something did happen. On his way to history he heard these four kids, about his age really, but it didn’t matter. They were talking about how they had heard a Lunarian call them American imperialists. Then they were talking about this music group that said all these crazy things about the UP government. The music group said that it brainwashed people and that it lied and that it didn’t believe in the Ideals and that it was using them as a way to gain hegemony. Ianov’s mind swirled and then something clicked in place, it all fit in now: the Lunarian, the foolish old men, everything. Then these eight Teachers came into the vehicle and grabbed the four kids, threw them up against a wall, stated that they were wanted thought criminals and that they were to be sent to Earth for Readjustment. Part II: "How long? Not long, ‘cause what you reap is what you sow."- RATM Two years passed and on Ianov’s graduation day a news reel began right in the middle of the ceremony. "The UP government has been overthrown, we repeat the UP government has been overthrown." Nothing else was heard the room entered in chaos the ThreeVision died out. Then people carrying large automatic lasers came in through the doors. Their leader went to the microphone, picked it up and said "People, the reign of tyranny has come to an end. We are the UP Freedom Fighters. . ." Part III: "What did you dream? It’s alright we told you what to dream."- Pink Floyd Of course it was all silly, he thought. He was an old man, an important man that couldn’t intimidate a fly. Yet those who crossed him knew better than to view him as the kindly old grandfather type. He looked just like the type- large eyes, bald and slightly overweight and he had a friendly manner. But a careful analysis by an expert showed an entirely different man. A man of cold thought, a man who calculated his every reaction, word and thought, a man who knew and respected the Machiavellian theory of "The end justifies the means." He never went through the ordinary means of destroying political competition, he just sent a short standard note written by a regular computer, with the most popular font and with no signature. The note was a sentence to political death, all it said was "Do now that which you may be forced to do later.". The usual procedure once you got the Note (as it was reverently named by the insiders) you would make an appointment to meet him, he would keep you waiting in the saloon for about two hours while he talked to some curious tourist. After the two hours expired (along with your morale), you would be received. In the meeting room there would be only one chair, which was occupied by the Old Man (otherwise known as the Ancient and Him). This chair would be in a dark corner where there would be no way to see his facial expressions. So you had to stand up with a magnified light (coming from the window, which served as magnifying glass for the sun). He would never speak the first word, he wouldn’t even greet you, the Ancient would patiently sit in his corner of the room and look at you. After a while you would inevitably speak. After you had finished stating your thesis, he would ask you what you wanted from him. By this time, even the strongest of men would have had their spirits broken into pieces, chewed, swallowed, digested, regurgitated and then flushed down the toilet. This is by no means an exaggeration. The UP President had been in such a position once, and a second situation had NOT ever recurred. This is perhaps the shortest and most scratch-the-surface description possible. The Old Man been in power when the first Republic fell at the hands of the Freedom Fighters and miraculously enough he stayed in power, and in fact gained power. This man was revered by all, feared by all and obeyed by all. Many people have stated that presidents had no real power throughout history- that they were simple front men. This was probably true, but never had this been as true as right now. Although the masses barely knew this all-powerful god amongst men, he knew of them- he knew their wants, their necessities, their weaknesses and thus he knew how to use them. This was the man who sat down in his almighty Throne, thinking these thoughts. Here before him was a young yet bright lad. He was obviously intimidated- no better yet: frightened. He didn’t know how to start out; his name was Ianov. Ianov had never met Him before, he had heard of Him, but then they all knew Him. Ianov was partially blinded by that accursed window of his, and worse yet the Ancient was in freakin’ dark corner. Goddammit! Thought Ianov, he then realized that his knees were trembling, he tried to control his nerves. "Hello, S- sir." Ianov’s complexion twitched into a smile. "’Bit cold in here. . ." He stopped abruptly- interrupted by the Old Man’s impatientvoice. "Get to the point Boy!" The interruption had had the desired effect, thought the Old Man, the boy was obviously disturbed. But He also noticed that the boy got back on track quickly, and on the right track too- good, thought the Ancient. "Sir, I got the Note," Ianov hesitated for a second, waiting- no actually expecting an interruption, but it didn’t come. "So I got in touch with you, I wanted to know what I did wrong, and what I should do to correct it." "So, you want to strike a deal, don’t you." The voice of the Ancient was cold and sounded routine. "It would be useful to know what I did wrong first though." His sudden burst of bravery amazed Ianov, he then quickly realized it may have been amistake. "Good, you’re not wasting my time- you’re getting to the point, I value that." Said the Ancient, with His cold uncaring voice. "Do you take fencing Ianov?" "No, Sir. I don’t." "Oh, perhaps you should- it teaches one valuable skills." Ianov caught thehint. "I sign up the next time I pass by the Sport City." "How old are you?" The Old Man asked, but he already knew. He had read the boy’s dossier before the meeting. "Turning thirty, Sir." "Hmm." A flat statement, like he was contemplating the meaning of the answer. "Do you know what you’re getting into?" "I believe so, Sir." "NO! You believe nothing, you either know, or you don’t! Now answer my question!" "No Sir, I don’t!" "That’s what I thought." He had calmed down, but there was a certain edge to his voice. "Look, you want to join the Game, you never win or for that matter, play alone. "You make allies, you go with the mainstream, because if you don’t you will be crushed. The next few years will be one lousy, terrible and painful test, and guess what. Every time you try to brake away, you will be broken, smashed and put under Our foot! But, so long as you play by the rules, which are never told, you will learn them yourself, the hard way, you’ll be treated like a younger brother. And if you’re still hanging tight and with us at the end you’ll be one of us. You may go." Ianov left, his brain once more twirling as it did twenty years before, and he realized that nothing, absolutely nothing had changed, and that it never would. Everything was controlled by hidden forces, everything had an ulterior motive. They could have as many coups and revolutions as they wanted, and they would all be setup to preserve the Way, set by Them and controlled by Them. What’s more the Ancient was nothing but a little pawn in a vast and elusive web of calculation, analysis and direction. There was never such a thing as spontaneous mass reactions, mass rebellion or opinion, They told us what to dream.