ahdkaw

Meanwhile in a completely unrelated parallel universe...

George sat and stared glumly out of the coffee shop window. He watched as the people scurried past trying in vain to reach their destination without getting 'too wet' whilst the rain began to fall. He warmed his hands on his Moccachino, knowing he would be going out there soon.

George Washington (no relation) was a very ordinary man. He had learned at an early age, along with everyone else on his planet, that life was to be spent working, adding to the Productivity. 'Nose to the grindstone' they would say, 'Work is freedom.' They never mentioned it's unfortunate consequences on society.

Now, at the ripe old age of 156, he was becoming tired. He should really take himself in for processing, but he felt that there had to be something better.

Processing was essentially optional, but there was very often no option for most. The System could not support their own unless they could provide productivity in exchange. It was simple economics.

He picked up the leaflet again, and perused it's contents a little more. The official literature for the Processing Centres stated, "End your life with dignity. Purchase the luxury process and your chosen next of kin gets a free premium process when their time comes!"

He sat drinking his coffee and reading for some time. The coffee shop Prime was beginning to get agitated at this client who seemed to be taking an awful long time to drink a coffee.

George gathered up his accoutrements and stood up. Putting his large jacket on, he walked out of the door, pulling his hood over his head.

The weather was awful, what had earlier been light rain had now turned into heavy rain, with dark, thunderous clouds hanging overhead. The rain struck his face, and the wind wrapped around him and attempted to push him in the wrong direction. George grimaced and crossed the road heading up towards his home in Greater Purpose. It was short walk, no more than a mile, perhaps less. It wouldn't take long.

Halfway through his journey, just after passing the park, the soaking George stopped.
"Fuck it," he thought, and turned into a small alleyway heading off from the main road.
He stopped at a non-descript doorway and knocked 3 and a half times. Eventually, the door opened a touch. A shifty-looking, unshaven fellow squinted and looked out.

"C'mon, Frank, it's me, George," George impatiently said, "It's pissing out here."
"Come in, George, come in," Frank opened the door and stood aside.
George bundled into the bar and felt a huge relief for some unknown reason (probably the heady scent of beer that hung in the air). He took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack next to the bar. Frank quickly closed the door behind him.
"Usual?" Frank said as he passed George and headed to the bar.
"Yes please," George acknowledged, "And I'll have a bag of peanuts too."
Frank was already pouring the pint, and reached behind him to get the peanuts. He threw the pack on the counter in front of George.
"That'll be 37CC's please"
George fumbled in his pockets for the change, he knew he could afford it, but it was all in the fiddly square low-value FQ's.

He put them all on the counter and raised an eyebrow at Frank.
Frank huffed, gave George his beer, and began counting.
A few moments later, Frank nudged George.
"Thanks," George picked his his remaining FQ's and looked around the bar for any familiar faces. It was very dark, and hard to see beyond the jukebox.

Bars on the planet Superbia had been outlawed early in their present cultures birth, it was said that the bars were serving drinks that could 'addle the brain' and 'stimulate conversation', and such things were unproductive to the whole. The authorities were of course fully aware of the illegal side-street bars that had begun appearing over the last 15 years.

However, they had become so bloated and apathetic from their years of luxurious living, they did not crack down as hard as they originally had in those heady days. In fact, a lot of the top hierarchy had their own private bars, with drink smuggled in, purchased from organised criminal networks.

George moved away from the bar and headed to his usual corner. As he passed by the other tables, he glanced at them, not recognising anyone. He reached his corner and was somewhat upset when he saw someone, or rather, something, sitting drunkenly in his chair.
"Hi George," said what could only be described as an inebriated zebra, "I'm Ed The Inebriated Zebra"
"Er hi," stammered George, "Erm.. "
"Sit down, I something important to tell you."
George sat down at the opposite end of the table to the inebriated zebra, and took a large gulp of his beer.
"How do you know who I am?" George finally summoned up.
"Sunshineface knows you." Ed pointed a drunken hoof at George.
"Who's 'Sunshineface'?" George was starting to become exasperated.
"Later, drink first."

Shit. This is not good. I awake to see a room, some kind of padded room. My eyes twinge from the pain of the light. What had happened to me? I furiously scanned my databanks, they stored a continuous stream of sensual reality automatically. I pulled up the stream from my awakening and moved backwards through time.

Blackness. Then a sudden implosion. Stop. Forward. Big explosion. Skip back further. Myself exiting the weapons store returning to my commanding officer. Stop. Forward. Entering the weapons store with orders from my commanding officer. Get the guns.

I fast-forward to just before the explosion. Steady. Frame-by-frame now, scanning every sensation for something amiss. Anything. A definite sulphar odor permeating from the Eastern section of the store, the warhead storage area. Intense scrutiny of the surrounding area provides nothing to go on. Then the explosion starts, a string of explosions, in domino effect from one warhead to the next. Bodies are slowly flung across the room, thrown unforgivingly into walls, columns, through glass doorways. Broken and bloody bodies lying around, more explosions. Getting closer now. A large fire blazes through the storage area. People still capable of movement rushing towards the exits in a wild panic. Huge chunks of shrapnel cutting through those unlucky enough to be in the way. I slowly turn and run back out. Pain. I was hit. Blackness.

Beyond that, the same blackness until I return to the present time.

I tried to sit up, I was strapped down to a table of some kind, I looked around at the room. Plain white padded room. Your standard fare, not much to describe.

Open communications to the Collective. *Communications Blocked*

Shit.

-----------------------------------------------

At that moment, the door to the padded room opened. A human walked in. A human?

"Hi," the woman smiled at me, "I'm Ypicitus, but you can call me Yp."
"Fuck you!" my records have a whole section on this woman.
"I'm just here to let you know, your communications array is being blocked," she became serious now, "I've been advised that any attempt to open communications, or circumvent our block, will lead to instant death."
"I know who you are you bitch," I raged, "Go ahead, kill me now, you won't get any help from me."
Ypicitus snarled, "We already have what we want from you, you're only alive because I am going to disconnect you," she paused, possibly for effect, "for good."
"You fucking whore! When I escape I'll have your head on fucking pole!"

She ignored me, and left the room. The door sealed shut.

I tell you what sickens me, the observational bodies that bleat on about water shortage in various parts of the world and other worthwhile causes. Rather than helping to find a solution to any issue they would rather simply sit back in their smug-seats saying how everything is terrible. They are in a unique position to actually help to solve the problems of the world, but they choose to bleat, whine and gloat.

If you want a simple answer to the worlds woes, it's ban laissez-faire capiltalism, and confiscate the earning and jail the criminals involved in profiting from the suffering of the public.

This is no nationalistic fervour I spout here, for in my opinion all humans are entitled to the same living standards, and we are all members of the planet Earth. There is no immigration, emigration (unless you are ultra-rich and have your ashes spread in space (poor space)), because we are all one. Remember that, come 2012. :p

This has been one of my rants, and you are welcome to it, you slags.

Farewell for now.

PS: Don't bother trying to comment (or registering), I haven't finished the anti-spam code yet (about 1 yr in now I think).

PPS: If you really want to register, then just email me on my gmail account, I'm sure that the half-brain that got you to this site, will probably serve you well in working out what my email address is.