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Distilled Enough Variables Into Something Approaching Immediate Fate

Distilled Enough Variables Into Something Approaching Immediate Fate

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Published by: api-25949813 on Jul 17, 2008
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09/06/2012

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“Like ever expanding and contracting universes, the role of man withinthe competing power structures is to always swallow, accept, and thenrebel – and then overthrow. These things come and go in cycles, andthey always have. They always will! The force of rebellion, of disobedience and dissent are the onlytrue meaningful pursuits (which could be conceived of as moral). Therebel does not seek an affirmation of power; rather, he seeks to negatethe imposition of power upon himself. This negation is meaningfulbecause it is an ongoing requiem for the inviolability of man’s soul,hovering ghost like amidst the ruins of the physical world.However, once the rebel has ousted whichever repressive elite,the mathematics of the Game pretty much guarantee that the vacuumis filled immediately. We must try and break this mathematicalcertainty, and not become brutal too. It is self evident that the currentparadigm has gone on for long enough. Civil society will explode eachtime the social hierarchies become too atavistic, too unfair, tooimbalanced. Man will no longer accept ruling families which state: “Allthis is mine” whilst his very own mother and father fight for the smalldignity of paying the rent and bringing healthy food to the table. The time has come, my friends, and we are each others catalystsin the cycle which must grind on. Thy will be done on Earth, my darlingpeople, for there is no Heaven.” –
Baron Hermehildo Xavier Faustano, excerpt of his exit speech, uponhis expulsion from the Order of Malta in 1968.
ONE : 25
th
March 2008
It had been a few days since the world had entirely gone to Hell.Everyone left alive had gone to Hell, and they were so consumed byanger and madness that they did not stop to think where all the deadhad gone. If I could tell you a major urban space had escaped withoutbeing incinerated, I would. I also wish I could tell you that thecountryside was not overrun by marauding gangs who behaved morepoorly than the horsemen of the Apocalypse in their treatment of thenice simple folk who just wanted to try and get along. No one got alongafter springtime 2008 on this fine planet, Earth, and no one knewwhose fault it was. Certainly not theirs, and if it wasn’t theirs, then theguilty must pay. Several decades of meaninglessness and thepromotion of Isiah Berlin’s negative freedoms on the people had leftthem a little mad. John Smith looked out over London, and he held back the tears.“Must not allow the emotions to control me”, he thought. Before himlaid a city in ruins, with a massive cavity in the middle where thebomb, or bombs, had gone off. The Gherkin, Natwest Tower, andCanada Tower were all toppled. The latter was brought down by three
 
airliner strikes. The third strike (at the same impact zone) brought thebuilding down sideways, like a felled tree. John put his second bullet-proof vest on, tied the Kevlar guardstighter around his legs, and put his carbon fibre motocross helmet backon. He walked over to his Kona Coilair bike, and checked that theshotgun and SA80 assault rifle were fully loaded. Strapped to his chestwas a Glock 10mm pistol, also fully loaded. As he checked the pistol,he ran his forefinger over the two holes in his outer vest, where he’dbeen fired upon last week. John winced. “Damn them all…” hewhispered softly to himself. Last week was the first time he’d everkilled anyone, but he did not mind, as it was a truly kill or be killedscenario. He checked the pressure in his tyres, they were firm and thetreads were new. He put his leather gloves on. They had small ballbearings in the knuckles, as well as chain mail over the palms. If he’dlost use of his hands then it was all over. He needed his hands to besteady and protected. He checked the contents of his backpack. Hereached round and checked his sword was fully fastened. Rumour hadit that when the bullets ran out, which the rumour said they wouldsoon, people would need much more personal protection. John was incredibly heavy with all his gear. He constantly had totrue the rear wheel on the bicycle he rode. He tried to get strongerwheels last week, but that’s when the hail of bullets almost killed him,he retaliated and wasted a whole magazine of NATO issue 5.56mmassault rifle ammunition. He killed a man. He was a young black manwearing baggy jeans and a big black hooded top. The others fled. Johndid not know why certain people did not wear armour – what with theway the world was. As he checked the rear wheel, he smiled as it wasperfectly straight. He sat down on the bike, and the rear suspensioncompressed slightly, which was good. John took good care of hismountain bike. Steve used to help him with this a lot. The view from the top of Hampstead Heath, just off theroundabout by Jack Straw’s castle, was beautiful under normalcircumstances. John reminisced how he and his best friend would rideup here all the time, be it winter or summer, and get chased away bythe park wardens, who did not like the thought of grown men ridingtoys over their protected Heath. John allowed himself to smile a little.He had to stay positive, he thought. After surviving the initial Madnesshe told himself he had to believe that he would find her again. Withoutany news of her death, he had to assume, he thought, that she wasalive and well and looking for him too. “She was clever, she had closefriends, she would not have been caught up in the Madness…” hethought, but then turned his mind back to the here and now. It waseasier this way for him. He knew he had a clear mission, and nothingelse really mattered. He had fallen in love just so very recently, andfallen deeply into something quite profound. Then the attackshappened…The Madness. She was in Cambridge at the time, visiting a
 
friend. “Probably safer than London,” thoughts of her flashing back intothe forefront of his consciousness, “although on the first day I did seereports of truck bombs destroying various colleges…” The smile hadfallen from his face. He’d been alone for ten days now since his bestfriend was shot dead. Steve had been wearing a bullet-proof vest, butthe sniper round ripped into him, killing him almost instantaneously.Steve was also trying to find someone, a girl called Alice. Since he’dbeen alone, John had kept talking, but to himself. It helped keep awaythe darkest type of desolation and loneliness.“I’ll find her or die trying, it’s simple. When we’re together, hereor in Heaven or in another life, she’ll know I tried. That’s all I can do,isn’t it?” With this thought he coughed a small cry out, but quicklycomposed himself. Snot hung from his nose, and his eyes were redfrom the forced back tears. John cycled back to his house just before sunset. He passed asmall store that hadn’t been too badly ransacked and took some foodto cook later. His gas was still working for now, he did not know for howmuch longer though. From habit, he kept checking his mobile phone,although there was no signal. His battery was about to die, so he keptswitching it off and on. Steve and he had created a sort of electricitysupply by taking many car batteries and hooking them up. Steve wasthe mechanically minded one. With him gone, John felt a little lost.He’d have to learn things quickly.As he opened his front door of the (thankfully) top floor flat inIslington, he heard a vehicle down on the main road. “Someone stillstupid enough to drive around,” he mumbled, “and brave enough torev the engine for everyone to hear…” BANG BANG BANG BANG!!! Johnflinched, the calibre of the weapon was high, and the shockwaves werefelt, even at this distance. He could no longer hear the car. John fed his goldfish and stirred the water with a straw. He thenspent five minutes blowing bubbles beneath the surface to aerate thewater for the fish. He tapped the glass and smiled at the bobbingcreatures – they looked healthy to him. He then sat and looked at herphotograph – his favourite one, taken on her birthday. He stroked theimage and kept saying “Baby” over and over again. John knew there were others living on his street, but the mutualdistrust was too high for any sort of communication. During the earlystages of the Madness he watched from his window as people weredragged outside and shot. There was a maniacal senselessness to it, asort of randomness and irrationality that led John to believe that thiswas a disease or mental virus that had infected people. Either that, ormore simplistically, the people (all people) were acting insane becausethe status quo had changed into Hell. Armageddon does differentthings to different people, he thought. The religious have fared badly.Something has tripped in their minds, and they cannot get up.

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