Silverhand

Fat Man and Skinny Guy comics, Sushicrowd, and Jet Blast Joe, present...

Silverhand!

A sci-fi comic.

After every great war, we say "never again", and we make decisions to keep it from happening again. Unfortunately, those decisions are the seeds of the next great war.

Silverhand

"And I should take your word on the matter because...why?"

"We are bound by the geneva conventions, just as you are, i remind you. and we want to prevent as much bloodshed as"

"You have no intention of honoring any agreements you make here".

"Just give us a chance to talk about it, to reason"

"No"

"But you surely want peace as much as we do"

"Correction, envoy. I want peace MORE than you and your tyrant masters do. But I want true peace, with liberty and law. Not a false peace at the mercy of criminals.

"Just agree to a cease fire while we reach an agreement"

"There will be no agreement. Your way and God's way are two different ways, any yours must be destroyed. That is all"

Silverhand, commander of the Confederated Leage of Free States, gave a silent signal, and one of his many guards stepped from his post and cut off the NAU envoy's head in a fluid motion. Exactly as had been planned earlier. The envoy was useless, but the recording device concealed in his tie pin was a perfect messenger. The foolish man had willfully replaced himself. Speaking to the corpse, Silverhand continued.

"You know that I know your crimes, both against my person and against my nation. Your greed is known. Your secrets have been revealed to me. Your pretense as a democratically elected government no longer amuses me. while you live there will be no peace, for my objective is to destroy you".

Silverhand ordered the corpse returned to the NAU chopper that waited outside under heavy guard. There would be no trouble from them. their mission was to gather intel, and Silverhand was willing to let them gather it, as long as they took the information he supplied to them, and nothing more.

...

Years Earlier:

"Prisoner 759747, your parole has been approved".

Cowboy slowly rose from his cot. Prison hadn't been kind to him, and even though he still retained his athletic frame, he had none of his former energy. He didnt have any of the qualities that made him Leutenant... something. His texas accent and daring nature that granted him the callsign "Cowboy" were gone, replaced with a vaguely menacing scowl and a tendancy to communicate in barely intelligible growls.

Prisoner 759747 and the guard walked the halls of the mostly empty wing, past wardens that betrayed no acknowledgement of his existence. They continued to a small waiting room with a mirrored glass on one side. a small metal drawer was below the glass, crooked on its hinges. The guard pushed Prisoner 759747 forward.

"Prisoner 759747" said a flat voice behind the glass. He gave a slight nod. The drawer opend swiftly and Cowboy stepped back just in time. The sharpened bottom of the drawer stopped inches from cutting a deep gash across Cowboy's knees. The flat voice stifled a curse, and continued.

"Get your shit"

In the drawer there was a rumpled, dusty ball of cloth. It had once been a set of army dress greens. Cowboy picked it up. In the bottom, below the ragged uniform there were a few cards and bent up bits of metal that had once been pins. he noticed a small peice of metal that looked like the corner of one of his silver bars. He picked up the twisted bit of metal. It was scarred. Forcibly torn apart with some tool.

"Hurry up"

Cowboy pushed his dirty collection of expired ATM cards, meal punch cards, and fortune cookie papers together and picked them up. He dropped the shards of his bar into his pocket.


After another short walk, Cowboy and a different guard got into an unmarked police cruiser. Cowboy was put into the back. They drove in silence. The guard was one of the new ones. He was probably just a kid when Cowboy was put in. Probably watched the news spin of it on TV.

...

From the Illuminati archives, attachment 8 of a report on the history of Laoghaire Uiniell, Maj. USA, A.K.A. Silverhand. The date is uncertain, but it's content reveals that it takes place after the planning of operation: Bankrupt, but before its actual execution.



MEMORANDUM FOR: Mr. Jones

FROM: Mr. Sanders

SUBJECT: This Election.

1. The position of President Thomas regarding withdrawl from Iran is unacceptable. For our continued security and the successful passage of document 11466, Patriot Act 4, our military's continued presence in the region is required.

2. Our media contacts have been forming public opinion to the contrary in order to prepare them to accept doc. 11466. While blind faith in the media is acceptable for the general public, you should be above such things. Your public lip-service to placate the reporters is acceptable, but I fear your private advice to the president also sways in that direction.

3. Under no circumstances shall you allow the president to order troop withdrawls. Remember, the President is replaceable, as are you.

Mr. Sanders
Director of administrative personell, US div.

...

At 7 years old, Evan was used to being hated. His father was a traitor whos false orders caused a major defeat for the US in Iran. He looked that up himself quite recently. Before that, he was unsure why all the adults and some of the older children said his name the way they said curse words.

Laoghire UiNiell Jr. The Traitor.

Evan used his middle name as much as possible, and stayed out of the way of adults and the other orphans at the church home as often as he could, even to the point of showing up for meals twenty minutes late or 5 minutes early, depending on the meal. Breakfast was an early one. Lunch was usually skipped altogether. Dinner was late.

Now he looked out of one of the dingy attic windows at the grounds below. shabbily clad children of all ages swarmed on a dusty yard and some playground equipment that needed repairs. The attic was Evan's private kingdom, accessable through a gap in the plywood ceiling of the 4th floor closet that served as his quarters. The 4th floor was largely empty. The dormitory rooms on each side of the dingy hallway were locked and empty, and except when some of the older kids or an adult came to remind Evan of his father's sins and beat him, it was solitary. Evan opened his book, "The Wild Outdoors: A backpacker's Guide". Evan wanted to go to the wild outdoors ever since he read that it was a pristine wilderness untouched by humans. He couldn't read all the words, but the guide had enough photos that Evan could imagine the trees and mountains stretching out of their bounds in the book and into the attic around him.

...

UiNiell slowly regained conciousness. He couldn't see. He couldnt hear. He experienced nothing save his own concious thought. he tried to call out, but could not. He had no mouth. Trying not to panic, UiNiell attempted to figure out how he got here. He remembered falling on the field of battle, and as he attempted to remember more, it slowly came back to him.

It was sandy and hot. They had encountered a superior force of Iranian infantry, but were beating them back, using the enemy's greater numbers and the narrow canyon against them. The narrow walls of the canyon kept the Iranian force bottled up, and their heavy firepower ignited easily when their light machine guns tore through the enemy's overloaded cargo trucks and heavily armed off road vehicles.

"Inbound air support from 255 degrees sir."

Maj. UiNiell glanced in the direction and quickly registered a pair of A-10 ground support aircraft heading in their direction. Lt. Cowboy spoke up.

"Sir, those birds can't hit the canyon from that direction"

UiNiell grabbed the radio from a corporal and yelled instructions into the radio. Looking up, he noticed that the A10s didn't respond, but began to dive, noses pointed at the small formation lead by UiNiell. Their cannons lit up and bombs released.

"OH SHIT!"

It was Cowboy. he dove into a foxhole. UiNiell ordered the rest of his soldiers to take cover from aircraft. But it was too late. explosions destroyed the few fighting vehicles and large bullets ripped the soldiers into bloody chunks.


So this is death. Floating around in a void, with your memories to either damn you or glorify you. UiNiell had hoped for something more.

...

"If I die in battle, take my head if you can."

"Sir?"

"I dont want my corpse to be abused by the enemy. If they want to drag a body through the streets, let it be an unidentifiable one."

When Cowboy heard the jet engines fade into the distance, he dug himself out. The first thing he thought of was the state of the unit, and the second was the state of his commander. diesel fuel fires burned from the cracked fighting vehicles. bodies in varrying states of incineration were strewn in disarray. Most of UiNiell lay nearby. the rest was either sawn off by shrapnel or burned away. He remembered a conversation they had once at mess and drew his knife. He couldn't wait. The Iranians wouldn't. Cowboy's knife was razor sharp and cut through UiNiell's flesh easily until it hit spine. For that, Cowboy gave a sharp twist and pulled the head free of the rest of the broken body. the body still wore a scrap of uniform. Cowboy tore it off and wrapped the head in it.

Very interesting, what that leutenant brought back. They took him away, a pity, but very interesting the head he brought. The bag says major, a gold leaf, definitely a specimen worth a second chance; or if not, a stepping stone to somebody who will.

He was a doctor by trade, but his mission was second chances. He had secured funding from DARPA to pursue methods of re-animating the near dead. So far he had nothing to show for his research, but all that was circumstance. He couldnt keep the majority of his specimens under the proper controls, but a smaller specimen, a brain, was small enough to keep in his cramped laboratory and out of sight of prying eyes. now the doctor gently placed UiNiell's severed head in a jar filled with proprietary fluid and concealed it in a bag.

...

MEMORANDUM FOR: Mr. Sanders

FROM: Mr. Jones

SUBJECT: Day off.

1. I request a day off on 22 MAR 49, to celebrate the death of that soft bellied coward Mr. Thomas.

2. I do not want to be anywhere near the white house when the plan springs into action.

3. Our loyal vice president has been scheduled to be out of the area on that day. He will be reading a book to school chidren in Ohio.

Mr. Jones
Secretary of Defense.


Mr. Sanders was dissapointed in Mr. Jones' incompetence. His advice to the president was less than persuasive, costing the organization time and money. Operation: bankrupt had to be pushed back because of troop withdrawls in the past few months. There were only a few thousand soldiers left in Iraq, and they would be gone before the department of the middle east could sway the government of iran to attack them. Mr. Jones' plan to have the president assasinated was interesting, but it didn't have the media punch required. Mr. Thomas wasn't a great enough president to be a suitable martyr. While Mr. Jones was correct that the death of the president would give them freedom to spin his death any way they liked, Mr. Sanders only wanted to spin the assasination one way. It had to be seen as an attack on America, on freedom, on democracy. For that, he would need to destroy an icon of American life...THE WHITE HOUSE. It was perfect. a terrorist attack on the white house would ignite patriotic fever and get people to agree with anything that was "American". It was the perfect prelude to operation: bankrupt. He dialed his desk phone.

"Mr. Smithfield, This is Mr. Sanders"

"Yes?"

"We need to plan an event for the 21stof March, a day that will live in infamy"

...

Cowboy suspiciously rubbed the government welfare card in his pocket. He didnt like it. he liked to use cash, coins, real money. His few rumpled dollar bills were not legal tender any more. It was because of 321. Everything was because of 321. The corner had a mug shot of Cowboy, with an orange border around the picture and the edge of the card, marking him as a security risk. "Mitchell Pratt" was written beside the picture, with "FELONY CONVICTION" below it. He had to use the card to pass through one of the many checkpoints that were at strategic locations around the city. He didnt like being tracked like a farm animal or a rat in a maze. Cowboy aproached a checkpoint. "remember 321" was written on the edge of the roof to the guard shack. There were few other people passing through. The morning rush had ended, and the guards were joking with each other as they scanned the government ID cards. A fat policeman in armor and armed with an automatic rifle tried his best to look intimidating, but looked more like a toad that was annoyed at having to stand up on its hind legs.

...

"I did a picture for you"

822 held up the crayon drawing for Dr. Gu. It was a portrait of him and his clipboard. Though the drawing didn't display any particular artistic talent, He instantly recognised himself.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes. im going to put it on the wall near my desk"

"With everybody else's?"

"Yes, but in a special place"

"Near 471's picture?"

"Yes"

"when will he come back?"

That question hit Dr. Gu hard. 471 was dead. His heart was removed and his internal organs were put in cryogenic storage. Somewhere, somebody was living longer with 471's heart beating in his chest.

"I. I don't know"

He didn't want to hurt 822. She was just a little girl. She wouldnt be able to comprehend why anyone would pull out 471's parts and use them. She wouldn't understand that people don't come back. None do. Not 471 or 344 or 219 or any of the clones at any hospital who are grown for spare parts. 822 hugged him around his knees.

"be happy, Dr. Gu"

"i'll be OK"

822 let go and went to play with the older children. Dr. Gu turned and made his way from the holding facility to his office. It was a clean, orderly, sterile office with nondescript furniture and a computer. The only decoration was a motivational poster with "belive in yourself" below it. Dr. Gu continued to his back room. It was meant to be a supply closet. The door was the same color as the wall, and was beside his office printer. He stepped in and turned on the light. This was where he got all his work done in the earlier days of his project, before he started questioning his profession. Now it was a shrine of sorts to all the children. drawings were taped to the cement block walls, covering a little over half of the available wall. he walked a few paces in and looked for a suitable place to hang 822's drawing.

A knock at the door startled Dr. Gu. He put the drawing on his small desk, exited his closet, and closed the door. The knock sounded again. He opened the door and let in Dr. Andrews. She was a thin woman, with bony fingers, terse speech, and a condecening attitude toward her subordinates. Dr. Gu took his seat at his desk and Dr. Andrews took a seat across from him.

"What is it? I'm busy" said Dr. Gu

"doctor, I think that 720 has grown large enough to harvest." said Dr. Andrews. Dr. Gu detected just a hint of sadism in her voice.

"We will need to wait a little longer to ensure that his organs have developed enough to support his originator's body"

"Smaller clones have been harvested successfully"

"And unsuccessfully. Since 720's originator's condition is stable, there is no need to rush things"

"But we could do it"

"we can do lots of things, but we only choose to do them in emergency situations"

Dr. Andrews was trying to suppress disappointment. Dr. Gu began shuffling through his desk drawers, hoping that she would get the hint and leave. She did, closing the door behind her.

"What have i gotten myself into?"

The question was directed at the back side of his small wooden name block. It didn't answer.

Dr. Gu returned to his supply closet. 822's drawing of him with his clipboard had fluttered to the floor. he looked down at it. There he was. smiling benevolently with his clipboard. If only 822 knew how many death sentences he had written on that clipboard. Dr. Gu looked around at the other drawings on the walls. houses. cars. soldiers. firemen. fishing. groups of smiling stick figures. trees. rocket ships. This was a gallery of dreams that would never be realized. Instead, they would be taken apart to save the lives of generation Y-ers with no dreams at all.

And it was all because of that doctor on the floor.

...

"Cowboy, I presume"

Startled, Cowboy faced the voice. A nondescript sedan had pulled alongside the curb. The driver was also nondescript, with plain sunglasses.

"Are you Cowboy?"

"He is"

It was a second man in the back.

"Get in"

The rear passenger door opened. Cowboy glanced toward the checkpoint ahead. He doubted he could get any help from the guards.

"If we were G men, we would stop you at the checkpoint."

"How do i know that?"

"Here"

The driver held out a small object. Cowboy took it. It was a large coin. Cowboy recognised the design, a dagger above a dune. His old unit's patch. It was full color, the kind used as a reward. Cowboy turned it over. "SPC. Farsight. 500CK" was engraved on a small rectangle. He looked at the nondescript man, searching his face for any clue that it may be Farsight.

"He sent us. Get in."

Cowboy got into the car. They turned down a side street, away from the checkpoint.

...

Day 1592

Vitals: good

orgone: good

C. systems: good

Progress: installed portable LS unit.


"So this is it?"

"No, but the others are all similar. I expect that..."

"Compile them in order and get an idea of how far along he got."

"Here."

A third man in a suit aproached the DHS field controllers and held a folder.

"Name is Leery. He used to be with DARPA."

The senior field controller took the folder.

"Scary looking bastard. should be easy to find"

The picture was of Dr. Leery from the shoulders up. the picture had been cropped from a larger one. He opened the folder to see the full picture of Dr. Leery smiling eerily with a small metal contraption.

"what is he, some kind of robot maker?"

"Look closer. half that thing is a rat"

"Here comes trouble"

Mr. White aproached them, flanked by gray suited men. His crisp white suit contrasted with the charred remains of the house and laboratory. His gold pyramid badge glittered in the sun.

"We'll handle things from here gentlemen"

The DHS controllers knew there would be no arguing with him. as a secret investigator, he had ultimate jurisdiction over the crime scene and everyone involved.

"May i have that folder?"

He was just asking in order to be polite. When the field controller gave him the folder, he didn't look at it, but gave it to a gray suited man to his left. He probably already knew the contents.

"gentlemen, this crime scene is of special interest to the NAU department of secret counterterrorism operations. I will take all evidence you have gathered thus far"




MEMORANDUM FOR: Mr. Brown
FROM: Mr. White
SUBJECT: Op. Leer

1. The DHS raid of the residence of Dr. Thomas Leery did not result in the capture of either Dr. Leery or former Maj. Laoghaire UiNiell.

2. We are certain that UiNiell is alive based on partial documents obtained from the residence in the form of a badly burned notebook and images of POI scans on ND cards.

3. I have made use of our facilities in Richmond to process the data more completely. My colleague, Mr. Gray is currently visiting the DARPA archives to aquire information on Leery's research there.

Mr. White
Director, Illuminati Internal Security

...

"I don't know why anyone would adopt a little shit like you"

Larry had been sent to help Evan with his belongings, but when Evan showed him the cardboard box with his few clothes in it, Larry just stuffed it into the nearest trash can. He almost expected it. Larry had been the handyman at the orphanage since before Evan was dropped there, and never wasted an opportunity to be cruel to anyone.

"You don't say much, do you?"

Evan didn't reply. Larry was just setting up for a cruel joke or attempting to justify violence, not that he needed to.

"ANSWER ME!"

Larry swung at Evan, but hit a wall. bones cracked

"YOU LITTLE FUCK!"

Evan ran the rest of the way to the office where his new family was waiting. A lot of kids were happy on the day they left. Evan was not. Ever since he had met his parent, his maternal grandmother, he disliked her. She ignored him at their meetings, instead spending the entire interview bargaining for a bigger stipend from the government. He occasionally heard himself referred to as "the kid", but it was only to emphasize what a burden he would be, or the enormous amounts of food he would consume, or the space he would take up.

What a bitch.

...

From the CLFS archives:

Item no: 15883

Description: MP8 covert recording device

Catalog: 266-7, articles concerning the Illuminati operation "bankrupt"; 14-3 articles concerning Silverhand's early NAU military career.

Contents: audio file of a meeting between two individuals.

Transcript:

Agent gray: Sir, Agent Gray reporting

rough voice: You were to remain with his unit

Agent Gray: I, I know, but they jammed me.

rough voice: jammed?

Agent gray: their comm officer knows something is up. he detected my frequency and jammed it. And I overheard UiNiell giving the comm element orders to track down the source and "take care of it"

rough voice: so you abandoned your post.

Agent gray: NO!

Rough voice: Your only job was to provide us with intel on what he was saying and what he was preparing to do, and you failed in it. You know what happens to failures.

Agent gray: He's headed north to strike the main force while it's still bottled up in the canyon. He's defying orders to stay put.

Rough voice: We know that. The satelites can show us his position and heading. You were supposed to relay his next move.

Agent gray: You can't just, It was expensive to train me! I'm worth a lot of money!

Rough voice: But you have been a bad investment.

(Gunshot)

...

The security guard slumped in his chair, motionless. On several of the security screens in front of him, gray figures crept through the hallways of the hospital. He did not respond. One gray figure reached over his shoulder and turned the screens to their minimum brightness level. Then it removed a knife from the base of the guard's skull and put it away.

A thin figure lead several of the gray ones through the halls of the hospital to the target area. He was shorter than the rest, but his build gave him the illusion of being taller.

"This is it"

"ready?" a gray man crept forward with a laptop computer.

"standard lock, less than a minute"

"gas ready"

over a radio, somebody said "doors ready"

another transmission crackled on "van ready"

a gray man with a gruff voice said "Go"

The one with the laptop came forward and put a keycard into the card reader. It attached to the laptop with a thin cable. After a few seconds, the door opened. the thin one ran inside, muttering "822, 822, 822"

...

The alarm woke Captain Avis. he had fallen asleep in his chair. It had been that kind of afternoon. Hot, Humid, nothing to do but wait for something to happen, and this was it. he splashed water on his face from his canteen and got up. Most of the dust had found a place to settle after the morning wind subsided. Avis' face was as good a place as any. The ground crew already had his A-10 ready for him when he jogged onto the concrete slab that was both taxiway and maintenance area. No funds for a tarmac, or even a true flightline. It was all packed sand with a little lime and a little water to make it stick together and dry hard in the sun. The radio squawked to life

"mother eagle, this is egg15 requesting..."

But it was interrrupted by

"thumper 1 and 2, this is mother eagle, charlie at gash1. stop charlie advance. sat lock on target."

"Hey hugh, get your shit together"

Captain Ward was ready in thumper 1.

"See you up there"

They flew toward the gash. it was a broad canyon that used to be a river. Perfect for moving a military force below the view of surface radar, and only visible to satelite from directly overhead. far below, a small group of vehicles and men were outside the mouth of the canyon, and the HUD indicated that their location is the target.

"Target sighted."

"looks like engine trouble. check smoke"

Some of the vehicles still in the canyon were smoking or on fire. Avis nosed down and took aim with the nose cannon while arming the satelite guided bombs. behind him, Ward did the same. He released the bombs. Only then did Avis notice that the target wasn't an advance of Iranian forces, but had been fighting them. Avis pulled out of the dive, feeling sick.

"thumper 2, who the hell was that?" Ward sounded unsure.

"I don't know"

They flew back to base in silence. In shame. The last radio exchange was a farce. Both knew that they had killed the good guys, whoever they were. The blood was on their hands. and it really was. Avis felt it warm under his glove. he took it off, and his hand was red with it. Though there was no cut, the blood kept forming on his hand.

The phone woke Avis. he had fallen asleep in his chair. It had been that kind of afternoon. Hot, Humid, nothing to do but wait for something to happen, and this was it. he pushed the dog away, wiped the drool from his hand, and went to the phone. He was hesitant to pick up. The voice on the other end would get him killed some day.

"Mr. Smith, I'm sorry to bother you, But if I could have just a few minutes of your time, I'd like to offer you limited time savings on replacement windows"

"How could these be an improvement on the windows I have now?

"These windows use a patented screen to protect your privacy."

"Interesting. Is there a sample I could look at?

"Certainly. if you could drop by our shop on Vance St. or our alternate location on Rogers St. you can see first hand the benefits of Priva-gard windows"

Avis ended the call and hung up. It was a surveillance mission, with further details in a shop at the corner of Vance and Rogers.

...

...

"Hey you! 946!"

Evan looked toward the voice. hospital orderlies were bearing down on him. He considered running, but that would only cause more trouble. instead he stood his ground, both submitting and defying authority. His grandmother probably reported him missing, but 946? What is a 946?

The orderlies were surprisingly gentle. Instead of tackling him or yelling, one took his hand and lead him along the corridoors.

"we wouldnt want to lose you 946. You are important to us."

Evan was confused. These nice, but firm women were definitely not sent by his grandmother. She would have told security to chain him up and drag him back as a "criminal delinquent". After a few twists and turns down narrow hallways they came to a children's play area. Children of varrying ages were playing on the floor or seated at child sized tables reading and coloring. Evan sat down at a table. A little girl no much older than Evan said:

"Hi, Im 822, whats your name?"

"Evan"

"Thats a funny name."

"So is yours"

She laughed and went back to coloring. Evan looked at her. He was sure he saw her face before. He was about to ask when the real 946 was brought in.

946 was quite a bit smaller than Evan, and paler, but the face was almost identical. The orderlies looked at 946, then back to Evan, and back again.

"What is your name?" one of them asked

"Evan"

Evan was rushed from the room.


Later, at home, he was walking through the living room and saw 822 again in a photograph. That was why she looked so familiar. She was there smiling between two adults. They were her grandmother's parents. Then he saw her again, this time in a picture of his grandmother and grandfather holding a little girl. But these pictures were old, way older than the little girl he met in the hospital. 822 must be a clone. And 946? was he a clone too? And who would want to clone Evan?

...

MEMORANDUM FOR: Mr. Sanders
FROM: Mr. Taylor
SUBJECT: Organized Noncompliance

1. Despite the restrictions imposed by Doc. 12453(Patriot Act 5), and the stringent enforcement of the policies contained therein, there is noncompliance by an unknown number of persons, the professionalism of which can only be attributed to an organizatinal structure.

2. These individuals do not appear to be violent in nature, however, their non compliance may be contagious to the rest of the population. I request guidance on how to deal with this problem, in order to keep my response in concert with our inner circle's larger plan.

Mr. Taylor
Director, Covert Enforcement. Population control div.

...

MEMORANDUM FOR: Mr. Taylor
FROM: Mr. Sanders
SUBJECT: RE: Organized Noncompliance

1. The organization which you have hypothesized to exist must be investigated fully to determine the existence of an organizational structure, and if such a structure exists, determine its level of sophistication and its size.

2. If such a structure does not exist, you must determine how unorganized individuals can go about unsurveiled, it may be as simple as a flaw in the security and surveilance network which individuals have unknowingly exploited. You must not take action against suspected "noncompliant individuals" if this is the case, but correct the surveilance network.

3. If an organizational structure exists, you must investigate and report findings on a regular basis. These reports must be made available to our propaganda division. A propaganda campagn and the appropriate props may be required in order to label the hypothesized organization a terrorist threat and deal with it appropriately. Public opinion must be properly shaped, and we must be careful to play along with the theatrics which we perpetuate.

4. Utmost discretion is advised. Heavy handedness in this matter may expose the nature and scope of our system to the general public, and also to any criminal organizations.

Mr. Sanders

...

MEMORANDUM FOR: Mr. Wall
FROM: Mr. White
SUBJECT: Your Cooperation requested

1. The fugitive Maj. UiNiell has expertly evaded our capture, aided by one Dr. Leery. It is suspected that UiNiell survives on a sort of life support device and is transported by Leery. The nature of their evasion, or our lack of observing their evasion, suggests that UiNiell is the mastermind of the duo, while Leery plays a support role.

2. We do not know what UiNiell's strategy is, But it has come to my attention that a certain Leutenant in your custody may have a better idea of how to locate UiNiell. While the leutenant may not be willing to cooperate with interrogation, he is still useful.

3. I suggest releasing the leutenant from his custody and surveiling him. If he can find UiNiell, and we can observe him, then we find UiNiell.

Mr. White
Director, Illuminati Internal Security

...

"He just dropped off the face of the earth"

"Bullshit, Avis. Nobody just dissappears like that"

"This guy did. He just got into a car and vanished"

Mr....Somebody...looked annoyed, like a fat toad with a fly on its head.

"Damn it, you have access to all the databases, all the video feeds, all the subjects records. He can't buy anything, go anywhere, or even wipe his ass without us knowing, and you manage to lose him!"

Avis laid a card on the table. Cowboy's picture scowled up at the ceiling.

"His cash card. Some kid was trying to buy a game disk with it. The police report said the kid found it on the ground near checkpoint D".

"Then you'll have to work a little bit harder to trail him. Get out of my face!"

Avis left the small shop and walked down the street. He looked at the ground as he walked. Ever since being granted access to the surveillance net, he was self concious in public. He didn't like his facial expression recorded and read by the computer. He didn't like being followed from screen to screen back in the control center. It was only supposed to watch OTHER people. The people on the street that Avis didn't trust and secretly thought were terrorists were the ones that needed to be watched. Anyone could be a terrorist or a deviant. Even once trusted special operators like UiNiell and his unit could betray the state for any reason.

He reviewed the video again. The subject got into a car, which drove off the screen, but didn't drive onto the next one. He went to the main screen room and watched the two screens live. A car drove by the place where the subject had been picked up, and drove off screen. on the next screen an old man shuffled down the sidewalk, but the car didn't appear. After a few seconds, it appeared again on the next screen. He kept watching the old man shuffle down the street. The scene started to look familiar. The man stopped and leaned against a lamp post. Just like he did on the day the subject disappeared. He continued on. Avis went and got the laptop that held the video recording of the subject's vanishing act...

...

I pledge allegiance to the flag
Of the North American Union
And to the global community
of which i am part
one world. one government
with safety and security for all

"The global Citizen" page 24. Hoofton Miller publishing.

CLFS archives, History of the North American Union.

...

Nuada was dragged out of his cell by his arms. Both his legs had been broken. He couldn't see. His eyes were swollen shut and bleeding. The guards dragged him up a flight of stairs out of the damp air of his basement prison. A powerful voice was speaking in short clips, answered by the roar of thousands of people. It was muffled by the walls, making it unintelligible. He tried to hold his head up, but was too weak to keep the back of his skull from bouncing off the tiled floor with every step the guard took. it reminded him of something he heard a long time ago. Hs mind groggy, he remembed "imagine a boot stomping a human face forever. that is the future". Maybe thats how it went. A door opened and Nuda's vision filled with red through his swollen eyelids. The speaker was louder, but no more understandable as his speech became a rant, and the rant became a howl of rage, answered by the crowd. He was thrown, and caught by many hands. some dragged, some lifted, some struck with fists. people struggled to get near enough to stomp his broken legs. He barely felt it through the pain he had already endured, and was too weak to scream. Then Nuada was thrown again. he landed face down on a pile of wood, no, books! the hard covers were green. My book! Then the smell of smoke came, and heat...

...

"Avis, Avis, Avis." Mr. ...Somebody sounded disappointed. "We managed to find Major UiNiell, even with your failure to track his leutenant." Avis looked at the desk between them. Failure. Failure is not allowed. "You know what happens when an employee fails in his job, correct?"

"Yes". Avis' voice betrayed defeat.

"However, you have not outlived your usefulness yet. Im going to re-assign you to something a bit more in line with your abilities. You will be a security monitor. Your main job duties will be to find and repair flaws in the security network, just as you repaired the one associated with the leutenant's disappearance. Understood?"

"Yes". Avis was relived.

"Would you like to see a small peice of the big picture?"

"Did you capture them?"

"In a way. We have chosen not to show our hand until the time is right. When we move to capture UiNiell, It must be perfect." Mr. Somebody turned a laptop to face Avis. A short video of a man limping out the door of a building repeated over and over on the screen.

"That doesnt look anything like Leery" said Avis.

"Correct, but it is. Note the limp, and the way his eyes dart around. Also, there is evidence I am not going to show you here, now go away and get to work."

...

Mr. Sanders didnt bother looking up from his computer screen. It cast a faint blue glow from beneath the glass panel on his desktop. He was not surprised by the sudden arrival at all, the person who just seemed to materialize out of thin air. He expected it, and was ready.

"Youre not invisible" said Mr. Sanders. "Ive noticed you appearing from time to time. Ive seen you looking over people's shoulders while theyre otherwise preoccupied. No, dont try to leave now that youve been caught. Youre bound to stay a little while, i know it. You arent here of your own free will. That other guy put you here, and he will make you stay until you see what he wants you to. You're probably here to watch me write this memo, get a brief glimpse at what kind of man I am, then read it."

Mr. Sanders turned off the monitor.

"There, now youll have to wait until I turn the screen back on, but I havent made that decision yet, so no fast forwarding to when I turn the screen on. Yes, we know about that. We know that your superior just picks you up and sticks you anywhere in time and space that he pleases. But youre caught. If you get up and go, then I won't turn on the monitor and youll never see what he wants. If you stay, I might let you read some."

Mr. Sanders pushed his chair back and leaned back, self satisfied.

"I have a feeling you already know whats going to happen to me, this, everything. The one who put you here already knows everything, and I have a feeling he is trying to prove a point to you."

He leaned forward, interested.

"What is the lesson? Why are you here? Tell me!"


"Yes, I'm sure there is a lesson. I'm sure you already know whats going on."

"Mr. Sanders"

"Who's there?" said Mr. Sanders

"Never you mind who I am. Thank you for being so hospitable to my "reader" and telling us all we came here for."

"What? youre that guy!"

"So I am, good bye for now, Mr. Sanders"

"Wait!" Why are you sending this person to spy on us? Whats the point?"

"You are"

"Don't go yet! Stay! I can still change my mind and let you see the memo!"

"There isnt one. you were pretending"


(you should have learned that there is a moral to the story)

...

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