Part One
A tragic situation exists precisely when virtue does not triumph but when it is still felt that man is nobler than the forces which destroy him. – George Orwell
“Citizen Director, come have a look at this.” Technical Specialist Mark removed his glasses and cleaned them with his necktie. It had been a long day and his eyes were feeling the strain of staring at a computer screen for 8 hours.
“What is it, Citizen? Another idiot searching porn?”
“No, Sir. At first I thought it was some nostalgia freak researching Old American History. But, I’ve been watching her activity for about 4 hours. It looks like she’s sending some kind of messages that I haven’t quite been able to decipher. Thought it might help to have a fresh set of eyes check this out. I don’t know…maybe I’m reading more into it than is really there.”
Gary Bryant had been named Citizen Director of the National Technical Assistance Center (“NTAC”) three months ago. NTAC had been created in 2012 by The Founder to track opposition activity during the election. Since the time of the “final election” NTAC’s original function was no longer necessary. However, the New American Government felt the agency should be re-purposed. Vid-Ed, tracking of Citizen Health, the Fairness Commission and Border Security now fell under their control.
“Give me a print-out of her transmissions and shut her down. If any questions arise over this, I can back-date a directive limiting recreational internet access to three hours a day.”
“Yes, Citizen Director. I’m sending the info to your printer right now. Funny thing, though. I can’t seem to get a lock on her cell phone. I’ve been trying to pin her down for two hours and the signal keeps bouncing around like a freakin’ ping pong ball.” Mark reached into his desk and opened a bottle of Ibuprofen. He dumped three pills into the palm of his hand.
“Give me some of those, will ya?” said the Director. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
Gary went to his office and retrieved a stack of papers from his printer tray. He sat down on a long couch, leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. “Anita, contact my wife and tell her I will be staying here tonight”, he said into the mouthpiece that rested against his left cheek. “Yes, Sir. Do I need to send flowers this time?” replied a voice in his ear. “No. She’s used to this now. I’ll bring her something when I go home. Thanks, Anita.”
He stood up and looked out of the huge pane of one-way glass that gave him a bird’s eye view of his department. Dozens of Techies were gazing intently into computer screens, their faces bathed in the blue glow given off by the monitors. Each Techie was given the best possible environment within their cubicles to reduce fatigue. Ergonomic seating, soy energy bars and drinks, soothing nature sounds to relax the mind. Family photos were not permitted as they had been determined to cause stress and feelings of guilt. Hidden cameras gave the Director real-time video of the activity in each cubicle. Fifty flat screens adorned the walls of his office. In the lower right-hand corner of each screen was a health monitor which showed the current blood pressure, heart rate and stress levels of every Techie under his supervision. The Founder was a firm believer in detecting deception through biorhythms and this method was used in every Government agency in New America.
Gary moved to his desk and began to sort through the communications T.S. Mark had sent to him. On their face, the documents seemed harmless. The woman appeared to be in her mid-40s, which would put her in the category of those who required advanced indoctrination when New America was established. For the most part, Citizens acclimated themselves to The Founder’s visions with little or no resistance. However, some needed more intensive re-education. A few never quite accepted the New Constitution and were relocated to isolated areas of the country where they could not instigate unrest among the general public.
The Founder was a compassionate man and understood that there would be resistance to new ideas. He relied heavily upon the children of those resisters to help their parents’ transition into a new, worry-free life. In extreme cases, the children were eventually adopted out to compliant families and their parents were relocated. As far as the children knew, their parents were deceased. The Founder felt that it was unnecessary for those children to live with the stigma of having a parent in a re-education community.
T.S. Mark’s hands hadn’t typed this fast in months. Every time he felt he had a lock on the location of his subject’s cell phone, it would shift to yet another unknown IP. He had orders to shut her down, but it was becoming an impossible task. Mark pressed the “call” button on his earpiece.
“Yes, Citizen” the Director responded. “Are you making headway on that transmission?”
“No, Sir” Mark replied. “I wonder if I should hand this over to the Border Security Techies. Their tracking software is much more advanced than ours.”
“Okay. Initiate the transfer. Make sure you include all IPs in your report. After you’re done, why don’t you head on home. No sense both of us spending the night.”
*****************************************************
“Jeff, I don’t know how long I can keep this up. I think they just handed me over to Border Security” said Beth. “Why don’t you work on this for a while and I’ll finish the dishes.”
Jeff set the dinner plate he had been washing into the drain board and joined his wife on the couch. “You’re a lot faster than I am, Beth. Besides, if we don’t get this information to the others they won’t know when to cross.”
“How many are going this time?” he asked.
“Oh, big group. Thirty or so. Crap!” Beth grew quiet. Her thumbs flew over the tiny keys on her phone. She brought the device closer to her face. “Border Security just brought out the big guns. They must be desperate.”
“I don’t like this, Beth. I think we pushed the wrong buttons this time. Maybe we should meet the group and cross with them.” He rose from the couch and walked over to the large picture window. A strong sense of urgency rested in the pit of his stomach. “Honey, I’m serious. I think we need to leave…now!”
Beth stopped what she was doing and glanced over at her husband. Jeff was not the sort to panic. The look on his face was enough to convince her that he was right. “Okay, we’ll go. I just have to send the final coordinates and we are out of here. Why don’t you get our packs out while I finish. Two minutes…I promise.” She managed a half-smile and turned her attention back to the phone in her hands.
Jeff felt better knowing they were leaving the re-education community. It was not going to be easy and he hoped all of the pre-planning they had done would pay off.
“Okay, done!” Beth turned off the phone. She removed the battery and ID card, then walked to the kitchen sink. As the water flowed into the garbage disposal, she tossed the items in and turned it on. A horrible crunching noise filled the house as the battery and card were hacked to pieces by stainless steel blades. Jeff handed her a parka and large backpack.
Neither of them bothered to look back. The house they were given by the Government had never been home to them. Their true home had been a log constructed cabin in the Foothills of the Rocky Mountains surrounded by 40 acres of ranch land. Jeff and Beth had raised Black Angus for 20 years and had a comfortable life. That is, until Two Thousand Fifteen. Their cattle were shipped to Mexico by the Government. Jeff protested the takeover and they were labeled “resisters”. In Two Thousand Sixteen they were removed from their ranch and sent to a re-education commune.
Beth refused to cooperate with the Government’s efforts to turn them into “compliant mush”. She and Jeff happened upon some like-minded people and their journey into the world of underground railroads and coded communications began.
Over the years they had been instrumental in helping more than 1,000 fellow resisters cross the border into Mexico. Until today, they had flown under the radar. Beth was not sure how she had been discovered. She would have plenty of time to figure it out once they reached the Constitutional Colony in South America.
Part Two
If you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face – forever.- George Orwell
Director Bryant slammed his desk with his fist. It was obvious to anyone observing him that he had received bad news. TS Mark stood outside the Director’s office with a stack of papers in his hand. When the opportunity arose, he cleared his throat in order to make his presence known.
“What, Mark” said the Director in an exasperated tone of voice. “More bad news?”
“N-no, Sir…well, maybe…Sir…” said TS Mark, looking down at his feet.
“NO, YES, MAYBE?? Jeez, Mark, I thought I could at least rely on you not to jerk me around.” The Director fell into his chair, placed his elbows on the desk and rested his head in his hands.
“Well, Sir, I was about to leave but I wanted to do one final scan of the IP addresses on my list…”
“AND? C’mon, get to the point!”
“Uhm, I think I got a lock on the house where the calls originated. It is in a re-education commune in southern Colorado. The citizens currently occupying that home are Jeffrey and Elizabeth Stanhope.”
“Well? Did you notify security at the re-ed comm to go take them in?” asked the Director in a tone of voice usually reserved for an uncooperative child.
“Y-yes, Sir. B-but they were gone…Sir. Security is searching the commune for them as we speak. I notified Border Security Technical Agent Ed Johnson of my findings and they are in communication with re-ed comm security. And, Sir?”
“Mark?”
“I had a lock on their Personal Data Monitors. That is until 15 minutes ago.” At this point Mark wished he had left the matter alone and went home when the Director told him to.
“How the hell could we lose their PDM’s? They’re surgically implanted! Did you double check the satellite function?”
“Yes, Sir. And I even had two other Technical Specialists run the ID numbers through their systems, but they just vanished into thin air! Border Security tested the satellite function from their end and, well, they were able to get a faint signal…”
“Well, follow it DAMNIT! Get the people on the ground on it STAT!”
TS Mark looked at his feet again, sweat beads forming on his brow. He knew that the information he was about to relay to the Director was going to result in another tirade. He could feel the Director’s eyes upon him, almost drilling into his brain. Mark took a deep breath and faced the inevitable. “Sir, we did follow it. The signal was originating from the body of one of the guard dogs within the re-ed comm.”
“A dead dog? How the HELL…oh, never mind. I don’t think I want to know. Did you turn control of the case over to Border Security?”
“Yes, Sir. I officially transferred responsibility to them 5 minutes ago. We are to be kept abreast of any new developments as they arise; however, the ball is in their court now.”
“Mark, go home”, said the Director. “You’ve done a great job today. Get some rest. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you. If anything comes up overnight and you require my assistance, you know how to get a hold of me. Good night, Sir.”
Once Mark had left his office, the Director sat down and began to review the stack of papers the Technical Specialist had given to him. Shaking his head, he mumbled, “A damned dead dog…who the hell are these people?”
*********************************************
Beth and Jeff had stopped among a grove of Cottonwoods and grape vines to bandage the wounds they had inflicted upon themselves when they cut the PDMs from their bodies. Jeff had made many trips into the dense woods bordering the re-ed comm over the past few months burying a first aid kit, knives, night-vision goggles and other items they would need on their journey to freedom. Most of these supplies were obtained through black market connections. Beth had been employed at the re-ed comm food depot. Contraband was frequently smuggled within the boxes of supplies. Since the use of cash had been outlawed in New America, payment was made to the smugglers through the Constitutional Colony in South America.
The Border Guards surrounding their community were predominantly Chinese Nationals. In Twenty Twenty, China called in their loans to the United States. The Founder, anxious to strengthen his position within the Global Community, gave the Chinese control over 50 percent of the Border Security forces. China forgave most of the debt and now maintained a seat within the New American Congress.
“We have 2 more miles of woods until we reach our contact, Beth. How are you doing?” Jeff asked.
“I’m fine. Bleeding’s pretty much stopped. We’ll have some hellacious scars once we heal, but I’m sure we won’t be the only ones.” She smiled at her husband as he helped her to her feet. “Jeff, we are going to make it. I don’t have a doubt in my mind.”
“If the Chinese guards are as gullible as their dogs, it should be smooth sailing from here to the truck.” Jeff wasn’t completely convinced the rest of their journey would continue without incident, but he kept his doubts to himself. Beth seemed positive they would succeed and he wasn’t about to say or do anything to dampen her spirits.
They only had two or three hours of night left. Using a compass Jeff had placed in his backpack, they navigated their way through the woods, stopping every now and then to listen for signs of approaching guards. Beth used the night vision goggles to check for booby traps and alarm sensors.
With less than an hour to go before sunrise, they reached the edge of the re-ed comm security zone. At this point they emptied the large backpacks they had been carrying, and began to don the clothing that would aid them in passing through the checkpoints throughout the city. Beth’s new identity was that of a nurse in the Citizen Evaluation Sector of Reid Memorial Hospital. Jeff became a H.I.T. (Health Information Technology) Specialist employed at the same facility. They had obtained the proper citizen identification through the network, as well as ID badges from Reid Memorial. If asked, they were simply on their way to work. Their old identification papers were placed in a pile and doused with muriatic acid which Jeff had stolen from the chemical closet at the community pool. After a few moments, the papers were reduced to pulp and covered with stones.
The truck was a typical pickup with an extended cab. The keys had been left in the ignition and all of the necessary paperwork had been placed in the glove box. Jeff felt the hood, the motor was still warm. That was a good sign. It meant the vehicle had not been sitting long enough to cause suspicion. New cell phones were packed in a box and placed on the back seat. Beth retrieved the phones, but did not activate them. The couple would wait until they were several miles from the re-ed comm before turning them on.
The most dangerous part of their journey was about to begin. Jeff looked over at Beth and said, “Remember that I love you, Ellen”. Beth smiled and said, “I love you, too, Bill.” They laughed and took off toward the city.
To be continued…
http://chenzhen.wordpress.com/2007/05/25/wordpress-political-blogger-alliance
Much of it was almost funny. Almost. Especially when Obama berated John McCain for “campaigning”. Seriously? This from the perpetual campaigner himself? He’s a funny, funny man our President is…
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