Timong Lightbringer: To the People of Now [prose]

Still hoping to compensate natural losses, aye? Two percent of “dreamcatchers”, one percent of the military men, one percent of the "accidents", half percent of murders, the one third of percent of "unidentified deaths”, the one sixth of percent of those, who nevertheless has not managed to emigrate away from here … and this is not the full list by any means.

You will not recover that way – your disease has gone too far. You are too sick to become healthy once again. And those who understand cannot tell it anymore – for the global Mass Media Interactive Network is not for them anymore … never was for them. Only for the government, only for multinational corporations under their “giving hand”. And you could even participate in all this – take, for instance, that interactive sex-orgies that will be broadcasted on all channels “with a purpose of familiarizing of the population with sexual culture and stimulation of natural needs of men and women”.

What idiot has issued this resolution ?! … even its name is idiotic. Bless you, it surely must have been a big person – too big to “stimulate his natural needs” together with mad people crowds in the upcoming day …

Never forget a hand that feeds you … providers of Mass Media content did not forget.

A chip on the right hand has emitted a high-frequency sound impulse and has confirmed it with predefined sequence of IR-signals.

Damn ! This was dangerous ! This means that he has left the edge of his quadrant in today’s night patrol. This means that after ten minutes this very chip, built into his left hand, - and now also serving as universal biopassport, such a “smart-human-card” in a minitiature, - will send a series of radio signals in Liberty Security State Police Headquarters - his "native home" of sorts - only a series of radio signals which will be retranslated through the governmental stations. Informational stream, ciphered by the newest cryptographic invention SSC-51200, in which numerical postfix also designated length of a key...

Only a series of radio signals … and he will be up to the neck in problems. The internal security service disliked it very much, when its employees did not execute orders.

It was necessary to come back. He was not in time.

This means, that once again he has to writhe from pain, resisting his body’s desires, when video streaming will begin. This means, that once again he has to try to close his eyes – only to receive painful discharges from this damn multifunctional Security State Police Department VMSS helmet – having no possibility to remove it – because as soon as a signal with the information on the scanned retina of his eye will not be transmitted – he’s a criminal. This means that he should die once again.

Almost like those dreamcatchers – almost with a blissful smile on his lips … almost happy.

“You’ve chosen the way. ,-

And you’ve become prey.

Forgotten you have paradise,

And thus received thy hellish prize.

Yes, it was you who’ve rolled the dice…”

it seems, that such stanza of some newly born poet he has recently seen in still free part of the Net. It seems, the author called it “Appeal to the human”. And he is so damn right in something …

To look for him, maybe … a brother in arms by misfortune … the derelict of this world… Heck, to find … this one must have already joined the Underground Resistance Force – and thus became impossible to be found. For ten years his department was engaged in searches of these insurgents and fighters for “spiritual freedom” – and only their smallest and insignificant agents have been caught, and only one headquarter destroyed.

I am keeping fighting with my brothers, keeping struggling against them … and have no the slightest idea of how to stop it all … cannot stop it … not anymore.

Sometimes they made it. Sometimes they broke – miraculously - through all information covering – and broadcasted on the broadest possible range of frequencies – mainly speech and sometimes even video … for ten minutes only. Then they were blocked once again … however no one has ever found the true source of signals – not in his life.

Sometimes it was invocatory speech to see that already deformed nature of the majority of people, sometimes it was the statistics of human deaths during previous years – numbers and lines of texts, unfamiliar for those profane. Sometimes it was video records from places of military operations and speeches of how people have been drugged into this war by their government – for the sake of interests of the government itself and that cursed “hierarchical minority”. Sometimes it were such verses which he has found yesterday – by the divine will alone still being kept in the Net.

Sometimes … three-four times a year – no more and no less. And for all the rest time there were those Mass Media Interactive corporations.

There will be a holiday of sexual minorities tomorrow … in ten days after it – a holiday of military … there we will once again see heart-touching frames of how our brave soldiers defeat treacherous enemy and how he, this enemy, continue to retreat under their unstoppable pressure – has been retreating for five years already …

Then there will be a holiday of the man, and a holiday of the woman … the new woman and the new man. Then the day of overall scorn to those in the Underground – sort of official “phew” of the powerless government to the members of Underground Resistance Force. Then there will be a day of prostitutes – not that much different in its nature from the day of the woman … there will be so much.

So many holidays … so little joy. So much pleasure.

And once again all in a circle the next year.

But for now this was completely unimportant.

It was time to go back, he had at most about five minutes before the entry into a zone of the patrolled quadrant. The patrol has been completed … his home awaits.

He has turned his flycar, turned on autopilot mode. Now it will travel to LSSP base by itself, automatically regulating its height and evading counter streams of similar happy owners of this transport, and will land on one of free platforms on the base. Nothing more is required. The technics will do everything for you … almost everything.

Then he will make his report on the performed patrol – everything is normal, no suspicious activities have been revealed, no incidents have occurred. Everyone is happy and content … everything is just fine. A paradise on the earth in the borders of his patrolled quadrant … hellish paradise.

He has leant back on a seat and closed his eyes. He had to rest for a while.

A difficult day awaits him tomorrow.

We are no longer the ones we used to be. Our past burned in the flame of self-rebirth, leaving the place for the Now, which has become a bridge to the Future.

Our path lies in the Eternity, and only we ourselves can pass it.

We all feel the breath of Universe inside us, and our hearts beat in rhytm with Hers.

We are both old and young - for each of us is like innocent child in spirit.

We foresee, not knowing for sure. We rejoice at the beginning of a new deed and feel sadness finishing what has been started. We love to transform believe into the trust. For without trust there can be no love.

We accept this world as we managed to make it. And it will never be in our right to blame someone other for human mistakes.

You may call us as you desire, for your mere words are unable to alter the essence.

No more we have names, yet each of us has kept his essensial "I".

We enter the battle in time and we know not fear.

Curses and blasphemes of the Sleepers are the stones that only strenghten our arms, holding the shield.