IN THE TIMES OF.... THE FIRST PROSE FOR CHAPTER ONE...

IN THE TIME OF

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The first day the camps were filled, we were let out of dorms and found official notices on the kiosks saying that our internet use had been examined, and the trials to determine which camp we would be disseminated to depending upon our views would begin that afternoon. I had spoken to no one since the ISIS threat was declared to have made the cities uninhabitable. I pretended I was mute, giving a hand sign pointing to my ear and mouth and shaking my head no to any questions, then gesturing to my lips and theirs, conveying the universal symbol that I could read lips. My cover had no facebook account, and anonymous, deaf stocker from a 7-11 who had never voted, married... I chose well before I committed myself to his murder.

 

 As I watched the camp begin to break down into pockets of terrified people trying to comfort one another, and others claiming they had nothing to hide, that they had been good republicans/democrats their whole lives, I thought of all the little lies to the IRS they thought they had gotten away with, the affairs and the desparaging remarks toward the government they said in what they thought was the privacy of their own home... inside there was a part of me that recognized another part of me that thought a laugh would be apropriate. Laughter like tears were all in my past, left with the person I had been before the revolt -- the real reason for the camps, though no one there who was talking knew about them.

 

The media had always been on ISIS mode, since the supposed fighting on USA soil was instigated by immigrants and undocumented workers, who had in truth been the first to be murdered by the great machine which was consuming the earth, with parts that did not know their function better than any bolt in any machine. Those who had been conspiracy theorists, or as they called them now, Oppositional Personality Disorderred, per the psychiatric norms that had begun in 2012. I walked past the different groups, listening to how they rationalized this latest affront to humanity into something that made sense in the big lie they had been raised within. To the man, they all seemed to think they would be alright. Again, that part of me that once laughed came to mind. The one group had never used facebook, or any social media, and assumed that facebook was the government's only source of intelligence on their lives. Another group had merely sent jokes to their friends, though admitted commenting on their favorite politicians, and discounting others.

 

  I knew from my work that the politicians were all one unit, called the eagles in the underground, predatory birds, of which there were few left. I was not called in until the third day. They had us in a large dormitory, empty except for long tables with computers set up on one side. We were kept in a fenced in pen until our names were called, then sent to sit opposite what the announcer kept calling our 'Government Host.' I sat down and made my sign that I was deaf. The man sitting across from me looked nervous, depressed. A certain darkness under his eyes spoke to his lack of sleep. I noted a slight trembling in his hands when he reached for a glass of cloudy water by his side. Balding, mid-fifties, hot in his brown suit. The first words he spoke to me made me sit up straight and struggle to keep my face impassive, 'Don't bother, we know you can hear." I did not know if he was bluffing or not, so I tilted my head to one side and looked at him quizzically? "You did right by being afraid to talk to anyone. I have your file here. You do not seem like the type to know enough to take such a tact. I understand, though... you were afraid." He sounds sympathetic, friendly.

 

 I begin to wonder if he was a police officer before... then the memory reminds me the police had rebelled early on, and were said to be in hiding. If he was a police officer, I would never find out... and would never turn him in, regardless, unless my survival depended on the matter. I was intent of surviving. My mission was the only thing to live for in these times, and I had orders not to die... or I would have gone out fighting long before letting them bring me to a camp. I had no desire to see what was to come. No desires at all, really... well, that is not true... I still had a desire for love making, still had a desire to get too snort some blow and drift out into a nod where no nightmares sleeping or waking could touch me, still had a desire to be with family I had lost, my pets... I stopped them from getting my attention though, thankful as always for the years spent meditating, learning to clear my mind of thoughts. There is too much noise in the room for everyone to be monitored, I think... I am never sure. Perhaps they could hear everything now? See everything now? The cities had become like that, long before any of us realized. Even after I had been told I had a hard time believing. Now I was erroring always on the side of caution, and this had kept me alive.

 

 

   Three seats down a man who is being interrogated, in the nicest, most beuracratic -- just getting my license renewed way possible, suddenly kicked his chair back behind him and started screaming that he had just been venting on Facebook, that he did not always feel that way... I took the opportunity to lean in close to my interrogator, whose attention was on the freak out a few chairs away, and throw my voice without moving my lips -- a skill taught to everyone in the underground, I assumed... we were too compartmentalized to know, of course. . . but it had come in handy too many times for me to think otherwise. "I can speak, and I know you used to be a cop. I keep silent for a reason, and I think you want me to continue so, eh?"

 

He is good, keeps his interest seemingly on the man who is now being approached by the black dressed security guards with their ever present stun guns. Throws his voice back at me without moving his lips, something they evidently had learned as well when their purge had come -- as was reported at the time as taking great losses while they valiantly fought the ISIS invaders in the city, who were reported as having grouped with the gangs... "Deaf and dumb." When the commotion was over, I began to realize the risk I had taken and fought to control myself... my fingers wanted to start tapping on my thigh. I could give away nothing. Nothing... I used the word to calm myself, repeating it over and over in my mind, 'Nothing... nothing... nothing.' He might now assign me to a camp to keep me silent. Then I realized he would know if he did this that I would report him, and began to calm, as much as I allowed myself. "Well, just thought I would check, to make sure. You had no involvement on computers. I see that you got your GED. Worked at the same company for almost twenty years, helping with the stocking of shelves at night. I did not know they hired the handicapped. Good thing, that."

 

I made a show of looking at his lips and occasionally making expressions of slight puzzlement then seeming understanding. At this I nodded, 'Yes.' "Says here you are physically healthy, is that still true?" I held my arms up like a muscle man and flexed my bi-ceps, showing I was strong and healthy, I hoped. One truth afloat on the river of lies that flowed from me. "I have a lot of questions, you can just nod yes or no to them, understand?" He emphasized 'Understand.' I nodded, 'Yes.' The questions were telling, and that he allowed me to merely nod yes or no when I heard the others down the line giving lengthy explanations told me he was allowing me thru the process. I wondered how anyone could trust anyone now... and marveled that this stranger and I had agreed to trust one another, even if out of mutual survival. He had no choice, but I could tell as the questions went on that his trust of my ability to keep my emotions in check, to play along to the exact right clues, was causing him to trust me. The police had stopped hiring people with IQ's over 125 years ago. I wondered if lack of intelligence caused this, or if in his former life his trust for his fellow cops, those who stood up to make the thin blue line that protected their quasi-criminal, and not so quasi at times, ways, had caused him to fall into old patterns of behavior. I told myself this was a lesson I had better learn -- NEVER ASSUME THE OLD WAYS WORKED IN THE NEW TIMES. WATCH FOR BECOMING THE PERSON I WAS... who had been too trusting. The questions seemed innocous almost, to the uninitiated: 'what political party did your parents belong to?'; did you have a garden?; when ISIS invasion became apparent, did you stoke pile weapons and foods?; what are your favorite colors?; is there anything you hated about the government, be honest, now, we all hated something?; where are your loved ones now, do you know?; did you keep pets?'

 

   I knew why they were asking some of the questions, like these here, they were finding out basically if they were dealing with a survivalist, or someone with any tendencies there-for, the pet question involved a certain holy man who had arisen during the revolution, who told his followers to get dogs and learn from them... that man was me. This is why I had to survive. My people still existed out there.... not that I considered myself a holy man, but that others did, and that this brought them hope, and a reason to fight, was enough for me to leave such things up to God. I was always suspicious of anyone who considered themselves holy, regardless. How this man would have been rewarded if he identified me -- the might, just might, have even ignored that he had been part of a revolt-faction, though from my experience they took no chances what-so-ever.

 

The interviewers' whom I could hear ending their interrogations around me all said that there was a place for them, and they would be assigned within the week, and there was nothing to worry about, all the bad seeds had already been identified, and ISIS was not operating in the area. I could tell by their lack of inflections at the end, or how hard they faked inflections, that they had this memorized. I expected to hear the same and was surprised when the now visibly calmer man across from me said the same spiel, though he added in the middle, as if stuttering for a moment, Farmer... I did not react and he seemed to grow even calmer. Perhaps he felt that I was a police officer as well... that he had somehow connected with someone and would be able to sleep better that night, saving a fellow blue? I was not sure. I had worked with the Blues as allies, they had even provided me with security for a few years, before the overt war they called a battle with ISIS began. My enemies had soured the relationship with propaganda, their speciality since the days when the FBI used the technique to sow distrust among the Black Panthers in the sixties.

I know everyone goes to Heaven.  God gave me this knowledge to make me the most dangerous creature in all creation.  The humans had figured this out long ago, at least the ones in power.  They had spent a lot of time and money protecting me when they thought I would go along with their fond dreams of fullfilling the prophecy and bringing the Son back to earth.  They did no know I have been here all along, living lives under different guises, guiding the prophecy that would lead to this time, when I would save the world, or destroy  the planet.  There is no in between.  All God has shown me so far is the destruction.

Another day, laying in my  apartment, the bugs on, knowing by then that they were all watching, believers in the New Christ, haters of me....  for the things my followers had done, under the guise of commands from me... that never were.  I was trying then to be kind, to give them something that would bring hope back into the world...  make up for things there was simply no making up for.  I let my mind wander, seeing souls around the planet... always they were golden and white sparks...  facebless and far away from me.   This afternoon behind my closed eyes a woman approached, a spirit, then animals -- I had never seen them before, did not even know if animals went to heaven or not...  the woman and the animals seemed to be imploring me not to destroy the planet...  the woman told me she was Eve, the first creature I had embued with the Holy Ghost.   I had incarnated as all types of animals, though I had never procreated, had been filled with disgust, anxiety, the signs God the Father sent me that told me I was not to do something.   After eons of this, I was sitting under a tree feeling lonely, angry, pitying myself in a way that I do sometimes, regretting being the first to question God....  despite his laughter and loving me most of all for trying to save a planet I had been sent to destroy....  the Gift he gave me, my journey from planet to planet trying to steer them away from the early destruction that took so many...  I was already becoming the son of the animals, in a way...   I stood up and reached inside myself, tore out what they call the proverbial rib, threw it to the ground and created her.

She was black as night.   A creature closest to me, by design of God I know, from the species that would become the Great Destroyer...  an early ancestor of the chim/ape/man.   She knew the same loneliness and longing I felt, came into my arms...  we were never able to procreate.  Like her kind in that time she went off with others and had offspring, which we raised as our own.  They were different...  the Holy Spirit embued into her filled them with the same Golden Light I had seen.  This light I mistook for their soul until that afternoon.   She showed me life after life we had lived together, growing up together, falling in love, having children...  our Children would eventually rise into the eceholns of leaders, prophets, saints...  most.  Some became what you would consider Luciferrian, as if the the humanity and the holy spirit struggled.   Later I would learn more of this.

She told me that she had incarnated this time into the earth itself, and this was why I had sought her in woman after woman, as I had done before.  I was free to love without her...  though not free to love as we had.  The Holy Spirit is univeral now, she told me...  she said, in a melodic voice that was music, not word, from a vision of green with yellow outlines of animals and Even..."I did not want to tell you what I had done, until you made the decision not to destroy the earth."   She was speaking of nuclear war, which I was close to ordering.  We had already used them, to seal the DUMB at the White House when we took the president and the UN hostage.  I talked about the vision as it came, knowing the cameras were listening to me, and hoping to stop them from the hellish thought of the world ending... 

This was what terrified them most about me, I thought.  Movies and tv shows were coming out about how the world was ending, and instead of the jubilee this should have started, people were terrified.  Hollywood has made the apocolypse the work of evil.   Almost every movie is about somehow stopping it on the edge...  Buffy The Vampire, one of my favorite shows for a time, before one of the actresses on it turned on me, after doing atrocities in my name, and believing the bullshit that Ferrel was made to spread...  and thinking I wanted people to live like me, walk my path.   They were supposed to live like Jesus, not me...  I am a writer who is in chronic pain.who does nothing, follows a mission to kill everything I have ever loved.  Why would anyone want to live like me...

I hoped the vision was true.   James, a spy sent to be my friend -- he showed up right around the time a movie came out with Steve Carrol, titled A FRIEND FOR THE END OF THE WORLD.   His show the office had shown me a few things, nothing I can repeat to keep a few of my friends in this world hidden as long as possible, who were acting on something I said in ways I would not have done.   He came stumbling into my apartment as the vision ended, mumbling about THE VISION, THE VISION...  I think he expected me talk about it, but I was so used to having two different lives, one with the spies and others communicating in their secret languages on tv, the bugs... and no one in my life, except Mary Ann, who also saw the tv changing to say things we had, showing things we did.  I had no idea she was as heavily involved as she was, always wondered why she did not react with the same horror as me... and the night I confronted her on this she put on an act later like she was freaking out.  There was nothing I could do.... for awhie I thought about leaving her...  but there was no where to go, and I do not love lightly.   

I ASKED James what he meant by the visions, and he seemed to sober up instantly, said he had been doing mushrroms all nght.  Another day, when I had been messaging back and forth with a very open sexually native american girl. and he told me, DON'T LEAD THE WORLD INTO SLUTDOM...  he knew they were watching me, though we both pretended he didn't.  James knew how to live a cover life, had come from a family involved openly in the shadow war.  I instead was kept in the dark, and surprised as hell by what came down.  Even with the warning of the Ghosts...  who I hated for awhile when it first started for not telling me more, but like I wrote, then I would have tried to run form this fate.

Those days seemed another life.  Now there was open fighting across the country..  My peoople were all over, so were theirs.   I had ordered them, on good advice, to not hold any ground.  They didn't listen to me at first.   Gathered on the east coast trying to arrange a conventional army with all the vet's who flocked to our side when they were told that the country was going fascist, and they were going to be slaves in a feudal system of sorts... or genocided.   The result was what I feared,  three mushroom clouds taking out Boston.   After that the war was all about finding the heds of the snakes and cutting them off.  We had tremendous God like luck getting those they had abused all their lives, their servents, to kill their slave masters when we showed them the list of those who loved.  The elite had not bothered with a list of those who died -- what was the point, there would be 7 billion corpses.  They would live underground for a few years, while nature took it's course, and the smell of rotting flesh turned to dust to dust.

I think about the memory of Eve as two soldiers come into the barracks, excorting the national guardsman, telling him to get his things, that he was being transfered..  They were always careful in front of the sheep.  Did not want to panic them before the gassing..  The more normal things seemed, the more they would contact their families, welcome them, have them join the lines coming into the camp, rather than taking up guns and joining the fight against ISIS... which they still had the sheep convinced were foreign invaders.  My group had the backing of China and they tried to call us communist/socialists...  we were a mix of everything, waiting for the day we could start voting again, and people could be whatever the wished....   I told them a mix of small businesses, socialized banks and utilities, no monopolies...  In my world people could choose, their free will intact.   I was about the only leader left who spoke of free well.   They scoffed at us on Radio Free American, the last station broadcating, saying they were protecting free will.   Typical ass backwards world.

My job was to lay low and determine how the camps were being run.  I figured two days and I would have enough intel, then we were going take over,  show the sheep and the guards and the soldiers the films we had of what was going to happen to them, what was happening all across the country, offer them guns or sanctuary...   the smart one would realize the guns were the only sanctuary, the rest we were sending into National Parks, like yellowstone, which was lage enough for them to hide, for now...  we could not allow them to back into the civiilian population. That would lead to violence I abhorred... killing the innocent to save the innocent.   I could not allow a stampede.  They would come in and nuke the city if they thought we had them all on our side. 

 The thinking  was it would be easier to save them from a camp then convince them on the outside to join our cause....   already they were paranoid -- the only ones left alive at this point were paranoid, pretty much.   I still had a stupid dream of freeing Chicago, making it the base of our country...   so we were starting here with the FEMA camp attacks here.  We knew the turf, had hidden caches of weapons, and the extensive layers of underground tunnels gave us plenty of room to keep people hidden from ISIS.