Clark makes it back for the Daily Acknowledgement in the quad.
We pledge anew
In this light of morning
Our devotion
To The Protectorate of New Cascadia
May the wise strategy of our birth
And purity of our blood
Stand proud against our adversaries
After the DA the young men break into smaller groups for cardio/agility routines. The most strenuous routine entails heading straight into West Rip, then up the backside of Mount Mumbo. Clark, with something to prove after not killing the child, falls in line with a half dozen Forward Operatives.
Instead of physical exertion quieting his mind, his mind is restless.
Clark thinks about the formation of New Cascadia after the Currency Wars broke out in the fall of 2019. The Pacific Northwest was the only region to resist the implanting after soldiers joined breakaway militia groups and launched an assault on UN forces in Spokane. They got the hardware and software to disable and remove the implants, along with a handful of scientists who knew how to do it.
This technology was supposed to benefit the many different groups who committed their people to the cause, but a few key betrayals allowed the best armed and financed groups to dominate. Those who lost this power struggle were eventually implanted and later, developed Derivative Swap. Those who won, won the power to exclude, and they used it, fighting with Eastern forces until an understanding regarding trade and territory was worked out.
Before the Forward Operatives get too far into their routine, the Commander of the FOA, flanked by two high-ranking officers, appears on the trail. The men stop.
“Oh shit, it’s Commander Parsons” Clark hears one of the cadets whisper. The Commander takes a step forward, scanning the men. Then he locks eyes with Clark.
“You, cadet, come with me.” The Commander commands. Clark’s stomach drops to his feet.
“Yes sir!” Clark replies, trying to put as much confidence into his tone as possible.
“The rest of you, carry on.” The young men do as they are told. Without another word the Commander turns and begins walking. One of the other officers motions to Clark with a nod, and Clark falls in line behind the trio, back toward the main campus of the FOA.
*
“Why am I sitting here? That’s what you are thinking right now.” Commander Parsons states, staring unblinkingly at Clark; the make-you-squirm stare has the desired impact. Clark wants to respond, but can’t seem to form the words because I didn’t take the shot.
“Because you didn’t take the shot, that’s what you’re thinking, am I right?”
Clark nods.
“Well, you are correct, but there’s a catch, Cadet. The situation in which you assume you failed is a situation we created to test you, and you did not fail.” Clark blinks. What did he just hear? A test?!
“Still nothing to say?”
Clark knows he has to say something, and he wants it to be convincing, so he sticks with the truth.
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“No, you wouldn’t. And you still won’t understand all of it, and that’s of course by design. What I will tell you is this: there is a group out there giving us more than the usual problems. I know you think your lady friend is out there, which is why you’ve already thought about leaving. I’m glad you didn’t, it makes it cleaner this way. We think she is a part of this. Which means they have a special interest in you, Clark. Any idea why that would be?”
“No, sir.” Clark replies.
*
William is in his apartment, alone. Outside mortars burst and fire-crackers explode. It’s less than an hour until the New Year, so why shouldn’t Americans simulate warfare to usher in another year of imperial depravity?
“I assume that’s a rhetorical question.” Says Jim.
“Yeah, sure, why don’t you rhetorically question my dick.” William retorts, slightly slurred.
“You think you’re so different from the drunks out there, huh. Well, self-pitying drunks are pretty common. Trust me.”
“Fuck off, Jimbo.” William jabs.
“Cool down, man. I know you’re just trying to get a rise from Mr. Mojo Risin, but it ain’t gonna happen.”
“So, Jimbo, what’s the fucking point? What’s going to happen? I’ve been reading and reading about all this bad energy kick-started with your fuck-all burn it down Dionysian song and dance schtick and honestly I’m getting less and less impressed—because you weren’t some shaman trying to heal the tribe. You were a fucking agent of chaos doing their dirty work, whether you knew it or not.”
“The point?” Jim replies. “The point is to know, Billy. You aren’t totally wrong, but you also don’t know what it was like to get turned on only to have the tables turned on you in ways that still don’t seem real. We were inflated with fame and fortune, then systematically taken out. Only now, after reading what you have read, are you starting to understand the power they had to cover it all up. Mama Cass didn’t choke on a ham sandwich, Jimi didn’t choke on his own vomit, and I didn’t die of a heart attack in a bathtub.”
“I know.” William says, somewhat sheepishly.
“No, you don’t.”
“So, why don’t you tell me, Mr. Rock Star. Tell me what’s going to happen during this glorious New Year we are about to experience.”
“Look how quickly apologetics turns to indignation when alcohol is involved. Why should I tell you anything right now?”
“Because I think you are using me, I think you are lying to me, and I think this whole thing is meaningless and that maybe I’ve lost it. Maybe I’m having a nervous breakdown.”
“I don’t want you to feel like you’re going crazy, but I do want to be as honest as possible, so I will say this: you won’t see the fruits of your efforts, William.”
William tries to process this, but it’s a fog. With comprehension for William lacking, Jim continues.
“Science and technology aren’t evolving your species, it’s ensnaring you. It’s not about Jack’s rockets or Aleister’s law. It’s about what they keep doing to her, over and over and over.”
William is nodding off, the monologue lost on his conscious mind, but before passing out William grabs a pen and an envelop from the floor.
The next day—the first day of a new year—William comes to consciousness slowly, blearily, rising from his mattress and going straight for water from the bathroom. When William returns he notices the envelope on the floor, picks it up, and reads the poem he doesn’t remember writing:
racism hides behind fascism
fascism hides behind occultism
occultism hides inside Hollywood
Hollywood hides inside the sun
the sun hides inside Horus
Horus hides inside mind
mind hides behind bone
bone hides behind skin
skin hides behind words
words hide behind law
law hides behind will
will hides behind ego
ego hides behind the Great Beast
the Great Beast hides in plain sight...
and that is why
she can’t come home
*
Clark takes leave of Commander Parsons and emerges outside, eyes blinking in the bright sun. Clark has one day to prepare to leave the secure confines of the FOA. The mission is simple: be the bait. The bait for what, Clark has no idea. Commander Parsons didn’t share any intelligence on the group causing unspecified problems other than it was unlike other problems they had with securing the supply lines.
As Clark crosses the quad he sees Jax jog down the steps of Main Hall. Jax sees Clark and waves him over. What the hell, Clark thinks, might as well see where this is going.
“Are you really going out there tomorrow?” Jax asks, getting right down to it.
“What, Jax, no hello how ya doin? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do tomorrow other than follow orders.”
“Which are?”
“You said it.”
“Right, well, I’ll spare you all the rumors going around and just say be the best red meat for the beasts you can be.” Jax puts a hand on Clark’s shoulder, an uncharacteristically tender thing for Jax to do. “What are you carrying?” Jax asks.
“Commander said I can’t carry my side piece, and I don’t have credit to pick up anything right now.”
“I thought so, so I brought you a little gift from the Zombie Tools inventory. Here.” Jax hands Clark a nice blade. “This may come in handy.”
“Wow, thank you Jax.” Clark says, taking the blade and turning it back and forth while scanning the edge. “This is a nice blade.”
“Yeah, make good use of it if you need to. I’ve been out there and I know how things can go down. Stay sharp.”
Clark nods, appreciative of this rare moment of camaraderie. Jax gives Clark a final salute, and strides back toward Main Hall.
*
Faced with a thrumming hangover and general bewilderment as to how to run out the hours of New Year’s Day, William decides to go solo to the cinema to watch the 7th installment of Stars Wars, this one subtitled The Force Awakens.
After seemingly endless advertisements and movie previews, the movie begins, unfolding with the predictability this billion dollar franchise now requires to satiate audiences hungry for nostalgia.
William endures the auditory assault and rehashed plot guaranteed to break records and please the masses. It’s terrible, William surmises.
The fascist-styled First Order is the direction America’s police state is steadily moving, William thinks, after watching the General gives his Hitleresque address to the storm troopers. It’s easy to see the caricature on the screen, but how many good Americans will exit the theatre with their blissful obliviousness intact? How many will continue to ignore America’s convoluted support of jihadists and neo-Nazis in places like Syria and Ukraine? What the power players can’t control they destroy with death and chaos. It’s insane.
William’s mind wanders to the book he’s currently devouring. David Talbot’s The Devil’s Chessboard is contributing mightily to William’s growing cynicism. Allen Dulles’ brinkmanship was so focused on combating Communist Russia after WWII, that he enlisted Nazis directly from Hitler’s ranks. William feels the words moving, solidifying, as he reads them. It’s in the air again, wafting from the tightening of Europe amidst waves of refugees fleeing the slaughter in the Middle East.
The movie barely holds William’s attention. It’s essentially a blatant rehashing of episode 4, where Luke is plucked from Tatooine. Instead of paying attention, William plays with some lines for a poem or maybe a song:
unlock the lock with paperclip
give them prisoner and patient minds
eat the heart of artichoke
swallowing is clandestine
don’t forget how Frank did fly
through a window and down to die
dose the host and watch him spin
our First Order: the west must win
Finally, the movie concludes with a ridiculously long, rotating shot of Rey extending the light saber to Luke on top of a mountain. Whatever, William thinks. The movie ends and William exits the theatre as quickly as possible.
Outside the light has shifted from late afternoon to evening. It’s cold. William walks to the bike rack. No bike. DAMN IT! What to do, William thinks. Report it to the police? Bikes get stolen all the time in this town. Might as well start walking.
Before setting off William contemplates texting Pamela for a ride. The phone is in his hand when he stops. William knows where his bike is. Someone from the Reserve Street camps probably took it. Of course. Fuck it, William thinks, I’m getting my bike back.
William walks the snow-beaten path to the dry patch underneath the bridge, where people burn whatever they can to stay warm.
“That’s my bike.” William announces to the motley crew of street kids mixed with a few gaunt-faced tweakers extra twitchy with this unwanted attention. Heads quickly turn to assess this brazen intrusion on their territory.
“You must be swinging something big to be coming down here talking about your bike like your bike means shit to us.” The tallest, twitchiest tweaker proclaims. William watches pairs of eyes bounce back and forth. A few clandestine smiles spread between the street of kids as they anticipate violence.
“Sure I’m swinging something big, I got Jim Morrison in my head telling me about magic and drugs and the devil creeping through every crack, that’s what I got.” William says, operating on an honesty-is-the-best-policy approach to the situation. Before the tower of tweak can respond, a familiar voice speaks up.
“Give him his wheels, Stringer, the kid hid me out after the raid.”
It’s Tee-Pee. William exhales. The bike appears from the shadows.
“You vouch for this day-walker?” Stringer asks Tee-Pee.
“Yes, I do.” Tee-Pee replies. Stringer nods. The bike is officially returned.
William walks his wheels back toward the parking lot, not noticing Stringer following behind.
“Stop.”
William stops, turns around.
“What are you doing?” Stringer asks.
“I’m taking my bike behind locked doors, that’s what I’m doing.”
“We know you.” Stringer announces, giving William an intense look.
“Who is ‘we’?” William asks, feeling the shadow of foreboding creeping over him.
“The Brotherhood. Where do you think Hatch got his big boom-boom?” Stringer smiles a smile that sends shivers down William’s spine.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.” William lies unconvincingly. Stringer laughs.
“Ok Billy, but just you wait and see. The purge is coming and from the ashes The Brotherhood of Light will rise. Listen to your blood and you will know.” And with that, Stringer turns around and walks back into the shadows under the bridge.