Fight for Freedom

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A story I worte based on a conversation between me and my cousin. Comments would be appreciated. Some of the punctuation got messed up when I pasted it in here (indents, commas after quotation marks), but I don't feel like revising it any more right now. It's not fantasy based like most of the stories here, but I thought it would be a nice change of pace.

Classified document Classified document Classified document Classified document
Length: 7 pages
Date: October 19, 2032 Time: 1518 hours
Security level: A 1 A highest priority
Severe penalties and liabilities up to and including death for unauthorized viewing of this document
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Hello son, welcome to the Resistance! Come and have a seat, the techie will be with you in a few minutes. We will get these chips out of you, and you will be a free man again. Are you ready to fight for your rights? Good, good. We are going to take back what's ours! Me? I'm the guy who started this whole movement, although I don't claim any special significance. I just decided one day that I couldn't take it anymore, and decided to fight back. You want to hear the story? All right, although everyone here, from the techs and doctors, to our brave soldiers on the front lines, probably has a similar story they could tell you.

You know, looking back, I can still remember the day it all started, all those years ago. When I came home from work and saw that nasty big red and yellow logo on the outside of my building. I remember thinking, what the hell is this?

I called my landlady as soon as I got inside. She said it was part of a corporate sponsorship. Tried to tell me how it was a really good deal, that we could get a big discount on the rent if we went along with a few small changes.

"A few?" I asked. "What, you mean there is more?"

"Nothing to worry about" she tried to reassure me. She started babbling again about the rent, and how she would finally have money to make all the repairs I'd been asking for.

I hung up with her babbling still ringing in my ears. I booted my computer and logged into Sorcerer's Place. Not much new that day. Pandeen and Kenny were still flaming each other, ejsmith was making another passionate argument for his right to own big shiny guns, and Big B was asking what everyone's favorite "Jedi Mind trick" was.

Oh that's right, you don't know about Star Wars do you, son? It's an old movie, see, or rather, a series of movies. The last of them came out right before The Takeover. You see, back then, movies were not advertisements for commercials. In fact, aside from some product placement, they didn't have any advertising in them at all. Yes I know it's hard for you youngsters to imagine. But that's what we are fighting for son, the freedom to do what we want without having to get approval from your sponsors.

Anyway, the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. The whole country was being turned into "corporateville". There was advertising everywhere you looked. I'd heard they even paid people "guide" their friends and family towards certain products. It was almost obscene, and the thought of the symbol of one of the biggest monstrosities being pasted right on the very walls I was living in was like a throbbing tooth in my skull. Finally, I got a chair, went outside, and tore that damn thing down. I wanted to set it on fire, then jump up and down on it, but contented myself with throwing it in the garbage.

So, the next day, I came home from work, and it was back up again! It was a little wrinkled, and smelled like onions, but there it was. I don't need to tell you how pissed I was. I immediately called the landlady again.

The first thing out of her mouth was "Don't you ever do that again! I signed a contract! Do you have any idea what these people could do to me? If you breach the contract, they could sue me! I would go bankrupt, and they would wind up owning all of our buildings! Then you'd have to put up with it anyway!". She begged and pleaded, and finally I agreed to let the matter lie. For now, anyway.

"Just so you know, I am not happy about this at all!" I said to her.

"You don't have to be happy. Just don't make waves Matt, ok? Please" she cajoled.

I grumbled, but finally agreed. Little did I realize how much worse things would get, or how quickly.

Ah, there's the tech now. Do you want me to go in with you and finish the story? It might help take your mind off of the pain.

Well, yes it's going to hurt. When we take those chips out of you son, it has to be quick. If they get wind of what we're up to, they could send signals through the chips that could, well, you don't want to hear about that. When you first came here, we gave you something to temporarily block their tracking signals, but they have sensors in the chips that are programmed to detonate if anyone tampers with them, and when we remove them, it's got to be quick, for your own sake. You know, they are going crazy since we've discovered how to remove them! You should be glad you weren't born within the last 3 years; the countermeasures on the new chips make them pretty much impossible to remove. Don't look so frightened, son. You'll be fine. Remember, today is the first day of your independence! You should be happy and proud, because you are going to participate in a great emancipation!

Ok, just lie down and close your eyes. This will take about twenty minutes. Try to focus on my story instead of what the tech is doing, it will help.

All right, where was I? Oh yes:

Well, about a week after the sign went up on the outside of the building, my cousin Ryan dropped by with a strange story to tell. Nothing new there, when I see him, the first words out of his mouth are almost always, "You're never going to believe what happened to me today!". The funny thing is, I know most of these weird things really happened. You know how some people seem to have a "cloud of doom" that follows them around? Well, Ryan has this "cloud of bizarreness" that follows him. I swear, I have never met anyone who has so many strange things happen around him constantly.

"The last time I left here, these people stopped me down the street and started asking me all these questions!" he said. "Like, they were asking how often I came here, if I ever ate anything while I was here, what kind of food you ate, stuff like that. They wrote everything I said down on these little clipboards they had".

This was strange, even for Rye. I asked him a few questions, trying to figure out what was going on, but he didn't really know anything other that what he'd just told me. It didn't make much sense. It did, however infuse me with a sense of paranoia unlike anything I've ever experienced before. Everywhere I went, I imagined that people were watching me, listening to my conversations, things like that. Sounds crazy, right?

Well, a few days later I was at the grocery store, and... Oh! Well a grocery store is, well, you used to be able to buy whatever food you wanted to. Yes, really! You got these little buggies, and went up and down shelf after shelf of food, putting whatever you wanted in your cart. When you had everything you wanted, you checked out and paid for it. Yes, I know it must sound strange to you.

Anyway, I swore there was someone following me. He looked like a scientist or something, with combed over the bald spot hair, a white dress shirt with about 12 pens in the breast pocket, a tie, and horn-rimmed glasses. He was carrying a little notebook with him, and I noticed that every time I put something in my cart, he would write something down in his little notebook. I cornered him near the frozen food, and he suddenly became very interested in the pizzas on the shelf near him.

"Who are you?" I screamed.

He looked up. "Are you talking to me?"

"I know you are following me!" I yelled. "Why are you writing down everything that I'm buying? Answer me!"

I had grabbed him by the arms and was screaming in his face. Then I felt a tapping on my shoulder.

"Excuse me" came a voice behind me. "Is there a problem?"

I turned around and saw a short balding man with a name tag that read "Shop and Save" and below that, "manager".

"Well this guy is following me around, and taking notes on what I'm buying". Even as I said it, I realized how paranoid I sounded. I looked around. Little old people were staring at me with fearful eyes. If I had started babbling about UFO's or government conspiracies, they would be looking at me with those same eyes. I had to get out of the store. I mumbled something to the manager and left, my groceries still in the cart.

The next day, I came home from work, and my front door was wide open. There was a truck marked "RMD Construction" in my parking space. I walked into my apartment, and there were two people in my kitchen taking measurements. They were dressed in jeans, work shirts, and hard hats.

"What the HELL are you doing in my apartment" I shouted.

One of them looked up. He looked like Barry White on a bad hair day. "Oh hello. I'm Gerry from RMD construction. We're here to take some measurements. We'll install it here, and use this window". He pointed toward the sink.

"WHAT?"

"Um, didn't you get the notice in the mail? It's in the new contract we signed with your landlady" He said, then turned back to the other guy. "Ok, so how long will it take to modify this then?"

The other guy looked at it thoughtfully "Couple days probably".

I started looking through my mail. A letter from the landlady. I ripped it open. It was a notice about how "RMD Corp" would be installing some "mini food service stations" in some of the apartments, and we were to cooperate "to the highest degree". It also contained a few pages of incomprehensible legalese in a 2-point font.

She wasn't answering the phone. Smart move on her part. I would have screamed her ears off. But I definitely would hire a lawyer the next day who would rip this agreement to shreds.

The men left shortly afterwards. The next day I took the letter and contract to a lawyer I'd seen on television, Attorney Edgar Snyder "No fee unless we get money for YOU. Free consultation."

The first thing he said when I showed it to him was "you know, we have gotten 250 of these cases within the last 2 days. I have been over the contracts, and basically, we might be able to challenge it, but to get a restraining order is going to take at least a week. Civil cases like this tend to drag on for years. Now, my fee is $250 an hour. How did you want to pay for this?"

"Ed, I thought there was no fee unless you win the case" I said.

"Well, there are terms and conditions attached to it. You have to look at the fine print in the ads"

"Ed, I don't want to deal with fine print. That's why I came to you" I responded. "Well, thanks for nothing". I tried to slam his door on my way out, but it was one of those pneumatic doors and only hissed slowly shut.

Back home, the front door was wide open, my kitchen sink was lying on the driveway, and there were 6 or 7 people busily sawing and banging away in the kitchen. The Barry White clone approached me, clipboard in hand.

"Hi Matt". He stuck out his hand. I just glared at him, and the hand was retracted. "Well, we're almost done for the day. It will be just a few more hours. We will do the painting and rewiring tomorrow".

"Great, thanks Barry" I snarled, and stomped upstairs.

"My name is Gerry" he called after me.

"Whatever" I called back.

This went on for a few days. Finally, the "mini food service station" was ready for business. They operated through the kitchen window, and cooked their chemical burgers on a special microwave type contraption. There was a deep fryer, a fountain drink dispenser, and a shake mixer. I wasn't allowed near any of it. The Barry clone, now wearing a blue shirt and a "manager" nametag, told me I could get a discount on the food.

"Come on, I've read Fast Food Nation. I know what's in those burgers! I know about the fries!" I told him.

"Do you really think it's worse than those nasty burritos you like so much" he asked, smiling. I wanted to kill him. Even just one punch to knock that smug look off of his face would have done me a world of good.

"But I KNOW what is in your burgers. I don't know what's in the burritos."

Well from then on, he started bringing nutritional informational pamphlets, which I would throw away without reading. Hey, I had to eat SOMETHING, and at least an evil corporate empire didn't make the burritos. Not that I knew of anyway.

Wow. You know son, I have never heard anyone scream that loud before. We better have a doctor look you over and make sure your vocal cords weren't damaged.

Well, because if we gave you something to block the pain, it would trigger the self-destruct mechanism.

Okay. Well, it just got worse from there. Every few weeks, I would come home and the construction truck would be parked outside, like a red and yellow harbinger of doom. It got to the point where I felt nauseated at the sight of it. Every 2 or three weeks, they would take over another little corner, another small space. They expanded the counter, added seats to my living room, added a hand sanitizer to my bathroom, and put that horrible gaudy Formica everywhere. They expanded into my computer room, putting another seating area in there. They constantly tried to convince me to eat the terrible slop they called food. Eventually, they even offered it to me for free.

The kicker was when the Barry clone asked me to stay in my room or "wear a uniform and maybe pitch in around the place, since all you do is sit in your room and mope anyway. That's not what we're all about, Matt. This is a place for smiles!". Big cheesy grin.

That time I really did punch him. God, that felt so good. Of course I was evicted the next day. I got a letter saying that I just "don't fit in with the corporate image, so regretfully we are going to have to terminate your position at 1034 Lilac. We wish you the best of luck in finding a new residence".

"Goodbye, loser" Barry sneered as I picked up my few remaining possessions and dejectedly made my way out.

"My name is Matt" I yelled back.

"Whatever".

But Attorney Edgar Snyder was right. They were popping up everywhere. First there was one on every corner, and then one every few houses. I stayed at my cousin Greg's apartment in Oakland for a while, then the same thing happened there. That was right before they shut down the colleges and universities. We began living under a bridge with some other lost souls who "didn't fit the corporate image". That's when I decided to fight back.

Well son, that's my story. There's more, about how we became more organized, not just a rag-tag band of rebels, but an actual organization, but that's enough for now. Of course, we had to keep it kind of loose. After all, big organizations were what got us into this mess in the first place. Then, when they started implanting the chips, we had scientists that could counter them. As the chips got more advanced (some of the early ones would explode for no apparent reason), we got better at...

Hey, What are you doing with that gun? CODE RED! CODE RED! WE HAVE A SPY! WE
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Transmission ends here. Apparently our boy had a problem with his transmitter that prevented his own voice from being sent. Something to be corrected in the next release. It's a sporadic thing, really, doesn't happen often. We have NASA working on it. But as you can see, there is enough here to declare our boy a hero. He's assassinated the leader and several other high-ranking officials. We've finally crushed those bothersome rebels, Ron. You might want to give him a medal, or at least consider him for "Employee of the year".

Respectfully,
Sergeant Ham B.

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[ November 22, 2002, 22:51: Message edited by: Nutrimat ]

 

ROTFL love the ending hehe

Very good

 

Very cool story. Reminds me of a short story I read about a musician who started composing songs rather than advertising jingles. Very nice twist.