Chapter
13
A Serialized Story of the
Not So Distant Future
June 7, 2005
Part Thirty One
Authors Note: I apologize for the delay in installments lately, this has mainly been due to other events in my life taking precedent for the moment. Over the next week or so I hope to be getting back to a pattern of posting every other day again.
Sam woke up the next morning some time after Martha had left for work. He flipped on the TV to watch the news.
"The fires, which are still burning out of control show no sign of stopping. So far, there are seven confirmed fatalities, including. Dr. Henry Rivers, a microbiologist from the University of Illinois, Thomas Evans, a Homeland Security employee and five persons who have not yet been identified. The lists of injuries is in the hundreds, mostly from smoke inhalation, but several people are being treated for severe burns as well."
Impressive as it was, the devastation looked far more sanitized on television than it did in person. At ground zero, the scene looked like armeggedon. The television crews routinely showed 5 or 6 scenes over and over, including the dramatic refinery explosion.
The phone rang and Sam picked it up, it was Misty.
"Hey Sam."
"Hi Misty, how are you?"
"Tired. I dreamed that you died in that fire last night."
"The refinery fire?" Sam asked, he was trying to play dumb.
"I saw you there with a bunch of other people, you went into someone's house and it exploded while you were carrying someone out."
Sam's heart was racing, Misty had actually seen Chapter 13, although she must have interpreted part of it wrong. Perhaps she confused Sam with a fire fighter or something.
"That's pretty freaky." Sam said.
There was an uncomfortable pause on the other side of the line. "Do you want to tell me about it?" Misty said.
Sam remembered her knack for knowing when he was lying. "Not over the phone, I've got to meet with Dawn's father this afternoon, but I'm free after that."
"I've got to work tonight." Misty said, "maybe we can get together tomorrow."
"Sure." Sam said, "I have a Tai Chi class at six, but after that I'm free."
"Cool, not at the Red Eye though, some place private." Misty said.
"Ok, but I don't really know..."
"We can just hang out at my place."
"Sure." Sam said, a little apprehensive about where this might be going. "I'll see you tomorrow night then."
He hung up the phone and wondered if Misty was looking for him to be a boyfriend or not. She was an attractive girl, although all the black clothing and makeup was a bit much for anyone to take.
Sam got ready to meet Joshua Weinstien and realized how good it felt to have some sort of purpose again. Maybe I'll enroll in school again, he thought as he headed out the door.
He decided to take the bus and train again, he left himself plenty of time so that he could get some lunch downtown as well. He reached the bus stop and luckily, there was a bus coming down the street. To Sam's ire it passed as if it didn't see him. Some things haven't changed, he thought.
The next bus took about 15 minutes to come by, it definitely saw Sam, slowed down, but then accelerated again leaving a very irate Sam on the curb.
"What the hell?" Sam said. He gave up and walked back to the house, as he walked he dialed the number for car service.
"Bay Car Service"
"Yes, I need a car for 1122 72nd street."
"Yeah, uh, hold on a sec... sorry, we got no cars free right now, call back in an hour."
"Your kidding."
"No sir, we're very short drivers, call back in an hour." The man hung up the phone.
Sam looked around the house but there was no Yellow Pages to be found. He went upstairs and googled "taxis."
He called the first one he found, which had no problems with staffing. They had a car out to Sam's house in 20 minutes.
Sam got in and gave the driver the address, the driver was listening to a talk radio station:
"My friends listen to this latest bit of idiocy by the terminal and intolerable Senator from New York Hilary Clinton. Mrs. Clinton had the gall today to introduce once again the so-called Voter Accountability Act which would require paper receipts of votes for both the individual voting as well as in toto for the voting terminal itself."
"In a statement on the floor of Congress, Mrs. Clinton said that there hasn't been a 'free and fair election in the United States in over a decade.' Hmm, conviently enough, that's how long it's been since the Democrats have been able to produce a winning candidate. I have news for you lady, it ain't the machines that are at fault."
"What I really want to know, my friends is where are the environmentalists to protest this proposed waste of paper? Seriously folks, can you imagine how much wasted paper this would produce? If a Republican suggested such a proposal the Environ-Mental Cases would raise H E double hockey sticks."
"And speaking of the Wackos, Alicia Sawyers, the 38 year old Congresswoman from California and the token Green Party member of Congress, has announced that she will run for President in 2016. The Green Party now claims to have more registered members that the Democratic Party, although they only hold a handful of offices around the country, mostly at the local level. Sawyers, whom we all remember as The Scarlet Witch, or the woman who gets it on with a Robot, in the 2007 movie: 'The Avengers.'"
"No doubt she's counting on her celebrity status to get her votes. Well let me tell you Mizzzz. Sawyer, it wasn't star power that got Ronald Reagan the presidency, it was his honor and integrity as a great American. The good people of this country will never vote for a half-wit, basket weaving, mouthpiece for the geriatric Woodstock generation!"
"Mizz Sawyers has not specified her campaign platform yet, but she has stated that bringing home American troops will be her top priority."
Sam made a mental note to look up Alicia Sawyers when he got home.
The radio continued to drone on as the taxi made it's way through traffic and finally arrived at it's destination. Sam paid the driver and got out. Joshua Weinstien's office was on a storefront filled with ACLU signs and peace slogans.
Sam tried the door, but it was locked. He tried the doorbell, and a female voice over the intercom asked who it was.
"Sam Quinn." The door buzzed and Sam came inside.
The office was pleasant enough, it was carpeted and the secretary's desk faced the door. The woman, who was silver haired and looked like she might be in her seventies greeted Sam as he came inside.
"Hello Mr. Quinn, I'm Rachel. Sorry about the door, our signs often attract a certain crowd, so we have to be careful."
"I'm surprised you have a front window." Sam said.
"Oh, that used to get broken all the time, Joshua finally had to invest in special security glass. Have a seat, he'll be with you in a few minutes."
Sam sat down in a squarish office chair, and glanced at the magazines on the wall. He didn't have to wait long, Joshua popped his head out the door and invited him in.
"Good to see you again Sam, how are you today?"
"Pretty good, thanks."
"I've got something to show you." Joshua said, he turned his laptop around so that Sam could see the screen.
"This is supposedly a privately owned website, but in reality it's a dumping ground for Homeland Security. This morning your name and picture came up on it."
The site was a list of people's photos along with names and addresses, and Sam could see that his photograph from the Red Eye had been posted along with his name and address, the site banner read: 'New Pinkies on the Block.'
"What is this exactly?" Sam asked.
"You've been pink listed." Joshua explained, "the site is supposedly privately owned but it's really a Homeland Security front. You might find yourself harrassed by strangers, and local business might refuse to serve you."
"Can you do anything about this?" Sam asked.
"Not much," Joshua sighed. "I can get your image taken down, but by now it's being mirrored on 50 other sites like this around the country. It's a typical harassment tactic for these guys. Don't worry, your in good company.
He pulled up a file and showed his own image, and then Dawn's, Stubs, and Fix. "Anyone who hangs out at the Red Eye usually ends up here sooner or later." Joshua said.
"What I do want to do is put some legal heat on Agent Weltz. I've never dealt with this guy personally, but my sources say that he's an animal. Establishing a paper trail of his actions is imperative, I also want you to call me any time he has had contact with you. It will take at least a week before I can get the Order of Protection, assuming the Judge will sign it.
He handed Sam some papers to sign which Sam filled out while only skimming them briefly. The legalese was way too much for Sam to actually read through.
As he was signing, there were some thumping sounds from the floor above, it sounded as if people were stamping their feet in unison.
"Sorry, that's Dawn and some of her friends." Joshua said, "they're preparing for another protest."
"Cool." Sam said, "I give her a lot of credit, it takes guts to do what she does."
"I'm very proud of her." Joshua said, "she really puts herself on the front lines in these situations. I often tease her that half of my practice is devoted to keeping her out of jail."
"So what can I expect from Homeland Security in the long term?" Sam asked.
"Basically, you're going to have to keep your nose as clean as possible. They'll jump on you for the slightest infraction, and trump it up as best they can. They'll try to provoke you into angry responses, don't give in no matter what tricks they pull."
"Gotcha." Sam said.
"And keep a record of any strange events or harassment you may experience, from anyone." Joshua said.
"Like the city buses passing me by this morning?"
"Exactly like that." Joshua said. "Give me the bus line and the times it happened, we won't be able to do too much about it but keeping records is our best defense."
"Man, some days I wish I was back in my coma." Sam joked.
"What a world you woke up into." Joshua said. "But you know, I believe it's getting better. The governments trying to keep a lid on things, but the anger is growing, more and more people are starting to rise up."
"I hope so." Sam said, "I can't say I've seen many signs of it myself."
"Right now Sam, the best thing you can do is confound all methods of passive surveilence that you can."
"Passive surveilance?"
"RFID scanners, security cams, that sort of thing. You've been scanned a hundred times between your house and here."
"Well, my clothes are all over a decade old, so they don't have any chips in them."
"That's a good start. If you need new clothes, there are vintage shops around here that features tag free stuff, including underwear, shoes and wallets."
"Vintage underwear?" Sam asked.
"No," Joshua said laughing, "I meant it's actually new stuff manufactered without tags in them. You might also consider going Jawa."
"Now your just messing with me," Sam said, "you're talking abou the little guys from Star Wars, right?"
"Sort of, do you remember their hooded cloaks? There are places manufactering oversized cloaks and sweatshirts which you can use to hide your identity from passive scanners. They actually have an aluminum alloy mesh in them which reflects high frequency waves."
"Uh, no thanks, that seems a bit too tin-foil hat for my tastes." Sam said.
"I understand, but keep in mind that as of yesterday, you are living in tin foil hat territory. Homeland Security acts first and worries about the legality of it later. The courts will frequently support them if they convince the judge that someone was in some way a threat to society. They have become the American KGB, and their power is steadily growing."
"But I'm not doing anything illegal." Sam said.
"You're bucking the system. You're a non-conformist, in their eyes that makes you a threat. Their first goal is to intimidate you back into the system, that's what happened last night. This may continue, you mentioned your brother is an agent, he might try to influence you next. Otherwise, they will follow you, ostracize you, and arrest you at the slightest infraction of the law."
"What else can I do in my own defense?" Sam asked.
"I've got one more thing for you." Joshua handed him a small plastic device with a single button on it.
"This is a 'Panic Button' that I've programmed with your name. Right now, it's inert and there are no passive microphones or anything else that Homeland Security can take advantage of. When you press that button, it sends a one time message to my cell phone number and marks where you are with GPS, after that it goes dead again unless you reset the switch by hand like this. He opened up the front of the device and pressed down on a small button which released the spring for the larger outer button.
"Use this, any time you think you're about to be arrested. Don't worry about false alarms. I'll find out soon enough if you're all right. Do you have a regular cell phone?"
"Yeah." Sam took it out and handed it to him. "I got the most basic model, without any GPS or anything."
Joshua typed the model number into his computer. "It still has GPS, the company installs it in all their phones as a favor to Homeland Security. Get yourself a stealth phone from Crane, he handed Sam a business card. They're expensive, but they're top of the line for insuring your privacy."
They were interupted by two short rings on Joshua's desk phone.
"Hi Dawn." Joshua said, "oh sure. Hey, Sam's down here if you want to say hello." He handed Sam the phone.
"Hey Sam, how are you feeling today?"
"Paranoid and overwhelmed at the moment." Sam said lightly.
"Good that means you're paying attention."
"Oh my God!" Joshua said, he turned his monitor around so that Sam could see the screen as well, they were watching a newsfeed of what looked like a riot.
"What is this?" Sam asked.
"Strike at an Ohio weapons plant," Dawn said in his ear. "When you're done down there, come upstairs, pass me back to my Dad."
"Yeah."
Sam watched the scene unfolding on the screen before him, protestors carrying signs, and banners had formed a tight line before an oncoming army of police officers in riot gear. The police had something that looked like a tank mounted with a sattelite dish instead of a gun. Their was no obvious noise from the device, but strikers began dropping their signs and clutching their chests and heads.
The strikers regrouped, attacking the police from all sides at once. Sam briefly saw one sign that read: "Ohio Cancer Up, Births Down" other's had radiation symbols on them. Despite their sophisticated weaponry, the cops were being overwhelmed and strikers were swarming up the tank and tearing at it's odd looking weapon.
Joshua got off the phone and turned up the sound.
"What you are watching is a live feed from the General Armory Weapons plant in Graton Ohio. This is an illegal strike by workers at the plant who claim that the depleted uranium used in creating some of the weapons here, is causing health problems for the employees and the surrounding area."
The next anchor's voice came on to say: "Of course, the government has investigated these claims, and after a two year study they found that the only legitmate cases of uranium exposure were done by employees who failed to follow proper safety guidelines, thus waiving their rights to sue."
"It looks like I'll be going to Ohio for a few days at least." Joshua said, try to keep your head down ok?"
The screen filled with clouds of tear gas, and the sounds of gunfire were heard in the distance.
"What you are hearing is rubber bullets being sprayed into the crowd as a warning." The anchor calmly explained.
From the reaction of the strikers though, the bullets were far from harmless. Many of them looked like they were knocked out by the impact.
A second wave of troops came in, these weren't cops but National Guardsmen, they began rounding up the strikers who were too busy choking and retching from the effects of the tear gas to fight back any more. The scene cut back to the anchor room and Joshua turned it off.
"This is bad." Joshua said, "these poor guys never stood a chance."
"What precisely made that strike illegal?" Sam said, "they didn't look violent until the police got there."
"Congress passed War Necessities Act a few years ago, which changed the status of any military supplier to the same as a cop or fire fighter during times of war, so it's technically illegal for them to go on strike at all."
"Geez, does it ever end?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, it does. But it takes gutsy people like those strikers, and like you. People who draw a line and say that's it, you can't push me any further. As sad as this tragedy is Sam, it is a sign that the Bush Empire is weakening, people are fighting back now."
"But they never stood a chance," Sam said, "the cops and the guardsmen knocked them down like bowling pins."
"They'll never win the battle in those sorts of confrontations, actually it might be worse if they did. Public sympathy will go towards the striker's now, and more investigations of DU poisoning will result. The government will keep trying to bury this, but more and more this stuff is coming to the surface. It's truly sad that it had to come to this, but sometimes it's the only way."
The phone rang again, it was Rachel asking him if he wanted to take a call. "Sam, I've got to take this call, as I expected the ACLU is mobilizing to defend these strikers." He put out his hand, "you stay in touch with me, document any small incidents with Rachel even stuff like the buses not stopping. Any direct harassment, call me directly or push that panic button."
"Okay." Sam said, "thanks for all your help."
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