Post by Rangis Mukondo on May 30, 2008 2:28:10 GMT
Hey, figured I'd post this on here, see what you lot think of it. I only spent about a day and a half on these 3 chapters, and it shows, so just tell me what you think 
Prologue
Every country eventually runs its course. Like water in a stream, constant changes occur, until said stream dries up…
Just as the ever-present simile of the stream delivers water to larger, more important, oceans; thus had our society empowered others over the generations.
…Perhaps, even, to a fault…
The year is 12,032. Actually, from our former point of view, it is only 2032. It was decided, with the Treaty of London, that our “outdated” BC-AD scale had to be modified. Thus, the time before the year 1 was compensated for…with 10,000 extra years. Hard to comprehend? You don’t know the half of it.
Enter the Free Trade Agreement of 2013. That is, 12,013. To save time, the years will be referred to in the outdated system from now on.
You may remember previous Free Trade Agreements. Do not use these as examples to help you picture this upcoming law. It is radically different.
To understand it, one must fully comprehend the changing times. There had been full scale war between the United States and Russia. Russia, fighting to protect its vast expanse of land, wished to convince other nations to join in their cause.
However, the United States, being the “Ruler of the Free World,” supplies most nations with their necessities via trade. If a country were to aid Russia, they would impose Tariffs on said country…if not bar them from exporting and importing their goods altogether.
Thus, Russia continued on, attempting to halt the monopolization of the oil-mongering United States. As long as America controlled trade, they controlled everything.
The objective, then, is to take this control away.
But how?
Russian Foreign Affairs Advisor, Niklas Shcotz, stumbled upon the answer. He realized that, to break the stalemate, Russia needed to level the playing field, giving themselves equal control.
…Giving everyone equal control…
Thus, the Free Trade Agreement of 2013 was presented before the United Nations. The idea was that, no matter how small the country, they could be supplied. It eliminated Tariffs, but that was the least of its effects.
This agreement did not give a nation the right to trade. It forced them to trade. Stronger, stable nations, such as America, were forced to give discounts, and even handouts, to weaker nations.
The resulting flurry of transactions was such that it astonished even the most learned experts. Russia was able to gather its own alliance, and fight off the invading US. And, for about a decade, there was the illusion of peace. Each country kept to themselves, for the most part. Genocide still occurred in third world countries, but no one thought about that. Keeping the illusion was far more important.
During the ensuing decade, many different groups took advantage of this cease-fire. With the driving force of world authority, the United States, out of the equation, it was the picture perfect time to plan opposition. After all, weapons were included in the discount. Small countries were buying such weapons at a startling rate, but, by the time anyone had thought to modify the agreement, enough damage had been done.
Terrorism is not effective if it happens in times of war. During those periods, such actions are expected, and ten times harder to pull off. However, breaking the peace is a simple matter. And, when one breaks the peace, fear takes control.
This is how the United States, and several other countries, fell. A terrorist cell, calling themselves the Disciples of Justice, staged numerous attacks of the guiding powers of the world. The buildings and landmarks known and cherished by many, fell. The Empire State Building, Parliament, the Eiffel Tower, Saint Petersburg. The group attacked indiscriminately, seeming to have no loyalties of any kind.
Rebellions began. People were scared of this group, and tired of the government’s seemingly inability to put an end to the attacks. One by one, the nations fell, until nothing but a confused anarchy remained of the Earth. The people needed a leader. One they could trust. And who better to trust than one who has been able to do all he wished for the past several decades? The leader they chose...the man who had led the Disciples of Justice…was named Juliann Ragloff.
Thus, the tale begins, in this time period. In the middle of a dictatorship brought about by terrorism, and fueled by fear. There have been rumors of an uprising, but these are in stark contrast with the general public, who prefer to stay on the good side of the iron fisted Ragloff. Around the world, nowhere is worse off than what had previously been Washington, DC. And this is where our tale truly begins…
Chapter 1
If there was one person who would vouch for Ragloff through thick and thin, it was Stephen Rainey. Each day, as the announcements were heard over the television of the new accomplishments of Ragloff and his party, he devoured every word of it. His discussions seemed to revolve around these ideals, and never before had someone been so adept at remembering each bit of information about a person. In fact, his penchant for Ragloff bordered on obsession.
This was not, of course, entirely his fault. Since his induction as leader, one of Ragloff’s primary focuses had been propaganda. Namely, others were wrong, he is right. One would think he would attempt to erase history of previous leaders. What he did was far more sinister.
He dragged the names of these great men through the mud. Washington? An adulterer. Chesterfield? A thief. Alexander the Great? A murderer. In fact, he had even confirmed the existence of Jesus Christ, only to announce that he had been a pedophile.
And the majority of the public ate up these tales. They were shocked with each one, but after all, Ragloff would not lie. Ragloff had never lied to them before…
Rainey worked, or rather, he labored, for a small company, owned by one of Ragloff’s distant cousins. Each day, he came in, and work for eight hours straight. This was no longer a matter of payment. Weekly salaries were based on one’s race, family line, and apparent loyalty to the government. The number of hours one worked was included in the process, but was secondary.
Not that Rainey was working for himself. He was working for the betterment of the world. Since his graduation from High School two years ago, he had done nothing but work. The Collection Agency was his usual location, though where he worked varied on what supplies were needed. This large building seemed to be one of the main attractions of Washington DC, now. He had heard that prior leaders had built other buildings, dedicated to evil ideals, but, thankfully, they were all destroyed. It usually consisted of a mixture of community service and good old fashioned hard labor, but he felt he was doing his part.
This particular morning, he was scheduled to help out in the moving of several hundred crates of brass items. A new law gave Ragloff the power to collect any metals he desired from the citizens of his new order. Brass, while not exactly a precious metal, was useful for making certain items of war. Besides, who needed such frivolous things as candlesticks, brass instruments, and doorknobs?
Once this cargo arrived at its destination, it would be melted down and molded to create different mechanical parts for bombs, vehicles, and other sorts of weapons. Of course, Stephen was far too dull to work on such a delicate operation. At least, that’s what his advisor had told him.
But Rainey knew he could do more. He knew that, if he put his mind to it, he would be an important part of this government that Ragloff had formed. But for now, he was just a worker…
As he moved the crates to the truck, about 50 yards away, he reflected on the past few years. Things seemed to have gotten better, actually. Sure, some rights, such as the freedoms of speech and press had to be forfeited, but compared to the anarchy of a few decades prior, this was a utopia…
Not that Stephen remembered that time. He was born a good 20 years after Ragloff took office. Ever since he was young, he could remember admiring that man. Commercials on TV proclaimed him, “The Greatest Mind of our History.” And when he first learned the full extent of Ragloff’s accomplishments, he could not help but be awe struck.
What other man could single handedly take down an evil dictatorship, while also preserving the ideals which he held in such high regard? Who else could prove such scientists as Newton, Galileo, and Einstein wrong so easily? Why was he thinking about this when he should be working? He shook himself, and focused more on the task at hand.
He was working with his good friend, Matt Shindler. Matt was a tough guy, always doing more than his fair share of the work, but not much in the way of brains. Almost like an over exaggerated version of Rainey himself. While toiling through the day, they would make casual conversation, but never talked about anything meaningful. On the other hand, it was difficult to speak of anything meaningful without being accused of treason. Ragloff’s thoughts were to be your thoughts, and anything outside of the box was unacceptable.
It was at this moment, Shindler decided to begin conversation. “So, how’d you like the ending to last night’s game?” Rainey knew which game he was speaking of. All sports had been combined into one, to increase productive time, and decrease time wasted watching each different game. “Pretty exciting. Came down to the last second…” Rainey responded, sounding both distant and bored. It was common knowledge that all results for sports nowadays were pre-determined, yet Shindler remained convinced of the “honor of the game.”
Rainey dreamt of great things, obviously. But when it came down to it, he was nothing more than a footstool with which the great make their way up the ladder. Speaking of making one’s way up a ladder, he would probably need one to hold this crate level with Shindler. The man was enormous, easily 6’2’’, compared to Rainey’s 5’9’’. He held the crate up, and steadied it. “Hey, you alright there, Stephen?” Inquired Shindler. “Yeah, Matt, I’m good. Just slow it up a little? My back’s killing me today…”
Suddenly, there came an enormous bang, from behind Rainey. He dropped the crate, and spun around. In the midst of the chaos, he saw the Collection Agency go up in a puff of smoke, and fire dominating the landscape…
Chapter 2
Rainey could not believe his eyes. Even during all those times when he wondered if there was, indeed, a resistance, he had never truly considered the thought a reality.
Perhaps it was not an act of terror at all. Perhaps there had been a gas leak, and some fool had been smoking. Perhaps…but probably not…
His fears of an uprising were confirmed by Ragloff himself, who made the announcement personally. Apparently, this had been a conspiracy against the government, and the perpetrators had already been captured, and executed…
Talk continued for a good week. Some believed that perhaps the group was a sort of cult, dead set against their great country. Others still were under the impression that all conspirators had been dealt with.
Rainey…well, he just continued hauling crates. It was his job to work, not to think. He and Shindler were perfectly content to let others speculate for them. Besides, no need to draw attention to oneself. Especially after almost being killed in a terror attack.
In fact, Shindler was still pretty shaken up over it. He continually looked over his shoulder, and tended to look around corners before turning them.
“So, Stephen…pretty freaky that it’d happen to us, right?” Matt questioned, scanning the area. “A bit, I suppose, but it happens. I’m more interested in what caused it…” Rainy responded. Why would someone want to dismantle this government? He pondered, Could someone dislike Ragloff? Is it possible?
While Rainey enjoyed hanging around Shindler, he knew that he could never have discussions at length with him. Shindler was, at heart, a loyal citizen. But that’s all he was. His only use to the government was performing manual labor. Meanwhile, Rainey dreamt of more. Of increasing his usefulness to the aforementioned government, by increasing his IQ, and basic understanding of such affairs.
Actually, he had applied for a position in the government’s hierarchy a few months ago. He had received a very nice letter of rejection. Sort of like, ‘Sorry you couldn’t cut it, but you suck at this…’ Rainey sighed. He didn’t want to spend the remainder of his pathetic life wasting away at collection agency after collection agency. Even the most loyal have dreams…
He gazed around the workplace. All of these people, here for one reason or another. John Gadloe, criminal record. Mike Crotzky, too short to be a leader. Matt Shindler, too stupid. And he? He wasn’t too anything…other than average.
Average. An intermediate level of a certain quantity, or something to that effect. It would be impossible to look it up in a dictionary, considering they were basically wiped off the face of the Earth. Words no longer had strict meanings. They were whatever Ragloff said they were. Alterable.
When it comes down to it, what isn’t alterable? History belongs to the winner. Religion is always questioned. Love is not always faithful. Nearly every major establishment or emotion goes through some sort of scandal at some point. The only difference is the cause of said scandal. You want truth? The people do not even know the definition anymore…
Rainey spent the remainder of his day in a fog, over thinking everything, and ignoring his work. He was still doing his duty, by helping out, but his heart wasn’t in it. He had never understood why he thought these thoughts. Nor did he ever find the answers that he was looking for. However, somehow, he felt, it was the question that he truly desired, not the answer…
After work, Rainey went straight home. It was a rather long trip, considering all public transportation had been taken down, except for politicians. Yes, Ragloff had done what no other leader did. He eliminated airborne fuel from vehicles. Not that it was for the good of the public, it simply meant less traffic…
He looked around at the blank faces passing him. Each one of them both devoted to their country, yet exhausted and begging for a break. These two vendettas clashed, in that one must work as hard as he or she can for the betterment of their nation. Most of them were ready to give everything they had, but recent events pointed out that there were minorities who would fight this cause, tooth and nail…
He finally reached his home. In essence, a small room. Every commoner lived in a home such as this. It was a waste of space, argued Ragloff, for someone to have more than the bare necessities. He thought of eating something, but he was too tired this particular day. He plopped down on his sleeping mat, and slept.
He happened to dream. He dreamt of a world without Ragloff. It was pure hell. Anarchy everywhere, people dying, bodies lying on the street with no burial. Prostitutes running wild, murderers killing at will, thieves taking what they wished. Heaven was burning. Demons were rising. It was all horrible…
He awoke in a cold sweat. Thank god for Ragloff…
Prologue
Every country eventually runs its course. Like water in a stream, constant changes occur, until said stream dries up…
Just as the ever-present simile of the stream delivers water to larger, more important, oceans; thus had our society empowered others over the generations.
…Perhaps, even, to a fault…
The year is 12,032. Actually, from our former point of view, it is only 2032. It was decided, with the Treaty of London, that our “outdated” BC-AD scale had to be modified. Thus, the time before the year 1 was compensated for…with 10,000 extra years. Hard to comprehend? You don’t know the half of it.
Enter the Free Trade Agreement of 2013. That is, 12,013. To save time, the years will be referred to in the outdated system from now on.
You may remember previous Free Trade Agreements. Do not use these as examples to help you picture this upcoming law. It is radically different.
To understand it, one must fully comprehend the changing times. There had been full scale war between the United States and Russia. Russia, fighting to protect its vast expanse of land, wished to convince other nations to join in their cause.
However, the United States, being the “Ruler of the Free World,” supplies most nations with their necessities via trade. If a country were to aid Russia, they would impose Tariffs on said country…if not bar them from exporting and importing their goods altogether.
Thus, Russia continued on, attempting to halt the monopolization of the oil-mongering United States. As long as America controlled trade, they controlled everything.
The objective, then, is to take this control away.
But how?
Russian Foreign Affairs Advisor, Niklas Shcotz, stumbled upon the answer. He realized that, to break the stalemate, Russia needed to level the playing field, giving themselves equal control.
…Giving everyone equal control…
Thus, the Free Trade Agreement of 2013 was presented before the United Nations. The idea was that, no matter how small the country, they could be supplied. It eliminated Tariffs, but that was the least of its effects.
This agreement did not give a nation the right to trade. It forced them to trade. Stronger, stable nations, such as America, were forced to give discounts, and even handouts, to weaker nations.
The resulting flurry of transactions was such that it astonished even the most learned experts. Russia was able to gather its own alliance, and fight off the invading US. And, for about a decade, there was the illusion of peace. Each country kept to themselves, for the most part. Genocide still occurred in third world countries, but no one thought about that. Keeping the illusion was far more important.
During the ensuing decade, many different groups took advantage of this cease-fire. With the driving force of world authority, the United States, out of the equation, it was the picture perfect time to plan opposition. After all, weapons were included in the discount. Small countries were buying such weapons at a startling rate, but, by the time anyone had thought to modify the agreement, enough damage had been done.
Terrorism is not effective if it happens in times of war. During those periods, such actions are expected, and ten times harder to pull off. However, breaking the peace is a simple matter. And, when one breaks the peace, fear takes control.
This is how the United States, and several other countries, fell. A terrorist cell, calling themselves the Disciples of Justice, staged numerous attacks of the guiding powers of the world. The buildings and landmarks known and cherished by many, fell. The Empire State Building, Parliament, the Eiffel Tower, Saint Petersburg. The group attacked indiscriminately, seeming to have no loyalties of any kind.
Rebellions began. People were scared of this group, and tired of the government’s seemingly inability to put an end to the attacks. One by one, the nations fell, until nothing but a confused anarchy remained of the Earth. The people needed a leader. One they could trust. And who better to trust than one who has been able to do all he wished for the past several decades? The leader they chose...the man who had led the Disciples of Justice…was named Juliann Ragloff.
Thus, the tale begins, in this time period. In the middle of a dictatorship brought about by terrorism, and fueled by fear. There have been rumors of an uprising, but these are in stark contrast with the general public, who prefer to stay on the good side of the iron fisted Ragloff. Around the world, nowhere is worse off than what had previously been Washington, DC. And this is where our tale truly begins…
Chapter 1
If there was one person who would vouch for Ragloff through thick and thin, it was Stephen Rainey. Each day, as the announcements were heard over the television of the new accomplishments of Ragloff and his party, he devoured every word of it. His discussions seemed to revolve around these ideals, and never before had someone been so adept at remembering each bit of information about a person. In fact, his penchant for Ragloff bordered on obsession.
This was not, of course, entirely his fault. Since his induction as leader, one of Ragloff’s primary focuses had been propaganda. Namely, others were wrong, he is right. One would think he would attempt to erase history of previous leaders. What he did was far more sinister.
He dragged the names of these great men through the mud. Washington? An adulterer. Chesterfield? A thief. Alexander the Great? A murderer. In fact, he had even confirmed the existence of Jesus Christ, only to announce that he had been a pedophile.
And the majority of the public ate up these tales. They were shocked with each one, but after all, Ragloff would not lie. Ragloff had never lied to them before…
Rainey worked, or rather, he labored, for a small company, owned by one of Ragloff’s distant cousins. Each day, he came in, and work for eight hours straight. This was no longer a matter of payment. Weekly salaries were based on one’s race, family line, and apparent loyalty to the government. The number of hours one worked was included in the process, but was secondary.
Not that Rainey was working for himself. He was working for the betterment of the world. Since his graduation from High School two years ago, he had done nothing but work. The Collection Agency was his usual location, though where he worked varied on what supplies were needed. This large building seemed to be one of the main attractions of Washington DC, now. He had heard that prior leaders had built other buildings, dedicated to evil ideals, but, thankfully, they were all destroyed. It usually consisted of a mixture of community service and good old fashioned hard labor, but he felt he was doing his part.
This particular morning, he was scheduled to help out in the moving of several hundred crates of brass items. A new law gave Ragloff the power to collect any metals he desired from the citizens of his new order. Brass, while not exactly a precious metal, was useful for making certain items of war. Besides, who needed such frivolous things as candlesticks, brass instruments, and doorknobs?
Once this cargo arrived at its destination, it would be melted down and molded to create different mechanical parts for bombs, vehicles, and other sorts of weapons. Of course, Stephen was far too dull to work on such a delicate operation. At least, that’s what his advisor had told him.
But Rainey knew he could do more. He knew that, if he put his mind to it, he would be an important part of this government that Ragloff had formed. But for now, he was just a worker…
As he moved the crates to the truck, about 50 yards away, he reflected on the past few years. Things seemed to have gotten better, actually. Sure, some rights, such as the freedoms of speech and press had to be forfeited, but compared to the anarchy of a few decades prior, this was a utopia…
Not that Stephen remembered that time. He was born a good 20 years after Ragloff took office. Ever since he was young, he could remember admiring that man. Commercials on TV proclaimed him, “The Greatest Mind of our History.” And when he first learned the full extent of Ragloff’s accomplishments, he could not help but be awe struck.
What other man could single handedly take down an evil dictatorship, while also preserving the ideals which he held in such high regard? Who else could prove such scientists as Newton, Galileo, and Einstein wrong so easily? Why was he thinking about this when he should be working? He shook himself, and focused more on the task at hand.
He was working with his good friend, Matt Shindler. Matt was a tough guy, always doing more than his fair share of the work, but not much in the way of brains. Almost like an over exaggerated version of Rainey himself. While toiling through the day, they would make casual conversation, but never talked about anything meaningful. On the other hand, it was difficult to speak of anything meaningful without being accused of treason. Ragloff’s thoughts were to be your thoughts, and anything outside of the box was unacceptable.
It was at this moment, Shindler decided to begin conversation. “So, how’d you like the ending to last night’s game?” Rainey knew which game he was speaking of. All sports had been combined into one, to increase productive time, and decrease time wasted watching each different game. “Pretty exciting. Came down to the last second…” Rainey responded, sounding both distant and bored. It was common knowledge that all results for sports nowadays were pre-determined, yet Shindler remained convinced of the “honor of the game.”
Rainey dreamt of great things, obviously. But when it came down to it, he was nothing more than a footstool with which the great make their way up the ladder. Speaking of making one’s way up a ladder, he would probably need one to hold this crate level with Shindler. The man was enormous, easily 6’2’’, compared to Rainey’s 5’9’’. He held the crate up, and steadied it. “Hey, you alright there, Stephen?” Inquired Shindler. “Yeah, Matt, I’m good. Just slow it up a little? My back’s killing me today…”
Suddenly, there came an enormous bang, from behind Rainey. He dropped the crate, and spun around. In the midst of the chaos, he saw the Collection Agency go up in a puff of smoke, and fire dominating the landscape…
Chapter 2
Rainey could not believe his eyes. Even during all those times when he wondered if there was, indeed, a resistance, he had never truly considered the thought a reality.
Perhaps it was not an act of terror at all. Perhaps there had been a gas leak, and some fool had been smoking. Perhaps…but probably not…
His fears of an uprising were confirmed by Ragloff himself, who made the announcement personally. Apparently, this had been a conspiracy against the government, and the perpetrators had already been captured, and executed…
Talk continued for a good week. Some believed that perhaps the group was a sort of cult, dead set against their great country. Others still were under the impression that all conspirators had been dealt with.
Rainey…well, he just continued hauling crates. It was his job to work, not to think. He and Shindler were perfectly content to let others speculate for them. Besides, no need to draw attention to oneself. Especially after almost being killed in a terror attack.
In fact, Shindler was still pretty shaken up over it. He continually looked over his shoulder, and tended to look around corners before turning them.
“So, Stephen…pretty freaky that it’d happen to us, right?” Matt questioned, scanning the area. “A bit, I suppose, but it happens. I’m more interested in what caused it…” Rainy responded. Why would someone want to dismantle this government? He pondered, Could someone dislike Ragloff? Is it possible?
While Rainey enjoyed hanging around Shindler, he knew that he could never have discussions at length with him. Shindler was, at heart, a loyal citizen. But that’s all he was. His only use to the government was performing manual labor. Meanwhile, Rainey dreamt of more. Of increasing his usefulness to the aforementioned government, by increasing his IQ, and basic understanding of such affairs.
Actually, he had applied for a position in the government’s hierarchy a few months ago. He had received a very nice letter of rejection. Sort of like, ‘Sorry you couldn’t cut it, but you suck at this…’ Rainey sighed. He didn’t want to spend the remainder of his pathetic life wasting away at collection agency after collection agency. Even the most loyal have dreams…
He gazed around the workplace. All of these people, here for one reason or another. John Gadloe, criminal record. Mike Crotzky, too short to be a leader. Matt Shindler, too stupid. And he? He wasn’t too anything…other than average.
Average. An intermediate level of a certain quantity, or something to that effect. It would be impossible to look it up in a dictionary, considering they were basically wiped off the face of the Earth. Words no longer had strict meanings. They were whatever Ragloff said they were. Alterable.
When it comes down to it, what isn’t alterable? History belongs to the winner. Religion is always questioned. Love is not always faithful. Nearly every major establishment or emotion goes through some sort of scandal at some point. The only difference is the cause of said scandal. You want truth? The people do not even know the definition anymore…
Rainey spent the remainder of his day in a fog, over thinking everything, and ignoring his work. He was still doing his duty, by helping out, but his heart wasn’t in it. He had never understood why he thought these thoughts. Nor did he ever find the answers that he was looking for. However, somehow, he felt, it was the question that he truly desired, not the answer…
After work, Rainey went straight home. It was a rather long trip, considering all public transportation had been taken down, except for politicians. Yes, Ragloff had done what no other leader did. He eliminated airborne fuel from vehicles. Not that it was for the good of the public, it simply meant less traffic…
He looked around at the blank faces passing him. Each one of them both devoted to their country, yet exhausted and begging for a break. These two vendettas clashed, in that one must work as hard as he or she can for the betterment of their nation. Most of them were ready to give everything they had, but recent events pointed out that there were minorities who would fight this cause, tooth and nail…
He finally reached his home. In essence, a small room. Every commoner lived in a home such as this. It was a waste of space, argued Ragloff, for someone to have more than the bare necessities. He thought of eating something, but he was too tired this particular day. He plopped down on his sleeping mat, and slept.
He happened to dream. He dreamt of a world without Ragloff. It was pure hell. Anarchy everywhere, people dying, bodies lying on the street with no burial. Prostitutes running wild, murderers killing at will, thieves taking what they wished. Heaven was burning. Demons were rising. It was all horrible…
He awoke in a cold sweat. Thank god for Ragloff…
