Dateline: Dallas, TX, the year 2028
The long-abandoned bank vault was tense with silence. The last twelve survivors of their cell huddled in the dark quiet as the drone proximity alert flashed ominously in the musty dampness. Were it not for this vault they would have been taken out by now as well; the drones had almost caught all of them at one time or another. The three foot thick concrete and two foot thick steel vault door were the only things they had thus far found that could defeat the radar probes of the drones, so here they huddled; scared, hungry and determined not be prisoners.
They had watched in horror as their friends and family were carted off to the FEMA camps under the guise of job availability. After the food riots had destroyed most of the inner cities, people were all too willing to let the government come and save them from starvation. It wasn’t long before stories started to leak out as to what was really happening in the camps. Forced breeding programs for the desirable Aryan women, forced sterilization or extermination for all others was the true order of the day. Constant surveillance and computer chip implants allowed for total control within the walls. Those who refused the chips were executed on the spot, those who accepted it immediately envied the former. The stories and still photos of the Mengelian vivisection experiments published on the P(irate)net by the physician who had defected were enough to turn the stomachs of the most hardened among them.
The defunct air ventilation system in the vault had been rigged with near silent computer fans to allow them fresh air but with the drone alert flashing, even those had been shut off. The drones had been in the area for over an hour now and it was becoming stale and stifling inside. None of them had had access to laundry or showers for longer than they could remember so the air was redolent with the acrid body odor of the terror-stricken.
When the alert mercifully stopped flashing Bobby3 collapsed gasping onto the dirty floor. The drones had never lingered this long and it was his turn to power the detector. None of them had ever had to maintain power for this long and it was then decided that from now on during alerts, the duty would be shared by two. Maintaining power to the detector was too important to allow it to fail. The clouds had rendered their solar cells useless for almost two weeks now, so self-power was the only means available to them. The chakric energy transfers were very draining and had to be used with caution lest they lose another ill-afforded link in their chain. As the fans kicked back on, they sat Bobby3 in front of the fan bank and helped him eat the last of their meager food; half of a stale granola bar.
As Bobby1 surveyed the scene, he extinguished the lone candle they had been using for light while the drone raid was raging above them. One of the girls will have to go out and make contact today or they won’t have to worry about being captured anymore, as starvation will take them out first. Since none of them were over 16 and clearly without chaperones, they had to wear flesh-colored latex applications that contained cloned chips of actual citizens since an unchipped minor unattended is a sure trip to camp. Even with the chip, the mission is quite treacherous; requiring lone travel to beyond the city where the omninet had been taken down by renegades. It was only in these ‘blank spots’ that it was safe to transmit encrypted messages to the other outlying resistance cells that helped them with food and weapons when they were able. Those occasions had become fewer and further between in recent months.
The consternation on Bobby1’s face was enough to convey the gravity of the situation to the others. He was always the one making light of every situation, so if he was grave then the situation was dire. “I’ll go…” said Mary5 “I’m the most familiar with the route.”
“Ok, but take 3 with you, she needs to learn the tunnels better” said Bobby1. None of them knew the others’ true names; it was the only way to avoid being forced to identify their companions under the effects of the drugs and torture that the Omnireich had perfected over the years. No one remembered why the names Bobby and Mary were chosen, but it had been so since the Third Gathering. “No, fuck that, we’re all going. We’ll head out in three units, four apiece. PACK IT UP PEOPLE!! Time to bounce; this place is hot, I can feel it. The drones were here too long and I think we all feel what’s going on. LET’S MOVE!”
His edict was met with murmurs of general agreement tinted with dread and the hurried shuffling of feet. When the last backpack was filled, they padded up; the familiar rip of Velcro echoing through the vault. After all were geared up to 1’s approval they joined hands in prayer and to equalize energy fields. “Father, we pray that it be Thy will that our mission is successful. May Jah Protect and Guide us all. Rastafari!”
“Selassie I!” came the solemn response and they moved out in silence; the only sound, that of their wheels on the old marble basement hallways of the bank as they made their way to the opening in the storm sewer that had been blasted by others long ago; most likely in a robbery attempt before the Omnicredit replaced all currency and possession of gold and silver became punishable by death. When Omnicorp first made the announcement, suddenly everyone could read the writing on the wall that had been staring them in the face for some time. The Mark of the Beast is real and it’s here; pick a side. Those who had more than $500,000 before the conversion were allowed to purchase full citizenship in Omnicorp; those with less were left with nothing but useless paper or worse, meaningless blips of information that no longer existed. Of course, full citizenship required being chipped, but at this point it was viewed as a status symbol among the blinded and terrified populace
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