2012 EPILOGUE 2c

The next time I awoke, it was a much more brightly lit room. I felt the pillows under my back which propped me partially upright. My head rested upon the back of the divan which was long enough to hold the length of my body. And there seemed to be a lot of noise. Mostly from across the room, which seemed to span twenty yards or more. And it was cold; I mean compared to the eighty degree morning I started the day with. The din seemed to reverberate off the walls encasing us, and then I noticed. The walls were of rock or stone, and appeared to be held together by dirt. Rows of fluorescents lined the ceiling and the brightness hurt my eyes for the moment.

A different pitch and tone was more clearly discerned nearer me though, and I rotated my head enough to see a handful of boys, peering around each other’s shoulders, their eyes wide. They whispered to each other in an excited, almost anticipatory state. Then they pushed one of the boys closer to me, nudging him with hands and nodding assertively, that he was the one. Fear and excitement raced across the young boy’s face, and as he fought for words, his body shirred up as if the right thread was being gathered to do so. Now within a yard of my limp and laying body, his hands folded together, slightly reaching forward, he spoke. “Can you make your eyes pop out like you did with Greely & Todd…can you really do that?” Gasps and giggles rose from the group of boys, as the certainty in their eyes was rewarded with their friends questioning. So now they all stood, almost on tip toes to see around the others, awaiting my response. Near motionless, not even a breath could be heard, as they held them waiting to see the spectacle they were in such great anticipation of.

But I was not fully cognitive, my mind gathering up the words being spread across the expanse by the forty or more people I saw grouped there. They were less than ten yards from me, but so few words were discernible. Is that him? A shorter girl asked, her hair golden and braided, draping over her undeveloped shoulders.

How did he get here? A slightly older girl asked, her patchwork A-line dress hanging down near the ankles of feet which seemed soiled with dust and dirt, rising up to her calves. At least twenty-five men were more tightly grouped, there ages appeared from older teens towards my age, perhaps even older than sixty. But I could not hear a word they spoke between themselves. A dozen or more women bordered around them, their ages evenly spaced as well, and encompassing three generations was my best guess. With each blink of my eyes my focus improved, and soon I could hear five or six of the adults speaking to the others. Assuring them everything is alright and that they are still safe.

I wanted to speak to them but my mouth was so dry I could barely get air to pass through it to breathe. ‘Water…’ was all that emerged for the moment, and as I craned and cocked my head for a better position, the boys leapt back a few feet, drawing attention from the group across the room. I recognized no one in particular, especially attempting the two who brought me here…Todd and Greely. But no. Not a single face appeared familiar, and then there were ten faces about me. Each appeared interested and just as one would ready themselves to ask something, another would start simultaneously. This hic-up of dialogue did not generate many words, and quickly the eldest of the group stepped forward.

“I’m Jake Steadman” the man stated, retrieving a glass of water from one of the women, and presenting it to me. My hand easily rose to greet the glass, but my fingers were not able to grasp it. An younger woman, perhaps Jake’s daughter, came to sit beside me and guide the glass to my lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Debauchery, Demise, and the Downfall of America (pg. 6)

The downfall of America was solidified in 1961 through the Brookings Report, which was merely a rewrite of Harry Truman’s (Majestic) M J 12 of 1947, where he proclaims that extraterrestrials could not be fathomed by the populace at large. And using as a basis for the hypothesis, the 1938 radio broadcast of War of the Worlds, ‘we should never disclose that we are the offspring of galactic travelers’.

Instead, allow the populaces to discern for themselves the stories of Satan (service to self), and the Antichrist; and the benevolence of service to others (Jesus Christ, Buddha or Joseph Smith), without disclosing that the galactic battle over those very ideals has waged for millions of years. Our downfall is great, even unto usurping progress through commerce. And ignoring the many technological enterprises bestowed to those who could generate their completion. All at the very times we needed them.

A man more powerful than the President over a hundred years ago, JP Morgan, countered the movements of Tesla when he learned that the enterprise would be distributed throughout the world for free. Free electricity. Free communications. Free transportation.

Life is a morphological transition…evolving through each new generation to extend the boundaries of an already strained, elastic, and plastic existence.

Each current generation of authority creating and enforcing their coercions, while each newer generation develops their own methods of subversion. Until eventually, they all accept their place at the head of the hierarchy, realizing the plan, they can neither amend nor extinguish.

A sad lot for the billion or so souls who accept the fate of the cycle, and an even sadder lot for the six billion oblivious to its impending impact. Only caught in the illusion of independence and individualism through the marketing efforts of those wishing to remain in control.

The mark of the beast is now proudly worn by all who covet the hedonistic and self-satisfying life-styles they’ve been led into. They work it day to day, or week to week, for the pleasure of brandishing the image. But few of them could stand on their own for even a month, were their liquidity to dry up. The masses slowly moved from religion to the all-mighty dollar, and then to the icon which distorts it the most.

 

 

 

 

 

Debauchery, Demise, and the Downfall of America (pg.4)

Yes, I thought the demise would come much sooner. Caught in a wiretapping ruse to gain and manipulate leverageable advantages over his rivals, Nixon bowed out, his victory signs, all but forgotten. Ford had been the fool on the hill, so to speak, but Carter received no global recognition as a leader either, and it took Reagan to reset the stage. His now knowing and understanding the ensuing catastrophes about to beseech us, he created the ‘trickle-down’ economic system which could have allowed employers and mega corporations, to increase wages and benefits so everyone prospered equally. But the profits were too great to be shared with anyone not in the loop, and citizens became even more indentured into their way of life.

Neither G Herbert nor his son, GW Bush could convince anyone to hop aboard the NWO wagon, just like Dole couldn’t convince anyone that climate change is real and inevitable, but both families carried on with their gibberish anyway. The Clinton’s and the Obama’s had never known the luxuries wealth presented, but by the end of their terms, had become mega millionaires themselves. Their safety securely ensured by their silence throughout the years. So Trump became the king of the hour as he declared this is how it is, deal with it. Easier words could have been spoken, certainly more eloquently by Obama, but Trump never said he was a polished politician. He followed his directions and closed the borders George W had opened through NAFTA. He then closed the banks and assured anyone who desired refuge, as a citizen, could, and should, work for him…the government. The government procurement program became the new destiny for all those who had survived the scorching solar flares which ripped across nearly a third of the world. An equal amount upturned through earthquakes, and the skies above the Pacific, from the Island’s east to Guatemala, were filled with sulfuric ash clouds. And the threat of viral outbreaks remained, separating those who would otherwise desire the companionship of community.

Yet the demise was so blatant…so direct, as to its preposterousness, citizen’s rallied an outcry for transparency; all the while clinging to their technologies and entertainment. Their deviances, along with their misplaced hopes.

And for hundreds of days the king put on his performances, until those healthy and strong enough, in one uniform or another, marched in and demonstrated resolve. Each non-passive act and movement was considered a threat to the king and dealt with instantly. Thus the downfall.

Pockets of resistance, large and small, were eliminated as radically and expeditiously as possible. Not one person could survive, lest they influence another. Even those peaceably accepting the new order, with their incarcerations numbering 250,000 per Walmart mega-stores, were gassed. Finally America was consumed by the downfall, as Detroit, Chicago, Atlanta, Houston, and Las Vegas were nuked. Sunlight was nowhere to be found in the Midwest states, and the alienation of knowing your existence is considered inconsequential, completes the saga of every man for himself.

Everyone in The GPP were provided tasks, and depending on the results, their significance for another day was merited. The downfall blanketed the nation, as those protected by it, coveted its existence. While those persecuted by it, hid without hope of being above ground, ever again.

 

2012 EPILOGUE 2b

“I’ve seen the lights go out on Broadway” clearly resounded in my ears, even though there wasn’t a tune playing anywhere. My mind, for a second it seemed, thought of my daughter in what used to be Lake Forest CA. She liked Billy Joel. Had six or seven of his albums, and I was wondering if this was the song playing when she fell into the ocean? But it was what was playing in my head as it exploded from the butt of a rifle, and I watched the lights go out on Broadway…all the way into unconsciousness.

My head was throbbing and there was an extra level of tinnitus in the left ear. Between the higher pitched shrill and the roar of the throb, they seemed to complement each other, like the ocean waves reaching in and then back out again. But this was no serenade, it was agony along with pain, mixing it up like MMA fighters grappling for the take down hold. My eyes still couldn’t focus as they seemed a bit teary, and it was dark here. Where ever here is, it was a dark place.

The floor was cool and felt like concrete under my laid out body. I tried rolling my body to either side, but was pretty certain it didn’t move. However, the pain in my head swayed from side to side, splashing itself across my skull from temple to temple. Tears swelled up in my eyes once again, yet the darkness felt softer than I had remembered before.

The next time I saw light, it was shining into my eyes, back and forth, one at a time. I tried to see beyond the light but only blurred outlines and shadows were faintly visible. The audio started to phase back to me, and I could hear one say to the other with the light, “damnit Todd, I told you, you hit him too hard. Now we got a cripple or a dying man. What could be worse?” And as the words washed over me I realized I could not move any part of my body. I could not even feel most of it. Was I feeling this? I exhaled heavily from my nostrils to sense the breeze past my face and flow down my chest. I thought I was moving my eyebrows and gaining directional control of my eyes, but nothing completely in focus yet. But my toes were not there. Or my feet or my ankles. Nor my knees or my thighs. I did know I felt my head and my tailbone, and the tingling numbness which flows through a sleeping limb session. But the numbness only rolled around my hips and faded away down my tailbone. Nothing below my tailbone was evident to sense, front or back, and for a sad moment, I felt like less than half a man. My eyes closed and the loss overwhelmed me, and I began rocking my head forward, or up and down, never sensing any movement. I furrowed my brow and opened my eyes as wide as I could force them…”holy shit Todd, you see that guy?!”

 

 

Debauchery, Demise, and the Downfall of America (pg.3)

Demise will be considered too extravagant a word for America. Too euphemistic, as it implies America was once great, or that we intended to transfer our control to another. Neither are truly correct. Yes, the steel boom found everyone in manufacturing desirous of US made steel, and the opportunity to come here and build and produce implied wealth and greatness. But the Twenties quickly crashed in ’29, and it would be another decade before citizens could quit eating from one dumpster while the warmth of a fire burned in another. What was still working, was also watching Europe burned and bombed, and in 1941 when we were attacked, America found growth again. The growth did not stop, even if it stumbled a bit in the eighties. But I would have thought the racial unrest of the sixties and seventies would have declared itself our ruin as equality is so loosely splayed, yet merely a garnishment above the hallows of other, sacred texts of lessor words.

Global realignment came that decade, the eighties, as Reagan had to bring Gorbachev into the loop, lest he nuke everybody too soon. Yet little was spoken about their jokes on and off camera, regarding their true lack of control. Reagan more than alluding, declaring it might take an alien invasion to make us united. He was so wrong, it did not unite us at all.

But greed has always been a determining factor when discerning between prosperity and power, so the greedy began to amass greater power. We raced through the 90’s with the dot.com bubble, and although communication was now available globally, and in real time, we were even less connected. All while nationalism became the cry again as the towers fell in New York. All while China was endorsed into the World Trade Organization, and the infection of inferior products flowed through the veins of consumers everywhere.

Downfalls are rarely planned, but when they are, they are easy to read. The establishment of a standard wage. The low line level of poverty, to median, and onto upper class. Well defined in 1970 when barely two hundred million citizens became the network to keep the machine running. But now with more than a third greater population, and with large industry gone abroad, unemployment hovered at twenty percent and inflation between three and a half, to four percent, year after year through the new century. And instead of prosperity, people tightened their belts and lowered their expectations.

So low that they watched as political figures mocked democracy, and proclaimed the New World Order right up from under their feet. Once downsizing became associated with consumer revenues, millions more joined the ranks of the unemployed. And as welfare programs are funded through taxation, which had been downsizing itself for more than fifteen years, fewer recipients found relief or subsidies. Until finally, they all ceased to exist, and the only sure way to a meal was to join the government procurement program. This was neither a skilled nor analytical position, as it merely required the naming of a dissident to the NWO, to secure your place to sleep and a daily meal, which many stored up to eat throughout the day and evening.

So low that they lived and scurried like rats between alleys and sewers, and when necessary, only came into the light in search of food and water. Lest they become the tens of millions housed in Walmart mega-centers, awaiting genocide.

 

 

Debauchery, Demise, and the Downfall of America (pg.2)

It is not enough to say that the illusion of independence and individuality were both devised and perpetuated upon the masses to ensure a cohesive bonding within a national boundary. It is better to say that it is the link which secures and fastens us to the illusion that it is for our betterment. And that nationalism further instills pride and association, even as it limits individuality. Therefore, independence and individuality are but the illusions that we have some sort of control over our lives.

And too many were becoming aware. Too many could read the signs and determine their eventualities; while glamour once more returned to the White House. 1981 was somber as our hostage crisis ended, but by ’83, Reagan had signed the EO that forbade anyone with the wherewithal to these eventualities, to speak of them publicly under threat of incarceration for life. Needless to say hundreds more learned of the impending cataclysmic events which would soon be upon us, and were killed off in numerous unassuming accidents. Obama fearing for his life created the EO granting the President the authority to affect Marshall Law without intervention of Congress. And in 2017, 200 entertainers were eliminated from the lists of potential future survivors. These numbers are insignificant when compared to the usual hundred thousand citizens reported missing each year, which has swollen to over one million these last half dozen.

Countries had been folding throughout the decade. First Greece, then Venezuela.

Support for many of these countries were in vain and eventually discontinued like Belarus where we invested billions into a resurgence of tourism, while retooling their airlines. And Argentina since the late 80’s, only to have them fully collapse in 2014. Likewise, Belize and Jamaica succumbed to a lack of exports and fell that year too. The Ukraine is holding out, but even Russia wants nothing more to do with them. Brazil and Great Britain have been existing on handouts this decade as well, but the most ridiculous is America doubling their debt to over 21 trillion dollars these past two decades. Thus, the demise.

There is a loop that many of these governmental heads have been brought into. Once in, coercion decrees what actions will be taken, along with where and when. It is a smoky glass reflection that even they do not understand, but they know living is better than dying. And for everyone else, there to be sacrificed. Presentations are made, planning to be foretold, and the illusion continues to mask the changes to the masses. That is, until the dollar falls as the standard for global currency. Which is exactly what happened next. European banks and creditors wanted solvency and extracted payments. China, Japan, and Korea discontinued exporting, as did the Scandinavian countries. Threats came upon the US from both Mexico and Canada, as not only did capital cease to exist, but soon so did products. Rioting, looting, and many more despicable acts were carried out over the next years. Without electricity and the invisible web, communications eventually halted as well. There were round-ups and battles and slaughters, and anyone still left alive wasn’t really sure of it. And that was just in America.

 

Part Two; the Debauchery, Demise, and the Downfall of America

No one really knows when the fate of the world was decided, even though they have several theories of by whom. But it was, and whether by some alien supremacy or global oligarchy, it has been controlled and maneuvered throughout several centuries. The most evident and ridiculous has been the 20^th and 21^st centuries.

My time here is recent and short, and I only have the referencing to historical events through those who have directed what it is that will be told. Therefore historical events are glamorous and colorful depicting the different countries and their acquisitions along with naming eras as to their time in reign. And our growth to mobilization has appeared ridiculously stalled as well, with Germany dominating trade routes during the 14^th century and Portugal most everywhere else during the 15^th. China too controlled their seas during that century, and the race to Imperialism expanded rapidly involving the other European powers.

Certainly the controlling has not been too overbearing as to have everyone question it on the same day. Nor has it been to any exceedingly great benefit to the global inhabitants, except to those who are in control. They allowed us to struggle with Iron for thousands of years until Joan of Arc protected the gates of Paris. And it would be three hundred more years before we could turn that iron into steel. Electricity is free and natural, existing in all the space around us, yet instead of providing devices and equipment to convert it to light and heat, they convince us it’s better to have it brought to us for a price. Equally ridiculous is the automobile industry which spurred and maintained the need for refined oil and gasolines. All the time knowing, that with the correct ionization in the atmosphere, we could transport ourselves on plates or in ships at any speed moving in any direction.

But that would make everyone too equal, which is what the 20^th century was all about. Science prophetically declared we are all the same to within a tenth of a percent, and the explosion into individuality sprang forth.

Individuality in itself is not a bad thing, but when fostered by Liberalism, adds to the chaos and confusion as to who we are and who we are supposed to be. I think it affected the Kennedy’s of Massachusetts, and although Joseph did little to prepare his boys, other than education and financial backing, the sixties brought a bleak reality into perspective. One would become President, and appoint the other Attorney General, yet both would die because they felt it more important to tell us who’s really running the show. Perhaps even more important, what the show really was. Once out of the way, simpleton’s and bigots reigned through the office for many more years. Each of them performing their duties and playing their parts according to the directions which were provided. And as each of them found, was commanded.

Debauchery is not a new notion. We are, and always have been, a greedy and lustful animal. But through money, fame, power and position, we can exploit and maximize the excessive abuse to our sensations, be they emotional, psychological, or physical. Thus, the demise.

 

2012 EPILOGUE 1b

The sliver of moon which had hovered overhead for most of the night continued its path towards the western hillsides, and evaporated into a sea of blue as the sun peaked from the east. The near treacherous trek which spanned close to ten hours was at its end, and the soft bed of sand was now replaced by the asphalts sturdy sure footedness. But I nonetheless felt an uneasiness as I peered intensely into every undraped window, and the uneasiness grew as nothing revealed itself. Not even a sound. Not a bird, nor dog, nor outside lights and lamps lit. Every building appearing as vacant as a showroom ready to be dressed. Two blocks in, I spied a drug store café a couple of blocks to the west. I know my first thought was to raid it, but with each step in its direction, every other thought I’d had throughout the night came flooding back in.

I found myself missing my family and friends. Wondering if they’d found shelter anywhere. Wondering if they were still alive. Not my California family, they were surely gone. As inland as 130 miles to the Sultan Sea and angling north from Palm Springs to Sacramento, a hundred mile wide, hundreds of miles long, strip of California no longer existed. But the ocean had no shoreline or beaches, instead only ripped and jutted mud banks resembling the Cliffs of Dover. The sky to the north had been darkening for days. A clear indication that Yellowstone finally erupted, and I wondered how long it will take to reach this far south. I wondered if there was anyone left in the Midwest at all. I wondered which of the fifteen contingency plans the government prepared was in effect. I knew all the catastrophes which were considered, and general consensus of which was most likely to manifest itself. But I don’t think anyone conceived we’d have near a dozen of them simultaneously. I even laughed at myself for thinking I could make a difference. All the warnings I spread. The people I begged to get to higher elevations. And for what. Not even the Jardines De La Paz could have prepared for the Andean civilization to crumble into the Ocean below. What was I thinking, there is no safe place.

The planks creaked under my footsteps, and the overhang absorbed my shadow, but each window passed presented the same scene. Tables and benches covered in dust. Chairs broken and strewn throughout the open areas. The hardware store shelving pulled down and lay in a mass of mangled metal. The upper shelves of wood still attached to the walls, but barren of any useful products or provisions.

When I pushed on the door of the drugstore, it fell in, splashing waves of dust to each side like dry tsunamis rolling up the walls and back into the room. For a split second there was light and I thought I saw something clearly, but now visibility was impossible as the dust congested any clear view. Looking to my right, there were still a half a dozen blocks of storefronts like this; and also across the street on the north side. I pulled a rag from my back pocket and covered my mouth & nose before going inside, the dust settling quickly enough to move freely onward. Less than thirty feet in, the counter on the right ended, yet there were no stools or chairs to be seen. But there was a large mirror on the wall paralleling above it, maybe fifteen feet in length and four feet in width. The writing had been smeared, it appeared, many times over, but the message was clear. GET OUT

2012 EPILOGUE 5a

The days had passed. I don’t know how many of them, like the mirages which whiffed their way to us riding on waves of heat above the sandy desert. But some had passed. We hadn’t spoken, or to say, she; hadn’t spoken. But at least she wasn’t wailing and bawling any longer either. That was just the one night.

I had rifled through the truck’s cab finding a pair of sweat pants behind the seats, and grabbed one of my t-shirts from the duffle bag to give to her. She didn’t respond to the offer, and I dropped them at her side. In the cargo hole I found a mining kit mixed amongst the scattered MRE’s. It contained a hand held pick-axe and a foldable shovel, which I used to bury Alan and the boys. The sun was just setting when I finished and got back to her, where she was sitting, wearing the sweat pants and t-shirt…but still crying.

Now I had nothing but silence to wear at me during the heat of the days, and an occasional coyote throughout the nights. I brought her a couple of fresh MRE’s each day, but she never ate from them. Except for the small packets of apple sauce or juice, even though my pile of empties numbered more than a dozen. I slept each night beside the truck, where I had gathered the gas cans to form a low wall around me. I know I never slept all night through. Not just because the heat had made it difficult to find any comfort, but because I was more than a week without my Doxazosin. I know more than once while I was up peeing in the night, I made mental notes that if I come across another town/city, I was going to raid their pharmacy.

And then I finally made a decision. I explained to Penelope that I had to go to the next town south of us to see if there is anyone there. I told her that I’d start just at sunset and travel through the night when it’s under a hundred degrees. I had guessed it at ten to twenty miles only a few days earlier, but now reconsidered as I walk at a comfortable three to four miles per hour pace, but hadn’t arrived there when the sun was peeking in from the east. If this has been nine hours, then the town is more than thirty miles. And now I could see clearly the architecture of downtown buildings and homes which surrounded to the south and to the west.

Less than a mile to go, and now I was noticing the quiet here as well. I slowed my pace, realizing that there wasn’t any form of cover to hide my arrival. No shrubberies or trees. Not even rolling dunes to creep along, and by the time I was nearing the back streets, my shadow was already cast twice my height. Maybe everybody’s asleep, I thought to myself, and my ears craned for the slightest rustle.

2012 EPILOGUE 4a

Before the gaze was abruptly interrupted, my eyes drank in the dark rolling hairs, diminishing to a fuzz line just around the vulva. The clitoris’ pink pearl catching sunlight, as her right leg freed itself, her foot thrusting into my chest.

I tumbled at least twice and when I landed belly down and looked up, she was in a squatting position. Legs together, breasts just behind the knees, her left arm around her legs and her right hand extended to the ground, palm firmly grounded. She was a beauty no matter the position or pose. Some will say her lineage are the daughters of the daughters of the daughters of a queen. Some twenty five hundred years in the making since Gorgo of Sparta ruled her people. And if this be her, she has already impressed me royally.

‘How in the hell did you get here, naked and everything?’ I asked in the manliest tone I could gather, my breath barely returning. ‘Are you alright’ I followed as I scraped myself from the grassy surface. ‘Where are your clothes?’ I made two steps in her direction, and she stopped me cold with a stare. Her piercing black eyes surrounded by squints of white were both foreboding and mesmerizing. My body wanted to go to hers, yet my mind held me fast to the ground on which I stood. I thought for a moment I could just squat and kneel, and enjoy the beauty before me, but before I could, the air was filled with her shrieks and wails. And then the bawling started.

I turned to stare across the lake, noticing that the water line had dropped another couple of feet. The freshly receded mud glistening in the sunlight, the banks already drying in the early morning heatwave. And then I saw them, bodies it seemed, farther around the lake nearest the tree line some thousand yards to the east. I began walking towards them, and then my feet stretching the pace, I could make out the bodies clearly as I neared the five hundred yard mark. I know my gait was a run, but quickly slowed up as the reality of the scene I was viewing manifested itself. Even from a few hundred yards away I could see the scarred flesh of their faces, their hair scorched back away from their skulls. Their clothes appeared to be melded onto their bodies with no differentiation of what was once flesh or cloth. I was at a stumbling walk as I got within the final steps, approaching them from the tree bank side. I looked back towards the west, towards Penelope, and could only make out a small dark dot against the feigning tree line which ended just to its west. The sand replacing the green life which still embraced us, seemed endless in its stretch. And already, even a mile away, the waves of heat rising from it made ripples dance rhythmically, to and fro in all directions.