NationStates Jolt Archive

Chapter I - "Splitting An Atom and an Island"

Ciudad Federal Community, Bega Federation

The once-province of the industrial nation known as Portshire had been in isolation for the past three years. It was establishing a government, backwards of the Jewittist one implaced in the Jewittist Republic which it broke, and was slowly forming up economic stability for self-supporting purposes.

Laying on the dirt streets are not a single grass leaf or debris of some sorts. Clean, or as clean as orange clay could be. No grass was seen, no green. It had all been uprooted, the soil poisoned from industrial workings.

On the sides of the streets lay not bicycles or children toys, but a barren brown-dirted commune, a building the size of a regular elementary school, holding some 120 adults and 60 children. It was crowded when occupied, but it is empty, as is the streets and front lawn.

Black smoke is seen in the distance. Not a single forest-fire stack, but uncountables, all noticeable as separate from the one next to it. Beyond the brown and orange barren and treeless hill is a massive building, with at least twenty smoke stacks coming from what appears to be a hole in the roof. The metallic black structures are buzzing with only one noise; machinery. Not a single voice, or even a cry, is heard. The windowless building continues to pump out the black smoke continuously, without end, until on a massive digital screen in the middle of the building where a court yard-like section seemed to have been begun, but was never finished, rang at 6:30 PM.

Silently in a marching-like noise, similar to that of a horde of massed protesters without screes and shouts of blasphemy, a mass of gray with brown and black heads moved into the yard, around the screen which now was apparently one of four, all in the shape of a box.

A face appeared within the minute. Unlike some futuristic movie which would have just a face, it was attached to a general's body, in full uniform. He looked straight ahead for some time, smiling, his eyes scanning; just as if he could see right into the eyes of the battered men, women, and children standing, staring at his obvious and more than likely prestigious rank. Coming from his voice came something they all knew by heart, a stern but growling respectable voice that boomed from the silence and even over the still-flowing black tails of the buildings "Good afternoon."

In a roarous monotone of mixed genders and ages, "Good afternoon, Matthew" boom through. Calling this marvelous general of high ranks and popularity by his first name would be uncalled for anywhere. But instead of acting enraged as any respectable man would, he smiled at this pledge. "How was your day?" He asked, as if talking to just a certain person from the crowd. Once again, in unison they all called "Spectacular." His eyes scanned, their brown darkness not being able to read an internal emotion, or even a slight reflection of the cameras or crew in-front of him in a studio that has to be somewhere.

He began greetingly, as if he had just greeted himself for the first time. "Hello, first off I would like to recognize the Edgewater Community for their spectacular discovery of more efficient nuclear energy. Now instead of those massive smoke stacks, we shall soon have a nuclear reactor on each IslandCommune, meaning more power for you and less blackness crowding our skies. Hail our brethren as they have made our lives greater!" In his finishing of his opening comment and report the crowd busted in a unified roar, all of same pitches and yelps; although still gender identifiable.

The general continued on, ranting on the military's growth, more health-care benefits, and more Inter-Commune Communication. However, the topic of Inter-Island Communication did not come up, which was something many had on their minds. The people did not know of what the government, or what "Matthew" had planned for them, except continue working. If they worked, they were fed and provided for, no matter injury or crisis. There were no "minimal benefits" for those with disabled bodily parts or what not, but full benefits. "Big Brother", as they called the government and "Matthew" always made sure they were happy.

The entire Community was connected on a circuit where Big Brother could always hear you, and rumor was that it had sensors to pick up anti-patriotism and separatism, and pin point where it came from and match a voice with one on record. But it was a rumor, and an outrageous one. Why would Big Brother even want to see if its citizens were talking about it negatively, it was not like anyone would go against Him; Big Brother provided everything they needed.

With each Community were sister communities, all on an IslandCommune. No one knew how many IslandCommunes there were except for Big Brother, but some said there were well over a hundred.

As "Matthew" disappeared from the screen with a good bye and "Best wishes to your life" as he always ended with, the clock returned. Behind it was the flag of the Bega Federation, the Engsok Insignia.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v289/Truitt/Engsok.png

History books said there was a massive war between the islands. One was controlled by the loving and caring Engsok, and the other by a ruthless and destructive Weezlod. By the power of the people, uniting and working only for the services the government could give in return, Engsok reunited the islands and brought peace into the land once again. Since then, Engsok has controlled the islands, providing as they did during the war but much more efficiently, and in return they asked all able-bodied men, women, and children to work for the better for the Federation.

"Para el mejor de Bega." was their chant after the disappearance of "Matthew."

For the better of Bega

As time kept on going on, the Dugahh Community started to ponder with their sister community, Sattenburg Community, on why Inter-Island Communication was not available, why fishers could see boats from other IslandCommunes fishing, knowing that they were looking back, trying to figure out if they had the same skin color, or even spoke the same language.

The two-Community island of Dugahh-Sattenburg IslandCommune were split. Sattenburg Community thought that Big Brother was not telling the truth, that there were more than just the government said they controlled. The Earth could not be owned in little island amounts as "Matthew" had illustrated. Yet Dugahh Community stressed that the islands were all of the planet, and that "Matthew" had reunited the planet.

The island was split, as was the atom to the island just next to them.

Kirulech Shipyards, Sattenburg Community
Three Days Later
On the rocky coast of the Sattenburg Community lays the only way to get on that particular portion of the island. It is a dock made of metal, but not normal metal. A cheap one designed to withstand nearly anything, including hurricanes and ship-ramming.

The dock, however, is not fixed to the water but only to the island. It slowly sways to the rocking of the ocean's current. Its small fissures every so ten yards shows that it was designed to this oddity.

People in gray shirts and darker gray long pants are seen walking back and forth, no talking. An occasional seagull or pelican would fly bye, the 'gull crying out laughter. The beings below the birds do not even take note of their existance, but just continue on working; as if there is no end in the foreseeable future. With their movements are trucks buzzing by, but not running on diesel or gasoline, but all that is seen comming from its exhust is a clear liquid; water.

Hydrogen Fuel Cells were new to the world, and inefficant in mass-producing. It did clear the air (with an air filter infront of the cell itself) and with its only waste product being water, it also helped arrigate the orange and brown land.

Unlike the towns in Ciudad Federal Community, there were paved roads. But it was with rocks, black as the smoke stacks off in the distance, beyond even the high hills. The rocks were made from the rocks of the coast, volcanic as they came from they conducted heat and thus made the long-pants short-sleeved citizens quite hot, but they were hydrated constantly, given four meals instead of just three, and also were given air conditioning within their massive Residence Building. There was no government abuse of its citizens, no matter the sercomstances.

The men and women continued to work, not a child in sight. Silence with the bird calls was all that was heard, an occasional car engine or ripping of gravel. In the silence broke out a single fog horn-like commottion. In the distance was a massive boat, just barely close enough to see that it had communicational masts and a high-level superstructure. It was what had been rumored to be the first pieces of the nuclear reactor comming to their IslandCommune.

As it slowly docked the dock rocked back and forth, ramming onto the metal hull making a loud and disturbing clinging noise. As the noise was ringing children started to appear. However, these were not typical ones, but more-or-less football-stereotyped built children, with at least a 10:1 ratio over the girls.

All were brown-haired, and although of different shades the youngings, as with their adult counterparts, were near-black tan from the blazing sun. Their eyes had pure emotion, but could not be explained. They flew with childhood and tiersome motions all at once. Their dirt-colored eyes locked onto the ship, and as the clinging stopped with the settling of the ship's tides that it was creating, a bridge with grooves and imprints was lowered as the children with a few able-bodied men first touched onto the now nearly-stable port.

Down the ramp, connected was some sort of a wire and as it lowered it was stopped from radically falling because of that life-line.

The boxes were unloaded, some as big as an entire person and some being as small as a head of one of the children.

Days went past but no construction crews came, the boxes sat in one of the black storage buildings which it too had two columbs of smoke comming from it. The men and women continued to unload ships with the childrens' help and the boxes piled up. All mixed of different shades of wood, many started to wonder if they all came from different islands. But no one knew what were in the boxes, or why they were placed in a "storage" facility with two black puffs comming from the roof.

One Week Later

A massive ship came out of no where. No fog horn was heard, just the ship's black dot over the horizon getting bigger and bigger. It rammed onto the dock showings its front which was flat with a large opening. It lowered with admediate trucks running on diesel flying out and even a few tanks and armed vehicles. This was the first time most of the citizens had even seen a gun, let alone a near-military operation.

Afraid, they cowerd in buildings, check stations, and ditches in fear.

The ship flew in reverse at an alarming speed for its building-like size and continued in reverse off to the horizon, not even turning around to go forward.

The motorcade made its way, with two old Grunder Industries "Paveway" Escort Tanks in the lead. The trucks stopped at a point inbetween Ciudad Federal and Sattenburg. They started to unload wall pieces and the works. Heavier semis started to roar from the opposite direction, from an other cargo ship of the simular make.

The construction had begun, and as 6:30 PM rolled around that afternoon, "Matthew" did not appear on screen. Just a message "Please bear with our changes." in digital fonting. It was like a movie, black screen with green letters and a blinking bar at the end. Not even the insignia was seen translucent to the type.

The Communepeople were worried, scared, and frightened. Something was going terribly wrong.

Chapter II - "Ingpol"

On the smallest island in Bega lays a single large pure-white complex building. Its brightness blinds anyone who sees it, and its top-section is made of mirrors facing the sky. By flying over it, it appears to be a dome-shaped pond, but closer and you see a domical building with such smooth walls that someone could die rubbing the pure smoothness. No people have been seen entering or exiting the building for years, and no windows are seen.

A room no larger than a standerd high school classroom is lighted just enough to be perfect; not too bright and not too dem. The room has in it three cameras, all possitioned against the opposite wall of a podium, which held the Engsok Insignia and Flag. It is finely polished of redwood and shaped of a retangle; nothing special nor unique. Beside it are two men talking. One having a poorly-shaven gotee; "Matthew", and an other having a long beard and a yamakah-hamakah on the bold patch of his head; world-renowned figure Emeraldia Orthodoax Sinagog's own Rabbi David Cohen.

His young yet tierd face showed in wrinkles plagueing his chin and nose areas. A large beak-like nose was the most noticible trait of his face next to his expression of victory and success. His brown eyes shown as "Matthew" said "Just because they don't know what is out there, doesn't mean they will never know." The Rabbi nodded and asked "Shall I make an appearance at the end of your address?" His hebrew acsent was noticible, more or less like a New Yorker's voice. "Si, tu should." He confirmed back in broken english. The men nodded at eachother as a yellow light stared to flicker in the direction of the cameras. A standerd clock showed 6:29 to the best of their view at the angle they were at.

The Rabbi nodded his head, shook "Matthew's" hand, and walked behind the fixed cameras.

"Matthew" adjusted himself infront of the podium as the light turned red, and the finally, green. He proudly greeted into the cameras "Good afternoon." He awaited from further motions, looking into all three cameras and turnning his head to each one periodicly, then continued. "How was your day?" He again awaited and looked into the cameras.

Smiling after three secound's count, he said "First off, I would like to report that the third nuclear reactor has been built on the Sattenburg-Ciudad Federal IslandCommune, and should be running very soon.

"I am sad to report that I forgot to mention what happens during the construction. All communications out of the island, namely which allows me to contact you daily, will be shut down as not to over-run the reactor before it is even completed. I am deeply sorry to Sattenburg-Ciudad Federal and Quesadia IslandCommunes for this problem."

He awaited a few more moments and then continued on, reporting on various weather conditions throughout the Federation and other things. The rabbi stood there, smiling, awaiting his turn. "Now, please allow me to introduce someone very special to myself." Insisted "Matthew" as the Rabbi unfolded his arms. It was his time to shine, and to show the people the truth. He prepaired himself mentally to say what he had to fast and quickly, before anyone could cut off the communications.

He walked up infront of the cameras and smiled. His beard seemed to sweat itself as he took in a hollowed breath.

Chapter Three - "Discovery"

The islands had been sadistically working lately. Sattenburg and Ciudad Federal both, to the brim of their capacity. The men, women, and children had all been working, continuously, not knowing of the changes happening around the chain of islands, let alone within their own island.

The Party was the name of Big Brother and "Matthew," along with anyone associated to it. As for The Party, it was that of Engsok, Enlaschish Sochalism (Comminuklech Newspeak for "English Socialism"), that was all that was allowed. Either you were part of The Party, or The Lessocful, or Lesser Society in English Newspeak.

Newspeak was once a concept that one day the government would have altered all words into positive and reflectively easy language, all deriving from the language it is based after (English or Comminuklech or what-not). Many words such as bad would be erased and replaced with ungood, or doubleungood for really bad. Comminuklech is the same concept. For bondohn (good), there is sebondohn (ungood) and not setde (bad). Many words such as think and war would be changed to thought and unpeace. Literally, there is no negative points in any Newspeak language.

Well, The Party was a more federal-leveled organization, the people who ran the show. The Lessocful was a more IslandState-based party, which all those on the island had to be a part of, or be treated as a Thoughtcrimeful Person, or a person who had Thoughtcrimes (Thinking against the government and the communes). It was like the old untouchable phrase polsex and paxsex. Polsex meaning Political Sex, which means to have such acts to bring in a new party member and Paxsex meaning Peace Sex which is for recreational, which is also treated as a thoughtcrime. To have any interaction with someone else that has something else to do with life than commune-work or raising a polsex-based offspring, than that too is a thoughtcrime.

Everyone was part of the Lessocful, but there were always five to twelve people who were part of The Party on each island.

Ciudad Federal-Suttenburg IslandCommune had been working as usual but was on its ends. The reason was due to the lack of "Matthew's" addressing to the people. Usually he would do it in the morning, afternoon, and late afternoon; yet recently he had only done it in the mornings and every other day he would address them in the late afternoon. His addressing would always comfort them, assure them of their future for making those less fortunate than themselves more like themselves. Promising that once all were at the same level, all would start to rise in less than a year. No one knew how long a year was, though, so it could be tomorrow, or it could be months away; but then again no one knew how many days were in a month.

Ciudad Federal; Residence Block D2

Ashlen Salerez, a young woman of about twenty two years of age, lived in the flat in Block D2. Flat was a word in Newspeak for Room, for it being completely flat. Ashlen did not know her age, but was sure that she was born around 1980, and was guessing that it was around 2003, but then again it was all guessing, and was not sure. She just worked as one of the eight Lessocful and had known nothing than that for her whole life. Her whole family had been in the Lessocful de S-CF ("Seckef"), as it was called Inter-Islandly, since their existence in the Federation.

Her grace followed her hips as she walked across a massive wall-spanning screen on her way from her television to the kitchen. She turned down the massive screen's military music which was playing with the flag of Engsok flying proudly on a black background. It could not be completely turned down, but it was to its fullest which was limited to a murmur once she was in the kitchen.

The kitchen was rather pitiful, but was the top of anyone Else's on the island. It had a counter along its edges with a person-wide opening to the living room. On top of the counter was nothing more than a blunted aluminum knife There were little drawers, but they surely contained blunted metallic utensils. She opened up a windowless cupboard and took out a ceramic plate that had to be thinner than the knife to her side. Her long and dark arms stretched out and grabbed a frozen burrito from the cupboard. She has placed it in there to defrost while she went to work for the last two hours.

Nearly defrosted, she tossed it into an extremely small microwave, large enough for two of the burritos; but no plate. At closing, the box lit up and began to cook. A minute later the door flung open, but she caught it half-way and quickly grabbed and tossed the burrito onto the plate. With a "chink" her meal was complete.

Her long legs, uncovered by her short denim skin, shown with her hairless curves of muscle and smoothness, one to make any man tremble over. Her shoulder-trimmed light brown hair flowed in the thinness it was as she jerked her head to shock of the changing of the music as pictures of Jewittist soldiers, darker in skin and hair, filled the screen. Armed with dangerous future-like rifles and helmets that looked like space-heads. The enemy before The Grand Unification. She looked at it with vileness and grievance. But it was not because she hated the Jewittists, but because it was from habit. If you did not, then it meant you did not hate the Jewittists and that was a thoughtcrime. After she passed the screen's view her safety returned. Its internal camera could only see you if you could see the screen itself.

As she cut the burrito in half and used it as a fork to place a piece of the sizzling and bubbling bean liquid into her mouth, she thought immediately of different and random thoughts. She could not think, but she could thought; if that made any sense. Mindless wondering of assignments from work to the taste of the burritos and how it was tasting more like cardboard and sand than beans and bread. Something weird than flew into her head; Big Brother. How could he be so demandive, and not even make sure that she was given good food; let alone that she was even a Party member.

Thoughtcrime, stop it she reminded herself, squenching her eyes because if anyone else knew she was thinking of that, than the Thoughtpolice would find her and she would never see light again; she would be just as bad as the destructive and inhumane Jewittists. Trying to think of the cardboard piece that she was eating to avoid the subject of her thoughtcrime, it kept on coming up in her head; like a broken piece of music of a few verses that are the most heard and will not leave the some inches in-between your ears.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, she got up, only a quarter of her burrito eaten (a single bite), she walked off to her private room where the television was. She ducked down, her skirt not hiding her undergarments from behind, scourging under her plank of a bed when she thought damn it, they can't even give me a good bed. All of her movement stopped at once as she noticed what she thought of. Shaking her head to herself she continued her I just had a bad day chant in her head as she pulled out her own notebook. It was something private, although the Party examined all personal writings weekly. Earlier that morning it had been checked, and it was not to be checked until seven days from that morning.

She wrote down all her thoughts, as did most people around the Federation; or so she was told. Her thoughts were now raging inside, furious with Big Brother and "Matthew" for what they were doing. She started to write from habit what she was thinking of that moment. Minutes went by and she could not recognize the handwriting, it was not hers; or at least as perfect as her own. It was a little sloppier, some letters running together (cursive is never used). She caught herself half-way through and looked down in horror.

DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
THE DEATH OF MATTHEW IS A DEATH TO POVERTY
HAIL ENZO JEWITT
LET JEWITTISM RULE OVER ALL
MORIR PARA VIVIP

Her writing stopped half-way through the R, so it resembled a P. Morir Para Vivir, the phrase of the Jewittists. Dying to Live. Meaning, you must die for your country, instead of your country dieing for you; which was what Big Brother believed; Big Brother Watches You To Protect You. The pen was in ink, and any ripped out papers would be suspicious. She could not understand why she wrote such harsh and thoughtcrimeful words.
Then she realized that no matter what; she would die. Panic came over her but she would not close the glossy paper filled with black blotches in the forms of letters. She could not ruin her thoughts, as the ink would smudge. Panicking, she paced in her room until the massive screen on the wall which was blaring various songs of dance and patriotism got quiet. A swift knock on her door; and an unrecognizable man's voice saying "Ms. Salerez, open up."

Chapter Three - "Ingpol II"

Stuned and confused she is motionless, eyes full of regret, glittering to the little light in the room from the windows, face emotionless for fear of death, its brownish tone now yellow. Her legs, showing their beauty for the world, tightened and tensed from excessive stress. Her little arm hairs stood on ends and her long hair seemed to get heavier, glossier, and more of a burden on her head.

Senses running like crazy, she walked past the black-filled screen of the telescreen, where usually a man would be talking or an orchastra strumming a tune of militarism.
She opened the door to see a man she knew, Sergent Herald Sanchez; the sheriff of the Thoughtpolice of the Ciudad Federal Community.

"Yes, Sergent Sanchez?" She said in a clear and unsuspicious tone. Living on an isolated and un-bordered land where you had no place to run, she knew how to hide emotions that could mean life and death. Everyone did, even the

leaders. "I am here to say that you are needed at the Department again, your
breaour I know is not yet over, but we need your assistance, Matthew's

communication lines are not going through anymore; we belive an other
hurricane is on its way here."

Sighing a bit of relief, she nodded and grabbed her sachel and left. The book still open, right ontop of the table, seen from the door. The Sergent did not see it, and Ashlen admediately forgot of it, as not to even allow her eyes to betray her.

They got in a hydrogen fuel cell porwered vehicle for two and took off the orange roads and passed so many baren wastelands for housing. In disgust she saw what Big Brother was doing; kill them off. She cured in her head and then the Sergent turned and said "Comrade Ashlen, what troubles you?" He asked in a formal way, using "Comrade," which was pretty much what you called everyone if you refered to them in thier first name.

"Nothing, just the change in pressure has my seinuses running." She lied. The mention of a hurricane admediately makes people stereotype those with navel troubles to have head problems in the pressure change. "Your mouth, it was whispering something like 'die' or something." He said back, the car slowing due to his not paying attention to the road.

Something had betrayed her, her own mouth. She had mouthed to herself "Why can't Matthew just die" and the Sergent must have caught the last word. "Oh no, I just mouthed off 'ow,' my head is hurting quite a bit, Comrade." She made sure to add Comrade at the end, as to ensure she was still part of Lessocful.

After getting to the gray complex, she admediately noticed the picture of Matthew, his head present over the door in a massive painting. "Big Brother is Your Master" was inscribed below it in ill-formed and sloppy letters. It was ment to be like that, to appear as if a Lessocful wrote it there our of 'the beauty of their heart' as the heads put it.

The building was filled with people of various races, black, white, asian, hispanic, all mixed. It was the Lessocful Capital of the Suttenburg-Ciudad Federal IslandState, so it was understood that it would be mixed.

Everyone glanced at her for a moment but then returned to their work, the uproar of yells and disorder not stopping for a moment.

She made her way up, without the Sergent, up to the third floor where she worked. The first cubical next to the only stairs, the easiest place to remember which cubical as yours.

"Damnit Salerez, the minute you leave and the bb broadcast goes offline! You're on Sattenburg Connect, and hurry it up!" Demanded her boss, Comrade Roger Miles. "bb" as a short term for Big Brother, and no one dared say "Big Brother" unless it was hailing him. She looked at her computer which the moniter she had just turned on, and it had a single message.

NATAS LIAH LLA

She looked at it for a moment. NATAS LIAH LLA. What could that mean? She thought studying it and then remembering it. She restarted her computer and began her work, fingers crackling at the keys in a rapid motion; all the coding done in htmlNEWSPEAK, the universal programming language of the Lessocful. NATAS LIAH LLA. Thinking it was Latin she memorized it and would go to her partner in programming, Lessi Moree, and ask her as she knew Latin (or what little her mother tought her before she was taken by Big Brother for thoughtcrimes).

In the mist of working on the communication problems, which she had discovered to be a downed sealine that a ship or a tiudal wave could have disrupted, she typed in htmlNEWSPEAK "HTRAE NO MIH MA I" She stared at it, her beating fingers of white stopping their punishment on the black keys. Stunned and unknowing, she wrote it down, as with NATAS LIAH LLA, and placed it in her back pocket. Although if she was caught with it, a possible government document leaving the building, she could be a thoughtcriminal and treated as such.

Finishing her work she reported to Roger Miles, who was pleased, and he allowed her to go and take the rest of the day off. She did not leave admediately, but went straight to the cubical opposite of hers in the room where Lessi Moree was working. More than likely she was doing a debugging of the code that Salerez herself had put in, to make sure nothing wrong would happen.

"Hey there." Moree said in a child-like voice, young but clean. Her fingers, too, were bombarding the black keys of the keyboard which had no letters from the wearing of the fingers over the years. On her screen was Salerez's coding, and a red bar flying across the screen as she typed, copying the code to make sure it had no flaws. "What's up?"

Salerez smiled and said "What does natas laih lla mean?" The typing stopped and said "That sounds like a deep greek, or maybe latin, phrase. I am not sure, are you pronousing it correctly?" Asked Moree re-reading the screen; over the years she and everyone else had learned how to do at least five things at once. "Si, I am sure." Salerez noted back, looking at her code.

"Well, I don't know." Moree sighed as she backspaced an entire line of code and re-wrote it, changing the word of a few characters. "Sorry about that." Salerez said noticing a mistake in her design. "No worries, I am just making it faster, this senquence allows the code to be read easier by the computer, faster speed. No errors in it, though."

They said their goodbyes and Salerez left. It was a good thing that her friend had not asked why she had asked that question, or where she had seen it.

Walking home (since the Sergent was bound not to take her home) she passed more and more run-down buildings. More and more disgust started to fill her. Just a few days ago it would not have made her think twice about Big Brother and Matthew slowly working to improve the entire Federation, but now she was. Why would they keep a low-production island in the mist? Their goal was to glorify low-working islands into power.

Something suspicious crossed her mind. Matthew never says what the average conditions are. For all I know this island could be the richest of all, or the worst off. This thoughtcrime would have made he beat herself up inside, but she did not regret thinking it.

At her returnning home she saw her door open from the street.

The orange dust was flying into her apartment. Fearstruck and thinking the thoughtpolice had found her diary, placed in the open and easily readible from a few feet away, she approached the apartment slowly. A murmer was heard of children playing down the hallway, a family had just celebrated their youngest daugher's sixth birthday.

Looking into the room she saw nothing move, but her wooden floor was covred in orange disgust. The walls were painted orange with the dust, which also stuck to shoes and what not.

The whole place was untouched from what she saw except for the table. The diary was gone. She began in a panic, although silent of words.

She searched her entire apartment and found a lot of jewlry and precious stones and rings missing. A thief had broken in while the telescreens were down, the only time they could not have been seen by them.

Feeling slightly relieved, she could report the break in as soon as possible. The thief would find the diary, and fear it being in his custady, dispite the name in the front being Ashlen's own, woudl be treated as a thoughtcrimeful. Even in the hysteria of her anger the handwriting had gotten sloppier, not her usual one.

Her bruden was relived.

A few hours past and she decided to pick up the phone and call the Lessocful H.Q. in Sattenburg, since they handled all the theft complaints. A teror hit her face as an expression appeared that would attract attention if she was on the street. The thief could go directly to the thoughtpolice with it, say where he got it, and be issued amnesty for turning in a thoughtcriminal.

Her face was no longer brown, yellow, or what not, but white. She had no diary to show, which would be a thoughtcrime itself, and ontop if she issued the complaint he was sure to tell his story and more than likely they would belive him.

Thinking irrashinally she decided to go to sleep and to report her diary being misplaced tomorrow at work.

Chapter Four - "Sexthought"

The IslandCommune of Dugahh-Suttenburg had been ongoing through a period of distrought. Matthew had been making less and less apearances and islands all over the Federation was slowly making note of this. Not showing it in thier emotions, but knowing. That was the difference, knowing, but not acting; yet.

In a deep room within a massive spherical dome on a small barren island, Matthew and entire body of Engsok await the Rabbi's judgement.

"This is a curious predicament." Said the Rabbi in a northern New Yorker acsent. "One side wishes for religious openness, and the other to be godless; communism." Matthew looked up. His young, yet ridged face was damp from sweat. The building had been air conditionless for the past week.

"I am not forming a communist state, simply an authoritarian father-knows-best state." Lied the man. The Rabbi saw through his made-up government words. Not very political, but the Rabbi knew how to deal with this. "'Exit light, enter night.'" The Rabbi said, a quote from Revelations. "'Four horse, three heads, all through the truth, but never ends'." Matthew was aware of these quotes. "'David sought for his lord and in vain he showed himself, his eyes being the first a human has seen in the path of the beast.' Do you want me to be the beast?"

The Rabbi looked at him for a while and said with water-like eyes, hazel, and shining in the dim light "I will not permit the exilement of the Orthodoax Church of Bega, and I will make sure it will not be exiled, so help me God."

Matthew looked at him for a while, his brown eyes trying to read the Rabbi's own. Both religious and political heads were there, the government being behind Matthew and the church behind the Rabbi. Long beards and black suits.

"Would you rather die, than see the exilement?" Matthew asked, itching his head torwards the people behind the Rabbi, talking more or less to them instead of the bearded and respected man. No one moved.

Silence until wind started to howle outside, and then the Rabbi spoke up and said "Murder me, and slaughter my cabinet if you must, but my lord, Yahway, will see to your justice." The Rabbi began a calm prayer in Aramaic. The prayer for those loyal to the lord. Matthew had a disgusted expression on his face as he said "I will not kill a holy man, for that would put a curse on me. You yourself should know I am very susperstitous." Matthew winked at the man. He continued on "If the people do not worship me as a God, than they will not obey me."

The Rabbi said in Comminuklech "The lord gave us free will, and the right to chose weither or not to belive in Him or not. In the event that we do not, we meet further justification in betraying Him."

Matthew did not flench at this comment, he simpley said "The word 'church' shall no longer exist. It shall be called thoughtfaith, and nothing more. It shall be defined as 'thinking of beliefs torwards B.B., and torwards Him.' Him shall be myself, and I shall be God."

The Rabbi stared at him for a few moments in disgust. How could anyone possibly think like this? He thought in dismay. "G'day, Rabbi." Matthew said smiling as the guards mad a motion to take his arm. The proud man jerked his hands back and walked himself outside the room.

Haliburton - Fuergason IslandCommune

The highly-religious IslandCommune of Fuergason was divided into three divisions, as it was too small of an island to have seperate communities. Haliburton, the Religion and Production sector, Durframanhart, the Industrial sector, and Lioukampfenheight, the Aeronautics sector.

The advanced IslandCommune was rich in green, thin blades of grass grazing the land. No widelife beyond a few dogs could be seen, and the dogs were small; dodsens. "Wieners" as the locals called them oftenly.

The locals had very pale skin, blue eyes (although some have hazel), and blonde hair (some have a dirty-blonde tone). Their facial expressions more cheery and open. They oftenly talked and conversed together, not caring of Big Brother. In fact, there were no telescreens to be seen.

Nowhere, no black boxes with wide wall-sized screens, nowhere. Besides the murmor of gas-guzzling cars of various colors and types were the hum of voices chatting wildely. It was part of Engsok, a flag flew proudly at every other building, but this seemed to be a freer, and less-povertized, Engsok.

"I love how Matthew is working to make all the communes like us. Very great! This is the perfect life, not a care!" Exclaimed a woman proudly, not lieing through her teeth as some would in the Sattenburg-Dugahh IslandCommune. She respectfully said this, proud of herself.

To be continued, Have to go

Jessica Jewitt, a non-native was definately not a local. Her light-brown hair, dirt-brown eyes, and dark skin showed difference. She had a hispanic tone, but a soft structure of an Italian. She was Emeraldian, a race that was a mixture of Italian, Hispanic, and Dutch.

She was one of two on the whole island that she had known about which looked like that, and the other was pale in skin, a mixed-blood of the native race and Emeraldian.

Alone, with no family, she washed up on shore as a refugee of a war, supposibly "The Revolution," where the island fought away from the evil Jewittist forces in hopes of Engsok taking them under thier careful arms.

Jewittism. Her last name was Jewitt. It made her shudder, that if anyone knew her last name was Jewitt, they would admediately know she was more than likely, or her family was, the founders of Jewittism. Hidden in darkness she was known simpley as Jessi to those who knew her. When asked her last name she always said "Only The Party shall know." And it was left at that. many thought her an operative of Engsok, but she as not.

For years she had glorified Engsok and Big Brother for what they were doing. Bringing up the standerds to their own, making them have golden dirt covered in emerald grass and ruby wine at every dinner table. Sapphire water to drink and pearl bread to eat. They had the perfect life.

Everyone worked in The Ministry of Love. Love she mocked in her head. It was pretty much the department of war and justice, but everythign was backwards in newspeak. She herself worked as a field agent to scout out possible unpersons (people who should never exist, those against The Party) and to report them. She knew that at least seven people had died becuase of her, and countless had been sent to work camps to fuel the war effort.

Yup, war. As they say, the Jewittists were still attacking the eastern islands, those who were the most povertized, in hopes to make the corrupted politicans in charge feel rich by grabbing those claims.

But that was what made her questionable of The Party. She was at an island a long time ago, possibley two years, and had asked what they thought about The War and the povertized man did not know of any war, that "Jewittism is dead, we destroyed it in The Revolution, and peace is now on the islands, right?" She just agreed, not wanting to change anything The Party was telling them.

Maybe they say there is peace to make them not demand too much too fast she thought as her car motocaved over the road's side. She drove along the beaten-path, off the finely-paved road, into a wooden area. Already a large and luxerious building could be seen. The motto above the doors was barely readible after a few secounds off the road. "El no Perdonado" The Unforgiven in spanish.

It surely stated what they did, they would never be forgiven.

It was like a song she remembered growing up saying, back in the old Jewittism nation. "You label me, I label you. So I dub thee unforgiven." It described everything. She is a worker, and they are the rulers, and they are unforgiven because of it.

Rage almost came over her as the old man's face came back "what war?" kept on repeating into her head, constantly now.

She stopped at her spot and walked into the building, to her room which was filled with drawers, a desk, a few seats, all the normal CEO-styled goods, in a normal workhand's office.

"What I've thought, what I've known. Turn the pages, turn the stone" She said under her breath. It had just came out. She was not even aware of where she knew it from until after she started to work. On there was the lyrics of The Unforgiven II, a song by some band called "Metallica". "Weird name." She commented as she got to work modifying the lyrics to be pro-Party and anti-Free.

"Jessi?" Asked a voice from the room next to her, the window always cracked at the bottom which seperated them. "I am finished the song's music,I think you might want it to try to work around the music to make it look like it fits." It was her co-worker, James Hiers. She accepted the compact disk, loaded it into her Codesound Machine, and listened, lyrics of the original still in it.

"Or are you Unforgiven too?" She sang with the lyrics right as a loud sound of what might have been a guitar ripping away from the beat and making its own tune, somewhat of a rebellion with the song. Her knee automatically beat to the bass and guitar ripping, and as silence came with a guitar playing silently, she sang with the lyrics. "Lay beside me, and tell me what I've done. The door is closer on your eyes, but now I see the Sun. Now I see the Sun. Yes, now I see it!" She yelled this, jumping out of her chair. As the music raged out again with James jumping to see what she was doing.

Oh no, thoughtcrime. She thought, she had just sang and had been inspired by a audiocrimeful thing. James was loyal, he would report her in a minute. She shook her head and said "Wow, I can just imagen the new lyrics would be a lot better." James looked at her oddly and got back to work, peering to her occasionally.

She would be caught, but instead of throwing the C.D. away she placed it in her briefcase. It had on it more songs by that band, and she had to hear them. The Party would find out, and instead of giving a hefty warnning, she would be killed. The lastname Jewitt was a curce, for sure.

Leaving work Jessica noticed that James was behind her. A little afraid of what may happen next, she began to walk slightly faster. He did not walk faster, though.

Getting in her silver car, she left down the dirt road. After returnning to the pavement she did not see James's car, a red car in the shape as her own, and continued down the road with little worries. Just running yourself down, girl she thought pushing in the brakes at a stop light.

Right behind her, a car back, was a red car with a light-faced man at the wheel. James. Panic struck she left with quite a high acceleration, for having an other car infront of her.

Making it to work, the car past by her house as she violently, without blinkers, pulled in.

Hastingly leaving her car she went into her unlocked flat. "Damn, that was wierd." She said as she stopped mid-walk into her front room. A telescreen was right infront of her, and it could see everything in the room, kitchen, and anything except the opposite room, the bedroom.

Staying calm she asked "Flat mission" very sturnly. The telescreen's militaristic sounds ceased as a robotic man's voice responded "New mission, due to war televisional entertainment has been added, as to keep populous updated on world events and to note any rebellion within borders, Jewittist thoughtcriminals are more massed."

The voice stopped and her heart sunk. The telescreens had finally hit their patriotic island. She said to the screen "Flat I will be leaving now." The telescreen turned green for a moment, and then returned to its usual programming but with a lower sound in the music. It was in idle mode, for when no body was home.

She left and jumped in her car. As she reved up the engine hastingly a thought crossed her mind. They put it there because James reported me, and they want evidence.

She looked in her rear view mirror as she reved up the engine's near-silent engine when a red car came barelling into the flat's driveway capable of some four cars. It was the second in the driveway. She paniced seeing James's head staring at her own eyes. She could not see his blue eyes through the tinting of the windows.

He got out, and panicing even more, she wondered about pushing her way through in reverse, but that would be evidence enough that she was hiding something. He knocked on her driver's window and she rolled it down. "Hey there, that music you were listenning to, mind if I copied it?" He winked at her at saying this. Confused she said "I don't have it." A lie, but if he was with the Thoughtpolice than it is better not have it, even if it was in her sachel behind her seat. "I know, but I need to see its label." He said, looking at her now with some sort of a hard to read face. "What do you mean?" She asked quizitively, wondering what he could be talking about. He pushed his lips up to her ear and said "I am with you."

Raptior, Jewittist Republic

A finely polished red wood room, walls made of the fine wood and a large square table of a simular wood lay. Inside are three men, two young adults. It is the Operations Center's front office.

It was in the heart of the Jewittist Republic, the Republic of many nations who united for a cause greater than themselves, in hopes of a world-wide peaceful nation. It was battling, as it had for the past four years, a nation called The Enzoist Sovergein States, who was led by a political group called Engsok.

In the room, there were the men. All brown haired, brown eyes, and dark skin. "If you are going to be in anb aryan state, you must have blue eyes and blonde hair. We got that covered." The younger-looking, teenage, man put his hand on his hair. "Damn, but I love my hair." His mane was long, past hid shoulders, but thin as a cat's own. "Yes well, I and everyoen don't want you two going, but we can't help that."

The second teenager, darker and a little older; yet shorter; spoke out in a heavty spanish acsent "Well, we're the only ones that can do it. We fought there before, we know the land." The older man obviously did not approve of sending two youngsters to a land of hostility towards their kind.

"Look, we have to do it, what else is left?" Asked the younger long-haired one. He had a perfect tense as the older man, but occasionally stumbled on pronouncing words, usually running letters together or seperating those which were not supposed too. He and the youngster did not speak english before any other, was an understood characteristic of the two.

The man spoke of small weapons, backpacks, way of getting there, everything. Every flaw was pointed out, every advantage shown in detail.

el Jewittist la Republica Presencia la Ciudad

The room was heavily lit, and was full of people running. Actually, it was not a room, but a large storage warehouse, or so it seemed. I have seen it many times before, when it was more worn-down and when I was younger.

"El Canciller del señor, nosotros tenemos su juicio se prepara." Mr. Chancellor, we have your suit ready. I nodded at the man who probably did not speak english. "Gracias." I followed the man down the hall, everyone was much older than me. Many in their twenties, while I barely was seventeen.

My now-blonde long hair waved past as I walked briskly down the trail. I was unaware of how people were staring at me now, not noticing. I had lighter skin, just a bare tan-like color now, and I had contacts which turned my eyes blue (they were odd, when you looked at them from their casings they seemed to be an orange color). I felt ackward, being someone I wasn't. They would have cut my hair, as most men over there don't have hair longer than their ears, but I threatend to have them deported if they did that.

I walked down for a while, dark men all over, and a few women, looking at me.

Unknowing that I would be a soldier soon, again. Thoughts raced through my head. "Gentlemen, 'Operation: Where the Wild Things Are' is about to be launched." Reported a man in a general's uniform, badges all over. "'Toy soldiers off to war'." I said, repeating a lyric from the Metallica song of the same name. The generalissimo obviously did not know what it ment and said "Si, well, erm, are you ready, mi Canciller?" He had broken english, but an englishman could understand what he ment. "Si." I said. My partner was not nearby, but he had already gotten on the Sea King heavy-transport helicopter.

After suiting up, a kevlar jacket under a heavy armal jacket with pockets all over. They had in them grenades, supplies, and munitions. I was a single-man army.

"Toy soldiers, start the charge." I said under my breath, that song still in my head, as I got onto the helicopter who's two-blades were rapidly turnning.

We were off.

Fuergason Coastline

The helicopter would register as a civilian heavy transport, nothing the Enzoists would suspect as an enemy. "Mr. Chancellor, are you one-hundred percent sure you want to do this, and you too, Mr. Douvier?" Asked the same old man in a generalissimo's uniform. My friend, Douvier Daniel Tanner, or as I called "Shifflett", nodded. He was the "gung-ho" man in our clique that I still was connected with, regaurdless of me being the most powerful man in the Republic that I fought to make.

"Alright, Chancellor Jewitt will drop here, and scout out the area for a landing by Douvier Tanner. Fonzi, you will have the mission of watching out for beach patrols, nobody is at the beach now, all are either at some propeganda meeting or eating in their homes." I nodded and so did Shifflett.

"Now, you all have to remember, newspeak is spoken here, and I am sure both of you have a fair understanding. Most civilians still speak our english, and some italian. You must have a germanic acsent, so both of you will have a problem with this, Daniel being spanish and you, Fonzi, being strict-born. Your Romanian stumbling can't happen here." I glared at the generalissimo. He knew was I was angry as I put my non-reflective golden shield over my eyes.

"Once you make a landing, you will find James. I know it has been a while, but don't get caught up in joys. A month is a long time, but all three of you have high spots in the Republic, and if you all are lost, than Schwul will be in charge and I hate his old ass. So all three of you come back once you have started an opposition on the island." We both nodded.

The music rang in my head now as I cocked back my OSAR-II Assault Rifle. Shifflett jumped into the water first with us hovering some twenty feet above the rough ocean. As the music got heavier in my head, playing from the beginning, my mind raced. I was the only thing holding the Jewittist Republic together, myself, Daniel, and James. We founded the nation that peacefully took most of the Republic, and if we died with the generation remembering us still alive, than chaos could errupt. Schwul could not take supermacy, regaurdless if he was elected by the people.

Toy soldiers off to war! Yelled in my head in a chorus as I jumped. I hit the water, cool but agressive, against my body. I was wearing an air-tight suit, so I was not wet.

I saw Daniel's head bobbing torwards me. "Sup Shiff?" I asked in my microphone in my helmet. "Not much Jeww." He said back. "Ready to do this?" I asked in a near-yell, the helciopter was leaving now, spinning around and leaving, making a lot of noise. It was the mist of day, too. "Oh yeah, what yeah got in your scopes?" he asked, by now his shoulder was with mine.

I picked up my gun, which I had let go of but was attached to my shoulder-clip. I looked through the scope and saw nothing. I magnified the sights, nothign, but two people hiding behind a lifeguard post. I could nto see anything but their shoes, both were wearing normal shoes, but their soals had been painted lime green and ocean blue, the primary colors of the Jewittist Republic. "It's James and someone else." I reported after sutdying the shoes to notice that it was just done, and some of the paint had gray-black sand on it from being wet.

Daniel went ahead of me, I still swam towards shore, but he faster. His gun ready, and I scanning for anyone else. The roads above the beach were empty, and the wind was calm. The two on the beach, from our possition, could probably have barely seen the helicopter, and that was how far out we were.

"Oi, Jeww, mind telling me who those people are on the beach?" He asked. I had lowered my scopes for a minute and did not keep a constant scan. I picked it up and next to the two with the painted shoes was a black-shoed man in black pants and from the sight of his sleeve was also black-sleeved. The only person who would wear black on such a hot day had to be a law officer. "Fuck, its a hostile." I said. Big eyes to open to rang in my ears, lyrics. I looked again and one of the shoes was moving out. It was the boy, James. James Conners, the Sectur of the Republic, or the person who was like a chief justice and a social supervisor in the government both. He was who the people looked to the most next to me. He was thrown on his knees. The other pair had walked back, and I could see she had brown hair and dark skin. She must have been the other Jewitt that my grandfather sent. He sent his brother's family at a first attempt to cause an uprising, but it did not work. That must have been my great uncle's grandaugher.

Stricken with dominance, I said "He is taking down James, I am going to take a shot." I noted just as I took out a single round of my barrel, the red dot at the middle of my scope right over the officer's ears. The round flew out of the silenced barrel with a "shfoot" sound.

Before Daniel could even say "Wait a minute!" the man's body fell limp over James's grounded one. James got up adruptly and looked around, then to the ocean. "Wave for James!" I said sadistically with a demonic feeling with Daniel diving under the ocean. I already knew what he was going to do. He sprang from the ocean with the force of his legs kicking from below. His figure could probably by now be barely seen.

James waved back as we now both hurried. I scanned occasionally, seeing James and the girl pulling the body into the life guard stand, where all the floaties and safety devices were. I had made a definate kill.

Proud of my self I swam just as hard as Daniel, but he was a swimmer, and physically fit, I was lacking a bit.

After reaching the shoreline I seemed to get colder from the wind, instead of the water. James, blonde hair and blue eyes, came up and gave us both hand shakes. "Long time no see Jeww, Shiff." He said. "Yeah, long time Fox." I said back, Daniel however was studying the girl. "Heh, Fonzi, she looks a little like yeah." he said, his acsent still present. The girl had a scared impression

Two men come from the ocean, armed in full army suits, and guns, that obviously work through a dead police figure. "Would you mind me asking, but is your last name Jewitt?" I asked the girl in my best mock of James's stuck acsent which he had probably had a month's worth of practice on.

We sent James first, as to establish a government possition, and with a few forged documents from being from other IslandCommunes, he was accepted. The girl looked at me for a while and said "Yes, I am Jessica Jewitt," she said hesitantly. "Nice to meet you, I am Fonzi Jewitt." I said this taking off my helmet. I am sure my face was seen all over the island as an evil figure. "Who?" she asked.

I was stunned, I was the one who was leading the tatical edge over the Enzoists in charge of this island, and she did not know who I was. "I am the Chancellor fo the Jewittist Republic." I said assuringly. "The what?" As if mockingly I said "You just know you are at war with some Jewittist country, huh?" She nodded. Daniel obviously laughed at this, and James rolled his eyes. "Ever read '1984'?" he asked me. "Duh, who hasn't?" I said back. It was a good book, I enjoyed it. "This is the Enzoist Oceania." James said. I had to think for a moment what that would mean, and then it hit me. The ultimate supressor.

What happened next I can't remember, I heard Daniel yell "Ohh shit!" and silenced and unsilenced guns fire. I felt a large hit to my chest and I remember hitting the water. A screem from a woman, shouts from men in italian and newspeak, and James's body falling ontop of me, maybe finding the same fait as myself.

Chapter Five - "Unpaxful Plans"

My head was hurting, the sound of military music was low but annoyingly present, and the entire room spelt of raddish. A headace overcame my senses for a moment. My chest beat, my heart just wanting to stop. I was sore and brused all over.

At noticing in my senses I was not quite home I jumepd out of bed and reached behind the pillow, a pale-yellow covering that seemed to be fifty or so years old. Out of habit I placed an uncocked pistol in my pillowcase from the days when home raids existed in my childhood. No pistol. Fearful I looked around for any form of protection; a gun or otherwise. In the corner was an Ak-47, something I had not seen since the first war between myself and my father when newer and cheaper guns came about.

It had no munitions, its clip was not attached nor around. I looked around. It was a pretty empty room, with a shelf on the opposite wall of the bed holding clothes, women's clothes, and a gray plastic foldable table next to the bed. Ontop was a digit clock and a white folded piece of paper. I reached for the paper and let out a yelp. My ribs were broken.

I pulled the paper and unfolded it just as I heard "Did you hear that?" Comming from the room next to me was a shuffle of feet. I paniced as the military music stopped and a voice of a man came over it.

"Fonzi, you awake?" Asked a voice I reconized as a face appeared through the door. It was James. I blew a breath of relief and asked hastingly "Where the Hell are we?" James smiled as Daniel walked through and said "Damn, yeah got hit pretty bad. Prolly woulda gotten worst if James didn't jump ontop of yeah. The gerds knew who yeah were, I guess." Daniel said, he had some odd acsent I couldn't place. It did not sound like the woman I had spoken to on the beach, nor of anything that I reconized. It seemed to be one of a ganster, or a lazy surfer with a gun. "Eh, where are we?" I asked again, felling my ribs which I now knew were, in fact, broken. "We're at Jessi's house. She kicks wicked ass man, and damn, she is your cousin, too." James said as he sat down next to me.

Daniel kept standing, occasionally peering into the other room with the kitchen where the voices were comming from. He started to explain to me everything about life on the island. He tould me how to talk, how to dress, hwo to do anything. "What ever you do, never say 'Carpe Diem Baby' unless you know the person is a Sandman." James ended. The Sandmen was an underground organization, nicknamed after their old fighter squadron they were in as kids; the 106th Air Superiority Wing "Sandmen."

"So, Carpe Diem Baby, huh? Is that Latin or something?" I asked. I reconized it. "We take everything from songs, more notable Metallica and Zepplin, well, it is a song about betraying your superiors. Kinda fits in, I guess?" Daniel finally commented after silence, now speaking in his italian acsent that I had come to know.

"Oh yeah, the one with the crazy solo?" I asked. Our ADD definately was showing as we trailed off the subject of being in a forgein land and possible death, and world leaders, all without a care. By the time we finished talking about "Enter Sandman," the song by Metallica which inspired our fighter wing's nickname, I had noticed that we had in fact trailed off subject. We always would. In meetings, and even in speeches to the Republic, we all oftenly trailed off.

James explained to me how he found out that Jessica was thoughtcriminal and how he had pursuaded her to come with him to the beach. "Smart shit, I guess that is two in the government that we have. We need more." I said. For all I knew it was only James and Jessica. "No, there are many more. They are noticible by their shoulders. A blue dot on the right shoulder from a led poisoning incident. It is common, but not on the shoulder. That is how you tell. That is the only way that Enzo can't find out who you are, because it is common. If you see the blue dot and if they jsut have a different vibe, walk up to them and say 'Excuse me sir, but have you heard of the Latin phrase Carpe Diem Baby?' and they should either say 'No,' meanning they arn't a Sandman, or 'Of course, We are Matthew's children,' than that means they are a Sandman." That explained a lot.

He further explained the government situation, the lies being spred, and all that. "But we are not at war with them....now at least." I said as James brought up how some islands think they were at war and others thought peac was fully accomplished across the world. "Yes, well, they have a rebellion group that is very unorganized on an island called Dugahh-Suttenberg. That is our first mission. Coordinate an attack there." James finished ouy with Daniel saying "I got the L.O.S.T. Department working on organizing a Wetty Division in hopes to start some organization. I am supposed to get word sometime this afternoon." I nodded and said "Where's Jessi now?"

The L.O.S.T. (Liberationist Offence Special Tatics) Department handled all international conflicts of uprisings and what not which needed gurella, covert, and sadistic tatics to win. They were the best men in the Republic, one of the best in the world. I myself actually wanted to be one but physically I would never be ready. Let alone mentally. A Wetty Division is a group of L.O.S.T. Operatives that are denied ever living if they die or are captured, they are no longer Jewittist, let alone Truitti or what ever their nationality is, and their loss is ignored by everyone in the Republic. They are also the ones who win wars and who kill the dictators who are invinsible.

Two hours past and Daniel came running in. I could not move even if I wanted to, so I stayed in bed. "Dude, I just got word. The team is already on the island and identifying Sandmen. They have already found multiples. I guess it was mroe organized than I thought."

Suttenberg Commune

The day was cool and windy. The orange dirt flew into the air as yells were heard. Telescreens were being ripped apart by rambed children and mothers. Men, fathers, and young boys started grabbing rocks, farmtools, and other possible weapons to fight the department center that was located. Ashlen Suarez watched in horror and wondered what she should do.

Her shoulder acked from a led accident with the side of her car. Rushing, the car had an out-reaching led wire which poked her in the right shoulder. She had left work, as the entire department was disbanded for the time being. "Down with Big Brother!" Yelled a man who threw a pitchfork at a car that had B.B.'s face stickered on the side door, ramming through the window and probably killing the innocent man or woman inside. The car rammed off the road and into a flat where screams were heard, a family probably inside.

Chaos. She screamed in horror as a man tried to grab her and yell "Kill all in the Party!" He pulled out a switchblade, obviously one from the local blackmarket. She flung her handbag, just a soft briefcase, at his head. The uprising started out of no where, just like her bag had hit him.

The crusty man fell, knocked out from the books and papers within.

She went in and locked the door. The telescreen in her room boomed with a message "All those loyal to Big Brother, kill the Jewittists!" It just kept repeating.

She was confused and fearful, it had all happened within a few hours. First the armed gaurd who was protecting the nuclear reactor more inland was assaulted and all were killed, an air division came in with helicopters and out came men in black. They shot at the protestors (there wasn't a word for it in newspeak except doubleplusthoughtcriminal) but their numbers were too big and a stolen gun hit the pilot. The helicopter had crashed, causing a feeling that the island was being invaded. Since then neighbors were killing eachother.

No one on the island had ever seen screams of men and women and children running across the roads, an occasional person being ran over by a stray running car or a suicidal protestor, or even a helicopter crashing into a powerful building that produced all the energy for the island.

Panicing she yelled into the telescreen "Where is Big Brother now? Huh? Where is he?" She started to cry in fear. A booming noise was heard as screams from next door hit her. Protestors, or loyalists, were going door to door. Either way, she would be dead. Gun fire was heard and yells afterward. "Please, I'll do anything, I'll give my body to you, just let my boy live!" Yelled a woman's voice, one of her female neighbors she had reconized from yelling at eachother through the wall. She was a bitchy person, but she had a young boy. Her husband had left her and for beign an adulterer, he was killed in a public firing squad.

The yelling stopped as a man yelled out in some odd acsent "Strip her down!"

She knew that if she was bare that they may not shoot first, and consider possibly taking advantage of her, doing what they wanted, and leaving her to live. She paniced even more now as they yelled "Alright, clear!" She knew from old military movies she saw of Matthew's Army running into houses and clearing it of any innocents, it ment go onto the next one.

She hastingly threw off her pale white shirt, showing a darker yellow-brown skin. She did not have enough time to take her bra off as the men kicked down the thin door. They stopped and glared at her for a moment. They had black uniforms on, and an odd insignia on their left shoulder. She had never seen it before, but it resembled Engsok's insignia.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v289/Truitt/NewTruitt.png

She could tell as the men came nearer with their odd-looking futuristic guns raised that it was actually a triangle, but the threads had been ripped over years of warrying conditions.

"She's a Sandman, clear!" He dropped a necklace with a triangle as its pendent next to her and said "Put it on miss, it'll keep you alive." The two left and the sound of an other door busting down was heard next to her on the opposite room. She quickly threw the pendant on, not knowing what had happened, and tossed back on her pale shirt and went into her room, crawled up in the corner, and covered herself with her clothes, as to resemble a pile of dirty clothes. Fearful, she frightened herself to a deep sleep.

Chapter Six - "Scarlets of Passion"

A covert-started Sandman Revolution, calling themselves "The Scarlets of Passion", had begun. The nuclear reactor had on guard five guards, not a lot, but then again this was the least expected place to be infiltrated by revolution.

The revolution had gone on for a day now, and the Enzoist "Matthew's Army" was making a full prepairment for a total invasion of the island. An estimated 1,230 men were going to be deployed from an amphibious landing craft carrier, which amphibion transports would drop them off. The covert sleeper cell, nicknamed "Scarlet Wind," was to be expecting a large black market transfer of anti-tank arms and munitions for thier up-to-date Jewittist OSAR-II Rifles.

With the shipment truck just seen over a hill and disapearing into a canyon-like terrain character, on the horizon is a massive voice booming from the ocean.

The team went to grab their arms admediately and suit up. The siren voice of "All those loyal to Matthew, come to the beach" kept on repeating and repeating, it was going on now for two minutes, utter annoyance.

The team leader, 1st Lt. Jose Jalerre, pulled out his OSAR-II and pulled back the bolt, readying the clip to begin firing its twenty-two rounds. "Alright team, this is where we will make a stand! If they can't take this island, more than likely the entire chain will be notified of those unloyal and start being more brutal to their citizens. We want that. More brutality, the more reason for seperation.

"With that in mind, we must survive, leave no man behind. We are a rag-team army of some three hundred, a third of the island's population. We have barely enough guns for a quarter of that, let alone rounds for more than ten minutes' worth of fighting.

"The odds are against us, and death will more than likely come. We will be attacking an enemy with more organization, more weapons, more numbers, complete knowledge of the island, and a complete psycological effect on the people here. The odds are more than fifty-three to one. Well, we will be that one."

The team looked at him. That was not encouraging, patriotic, or even assuring. It more-or-less signed their death warrant. They were used to it, they were part of the Aoure, part of the LOST Division, they were trained for situations likes this. "We will go down to the beach, and spearhead the assault. We will attack their transports with anti-tank rounds, as to scare them into using helicopters, or we hope. This way even gun fire can damage their transports. The Scarlets of Passion must survive one more day, to allow others on other islands to rise."

The team now assured that they were risking their lives for something good enough said in unison "Hurrah!" They jumped to their feet and the truck was already near their safehouse, a small apartment that was run down. The orange dirt covered truck stopped about a meter away from the actual apartment where it started to throw guns out. Ak-47s, THSRs, P41s, all types. They had each, duct taped to their sides, two clips. That was not enough, five was not even enough. A man walked over to him, a light face with a ragged uniform. The Monkey Suit, as many called it, which symbolized an original Sandman of the island. "Generalissimo Jalerre, I bring you what you say." Said the man in a poor attempt to speak English. Jalerre nodded as men started to bring in crates full of RPG-7Gs (Rocket-Propelled Grenades - 7th Generation), non-guided rocket launchers.

He looked them all over. Each had a single rocket inside with its head poking out of the front, all painted a dark crimson red, from head to toe. "I thought I asked for guided rockets." Inquiered Jalerre as he picked up one to inspect it. "Si, but none available." Said the Monkey Suited-man. Jalerre nodded and the team began to hand out the RPG-7Gs to those who they knew knew how to fire a gun. "They are comming, we should prepair ourselves." Jalerre said looking at his team and a few stragellers from the Scarlets of Passion. "Today, scarlet shall come from Big Brother's head!" Yelled Jalerre, now the popularity-appointed leader of the opposition on the island. The crowd roared, but dared not fire a single round in the air to conserve their bullets for the invading force.

"They have outnumbered us, outstrategized us, and have shown us all as fools. But today we shall avenge your mothers, fathers, and their own ancestors! We shall be the reason that more Scarlets appear around the Communes, and we shall be the reason why Matthew himself never awakes from his sleep! Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt!" The crowd roared with him the newest chant. No longer "For Bega," but "Hail Jewitt"

Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt! Hail Jewitt!

The chant lasted until a massive missile flew from the sea and hit a building next to them. They have fired the first shot, now we shall counter!" Yeleld out Jalerre with a massive applause from the disbanded mob around him, scattering away from the rubble.

All together, they charged for the beach. RPG-7Gs first, with heavy assault rifles behind, and then marksmen rifles behind them. The beach would be a slaughter.

To be continued