Q Source: Broken


Today

Today,
The Day,
starts out as any other day.

Wake up;
put on:
suit and tie;
polished shoes.

Pick up smartphone;
read my emails.
Receive message:
3419-3782-8671-3601.
Then,
I remember everything.
That’s the signal!

Take off my clown suit.
Put on my:
combat boots;
mother-fucking khakis;
hoodie.

Pick up a large stone;
placed in a safe spot for this:
time;
day;
hour;
second;
occasion.

My long walk,
to the governor’s mansion,
The Glass House,
begins.


Mob

As I walk towards the city;
joined by others.
Patriots.
All:
dressed like me;
quiet;
focussed;
marching forward;
large stones in hand;
khakis and combat boots.

It ENDS today;
the war is OVER;
the LAST quarts of blood to be spilled.

With every block we march;
mob gets larger;
our ranks swell.
Still,
we march silently with:
focus,
energy,
and emotion;
purpose and courage;
faith.

We barely acknowledge one another:
a smile;
a raised chin;
sporadic hand shakes;
secret hand shakes;
code words.

No:
slowing down;
gloating;
cheering;
pausing.

With purpose,
our MARCH continues,
to The Glass House.


Here

At the governor’s mansion,
The Glass House,
a great multitude;
every:
race;
sex;
creed;
nationality;
region;
accent;
language;
sexual orientation;
religion.

All here as one,
demanding:
FREEDOM.
TODAY we’ll:
HAVE it;
EARN it;
PURCHASE it,
with blood.

The tree of liberty must be refreshed,
from time to time,
with the blood,
of patriots and tyrants.
Thomas Jefferson.
Remembering that quote,
silently,
I smile to myself;
others:
read my thoughts;
look at me;
smile.

The mansion’s defenders are ready for us.
Loudspeakers;
bullhorns;
riot gear;
battons;
pepper spray;
tear gas;
automatic weapons,
bayonets fixed.
“This is an illegal gathering!”
“Disperse!”
“Lay down your stones!”
“Go home!”
“We are authorized to use force!”
“This is your final warning!”
They form a phalanx.
Pound their batons on their shields to intimidate.
The mob follows behind me.
I approach the defender in charge;
no shots fired.

I motion to the mob:
“wait!”
obediently,
they halt.

Place my stone on the ground;
walk alone towards the phalanx;
eyes fixed on the defender in charge,
the lieutenant.
The lieutenant motions to the other guards;
they:
lower their weapons;
stop pounding their shields;
the noise,
from the loudspeakers and bull horns,
ceases.

Between mob and guards;
lieutenant and I greet each other:
no hand shake;
no acknowledgement from him,
that,
I’m a fellow man,
countryman,
from the same region,
same race,
probably same religion.
We see each other as enemies;
this is how the conversation begins.


Disperse

Lieutenant: “So, Eric we meet again.”

I nod acknowledgement.

Lieutenant: “I guess, I should’ve had you arrested; placed in indefinite detention. Now, look at you. This mob your doing?”

I smile; remain silent.

Lieutenant: “We allow free speech to maintain the illusion of democracy; rounding up dissenters leads to martyrdom. Failed to estimate your impact. No matter. You’re unarmed. Your mob is: unarmed; untrained; undisciplined; defenseless. When I give the word; you and this horde will be gunned down, mercilessly. Most of my men; straight out of boot camp. They’ve been given personality tests. They’ve been placed in their positions, because they will follow orders. They will shoot citizens on command; won’t think twice about it. This is what they’ve been: chosen, trained, and groomed to do. All these fine men behind me, have taken an oath of loyalty to the Constitution; to the democratically elected governor, inside this mansion. They will: follow orders! kill every last one of you, without regret or remorse. Disperse! Tell your mob to go home. We don’t need a blood-bath today.”

I smile; say nothing.

Lieutenant: “Disperse! Go home! I’ll use my influence to keep you alive; out of prison; You have my word.”

I chuckle to myself.

Lieutenant: “What’s so funny?

Eric: “You finished?” Was that a question, or, statement of fact?

Lieutenant: “That depends. Are you convinced to: disperseGo home?”

I gaze upon the governor’s mansion,
The Glass House:
a gleaming,
ultra-modern structure,
reflecting sunlight in complex angles,
magnificent.
Most impressive structure still standing,
after Day One.
Fit for a:
king;
tyrant;
traitor.
They spared no expense in building it.
Proudly,
it stands above all other structures in the area.
The structure itself,
seems to boldly proclaim:
“I’m unassailable!”
Its glass construction an exclamation point;
a statement;
a metaphor,
to their arrogance.
It seems to say:
“We can do whatever we want,
because,
we control what matters:
the press;
the hearts and minds of the masses;
the information;
the guns.
We:
count the votes;
make the polls;
tell you what public opinion is.

My heart wells up with anger, remembering Day One–


Day One

On Day One,
I’m living in Beaverton,
Oregon.

A day,
just like any other;
typical Monday.
Running late for work;
alarm fails to go off.

Should’ve been:
stuck in traffic;
listening to the radio;
trapped in car;
downtown Portland;
vaporized.
But,
I wasn’t;
I was fucking late for work.
Earth shakes;
knocks me to the ground.
Outside;
blinding flashes;
Portland’s gone.
My friends at work:
gone.

Phone;
cable;
radio;
electricity;
water;
out.

Take off my clown suit.
Put on my:
combat boots;
mother-fucking khakis;
hoodie.

Grab my:
shotgun;
Glock nine;
ammunition;
camping supplies;
tackle box.

Run to my car;
won’t start.

Look down the street;
no cars start.

EMP.

Run back to house;
lighten load.
Grab:
sleeping bag;
freeze dried food;
water jugs;
backpack;
rope;
string;
kitchen gear;
two-man tent;
night-vision goggles;
thirty-aught-six;
Glock;
hatchet;
compass;
lighter.

Head due north,
destination:
Sturgeon Lake.
Fish;
fowl;
game;
trees.
Hide there till shit dies down.

Sky fills with Alien spacecraft;
beams of energy rain down,
sound:
vvvvvvvvv-kaw! vvvvvvvv-kaw!
voraciously,
vividly,
vigorously,
vaporizing,
victims-

Charred remains,
litter my path;
smells:
burnt death,
ozone,
from plasma-heated air.

Sounds of:
boiling blood;
orphaned children’s screams;
popping eyeballs.

Stay hidden;
not moving unless coast is clear.

Ground patrol;
two Alien Grays rounding up prisoners;
aim;
in crosshairs;
breathe;
rifle bouncing slowly up and down;
squeeze trigger;
fire;
bullet deflects off Gray energy-shield.

Grays look up at me;
surround me;
point device at me:
FLASH!
That’s all I remember.


The Belt

Wake up in Alien-Gray labor-camp;
FEED THE BELT!
becomes my:
life;
raison d’être.

Day One is over;
it is finished.

We,
the survivors,
FEED THE BELT.

Place anything on THE BELT:
trees;
bodies;
dirt;
rocks;
grass.

THE BELT supplies a giant furnace,
miles away;
taking material on THE BELT;
converting it into the Gray’s needs.

INPUT:
water;
organic matter;
minerals;
trash;
etc–
OUTPUT:
energy;
food;
plastic;
steel;
ammunition;
rail guns;
shields;
propaganda;
etc–

BRANDED on my forehead;
forbidden from speaking,
during working hours;
surrounded by men,
women,
children.
Orders:
FEED THE BELT!

Dig;
chop;
chainsaw;
bulldoze;
hoist;
heave;
haul;
push;
pull.
Tons of raw material placed on THE BELT,
every second.

Ten hours a day,
labor;
7 days a week.

When I have a question,
look up;
SCREENS tell me what to do.

When one of us passes out from exhaustion,
or dies;
they’re thrown on THE BELT,
with the rest of the material.

In front of me LIFE:
trees;
grass;
birds–
Behind me:
THE BELT leading to the furnace;
our mobile living-quarters;
DESOLATION.

Upon awakening,
we look forward to the living horizon,
ignoring dead trenches behind us.
EARTH is being STRIP-MINED;
converted into Gray raw-material.
Every:
useful;
living;
or,
green thing–
EVERYTHING that can be:
chopped;
shoveled;
or,
ground:
placed on THE BELT.

After 10 hours of labor:
doors to our living-quarters open.
Inside:
eat;
socialize;
fuck;
sleep.
A SPARTAN existence.

Never cold or hungry.
It:
never rains;
is always 75 degrees and sunny.
Rain and clouds burned away,
by an energy shield,
following our camp,
along with mobile living-quarters.
Grays encourage BREEDING.
All women,
of child-bearing age:
pregnant.
Women refusing to breed:
thrown on THE BELT.

SCREENS tell us:
work!
Be happy;
don’t ask questions;
breed;
we comply.

ROCK MUSIC:
playing from the loudspeakers.

Grays:
don’t talk to us;
communicate with one another,
telepathically.
Our only communication with Grays:
orders appearing on SCREENS.

This is what has become of man:
FEED THE BELT!
BE HAPPY!
DON’T ASK QUESTIONS!
BREED!
We do.

Fast asleep on day 45;
man wakes me up:
‘follow me if you want to LIVE.’
He jumps back through a hole in my floor;
I follow.

Crawling,
an underground tunnel,
1 hour.
Marching,
with thousands of other branded:
men,
women,
children,
briskly,
24 hours straight.
Large group gathers;
huge cave,
rain forests of Oregon,
behind a waterfall;
somewhere,
Columbia River Gorge.


Joe

Joe’s a small man;
deep voice;
large scar across face.
Joe: You’re HERE because
YOU’VE BEEN SUMMONED.
Right now;
a choice:
go back to THE BELT,
or,
join the Furai.

YOU’VE BEEN FREED FROM THE BELT;
RIGHT NOW;
THIS MOMENT.
JOIN US!

Learn to:
FIGHT;
acquire wealth;
build an ARMY;
organize;
communicate in secret;
gather intelligence;
infiltrate;
lead an army;
send these evil-fucking-bastards back to hell!

We’re NOT an army of FOLLOWERS;
a hive mind of automatons.
We’re a HYDRA;
a multi-headed monster from greek mythology;
if an attacker strikes one head,
four heads attack the attacker.
If a head is cut off;
two more grow in its place.

When GOD made man;
He created a WEAPON.
This GALAXY belongs to MAN!
JOIN US.’


Traitors

I look:
away from The Glass House;
into the lieutenant’s eyes.
Eric: “You know:
the occupants of The Glass House are traitors;
bought and paid for by the enemy.

The population under mind control from SCREENS with their:
talking heads;
right and left-wing pundits pretending to debate.
Phony:
news;
politicians;
political races;
public opinion polls;
elections;
manufactured distractions:
sex scandals;
manufactured celebreties.
You know the truth;
still you defend them?
Men,
who allowed our fellow countrymen to be murdered on that Day.”

Lieutenant: “We’ve had this conversation before.”

Eric:  “I know we have.”

Lieutenant: “I’ve pledged to defend the Constitution;
The Governor is the Constitution;
the media is the Constitution.”

Eric: “The Governor was elected by no one:
a puppet;
a stage performer;
an actor.
He was placed there by the real powers of this Earth.
There is no fucking Constitution!
Our Constitution died the day those buildings fell.”

Lieutenant: “Yes,
I know the truth;
I have chosen sides.
Feel better?”

Conscience is clear;
at least now you admitted it.
The lieutenant attempts to:
look me in my eyes;
get me to respond.
It’s not yet time.

I look at my shoes.
Make eye contact,
for the first time,
with Jacob,
my second in command.


Meeting

Eric:The Day is fast approaching;
The Emperor’s sent word.”

Jacob: “As your second in command,
it’s good you finally told me.
When is The Day?”

Eric: “That,
I don’t know;
soon;
vengeance is coming.”

Jacob: “Should I tell the men?”

Eric: “Yes.
Tell them:
be ready;
soon we’ll rise;
worldwide;
smash the glass houses;
kill the traitors;
every last fucking one.”


Training

Run every day,
rugged terrain,
in The Gorge;
lift weights;
hit heavy bag;
eat high-protein diet;
study in the dojo;
learn Furai teachings;
practice;
absorb.

Self improvement;
philosophy;
majik;
hypnosis;
fealty;
sales;
entrepreneurship;
economics;
capitalism;
freedom;
warfare;
infiltration;
command;
intelligence;
strategy;
many other things–
Honed into a weapon of vast destructive power.

Not:
carbon;
nor iron;
hard;
nor soft;
rigid;
nor pliable.
A new substance:
STEEL.

Given a title:
I am Furai!


Fealty

I recite the pledge:
“I am Furai today and forever!
Long Live the Furai!
Long Live Our Empire!
Long Live Our Emperor!”

Choose my mentor;
receive my mission.


Orders

Become one of them,
but better,
work;
earn the admiration of your peers;
build a wolf pack.

Find a need.
Create a:
niche;
product.

Craft business plan.

Seek investors, patrons etc.

Make something from nothing.

Win your freedom.

Then:
infiltrate;
gather forces.
Find those that are worthy:
mentor;
teach what you’ve learned.
Assemble army;
collect intelligence;
form tentacles.

You’re an Army;
a hot coal.
One hot coal turns a whole pile of black-coal:
white.

Placed in a corporation:
you’ll own the corporation.

Placed in prison:
you’ll own the prison.

Placed in an army:
you’ll own the army.

We’re sending you to the capital city:
own it!
Gather your forces for The Day.


Burn

Smuggled into the Capital City,
home of The Glass House.
New identity.

First act of rebellion:
juvenile;
wrote:
‘read the Furai Compilation’ on a bathroom wall with a sharpie.

Second act,
more sophisticated:
created anonymous online-profile;
posted my true thoughts;
sent emails to all my friends,
anonymously.

Our ranks swelled;
tentacles extended;
face-to-face conversations;
meeting with patrons and investors.

Finally,
the army was fashioned.


 Lessons


Leverage

From The Furai Warfighting Manual

I prefer no bloodshed, always. Bloodshed always leads to NEW enemies. When you kill a man, you create enemies–it’s unavoidable. Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, friends, children, grandchildren– Supreme conquest comes from persuading your enemy, through appropriate leverage, to join forces with you rather than fight.

Almost anyone can be persuaded through leverage.

It’s better to capture an enemy intact, than destroy him. Capture a city intact, than destroy it. Capture an organization intact, than destroy it. Capture a nation intact, than destroy it. Through infiltration and intelligence, we learn what the enemy values; what they treasure and cherish. Convincing our enemy we control not just their lives, but the lives of their loved ones, we gain leverage; create a willing or unwilling ally.

When THIS is impossible: make the enemy impotent.


Impotence

Some enemies are untouchable; outside our sphere of influence. They can’t be leveraged. With men such as these, it’s better to find their agents and apply leverage on them. The following pattern emerges: The Enemy gives an order–>Their agent receives it, contacts us, then follows order if we give the OK. Infiltrate THEIR agents; make them OUR agents. When the time comes, at the most crucial time, it will be OUR orders that are followed; not theirs.

Only those who refuse to join us, key agents who refuse to join us, THEY will be expunged from Earth.


Weakest Link

There’s always a weakness to be exploited–when it’s discovered, concentrate your energy there. For individuals: Tendencies, character flaws or strengths, all: present opportunity.

Some individuals are of poor temperament–Irritate them; make them angry, enraged.

Proud–Feed this pride, or hurt it, either can be effective.

Fearless–Encourage them to be foolhardy.

Intelligent–Feed them bad data, lead them to the wrong conclusion.

Cowardly–Frighten them.

Jealous, Envious, Greedy–Entice them, tempt them with what they desire.

For Groups–Find the highest-level agent, who can be bent to your will. When they are yours, use them at the appropriate time, for the appropriate task.


Time

Cell phone vibrates.
Worldwide; all pieces in place.
I look at my cell phone,
remembering the numbers: 3419-3782-8671-3601–
The Alien Grays have been defeated in space;
now,
their puppets will be removed from their glass houses.

I look towards the phalanx for my man,
the lieutenant’s second in command.
We make eye contact;
he nods his head,
nonverbally stating to me:
‘I’m ready;
give the order.’


Infiltration

A few months ago,
met with the lieutenant’s second in command–
a bar,
less than a mile away from The Glass House.

Eric: “You fear them?
We:
do all the fucking work!
create all the inventions!
guard them while they steal from us.
The Day of our freedom is approaching;
we don’t need them!”
There he:
pledged fealty to me;
became Furai.


Now

I nod my head:
THE TIME IS NOW!
Unspoken order obeyed,
without hesitation.

The phalanx opens up.
The lieutenant,
sensing betrayal;
reaches for his weapon.
His:
hand nears his holster,
head explodes;
brains cover me.
Shot by the men,
he supposedly commanded:
his men?
My men!

Guards lower their weapons;
mob races forward towards The Glass House, stones in hand.

Glass shattering a beautiful sound. Trampling broken glass, like human BONDAGE–our ENSLAVEMENT, NOW, FOREVER BROKEN.

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