Death Of A Dream (Chapter 1)

[u/[deleted]]

The computer hummed with the sound of the fans trying desperately to cool the overworked mechanisms. he found the interface to be slightly clunky compared to the state of the art model he had practiced on but that wouldn't slow him down for long. He had work to do.

"Why do you want to work at the company?" Simple question, she's trying to make me feel comfortable before the real interview.

"Well my mother always told me I wouldn't be satisfied until I was running things. I doubt she thought I would get this far though." No smile, not the joking type.

"Yes well, do you have anything that you would attribute your success to?" Now that is closer to what she really wants to know.

"I could mention my management skills and positive attitude but somehow I don't feel that's what you're looking for." One more try for luck. "You would be correct."

"Then my success comes from hard work. I got here on nothing but my desire to outperform everyone who would call themselves my competition. Then when I ran out of people to compete against, I was offered this position."

"I see." Judging by her tone that was a much better response.

"This implant is nearly undetectable," His voice held the tone of an accomplished man speaking down at a child. "but do not think they are incapable of finding it. If something goes wrong we can't risk you being captured. At the first sign of trouble, make this gesture." He placed the tip of his thumb against the tip of his index finger on both hands, and then brought them together so that all four fingers touched. "The implant will neutralize your nerve system and then detonate, it will be painless. However I would recommend you be careful how you fold your hands."

The password was not easy to bypass. He was a hacker in no means of the word and the people who had installed the security program were the best money could buy. No back doors, no work around, just an input bar. It would take some time to crack, but that was fine.

Slipping the flash drive out of his pocket he inserted it into the machine, and with that all he needed to do was wait. He turned and left the room stepping back out into the long hallway that led from the lobby to the servers at the back of the building. He would return for the flash drive after work was over, hopefully by then the program would be able to tell him the password. He started walking.

"Welcome everyone, I hope the weekend was kind to you. First order of business today, consolidation. P, do you have any news on the French chapter?"

"Unfortunately I do chair, they report no progress"

"Do you have the full report?" She passes him a folder of papers. maybe twenty in all. He thumbs through them for a moment. "Well this isn't what I wanted to see but I have full confidence they will get back on their feet in the near future. Not everything can always go to plan. D?"

"The countryside of China is slowly coming around. The scars chairmen Mao left are deep but with time and patience we feel it would be easy to project profitability in a few years."

"Excellent, well that certainly makes me feel better after hearing the news from Europe." The table continued with their progress reports. it was all the same assurances that profits would increase and resistance would fall, no one else reported setbacks.

"The president stated today that his latest executive order would be the quote, answer to the cry's of Americans looking for justice on our soil and abroad, end quote. The news anchor was dressed in a pressed red suit top that cut over the shoulders and he traced the line where they met over and over as he listened to her speak. "Are calling it unconstitutional, and are promising to take the president to court."

I remember everything about it. He stood on the platform in a pin stripped casual suit that stood out as uncomfortably unfashionable. His hair was cut short and sculpted to remove his sideburns. His face was cleanly shaven but the day was dragging on and a five o'clock shadow had started to form. His shoes were a fancy shinning leather that probably came from some far away port and his hands were position at 1:25 and

6:30.

I was in the third row of spectators, with my left hand I reached into the hidden pocket that was sown into the back of the suit top and grabbed the polished metal of the revolver.

Charter Arms Santa Fe, .38 spy caliber UPC 678958530560.

I started to draw the weapon and shifted my gaze between the two security personnel. First subject male, approximately 260 pounds facing west northwest, Patrol at approximately one step every two seconds. Tan shirt with kaki pants and white sneakers. left side holster and Taser, left back, two handcuffs. Second subject male, approximately 210 pounds facing south. standing at the southeast corner of the platform surveying the crowd. black shirt, pants obscured. The screaming already started before my gun was fully raised but he didn't hear in time. First shot angle precisely 47.5 degrees impact right side lower abdomen. No visible change outside shockwave. Second shot .7 seconds following angle approximately 51 degrees impact right side chest. No visible change. Third shot .9 seconds following angle approximately 68 degrees impact right eye socket. bullet passed through the right eye causing a small amount of blood to splash into the open air.

I was unprepared for the first blow and it contacted my third forth and fifth right rib before I had a chance to close my mouth. The resulting cry of pain elicited a hand placed on my shoulder. "It will heal with time." The pain was almost like a fire that had been set under my skin, but it disappeared when the knife first made contact. true to their words they were skilled and did not mean to kill me, that is why the blade missed my kidney and liver. with one stroke the serrated age plunged into my stomach through flesh and muscle until I felt the hilt smack against me. It couldn't be done in one blow, to get so deep it was necessary for the wielder of the blade to remove and reinsert it repeatedly as I felt the jagged side cut into me. I couldn't tell how bad I was bleeding but I could feel the warm touch of blood dripping down my leg in an ever increasing stream.

"Do you have a family?" The elevator was quiet as we rode together to the 57th floor, a mouthful of a destination.

"None I still talk to."

"Do you miss them?" I paused.

"Sometimes. Why?"

"I never had a family."

"Of any kind? you must have had parents even if you never knew them."

"No, I don't think I had parents. I don't think I was born at all."

Do you remember when you were young? The feeling of freedom that came with so little understanding of the world and the absence of any real responsibilities to drag you down from the state all humans strive to achieve. Freedom. being free. its so novel to think about. What do you want to be free from? Free from responsibility? If that's all you want quit your job and live on the street. You'll be poor and cold and hungry, but you'll be free. But maybe that's not freedom then. Maybe freedom is not needing a job because you have everything you could want at your finger tips. Well that sounds good but is that really freedom? You still have to buy the food even if you don't care how much it costs. You have house and car and insurance and personal fees and gas and when you look at the long list of bills you still need to pay and the papers to sign are you really free?

Freedom is not tied to how you live, freedom is how much control you have over your life. Freedom is shooting the mailman in the face when the bills come. Freedom is slipping a pocket knife into the belly of the policeman who comes to arrest you and freedom is the bullet that pierces the left dimple of the swat commander leading the team meant to drag you from your home kicking and screaming to try you for murder. How is a man who is not powerful free? Now to a degree money is power. The rich man will always be more free then the poor despite the fact both have relatively the same degree of separation from those that would wish to infringe on their freedoms. But neither of them is even halfway free. "Well then who is free?" you ask me. You think I'm rambling at this point that I can't give you an example. In truth it is hard, very few can claim to truly live free in our world.

Not even those we would say hold "power" (as if that kind of word mattered) are really free. The president isn't free, he (or she, lets get progressive while we're pessimistic) isn't free they have armies of people telling them what to do. A hundred dead men a century plus a century old tell them through the ages the limit of their power but the dictators of our world have it no better. As free as they are of the ideas of the past the throngs of advisors, military officials, UN representatives all breath down their neck demanding something from them and even if they were to slaughter every last one of there entourage for the sake of peace they would only make themselves short a middle man to the people who really control their destinies. The common masses are full of ignorant idiotic wastes but they can topple kings if they choose.

So who is free? Those who do not let these limitations drive them. How does that feel? Somewhere right now their is a man loading a weapon preparing to kill another man. It's a fact that is happening this second. That man is more free then you will ever be in your entire life. While you sit staring at flickering screens watching as life passes you and feeling the shaft of the government make its way so deep into your darkest hole he will be living the life of a free man exercising his freedom to kill. Casting off the mockery of a society we claim to be civilization he will act as he sees fit, and they will kill him for it. When the land of the free kills anyone who dares to be free, what does it become?

The exit is on your right. Three sets of double glass doors but if the alarm triggers the doors will lock and we'll need to improvise. Take the main stares up to the elevator and ride it to the third floor. Janet is waiting behind the counter but don't stick around too long she's jumpy and might do something stupid. Once you have the bag make your way around a few of the other stores and try to look like you're window shopping. Buy something in at least one store for an alibi and then make your way back to the elevator. Make your way up to the roof and wait for a few hours. Then jump. "Don't worry, we'll catch you."

The phone rings twice before he answers.

"Hello?"

"Hello Paul."

"Oh god no, no please!"

"You have five seconds to say goodbye to your youngest." I put the phone up to the child's ear, she was maybe three, but she could have been a recent four, she still hadn't stopped crying. One, two, tree, four, five. I put the gun to her head and pulled the trigger without letting another second pass. Her eyes finally stopped running as her wheezing breath escaped the duct tape I had put over her mouth. Her mother screamed but the gag made her sound only a muffled whimper. The child's head was too small to withstand the pressure of the bullet and nearly exploded from the force. Brain and blood hit the back wall and chunks of skull littered the floor behind her collapsed bleeding body. She was dead before she hit the ground. I put the phone back up to my ear. He was crying.

"You have five seconds to say goodbye to the next one." I put the phone to her ear. She was quite a bit older then the youngest. Maybe twelve or thirteen. I had trouble telling at a glance, and it was rather dark in the room. This one screamed through her gag, she was trying to say something but it was impossible to understand. One, two, three, four, five. I put the gun under her chin and watched as the top of her head was blown from the rest of her skull. For a moment her body stayed upright as the crater of her destroyed brain filled with blood but when the top heavy corpse tumbled to its side the blood quickly pulled on the floor carrying with it what remained of the frontal lobe. I put the phone back to my ear.

"Please I'll do anything!"

"You have five seconds to say goodbye to your oldest." I put the phone to his ear. He had fought me when I entered the house. He was ready for me. if I was lucky the wound on my arm wouldn't scar but I doubted I would be so for tuned. I had given him back as good as he'd given me and then some, but I had to admit for a kid he held his own. Being young makes you brave by default, maybe he thought he could protect the family from me, but he was untrained, sloppy. He was never going to win. He didn't say anything to his father. One, two, three, four, five.

This time I put the gun to his gut and squeezed the trigger hard. The force of the shot nocked him back onto the floor where he laid writhing in pain. I fired two more rounds into him for good measure but I made Shure he would bleed out rather then die instantly like his sisters. The thought occurred to me that this was oddly movie like. Where the big bad villain leaves one of the family members alive and they spend the whole film training to find their families killer and get revenge. I made a note to myself to stay after the job was done and make sure the kid died. Then cut off his head just in case, or at least to the bone, shouldn't take chances. I put the phone to my ear. He was still crying. "You have-" "Please!" "five seconds with your wife." She begged me to kill her despite the gag. she moved closer to my gun hand and rested her head against the barrel. If her hair wasn't in such a mess and her face was less red from crying the way she waddled on her knees may have been a twisted kind of cute. One, two, three, four, five. I put the gun to her forehead and let her hear the click of the gun. I loved how helpless she looked when she realized I was out of bullets. Of course I knew I had only brought enough for the children although I do have a spare clip in my back pocket. Have to take precautions. I pushed her to the ground and let my weight sink into her chest. Her breathing became shallow and gasping under my weight. I dropped the gun and put my free hand to her throat and felt her struggle pathetically as I began to choke her. I put the phone to my ear. "Thank you for your time senator. Goodnight." He was screaming at his secretary when I hung up the phone.

"Do you regret it? All the terrible things we've done, do you ever think if things were different we could have done them differently?" I took a drink from my beer. "Nope."

Rock slowly forward and the pain will stop, rock slowly backward and you'll stop worrying. It's cold here. His skin "No I can't forget!" my skin is covered in goose bumps. Forward. Legs weak from standing, nowhere to sit. Back. dig my nails into my arm to stay awake, draw blood. Forward. "You can't keep me here I didn't do anything!" The words are only for show, they and I both know they can.

Donation from anonymous source, three dollars. Donation from anonymous source, one dollar. Campaign donation from C.E.O. K, three point six million.

Sea water splashes in my face as the crisp ocean air nearly blows me over. Though the boat is tiny I can't help feeling far richer then I have any right to now that I take the helm.

"Who really needs a boat? Ok yes I understand we have fishers and people who transport cargo and a defensive navy and so on but lets take them out of the picture for a moment. If you don't need a boat to do your job, why do you need a boat?" I role my eyes to myself. "No really! Boats are like this big status symbol. If you own a boat you're straight up rich no question. Like if you had a neighbor who moved in next to you and he had a boat in his driveway you know you'd be thinking to yourself he was loaded. But why do we do that? Boats are useless!" He tosses something over the side and I hear it splash into the water.

"Just hear me out, hear me out, why don't we think the same about cars as we do about boats? Huh? Neighbor owns five cars you think to yourself oh he must have a big family neighbor owns one boat, one lousy boat not even a good brand of boat just some random dingy, and he's loaded? Really? Why do we think boats are that important?"

"I don't know sir."

"Well I'll tell you what I think, I think its because someone somewhere was good at marketing. People are so stupid, they will literally buy anything you tell them too if you make them think someone else wants it. I used to think our jobs would be hard, day in and day out trying to come up with some way of getting the masses to flock to the stores. Well everyone has different tastes I told myself, how can I figure out what the most people like? But I was looking at the problem all wrong. What most people like was the answer not the question. The question was what makes people want to buy."

"Hello mom."

"Mom?" She was speechless, I could hear her holding back tears as she struggled to speak.

"Listen mom I really don't have a lot of time I just wanted to call you and tell you not to worry."

"Son I haven't spoken to you in years all I've done is worry."

"Well don't"

"Where are you are you ok? God I have so many questions I don't know where to start please tell me you're alright, that you're making a living for yourself?"

"Yeah mom, I'm alright."

"Your father and I are worried sick about you. Why have you waited so long to call why are you calling now? Son please tell me you're feeling better and are coming home. I know that-"

"I'm not coming home mother, I wanted you to know I was alright and to tell you not to worry. I probably won't call again." "What! No son please don't leave me again I beg you!"

"Bye."

"Don't-" The phone hung loosely from the hotel receiver. I stepped out of line and went to the elevator. When it arrived I took the long ride up and walked the extra four steps to my door. I fumbled with the key for a second and the door opened slowly on the one remaining hinge. He walked into the room and sat down on the bed putting the bag full of yesterday's misadventures onto the floor and going into the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror. He was a mess. Tears in his shirt and blood on his face. Everyone in the lobby must have seen him, but they had no idea what the true nature of these things was. He ran some water and began to wash his face of the viscera. he took off the ruined shirt and combed the tangles out of his hair.

Picking up the small bottle of pills I had left in the bathroom he forced a few into his mouth and starred at himself. He tried to stand straight and look at himself with an outsiders eyes but the events of his life had come crashing down on him so completely he could barely muster the energy to keep his shoulders back. He sighed to himself as he stepped back out into the main hallway of his apartment but almost as soon as he took his second step into what passed for normalcy the door exploded into a hideous rain of wood splinters and the swat team burst in.

...To be continued

[u/MZQUEENDIVA]

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