“You must recognize that, being born into a society that is harmful to us, we rebels are in reality the best slaves. Being slaves of evolution, by means of our sacrifice, we allow humanity to take a tiny step…
The people are conservative: they are satisfied with the society they find. The minority are innovators instead and therefore they rebel. The mass restrains revolutionary action with its brute weight and submits it to it.
It grows accustomed to the new state of things. It rots there until the minority rebels once again.
And do I have to suffer through this entire balancing act?”
– Bruno Fillipi, “The Rebel’s Dark Laughter”
This story has no real beginning for the same reason it has no ending. It’s still happening.
I had almost killed someone the night before and was nervously drinking my coffee when I noticed facebook was hiding my articles.
“Slithering fucking weasels! Miserable pieces of SHIT! I wish I could get my hands around these little bastards and just squeeeeeeze until their eyeballs POP out!”
“Who?” My wife was stepping out of the shower, drying her hair.
“Goddamn facebook! They’re-“
“Did we wash my uniform?”
“-throttling my views! What? Uh..yes. They’re downstairs.”
“What were you were saying?”
“Well its…ever since that article about gun control went viral my posts are being hidden. Look at this: a weekly reach of 68,000 people but only three people see this one? Two people here? Its bullshit! Somebody wrote me today saying everytime they try to post my articles it gets flagged as spam.”
“Maybe they think you’re a conservative?”
“With a hammer and sickle on my face?” She paused for a moment, grabbing her toothbrush.
“Didn’t you say twitter was purging accounts?”
“Yes and people are cheering it on, as if a gigantic capitalist corporation is somehow working for them. This, this is just like the hate speech laws. Remember that? When all these ‘Anarchists’ were saying we needed laws like in Germany and France? And what happened? What fucking happened? Turned out NATO considers the Anarchist ‘A’ a hate symbol. This is exactly why I’m a fucking Egoist.”
I was in no mood to watch the news, no desire to focus on anything besides card readings for clients and the ever-distant goal of some day owning my own fortified swamp compound. Trouble was everywhere, and having my dead and immobile jeep broken into the night before was not helping me calm down. There was this desperate sense pervading the air, seeping into my skin, that time itself was tightening. Some unseen clock had ticked forward and some unforseen judgement dripped closer with each passing day. But what kind? And from who?
“They act as if this is something new,” I told my wife as I passed her a mug, “that it isn’t something fundamentally American to go into a public place and murder as many people as possible. So hopped up on theory they won’t acknowledge the darkness. I’m tired of all this. Tired of being plugged in. I said what I needed to and I don’t plan on writing about it anymore, at least until the next Point of No Return. For now we need to watch.”
She blew on the coffee. “Watch for what?”
“Well…to gauge the times. This whole thing is running right at Maslow’s Hierarchy of needs, right at the base of the pyramid. People are being put under alot of emotional and mental stress. This is when true colors fly. The Leftist tradition states that the people are inherently liberatory, that given the chance they’ll work for the common good and advance towards freedom.”
“And the Egoist?”
“Heh.” I set down my coffee cup, running my finger around the edge. “I suppose the Egoist position would be based on…well I wouldn’t call the people reactionary. The poet Bruno Fillipi had alot to say about them. He believed that, on the whole, revolutionaries did move society around somewhat. But that the people usually ended up killing them. The innovators, the rebels, most people are fine with them up to a point. But most people don’t want change. They don’t desire any ideology or high flying ideals. What they really want is security, safety, food. Comfort. Its when that comfort gets threatened….”
The coffee mug toppled off the table and into the carpet.
“I got it.”
“No no, I’ll wipe it up.”
I went into the bathroom, grabbing a towel. By the time I was back in the room my wife was flicking through the channels. It was then, right then, that I saw what appeared to be some kind of mobile corpse with its skin stretched too tight on the tv screen, a strange creature vaguely attempting to be human.
“Who…what the fuck is that?”
“The NRA is giving some kind of speech. You want to watch it?”
“Yeah. Turn it up.”
“…they hate the NRA, they hate the second amendment, they hate individual freedom. In the rush of calls for more government they have revealed their true selves.”
It was NRA CEO Wayne LaPierre, a ghastly looking figure resembling some kind of white fish with its hair pulled back. LaPierre, head of the NRA since 1991, had cemented the organization as a full blown cultural force. Whatever he planned on saying would have deep implications.
The gun-control crowd thinks the NRA is merely a lobbying organization, a gang of lawyers hidden in hallways waiting to pounce on otherwise nice Republicans and turn them into gun-toting mercenaries.
The truth however is much worse….