On the Wings of Hope: Prose

World on the horizon

That was disgusting. Nay, that was terrible. Only four hours after “officially legislatively approved dates of time of rest” has passed, and all shops have been closed. Not a single one from those necessary to him worked so early… or late – whatever is proper to each one… Damn!

He needed one shop… just a single shop, trading the necessary stuff. All those twenty ones familiar to him, which he has flown by on fly-car, “have been closed due to the upcoming professional holiday of sexual minorities in accordance with the official decree of the capital's mayor”. All of them!

Damn!

Such legislative citizens… such angels. Wolves in the sheepskins. Three out of twenty of these downtown-shops traded dreamcatcher, nineteen out of twenty traded “kayfan”, ten out of twenty – “lisben”. It's, of course, the informal statistics – according to official reports, contained in the central database of the State Department, everything was clear. Crystal-clear. Too clear to be the truth.

And these are those, who should in every possible way to “help and assist in every manner” of preservation of citizens' health… wolves in sheepskins.

And yet that very dreamcatcher has been forbidden for application, manufacturing or any use in the collateral purposes in all state's territory. The strongest possible drug, made about five years ago as a by-product of some super confidential research of scientific laboratories of Pharmaceuticals United, it was capable to change human's brain completely. Not some weak hallucinogen – it completely changed person's vision of his surroundings after the injection of only one milligram into the blood. It was, actually, nicknamed as such, “a dream catcher” – all deep layers of human's subconsciousness were revived, ten, twenty, the thirty-years-old memory came to life – all in one instant, all like a raging stream… and this was even better than VR – for no additional equipment was necessary anymore, no electrodes… human's brain could do everything – it was simply necessary to aid a little.

Who of us did not dream? And dreams of how many did come to life? This devil's drug made this possibility absolute – and you have been living through all your twenty, thirty, or forty years in these several days… in the world of your illusions, though, but was this really important? All your dreams came true – all those, provided by deep memory. And approximately a month later a human died – his brain was simply “burnt down”. The brain simply did not survive.

Really, that was a very fascinating death. To die, feeling with the rest of your fading consciousness, that you are happy – for you are fulfilled. For your dreams – here they are, all in front of you, – all came to life, and who the hell cares what sort of dreams were these. To die with a blissful smile on your face…

It was supposed to be given to dying people, whose chances of survival were equal to zero. But they have miscalculated. Two-three percent of the state's population died of its usage annually – and they were not doomed. Fifty percent of these ones were not even thirty years old…

And then they sounded the alarm. And then they have published their decrees. And then they have mobilized that Liberty Security State Police Department… late. Too late.

“The love has come – die, love, oh damn!” – a phrase from the recently seen interactive movie has emerged from subconsciousness. Yet this love lived on. And internal security service could no nothing.

It's like a plague, like a pestilence – it will not stop until almost all are left dead. And these were just the florets.

***

Almost an hour has passed since the moment of the begging of his searches – and he has not even found a single shop, trading in preparations, lowering level of testosterone, adrenaline and related hormones in blood – something, that could save his body when a radio channel's video stream of information will be transmitted to his neuro-pulse helmet – information, of whose “content's purity” he has ceased to dream a long time ago. To rescue his body at the very least… he had no more hopes of rescuing his soul.

And all of this is just by a holiday of sexual minorities.

How have you thought it over… how predicted. Sexual minorities… oh, sure! Real orgies will take place there, and not only those of minorities. And there have been no signs of any “contraceptive toolkit” for two years already after the publishing of resolution “Of the termination of distribution of contraceptives and preparations with purposes of increasing of birth rate in the country” of our oh-so-beloved president.

Still hoping to compensate natural losses, aye? Two percent of “dreamcatchers”, one percent of the military men, one percent of the “accidents”, a half percent of murders, the one-third of a percent of “unidentified deaths”, the one-sixth of a percent of those, who nevertheless has not managed to emigrate away from here… and this is not the full list by any means.

You will not recover that way – your disease has gone too far. You are too sick to become healthy once again. And those who understand cannot tell it anymore – for the global Mass Media Interactive Network is not for them anymore… never was for them. Only for the government, only for multinational corporations under their “giving hand”. And you could even participate in all this – take, for instance, that interactive sex-orgies that will be broadcasted on all channels “with a purpose of familiarizing of the population with sexual culture and stimulation of natural needs of men and women”.

What idiot has issued this resolution?!… even its name is idiotic. Bless you, it surely must have been a big person – too big to “stimulate his natural needs” together with mad people crowds in the upcoming day…

Never forget a hand that feeds you… providers of Mass Media content did not forget.

A chip on the right hand has emitted a high-frequency sound impulse and has confirmed it with a predefined sequence of IR-signals.

Damn! This was dangerous! This means that he has left the edge of his quadrant in today's night patrol. This means that after ten minutes this very chip, built into his left hand, – and now also serving as universal bio-passport, such a “smart-human-card” in a miniature, – will send a series of radio signals in Liberty Security State Police Headquarters – his “native home” of sorts – only a series of radio signals which will be retranslated through the governmental stations. Informational stream, ciphered by the newest cryptographic invention SSC-51200, in which numerical postfix also designated length of a key…

Only a series of radio signals… and he will be up to the neck in problems. The internal security service disliked it very much when its employees did not execute orders.

It was necessary to come back. He was not in time.

This means, that once again he has to writhe from pain, resisting his body's desires, when video streaming will begin. This means, that once again he has to try to close his eyes – only to receive painful discharges from this damn multifunctional Security State Police Department VMSS helmet – having no possibility to remove it – because as soon as a signal with the information on the scanned retina of his eye will not be transmitted – he's a criminal. This means that he should die once again.

Almost like those dreamcatchers – almost with a blissful smile on his lips… almost happy.

“You've chosen the way.

And you've become prey.

Forgotten you have paradise,

And thus received thy hellish prize.

Yes, it was you who've rolled the dice…” – it seems, that such stanza of some newly born poet he has recently seen in still free part of the Net. It seems, the author called it “Appeal to the human”. And he is so damn right in something…

To look for him, maybe… a brother in arms by misfortune… the derelict of this world… Heck, to find… this one must have already joined the Underground Resistance Force – and thus became impossible to be found. For ten years his department was engaged in searches of these insurgents and fighters for “spiritual freedom” – and only their smallest and insignificant agents have been caught, and only one headquarter destroyed.

I am keeping fighting with my brothers, keeping struggling against them… and have no the slightest idea of how to stop it all… cannot stop it… not anymore.

Sometimes they made it. Sometimes they broke – miraculously – through all information covering – and broadcasted on the broadest possible range of frequencies – mainly speech and sometimes even video… for ten minutes only. Then they were blocked once again… however, no one has ever found the true source of signals – not in his life.

Sometimes it was an invocatory speech to see that already deformed nature of the majority of people, sometimes it was the statistics of human deaths during previous years – numbers and lines of texts, unfamiliar for those profane. Sometimes it was video records from places of military operations and speeches of how people have been drugged into this war by their government – for the sake of interests of the government itself and that cursed “hierarchical minority”. Sometimes these were such verses which he has found yesterday – by the divine will alone still being kept in the Net.

Sometimes… three-four times a year – no more and no less. And for all the rest time there were those Mass Media Interactive corporations.

There will be a holiday of sexual minorities tomorrow… in ten days after it – a holiday of military… there we will once again see heart-touching frames of how our brave soldiers defeat the treacherous enemy and how he, this enemy, continue to retreat under their unstoppable pressure – has been retreating for five years already…

Then there will be a holiday of the man, and a holiday of the woman… the new woman and the new man. Then the day of overall scorn to those in the Underground – sort of official “phew” of the powerless government to the members of Underground Resistance Force. Then there will be a day of prostitutes – not that much different in its nature from the day of the woman… there will be so much.

So many holidays… so little joy. So much pleasure. And once again all in a circle the next year. But for now, this was completely unimportant. It was time to go back, he had at most about five minutes before the entry into a zone of the patrolled quadrant. The patrol has been completed… his home awaits.

He has turned his fly-car, turned on autopilot mode. Now it will travel to LSSP base by itself, automatically regulating its height and evading counter streams of similar happy owners of this transport, and will land on one of free platforms on the base. Nothing more is required. The technics will do everything for you… almost everything.

Then he will make his report on the performed patrol – everything is normal, no suspicious activities have been revealed, no incidents have occurred. Everyone is happy and content… everything is just fine. A paradise on the earth in the borders of his patrolled quadrant… hellish paradise.

He has leaned back on a seat and closed his eyes. He had to rest for a while. A difficult day awaits him tomorrow.

25.05.2005