posted on May, 2 2012 @ 07:17 AM
“I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore!”
The cry seemed a little less convincing watching it on some outdated piece of crap television left over from the Cold War era. Squinting to see the
bedraggled appearance of the mad man having his rant over the airwaves of the United States and soon to be the world on a tiny CRT monitor, General
Jerrod watched eagerly as phones around him began to ring. Like an odd cacophony of the 80s, the buzz and old school ring of the phones was quickly
hushed by the many uniformed men and women answering them, speaking in hushed tones. Although he could not hear exactly the words each spoke, the
general thrum in the room was more than obvious.
The world had fallen for it. Again.
Just like September 11, the London and Bali bombings, hell, even the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. One mad man with an agenda had set the world
ablaze, just like he did now. And, just as obviously, the sheep of this world had fallen for it again. Screaming freedom, they called it. Truth,
justice, a sense of oneness. That was what they were all crying, right now, across the country, in the streets, out their windows. It was all a lie.
Freedom was an illusion, granted to those who were nothing more than paid slaves. Soon would be the finest hour of Jerrod’s career, the day he
brought the world to it’s knees. And they would applaud him for it.
As he smiled lightly, watching as more and more newscasts came in about people pouring out into the streets, all screaming the same message, a junior
officer joined his side.
“How many cities?” Jerrod asked, without turning his attention from the screens. The officer checked the newest data against a laptop computer
snuggled in his arm.
“Los Angeles and Dallas seem to be the biggest turn outs so far sir,” responded the officer, tapping the screen a few times, “it seems there are
over 60,000 in L.A. alone. Montreal is also gaining momentum sir, with some 18,000.”
“Good,” Jerrod replied crisply, a phone with a modern hum ringing out of sync with the remainder letting Jerrod know he was wanted.
“Keep gathering data. I want figures of the biggest turn outs closest to the areas we have rigged, as they happen.” The junior officer saluted
briskly, turning away to his laptop.
In a private room, Jerrod clasped the edge of a long round table, the holographic image coming to life before him. A dishevelled old man stared down
with soulless dead eyes, a look that made even the hardened soldier cringe with fear.
“General Jerrod,” he spoke, his voice barely a husky whisper.
“My master,” Jerrod returned with a subservient bow.
“It would seem Mr. Beale has played his part to the hilt, if I may say,” the Master went on, Jerrod smiling.
“Indeed he has. By the time the mind state wears off, he will have no clue as to the history his words here have changed. I understand the Army and
Air Force are ready sir?”
“Yes yes,” the old man replied, waving a decrepit hand, “Have you fulfilled your part and readied the FEMA camps and the underground
“All in readiness my Master. When is the first bombing wave meant to commence?”
“Six days from now. I have personal assurance from the President and the heads of both the CIA, NSA and FBI that when the Chinese Nationalist trucks
loaded with explosives detonate in the centre of these new movements, that they will be able to convince the serfs that their safest bet for survival
is within one of the “disaster relief” camps.”
“And what of the President, and the Heads of State?” The old man chuckled, a chilling sound that rose up Jerrod's spine like a finger of ice.
“Once safe in their Underground bunkers, we will detonate each and every one across the world, burying them all alive.” Jerrod inhaled a sharp
breath. He did not see that one coming.
“What of the people who will not willingly go? We do have a well-armed citizenry here in the United States.” The old man smiled cruelly.
“We plan to use those people to start racial riots against Asian nationals living here in the US. It will be so very similar to what we did to the
Japanese in World War Two. Six days from now, we will wreak a terrible toll on the people of this world. We will reap them in their millions as they
line the streets, crying freedom. We will pit them against each other, show them that bloodshed and prejudice is their only way. They will go to war,
eager to destroy their common enemies. This planet will know a slaughter unheard of it’s entire history. And when the dust settles, we will return
to the old ways. Where kings like I ruled over the commoner, where men are slaves and kings are Gods, like we once were.”
Jerrod and old man smiled together, knowing that thanks to Mr. Beale and his insidious rant this night, the end to this cesspool of humanity would
soon come, in a cataclysmic baptism of fire. And out of the ashes, a new world would be born.
Six days from now, the world, as we know it, would end.