posted on May, 5 2012 @ 10:03 PM
The year 2112:
There was a knock on the door of his inner office, and The Great Friend, leader of the entire world, raised his huge jowly head from his desk.
“Enter.” It was Friend #4472-3aL, his private secretary. “Mad as hell, friend,” he said, in a bored and absentminded tone.
“Mad as hell, friend,” returned his secretary in his typical businesslike tone. It was the greeting and response all people used. For here, in the
year 2112, there was no more inequality, and all people addressed each other as “friend,” usually proceeded by the Revolution’s oldest and most
“Well, get on with it,” said the Great Friend sourly. He longed for this ordeal to be over so he could return to his private quarters and spend
the rest of the day in idle games of amusement with a few of his several thousand Special Female Friends (SFF’s). Of course, they weren’t
“his,” – nobody owned anything in this post-revolutionary paradise, least of all other people but…well, some friends were more…shall we say
friendly to certain people than others. It was a fact of human nature, the Great Friend supposed, vaguely.
“Yes, friend.” #4472-3aL was a very capable private secretary and the Great Friend was happy that he was on his staff. Businesslike and efficient,
#4472-3aL adjusted his wire-rim spectacles and began reading from a sheet he held in his hands.
“We’ve gone over this before, friend, the protocol for the ceremony marking the 100th anniversary of the Revolution tomorrow. First, before you
enter the stadium, the crowd will file in and take their places. As you know, the Great Stadium is the biggest structure humanity has ever created,
and can seat half-a-million. Then, we’ll begin with the ritual chanting, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore,” of course.
Everyone has been instructed to chant softly so it will give the impression of a gentle, murmuring breeze in a country field. The security detail will
be there to protect you from the…less friendly friends, who might want to…well, disrupt things. They’ve been instructed to slaughter
every living thing in a 20-mile radius around the stadium, though, so we don’t anticipate much trouble. Then, 14,000 prisoners selected for their
docility will form a human bridge so you, the Great Friend, can march across their backs to the podium, which will be crafted of solid Emerald and
Ruby. You’ll only have to speak for ten minutes, after which the Orchestra of Equality will strike up the Global Anthem of Peace. Then, in a sign of
anti-materialism and spontaneous devotion to you, the Great Friend, everyone in the audience will throw their most treasured family belongings on a
great bonfire, signaling the triumph over crass physical possessions. You’ll be handed a diamond-encrusted torch to light the bonfire, everyone will
cheer, and then it will be over. Any questions?”
“No, not really, #4472-3aL.” The Great Friend paused, steepling his fat little fingers in thought. “It sounds good. Quite fitting to celebrate a
century of global equality, peace, anti-materialism, and freedom, dotcha find, friend?”
“Oh most certainly. Well, if you won’t be needing me…mad as hell, sir.”
“Mad as hell.”