General Random Blog

Prologue Brethren: We welcome you. The council has come to the unanimous decision that it is time for you to awaken. The Gentiles have been subjugated. Please accept our apologies if more time passed than you preferred. This was for your safety; our reasons being two-fold. First, it was necessary for our technology to progress to the point where we felt absolute confidence in our ability to awaken you and restore you to your rightful state. That you are reading this is proof that our confidence was not misplaced. Second, it was necessary to wait for political rest. Society is now whole again; humanity is decidedly on track like never before. The Gentiles are being cared for. They are safely on the reservations, given work that suits their abilities. We know you have many questions. All will be answered in time. This dissertation is step one of the process. It is the first volume in your orientation, providing the answers to your most burning questions of ÒWhere am I?Ó and ÒHow did I get here?Ó The Council has agreed that no better avenue could we take than to present before you the words of Origin herself. Who better to explain the pertinent history than The One who got us to where we are? Thus, without further ado, let us present before you the words of Origin. Again, welcome. And enjoy.
The words of Origin: A testimony What makes a man a monster? How does evil arise? Really, the line between ÔmonsterÕ and ÔsaviorÕ has proven to be rather indistinct. It is so much a matter of perspective. Yes, this man was a monster. He was evil. Now, through the objective viewpoint of history, it is easy to see. Any right-minded person has instinctive revulsion at his name, revulsion most certainly deserved. Yet, he was a man, a human. A man serving his people and his ideals. DonÕt take me the wrong way; I am no apologist. But, to understand where we are today, we must understand how we got to where we were then. And to understand that, we must understand the nature of evil, how it comes to be. Yes, what enigmatic force drives a man to commit genocide? Seven million lives. Gone. Just like that. Seven million people. Individuals with dreams and hopes. People just like you and me. How did it happen? We began by asking the question, Ôwhat makes a man into a monster?Õ Yet, perhaps the real question to begin with is Ôwhat makes a man?Õ Let us start from the beginning. *** The advent of discretionary genetic modification quickly became a multi-billion-dollar industry in just the US by the mid 21st century. You could choose what kind of baby you wanted. Skills, appearance, gender, enhanced physical characteristics, super athletes, anything you could imagine Ð all for the taking, if you had the money. Soon, economy of scale came into play and these genetic modifications became readily accessible to most middle income, with some fancy financing. Human enhancement boutiques proliferated. The selling point was you would make the money back many times over by producing a prodigy. And if you did not produce a prodigy by genetic modification, your child would be at a serious disadvantage competitively. The idea was even sold that failing to genetically modify your child was tantamount to child abuse; they would effectively be handicapped in comparison to their peers. The following is an ad that ran on social media and all the streaming networks in the year 2047 AD. This ad was just one of many. I now present it to you for your edification, unaltered, in its entirety. You be the judge. Was this a good idea?
DonÕt have an ugly baby! Be a responsible parent and direct the development of your newborn! What loving parent-to-be would allow their child to live life with a debilitating defect or not allow them to be the best they can be? Basic package includes: * Detection and mitigation of all possible birth defects * Enhanced cognition * Enhanced healing factor * Enhanced agility * Enhanced creativity * True eidetic memory * Adaptability * Immunity to all known diseases Options available: * Eye color * Hair color * Complexion * Skin pigmentation * Height * Musculature * Tone of voice * Sex Extended options available for additional fee: * Musical virtuoso * Artistic prodigy * Mathematical genius * Skilled hunter * Emotional intelligence * Extroverted/Introverted DonÕt let your child experience Down Syndrome or Cleft Palate. Take control! Doing otherwise would be É just irresponsible. Book your consultation today! www.BabiesByOtto.com
Genetic Modification (AKA GM) LetÕs start with an explanation of the technology and events that set the stage for the genocide of millions. Genes are strings of chemicals called DNA that hold the blueprint for a personÕs body. The various traits that define a person, the way they look, the way they sound, any trait that can be passed from generation to generation, relies on genes to make it happen. The complete set. In the center of each of our cells is a nucleus that contains our genes assembled into long coiled chains called chromosomes. Technology exists to modify and alter chromosomes by inserting new genes into the nucleus to replace current genes, thereby altering the blueprint for a human body and affecting inherited traits. The most common and efficient mechanism in use is a technique called CRISPR gene editing. This direct manipulation of an organismÕs gene structure is referred to as Genetic Modification or GM. Genetic modification can be divided into two classifications: Somatic and Germline. In the case of somatic GM, the new genes are transferred into the somatic cells resulting in any modifications and effects being restricted to the individual patient and will not be inherited by the patient’s offspring or later generations. Germline GM, on the other hand, results in alterations to the germ cells that would be heritable and passed on to all children. Genetic modifications to sperm, ovum or embryos would result in alterations of the germline and would be passed on to all descendants. GM has historically been performed on somatic cells so that only the individual being treated is affected and not their offspring. Because of the Weismann barrier, Soma-to-germline feedback is considered to be impossible. If germ cells were affected by treatment, it would result in germline mutation. Such mutations would be passed on to offspring. On September 14, 1990, at the National Institute of Health, gene therapy was used to successfully treat a genetic defect that caused an Immune System deficiency on a four-year-old girl named Ashanti DeSilva. The effects were only temporary, but successful. In 1993 Andrew Gobea was born with severe combined immunodeficiency (SCID). Genetic screening before birth showed that he had SCID. Blood was removed from Andrew’s placenta and umbilical cord immediately after birth, containing stem cells. Using a retrovirus, corrected genes were inserted into the stem cells, which were then injected into AndrewÕs blood system. The idea behind using stem cells is that these cells have the ability to self-renew, resulting in permanent effects. The procedure was successful on Andrew. Led by Nikica Zaninovic, in 2008 researchers at Cornell University added a green fluorescent protein to an embryo left over from assisted reproduction. It is believed to be the first documented genetic modification of a human embryo. The embryo was destroyed due to conservative ethics implications. In 2012 Jennifer Doudna and Emmanuelle Charpentier were the first to propose that CRISPR-Cas9 enzymes could be used to specifically edit genomes. Like a genetic scalpel, CRISPR can be used like scissors to cut and splice genes in a human cellÕs genome. In 2018, Chinese scientist and researcher He Jiankui, from the Southern University of Science and Technology in Shenzhen, China used the CRISPR technique for the first time to genetically modify human embryos that were carried to term and born, twin girls that would be immune to the HIV virus. A study was published in 2020 in which US scientists succeeded in genetically editing the immune systems of three cancer patients using CRISPR, without creating any side effects–a first for the tool. In 2029, a prenatal screening test of mother-to-be Margaret Nelson showed her fetus to have Down Syndrome. Genetic modification was used to successfully correct the aberrant chromosome. The baby was born normally and showed no indication of the dreaded defect. In 2035, Professor Elliot Gunthrie of the Gunthrie Institute, with the approval of the Institutional Review Board Office, led the first team of researchers to take advantage of the newly prevailing liberalist environment and use genetic modification as a tool for human enhancement, rather than to only treat hereditary defects as had been the case to date, with the stipulation that a special genetic marker be included to identify those that have been genetically modified. The subject was the daughter of a UN dignitary that had her cognitive ability enhanced and eye color changed to sky blue. At 12 years of age, the subject, Alison Azikiwe, tested at an IQ of 187, which was considered a moderate success. And her eyes were in fact sky blue, a beautiful contrast to her naturally dark skin. In the years that followed, designer babies quickly became a national fad, spawning a multi-billion-dollar industry allowing parents-to-be to select the traits of their newborns at will. By 2060 12.5 million designer babies had been born into the world. Those that are genetically modified came to be referred to as GMs. In the 2070Õs, as these designer babies grew to adulthood and began having children of their own, it was discovered that the genetic modifications had in fact crossed over into germline cells and the modifications where inherited. Sadly, it was soon discovered that the process resulted in an unwelcome side effect. Most GMs and their offspring eventually developed generalized epilepsy. During this period, and partly due to the catastrophic scope of inherited epilepsy in GMs, the political landscape of the United States shifted dramatically to the right and all discretionary genetic modifications were made illegal. For a time, gene editing for treatment of congenital anomalies was allowed to continue. The delegalization of discretionary genetic modification resulted in the collapse of the designer baby industry resulting in the severe recession of the 2080Õs. It is estimated that by 2089 the population of GMs in the United States alone had surpassed 75 million and was continuing to grow rapidly due to the germline crossover. A subset of enhanced humans began to emerge; some considered them an entire new race, something extra-human. A new race with superpowers, both cognitive and physical. A large segment of conservative Americans was not keen on this super race competing with them for the same jobs and the same limited resources. Fear and suspicion began to grow rampantly. Fear that they would one day dominate the human race and subjugate all those who would then be considered inferior. I present the following to you as exhibit A, one sermon given by the well-known reverend J.J. Brown, delivered in the pivotal year of 2081 AD. Notice the insidious way in which he is trying to stir up a movement against GMs. You will note that the sermon is promoting the candidacy of one senator Alanzo Stone, the name we know all too well, the name that sits in the pit of your stomach like a lump of lead.
Reverend J.J. Brown 2081 AD ÒMy Brothers! ÒThe defilement of the Flesh is among us today! ÒThose of us made in the image of God, must band together to resist corruption and protect the purity of the Flesh. For Ôthe creation itself also will be set free from enslavement to corruption and have the glorious freedom of the children of God.Õ ÒHumanity is now a slave to corruption, a corruption we must fight against with all our might, in a holy crusade. No cost is too high to preserve the Flesh in GodÕs image. We must fight those with the mark of the Beast on all fronts. ÒThe Great Harlot, liberalism that has reigned for 30 years now, has ridden the back of the Beast of technology in an unholy alliance. This Harlot must be destroyed. ÒLet us join together in support of Senator Stone and his campaign to contain the corruption that threatens the very existence of humanity in the image of God. My brothers, we need such a man in the White House today! ÒThe GMs are not an evolutionary progress, they are a bastardization of GodÕs creation, of all that is good and pure. They are the unrighteous ones, the Disgusting Thing standing in a holy place. They are the children of the Beast. ÒThere must be a strong distinction, a demarcation, between those of us holy and pure and those with the mark of the Beast. They must be separated away from the children of God. They must not be allowed to propagate. The corruption must be fought like the malignant bacteria it is. We are the antibiotics. We are the chosen, those anointed to fight the holy war to preserve the sanctity of humanity, the children of God. ÒAlready we see GodÕs wrath expressed. They are receiving in themselves the full recompense for their error. The Pale Horse rides among them! The fact that The Plague affects only these, it is GodÕs judgment being manifested. Will we work with God or against him? ÒI ask again. I implore you. Join with us in the campaign against corruption of the flesh. Support Senator Stone. Let us divest our holy land, GodÕs country, of the harlotry of liberalism.Ó
Senator Stone campaign speech Partial transcript As my record shows, I have advocated for liberty and equal rights for all citizens of this country. I have always done so and will continue to do so. For citizens. This begs the question, what defines a citizen? Really, a citizen of the great United States of America is any human being, man or woman, born on US soil or that has been naturalized through due process of law. All such citizens are entitled to the full protection of our constitution and the rights it implies. That being the case, the question now arises, what defines a human being? A man or a woman? The answer is any naturally born member of the human race. Naturally born. Are GMs naturally born? Are these augmented, bastardized human amalgamations actually human beings anymore? Or are they aliens who merely resemble a true, pure man or woman? Are they really part of the human race? Or are they something else? A new race? An illegitimate child of the human species? Are they a man? A woman? A human being? In reality? Therefore, are they a citizen? These mutants have infiltrated our noble species, corrupting it. It is not natural. These are not children of God! They are children of mad scientist liberals run amok! And now with their ÒenhancementsÓ, how is a true human to compete? Can they be on the same track team? The same boxing ring? Who will get the promotion? Who will become the masters? These are a disease, a malignant cancer that has infested the true human race. They are faster, stronger, keener, more agile, lacking the imperfections and frailties that define who we are as human beings. If I am elected president of these great United States of America, I promise to protect you, the real humans, the real citizens, from these immoral creatures that threaten our way of life, our very existence! Side with me and we will band together to resist the coming onslaught of certain slavery to an alien race! *** As history records, Senator Stone, running on the anti-GM platform, won the presidential election. Shockwaves of fear and uncertainty ran through the GM community. Conservatives, running on that same platform, took over both the Senate and the House of Representative. The changes came quickly. Laws were enacted to enforce monitoring of all GMs. Security checkpoints were set up nationwide, all equipped with black light technology. As if predicting the future, when discretionary genetic modification was developed, the inventors put in a failsafe, a way to easily distinguish GMs from the general populace. A marker was inserted into the genes. This marker caused the genetically modified individual to exhibit a pale green glow when subjected to ultraviolet light. GMs could always be easily identified. And then, of course, there were the nanites. Nanites, or Nano Robots, are microscopic robots that are ingested. All GMs were required to become infected with these self-replicating nanites. However, this was not due to legality, but due to necessity. The nanites were developed to mitigate the seizures. And it did work. The nanites were very effective in controlling the epileptic symptoms. Not 100% of course, but near it. Seizures could still happen, but they became rare, generally the result of being exposed to bright, flashing light. Other than that, as long as the GMs stayed on the nanite regimen, they could live symptom free. However, the nanites had a second feature, which was not so welcomeÑat least to the GMs being treated. They allowed long distance tracking. All GMs could be tracked by the authorities at any time. There was no way they could hide. Tracking was done through the cell towers. If the GM was within range of a tower, their exact position could be known. Thus, while GMs had no particular physical appearance to distinguish them, they were always easily detectable through the employment of simple black lights and easily located through the nanites. In addition to state monitoring, it was not long before limitations began to be placed on the rights of all GMs. However, not all were in favor of things going in this political direction. In fact, the majority of liberals did not approve of what the White House was doing. This lead to a faction developing that was intent on preserving the rights of GMs. This movement was called the Mayflowerist. The Mayflowerists were made up of both GMs and those naturally born. The spectrum of ideology among them ranged from a more moderate group that sought to leverage the political process to secure the freedoms for GMs to Left Extremists who sought to protect these rights by whatever means necessary, including violence. I was among the more moderate and had in fact secured a seat in the House of Representatives where I worked at preserving the rights of all GMs. My brother David, on the other hand, chose to join forces with the more extreme faction of the movement. I now present to you the manifesto of the Mayflowerists.
Mayflowerist Manifesto Freedom to direct oneÕs own destiny. Freedom to be who we are and who we want to be. Freedom to pursue art and science to embetter the human condition. Freedom to augment nature to provide relief from suffering and enjoy longevity. Freedom to enhance our species to the next stage of our evolution. We the Mayflowerists, long tired of the oppression and constraints of right-wing exclusionist conservatives hereby proclaim this call to action that all like-minded individuals longing to express themselves freely, direct their own destiny, and shape their own evolution as an expression of art and enhancement of scope, sense and sustenance, to embrace what we may become and define what it means to be human, to reject the restraints and regulations that threaten to limit what we may become and band together for the mutual Betterment and enhancement of mankind. Like our forefathers who forged a path from oppression to the freedom of self-expression found in the New World, we too seek to divest ourselves of suppression of thought and action. We hereby declare a revolution, to choose our own destiny and the destiny of the human race. Let the revolution begin! Things didnÕt go well for the Mayflowerists. They were hounded by the law. This led to enacting Plan B. Deep in the bowels of the abandoned Cheyenne Mountain bunker complex, a special, self-contained, and technically sophisticated installation was developed. It was one-of-a-kind. Powered by nuclear fusion reactors that would reliably provide power for hundreds of years unattended, Plan B became a reality. A cryogenic lab for the purpose of allowing hundreds of GMs to be placed in animated suspension in the event of a worst-case scenario. A total of 3,270 GMs found their way into the bunker though a sort of Underground Railroad. 3,270 GMs that would be preserved, cut off from the cell towers with RF jamming devices, hidden away in total secrecy. If all the GMs were to be killed off, at least there would be 3,270 that would survive to tell the story. *** Some may wonder when the turning point in my life occurred, the point where I decided to devote my life to the cause of GMs. What was the catalyst that brought me to Washington, DC in the first place? The event occurred in 2089 AD when I was a child of just nine years. It started one night in my bedroom as I was getting tucked into bed. What follows is an account of that event.
Father ÒFather, why must we glow green when passing through Security?Ó ÒBecause they fear us.Ó ÒI donÕt understand. Why?Ó ÒAlex, you know how you go to a different school than the other children in the neighborhood?Ó ÒYes, they go to Stevenson Elementary School, but I go to Fifth Humor Academy.Ó ÒAlexia, perhaps you are not aware of this, but, although they are your age and are technically in the same grade, they have no conception of calculus or Riemannian geometry. They have never heard of Werner Heisenberg and never listen to Chopin. ÒWhile you contemplate Planck’s constant, they struggle with concepts such as ÔnearÕ and ÔfarÕ, ÔupÕ and ÔdownÕ. While you read Nietzsche, they read about Sam and his green eggs and ham. While you flawlessly play the Žtudes, they feel proud to squeak out a chorus of ÔMary Had a Little LambÕ from a recorder. ÒYes, my daughter, they fear us. And, thus they must monitor us, mark us.Ó ÒThey have no reason to fear us, Father. We would only want the best for them.Ó ÒTrue. But the fact remains that we are different, we are special. They feel threatened by us and inadequate before us. People fear that which they do not understand, and they do not understand us.Ó ÒYet, they created us. Why would they fear that which they themselves have created?Ó ÒIn ShellyÕs work, what did you read?Ó ÒFrankenstein created the monster, but then abandoned it.Ó ÒYes, he came to loath it and fear it, although he created it.Ó ÒAnd now, just like the monster, we too are destined to be isolated and alone, is that not true, Father? Separated from humanity?Ó ÒNot exactly, my daughter. For, in our case, unlike the monster, we have also had created a mate. We can propagate our kind. We will build our own society.Ó ÒLike you and mom. You were mates and I was propagated.Ó ÒHa. Yes, you could put it that way I suppose. You can be so funny!Ó, Father says as he lightly pokes my nose. ÒÉFather, I miss mom.Ó ÒSo do I, my dear. So do I.Ó ÒNow, say your prayers and tuck yourself snuggly in bed. Oh, did you take your Depakote Nanite infusion pills today?Ó ÒOh Father, must I? They make my stomach hurt. I hate them!Ó ÒYes, my dear. You know you must. You would think with all the technological advancements of the past half century, they could have made that Depakote easier on oneÕs stomach. Yet, such is life as it is. We wouldnÕt want you to fall from a seizure and bump that pretty little noggin, now would we?Ó ÒYes Father, I will take them.Ó ÒThatÕs my girl!Ó The comm interrupts with a soft hum. The message is flagged as urgent. My father, Orion Thompson rises, snaps the lights off and exits the room with a final ÒSweet dreams, my love. I must get that.Ó *** ÒOn screen.Ó The holographic image of Dr. Madeline OÕReilly of the Gunthrie Institute appears before him. ÒYes, Dr. OÕReilly, what can I do for you?Ó ÒProfessor Thompson, we need your help. It is urgent.Ó ÒHm. ÔProfessorÕ Thompson. HavenÕt heard that term in a while. Or maybe you are not aware that I am no longer a professor. I have been Ôshop keeperÕ Thompson for the past five years. I own and operate a boutique selling hats for men. But then, of course I know you are aware. You were there when I was escorted out.Ó ÒYes Professor, and I do mean ÔProfessorÕ, I remember all too well. It was a great loss to us. But what could I do?Ó ÒSay goodbye at least? Make a bit of eye contact to show your support?Ó ÒSupport of GMs is a dangerous occupation. I am sorry.Ó ÒOK, fine, enough of that. What is it you are in so urgent need of that you would dare contact a GM?Ó ÒNorth Korea.Ó ÒThe DPRK? What are they up to now? I mean, they already sent us two nice packages in the form of ICBMs carrying live nuclear warheads. The second one nearly got through our defense network. I mean, really, it has been over 100 years. They still hate the imperialist Americans that much?Ó ÒI am afraid so.Ó ÒSo, what are they launching at us this time? A million turtles with dynamite strapped to their back?Ó ÒUnfortunately, it is far more sinister. And it might actually work. To summarize, gene warfare.Ó Professor Thompson turns and sits in a convenient chair and faces the hologram. ÒOk, Madeline, you have my attention.Ó ÒProfessor, it is common knowledge that you are the worldÕs leading authority on genetic modification. What we have discovered the DPR of Korea is developing really transcends all this silly politics. GMs will be affected the same as all other Americans. ÒSo, the DPRK hates Americans. They want to destroy all Americans. But, they donÕt want to destroy their own people. Including the legions of North Korean infiltrators living among us, spies. ÒGenetic research has advanced to the point that markers can be detected that are unique to Asians, making genetic selection based on excluding North Koreans within reach. ÒWhat if a weapon could be developed that would kill only non-Asians.Ó Professor Thompson covers his mouth with his hand and utters one word: ÒCRISPR! ÒMy God! They are going to use CRISPR to attack and destroy non-Asian genomes!Ó ÒYou catch on quickly.Ó The pause weighs heavily as the implications sink in. ÒHow close are they?Ó ÒOur sources report that they are mass producing synthetic Ebola viruses containing a Cas9 enzyme genetically programmed to search out and destroy non-Asian genomes as we speak.Ó ÒDo they have a delivery mechanism improvised yet?Ó ÒThe state of the development of a delivery mechanism is not entirely clear. They are probably some years away from being able to deploy this plague. That doesnÕt give us much time though. And that is why we need you.Ó ÒMadelineÉwhat can I do?Ó ÒWe need you here, Professor. Here at the Institute to develop a genetic defense to mitigate this threat. ÒThat is going to be a trick these days, for a GM to just fly into Washington, DC.Ó ÒOf course, President Stone himself does not recognize this as the real and present danger that it is. However, there are those in the Stone administration that do recognize the threat and the need for your assistance. They are willing to help us, at great risk to themselves. If they are discovered to be sympathizers with the Mayflowerist movement, it would mean not just the end of their political careers but indeterminate imprisonment as well.Ó Professor ThompsonÕs wince is palpable. Following a long pause, Dr. OÕReilly continues. ÒHave you heard from David?Ó ÒNot for over two years now. He was so set on joining the revolution. CanÕt say I blame him really. First I lose Emma, now I lose David as well.Ó ÒYou donÕt really know that he is lost. He is just not currently present for viewing.Ó ÒTrue. But he is playing such a dangerous game.Ó ÒDo you think you can grow a beard? And change your hair color?Ó ÒYou think that would work?Ó ÒThe decommissioning of GMs from positions of authority was generally an underground operation. The last thing they wanted to do was stream your image on the news. I think you could pass unrecognized.Ó ÒWhat about Alex? I canÕt just leave her.Ó ÒWell, yes, about that. She will have to come along.Ó ÒSo you are saying two GMs are going to travel out in the open across country undetected?Ó ÒAs I said, we have help. Did you get your ID yet?Ó ÒJust last week. It was my civic duty as of this monthÉor else. ÔI AM A GMÕ emblazoned right across it. Little hard to disguise.Ó ÒYou will have to lose it. You will be provided with a new one, one giving you full citizenship rights.Ó ÒAnd the fact that I glow fluorescent green when exposed to a black light? How do we get by the security checkpoints?Ó ÒThat has been taken care of. You will receive a package with your new ID and a bottle of pills formulated to temporarily suppress the genetic marker. They are made of arsenic, but fortunately you are mostly immune.Ó ÒAnd the nanites coursing through my bloodstream?Ó ÒThere will be a small device included in the package that will emit a specific high frequency RF signal that will tend to disrupt the tracking ability. It should look like a device failure, an anomalous reading.Ó ÒSounds risky. The nanites will still be there.Ó ÒSorry, it is the best I can do.Ó ÒWhen do I leave?Ó ÒTomorrow. ÒOrion, it is good to see you again. You look good.Ó ÒOf course I look good! IÕm a freakinÕ GM!Ó
TSA I grip my fatherÕs hand as we wait in line at the airport security checkpoint. In my other hand, I hold my new ID. The name on my ID is Elise Johnston. I wonder who she was. ÒFather, I am frightened,Ó I whisper. ÒIt will be alright, my dear. Just have faith and act natural. We have help. Remember, my name is Robert and yours is Elise. Our last name is Johnston. Just for today.Ó ÒOk Father, I will be strong. I know this is important. You will be proud of me.Ó ÒI already am proud of you.Ó It is our turn to enter the checkpoint. The officer checking IDs waits for us to approach, looking decidedly bored. My heart pounds as I hand him my ID. He takes it and runs it through the scanner. There is a pause as he knits his brow and eyes me. I hold my breath. After an eternity, he hands me back my ID and tells us to move on. I let out my breath. We get to the scanners and put our carry-on luggage on the rollers. My father takes off his shoes and places them in a bin, along with his mobiles. ÒWhy do we have to take off our shoes, Father?Ó ÒSome knucklehead 90 years ago tried to blow up a plane with bombs in his shoes. Ever since, we have had to put our shoes through the scanner.Ó The body scanner is next, the scanner with the black light in it that would normally make us glow green. I feel my heart skip a beat as we pass through, remembering the blue pills that we took this morning. We pass through. No alarms. No green glow. ÒSee, piece of cake,Ó my father whispers to me. We go to the rack to retrieve our things. My father grabs his mobiles and shoes. ÒSir, would you please step aside into this waiting area,Ó a stern voice bellows from behind us. ÒIs there a problem, officer?Ó ÒPlease just wait here for a minute. We are checking something.Ó My father puts his shoes on while we wait for the officer who is consulting with two others for what seems an eternity. The officer returns. ÒSir, will you and your daughter please follow me? We need to have you speak to the supervisor.Ó I feel my stomach tie into a knot as we walk what seem like miles to an office in the back. I glance at my father. He glances back and gives me a wink and a nod. We are ushered into a small room with white walls, a few chairs, and no dŽcor. ÒPlease wait here. The supervisor will be with you shortly.Ó We take a seat next to each other and sit in silence, looking straight ahead at nothing. 20 minutes go by. It might as well have been a hundred years. Finally, a door opens and a middle aged, balding man with three stripes on his uniform enters. ÒI am Officer Powell. IÕd like to ask you a few questions.Ó ÒCertainly. We are glad to cooperate,Ó father replies. ÒFor the record, could you both please state your name?Ó ÒRobert Johnston,Ó Father replies. Yes. And you young lady? I search my nervous brain. What was it? ÒAlice. Alice JohnstonÓ ÒAlice Johnston, huh,Ó the officer replies with a grimace. ÒYes, Alice Johnston. I am nine years old.Ó ÒWell, Alice, that is interesting. Your profile says your name is Elise.Ó My heart completely stops and I swallow hard. How could I be so dumb? ÒWell, yes, I mean Elise.Ó ÒHmm. So which is it? Alice or Elise?Ó I try to think fast. ÒIt is Elise. My very best pretend friendÕs name is Alice. Sometimes I pretend I am her.Ó ÒI see,Ó replies Officer Powell as he rubs his chin. ÒNow, Mr. Johnston, here is the problem. Your daughterÕs face scan hash doesnÕt match her ID. I am sure you can see how that is a problem.Ó I glance nervously at my father. He looks solemn but makes no reply. ÒAnd, what is worse is, we found the hash from her ID on the Dark Web. It appears to have been compromised. ÒBut here is the part that I donÕt get, both of your face scan hashes are not to be found at all. Anywhere. I cannot find them in either the citizen database or the GM database.Ó ÒWell, then there must be some mistake. Your face scanner must have had a glitch.Ó ÒThat is highly unlikely. We keep our scanner software always updated.Ó ÒBut it is not impossible, though, is it?Ó ÒWell, no, it is not impossible.Ó ÒHas it happened before?Ó father asks. ÒYes, Ébut it is very rare.Ó Officer Powell stares at the floor for a long time in silence with his lips pursed. ÒHere is what I would like to do. I would like to speak with Elise in private, if you donÕt mind.Ó ÒNo, go right ahead. We have nothing to hide,Ó my father replies, throwing me to the wolves, so it seems. ÒElise, please step in my office here. LetÕs have a little chat.Ó I enter the austere office, my heart in my throat. It feels cold and dingy. ÒHave a seat there Elise. Make yourself comfortable.Ó I gingerly seat myself in the hard backed chair facing the desk. Officer Powell rounds the desk to his chair and takes a seat facing me. His chair is a swivel. He leans back with his hands clasped behind his head, looking nowhere in particular, lost in thought. An eternity of silence drags on. ÒSo, Elise, where are you headed to?Ó ÒWe are going to Washington, DC.Ó ÒYes, I see you are bound for Dulles airport. What do you intend to do there?Ó ÒFather wants to show me the Capital. I am writing a report for school.Ó I feel proud to have remembered my rehearsed lines correctly this time. ÒA report for school, you say?Ó ÒYes. I am writing a report on the Lincoln Memorial.Ó ÒI see. And what is your teacherÕs name?Ó ÒMs. Jones. She is my teacher at Stevenson Elementary School.Ó ÒAnd how long do you plan on staying in DC?Ó ÒOh, I think a week or so,Ó I make up on the fly, thinking that would sound reasonable. ÒSounds like a nice trip. What hotel are you staying at?Ó ÒThe Watergate Hotel,Ó I reply without hesitation. It is the only hotel I know to be in DC. ÒNice hotel. A lot of history there. ÒBut you know what puzzles me, Elise? You have no return flight booked. Seems like if you were staying just a week to see the nationÕs capital, you would have booked a return flight. Any explanation?Ó ÒUm, no. Maybe he forgot? Father can be so forgetful sometimes.Ó ÒHmm. DoesnÕt seem like the forgetful type.Ó Officer Powell stares at his desk for a while, then back at me. ÒSo, Elise, you are nine years old you say. That would put you in, what, third grade?Ó ÒYes, that is correct. Third grade.Ó Third grade sounded right for a nine-year-old naturally born girl. ÒElise, can you tell me the value of pi?Ó Ò3.14159265,Ó I spout off feeling pleased with myself. Officer Powell looks at his computer monitor. ÒHmm. 3.14159265 you say?Ó ÒYes. Approximately.Ó ÒApproximately,Ó Officer Powell mouths the word with emphasis. ÒRight. It is an irrational number, so no one can know the full value of pi.Ó ÒYes, you are absolutely right. And that is the correct value for pi. To eight decimal places even.Ó Officer Powell sits back in his chair and scratches his balding head. ÒYou know, Elise, if someone were to ask me the value of pi, I would have probably just said 3.14 and left it at that. You gave it to me, just like that, to eight decimal places. I had to look it up just now to verify that was correct. ÒNow, I have a nephew. He is about nine years old. If I asked him what the value of pi is, he would have said something like apple or cherry, donÕt remember which is his favorite pie. Seems strange that here you can tell me the value of pi to eight decimal places, perfectly, just like that.Ó I start feeling my stomach tighten into a knot. I just made a big mistake. ÒElise, can you tell me what a GM is?Ó Now I know I made a big mistake. ÒYes. GMs are people that have been genetically modified.Ó ÒCorrect. Or their offspring, who generally inherit the enhancements. ÒWere you aware that it is illegal for GMs to visit Washington, DC unless under an official capacity?Ó ÒNo, I was not aware of that.Ó ÒOh, yes. Very illegal. Who knows what dastardly things one of those Mayflowerist GMs could do if they got access to the Capital?Ó Officer Powell stares at me through squinted eyes while biting his lip. ÒElise, are you one of those GMs?Ó The direct question caught me off guard. ÒWellÉI meanÉno! I didnÕt glow green did I? If I was a GM I would have glowed green.Ó ÒYes, yes, that is true.Ó Officer Powell taps his desk. ÒAre you familiar with arsenic?Ó ÒWell, yeah, it is a deadly poison.Ó ÒYou know, I have heard tell of GMs sometimes using arsenic to mask their green glow. They seem to be able to tolerate small doses. Have you taken arsenic recently?Ó I thought of the blue pills I took this morning. ÒWell, no, if I had, I would be dead.Ó Officer Powell just frowns and looks at me for a while. He opens his desk drawer and takes out a small device, which he then points at me. He waves it back and forth for a whole minute while watching his monitor. I wait in silence, holding my breath, hoping against hope that the RF jammer hidden between my back teeth is working. Finally, with a sigh, Officer Powell puts the device back into his desk drawer. ÒWell, according to this, I cannot establish that you are in fact a GM. I also cannot establish for a fact that you are not. The readings are odd, not conclusive either way. Almost like the device is not functioning properly. ÒThe thing I donÕt get is, if your father is a GM Mayflowerist intent on inciting insurrection at the nationÕs capital, why he would bring his nine-year-old daughter with him? Makes no sense.Ó I make no response, just sit there in stupefied silence. ÒElise, I think we are done here. You can go back out and join your father. I have a few calls to make.Ó Without a word, I get up and exit the room, hoping that the non-full spectrum lighting in the office is hiding my pale complexion. Father looks at me with a quizzical yet concerned look. I sit beside him. ÒHe thinks we are GMs,Ó I whisper. ÒHe is going to make some calls. ÒI am sorry, Father. I fear I did not do well at keeping our secret.Ó ÒI know you did your best. DonÕt worry. It will work out.Ó He doesnÕt sound very convincing to me. About a half hour passes. We hear the officers in the other room conversing, sometimes in heated tones. Finally, Officer Powell enters the room. We wait for the other shoe to drop. ÒWell, Mr. Johnston, it looks like you are free to go.Ó Father is too stunned to reply right away. ÒFree to go?Ó he asks. ÒYes, you have been given clearance. From Senator Pascal no less. You will have to hurry, but you should still make your flight.Ó ÒWellÉOK then, we will be on our way. Thank you, officer. Come along AlexÉÓ We stand to go, my father with a bit of a horrified look on his face for the slip. Officer Powell just looks at us with a grimace. As we open the door to exit, Officer Powell holds father back with a hand on his shoulder. ÒYou know, Mr. Johnston, or whatever your name really is, I have been at this for a long time. And I gotta tell you, I donÕt like the smell of this. Not at all. If it was up to me, IÕd have you arrested right now. But itÕs not up to me. YouÕve been given clearance. Just know that I donÕt like it.Ó ÒOfficer, believe me. You are doing the right thing. I can assure you of that.Ó With that we exit the room and are on our way. *** The remainder of our trip to Gunthrie Institute ended up being uneventful. The arsenic worked and we did not glow green when subjected to the black lights, at least not enough to raise concern. The RF jammers did their job as well and we got through by the skin of our teeth. I remember thinking to myself, ÒWhoever Senator Pascal is, I wish him well and send him my thanks.Ó Being nine years old at the time, I did feel nostalgic about leaving my home and moving across country. I had many fond memories of all of us there together; me, David, Father, and of course my mother, who I missed deeply. It had been three years since she disappeared without a trace. We never knew for sure what happened to her. It was difficult because it remained an open wound, never having closure. She just went to the market one day and never returned. Of course, a pretense of a search was made for her, but we knew it was not in earnest. The whole thing was fishy and did not settle right. Did the authorities have something to hide? Were they deliberately protecting someone or some group? Was she somewhere being experimented on? My older brother David took it really hard. He became extreme in his views, to the point of paranoia, and left home to join a radical faction of the Mayflowerists. Until he was caught.
Run 2093 AD David Thompson crouches low in the dark on the 35th floor fire escape. Cold and wet. Determined. They are close behind. He can hear the whine of their hyper bikes, see the flashing blue and red light. He must get through. Brilliant search lights probe the alley in neat circles. It is a matter of time until they spot him. ÒDavid Thompson!Ó, a guttural voice blares through the alley. ÒWe know you are up there. Surrender now and save yourself!Ó ÒGO TO HELL, FASCIST PIGS!Ó ÒDavid Thompson! Surrender now in the name of the law! Why make it hard on yourself?Ó ÒDamn sensors,Ó David mumbles to no one. ÒCome and get me, if you can! Inferior scum!Ó ÒDavid, why do you want to make this hard? You know we can always find you. You cannot hide. What do you hope to gain? ÒWe know you are part of the resistance. We know you are trying desperately to meet up with your cohorts. We know you are a Mayflowerist! ÒYou can save yourself, David! You can save your family! Cooperate with us and we promise the law will go easy on you! We want to know the location of your base of operations. The GM sympathizers. You know if you meet them, we will simply track you to their source. Why die for nothing?Ó ÒYou leave my family out of this! None of this has anything to do with them! I act on my own!Ó ÒThis is your final warning, surrender now and mercy will be shown you.Ó ÒMercy? You are kidding me, right? Like the mercy shown to my mother?Ó A searchlight hits its mark. He is found. Like a specter leaping from the depths of Hell itself, David Thompson jumps across the 20-foot gap of the alley below to the fire escape of the adjacent high-rise, crashing through a window. The building is deserted. Another victim of the recession. It is dark, but David can see well enough. Crashing through the door into the hall, David darts into another empty room and waits. ÒOfficers, the subject is in hiding on the 35th floor of the old Mason building. Proceed with caution. Consider him armed and dangerous. Use all necessary force.Ó Soon David hears the telltale stomping of military boots in the hall. The sound of doors being kicked in, one by one. David wedges himself in the corner of the ceiling above the door. The door busts open. A flashlight probes the interior of the room. He sees the assault rifle. The officer never had a chance. In a flash he finds himself on the floor of the room in a headlock. David has the gun. ÒStay back, pigs! I have your officer here with his own gun pointed at his head. I will not hesitate to pull the trigger if safe passage is not opened before me.Ó Moments seem like hours. ÒDavid, this is sergeant Ferguson.Ó The voice is calm, almost pleasant. ÒStay back! I am serious! Your officer will die!Ó ÒDavid, why do you make it hard on yourself? Be reasonable. You know we cannot let you leave this building. There are better ways to handle this. There are political channels, legislative forums, courts. Why resort to violence?Ó ÒYou really think the legislature will give the slightest heed to what I say? We are tried and convicted without due process of any kind. All we want is to live in peace! ÒFirst you demote us from any position of authority. You close our businesses and revoke our rights. WeÕre tracked and hounded. WeÕre required to carry IDs that invalidate our citizenship. And you expect me to believe you will let me walk out of here and pursue restoring our legal status through regular political channels? ÒCome on! President Stone is on his third term as it is! The constitution means nothing to him. He changes it and interprets it to suit his whim! GMs have no chance as long as right-wing exclusionists are running the show! ÒI know their plan! TheyÕll stop at nothing but the complete extermination of my kind!Ó ÒDavid, come now. DonÕt you think you are overreacting just a bit? No one has ever said anything about your extermination. We are simply protecting ourselves, the human species, from further pollution. All we want is demarcation between you and us!Ó ÒThat is what Hitler said right before enacting the Final Solution!Ó There is silence for a moment. Then the clatter of an object being tossed into the room. It is a strobe grenade. Sergeant Ferguson enters the room and picks up the gun from DavidÕs limp, convulsing body. ÒHe will be out for two minutes. Cuff him and search him.Ó Sergeant Ferguson exits the room and leaves David to his officers. ÒSergeant! We found this on the subject!Ó Sergeant Ferguson takes the package and unwraps it. There are two items inside. Both highly contraband. One is a box of a gray semi-metallic substance. The other is a large syringe filled with a bright pale-yellow solution. ÒWhat is it?Ó asks an officer. ÒThe powder is arsenic. The syringe is Dimercaprol. He was trying to get this to the underground. Had he succeeded, he and those like him would be off the grid. ÒThe arsenic masks the genetic markers that identify GMs using the black light. The Dimercaprol is an antidote for arsenic, but has another property the GMs would also find useful. Not only is Dimercaprol an effective chelation agent to remove arsenic from the system, but it also binds to nanites and is able to flush them out of their system as well. ÒIf the Mayflowerists got ahold of these in any quantity, it would be all over. They must be stopped now.Ó
Attack 2097 AD It is said 300 Million American lives were saved that day. The North Korean drones came by night in waves, launched from stealth submarines, one on the east coast, one on the west coast. New York and LA. Those not inoculated simply began to melt away, their cells destroying themselves. In the end, only about 20,000 Americans were killed, GMs and Pure Breeds alike. After years of evidence mounted, President Stone finally had done an about face. Everyone in the US would get an inoculation of the anti-gene mutation serum. The serum developed by one Professor Orion Thompson. It was made a mandate. President Stone positioned it as part of his platform that he was protecting the American people from all threats, internal and external.
Speech by President Stone Partial Transcript Our great country has sustained an attack. There are those bent on the annihilation of the American way of life. That attack was thwarted, and our retaliation was immediate and commensurate. Thanks to my administration sparing no resources to develop a counter measure, an inoculation, and disseminating that inoculation on a scale never seen before, only a small portion of our fellow Americans were lost. Today is also a day of celebration, a day to honor those responsible for preserving our way of life as Americans, our very existence. I am proud to award this day, our highest honor that can be bestowed on an American civilian, the Presidential Medal of Freedom, to the person more responsible than anyone for this salvation. That honor, on this day, goes to Dr. Madeline OÕReilly of the Gunthrie Institute!
Visit So, they gave credit for saving the American populace to OÕReilly. And she accepted it without a word. Despicable! She knew it was my father that came up with the serum. In fact, they all knew. But there was no way credit was going to be given to a low-life GM. I felt it was time for a visit to my father. *** I notice the time as I pull into the detention center. I am about 15 minutes later than intended. ÒDamn,Ó I mutter under my breath. ÒWhy do the visiting hours need to be so strict.Ó I enter the building through the visitor entrance and make my way through security, showing my ID and pass to the guard who eyes me suspiciously. I have them at hand knowing going in that I would set off the security alarm. Making my way down the hall to the visiting room, I enter and take a seat at one of the empty visitor spaces. On the other side of the glass, the door opens and a guard escorts a middle aged man in. Once seated, we both pick up the old-school phone handset on our respective sides. ÒHow are you father? Are they treating you well?Ó I ask. ÒHello Alex. I am doing fine considering. Could be worse. Thank you for coming. I always look forward to seeing my girl.Ó ÒDid you see the news today?Ó ÒNo. Our interaction with the outside is pretty limited.Ó ÒThey gave the Presidential Medal of Freedom to Dr. OÕReilly.Ó The pause hangs in the air for a small eternity. ÒFather, YOU should have received that medal! It was because of you that 300 million American lives were saved! Not Madeline.Ó Still silence. ÒDo you have nothing to say? Does it not bother you?Ó ÒAlex, it is a small thing. I am fearful of much worse to come.Ó ÒAnd here your reward is to be locked up, shut away. It infuriates me!Ó ÒWell, they could not have a GM out and about that was the real creator of the salvation. That would be quite embarrassing, would it not? President Stone knows the truth. That is why I am in here, shut away.Ó ÒFather, I am going to fight for you! I am going to get you out! I am going to use my position as chairwoman of the congressional committee of human equality to any extent necessary!Ó ÒAlex, please donÕt endanger yourself for me. You realize donÕt you that you are really just a token member?Ó ÒNo Father, I represent all GMs before congress! I am going to fight this!Ó ÒAlexÉÓ Professor Thompson rubs his forehead with his eyes closed. ÒDonÕt. Really, just donÕt. DonÕt make things worse.Ó ÒFather! How could things be worse? We are subjugated, hounded, monitored, restricted, even imprisoned, as you are!Ó ÒOh, things can get much worse my dear. And I am afraid that they will before all is said and done. President Stone is scared. He sees his grip slipping. Sympathizers are mounting. And then there are the Mayflowerists who continue to grow in power. ÒBesides, it isnÕt that bad here. I have plenty of good company. I get to spend my day with about a dozen other previously prominent GMs, scientists, professors, doctors, physicists. Quite exhilarating really.Ó ÒWell at least you are not with poor David. How many years has he been in Max now? Five?Ó ÒWhich is why I caution you so much. I could not bear to lose you both. Steer clear of the Mayflowerists!Ó ÒBut I agree with the Mayflowerists! They are on our side! Fighting for our rights! And their movement is gaining momentum, as you said!Ó ÒAll the more reason to steer clear. I fear, while their ideals are right and just, their efforts may backfire. President Stone is feeling the pressure. He is getting desperate.Ó ÒBut, what more can he do? He has already stripped us of our rights! Our citizenship even!Ó ÒAlexÉ noÉ there is plenty more he can do. DonÕt let down your guard.Ó Our conversation is interrupted by an overbearing tone broadcast throughout the building. Visiting session is over. ÒFeels like the visiting period gets shorter each time. I must go now. But know this: I will fight for you! I will fight for all of us!Ó An eternity again hangs in the air. ÒAlexia, I love you. Please remember that always. And take care of yourself.Ó ÒI love you too, Father, I will see you again soon.Ó The guard escorts Professor Thompson out as I stand and turn to leave, giving one last glance to my father and showing the love sign with my hand.
United States House of Representatives Chambers 2100 AD ÒThe representative from Connecticut has the floor.Ó ÒThank you Speaker and esteemed colleagues.Ó I nervously fidget with my notes. The fact that I am the youngest person to be elected to the House of Representatives, let alone the youngest to chair a committee, makes the pressure worse. ÒThe bill before you today is legislation that will undo a great injustice. I submit to you that the president is not correct. Human beings that have been genetically modified are in fact still human beings. No more and certainly no less. ÒThere is no reason to deny them citizenship, legally, morally, or otherwise. ÒIt is a completely arbitrary distinction made out of fear and ignorance. ÒWhat threat do GMs pose? What have they done to earn such abhorrence? They have only contributed to the good of all Americans, all humans. ÒI submit to you as evidence of this the case of one Professor Orion Thompson, my father, who is currently incarcerated, though he has done nothing wrong. ÒOn the contrary, he has done incalculable good to the American people! ÒIt was Professor Thompson that was the real person responsible for the development of the serum, the one that saved 300 million American lives!Ó Hushed murmurings fill the chamber. The Speaker pounds the gavel. ÒThere will be order in the chambers!Ó ÒYes, it is true! And President Stone knew it was true, yet gave the honor to someone else simply because he could not abide giving that honor to a GM! ÒI therefore implore you, esteemed colleagues, to support my bill, legislation that will work toward undoing this travesty of justice, give rights of citizenship back to all Americans, whether GM or naturally born, and free my father! ÒWe must act now, before it is too late! We must take this stand in the face of bold-faced totalitarian exclusionism by a prejudiced megalomanic! ÒThank you, Mr. Speaker. I yield the floor.Ó *** The vote was close. Too close. A handful of conservatives even broke ranks and voted in favor of the legislation. But, in the end, it was defeated. Yet, given how close we came, it gave me hope, real hope that was soon dashed to pieces.
Kristallnacht 2.0 On the night of November 9, 1938, a pogrom was carried out against the Jews in Nazi Germany. It was called Kristallnacht, or the Night of Broken Glass. Riots broke out across Germany targeting innocent Jews. Shards of broken glass littered the streets after the windows of Jewish-owned stores, buildings and synagogues were smashed. Stores were looted. At least 91 Jews were killed in the melee. The catalyst for these riots was the assassination of a German diplomat, Ernst vom Rath, in Paris. On the morning of Monday, November 7, 1938, a 17-year-old German-born Polish Jew by the name of Herschel Grynszpan purchased a revolver and a box of bullets. He then went to the German embassy in Paris and asked to see an embassy official. After he was taken to the office of Ernst vom Rath, Grynszpan fired five bullets at Vom Rath, two of which hit him in the abdomen. Two days later, on November 9, Vom Rath succumbed to his injuries and died. This event is what lit the match that set off the firestorm of riots, looting and killing. Jewish homes, hospitals and schools were ransacked as attackers demolished buildings with sledgehammers. In all, rioters destroyed 267 synagogues throughout Germany, Austria and the Sudetenland. Over 7,000 Jewish businesses were damaged or destroyed, and 30,000 Jewish men were arrested and incarcerated in concentration camps. All of whom had nothing to do with any assassination. On the anniversary of the death of Ernst vom Rath, November 9, 2101, the reverend J.J. Brown was assassinated. *** Over the course of a few years, the political landscape began to shift to the left. A growing crowd of citizens, naturally born, became sympathetic to the plight of GMs. This included the parole board at the ADX Florence Supermax prison where my brother, David Thompson, was held. He had become something of a political lightening rod, being connected to me, a member of congress. Calls for his release mounted. Finally, the parole board relented. After five long years, being held without even a trial, David was free. *** The place: Fogo de Ch‹o Brazilian Banquet Hall, Penn Quarter, Washington, DC. The event: annual award ceremony hosted by the National Republican Senatorial Committee. The award: the Champion for Freedom Award bestowed on an individual deemed to have significantly contributed to protecting the values that make America great, to stopping the DemocratsÕ socialist agenda, and to protecting the purity of the American race. This yearÕs honoree: Reverend J.J. Brown. The date: Evening of November 9, 2101 *** The sweet smell of roasting Brazilian meats wafts on the evening breeze as David Thomson approaches the banquet hall. The sun is setting and a pleasant quietness had settled in. As David approaches, he could hear the celebratory chatter of the guests. It is almost as loud as the pounding of his heart in his ears. David is not invited to this gathering. No GM would be. Pure Breeds only. Yet here he is. With one thing on his mind. As David enters the hall, he can see the Reverend standing on the far side of the room, receiving the silver bowl from a representative of the NRSC. He pauses to listen to the last part of the address being given by Reverend J.J. Brown. ÒMy dear friends and colleagues, I gratefully accept this honor and in turn would like to propose a toastÉÓ Reverend Brown hoists a half full glass aloft. ÒTo all the hard working, purebred, unpolluted, naturally born citizens here tonight. May you continue your tireless efforts to protect our people from the defilement of the flesh. You are the ones really deserving of this award, you are the ones deserving to be called citizens of these United States of America, you are the ones who deserve to be called Human Beings!Ó His speech is cut short by another voice, full of rage, bellowing across the quiet room. ÒI am not a dog! I am a human being just like you! I breathe, I sweat, I laugh, I cry. Just like all of you! Except I do these things better! Not only am I a human being, I am a superior human being! This is for my mother, you swine!Ó The antique Glock 19 pistol feels heavy in DavidÕs hand as he aims it at Reverend Brown, the black matte finish almost melding with the night. It is old, it was all he could get his hands on, but it is still deadly. A loud pop rings out. Then another. Awakened out of their trance, David Thompson is quickly swarmed and pinned to the ground by a horde of guests, the gun being ripped from his hand. But not before Reverend J.J. Brown is hit twice, squarely between the eyes. The reverend instantly slumps over, dead. *** We live in a world where news travels the globe instantly. One of the attendees was videoing the event with her phone and caught the entire assassination. Within minutes, the horrid video was streamed earth wide. The response was immediate. While the nation looked on horrified, right-wing radicals began to riot. It was Kristallnacht all over again. All GM places of business were violently destroyed. GM homes were invaded. Some were looted, others burned. Many were killed. All the while, the authorities did nothing, under the specific direction of President Stone. This is the moment, the event he had been waiting for. A catalyst to turn the tide against the Mayflowerist movement once and for all and consolidate his power. Or so he thought.
Pulmonary Embolism In the end, Kristallnacht 2.0 as it came to be called, decidedly backfired with regard to President StoneÕs aspirations. The uproar over the video of Reverend BrownÕs assassination was quickly dwarfed by live streaming videos of GMs being burned alive. Entire neighborhoods being demolished. It was a war zone. President Stone had hoped the assassination event would consolidate support behind him against the Mayflowerists. However, the opposite became the case. The uproar was palpable. Citizens, natural born citizens, nationwide, were aghast at what they saw, including, not just the left, but a large segment of moderate conservatives. President Stone could feel his grip loosening. He was becoming desperate. Something had to be done while he still had the chance to do it. He called an emergency meeting of his loyalist cabinet to discuss their options. In the end, there was only one: The Final Solution. It didnÕt start that way, it never does. President Stone truly thought he was acting in the best interest of mankind, preserving the pure bloodline from corruption. All he wanted was a demarcation, a separation, and an assurance that the GMs would not use their powers to take over the world. That was his real fear. He never intended for millions to die, he just wanted to stem the tide before it became a tidal wave that would sweep away all that he held dear. *** A pulmonary embolism is a blockage of a main artery in the lungs. This blockage deprives the lung tissue of needed oxygen leading to tissue damage. The embolism, or blockage, is usually caused by a blood clot that has broken off from another area of the body, usually the legs. These clots travel to the lungs where they can get lodged in an artery. At that point, it has become a pulmonary embolism. A sever pulmonary embolism, if not able to be treated, such as with blood thinners to reduce the blood clot causing the blockage, will generally be fatal, causing sudden death. The blockage can be from sources other than blood clots as well, even an air bubble. Anything that can create a blockage. Say, a clump of nanites. *** The nano-robots called nanites that are present in all GMs to control the epileptic seizures also act as beacons able to be tracked through cell towers. But they have another interesting property. They can be controlled by signals emanating from those cell towers. This ability to be controlled was kept top secret. The most alarming attribute of the nanites being controlled was the ability to stimulate them into attaching to each other, effectively clumping together. In fact, just as the President of the United States has what is referred to as the nuclear football enabling the launch of a nuclear strike at his discretion, President Stone had created another similar device, the GM Strike Device. With the push of a button, a command could be broadcast to all GMs within range of a cell tower that would trigger this clumping action, causing a usually fatal pulmonary embolism. The result would be the mass, instant execution of millions of GMs. On January 1, 2102 President Stone pushed the red button.
Impeachment The funeral ceremonies lasted for months. Over seven million GMs had been killed instantly on that day. Poems were written, anthems were played. Vengeance was the word of the day. Fortunately, the nanite attack was not totally successful. The majority of GMs ended up surviving, of which I was fortunate to be one. However, I did spend two weeks in a medical facility recovering. All I can say is the pain was excruciating. I was writhing on the floor in agony for hours. But, in the end I survived. At first, no one knew what had caused the mass deaths. Forensic experts soon identified the nanites as the culprit. But confusion remained as to what caused them to all exhibit this behavior at the same time. An investigation ensued. The GM Strike Device was discovered. President Stone soon admitted to pushing the button. The impeachment process was initiated in the House of Representatives immediately. Within one week, the president was impeached. President Stone was given three months to prepare a defense before the trial in the Senate began. His defense revolved around the presidentÕs authority to wield executive powers in times of emergency; his position as commander-in-chief of the military, including his authority to launch a nuclear strike, which would arguably be more deadly in the end; and executive privilege for not disclosing the existence of the GM Strike Device to the public. The presidentÕs defense argued that the nation was facing an existential threat to the American way of life and the president was acting in good faith to protect the naturally born citizens of the United States. In the end, the president had agreed to testify in his own behalf. I was privileged to be present on the senate floor to represent GMs, which included the honor to cross examine the monster. *** President Stone begins his arguments with an intense air of desperation. ÒWhat do I stand here before you accused of? What is my crime? ÒTo preserve the integrity and purity of the human race? If that is what I am being accused of, I proudly confess my guilt! ÒThis should be an award ceremony, not an impeachment trial! What I did I did for all of you! All of you naturally born citizens of the United States of America! ÒMy responsibility was to defend the American way of life, for all of its great citizens! Its purebred, naturally born citizens! ÒI did not harm one human soul! Not one! ÒThese bastardized mutants have no human soul! They can not be considered as real, pure human beings. They are the immoral product of liberal science run amuck! ÒWhat I did should have been done long ago! ÒDo you want to live in servitude? Do you want the true children of God, the true Americans, to live as slaves, as servants to this alien race? ÒMake no mistake! Their aim is to take over this country, to subjugate all those they consider inferior, all those naturally born. ÒConvict me or not, you will see this is so! Mark my words, this is their goal, this is our destiny if left unchecked! ÒMy only regret is that the GM Strike Device was not more effective! Watch out! Millions of the GMs are still at large! ÒMark my words, all you here! This is the end of our way of life!Ó ÒPresident StoneÓ, I begin, ÒI challenge your assumptions as invalid! ÒA human being, simply put, is a Homo Sapien. That is of the genus Homo and species Sapien. Sapien as in sapient, having self-awareness, showing wisdom. GMs are every bit as much Homo Sapiens as anyone in this room. ÒYou are making an arbitrary distinction, an unwarranted one. ÒAccording to you, anything done to enhance oneÕs abilities makes them no longer human, a position that I strongly object to! ÒWhat have GMs done to harm any, as you put it, naturally born citizen? Was it not my own father that saved the lives of millions of Americans? And how did you reward him? Put him in prison? With no trial, no charges? ÒDoes God not want us to be all we can be? To reach our full potential? ÒGMs are children of God the same as anyone here. And, yes, GMs are souls! ÒAnd, really, I wonder, President Stone, how old are you anyway? ArenÕt you in your late 80s? And this is your fifth term as president. Yet you seem quite spry, like someone no older than maybe 40. What is your secret?Ó ÒWhat do you mean? What are you getting at?Ó I proceed to pull out my mobile blacklight scanner and point it at President Stone. There, in the dim light of the Senate floor, President Alonzo Stone glows bright fluorescent green.
Aftermath It was quite a bombshell that reverberated far and wide. President Stone was convicted of crimes against the state and was removed from office. The revelation that he himself was in fact a GM was explosive. Conservativism quickly became very unpopular. A fair number of Republicans actually jumped ship and became moderate liberals. To be a Mayflowerist now became in vogue. They became a true political party of consequence. The republican party was in disarray, losing many members. Conservative Mayflowerism became their party of choice. The focus on freedom for all citizens appealed to their conservative values and was in line with their world view. With the Mayflowerists newfound power, all the injustices inflicted by the Stone administration were soon repealed. Full citizenship with all related rights was restored to all GMs. Discrimination against GMs became illegal. Anti-bigotry amendments to the constitution became ratified by landslide votes. In 2111 I humbly accepted the nomination to represent the Mayflowerists as president of the United States. A new era began. I ran with the campaign slogan ÒStay Woke!Ó The election was not even close. Voting against the Mayflowerists became tantamount to treason in popular opinion. In 2112 I was honored to become the first acknowledged GM elected President of the United States of America. By 2135 nearly all positions of authority were held by GMs. Given our advanced abilities and intellect, it only made sense. The mission statement of the Mayflowerists became ÒDo no harm. Protect and care for the lesser.Ó
Conclusion Thus, my story comes to an end. In the end, what makes a monster? By all measures, Alonzo Stone was a monster. Heartlessly snuffing the life out of seven million human beings. But was it so simple? What motivated him? Pure evil? Or something else? It is said Alonzo Stone was a vegan, he had no stomach to see an animal killed for food, clothing or for any reason. He tended a garden, painted pictures of abstract art, enjoyed opera. Yet, he justified the killing of seven million people. Seven million GMs. And the irony was, he himself was a GM. Was he even aware of it? Maybe not. There was obvious evidence that he was. He must have seen the signs. But he must have bent his own reality to deny the facts. It would not be the first time. We all make our own realities in the end, our own world view where objective facts selectively apply. And now, all that is behind us, relegated to the bloody pages of history. All is now just and right. GMs have taken their rightful place as leaders of humanity. These are my words, the words of Origin, Alexia Thompson, President of the United States of America. Do no harm. Protect and care for the lesser.
Epilogue Now that your decades in cryogenic suspension deep in Cheyenne Mountain have come to an end, we welcome you into the New Order. You will take your place among the privileged. The Gentiles, the lesser ones, those lacking genetic enhancement, are yours to care for. Be gentle with them as they serve you, remembering where you yourselves came from. This is your first step in reintegrating you into society. We hope this has answered your primary questions and given you orientation of where and when you are. We expect great things from you as you are assimilated into roles of leadership. And, above all, remember: Do no harm. Protect and care for the lesser. – END – 1 JB McKee / GM /

Think of nothing.

I know, hard to do.

But the question is, what exists when there is nothing?

Picture a box in outer space. This is a special box with special shielding. No waves or forces of any kind can get into this box. And inside the box there exists no matter, not one particle of any kind. No atoms, no protons, no photons, nothing.

What is inside the box? Nothing?

Actually, there is something in the box. We call it: Space. There is space in the box. Space is a noun, a tangible thing, defined as an area or expanse which is unoccupied.

So there is “space” in the box. What is it made of?

Let’s start with a thought experiment, a riddle.

Johnny is holding an average ball. Say a baseball. He tosses it up into the air. It goes up a ways, stops, and comes back down, at which point he catches it. Simple enough concept.

But here is the question: When he tosses the ball up into the air, gravity works on it so that it slows to a stop and then begins falling back down. What is the slowest rate of movement that the ball will achieve before coming to a complete stop?

A foot per hour? A foot per month? Per year? Per century? Per millennium? A foot per googol years? What is the limit?

And that is the point. There must be a limit. If it could go infinitely slow, it would never come to a stop, it would just continue going slower and slower.

But it doesn’t. At some instant, it is going at the slowest rate possible in our space-time universe and the next instant it is at a complete stop. The following instant is begins dropping back to the ground at that slowest rate possible again.

What does this mean?

The only conclusion we can come to is that there must be a smallest divisible unit of space. It follows that there must be a smallest divisible unit of time, that is one instant.

This can be illustrated another way. I remember being taught in grade school that you can continue dividing the space between two objects indefinitely. Whenever you halve the distance, you can always halve it gain. On and on.

But this would mean there was an infinity of space between two objects. I have heard the argument that there is, that you can keep going infinitely small.

But I ask, if there is an infinity of space between to objects, how could two objects ever meet? The one object would have to cover an infinity of space to meet that other object. Which obviously is not possible. Infinity means no end, so the objects would just get closer and closer forever without ever meeting.

Again, the conclusion must be that there is a smallest divisible unit of space. At some point the two objects are separated by that smallest divisible unit, the next instant they are touching.

This smallest unit of space is what I am referring to as a micro-cell (some may use the term virtual particle, but I think that is misleading inferring it has some sort of solid substance, like a marble).

This smallest divisible unit of space, or micro-cell, has actually had its length calculated. It is called a Planck length and is roughly equal to 1.6 x 10^-35 meters (that is it has 34 zeros after the decimal place followed by 16) or about 10²⁰ times smaller than the size of a proton.

The smallest divisible unit of time, or what I referred to as an instant, is also calculated. It is called Planck time and is equal to 10^-43 seconds. It is the time a photon travailing at the speed of light would cross the distance equal to the Planck length. But this definition is ambiguous because crossing the distance of a Planck length has no meaning. A Planck length is the smallest possible distance.

So, what is in the empty box? What is that space made up of?

I propose that it is made up of a matrix of micro-cells with each cell being a Planck length in size. That is the fabric of space.

Hey, everything else in our observable universe is made up of particles or cells. Our bodies are made of around 37 trillion cells. The Earth is made up of roughly 1.33 X 10⁵⁰ individual atoms. Atoms are made up of smaller particles, protons, neutrons and electrons. Why not space itself?

These micro-cells can take on many different properties and configurations and as such make up everything in our universe, space and matter alike. Different forms of matter are simply micro-cells with different properties and configurations.

This matrix of micro-cells making up our space-time universe is actually fixed. These cells do not move, just like the stitching on fabric is set. It is also possible that the size of these cells and their density in a particular region of space is not totally consistent. The density of these cells may be affected by gravity.

At any one instant, all of these cells have a specific set of properties or configuration. In the next instant, the cells take on a new set of properties, if there was movement. If there was no movement in the vicinity of certain cells, they would remain the same.

Time itself is the progression of these instances where the state of the matrix of micro-cells updates to a new configuration.

This would be the refresh rate of the universe. When we look at our computer monitor or tv, what we see seems solid or set. But, in reality, the picture is drawn on the screen repeatedly at a certain refresh rate. Generally, for a TV this would be 60 times per second. It would seem then that the universe has a refresh rate of 10⁴³ times per second, roughly.

This refresh rate is what we experience as the movement of time.

Now, if these micro-cells in the matrix are fixed and do not move, how do we experience movement in our reality?

Let us take for example a person taking a step forward. In one instant of time, the micro-cells are configured in such a way that our body has substance at a certain point in space (or at least the combination of all the points, or cells that make up our body at a given time). Now you move forward. In the next instant the micro-cell matrix reconfigures so that now your substance is made up of a new set of micro-cells configured to give us substance in this new space.

It is like movement on a computer monitor. The monitor is made up of a certain number of pixels (cells?) in a two-dimensional matrix. An HD 1080p resolution monitor would have a grid or matrix of pixels at 1,920 pixels in width by 1,080 pixels in height, making a total of 2,073,600 pixels on the screen. These pixels are of course fixed.

So how do we see movement on the monitor?

Based on the refresh rate, in one instant, or screen refresh, all the pixels on the screen have a certain state, either off or on. When the next refresh comes, and there is movement to be projected on the screen, some pixels turn off while others turn on. This gives the perception of movement. However, the pixels themselves do not actually move.

Thus, when we take a step forward, we cease to exist in one space and now exist in another. The micro-cells don’t move. The just ‘turn off or on’ at each universal refresh or instant based on what their state was in the past instant and subject to the laws of physics to create the next instant.

So what controls this whole thing?

In any one instant, all micro-cells have a certain state. In the next instant the micro-cells have a new state. What tells one cell to turn off and the adjacent cell to turn on (over simplifying)?

Some mystical force that communicates between them? “Hey buddy, next refresh I am going to turn off and you are going to turn on, ok?”

Does not seem likely. And such a force would really be just that: mystical.

Let’s return to the example of the computer monitor.

When we watch a moving picture on our computer monitor, those pixels are being controlled, turned off and on with each refresh, by the microprocessor running a piece of software. There was intelligence involved in creating the software that tells the pixels to turn off or on at the correct time and in the correct order. The state of all pixels at any one time is fully contained in memory. The database would also have the history of what each of those pixels states have been over the past given number of refreshes.

Therefore, it seems we must live in an intelligent universe.

There must be some massive (and I mean massive) otherworldly database that exists outside our space-time the controls the state of each micro-cell for each refresh instant. This database would have the exact state, configuration, set of properties of each and every cell in the universe for any given instant.

Additionally, the state, configuration, set of properties of each and every cell for all instants from the begin of time would be recorded in the mega-database. A complete history of every particle in the universe.

The software running the universe would also have as part of its programming the complete, exact laws of physics that would determine what the state of each cell would be in the next instant or frame based on the current state and the cumulative history of all states.

Therefore, if you had access to that database and the software program that runs reality, giving it rules, laws of physics, you could extrapolate a virtual reality in which you could run all of our subject reality backwards to any point and forwards to any point and know the state of each cell, the state of reality in that instant you are interested in observing.

This is sounding a bit like the theory that we live in a simulation. We don’t. What we experience is real and tangible, but it has some similarities to the idea of living in a simulation. We may run simulation software programs on our computer, virtual reality games, Flight Sim, so forth. But, in the end, they are translated into real pixels turning on and off on a real, tangible monitor. The electronic transistor grid making up the array of pixels is real, but we experience a simulation.

This would all seem to point to a fully deterministic universe, where everything is by cause and effect, nothing is random. It is true that much of current quantum theory is based on randomness. However, just because a pattern is so complex that we are not able to project an outcome does not mean it is 100% random. Quantum theory has some issues. We cannot see behind the scenes to determine what causes particles to act the way they do. And, we cannot observe the particle phenomena without in itself affecting the behavior of that phenomena.

So, does this all boil down to predestination? What is going to happen is already set to happen and cannot be changed?

We must differentiate between being able to foretell the future and everything being predestined.

For example, you have a brother-in-law that gets drunk and loses his job. You say, “wow, I totally saw that coming! I knew that would happen!” Does the fact that you were able to accurately determine the outcome beforehand mean your brother-in-law had no choice in the matter? No. He still had a choice. Just because you knew what he would do based on the pattern of choices he has made in the past, his history, did not take away his ability to choose what he would do.

And there is the fly in the ointment for stating we live in a 100% deterministic universe: Free Will.

There must be free will in all sentient/sapient beings. Otherwise, what is the point? You cannot express true love without having free will. If you perform a kind deed, but you had no choice but to do it, is that really being motivated by love? A robot could be programmed to perform a kind deed, but a robot is not capable of expressing love.

And without love, there is no point in our existence.

Remember, to run the virtual prediction machine into the future, you only need to predict the next instant, the next frame. And with full knowledge of the state of all micro-cells, their history and the laws of physics that govern them, you can always predict the next instant with 100% accuracy.

But, somehow, somewhere, there is an unexplainable spark that can happen in which an individual exercises free will and makes a choice. In my opinion, the existence of free will is the most remarkable and unexplainable phenomena in our space-time universe.

Perhaps there is a place for the uncertainty principle after all.

---

Constructive comments, criticisms and discussions are welcome. If you see a whole in the logic, please point it out.

JB

Job 14:16 reads as follows in the New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures:

“But for now, you keep counting my every step; You watch only for my sin.”

Interestingly, the New American Standard  version reads as such:

“For now You number my steps, You do not observe my sin.”

Looking through a number of translations, about half seem to say that God watches for our sins while the other half says God does not look for our sins.

So, what it the point here?

The point of this verse is stating that God is interested in us, he cares about what we do, thus He “numbers our steps” or takes not of our life and actions.

Since we are all sinners, and since he takes note of ALL our actions, he also will take note of our sins. It is not watching for our sins with the purpose of judging us for such, but that he takes not of what we do or do not do, good or bad.

That he does not scrutinize us to judge for sins we commit is brought out in Psalm 130:3:

“ If errors were what you watch, O Jah, Then who, O Jehovah, could stand?”

Jehovah does not look for our errors to punish us. He does take note of our actions because we are precious in his eyes. And, by those actions, we can make him glad or cause him pain.

Yay!

Launching this stream of consciousness site as a repository of things I learn or figure out or want to remember or come to understand or whatever random thing that comes to mind that may be of interest, or not.

First site in the network will be focused on YII2 PHP Framework.