Friday, May 27, 2016

Error 404

            Fame and fortune came to a screeching halt as fate approached the finish line. The end of the world was no longer a matter of if, but a matter of when. Heroes, born in a time where no such thing exist, inspired obedience while villains, the privileged elite, enforced laws only they were exempt from. The world became the villains stage as they premeditated man’s future to their design. Only the rich grew richer, the system was never broken; it was built as so. Anyone who opposed were found, purged and eradicated.
            Oblivion loomed in every corner as more revelations came into light, invoking mass civil unrest. Those affected by their official’s corruption rallied together, unionized a militia and marched to the capital but were stopped dead in their tracks as the police turned against the people; protecting only those who held the power, money. Those protesting for change were silenced, exploited into submission. The rest of the world were informed to abide without questioning. To trust those who oppress with good intentions.
            The world kept tittering, spinning into a future obsessed with order and chaos. Many felt sorrow while few bathed in paradise. Others struggled to see the light of day. Slaving away, investing in a life that will never be theirs; inspiring those who watched all the while. Only the privilege reeked the benefits from the corruption that engulfed the world. It is they who have the power to turn things around for the better; for all of mankind. But why would they steer away from something that has worked in their favor?
            Chitter, chatter; ring, ring! Excitement buzzed throughout the commotion as a cocked-up news room kept busy informing the world of the illusions they were governed by. People rushed passed one another, back and forth, as phones rang without an answer. They were all too preoccupied, waking the world from the lies the sheep cling to for a guide, for some hope. One journalist sat in her station as she researched contents for her article. She alone was assigned to find the source, the rumor, the threat that endangered us all.
“Error 404,” in bold read the webpage as she came to a sudden dead end. She sighed as she refreshed the page, hoping to find content to back up her piece. “Page not found.” She leaned and tossed her head back, she stared at the ceiling. The phones kept ringing, the chatter kept echoing. All the whispers blocked her clarity for a solution. She wanted to pull her hair, scream at the top of her lungs, anything to keep her mind off her assignment. Exhaling did little to nothing to ease her mind, frustration. Again, she retyped the website. She hit enter but the same bold letters read, “Error 404.”
“How’s the research going, Rey?” Jean asked as he entered her cubical.
“Dean,” Reyna jolted, “I need you to decode this for me.”
“Sure, scoot over.” Jean replied. Reyna stood, cleared her mind from all the distractions as she paced back and forth in her cubical. Jean sat in her chair and hacked through the system. He broke through firewalls, opened back doors and encryptions. Once he hit enter the page that read, “Error, not found,” suddenly poured vital revelations Reyna was looking for. “There’s a reason why the government codes this kind of information. The deep web is where they burry the truth. Only hackers, decoders, can rummage through their security.”
“You are a genius, Jean.” Reyna proclaimed. “Where would Exposure be without you.”
“Probably with some other low life hacker with little to no morals. They’re in high demand now. Luckily for them, there’s plenty of us to go around; you’re surrounded.” Jean laughed as he left. “Middle schoolers can do it better, but that would be considered child labor. It’s frown upon amongst union workers and bad for our image.” He was now outside Reyna’s cubical, “I’ll be with Dorian if you need me.”
Reyna was back on her expedition to finding the truth. As the webpage loaded, her eyes widened in horror and fascination. The worlds speculations stood right before her, as facts. She scrolled through the deep web. Files on illegal experimentations, assassination plots to chemical poisoning were all too fictitious; like some plot in a movie. The truth is never hidden, she came to realize. It is merely buried as a conspiracy spread by government officials to hide their crimes for if the people knew what their government were doing with their taxes there wouldn’t be a government to overthrow. Reyna printed everything until she stumbled upon another unsettling fact.
 “The rumors are true,” the documents verified as she kept scrolling, printing religiously. The screen began to glitch. “What?” Her monitor then turned off. She tried to reboot her computer but the screen never revived. “Unbelievable.” Her computer tower crashed as she tried again and again but to no avail. She took her findings and made her way to another computer, hers no longer functioned. She needed a better, more secure computer. One she’s come to know is far more reliable than anyone she knows. One name remained circling above her head.
The floor room reeked of coffee and cigarettes. Smoke clouds hung throughout the ceiling, fogging the station. Back and forth, people kept passing one another; all full of unpublished material ready to be materialized. Reyna turned the corner to where Jean and Dorian stood. Their editor proofread their articles. “Jean,” she called moments later, “I’m going to need your computer. Mine crashed.” Jean excused himself and brought Reyna to his station.
Without missing a beat, Jean logged into his computer and made room for Reyna to sit. “Guess someone doesn’t want me to expose the truth.” Reyna handed Jean her papers and enlightened him on her findings. Jean stood amazed as he summarized every page. Historical staged events to rigged elections. Hit list filed by government officials targeting average citizens and non-citizens to foreign and local officials. Global terrorist organization groups working with government officials. Manipulations to annexations, corporate espionage to brainwash; it was all there.
“I was just about to click on this one file when suddenly my computer crashed.” Reyna explained as she retyped the website Jean had hacked through.
“I can see why.” Jean replied. “Look at this,” he pointed to a page she had printed, “Back in Roswell, the incident was staged to lure peoples trust back to the government. They manipulated an entire town to draw attention away from what the government was actually doing. They recruited scientists and Hollywood executives to brainwash those who knew the truth to make them seem like some conspiracy nut jobs. Jesus.” Jean flipped another page. “They’re lacing the water supply with dumbing chemicals that will make people susceptible to their officials every word, in an essence, mind control.”
“They’re doing far more things than mass control.” Reyna added. “And I have proof.”
“Listen to this,” Jean commented, too lost in Reyna’s findings, “There are agencies in the government with objectives to seek those ‘awake’ to prevent revolutions against their officials. It’s like one big movie plot.” Jean read on, “There’s even names of renowned Hollywood producers who have ties with government officials. They’re working together to spy on certain people to gain inspiration for their next blockbuster by hacking those writing their own.” Jean turned another page, nodding in awe.
“They’re monitoring people for a reason. Our safety sure as hell isn’t.” Reyna input.
“They were probably monitoring you too.” Jean replied.
“Do you think they can disable computers wirelessly?” Reyna asked. They silently questioned, wondering the inevitable.
“It would explain why your computer crashed.” Jean answered. “We did hack the system, opened Pandora’s box.”
            “If you think that was the end of it, think again.” Reyna replied. “Remember that article I was assigned?” Jean nodded in response, buried in Reyna’s findings. “Well I found information to back it up.” Reyna was back on the deep web, back to where she was before her computer crashed. “Here,” Reyna found the file she was looking for, “Here is the proof.” She clicked on the file. Just as the page was loading, the computer mysteriously glitch. “It’s happening again.” The screen faded in and out, the tower began to spark.
“They are hacking us.” Jean answered. Reyna stepped aside as Jean countered the attack. “They’re clever but I hacked their manual a long time ago.” Jean texted a series of symbols, letters and numbers; what more is there is to hacking? The tower stopped sparking, the screen froze for a moment. As the computer rebooted, Jean and Reyna feast their eyes on the future of mankind. “Reyna, tell me you are printing this.” Plots for a mass exodus hidden only to the general public were now in Jean and Reyna’s possession.
“It’s already begun.” Reyna read a list of steps needed, and accomplished, in order to prepare for an extinction, “They’re poisoning the population, deforming the lower class into retarded savages. They’re seeking and eliminating those who defy their new world order to keep the rest of the population in fear and obedient. We hacked all of their plans for world domination,” she raised the pages sliding out of the printer, “We can make a difference. The elite ruling class are preparing themselves for a nuclear extinction that we can prevent.”
“They’ve even recruited an elite army to arm themselves for protection. Look,” Reyna pointed out, “They built underground pods that can sustain harmful radiation with years supply of food and water. The locations to the underground pod entrances are everywhere and they’re connected but coded with a password. Only those with the key are granted a life in the coming new world.” She turned to Jean, “It’s all here Jean, the end of the world. Our apocalypse, Armageddon.” She paused, denning the truth that stood before her very eyes. She shook her head in disbelieve.
“The rich are planning the apocalypse to purge the world of all its evil.” Jean read moments later. “Only in this case, the lower class are the evil the world needs to eradicate.” Jean sat beside Reyna as she concealed the horror in her face. “Names and accomplices are all there too.” Jean added. “We can stop them. They’re planning another genocide because they fear the poor will purge the rich. What is this, the 90’s? These people are insane, fear has become their center. Is this the only way they’ll accomplish their goals for total control? They’re completely delusional. Surely they can’t see poor people as savages, they’re just people.”
“But look around you.” Reyna commented. “People of privilege fear those unfortunate because they think those unfortunate want everything the privilege have and will do anything to get it. Why else do they arm themselves with state of the art security system? It’s what everyone wants and when everyone wants the same thing, no one can.” She turned to Jean who shared the same expression. “The people need to know their fate. We must expose the truth so people can come together and put an end to this.”
“It will only create more mass panic.” Jean replied. “It’s what they want so they can go forward with their plan. Don’t you get it, why else would the media, owned by the very same corporations who are plotting the end of the world, be revealing what the government has been suppressing for years? The ruling class want civil unrest so that they can convince the other elites to join the apocalypse they’re creating. It’s all part of their plan, and we have the evidence to prove it. We must go to the authorities.”
“But what if they’re doing this so that we can come together instead of overthrowing each other into extinction?” Reyna questioned, seeing every possible outcome. “What if they’re testing the public to see whether or not they, the world, are worth saving? There’s no reason as to why the rich would eradicate the world simply because of their fear towards those less unfortunate. Without the lower class, who will support their products, inventions? Minimizing the population will only dwindle their currency. Its illogical.”
“Unless fear has taken over them completely.” Jean answered. “Don’t forget, that’s what they run on. They use fear to control, manipulate, people into trusting them. Besides, there are far more poor people than there are rich. We are the 99 percent; they are just one percent of the population. We have them surrounded. Why else would the government be targeting the lower class? Minimizing the poor population with cancerous chemicals.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Reyna replied. “We must go public with this, then we go to the authorities. Let the people decide their fate for themselves.”
A week later, Reyna publicized her article in hopes of making people see the only chance for survival anyone has, the world for that matter, is to unite regardless of which social class they belonged to but it was too late. Those who lingered in the shadows, the watchful eye, blocked Reyna’s message of unity with propaganda. The agents of chaos muffled her voice with paranoia and illusions, changing people’s perspective for the worse. The end of an era was at hand, just as planned. Nothing could be done to change their minds.
“People just want to live.” Mocked the oppressors, the elite ruling class. “When we ourselves want the exact same thing only some rather live a life of crime when left to their own devises. We invest in a world where obedience is ours to control without the hassle of asking, and why should we ask? Our forefathers foresaw a nation where people cherish, praise, us for our noble cause to breed a perfect top notch elite world. We have upheld all of their wishes.” They recollected, “It’s not as simple for one to build a life we didn’t see for them anymore. This is what the people want, order without chaos.” They all congratulated themselves.
“And what of this rebellion?” The child who ruled them all, the master puppeteer to an invisible sovereign deity, breathed through his oxygen mask.
“Just another addition to our ever expanding conspiracy book.” Millyen Vaultz answered. “Nothing we haven’t dealt with before. I mean, people still believe aliens are abducting them.” They laughed in unison. “No better time to go forward with our plans. Gentlemen, the future has never been so bright. Everything we’ve foreseen has come to fruition. All pieces lay where they should. The new world is prime for harvest.”
“People will know what’s coming.” The master added.
“Some do.” The Illusionist replied. “But no one believes them, no one ever believes them. We make sure of that.” She smirked. “Those who speak the truth are seen as delusional individuals with mental issues, out of touch with reality because they forget who they challenge. We are the powers that be. We will everyone’s future to fit our design. We’ve evolved, more organized than ever before. Our order is not one to mess with, that is for certain.”
“Besides,” Vaultz recalled, “What can the people do? The only power they hold is believing they have a vote. The only thing they can do is inform the sleepers of what’s coming but that will only get them so far. Men, it’s time we burn this world to the ground, rise from the ashes as the phoenix once did and bring forth a world perfect for our descendants to pass on our reign. This world has grown dead, no longer fit for our labor. We must begin anew. Birth a world spoiled in elegance, fit for Gods return.”
“Anew we will fulfill.” The master breath as his heart monitor murmured beside him. “Our ancestors survived the great flood. They fought the Atlantic. They thrived through the native genocide. Rose above the civil war era. We by extension will carry our forefather’s legacy of designing a world free of all its evil. We, gentlemen, will solidify our reign. We will be remembered for all generations as the founding fathers of the new elite world.”
The end of the world came as scheduled. The few who could reserve sanctuary went down to their bunkers, just as told. They sealed themselves from harm’s way as the rest of the world blindly accepted their fate. The outside stood free for just a split moment as the privilege hid. No one stood divided from social class or creed. No one had more than the other. The world was at peace, until the sirens came roaring in the distance. Underground the elite remained, waiting for the screams to end.
The sky trembled as the military machine approached. An ominous threat lingered in the air as people became alarmed. A woman screamed as she realized the inevitable. The sun vanished as bombs fell. The fires grew a mile high as nuclear toxins exploded in every corner. Innocent lives were gone in the atomic blaze. Their cries for help were muffled, only their all-seeing God watched as his children annihilated each other without mercy. Their screams infused with the blaze were haunting to those underground. No one came to their rescue. No one came for their souls.
The nuclear catastrophe lasted for years as calculated. While the elite roamed in their underground community pods, the flames up above engulfed all corners of the world; incinerating the old to usher in anew. The new birth was long but necessary. History would never remember those lost in the streets. Earths new children would never mourn the evil their forefathers exterminated. Time will only tell of its rise from the ashes, it’s ascension to a perfect privilege world.
“Help,” came a wounded survivor buried among the rubble, “Help!” He shouted but the flames were louder. Through the dancing inferno, a bright luminous orb hovered above. He reached towards the light, desperately gripping for a savior. The military helicopter patrolling the rummage aimed its beams towards the wounded survivor and torched him to death. They torched them all to death. The only survivors came from underground bunkers.

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