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.

Prophets for Sale

Heroes towered together, in the Fortress of Man, as time spun the world to the verge of a global nuclear catastrophe. Chemical warfare was perfected, targets were located, missiles were locked and lines were crossed. Paranoia spread across the world as people came to find the secret their government suppressed. The people knew their lives were expendable to their government for profits. They knew their towers fell that eleventh of September by the lust for greed, power. They knew their heroes were villains.

People band in the masses, marched to the capital unarmed, not for a proclamation or a declaration but for their official’s incarceration. The official’s public resignation counted for nothing, people wanted justice. The people wouldn’t stand and let war criminals walk free with their loved one’s blood in their hands, not after the revelations brought upon by an independent agent. He alone revealed everything the government kept hidden against the people they were inaugurated to serve. He alone dared to free the world from the shackles of liberty.

It was the French revolution all over again only this time no royalty, those in power, were hung or beheaded because the powers that be had learned what needed to be done in order to maintain the upper hand against those who dare defy them. Why else would government officials be keen as to monitor civilians? If they know where the revolution begins they know where to send their puppets to take control of the situation. An elementary scheme all too flawed to those defective towards their dumbing immunization chemicals.

 Riots brawled in the streets as the police armed in military gear suppressed those in rural parts of the revolution. All media outlets, owned by corporations, exploited those who joined the cause; anyone who opposed their new world order. Writers, members of the elite cult, mocked those who lead the revolution in their shows, movies, by turning the world against them; pinning them as the terrorist. Their antics were lost to those aware, to those awake from their deceit, to the rest of the 99 percent.

The masses had grown wise to the government’s manipulation propaganda machine. Two thousand years of lies had finally caught up to the master puppeteers. While the media kept quiet on the matter, the internet weaved multitude of links for people to find and join the truth. Little did they know, those links were created by the government to track those leading and joining the revolution. As the media dumbed its sheep, the internet enlightened all. It wasn’t long before people started to notice the government censor and block that truth as well, fueling the revolt.

“He is not one of us nor will he ever be.” The new king proclaimed. His brethren stood around while the old king’s daughter remained in disbelieve. “He broke the rules, Princess. So I ask again, who here will help this illegal stray?” He gestured to a file on the table, a picture lay expose. “Who will go beyond the line of duty just to rescue an outsider who stands against us?” He waited for an answer while the old king’s daughter urged them, anyone, to see beyond their borders. One bravely stepped forward only to be killed on the spot. “No one is going to his rescue,” he addressed the Princess, “I am absolution!”

“If my father were still around,” the Princess began, “He’d see you behind bars.” The Princess kneeled beside her fallen hero as she closed his eyes for the last time. “My father would have shown mercy to that stray because even the old kings knew what it took to keep a nation, not just sustain one.” The new king chuckled. “We have lost!” She exclaimed to the rest, to the other heroes, as she took her stance. “We have become puppets to the forces of evil. Greed has made us forget who we were, what we stood for. That outsider may not be one of us, but neither were we. Please,” she pledged once more, “Be the hero. Prove them wrong.”

“They aren’t going to do anything unless I say so.” The new king replied cold-heartedly. “Don’t forget where their legions lie.”

“Then I’ll ask you again,” she implored.

“But you already know the answer, Princess.” The boss reminded her. “Besides we never go back on our word. What makes you think he can be trusted? It was you who sold and purged all of his unpublished work, why would he trust you?” He laughed while he sat on his throne made of silver and gold. “You see now, how someone can alter their perspective of you once they’ve received our answer. An answer that would have changed their lives for the better. An answer they weren’t expecting. Do you see now, Princess, who he really is?” He looked her in the eye, “You should be thanking me, if not he’d betray you first.”

“His trust was never needed because he’s better than that. We used to be better than that.” The Princess confessed. “We need him just as much as he needs us.” The Princess leveled with the new king once more. “Don’t forget why you turned your machine on in the first place. You went out looking for his insights, or has our majesty forgotten whose vision it was to move our troops out of Syria? Had we not listened to that stray, all of your platoons would have died; we would have been one squadron less. Prime for an irreversible loss.”

“Don’t tell me you have fallen for his cheap parlor trick as well.” He answered exhausted on the matter. “He is fooling you, why can’t you see that?”

“Because the only one being fooled is you.” The Princess proclaimed. “If you or anyone in here won’t help him, then I will.”

“You dare leave the circle?” He laughed, bewildered. “For an outsider? What would your father say? You know you can’t leave my presence; it was your fathers dying wish for me to keep you protected. Have I not?” He stopped, “Go soak in your silk bath, Princess, I’ll come up when you have simmered down.” He settled back in his throne, “I’ve had heard enough about him. My answer is final.” He took a bite of an apple sitting on the table, “Take her away.” He ordered his minions.

The Princess shook his minions away, proclaimed he would regret his decision and exited the room. The Princess didn’t in fact go to her chambers. Instead she sought to do what the heroes should have done a long time ago, the right thing; but do people ever do the right thing? To some, doing what’s right means doing what’s wrong. Yet it is they who forget the deed and the purpose is what deciphers the act from being good or bad.

Deep in the trenches of the Middle East, a heard of soldiers raided a small city near the borders of Iraq. Bombs exploded in every corner as innocent lives scattered from the debris. Smoke concealed the sun as people ran for cover, not sure where to go or where to hide. Small orphaned children cried as they stood calling for their missing God. Women screamed in their native tongue, urging anyone they crossed to follow them to safety. Brave civilians fought back with whatever they could find, but it wasn’t enough. Their city was purged in the name of justice, greed.

Gas grenades slowly creeped into their hiding spots, suffocating them to death. Hospitals were bombed as they fell to their foundation, killing all who resided inside. People ran not sure why their homes were being destroyed. American soldiers cleaned the streets with the native’s blood as they sought to change the world, one third world country at a time. Off in the distance, a small militia entered the crumbling city as they made their voices heard.

Their battle cry echoed with the bombs as they charged those who dared knock at their door. Frightful women and children desperately gravitated towards the militia for they were all the hope they had left after the gore they had just endured. The militia pulled them aside as bullets fired in the sand, aiming for their heads. The militia assured them their safety as they entered the gauntlet massacre. Shots were fired as the battle edged, each side slaughtering one another in hopes for the others defeat. Victory was declared as the outsiders placed their flag on top of the foreigner’s capital.

The militia gathered whoever limbed alive and took them across the border near a town unclaimed by the soldiers. There, they regrouped and armed themselves for yet another war ignited by justice. The militia men fed and clothed the lost, the weary. Supporters mended the injured. Volunteers gathered the dead. Hope was lost in the name of liberty as the foreigner’s home were taken by free men under orders.

“This is wrong,” Jone began as he sat by the fire surrounded by the injured. The militia guarded the grounds. “How can the world be oblivious to the slaughter caused by the peacemakers? Where have all the good people gone?” He asked himself over and over as cries of pain and misery whispered in the night. A child next to him sobbed as he muttered the bloodshed of his family. Jone did nothing to comfort the kid for he had no clue as to what to say. It was his people, after all, who had invaded their homes.

The full moon beamed while the stars harmonized in the sky. Clouds hovered as the night whispered effortlessly; surrounding them, comforting them. Light in the distance gleamed as bombs exploded, war kept the night warm. A man bearing wood came as the fire dimmed. He wrestled the barks of wood into the fire, warming those who sat around. He dared not look up for he could see the injustice in their scars.

“Why are we attacking them?” Jone asked the man bearing wood. Only he understood his language. “Does the world not know it was us behind 9/11 and not them? Are people not awake from the lies our officials keep spreading?” He shook his head, trying to erase the images of innocent bloodshed. “This is wrong.” The man bearing wood said nothing, he contemplated as the fire grew.

“Oil is a finite resource.” Doe finally answered as he made a spot to sit. The fire cracked as the wood burned. “No one alive, aware, are surprised at the extent officials will go to just so they can keep a sense of stability. Putting the blame on some foreign country is a lie much easier to convince. After all, 9/11 did happen and we all tuned in to watch. Did we do something about it afterwards, yes. Was it the right thing to do, no. People weren’t too fond of the Iraq War just as much as the Vietnam War but they still fought them. It’s not the people who have all the power, so why blame them?”

“Because they contribute to our official’s corruption by fighting their wars.” Jone replied. “They murder innocent lives for medals, for honor. If people aren’t in charge, why fight a war they didn’t start?”

“Some, if not all, do it for the money.” Doe answered. “Money is the root of all our problems. Others, on the contrary, are fooled or believe they are doing their duty by protecting their country; we all have our reasons.”

“But how can bloodshed be justifiable?” Jone asked, frustrated on the matter. “Why can’t people see it’s our officials to blame for the world’s problem and no one else? They are the ones in power, so shouldn’t they be put to blame? The French learned that a long time ago. When will the world follow through?” A woman carrying a basket handed them food and water. She said nothing as she passed. “All those websites in the internet that expose the truth, with evidence, isn’t enough to incarcerate our officials with crimes of war. Protesting for their incarceration will only get you arrested, hacked and exploited. How is any of that right?”

“What makes you, or anyone, think those websites are being run by people who represent the masses and not just one percent of them then?” Doe replied. “If they reveal the truth, why hasn’t anyone been arrested? Where’s the change their website declare? Wouldn’t you suspect the government is behind all of those websites as well? Wouldn’t they be just another propaganda machine for their puppets to spread? To keep their lies relevant.”

“Don’t forget,” Doe recalled, “The government runs everything, their puppets are everywhere. Recruiting people to spy on those who oppose or don't belong in their new world order. Scouting for unsung heroes to purge. Storing useless data in order to use as leverage and exploit anyone who dares stand against them and their cult. It’s how tyrants keep their power, nation.” He paused, “It’s what they did to my friend only no one believed him, I didn’t believe him. Not until I became a target.” They remained silent, the fire burned.

“Is that why you joined the militia?” Jone asked.

“No, why?” Doe questioned.

“Why did you join then?” Jone seemed intrigued.

“I didn’t.” Doe answered. “They came to me.” He reflected, “I had a friend who challenged his officials because he could; he was a citizen after all. I, on the other hand, was brought to America because my parents wanted a better life not just for them but for me; a life our ancestors had before the settlers arrived and were forced to migrate elsewhere. My parents faithfully believed, blinded by the lies officials pass for truth to keep their heads free of speculations and scrutiny, in the America that once existed. If it ever existed.”

Doe tossed a few more barks of wood into the fire, fanned its flames and kept the warmth strong. “It’s unfortunate that my parents and the millions of refugees fleeing to America weren’t aware that the America and her everlasting beacon of hope was just an illusion for those seeking solace where they are not welcomed. I was blessed enough to have met someone who didn’t see color or race. He helped me in ways any human could. He showed me that there are still good people around.”

 “When my friend joined the revolution,” Doe dug deeper, “He implied that the New World Order, good and evil, had team up against him; that the government was monitoring, exploiting him. Singling him out from the others who opposed. Eradicating them one by one. He kept shoving his paranoia down my throat, urging me to believe him but I didn’t. Why would the government spy, single out some small city kid with no ambitions? Don’t they have bigger problems on their plate? All he did was challenge his officials to better their congress, like any other citizen wanting a fair government.”

“It’s not when the media announced the government were tracking non-citizens when I began to understand what he had meant.” Doe pondered for a moment. “He killed himself before I could tell him I believed,” Doe spoke to the fire. “I didn’t blame him for his suicide because I understood. I knew then what he had meant by having the government spy on his every word, overwhelming him with paranoia; pushing him to suicidal thoughts, mad. Everything I did, all the side jobs I could get to the life I was living under the government’s watchful eye suddenly became television content.”

“You too?” Jone interrupted.

“I didn’t know what to do.” Doe replied. “I contacted Anonymous Headquarters, all those websites declaring they stand by and fight for the people, seeking help but I only came to find they too were bought puppets. They began to do what the government and the elite cult were doing, exploiting secrets to sell their propaganda.” He paused, “I didn’t know who to go to. The only one who knew what I was going through, my only friend, killed himself because no one believed him. I didn’t believe him.” He closed his eyes to forget.

“With my father deported,” Doe continued, “I couldn’t fill my mother with my inconveniences. It was bad enough she was diagnosed with cancer. Hearing my propaganda would have only added extra stress, it would have been too much for her to handle. So I kept to myself thinking it was for the best.” He stopped, “I then came to find that the government had deported her as well while I was gone.” He tossed a few more barks of wood into the fire. The light grew warmer.

“I went to the closets church I could find to seek shelter,” Doe commented a moment later. “Because that’s what they’re there for, one would think. I spoke to the pastor and confessed everything. He told me I could spend the night until I sort out my differences. That same night Homeland Security came for me, the pastor had sold me out. They came for me but they weren’t going to take me back to Mexico, they always have other things in mind. Whatever it is they wanted from me, God only knew, I sure as hell didn’t.”

“They were going to keep me in their detention center, interrogate whatever information they could get out of me.” Doe addressed Jone, “I could already see their torture chambers when suddenly we got ambushed. At first, I didn’t know what was happening. Guns blazed, names were called. It all happened so fast. I thought that was the end for me when the doors opened and there they were, the militia. A woman called to me, ‘Stay or come with us,’ as she killed the guards. I’ve been under their custody ever since.” Doe ended. “What about you? How did you get involved in all of this?”

“Well,” Jone began, “Like your friend, I too challenged my officials because I could. As a citizen, it’s my right and obligation to challenge my officials because it’s my life in their hands. No one seems to grasp that concept. Whether you’re a citizen or not, you live here too; all voices count. I lost numerous of friends because of my rebellion on social media. Even my family turned a blind eye on what was happening around us. My father kicked me out of the house and told me to do something better with my life. I stayed with a few friends before they too found out about my resistance, my place in the revolution.”

“No one wanted to get involved in fear of losing their jobs, their stability.” Jone guessed, not sure of the real reason. “When millions of others have lost theirs, so what about them? Where’s their justice?” He paused, “No one likes to get involved in fear of the government put them on a list and hack their secrets when there are agencies made for that very reason, to explore people’s secrets. There are branches of the government, cults, that recruit for espionage. Sure they give their reasons, to keep our nation secure, yet violence seems to escalate.”

“Why have the government spy on everyone if crime keeps escalating?” Jone asked. “How has the NSA, FBI or the CIA alone not prevented all those mass shootings in the past year, decade? Since they have a close eye on everyone with rigged phones and satellites that monitor everything, why hasn’t anyone been stopped?” Jone paused. “It’s not until I came to find that the government is run by an elite cult whose sole purpose is to seek and illuminate hidden truths when I decided to write a book about it.”

“Like you said before,” Jone compared, “I too began to see the truth. Everything I saved, every unpublished book, in my pen drive was exploited on television, commercials and online by the all-seeing cult. So I filed a law suit against these agencies that were exploiting, hacking, my data but the more I inquired for their charges the more I saw my life be expose on the television screen. My past was referenced in commercials, secrets were revealed in movies and talk shows. They’ll say no to you but yes to your ideas. It didn’t surprise me as to how much one can benefit from your talent without your consent when the government sets laws design to keep a close eye on people.”

“The more lawsuits I inquired against their best puppets the more did I see just who in this world had sold their fate to evil.” Jone stated. “Every morning I’d wake to hear the news recite what I’ve written, done, the night before. Topics of what I wrote in chapters, said to loved ones, were theirs to comment, emulate and exploit. All of my unpublished books were spoiled, purged because I didn’t belong, I oppose, their new world order. It’s not until I stumbled upon the militia’s mission when I finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel. The universe had at long last delivered me a ray of hope.”

“Finally,” Jone exhausted, “Someone sees what I see. Someone out there knows the truth and are doing something about it. So, I contacted the militia. Next thing I know they pay for my plane ticket and I’m off to Lebanon. I’ve been with them ever since.” He reminisced, “Four years of injustice, war against my own brothers and sisters. Years without seeing someone familiar, family.” He shook his head in despair, “This is all wrong.” Doe said nothing. “Our government invoke civil unrest, war, for profits while undesirables are being exploited by the elite, altering history to their design. Justifying them playing God.”

“The rest of the population do nothing in hopes of being spared just so they can keep a roof over their heads, food on the table and their secrets safe from the watchful eye.” Jone paused, “If everyone has a purpose, why was theirs to be a sheep?” Jone finished, anger caught in his throat. “They only suppress, monitor, those who defy because that’s how you keep a slave nation under control.”

“Is that not for profits then?” Doe later asked. “Our country fight for black gold while these foreigners fight to keep their homes. Homes cost money to sustain, gold lets us keep our homes so aren’t we fighting the same war? Are lines not blurred? War is never the answer but it leads to results, yet nothing has been fixed. War has merely become a profitable repetitive tradition with no end in sight. Peace can be the answer and just imagine what bountiful results that would produce.” The fire began to dim. Doe tossed the wood around to keep it alive.

“If you didn’t join, why are you here?” Jone asked. “If no one is keeping you hostage, why not ask them to take you back home?”

“Because in me being here,” Doe began, “I’ve noticed how lost the militia are. Granted, I’m here on my own free will but the more I stay the more I see how desperate for a guide they’ve become. People who are awake gravitate towards the militia because they see them fighting the real enemy, us. Our government trained these rebels to fight their enemies but now that they are fighting to protect their homes from us, they’re labeled as terrorist for resisting. Those easily fooled believe the militia are terrorist but those who aren’t know better. It’s unfortunate that those numbers are low.”

“Take you for example,” Doe pointed out, “You were on the right path only you got discouraged because you didn’t get any results, justice. Because they hacked and purged your life they’ve committed a crime punishable by law; corporate espionage, terrorism, exploitation, obstruction of justice, tampering of evidence, official oppression. How is an elite cult who everyone knows to illuminate truths not be held or seen liable in a court of law?”

“Because not everyone would believe.” Jone answered. “They use the government as a shield to execute their crimes. How is anyone to correct the system when those in office use the charges exposing their corruption as a means to target and exploit those making a difference?" Silence took over. "Most of them are members if not eagerly anticipating a membership, anyways." Jone ended, "Not everyone benefits from their blessings.”

“Then wouldn’t that be up to you to make the world see that truth?” Doe asked. “If not you, then who? Who out there in this big brave world of ours is wise enough to stand against these giants? Intimidation is the only thing protecting these suppressors. By them spying on everyone, their intimidation's get real and personal but isn’t that the acts of a desperate tool? A tool who knows they’ve been defeated? Why else keep a close eye on the public, retaliating by exploiting those they spy on? Seeking small victories to replace their endless defeats.”

Doe paused for Jone to reply but he remained silent. Doe noticed there seemed a change in Jone as he continued, “Are we the people not better, braver than them?” Doe kept the dimming light from fading. “You are the power they fear because you are of a different kind; that is what makes you, us, targets. They’ll let you in on their little cult, gang, but if you don’t measure up to their unrealistic standards they’ll feed you to the sharks.”

“Our officials forget along with the elite cult,” Doe added, “We, the people, are what steers this nation to the future. We are the future they can’t oppress. Those keeping track on unwelcome people who inspire revolutions, to them, we are mere prophets on sale. Free thinkers exploited, hacked by the watchful eye but to the rest of the sleeping world we are their heroes, unsung legends, urging us to free them from the lies they cling to. That is why we resist, defy, because we weren’t made to be controlled. We were made to live.”

Wind blew the embers up into the air as they pranced away then disappear into the night. Jone and Doe remained in the circle, surrounded by those labeled terrorist. The fire warmed as it cracked. The night slowly transitioned into dawn as the stars faded effortlessly by the approaching sun. They looked around and shared the pain of losing their homes to the forces of liberty and justice.

“You can take those who wronged you to court,” Doe suggested, “Just know their members will tamper the truth. Know this,” he added, “It is not the win but the exposure that counts. Expose one elite in court can lead to the rest and the cult they hide behind. You wouldn’t be the first or the last exposing them. Once word gets out, others will join in. It is they, though, who are being persecuted, silenced, in the process. Care to guess why? Because the all-seeing cult know there are countless of others who defy, expose, the truth that jeopardizes their old new world order. For every member there are ten million nonmembers ready to purge, overthrow them into poverty.”

“Puppets have strings and strings leave trails that lead to the puppeteer.” Doe quoted. “Once you reach that age when you figure out who the real enemy is, they will find you. Just like they found the others before you. They will send their minions after you, exploit your life in their shows, movies, ads but they’ll only be proving you right. So go home, Jone.” Doe finished. “Go home and change the world there. It’s become your destiny.” Doe gathered the rest of the wood and made his way to another dimming fire.

Jone reminisced as Doe’s suggestion settled. Suddenly, Jone had a whole new perspective. His heart lightened, his mind raced and his spirit rekindled. At last, he thought, Jone had found a better purpose in life. He handed the kid who mumbled the loss of his family his share of food and water then made his way to the camp. There, he would pardon with the militia and head back home where he can sort out the problems of his country there.

“Excuse me.” The Princess apologized as she ran into Jone. “My name is Erra, I’m looking for someone.” She extended a hand to Jone as she stood to dust the dirt off her shoulders. “It’s a long shot but I’m asking everyone I meet or stumble upon, have you seen him?” Jone seemed lost and disoriented. He turned to where Doe had left and noticed he was gone. Jone then turned to Erra as she added, “I didn’t get his name but he’s tall, Hispanic, dark hair.” Erra blushed, “You probably don’t know who I’m talking about, sorry for the interruption. Thank you for your help.”

“No, wait.” Jone replied. “What do you want with him?”

“So you know him?” Erra asked.

“I might,” Jone answered. “Why haven’t I seen you before?”

“Would you happen to know where he is?”

“I’m going to need a name or a detailed description.” Jone commented. “Do you know how many guys fit that role right now?”

“I don’t have much time,” she replied. “I need his help. Please, this is urgent, point me in the right direction. Where did you see him last?”

“Here,” Jone ushered her, “Let’s start here.” Together, Jone and Erra entered the camp where the injured moaned from the pain that killed them. Dawn approached with the sound of explosions. More soldiers heard the grounds as innocent blood smeared the Holy Lands. Woman and children ran for their lives. Men stayed and fought to protect their homes from the invaders. They were no match for the sons of liberty. The militia stumbled as they retreated with whoever they could rescue. Jone and Erra were caught in the fire.

“Where is she!” The king demanded as he stormed out of the Princess chambers. His minions ignorantly muffled for explanations as he passed. He scrolled through their monitors, searching for the Princess whereabouts. He looked and looked until he saw her exit their fortress, their Watchtower of Sanctuary. “Who let her escape?!” He wanted answers and he wanted them now. No one dared say a word.

His temper rising, the new king made his way down the tower and into the dungeons. There, his prisoners rot to death; their corpses float in the sewers. Far in the deepest of corners, one prisoner remained, the old king, locked forever in his cell. Kept alive, left to die slowly but surely. The new king took a torch and toyed with his last remaining captor. He laughed as the old pitiful sack of rotting flesh he once called king begged for his release.

“It seems that we have found ourselves another one of your successors,” the new king began, “My liege.” The boss walked back and forth, admiring himself as always. “He’s stuck in your old ways, the idiot.” He paused. “All that potential and still they remain clinging to the past when it’s the future they should embrace. Our future. They need to know your old ways are over. This is the new world, my world. We no longer need old kings like you, no, we have found so much more. And I have delivered just that, without your guidelines.”

“So,” the king finished, “While the world spins ignorant, we illuminate with excellence by the insights we are monitoring. I transcended this worthless cult you handed down to me and I’ve made it worth wild. No other king has done the things I’ve done, just to keep this recycled nation you call home. And I’m not finished, not by a long shot. I’m going to sell your country to the terrorist. I’ll make them the president, what would you think of your nation then, my old king?” He smiled, “To know the world mourned a king who lives just to watch his nation deteriorate.” He laughed, maniacally.

“Your daughter left the circle,” the new king remembered to mention, “For an outsider.”

“Even she knows what it takes to keep a nation.” The old king replied.

Furious, the new king stormed out of the dungeon leaving the Princess’s father locked in his cell. High did the elevator ascend as he searched the world for his missing Princess in the palm of his hand. His country came alive as the sun rose behind him. His minions scrambled for resolutions while his noble puppets remained exposed buried in lawsuits. The Princess was his only key to turning things around. Without her his agendas would only free the world from their deceit, according to plan. No one leaves my circle.

West of Asia

            For as long as time could sustain the illusion, coming to America was a dream not many could have the privilege of becoming true. Crossing that great divide was a feat all on its own. No borders or laws could stop immigrants from all pillars of the world to arrive in a nation that once was held as a beacon for hope. Its liberty statue grounded near the bay as she beamed her eternal flame to all come rich or poor, attracting the lost and weary as they sought for a new beginning. A new beginning towards a better life.

History remembers when America stood united under the same flag. The constitution and its anthem run through the veins of every man and woman, reminding them their rights and freedom. Time remembers the glorious victories America once held. Every battle won in the name of justice, liberty to all. The power America once reigned over the lands now lay in ruins, lost forever, as I remember.

            That world no longer exist. The only place America stands is in history books, foretelling of the rise and eternal fall of the first greatest nation modern times has ever known. Where one falls others will rise, is what history teaches. Where one nation burns, another ascends to its throne. It’s the culture epoch theory no one remembers to forget. The thesis of every nation is set in stone, its future written in the stars for the enemy to prey on.

            Though many perished in the fall our great king, the Imperial Emperor of Asia, spared those he deemed worthy. Billions of innocent lives were gone in the disarray, slaughtered into submission, and though our beginning may be gruesome it is no different than any other nation ascending to its throne. Few would agree our king, Imperial Emperor of Asia, set the flames ablaze but few would forget we were simply taking what was ours to begin with.

            We, the people of Asia, funded what was known as America. Christopher Columbus, the founding father himself, sought to establish a better trading route for Asia’s convenience. Though they omit that fact in their history books. Had it not been for Columbus ties with Asia, there wouldn’t be an America to look back on. We stabilized their shares in the stock market, manufactured their toys; we brought them the future. We produced everything they own, to the clothes on their backs, expecting to receive the generosity we had extended.

It wasn’t long before our then king realized we would never get what we had given. Our king was patient. He accepted what little scraps America’s top wealthiest sponsors could give with caution. He stood back and watched America rise as they became the enforcers of an unstable world. He did nothing as America revealed its true color but when the moment came, he struck where it mattered most.

            Currency shifted to the yen, giving Asia the investment she lost in America. Their president declared war again but failed to deliver. Our emperor gathered a small ally and with their help, we boycotted the American war machine. While their solders fought with loud machinery, our brothers starved them to death. America was not prepared for a famine, a move our king had foreseen. America fell while Asia rose, the world stabilized.

            As Asia grew into a global empire, America retreated to its colonial era. The once great united nation split into small third world countries. The last remaining states of America formed into what we call today the Warrington States for that is all they know, war. The rest were conquered lands given to Asia’s most trusted allies. Our emperor shared his new found territory with the nations who fought with Asia.

            Though chaos is a natural order trying to mend itself, something good came out of the great fall. Tinsel-Town was created to bring tourists from all walks of life to share and experience the global nation we know today as Asia. Tinsel-Town is a state where all cultures mesh together to depict our history, unity and victory. Tinsel-Town is Asia’s Disneyland for those who remember. Most of Asia’s wealth stems from Tinsel-Town, which makes it highly guarded with strict laws placed by the neighboring Warrington States.

            Many can be learned by the fall of what once was America. Our king reminds us every year as we celebrate those we lost during our victory. Honor is our pride, glory is our throne and though the Warrington States continue to fall, we stand. The world lost a nation only to gain global domination. Asia rules as one while its noble allies thrive. We know no secret elite cult other than the crumbling states struggling to remain illuminated. We know no hidden agenda other than the usual Warrington States plotting for Asia’s demise. The year 3999 is Asia’s year of enlightenment, our reign.

            “Too bias?” Xi asked as he waited for his mother to read his essay.

            “There is nothing bias about this paper,” Sen marveled as she set his paper down, “It’s to the point with immense historical accuracy.” She glanced back at his paper, “I would add how Asia was once only China. Also, briefly explain how China united with Korea, before they were known as North and South Korea. Don’t forget about Japan too. Good use of referencing your facts though.”

            “Are you doing his homework?” Mesakuya objected as she entered Xi’s room. “You said you would be done by then.”

            “I am done.” Xi replied.

            “I’m not doing his homework,” Sen proclaimed, “He asked if I could evaluate his essay.”

            “You had all semester to finish that and just now are you getting it done.” Mesakuya snarled, “The shame! How are we ever going to enjoy this family retreat if both of you are too focused with assignments?” Mesakuya placed Xi’s clothes on his bed and crossed her arms as she waited for an explanation. “We planned this trip for a long time and just now have we been granted the permission from our great emperor to go. I had my sights set on this family vacation for months, please don’t bring work with you.”

            “We were both surprised the king agreed to let us go,” Sen added, “We weren’t expecting a reply from him for another year, remember. But, we shall do as you say. Besides this looks like another ‘A’ for our honorable student.” Sen marveled at Xi’s penmanship while patting him on the back. “Let’s go make some memories!” Sen placed Xi’s paper on his desk as she and Mesakuya exited his room.

            The Woh family packed their bags and began their journey across the great lake, west of Asia. Sen and Mesakuya sat beside each other as they planned their adventures in Little Russia leading up to their final destination, Tinsel-Town. Permission from the great king himself was needed in order to travel out of Asia for the Warrington States threat was imminent. Their threat was futile for the Warrington States held no power, but they were persistent in vain.

            Xi listened to his muse as the Atlantic shimmered underneath. He glanced towards the horizon, intuitively watching the scenery change from sea to land. As the plane landed in Azteca, they were off to begin their trip to Little Russia. Astonished were his eyes everywhere he turned. So this was Florida, Xi thought, how time has changed. The history of America lay fresh in his mind for he has learned plenty during his studies. He took his phone and opened an app containing the history of America. He skimmed through its digital content as he searched for information on Florida, now known as Azteca.

            “Xi, put that away.” Sen asked before Mesakuya could. “You know your mother has been anticipating this trip, let’s not bring her mood down, okay?” Xi hesitated as he tucked his phone in the back of his pocket. Together, they entered a crowded narrow street market where everything from the past to the distant past is valued at a price. Ancient stones from the war are sold for pennies. Murals depicting the fall are held at public auctions and books telling of scarring pasts are priceless.

            The market was packed with people wondering corner to corner, trying out the latest technology. Tall wide transparent tubes concealed people as they entered into holographic realms, projected into another world. Glasses framed interactive talking moving pictures. Hover boards and children on jet packs soared through the air. A lot has happened since the new birth, all worth wild. Xi’s turn to travel into a holographic universe was next. Sen and Mesakuya stayed behind as they examined a talking three dimensional mural on the other side.

            Before long, they were out walking past a bookstore cornered nearby. Xi instantly bought a book titled America the Great and began to read its pages. Sen and Mesakuya entered a private auction while Xi remained outside, reading in a small bench. With every page came pouring new revelations. Never had he read of the old America like this. America, portrayed as the hero and not the villain. Xi analyzed the book cover once more, debating in his head whether the book was based on facts or pure fiction.

            “America,” came a distant voice nearing from the crowd, “The Great? There was nothing great about this shit hole in the first place.” Xi closed the book and followed the voice. “Names Nina, nice to meet you.” She extended a hand to greet him. “You alone? On vacation? Where you from?” She bombarded him with questions as she sat next to Xi. “Catching up on your history? You must be a Scholar. How far do you have until your diploma Master Yoda?”

            “My name is Xi,” he replied, bewildered by the barrage of questions at hand. “I’m waiting on my parents.” He collected himself, “I’m on my last year actually. Getting real close to that diploma. Then I’ll have to get two more before completing my degree. You?”

            “I dropped out.” Nina answered carelessly. “I got too cool for school, as they used to say.” She reclined while soaking in the sun.

            “What did your parents say?” Xi questioned.

            “Nothing. They’re dead.” Nina replied casually.

            “I’m sorry to hear that.” Xi apologized. “I didn’t…”

            “Of course you didn’t,” Nina answered. “No one does until they ask.”

            “You here on vacation then?” Xi inquired, changing the topic.

            “No.” Nina asked, “Why are you?”

            “Yes.”

            “You want to ditch this place and go somewhere cool?” Nina suggested as she inched herself closer to Xi. “I know a place where we could go. Its tons of fun.”

            “I don’t know.” Xi debated, “I’m with my mothers.”

            “So tell them you found a spot you can chill,” Nina informed. “With people your age.” Xi turned to a shop, anticipated for someone familiar to appear. “Come on, it’s one hundred percent illegal and all exclusive.” Xi analyzed his chances then made a decision. He quickly sent a brief message to his mothers informing them of his whereabouts then followed Nina’s lead. It wasn’t long before Xi received a message on his phone from his mothers allowing him his adventures.

            Nina took Xi far away from the market. They crossed a garden hidden above a hill when Xi began to hear where Nina was taking him. Music echoed in the distance as they approached Nina’s spot. Loud built-up angst screamed in the air as people danced, paraded and played. “We call this joint Motanos,” Nina began, “By the smell of it.” Xi felt a slight breeze and smelled what she had mentioned, a sweet floral aroma with an undertone of burnt grass. His nerves eased, his stress calmed and his worries melted the deeper they went.

            A junk yard full of rusted cars and purged shops scattered throughout the wasteland as rebels rioted in their mischief. Xi couldn’t help but to smile as Nina held his hand through the valley of the youthful dead. Neon graffiti murals colored the vastness. She was his guide in a new cruel world. A world long gone sold by another. A world he was a part of. “These are my dogs.” Nina introduced a group of wild boys. They held their love interest close while gulping alcohol and inhaling blunts. “They’re harmless until they need to be but don’t worry I’ll never send my dogs after you.”

            Xi introduced himself to the others as he and Nina settled in a torn down limo. The boys didn’t ask many questions nor did Xi. The music infused with their laughter muffled their conversations. The festival marched on as Xi and Nina communicated. “This place is all new to me. Research and experience are all two different things. The rich history this part of Asia possesses are inspiring and haunting all at the same time. The history of the native people would become the history of the American people in time, who knew?”

Xi noticed Nina seemed bothered as he finished. “Do you guys live around here?” Xi later asked, changing the subject.

            “We don’t have a home, Scholar.” Nina finally answered as one of her friends passed the blunt to her. “We are homeless,” she paused, “We make everywhere our home. We purge the lands as we make our stand. We roam as freemen with no rights. It’s what makes us bold, brave and tough. You won’t find any other race like us because we are all that’s left.” Xi seemed intrigued. “We are the last descendants of the old past. We savage the ruins because this land still belongs to us, Americans.”

            In an instant, Xi stood up and walked away from Nina. Nina’s friends did the same, only they were armed. “What?” Nina asked calmly, “Did I say something? What’s up, Scholar?”

            “Nothing,” Xi played it cool, “It’s just your kind aren’t welcomed in the Asian kingdom of Azteca. I mean, it’s our law; my…”

            “Outsider,” Nina’s friend interrupted. “He’s one of them.”

            “It’s cool, Cero.” Nina calmed him down. “Put the blade away.”

            “He’ll have us deported or worse.” Cero cried urging the rest to take his side. “You brought an outsider to our sanctuary, you know the rules Nina. We have to kill him.” Xi stepped back with arms up, pleading for his life.

            “No one is killing anyone,” Nina replied as she stood in front of Xi, “Put that blade away! He’s harmless, he won’t go to the authorities. He’s chill, be chill Cero.” She then turned to Xi ignoring the sharp blade aimed towards her, “You won’t have us arrested for being in our own land, would you?” She asked Xi.

            Xi looked around, feeling cornered to a wall. “It’s my duty to keep my nation secure from illegals.” Three other guys blocked Cero from killing Xi on the spot while Nina remained facing him. “Your people lost this land, and like the natives, you are no longer welcomed in it.” He paused as he felt the group side with Cero. “Nina, you must understand, please don’t let them kill me. You’ll be charged with murder, if deportation is not enough to lock you away.”

            “You know what,” Nina began, “For a Scholar, you sure are ignorant. How can you be enlightened with wisdom and still hold a mentality to that of a bigot? We aren’t dangerous people, Xi, we are simply born in a time where our kind crawl in the mud while your people walk on silk air. Scholars were meant to improve this world not ruin it. I may not have been well educated but I at least know when someone is wrong.”

            “Nina, please.” Xi plead.

            “You want to know where we live?” Nina asked. “We live in a third world country where there is hardly any food to eat. We live in a rape culture society where it is socially acceptable to take any woman any man wants. We live where people are bred to work and not live. Is that what you want for us, for me?” Nina locked eyes with Xi, “Dig deep in that enlightened mind of yours and ask yourself who the real bad guys are.”

            “Your people took our land, our freedom,” Cero added, “You took our rights!”

            “Then leave. We took only what belonged to us to begin with.” Xi defended himself and the honor of his people. “Asia invested heavily in America expecting to receive the same generosity. We were patient but never received recognition. Your president declared war over us, if you remember correctly. We might have not started the war but we sure as hell finished it, honorably.” Xi turned to Nina in hopes of her seeing his perspective.

            “You’re standing on a thin wire Xi,” Nina replied, “Don’t forget where you stand. Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe seeing you hold the history of my people in your hands made me see the good in you but now I see you are just like them, a sheep reaching the peak of faux-enlightenment; all the while denying the existence of others. People like you don’t deserve a place in this world and we are here to make sure of that.”

            Nina sent her dogs against Xi. The others let Cero go so he could do his duty. Motanos was a secret spot unknown by the Asian authorities where illegals seek refuge from their starving crumbling country. Nina and her gang were the rebels the authorities placed a bounty on. Nina and her gang were the few who threatened the Asian reign in the western world. They were the people Xi’s emperor sought as weak and unworthy. Xi would later know the misery and pain of the American fallout as Cero took his blade and sought justice for his people.