James Porteous | Hawkins Bay | Excerpt
The Internet of Every Little Thing. That is what they should have called it. Or the Internet of Cookies & Ice Cream.
That screams out: Trust us! You’ve got nothin’ to hide if you’ve got nothin’ to hide. But Jesus, they do suck up every single piece of data.
And if you don’t like it? Too bad. Man up and shut up, pussy willow. Keep your head down and your mouth shut.
Never mind the NSA, CIA, FBI and the other alphabet soups working in the shadows.
Or the software and hardware back doors and the front doors and the side-doors.
Never mind the virtual agent-provocateurs and the world-wide GPS monitoring and cell phone tracking.
Or the cradle-to-grave mass surveillance of every single thing anyone has ever said or done.
The Internet of Every Little Thing. That’s the real deal.
Blackstar’s mind is wandering tonight. It is a long shift. Twelve hours. No breaks or meals. Why do some nights seem longer than others?
Well, mostly because working for Homeland Security Unit’s “Islamic Infidel Twitter feed (@IItf)” is one of the worst jobs in the world.
His office in CyberU(nit) -he likes to call it his cell- is in the middle section of the Freedom Bunker, among dozens of offices and bunks and meeting rooms. It is home to both CyberU and the cocky DroneBoys. And who the hell knows what else.
It is clean and everything but they did not plan anything. There are no windows, no AC, no support, no flesh to look at, no music, no hope… Just 12 hours of Islamic Infidel Twitter feed babble for the mindless masses.
And what a mindless mass. They have no idea, right? Every morning they sign onto their bluescreens and spend the rest of the day typing whatever comes into their peabrain heads. They are petulant nitwits complaining about other people complaining about nothing and then the next person complaining about their complaining about their complaining…
If you could harness all the stupidity in that endless stream of bullshit you could produce enough energy to feed the world.
Never mind. It is a job. He has food and booze. And they pay his rent. Well, he stuffs himself into a bunkbed every night. If you want to call that living.
Okay, here we go. A clownboy from Chicago has joined the Twitter feed. @BobbySearson1515.
Is he using his real name! Oh, man. That is too funny. The feds will be all over his skinny ass by nightfall. Such waifs. They fall out of bed every morning. That is the only explanation. They fall out of bed and hit their heads on the way to the cement floor.
@BobbySearson1515: I want 2 quit my job at Walmart and join the @IItf struggle. How do I do it? Pay my own way.
Good Lord. Like he’d ever make enough money to pay for his own flight. But fine. Maybe he is sincere. Stupid but sincere.
@IItf: Thank you bro. You are among the chosen. PM @IItf and we will email deets. Praise b2u
There. Another convert. The poor saps. They just eat up this crap. They are so desperate to belong, right? To anything. Even if that anything is fake.
He can understand. That is why they gave him this job. He was a mindless waif, too, before he joined ‘the cause.’
But they must have seen something in him. He is the voice of the Islamic Infidel Twitter feed. No one looks over his shoulder, telling him what to say or what not to say. It is just him, feeding the masses propaganda twentyfourseven.
Even the ‘real’ Islamic Jihads have a dozen feeds going twentyfourseven. Only their feeds are actually recruiting people for an actual cause.
He is certain they watch his feed. Every now and again they spew something identical to what he said the day before! So this is a righteous battle. It has to be fought twentyfourseven.
@Eatmenuts: Bro. u earnest, yeah? u righteous? u r hero sandwich.
@IItf: peace bro. We fight good fight, twentyfourseven
Nice touch. Right? Blackstar likes to incorporate ‘real’ life into his feeds. It makes him feel better. It is the little things that keep you going. That is what his mother used to say. Well, his half-mother. Well, his father’s girlfriend for two weeks. That is what she said. Well, once. Okay, once.
Jesus. He wonders where they are now. They are probably dead. He’s not being morbid. But they probably are dead. He does not really know how bad things are on The Outside. It is probably chaos. And the weak don’t survive chaos. They are not meant to, right? They are -what do they call it again?- fodder? Yeah. Sure. Say that. Who the hell will even know if it is wrong word.
@CalamityJane33: loving da feed man. fightin’ good fight till we die. peace
@IItf: peace bro. may the light shine down upon u
@CalamityJane33: I am gurl, man
@IItf: we are all brothers under da skin
@CalamityJane33: true that peace man. peace
That was nice. She was in the moment. Honest and happy to be in the ranks. That makes it all worthwhile. You reach out, you speak, you bring people in.
Sometimes he wishes he was working for a real group. Maybe they could bring about real change. But it is too late for that.
His readers must picture him dressed in white rob, sandals, full beard, eating dates from a tree.
They would shit if they could actually see him. Actually shit if they actually saw.