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Wilderness: A Novel by Jeff Roman; Intro
Caffeine_Wizard
Registered User new member
Registered User new member
"The future of Ameria will be in three pieces. One piece will contain the Loyalists; another piece will contain the Radicals; and the last piece... the last piece will contain the 'Don't Cares'." Simon arose from his booth, leaving his tip, gathering his coat, scarf, and gloves, and exited the diner.
For many years now I've been considering various positions, the output of my life given the proper input. The conditions in Ameria are becoming extreme, the country on the brink of an all-out civil war. The documentation from Simon will prove an insightful history book after this is all said and done. My position on the matter is strictly observant... I can't get involved. What I can do is get out. Leaving Ameria would be the only wise condition if and when the civil war occurs. Any day now the orders will be given, the country will split, and the streets will no longer be safe for men, women, and children.
But on to my various positions, my turn out in this life. One option is to move to Quelog, hide away in one of the enchanted cities, taking up a position as a painter (already having experience). From the books I've read on Quelog, there seems to be much opportunity in a land of merchants, peddlers, and tourists. Its recent expansion into Tun has made the country even more prosperous, encouraging farmers to occupy the fertile land, starting new crops for the new season. I remember the advertisements for Tun. The pictures of land, the testimonies by various senators and professional agriculturalists. Sometimes at night, lying in my bed alone, pictures of me cultivating this new land would appear in my mind, sometimes my dreams. A peaceful life would finally happen if I decided to make the move to Quelog, to the expansion Tun.
However, there's some objection in my mind about relocating to Quelog as well. The recent elections for Comurati gave way to the new leader, Sistin Brochting, a revolutionary in free-thinking and one for new methods. Although he appears important, strong, and understanding when televised or written about, I have my doubts about him. In the near future, I imagine a new placement of strict laws on the merchants, who currently have a free-form standard for the dealing of their merchandise. I also see an end to tourism as the main source of income in Quelog. This Brochting fellow seems determined to make Quelog "more prosperous," which could lead to the downfall of a once great country.
Aside from escaping to Quelog, the thought of traveling abroad on the Capri Seas for a few years has entertained my imagination. An old friend of mine, Edward Duplont, worked for an oiling corporation on the Capri Seas, just off the coast of Rilveld, for ten years. His letters to me were bursting with adventure, suspense, intense storms, and observations on his job, his co-workers, and himself. I've thought about the life of a sailor, working aboard some random vessel, taking orders and acquiring a sense of personal satisfaction. My mother used to say to me when I was a child," Max, you're crazy. Sailing, traveling for a living... it just won't happen. You can't make a living that way. You'll be a failure. Why can't you become interested in what you're learning in school? Why can’t you be interested in business, mathematics, or science? Why must you dream about unrealistic aspirations?" My mother's speeches always upset me; they most-likely are the cause for my depressed childhood. Yet, the option of sailing might not work out so well either.
A few years ago, when I had a position at the local swim club, an accident happened which left me paranoid about water. I really don't care to go into detail about the situation, but it's painful to think about water now, always having that situation stuck in my mind.
Besides these two options, knowing they are the better of other options, there is the chance of being drafted, knowing that I'm still enrolled, a citizen, to the Loyalists. However, I'm not "loyal" anymore... I'm a wicked man now. If I ever told someone about my plans, or regarding my new political stance on Ameria, the Schutzgaab would open up an investigation on me, and leaving Ameria would no longer be an option.
Unknown to my ideas is my wife. I can't let her know. Never. She's already dragged in by the outbreak, and it's not safe to tell her my resentment. To tell the truth, there's no trust between us anymore. The last time I told her anything, that time being a remark towards her sister, I was bombarded with insults and inquiries by, and like it isn't obvious, her sister. So if my plan does go into effect, I'll leave without saying anything; no notes, clues, or minor hints will be left behind. She'll have to guess for herself... the bastard.
Anyway, I've been planning out these plans for quite some time, fine-tuning all instances and patterns, calculating full-proof layouts for my departure. For many months I've been working late at the office, in reality consuming myself with my mission. Will this work out? Can a happy ending be the outcome of this ordeal? Given the circumstances, the security patrolling various borders and towns, and the chance of execution upon my capture, I'm nervous. Staying put would be safe for the time-being, but not permanently. Running for liberation is dangerous from the beginning; but it'll become safer the further I get from the borders.
Why, however? Why am I so dead set on leaving Ameria? Why am I against this war? As far back as I can remember, there was no point towards me being a Loyalist. Never attending District Chapter meetings, tuning in to the televised addresses, nor voting in Loyalist elections, my account with the Loyalists has been inactive. Every week, the Government would send letters to my home, asking about my inactive stance. I would reply back with a counterfeit reason, send in my five dollar "apology" fee, and then I'd be fine until next week.
My situation isn't clear, and as far as I can tell, not many others are planning on leaving. They're probably frightened. Just like I'm frightened, many of the others can't come up with a way to escape American forces. With each passing day, televised broadcasts, propaganda against the parties, the chance for anything to happen is slim. My original intent was to bring a few people along with me... all of us helping each other, using combined knowledge to get past various obstacles. That plan has failed, however, knowing I've lost trust for many of my friends and family members. In war times, men lose clarity of mind and disappear into an abyss of self-destruction, manipulation by outsiders, and the fear of not believing in something.
For many years now I've been considering various positions, the output of my life given the proper input. The conditions in Ameria are becoming extreme, the country on the brink of an all-out civil war. The documentation from Simon will prove an insightful history book after this is all said and done. My position on the matter is strictly observant... I can't get involved. What I can do is get out. Leaving Ameria would be the only wise condition if and when the civil war occurs. Any day now the orders will be given, the country will split, and the streets will no longer be safe for men, women, and children.
But on to my various positions, my turn out in this life. One option is to move to Quelog, hide away in one of the enchanted cities, taking up a position as a painter (already having experience). From the books I've read on Quelog, there seems to be much opportunity in a land of merchants, peddlers, and tourists. Its recent expansion into Tun has made the country even more prosperous, encouraging farmers to occupy the fertile land, starting new crops for the new season. I remember the advertisements for Tun. The pictures of land, the testimonies by various senators and professional agriculturalists. Sometimes at night, lying in my bed alone, pictures of me cultivating this new land would appear in my mind, sometimes my dreams. A peaceful life would finally happen if I decided to make the move to Quelog, to the expansion Tun.
However, there's some objection in my mind about relocating to Quelog as well. The recent elections for Comurati gave way to the new leader, Sistin Brochting, a revolutionary in free-thinking and one for new methods. Although he appears important, strong, and understanding when televised or written about, I have my doubts about him. In the near future, I imagine a new placement of strict laws on the merchants, who currently have a free-form standard for the dealing of their merchandise. I also see an end to tourism as the main source of income in Quelog. This Brochting fellow seems determined to make Quelog "more prosperous," which could lead to the downfall of a once great country.
Aside from escaping to Quelog, the thought of traveling abroad on the Capri Seas for a few years has entertained my imagination. An old friend of mine, Edward Duplont, worked for an oiling corporation on the Capri Seas, just off the coast of Rilveld, for ten years. His letters to me were bursting with adventure, suspense, intense storms, and observations on his job, his co-workers, and himself. I've thought about the life of a sailor, working aboard some random vessel, taking orders and acquiring a sense of personal satisfaction. My mother used to say to me when I was a child," Max, you're crazy. Sailing, traveling for a living... it just won't happen. You can't make a living that way. You'll be a failure. Why can't you become interested in what you're learning in school? Why can’t you be interested in business, mathematics, or science? Why must you dream about unrealistic aspirations?" My mother's speeches always upset me; they most-likely are the cause for my depressed childhood. Yet, the option of sailing might not work out so well either.
A few years ago, when I had a position at the local swim club, an accident happened which left me paranoid about water. I really don't care to go into detail about the situation, but it's painful to think about water now, always having that situation stuck in my mind.
Besides these two options, knowing they are the better of other options, there is the chance of being drafted, knowing that I'm still enrolled, a citizen, to the Loyalists. However, I'm not "loyal" anymore... I'm a wicked man now. If I ever told someone about my plans, or regarding my new political stance on Ameria, the Schutzgaab would open up an investigation on me, and leaving Ameria would no longer be an option.
Unknown to my ideas is my wife. I can't let her know. Never. She's already dragged in by the outbreak, and it's not safe to tell her my resentment. To tell the truth, there's no trust between us anymore. The last time I told her anything, that time being a remark towards her sister, I was bombarded with insults and inquiries by, and like it isn't obvious, her sister. So if my plan does go into effect, I'll leave without saying anything; no notes, clues, or minor hints will be left behind. She'll have to guess for herself... the bastard.
Anyway, I've been planning out these plans for quite some time, fine-tuning all instances and patterns, calculating full-proof layouts for my departure. For many months I've been working late at the office, in reality consuming myself with my mission. Will this work out? Can a happy ending be the outcome of this ordeal? Given the circumstances, the security patrolling various borders and towns, and the chance of execution upon my capture, I'm nervous. Staying put would be safe for the time-being, but not permanently. Running for liberation is dangerous from the beginning; but it'll become safer the further I get from the borders.
Why, however? Why am I so dead set on leaving Ameria? Why am I against this war? As far back as I can remember, there was no point towards me being a Loyalist. Never attending District Chapter meetings, tuning in to the televised addresses, nor voting in Loyalist elections, my account with the Loyalists has been inactive. Every week, the Government would send letters to my home, asking about my inactive stance. I would reply back with a counterfeit reason, send in my five dollar "apology" fee, and then I'd be fine until next week.
My situation isn't clear, and as far as I can tell, not many others are planning on leaving. They're probably frightened. Just like I'm frightened, many of the others can't come up with a way to escape American forces. With each passing day, televised broadcasts, propaganda against the parties, the chance for anything to happen is slim. My original intent was to bring a few people along with me... all of us helping each other, using combined knowledge to get past various obstacles. That plan has failed, however, knowing I've lost trust for many of my friends and family members. In war times, men lose clarity of mind and disappear into an abyss of self-destruction, manipulation by outsiders, and the fear of not believing in something.
Random access to the river is postponed. Remember that all government motion is set standard by designated "re-dos" by the computer elitist. I understand because I can stand, not willingly, but substantially...this is the remix pattern I've told you about. It's ridiculous, I'm ridiculous, and the only difference between you and me is that I can create gravity through gravy left-overs!
Caffeine_Wizard on
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Wrong area!
Whatever.