Fahrenheit 451:
After the Bombs Land
By: Lucas Scarpati
A small round table, barely illuminated by the one light that
hangs
precariously above it. Five, ten, perhaps twenty people's silhouettes
are
visible, with only one person clearly seen. He is an old man, no less
than
eighty, and tired-looking. There is a tattoo of an eye in a triangle
drawn
on his hand. He stands and speaks, "Salve!" A resounding cry of
"Salve!"
returns to him. He speaks again, "My fellow Illuminati, this meeting was
called together by Senior member Jason. He wishes to speak about... um,
about..."
"Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, oh esteemed one," Comes a voice
in
the shadows.
The old man sags slightly, then stands straight. "Thank you
Amanda.
Jason, please speak your piece."
A middle aged man, no more than 40, stands. He is wearing a
business
suit, with the same future symbol on a clasp, connected to the lapel. He
has
a small beard, and light glasses. Holding up a brown book, he speaks,
"Esteemed brothers and sisters, I have come here to get the highly
controversial story of Fahrenheit 451, an ancient story of firemen who
burn
instead of save, and a corrupt, ignorant America, banned form the
shelves."
He slams the book down on the table, and looks at it scornfully,
"This...
This pack of LIES is decreasing our solders moral and causing desention
in
the ranks when we can brook no such things!"
The old man stands and looks with shock at Jason, "You are
proposing
that we turn away from our past?! From the history of only a few years
back?
! That we follow the edicts of our departed government that left us this
mess?! You are..." the old man stops in mid-phrase, bent over and
coughing.
"No, I am not," replies Jason sadly, "Our people are well aware
of
what has transpired. Remember, it was your generation with this memory
power
problem, not mine. And there is still no need for them to be bludgeoned
with
it. We cannot afford such dangers ideas. Nor can we simply edit the
book for
we have no time. We need a grand gesture, one to truly awaken their
spirit
of victory! What we need," as Jason spoke, he bent forward, hiding his
face
in the shadows, and keeping the light at bay, "is a sacrifice."
Jason steps back, and pulls out a small rectangular box. There
is an
audible beep as pushes a button. A flickering holographic projection
of
Earth appears on the map. Almost all of the planet, excluding North
America,
is red. North America is blue. "The red is the United Equality Alliance
and
the blue is, well, us. Or should I say, was us."
Jason pushes another button. Canada and Mexico begin to be eaten
up
by the red. Then the red begins to creep into the United States.
"Everyday,
we lose more and more ground to the U.E.A., but it wasn't until
Fahrenheit
451 was released that we started losing major ground. And now, this." He
gestures sadly to the now almost all red globe. The few areas that are
still blue are primarily the colony states.
"You're argument makes no sense, Jason," comes a confused voice,
"You blame a book for your own incompetence?"
"No, my argument does make sense, and here's why: People fight
with
their hearts. If they have no need, no desire to win, for any reason,
then
they've already lost." Jason picks up the book and flips it open. "Page
87
of Fahrenheit 451, 24th line from the top: 'People are having fun.
Committing
suicide! Murdering!' What type of image does this paint in your minds?
Does
it solicit images of joy and beauty? No! Now imagine what a solder, a
trained
killer would do after reading that. He would stop and ponder it, at the
worst possible time, in the MIDDLE of a WAR!!"
Jason opens the book again. "Many of you remember the mechanical
hounds.
Some of you even helped to make them. Nothing is more efficient against
infantry. The mere sight of those metal beasts can cause enemy solders
to
desert. Now, however, our solders don't trust them. In this book,"
Jason's
voice begins to rise, in both volume and urgency, "these angles of
vengeance
are portrayed as demons, used to hunt down and kill innocents. The same
for
our computers operated bombers, and machine gun turrets. Every bit of
our
technology, our only chance for winning, is being looked upon as
traitors.
Medics can't use reguva-pods, laser sights are being laid aside. The end
result is we are losing. Losing ground, losing solders, losing
technology,
losing morale, losing lives, losing this war!" Jason's voice rises to a
shout, and then falls silent.
The old man stands, "You expect us to believe that you are
losing a
war due to literature? I find it hard to believe that you are willing to
blame a book for your own inadequacy." He crosses his arms and glares at
Jason. "You hide behind morale and distrust, but you have yet to place
and
definitive evidence before us. A pretty speech is nice, but pointless.
Now,
do you have any real evidence?"
Jason smiles, "Yes, sir. Lt. Colonel Michael Ravenhunter, please
step forward."
A huge man in military uniform, that looks more like scales from
all
the medals clanks forward. A short black ponytail hangs down behind him.
In a
voice tinted only with respect, he replies "Yes, sir!"
Jason looks at him and says, "Lt. Please describe for us what
happened at the battle for Quebec, about... 1500 hours, and five days
into
the battle."
The big solder says "At that point, the mech-dogs were on the
field,
fighting damned well, when some of our boys started shooting at them.
The
dogs can take most anti-personnel rounds without a scratch to their
armor,
but those solders were using anti-tank rounds! Any way, just before I
get
someone over there to find out what the hell those idiots were doing, I
get a
message over the tac-net. It went like this: Disregard last message,
mech-hounds not programmed to attack all infantry, just U.E.A. solders."
"Do you know who released that message?"
"Yes sir. It was Private Ryoga Mishiko."
"Did you find out why he would do such a thing?"
"Yes sir. At first we were going to dismiss him on a Section
Eight,
but then we found a book, one that we soon realized explained his
actions."
"And the name of that book Colonel?"
"Fahrenheit 451, sir."
"Thank you solder. Please return to your post." Jason made a
dismissive gesture.
"Yes sir." The solder clanked into the shadows.
Jason smiled the smile of a victor. "I believe that qualifies as
evidence sir."
The old man stands up. "does anyone wish to speak on the book's
behalf?" There was a general mummer around the room, but no one stood
up.
"No one? Then I shall speak for it."
"By all means elder, please show us your... wisdom." Jason
smiles as
he sits down.
The old man coughs and begins his speech. "Fellow Illumunati,
many of
you remember a time when our government made owning books illegal.
Anyone
caught with them was placed in an asylum, or killed outright. Many
people
turned to murder or suicide. It was also at that time, when World War
III
began. America grew more and more senile with every passing day. We
conquered
and killed, spreading our freighting message of 'Love fun, kill and
play, no
one cares!' followed by voices that never shut up, but said NOTHING!
Do you know why America fell so far so fast? Because of one
word:
Cen-ser-ship. Every idea, every thought, every action, every word! was
reduced to nearly nothing. And slowly but surely, the beast's appetite
grew.
It devoured shows like Sesame Street, and replaced them with shows like
Barney! J.R.R. Tolken for Dr. Sues! The Seven Voyages of Sinbad for
Popeye!
It spread like a cancer, until any worthwhile book, game, movie, show
was
gone, leaving only the empty shell of a former greatness," he pauses for
breath.
"A friend of mine said before the reconstruction that mankind is
like
the Phoenix. Do you know about the Phoenix? It's this bird, and every
so
many years, it makes a pyre, lights it, and tosses itself into the
flames.
And every time, it dies, only to rise again in a couple of days. We do
the
same thing. We build up our stuff, making them grand. Then we start to
destroy our stuff, and ourselves. Later, when it's all gone, we get up,
and
start the whole damn thing all over again. The only difference is that
every
time we start the whole cycle, there are a few more who remember the
destruction. A few more who remember that destruction hurts."
He begins to shout, "Do none of you understand? Do you yearn for
a
time when the burning of homes and ideas was commonplace?" He whirls to
face
Jason, "Solders are NOT little toys to be marched out and wiped out.
They
are people! Rule number one of war is: War is stupid! DON'T DO IT!" He
turns
to face the group as a whole, "You cannot blame a book for our
mistakes, no
more than you can blame the wind for the war!"
Someone shouts, "What would you suggest?"
The old replies sadly, "I suggest, that we surrender."
From the roar of outrage at such a suggestion, two voices cut
through the noise. "A vote! Leave it to a vote!" Jason and the old man
cry. The roar begins to slow, and dies.
Jason shouts "Cast your vote! Victory without Fahrenheit 451 or
Surrender with it!"
The people begin to cast their votes. At regular intervals, the
tally
is counted. "25 for war!" "53 for peace!" "100 for war!"...
The old man sits alone in the dark. His face is buried in his
hands.
"I'm sorry Faber, so sorry. I tried to save the book, to save our
country.
But they would not listen. They shouted me down. Damnit. Why couldn't
they
understand? Can't they see? We cannot win this war. We are outnumbered,
outgunned. And those fools just climb higher and higher, looking for the
highest cliff, and dragging the rest of us to our doom. And when they
finally do reach the top of Olympus, Ares and Hades will gladly shove us
off, and then... we start again." Montag got up. He walked to the door,
looked around slowly, shook his head in surrender and left.
Well, what do you think?
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