Tagged: resistance

Good News/Bad News

Dear Planet Earth,

There’s conflicting news coming out of the Twitterverse today. For one thing, I’m apparently not the first person to coin the term “Twitterverse.”

But onto the real stuff. Humans in Austin, Texas raided a slave labor camp and even took out a couple drill snakes in the process. They freed over a hundred people, bringing up their resistance to about 350 strong. I contacted one of the raiders who told me that they plan to carry out even more assaults against the mole people in the coming weeks. They’re putting up defenses around their city just as we are here in New Seattle. Good luck to all of you in Austin.

The people of Blackfoot, Idaho were much less lucky. There was a resistance group there made up entirely of civilians who had been holding their own since October. They were attacked in the middle of the night on all sides. The mole men didn’t bother taking prisoners. They shot and killed dozens of men, women, and children. There were only two survivors of the tragic massacre. They’ll hopefully be safe within the borders of New Seattle in a few days. We’re excited to meet you, Maggie and Emily.

Hash

Dear Planet Earth,

The troops are getting restless. General Talpa told me so this morning.

“The troops are getting restless.”

The new propaganda posters around the city are starting to make everyone a little tense. People are accusing one another of stealing their stuff, of being sleeper agents for the mole men. To top it all off, the general is getting hounded everyday to cede the decision making process over to an elected body.

He leaned closer to me over the picnic table and laughed, telling me he almost missed the good ol’ days — meaning two weeks ago — when our enemies were really enemies, when the only thing we had to worry about was surviving to the next day.

I understand the feeling. Despite the constant bombardments of helplessness and sorrow, there was a sense of excitement battling the mole people on a daily basis, a feeling of unrivaled accomplishment in taking down a foe that, by all accounts, should have had no trouble squashing me like a bug.

“I’d take that battlefield, Scott. I’d take that battlefield any day over this, this. . . ,” he crinkled his forehead to think of the word, “politics.”

The sun had fully risen at this point, illuminating the mess hall and marking a fulfilling conclusion to our conversation. I offered him some of my hash browns as we watched the peaceful chaos engulf New Seattle on all sides.

Humanity or Tyranny

Dear Planet Earth,

We’re expanding our borders. We’re fortifying and refortifying, putting up defenses in the remains of overturned school buses, dusty coffee houses, and scorched dog parks. We’re spray painting messages on cars at the edge of the city that read “BRING IT ON” and “HUMANITY OR TYRANNY.” We’re calling this ever-growing enclave of liberty New Seattle.

There’s talk of making a flag or a new form of currency. Some people want to have an election to counter the military’s possibly overbearing influence.

Again, I feel like I’m a part of something bigger than myself. I’m more than just a 21st century teenager with more luck than skill. I’m more than just a dystopic survivor who can count his victories on one hand. I — like the hundreds of other dedicated individuals working beside me — am a human, one of the most durable and resilient creatures to ever walk this planet.

Mole people, bring it on.

Hunky-Dory Steampunk Story

Dear Planet Earth,

We’ve been hopping from place to place around the city all week. We kept expecting the mole people to return for a counterattack, drill snakes and steampunk guns in tow. It’s now undeniably apparent they’re not coming, either out of fear or condescending disinterest.

They have a right to be scared. We’ve fortified every inch of downtown Seattle and trained dozens of new rebels how to use some serious weapons. Oh, we’ve started calling ourselves “rebels,” too.

I helped raid a firehouse yesterday to get those flames around the Space Needle under control. We did a pretty good job considering our only training came from playing fireman in preschool. The CDC guys contained the remains of the drill snake I epically pwned, which makes for a pretty eerie picture.

Despite how hunk-dory things seem now, a lot of us are actually itching for the mole men to bring it on. Dr. Eimer compared our zeal for battle to the “geopolitical climate prior to World War I.” I think most of us rebels are imagining Star Wars IV.

Starring Arnold Schwarzenegger

Dear Planet Earth,

Ever since the last battle, I’ve been getting a lot more grins, high fives, and patronizing pats on the back. You’d never know that just three months ago everyone treated me like a leper who vandalized cars and falsely accused people of stealing his stuff.

They’ve started calling me “The Exterminator,” and I’m not sure whether to take that as just a nice nickname or an ironic insult. But I said before that I don’t care what others think of me, be it man or mole man, and I’m sticking to that.

I’m beyond such petty concepts as praise or vitriol. I’m a soldier now who only has room to group the world into either enemies or allies. I’m The Exterminator.

Battle in Seattle

Dear Planet Earth,

That was a long enough nap. Greetings from Seattle! Wish you were here. Unless you’re a mole man, in which case, you know, screw you.

We raided two other slave labor camps on the way up here. It was exhilarating to be one of the actual liberators this time around, though I’ll leave out the long paragraphs about strategy that you would only skim over and the mole people would likely exploit.

I will say that our latest score of high-tech rocket launchers may have something to do with our success. We found them among the remains of Fort Kross and they’re officially called “SMAWs,” or “Shoulder Mounted Ass Wipers.” Don’t quote me on that.

When we prepared to drive the mole men out of this city, General Talpa finally trusted me enough to aid the missile squad. I loaded up the rounds for Lieutenant Stoya and watched their gargantuan drill snake shudder from the impacts. Those ominous-looking saw blades were completely destroyed, and it looked like victory was near.

Then the metal monster started firing a small Gatling gun that popped out from underneath. Stoya took a hit in the shoulder (he’s fine now), and the SMAW went down with him. Maybe he screamed or told me to retreat or to try and ice the sucker myself — I don’t know, I had lost all hearing hours ago. I do know that something else took hold of me then. Some kind of calm, innate spirit within me pushed everything else to the side and just focused on picking up that rocket launcher and icing the sucker myself.

It looked just like this . . .

. . . but 1,000 times more badass.

The Mole Men Chronicles

Dear Planet Earth,

I’m probably not dead if you don’t see any updates on here for awhile. Our ragtag resistance is finally moving on out, somewhere north if the rumors have any truth to them.

Some people are talking about not going, still clearly upset about the military’s execution of those two homie spies. I’m embracing my neutrality, not convinced either way whether traitors should be killed or locked up. No one’s really qualified to answer that. My new friend Ray or Roy or Brad or Barry said it best today:

“It would be easier if they weren’t just mole men, but something completely alien. Like Martians or something. Those people are just people though. And when you have to fight against an enemy that looks just like you, you might as well be fighting against firemen or librarians.”

It sounded a lot more logical and optimistic when he said it.