Tagged: terrorist

Events Occur in Real Time

Dear Planet Earth,

I’m slowly but surely gathering more information about our latest guest on base here. Dr. Eimer let me know I was correct in assuming she’s one of the countless homeless mercenaries piling up outside the fences. He also told me that after hours of grueling “interrogation,” we know that her name is “Matha.” And that’s it.

I’m going to pretend to ignore the hours of Guantanamo Bay-like screaming I heard last night and say that this situation falls under the ticking clock scenario that can only be solved by God or Jack Bauer. I’m not going to contemplate the morality or politics of it. I’m not sure if there’s still even a government left to complain to if I wanted.

Outside, things are only getting more tense. More and more homeless people are coming everyday. They look hungry and ready for war, even if they all do look like they’re smiling.

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Whispers

Dear Planet Earth,

New York City is gone. Washington, D.C. is gone. Miami is gone.

The whispers I’m hearing from an assortment of soldiers (originally stationed all over the country) paint the stark picture that this is exactly what we’ve feared all along — an invasion. Our planet is at war and we’re losing. Badly.

Every major military installation on the East Coast was obliterated shortly after one of those so-called “drills” made an appearance. Some of the men I spoke to who were there said the attacks came from small, controlled tremors while others just remembered seeing explosions everywhere. Some chose not to remember.

Whatever happened (or whatever’s about to happen) I’m just happy to be alive, out of custody, and no longer on the terrorist watch list. I’m free to leave whenever now that I gave my full debrief to General Talpa and convinced him that I’m not a member of the body snatchers.

The truth is, I have nowhere left to go, no one waiting for me. And if this drill is going to be the source of the end of the world, I’m saving myself a front row seat.

Diana

Dear Planet Earth,

I think I’m in love. Some say opposites attract, some say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I say full scale invasions of our planet lead to strong, monogamous relationships.

Diana works at the front desk here at the Bellagio. Or at least she’s pretending to. She was a sophomore at UNLV (University of Nevada, Las Vegas) until the tremors hit and they decided to cancel classes indefinitely. With nothing to do, my ambitious amour decided to fulfill her lifelong dream of working at one of the ritziest hotels in Las Vegas. She hired herself since most of the staff had already abandoned their lives here to flee west. This is pretty much how I and, according to Diana, countless other young vagabonds scored free hotel rooms (though strangely enough, not a single homeless person has tried).

But I’m getting off point here. The point is I’m in love. Diana Sunday is smart, funny, and has tits the size of my id. She’s everything I’ve imagined college girls to be. Even her name sounds cultured, right out of a James Bond film.

We’ve spent the past two days together and tomorrow we’re planning to trek outside the city to investigate that strange object I took a picture of the other day. She’s betting me $500 in spa credit that it’s an alien spaceship, but I’m starting to lean towards something more terroristy. This isn’t exactly how I pictured my first date with a girl would be.

I Left My Heart in Aisle Four

Dear Planet Earth,

I took part in my very first looting today. It seemed as good a time as any, what with the whole world under attack from hackers, terrorists, communists, or aliens.

I’ve never stolen anything in my life, and so I figured I might have some reservations about taking part in a massive collective heist. Not so. It turns out, breaking the eighth commandment is incredibly easy to learn, especially when you’re surrounded by hundreds of other rational-minded people focused solely on gathering supplies for their and their loved ones’ basic survival.

The stock at Alberston’s on Flamingo Road was still surprisingly full when I got there. I was able to make out with a hefty supply of oatmeal, Pop-Tarts, and even a copy of my favorite book. I was surprised at how civil and normal the whole scene seemed to me. My fellow looters and I gave each other understanding glances, even made small talk. I was reminded of how screwed up our situation really is when I left the store with my brimming shopping cart and saw this guy shouting some things that would have sounded crazy one month ago:

This in itself isn’t that unusual. Vegas has a significantly high homeless population. What really started The Twilight Zone theme music in my head was when I passed three other homeless people holding signs with the exact same message, “The end is here! All upworlders will die!” They stared at me and smiled sly smiles through gaps of missing teeth.

Needless to say, I didn’t offer them any money.