FCC

By: Immodicus Furor

            Jonathan Hanover blinked back tears as he stared into the painful shimmer of the crowd around him. It was as if someone was driving hot needles deep into his pupils, rendering them unable to perform as they should. He wished that the women would put their clothes back on; the FCC standard implant was killing him. He was in the middle of a massive protest against the Federal Communications Commission, the branch of the government that regulated exactly what people could view and could not view and hear.

            He slowly stepped up to the microphone in front of him, squinting his eyes to keep from being blinded by the “censor smears” as they had been dubbed.

            “Ladies and gentlemen… a new day is upon us!” He began the speech with his normal flourish, rousing the crowd to cheer nearly immediately. “Do we want this new day’s sunrise to shine upon a land where everyone sees the world through rose colored glasses? NO! We shall no longer let an executive agency rule over us, demanding that we deny ourselves every freedom there is to deny. When I enter bed with my wife at night, I become partially blind due to the infamous implants that this totalitarian administration has imposed upon us. I can feel only a small amount of pleasure, as even that is regulated. I sit watching carefully constructed moralistic cartoons all morning before I head off to work where everyone is careful with what they say and do. I refuse to live like this! Let me have my freedom back! I DEMAND IT!”

            The crowd broke out in screams of agreement, raising their fists as one massive entity. John could feel the energy radiate from them. He knew what they were going to do before they did. They began moving as one, directly towards the massive FCC Headquarters Complex directly behind him.

            Occasionally, a particular phrase or two could be heard over the roar of the crowd…“down with tyranny,” “end the repression,” “give me my freedom!” and so forth. Some of them produced illegal rifles from somewhere, and brandished them as if they could take down the entire complex with them. Others carried bits of sticks or sharp objects that they had found lying around. John himself had arrived a little more prepared, producing a grenade and a pistol from the inner pockets of his long black coat.

            With one shot, he blew out the window closest to him. With a powerful throw, the grenade was inside of the room.

            Less than five seconds later, it went off. Four panes of glass below outward, the orifices of the front offices belching fire towards the crowd. This only seemed to serve to incense the mob even further, as they somehow managed to shatter the supposedly shatterproof glass of the entrance, pouring into the building like a colony of insane ants. Shots were fired off everywhere, catching some of the few office workers that had not evacuated already off guard. Desks and cubicles were overturned and destroyed in the massive wave of people, computers smashed, and walls even smashed. Apparently, a couple people in the crowd had managed to bring sledgehammers. Unfortunately, most of John’s view of the destruction was obstructed by the censor smears that were now filling his entire field of vision.

            The smears didn’t persist for long. Someone managed to destroy the main servers and transceivers, disabling the City Censorship Network. Suddenly everyone’s vision cleared, allowing them to see exactly what was happening. Most of them had never seen the “real world” before. Hundreds of people began crying… crying at the beauty that was freedom.

            The entire crowd began cheering at once, thinking that they had achieved a victory, that they had accomplished something today. But of course, the government couldn’t let that happen. It just wouldn’t be proper for people to have a taste of true freedom and live.

            For just a moment, John almost wished his implant was still active. He didn’t want to see what was coming towards them. Hundreds upon hundreds of attack helicopters had filled the blocks of the city surrounding the FCC building. There was no warning. No demands for them to surrender. No arrests attempted.

            Death rained upon them in droves, missiles pouring down like thick snow. John breathed one deep breath, opening his eyes wide to savor his final moment of life.

            It was in that moment, when the warheads exploded, that he realized he had actually won. He was fully able to appreciate the sight of two thousand people being vaporized in a hail of fire, right before a missile hit him directly. He loved every microsecond of it, and embraced his death with open arms.

**********

            Timothy Hanover, seven years old, stared out of the apartment window.

            “Mommy, mommy, come look! It’s so weird! I’ve never seen anything like it before!”

            Amanda walked over to the window patiently, expecting to see something like a clown on the street below. Instead, she had to brace herself as she saw the most horrific thing she had ever witnessed. Fireballs were soaring up through the debris of the massive FCC complex. Thousands of corpses were scattered across the ground. She struggled to keep from throwing up.

            “Do you think daddy’s able to see this?”

            Amanda blanched even further, realizing exactly where her husband would have been if there had been a riot against the FCC. Her face paled visibly, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. For some reason that she would never truly understand, she smiled. Through tears, grief, and sickness, she smiled.

            “Don’t worry, honey. I guarantee you that he saw it… and he probably thought it was the greatest thing he had ever seen.”