Rolling Stone

Politics
Posted June 7th, 2001 Warren Ellis

It seems Ive done a terrible job of grossly understating how our latest Republican Dictator in Chief was able to turn our nation into a one party system. For this issue of Threat Assessment, we look back on the last few weeks to observe what new and inventive ways Mr. Smith has limited our freedom, and other random events For US: (D.) Senator Robert M. Packard There is only a hand full of democrats left in Congress: Packard seems to be the only one still utilizing his backbone. An early advocate against the Steel Boarders Act, Packard took a bold new approach ushering in a voice of reason and opposition against the new Liberation of Information Bill, which leads us to Against US: Liberation of Information Bill At first glance, this new bill circulating the floor appears to be a redundancy to something already locked down in the Bill of Rights. Reading between the lines reveals the exact opposite. First brought to congress by (R) Henry Pool, if signed, the Bill will ultimately allow intelligence agents unrestricted access to gather civilian phone records, email, and other information you have lying around outside your brain. Surprise! Henry Pools rise to congress received considerable financial help by current Secretary of Defense Ron Kane, close personal friend of President Smith. For US: Britney Spears Quits Music After both an incredibly embarrassing and phenomenally beautiful upstaging at Los Angles Station Kiss-FMs annual concert, Wango Tango, Britney Spears left the stage in tears. Just moments after B.S. started her finale, recently separated (now reunited?) Smashing Pumpkins began playing over the star. In a recent radio interview, front man Billy Corgan told LA Based KROQ, This doesnt necessarily mean the band is back, but with the current political environment, Pop Music is going to be used to keep people complacent complacency is not a good place to be right now. We just wanted to make sure people out there are still awake. We couldnt agree more. Against US: Kissing OPEC Good Bye Not relying on Middle Eastern Nations for oil is good. Increasing off shore drilling in Alaska and off the California coast by forty percent: simply awful.

Chapter 9 June 9th, 2001 Are there anymore questions about our lesson today? William, whats your question? Up until this moment, Marshal hadnt known his father to be a church going man. Yet for the last few weeks, every Sunday, it seemed really important to go to Service. Unfortunately for Marshal, the service was split into age groups so he couldnt stay with his father. Furthermore, the age groups were split so that he either had to go to the twins group, or Williams. Not that it really mattered much; the instructors for both age groups seemed to treat everyone like they had just exited the womb. Because of this, Marshal decided to attend Sunday school with the stepsibling that bothered him least. So if I understand you correctly, William said in his Spock like cadence, God is everywhere, is that correct? Thats right, very good Will- So if God is everywhere, how come we cant seem Him? Well um, it says in Genesis 1:3, God said let there be light and You mean God is both a form of photonic and sonic energy like wavicles? The instructors face went from mild worry to panic, um, thats not what? Wavicles; particles that have both particle and wave properties, that we can view in some ways, and in other ways cannot. Thats kind of Im not sure you understand So really its not that we cant observe God, we just havent invented an effective way to do so. OH! Do you want to be an inventor William? I am an inventor, William said turning his attention back to his Game Boy.

Alright then, if we dont have anymore questions lets bow our heads to pray and oh, Marshal is it? Did you have a question? Marshal had many questions, none of which seemed this particular volunteer was particularly qualified to answer. Marshal, do you have a question about our Heavenly Father? Never mind, is all that came out, avoiding eye contact with the volunteer teacher waiting for Marshal to change his mind. The boy scanned the classroom full of apathetic teenagers. If there were a God, an all-powerful-everywhere-at-once God, one would think people would show, at best, mild concern. Maybe William had a point. Maybe we needed a more effective way to see Him, other than sitting in a size too small classroom, led by a fresh out of college volunteer. Okay well if thats all, lets go ahead and pray, she said checking her watch. --At the Garner House, Marshal jogged down the hall to his room. He paused in the entrance. The door had been left open. Quickly scanning the room, the boy crossed over to the clay model he had sculpted of his aircraft. He could forgive the fact someone entered his room without permission. He could forgive the fact someone left the model lying lazily on its side, off the stand. He could not however, forgive The Twins for ripping the wings off the model hed spent days trying to sculpt! Marching down the stairs, through the hall towards his fathers basement office, Marshal entered demanding; dad, we have to get rid of the twins. His father with phone pressed to one ear put his hand up, silencing Marshal. Of course, Mr. Summerland said into the phone, Ill have the final proposal available for you on Monday morning. Of course same to you take care now.

Turning to his son, young man, in this family we knock before we enter a room. Is that understood? Yes sir. Sorry sir. Its just Were not selling the twins. Dad, they broke into my room and wrecked my model. At least court-marshal them or Have you tried talking to them? Dad, they dont even speak the same language as us. Mr. Summerland does his best to keep a straight face while he dials out on the telephone, son, learning to resolve our own conflicts is a part of growing up. America didnt yell for outside help during the Revolutionary War. Actually, they did, Marshal corrects his father, who had already returned to another phone call. Mr. Summerland did have the courtesy to look back to Marshal and suggest, try talking to them first before jumping to conclusions. I didnt jump, I logically deduced the only possible things responsible for invading my privacy. His father responds with, Jim, hey, were going to need to have those reports ready for Monday morning not Thursday yeah tell me about it. Looking back to Marshal, his father gave him a quick salute before fully immersing himself in his phone call. The boy leaves thoroughly unfulfilled. Sulking out of the office, Marshal passed by Williams room. Over the sounds of a screaming grunge anthem Marshal almost hears; better with the wings off. Peeking in the slightly open door, Williams music punches him in the face.

Did you say something? Turning down the volume on his computer monitor, your jet; it will work better with the wings gone. Wait, you were the one that pulled them off? No. That was Jake; he thought it would actually fly if he launched it off the back patio. It did not. Marshal looks over Williams desk. A newspaper lies spread open on top of a dozen computer magazines. One particular picture stands out to Marshal, that guy doesnt look very happy. If I was The President right now, I wouldnt be very happy either. Thats our President? They recently over turned legislation that was meant to tighten our borders. What does that mean? Theres now a higher chance of invasion among other things. Keep the wings off the jet. Marshal takes this as his cue the conversation has ended, but, are you sure you cant help me Cant. Busy. Okay, Marshal says, a little less frustrated. Walking back up the stairs, with the last few rays of morning sun streaming into Marshals face he agrees; the jet looks better broken. ---

I hope every camper got his permission slip signed, or else they will be missing out on our first field trip in WATER WEEK! Bradley screams out. Several campers clapped, and then stopped. Even as the big yellow bus pulled up into the parking lot, it seems Bradleys ability to suck the fun out of summer was insurmountable. Marshal senses a silent Allison has appeared behind him. Without turning, he offers a casual, hey. Hey. Um, my mom says were supposed to sit together. Okay. Marshal turned to see Allison staring at the ground. Her face was red. Must be the sun. Booming over his megaphone, all right, when you hear your team leader called, line up by the bus with your safety buddy. Allison let out the same sigh that escaped every campers taxed senses, stretched thin by the Tiny Shorts Tyrant. Although, Marshal noticed, Allisons sigh was distinct in the way her slender shoulders raised and fell, with her golden chest length hair that obscured her face like a veil. Or maybe it was just the sun. Hey Mars! Quit starring at your girlfriend! Jake shouted. Marshal doesnt have a girlfriend, Denny refuted. Yeah it does, Mars s talking right at her. Marshal balled his fist, How about you quit talking out of your ass. Councilor Brad, Marshal just said ASS. Marshal, snapped Bradley standing directly behind the boy, Summerland you are two strikes away from sitting out this fieldtrip. Am I understood? But-

No more butts, rears, or Asses today, thats final. The twins snicker as Bradley marched back towards the bus. --Twenty minutes into the bus ride felt very much like being trapped in a tiny submarine, if that submarine was also filled to the brim with Canadian Geese. With dozens of screaming kids, barley cracked windows, and leather seats that burned your rear and thighs; anyone would be one broken nerve away from crazy. Marshal was surprised that his last string was Allison. Struggling to put her hair back into a pony tail, she leaned into Marshal, so, you wanted to build a jet? Oh, Marshal was further surprised she had remembered; I finished the model. What? Allison yelled over the other campers chanting some stupid song. I finished the model! Marshal repeated. Allison shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. Rolling his eyes, Marshal reached into his backpack and took out his sketch journal. Leaning over his shoulder, Allison traced her finger over the design. It looks like my moms bike sorta. Hey, Marshal is writing notes to the weird girl, Denny shouted. Marshal n Allison / sittin in a truck / Allisons the girl Marshal wants to F- Shut the hell up Jake! SUMMERLAND! Marshal turned around to Bradley towering over him with a satisfied smile, Strike two. Rolling up his notebook into a club, Marshal kept calmed while the twins laughed. He had to hold onto that one last string of sanity. ---

McNair Water Park was a water park in the sense that the coin rides outside a supermarket were a suitable substitute for Disney Land. There was a lazy river, an inner tube water slide, and obstacle course whose safety foam had faded and torn over the summers, never repaired by the minimum wage seasonal staff. The upside was that the park was small enough that Bradley and staff wasnt always breathing down the campers backs, and big enough to where the illusion of freedom seemed almost attainable, if it werent for the fence, the lack of money, and nowhere to go. Exiting the boys locker room, Marshal carefully made his way through the crowd of campers rushing out into the park. Walking along the edge of the lazy river, Marshal headed toward the waterslide with his notebook hidden under his beach towel. The one waterslide in the park was sealed off with hazard tape, but it didnt stop Allison and Marshal from sneaking over the tape and sitting under the slide. Once safely hidden, Marshal sat down and opened his notebook, Allison taking a seat on the patch of dry grass next to him. So, this is it. I thought you wanted to build a jet, you know, like for real? You have to build a model first though. Will it really fly? According to the math it should. So now that you have the model, how are you going to build the real thing? Thats why I wanted to talk to your dad about jets, if thats still okay? Allison turned away from Marshal, heart sinking into her gut, you cant. Why?

Allison doesnt give an answer; she just keeps her head down. Marshal closes his journal, placing it off to the side. He knows the face Allison was wearing now; its the same face that stared back at him everyday in the mirror. Her face was the same one Marshal had to mask since the twenty sixth of May. There he is, shouts Jake , hes hiding with his GIRLFRIEND. Jake, shes only his girlfriend if he asked her out. Thats how it works stupid. Marshal rises to his feet, with every muscle in his body tensing, and his knuckles clenched white hot. Listen Jake Denny pipes up, um, Im Denny, hes Jake. Both of you; get out of my face. Jake nudges Denny; Marss just angry cause he didnt get his cutie shot. Now hes going to be a Girl Scout. Thoroughly pissed, Marshal stammers out, Well it looks like your mom didnt get her menstrual extraction, so now youre going toum exist. Its not funny if I dont know what it means, stupid. Allison stands up holding onto Marshals journal; it means your mom should have got an abortion. Now go play with your other dumb little friends or else. Oh yeah? Well Im telling dad when we get home. Marshal freezes, a new level of anger creeping under his skin and moving through his blood stream; what did you say? What did you just say? Im telling DAD! Calmly striding over to Jake, Marshal steps over the caution rope, plants his feet, and lands a right cross square into Jakes nose. Hes MY dad.

Jake is trembling, but still running his mouth, hes our dad now! Marshal pulls back for another swing, but Denny grabs hold of his arm. Unfortunately for Denny, Marshals rage clouds his notion of responsibly learned from his Karate Merit Badge. Grabbing hold of Dennys other arm, Marshal tosses his opponent up, over, and into the ground. Jake is back to his feet, looking to take Marshal off guard. No use. Marshal strikes, landing a left and a right hook. Jake is knocked back, but Denny is up, kicking Marshal off balance. Leave him alone! Allison cries. The young girl runs over to Denny and smacks him across the face with the notebook. Denny is shaken, but still pushes Allison back to the ground. This of course raises Marshals rage to eleven, punching Denny hard enough in the gut to force him down to the ground. Marshal is ready to strike again, but Denny slumps over, gasping for breath. In a mad haze, Marshal scans for Jake, looking to finish what hed started. Having spun around, the boy is now face-to-waist with Bradleys tiny shorts. Strike three Summerland. Youre out. When yalls dad gets here- With those words, Marshals last nerve is cut, HES MY DAD! All his remaining strength is attached to one powerful punch into Bradleys gut. The hit hurts Marshal more so than Bradley. As the boy is led away by his wrist, Marshal locks eyes with Allison still down on the ground and holding his notebook. Marshal felt like a jerk; he forgot to help her up. --Back at the YMCA, sitting outside the small office, Marshal over hears his dad arguing with Bradley. It didnt real matter who won, Marshal would still end up loosing.

Although, Marshal did consider the fact that he really didnt have anything left to loose. Stepping out from around the corner, Mary took the seat next to Marshal. She pushed her platinum blond bangs out of her face only to have them fall back down again. Above everyone else, Marshal felt he had let Miss Mary down most, I guess youre going to make me go with the Lame Kid group now? Actually, theyre kicking you out of the program. First good news I got all day. Good news for you, maybe. What about your dad though? Well maybe now Ill actually get to see him more. Mary leans down and puts an arm over Marshals shoulder, listen dude, Ill tell you this because I think youre smart, and I speak from experience; most of the time, our parent isnt the person we imagine them to be. Marshal looks at Mary, genuine sadness dripping from her face. Well I know that my dad is you know MY dad. Mary pats Marshals shoulder; Hell always be your dad Marshal. Just I hate to see you get hurt when you find out hes also just a guy too. Marshal, front and center, Mr. Summerland says low and cold. The boy immediately gets to his feet and follows his father out the double doors of the gym for the last time. His father of that Marshal was still certain. --During the infinitely long ride back to the house, there was nothing but silence. ---

Pulling down into the driveway, Mr. Summerland threw the truck in park, and cut the engine. The tension was too thick to fit anything else into the cabin. I dont even know where to begin with you. Dad, the twins Marshal, dont start with me. I expected you to know better than this. You cant even begin to imagine how embarrassed I was to find out that my son Youre behavior is completely unacceptable, do understand that? They said that Marshal, enough. Dad His father hadnt even turned his head an inch to look at Marshal. Both his bear sized hands gripping tight on the steering wheel; Mr. Summerland continued to stare straight forward into the backyard. Youre to stay in your room until I can figure out what to do with you. Youre my dad; youre supposed to act like a father to me. Out of the truck, right now! It was the first time he had heard his dad yell. The sound continued to scratch at his bones, squeeze his lungs, and shake his soul. Marshal ran as fast as he could through the house and into his room, slamming the door behind him. He couldnt breath. With each gasping breath he took, less air came into his lungs. An hour later, a knock at the door stole Marshals last breath. From the other side he heard William exhale something cryptic; Sorry about what happened. However, I would suggest using a more effective method of observation, you know, of our dad.