Kill Your

Local
Slaver
A Guide to Slaver Communities

and Freedom

by

Mister Hoffa
 Foreward

Mister Hoffa here. This book is a little different than my others,

as I have a particular goal with this one more than just the
edification of knowledge I’mma gonna talk about slavery and
slaver communities here, so you can identify them, know how to
interact with them, then burn those fuckers down.
For you free folk, some of this is going to be disturbing, and it
should be. I’m going to quote some terrible things which happened
to slaves, in their own words, and if you think the world is shit
now, try being a slave in it.
If you are a slave, you already have lots of experience with
this stuff, you just need to let it sort out so you can apply it to
your life and your freedom. Slaves who can’t read won’t have a
problem with this book and learning the content if they put in
the wherewithal to study it. Keep this hidden; this is dangerous to
have. Burn it if you have to to protect yourself; I hope you get to
learn from it and can use the information to free yourself.
You deserve to be free, don’t forget that. And we’ll do our best to
get you there.

Mister Hoffa
 An Old Tale of Slavery
This is from one of the tales of a slave from the world
before ours, and it shows all the tricks they use to keep
a slave in line, making them forget they were still slaves.

Colonel Lloyd kept a large and finely cultivated garden, which

afforded almost constant employment for four men, besides the chief
gardener, (Mr. M'Durmond.) This garden was probably the greatest
attraction of the place. During the summer months, people came from
far and near—from Baltimore, Easton, and Annapolis—to see it. It
abounded in fruits of almost every description, from the hardy apple
of the north to the delicate orange of the south. This garden was not
the least source of trouble on the plantation. Its excellent fruit was
quite a temptation to the hungry swarms of boys, as well as the older
slaves, belonging to the colonel, few of whom had the virtue or the
vice to resist it. Scarcely a day passed, during the summer, but that
some slave had to take the lash for stealing fruit. The colonel had to
resort to all kinds of stratagems to keep his slaves out of the garden.
The last and most successful one was that of tarring his fence all
around; after which, if a slave was caught with any tar upon his
person, it was deemed sufficient proof that he had either been into the
garden, or had tried to get in. In either case, he was severely whipped
by the chief gardener. This plan worked well; the slaves became as
fearful of tar as of the lash. They seemed to realize the impossibility
of touchingtarwithout being defiled.
The colonel also kept a splendid riding equipage. His stable and
carriage-house presented the appearance of some of our large city
livery establishments. His horses were of the finest form and noblest
blood. His carriage-house contained three splendid coaches, three or
four gigs, besides dearborns and barouches of the most fashionable
style.
This establishment was under the care of two slaves—old Barney and
young Barney—father and son. To attend to this establishment was
their sole work. But it was by no means an easy employment; for in
nothing was Colonel Lloyd more particular than in the management
of his horses. The slightest inattention to these was unpardonable,
and was visited upon those, under whose care they were placed, with
the severest punishment; no excuse could shield them, if the colonel
only suspected any want of attention to his horses—a supposition
which he frequently indulged, and one which, of course, made the
office of old and young Barney a very trying one. They never knew
when they were safe from punishment. They were frequently whipped
when least deserving, and escaped whipping when most deserving
it. Every thing depended upon the looks of the horses, and the state
of Colonel Lloyd's own mind when his horses were brought to him
for use. If a horse did not move fast enough, or hold his head high
enough, it was owing to some fault of his keepers. It was painful to
stand near the stable-door, and hear the various complaints against
the keepers when a horse was taken out for use. "This horse has not
had proper attention. He has not been sufficiently rubbed and curried,
or he has not been properly fed; his food was too wet or too dry; he
got it too soon or too late; he was too hot or too cold; he had too much
hay, and not enough of grain; or he had too much grain, and not
enough of hay; instead of old Barney's attending to the horse, he had
very improperly left it to his son." To all these complaints, no matter
how unjust, the slave must answer never a word. Colonel Lloyd could
not brook any contradiction from a slave. When he spoke, a slave
must stand, listen, and tremble; and such was literally the case. I
have seen Colonel Lloyd make old Barney, a man between fifty and
sixty years of age, uncover his bald head, kneel down upon the cold,
damp ground, and receive upon his naked and toil-worn shoulders
more than thirty lashes at the time. Colonel Lloyd had three sons—
Edward, Murray, and Daniel,—and three sons-in-law, Mr. Winder,
Mr. Nicholson, and Mr. Lowndes. All of these lived at the Great
House Farm, and enjoyed the luxury of whipping the servants when
they pleased, from old Barney down to William Wilkes, the coach-
driver. I have seen Winder make one of the house-servants stand off
from him a suitable distance to be touched with the end of his whip,
and at every stroke raise great ridges upon his back.
To describe the wealth of Colonel Lloyd would be almost equal to
describing the riches of Job. He kept from ten to fifteen house-servants.
He was said to own a thousand slaves, and I think this estimate quite
within the truth. Colonel Lloyd owned so many that he did not know
them when he saw them; nor did all the slaves of the out-farms know
him. It is reported of him, that, while riding along the road one day,
he met a colored man, and addressed him in the usual manner of
speaking to colored people on the public highways of the south: "Well,
boy, whom do you belong to?" "To Colonel Lloyd," replied the slave.
"Well, does the colonel treat you well?" "No, sir," was the ready reply.
"What, does he work you too hard?" "Yes, sir." "Well, don't he give
you enough to eat?" "Yes, sir, he gives me enough, such as it is."
The colonel, after ascertaining where the slave belonged, rode on; the
man also went on about his business, not dreaming that he had been
conversing with his master. He thought, said, and heard nothing more
of the matter, until two or three weeks afterwards. The poor man was
then informed by his overseer that, for having found fault with his
master, he was now to be sold to a Georgia trader. He was immediately
chained and handcuffed; and thus, without a moment's warning,
he was snatched away, and forever sundered, from his family and
friends, by a hand more unrelenting than death. This is the penalty
of telling the truth, of telling the simple truth, in answer to a series
of plain questions.
It is partly in consequence of such facts, that slaves, when inquired
of as to their condition and the character of their masters, almost
universally say they are contented, and that their masters are kind.
The slaveholders have been known to send in spies among their slaves,
to ascertain their views and feelings in regard to their condition. The
frequency of this has had the effect to establish among the slaves the
maxim, that a still tongue makes a wise head. They suppress the truth
rather than take the consequences of telling it, and in so doing prove
themselves a part of the human family. If they have any thing to
say of their masters, it is generally in their masters' favor, especially
when speaking to an untried man. I have been frequently asked, when
a slave, if I had a kind master, and do not remember ever to have
given a negative answer; nor did I, in pursuing this course, consider
myself as uttering what was absolutely false; for I always measured
the kindness of my master by the standard of kindness set up among
slaveholders around us. Moreover, slaves are like other people, and
imbibe prejudices quite common to others. They think their own better
than that of others. Many, under the influence of this prejudice, think
their own masters are better than the masters of other slaves; and this,
too, in some cases, when the very reverse is true. Indeed, it is not
uncommon for slaves even to fall out and quarrel among themselves
about the relative goodness of their masters, each contending for the
superior goodness of his own over that of the others. At the very same
time, they mutually execrate their masters when viewed separately. It
was so on our plantation. When Colonel Lloyd's slaves met the slaves
of Jacob Jepson, they seldom parted without a quarrel about their
masters; Colonel Lloyd's slaves contending that he was the richest,
and Mr. Jepson's slaves that he was the smartest, and most of a man.
Colonel Lloyd's slaves would boast his ability to buy and sell Jacob
Jepson. Mr. Jepson's slaves would boast his ability to whip Colonel
Lloyd. These quarrels would almost always end in a fight between the
parties, and those that whipped were supposed to have gained the point
at issue. They seemed to think that the greatness of their masters was
transferable to themselves. It was considered as being bad enough to
be a slave; but to be a poor man's slave was deemed a disgrace indeed!
That familiar to you, friend? That remind you of the world you
live in, what you suffer every day? How everything is your fault?
How even the most minor piece of fruit is denied to you?
Keep reading, and you’ll see more of what I mean.
 What is a Slave?
I mean, a slave is someone who is the property of another.
But who says so?
Did the slave agree to be a slave?
Did the slave agree for their children to be slaves?
Or did someone run across the wrong people and get put in chains?
Or did some law say that a certain person is a slave, through
no fault of their own, and put them in chains at the behest of
‘society’?
I mean, if I take the chains off of someone, even an Iron, and I
give them time to heal from their mental and physical wounds
and treat them like a free person, do they still look like a slave?
Or do we suddenly no longer have a dividing line between “slave
and “free person”?
Yeah, I’m talking to you, future free person. Because that is
what you are. I believe that, and when you are done looking at
this book, you’ll believe it to. Don’t even be surprised you can
understand what’s here even though no one taught you letters; I
got a way with getting a message across.
Now, your captors (I’ll never call them Masters outside of this,
because when we are done they will not be the boss of you) aren’t
going to be happy about this. I don’t give a fuck, though, because we
get enough of these books in the hands of enough future free people.

Now, I ain’t talking about people who go “I’mma work for you
for three years and can’t leave in exchange for this money and
land”. That’s indentured servitude, and has an endgame and is a
contract. I’m talking about those urinal fucker slavers who think
they can just grab some little buckethead from their mama and
go ‘you’re property now’. Fuck that; kid didn’t make no choices
in this regard.
My question now is… what are you going to do now?
Field Slaves
I use this term for anyone who is worn out from their work, from
people picking food from the plant to someone digging up coal
in the mine. Part of the work is meant to exhaust you so you
don’t get riled up and have ideas, you know? But I’mma put a
plan together for you to conserve your strength and save some
resources so you can get away and get to freedom.
• After your workday, stretch yourself out. Bend
every joint to it’s full range of motion at least 10
times, for no more than 10 heartbeats. Bend down
at the waist and touch your toes if you can, back
and forth. Slowly stretch your legs out. If you can
get a stick about two feed long and one inch wide,
wrap it tightly with cloth and roll your sides and
back over it to loosen the muscles.
• Even when things are dark, talk with others about
goods things happening. You got a piece of apple
in your stew. The nice lady over yonder while you
are field-working flashed you a little something-
something. You caught a cool breeze just when
things were hottest. Any little thing, you gotta
hang onto if you can; it’s going to keep you going.
• Don’t let the guards know your moments of
happiness or sadness. They will use that shit to
manipulate you. Do your work, go to sleep, and
plan.
• Realize the rules are there to make you compliant.
Every little thing, from what time you get up and
going to bed to having to ask permission to take a
shit are meant to break you down and make you
not a person. You gotta repeat to yourself this:
“My name is [YOUR NAME], and one day I will
be free in body as I am in mind.” Know the rules
and why they are there, so you know how to not let
them get to you.
A Gilded Cage Still Has Bars
This is for the house future free person. I know what you are
thinking: “My captors love me, and take care of me, and give me
all the things I need.”
Do they?
I mean, they may be nice to you. They certainly treat you better
than someone in the mines, or the fields. You have nice clothing…
although not as nice as your captors. You get to sleep on a bed…
but not one as nice as your captors. You get food… again, not as
nice as your captor.
I want you to do an experiment, though.
Say “no” to something your captor tells you to do. I don’t care
how small it is, how inconsequential…
Say “no”.
I mean, if they love you, and take care of you, they must care
how you feel. They must care about your wishes, so clearly saying
“no” to your captor will get them to discuss why, where you can
compromise…
No, wait, they will beat you like a Remnant child. Or take away
your food. Or make you do things you don’t want to do by the
edge of a knife or the barrel of a gun. And when it’s done, they
are going to talk about how much they love you, and how they
didn’t want to do this but you “made them do it” and how it is
all your fault.
It Is Not Your Fault.
It Is Their Fault.
Again...

It Is Not Your Fault

It is Their Fault
Now, I’m a Telling Visionary, and we have lots of stories about
just such a thing. Two people meet up, one thinks the world of
the other, they start dating… then it turns out one of them is
boiling pet bunnies and giving the other a black eye for dinner not
being perfect. You see, there are people who want to control you
all over, but it takes a special kind of trash for someone to pretend
that all the abuse and harm they put on you is love.
Repeat after me.

It's impossible to love someone and

control them at the same time.

Now, if you don’t have control of yourself, and someone else

does… they don’t love you. They are making you feel like it, and
I get in your circumstance, you might think it’s love. But it’s not.
I’ve seen it before, and it’s terrible, and you did nothing wrong.
You want to know how someone loves you?
They don’t control you. They let you be your own person, so long
as you aren’t harming yourself.
And they get nothing from being kind to you.
That’s love.
Love is that peculiar condition where the happiness of another is
essential to your won.
That’s love.
And all the nice things, and all the nice food, and the feather beds,
mean nothing if you can’t walk out that door and do what you
want.
 Freedom is Scary
I get it. You are used to what you have. You get threats. Maybe
they are holding people you care about as hostage. I’m not saying
that, for you, you need to bust free right this moment.
But they rely on that fear. They rely on that uncertainty, that the
world of zed and raiders are going to get you soon as you make a
break for it.
But if you ever just sat out for a day in a sunny field with your
friends, drinking hootch you paid for with money you earned
by the sweat of your brow, eating a good meal, and not having
to worry if your captor was going beat you for some bunked up
reason or no reason at all… you’d want that every day. So do what
you can to resist. Maybe have a tool break, or put a nice drop of
spit in the captor’s meal, if you don’t got spider venom and the
means to get away. Old captors just fall down stairs, you know,
and you were nowhere near them when they took that header.
You find the way to resist how you can, and you don’t ever rat out
someone else who is doing it. There is a special place in Hell for
people who rat out slaves, the same place people who talk during
Oracle Box watching go. And it’s ain’t pretty or fun.
But I believe in you, and that you should be free. So don’t rat,
OK?
 In A Free Iron’s Words
I ain’t never been a slave. I can’t imagine what it’s like. But I got
someone here who has, and she’s gonna tell her story. She goes
by Glitter, and she makes baller pancakes, and your story might
be the same, or similar to hers. And the ending can be the same,
or better, if you stand up and take those chains and wrap them
around the right neck.
“Freedom. You know, I’ve been free over a decade now and I don’t
think more than a bare handful know how I got here. Its not as
exciting as some stories; there was no masterful plan or anything
like that. But that’s beside the point. There are two times that
come to mind when I think of freedom, but only one that really
stuck. See, I was just a kid, growing up in the Reich. My mum
and I, we were house slaves to a man named Schuler. You might
remember a fellow named Alphonze? Lived here in Havyen about
6 years back. His daddy was the fucker that owned me, back in
Motor City. Alphonze was a nice kid though, gave me my first
loan, helped me start my business. [Editor note: Alphonze rejected
slavery and tried to make right what his family did to wrong others]
“Anyways. I was luckier than some slaves, got to grow up alongside
my mama, wasn’t ripped from her before I could remember. But
that didn’t play out in my favor. Mr. Schuler, he liked to smack
around his slaves when he got it in his head we weren’t doing our
work. One night he slapped my momma around one too many
times and I lost it, beat him until one of the guards pulled me off
him. The damage was already done though. They uh…’boxed’
my line and threw me in a hole to learn me a lesson. I didn’t see
sunlight again for years. I never saw my mother again.
“After I got out, they sold me to one of the dragoon labs, I spent
my days moping up blood and tending to the failed experiments.
The doctor who bought me, he was cold and cruel, the things
he did to my people….the things they made me do. Its no great
secret I’ve got the worst control over my temper, anyone from
here to Bravo could tell you that. Me and some of the guards,
Emmett and Joseph, we always made plans to get away and go
east. Get as far away from the Iron Works as we could.
“But I fucked all that to hell when I killed the doctor. Didn’t even
think about it for a second, just saw an opening and took it. Beat
him with a frying pan until he didn’t have a head left. Emmett, he
found me and got me out of the city, but he went back for Joseph.
See, they were brothers. Family was always the soft spot for us;
we so rarely get to know them that we cling hard whenever we do.
It’s why I always am taking orphaned Irons under my wing,
“I remember what it was like going through this
world alone. Nobody should have to go it alone.
The alarm had been sounded by the time he got back and he
didn’t stand a chance. Joseph died in the mines a few years later,
Emmett became a Carthage unit, and with the help of some very
colorful folks: I made my way east. To Havyen, to a place that
had stood against the Reich and won.
“The rest is, as they say, history.”
Glitter’s been in Hayven years, and she makes her own money,
and people respect her for who she is and what she does. The
fact that she was a slave isn’t a point of shame; the fact that she
escaped from slavery and made a place for herself is a point of
pride. She wakes up in the morning, kisses her wifey, rolls out of
bed and decides what she is going to do with the day.
Not some captor. Not some person living in a fancy house while
she has to mop up piss and blood. She does. It’s her choice.
It’s ain’t an easy thing, getting away. As you can see, some end
up seemingly worse. But is it worse? Is it better being a slave? Of
always having the boot on your neck, telling you when you can
eat, sleep, piss, who you can marry and love?
That’s only a question you can answer. I know my answer.
 How Slavers Organize
Slavers are by nature a cowardly and impotent lot. Unable to
make an honest living, they can’t even pay a person a day’s wages
for a day’s work. No, they have to buy a person and then make
them do the work. They steal the sweat of a person’s brow, and
along with it their freedom and dignity. Slavers are thieves in the
night, sneaking into the minds of people and convincing them
that some people are unworthwhile by nature of their strain or
faith. They spin a whole tale, if not in words, by actions, on how
some people just aren’t worthy of the freedom they themselves
have and hold.
And I’ll admit, I used to believe that. I didn’t think some people
had inherent worth. But funny thing, you take the time to know
lots of people, and get to talking, and you get to judging peple not
by who they are but rather by what they do. And that’s the key;
a person commits a crime and is jailed, that’s one thing; a society
gets to tell lawbreakers when and how they should compensate
the community. But it’s based on, at least in a more just world,
what the lawbreaker did, rather than who they were.
But in the slaver world? People are judged by who they are, or
at least the illusion of who they are. And they want those lines.
They don’t want a future free person to be seen as a person, but
as property. A belonging, like a handbag or belt. “Us”, who are
people, and “Them” who are not. And they want future free
people to see each other different, so they don’t realize that they
shouldn’t be fighting each other but rising up and putting a boot
to the slavers.

Mobile Communities
Alright, these kinds of communities travel from place to place.
They have caravans which have cages, they go around, buying
and selling. Finding one of these communities isn’t easy, since
they move around a lot and tend to have a vetting process to
make sure some public-minded citizen doesn’t try to do what we
are planning to do right now. You gotta have some friends in low
places to get in the door here, or lots of money and lots of muscle
to make sure you don’t end up one of the products.
Escaping here is a matter of looking for an opening and taking
it. You may be able to figure out a pattern to routine behaviors,
but you are going to risk getting sold off in the meantime. Guards
are going to keep a close eye on you, and you might need to make
the call to wait until you are sold off. It’s, well, your call, based
on the circumstances. I’ll give you as much information to make
an informed choice.

Slaver Strongholds
These communities stay put. They are well-armed and well-
defended, and don’t expect to find any friends here. Even if there
are other industries not devoted to slavery, they are either OK
with slavery, or too afraid to do anything which would help out
a future free person. I mean, someone might be nice to you here,
but any help to get away won’t happen. There’s going to be two
different kinds of future free people here: ones who are part of
the market here, or ones who are property of someone who lives
or works here. The first is the same as a mobile community; you
see an opening, a good opening, take it.
The second, well, you need to plan. You gotta earn trust, and
make it seem like you ain’t got nothing left in the tank. Play your
part, learn as much as you can about the area around you; how
they bring slaves in, how they go out, where there are resources
and where there are problem areas. Keep yourself fit, and look for
your opening.
 Preparing For Your Freedom
This section will teach you how to get free and stay free.
You’re going to need some things to survive:
A Plan: You can’t just run out and have no idea where you are
going to go or what you are going to do.
Food and Water: It does not good to get out the door if you pass
out a day in your run. Try to get three days or each.
A Weapon: this can be as simple as a rock in a sock, a stick,
something you can put the bad end into whatever gets in your
way.
Hope: this is the hard one, trust me, but you have to not let
despair eat at you.

A Plan
You need to know how you are getting out. How you get out of
your cage or restraints. How you get out of your quarters and not
be noticed for a while. How to stay hidden while you are running,
and how not to attract attention. I’m not going to go into huge
details about this, because some slaver reading this will work to
plan against what I’ve written. But I can give you a few points:
memorize patrol patterns, count your steps from place to place
and how long it will take you to get there, know what slaves are
rats and take care of your feet because if you don’t you ain’t
running nowhere.

Food and Water

You gotta find a place you can hide food. Dry out already cooked
beans and grains and find a place to hide them in a sealed container
so animals can’t get them. Over the course of several weeks, you
can spare a fifth of your food (as long as it will stay) and end
up with a few days of something to keep you going when you
are fleeing. As for water, you need some containers and a bag to
put them in; make sure the containers are full so they don’t slosh
around. Once you are out the door, you are going to mix some of
that water with the dried out (already cooked) beans you brought
with you and eat that. It won’t taste great, but it will keep you
going. Supplement this by going into bird nests and taking eggs,
as well as eating worms and grasshoppers. You can crush them
up, boil them in water and drink it.
Along the way, you might be able to find an animal you can kill
and eat. Your best bet for cooking anything to avoid attention
is to make a fire on a windy day and boil cubes of meat from
the top half of the animal. The bottom half has intestines which
probably got shit all in them, and you don’t want that. If you can
get fish, that’s good. Pretty much can eat all of them, and the
eyeballs are good.
If you can learn how to scrounge up stuff before you escape, that
will make your life easier since you can come across some stuff
you might be able to eat. If not, I’m sure you can make due; the
key is that you are out and able to keep on moving.

A Weapon
You need something to hurt people. Get a stick about two feet
long, a little thicker than your thumb. Alternately, get a sock
or some cloth and put a rock in it. If you know how to punch,
that gives you another weapon. Something, anything, to do some
harm. More importantly, you are going to need the will to use
it. That ain’t easy for some, but you have a choice between your
freedom and going back under the thumb of someone else, i’m
sure you will know what to do and how to do it.
There’s another reason you want a weapon, and it’s not a pleasant
one; if you escape with other slaves, some of them might get
the idea they gotta go back to be safe. They are scared, or think
they can get a sweet reward if they just turn around and act like
nothing happened. But no captor is going to buy that, and all
of you will get punished three times as hard because one person
decided he couldn’t hack it. So you may need to put the end of
that weapon into the head of one of your fellow escapees.
Hope
Lots of free Irons I know has the same story; they were a slave
and then they weren’t. And I’ve seen lots of free Irons. I know
one who’s just a little ingot of an Iron, he’s never known any life
but freedom, and Signal-willing, he will stay that way. I know
lots of other people who have risked themselves to get away. Not
all of them were successful, and some of them suffered… but
think about this: just how good are you, even the nice house slave,
doing? How well off are you when someone dictates your every
move and owns you just like they own a pair of underwear?
I mean, some of you don’t even get underwear, yet you are treated
like a pair of it. And at one point, something’s going to dig in your
craw, and that hate is going to build up, and you are gonna realize
that you deserve better than to be someone’s property. And that’s
your chance, right there; you just need to grab a hold of it. It’s a
fight, a struggle, but you are going to have to take that first step.
I can’t do it for you, I can only make you realize that you deserve
better than being a slave.
 Odds and Ends
Now, when you look at the moon, and it’s less than a half moon,
imagine it’s a bow pulled and ready to shoot. See where that arrow
is pointing if it were to fire? That’s west.
Winter is actually easiest to travel in those areas where it gets
cold. It’s cold, but it means rivers are frozen over so you have a
chance to cross them better. People are less likely to be out on the
roads, and both raiders and zed activity will be way down.
If you are an Iron, try to find a hollow to hide yourself in and
cover up. You glow, but enough stuff between you and spotters
can make a huge difference.
You need to travel far from where you were. It’s scary, and
upsetting, but you are going to have to go at least 150 miles from
where you were held to minimize risk. You need to find a place
big enough to either get yourself lost in, or get back to a home in
case you were taken far away. Hayven is a good destination, as is
Bravo, since both don’t really take well to slavery.
If you gotta pass through a settlement and it’s a decent size, just
act like you are passing through. Most people don’t ask too many
questions. If someone challenges you, get assertive. Pass yourself
off as a messenger or a drunkard. Most people are willing to buy
the illusions we sell them.
Make friends once you get to where you want to settle. I’d
recommend finding some Sainthood and free Irons, at least until
you get your feet under you.
 Large Scale Revolts
Even though it would please my dramatic Telling Visionary heart
to see every slave in a slave community rise up at once and turn
the world upside down, I don’t think that is going to happen.
Large-scale revolts requires trust, and people are going to die;
that’s a given. You need weapons, lots of them, and you are going
to attract a lot of attention. But if you got the means to stand
up, take it. Slaves got their captors outnumbered, and rely on the
fear of punishment and the fact that a certain number of slaves
are going to back their captors rather than stand up like men and
women with a backbone. Like I said earlier, you got lots of slaves
but not so many captors. Get out, in ones and threes, and keep
spreading the word that you are indeed people. You can always
come back on the back of a rig with an army of public-minded
people at your back to kill every last one of these small-handed
slapnuts.
And don’t worry, we will let you know when we are on our way to
kick open the cell door and break the chains.
 What Can Free Folk Do?
So you aren’t a slave…
This is still your problem, though. Slavery actually damages
the economy; by creating a source of free labor, it benefits slave
owners while depressing wages to free workers and giving them
less job opportunities. If free people don’t have jobs, they can’t
spend money. And the more unequal people are financially, the
worse the economy gets. I mean, what good is it for you to have
a hundred cred if no one else has any money to spend on the shit
you sell? What good is it for hungry people to get ideas about
burning your shit down if they don’t have the opportunity to
earn honest and legit?
I mean, I got a kid. I love her more than anything. She gotta eat,
though. And I would motherfucking burn all your shit down if
the choice was between you and her. You’d do the same, if we got
driven to that circumstance. And slavery makes that shit happen,
hard. It concentrates wealth in the hands of a few and even if
people hustle hard slavery keeps on fucking up the economy.
Why the hell would someone hire you to fix something, or farm,
or mine, if they don’t have to pay someone and can just make
them work? Does that put food in your mouth? Put a roof over
your head?
Hell no. It makes some wealthy bastard who probably didn’t earn
their shit in the first place wealthier, gets a few people jobs as
overseers, and fucks the rest of us right over. You see, the more
people making money, the more people spending money, the faster
things move and the better off everyone is in the face of things.
Not just someone born with a silver foot in their mouth, but the
people who are always working their asses off and not getting
paid for what they do.
It’s not so much that money is spent, but it is who is spending it
on what goods. Poor people spend the money they have, it moves
around more; they don’t hoard that shit. That makes the economy
move faster. That makes shit happen.
So what can you do to help?
• Don’t deal with people who deal in slaves, or benefit
from slave labor. Let your people know that you
won’t, and that they shouldn’t, and judge the fuck
out of them if they do.
• If you find a runaway slave, help them out.
• If you find a slave-catcher, kill the fucker if you
can, and lie to the fucker if you aren’t the type who
can handle bloody business.
• Rescue high-value slaves such as printers, master
craftspeople, teachers, and use them to gather
information on the slave encampments and
settlements they were in.
• Find people who are like-minded in opposing
slavery and find ways to raise funds to help out
slaves with physical and care, re-education and
jobs.
• Put out bounties on low and mid-level slavers.
They will be easier to target and it will scare the
other ones into making mistakes, not trusting their
fellows or getting the hell out of Dodge.
• Get this book copied at least five times and send
it out into the world, from homesteads to slavers’
camps. Get it smuggled into the hands of slaves so
they can know there are people who care enough
that they should be free.
 Conclusion
I’mma leave you with a few quote from some people before the
fall of man. The first was from a former slave who went around
freeing other slaves. All told, she probably rescued a thousand
souls from bondageShe was baller and hard, and what she had to
say is important.

“Now I've been free, I know what a dreadful condition

slavery is. I have seen hundreds of escaped slaves, but I
never saw one who was willing to go back and be a slave.”
That some powerful shit there.
The next one is from a great liberator of the past in these very wastes
we walk. You see, in the past, people used to judge others based on
the color of their skin, and this guy worked to free those people who
had been caught up in the economic warfare of these aggressors.

“From the day of its birth, the anomaly of slavery plagued

a nation which asserted the equality of all men, and
sought to derive powers of government from the consent
of the governed. Within sound of the voices of those who
said this lived more than half a million slaves, forming
nearly one-fifth of the population of a new nation.”
Can you imagine a world with that many slaves whose only
desire was to be free? Can you imagine the fucked-up people who
thought it was OK to just put chains on someone, physical and
otherwise, and steal the sweat of their brown? This guy tried to
fulfill the promise of freedom to all, the thing all Mericans speak
of and that powerful forces tried to take from many.
This one was by a preacher man who grew up in a place where a
group of invaders took over his land and put the native people
into terrible conditions. He used words, from encouraging
disobedience to reaching out to economic powerhouses to oppose
the invaders, and when his people were liberated, he didn’t seek
vengeance but justice for the people who were wronged.
"When we oppress others, we end up oppressing ourselves.
All of our humanity is dependent upon recognising the
humanity in others."
And this last one? Right here is the cheddar.

“Whenever I hear anyone arguing for slavery, I feel a

strong impulse to see it tried on him personally.”
I mean, if slavery is so good, how would you feel with the chain
on your ankle and neck?
I can’t hear you...
What, you don’t want to be a slave? Why not?
Maybe because slavery sucks?
Now, some of us are assholes, and we do things which need a smack
in the mouth over. But we gotta recognize that we are better than
shithole slavers, and we can be better once we take out the trash.
And once that’s done, we can get rid of that invisible line slavers
pushed on us which says one group is ‘people’ and the other is
‘slaves’.
Probably have to kill a bunch of slavers to get to that point, but
hey, I’m fine with that. I hope you are too, because slavers need
a good killing.