DILIGENT Historians have suffered in the past… and they’re suffering now. Those apprised of the background data that makes up the whole of the Illuminati mythos are not surprised to hear that those who know too much sometimes find themselves being given a helping hand in the difficult crossover to the world beyond. But of late, a new rash of disappearances, hushed up of course, has brought underground attention to the studies conducted under the aegis of the Assassination Society of America.
The Society, organized back in the dark years before NSA bugs and moles could pierce any veil of mystery, originally romanticized the lonely hero with a knife. Members kept to themselves and collected impressive weapons stores, and as they aged, took respectable positions in many key socio-economic niches throughout the more advanced sectors of the American landscape.
Of late, however, and only with difficulty, it has been established that the sudden, unexplained departure of many prominent citizens throughout the land is the work of some sinister conspiracy. It seems that subtle clues were left that indicated that members of the Assassination Society, inactive though it may be, are the target of a quiet mop-up campaign. Why?
It is well known that certain scholarly research institutes, among them the Center for Libertarian Studies and the CATO Institute; plus their less-academically respectable associates in the Ultra-faction of the MLL, are entirely funded and controlled by ASA members. Recently, startling evidence of a centuries-old conspiracy has been unveiled and popularly promulgated by the aforementioned Libertarian fronts. The conspiracy originally declared that it was devoted to world domination through the use of dynamite, and though as time went on it moved on to bigger and better tools that depended on Uranium or its cousins, it has never once retreated or suffered a setback. The conspiracy counts among its devotees every member of every political party that has ever existed, and then some. It need hardly be added that the conspiracy long ago realized its goal, to cover the planet with governments, but unfortunate members of the ASA foolihly thought it safe to reveal their knowledge.
(Interruption)
The atmosphere boiled, astronauts were busy, X-boy fired his camera for future reference. At the astronauts; at the astronauts’ headquarters they fired back, at random by our standards, striking us without plan but perhaps according to some one of their own.
Their vantage point is spectacular, which helps us; the glow -- the heat let off by the wires -- will obscure the view and accentuate larger, incorrect patterns, letting those who wish vanish into the void of interstices… But we fire away, too, knowing the our transmissions will be intercepted…
“You’re lying,” she told me, “stop a shaky frame bed.” X-Boy was there too, for the guided fantasy therapeutiucs, our great hope: he of the wild databse, the Assimilator, dreamer. Later we would wake from our session and be debriefed by our man, the photographer eideticist…
“Approaching you comes a young woman -- she’s got a chess baord, heavy one, the pieces are set up for play… she props you up in your hospital bed, turns the crank raising you on your dais and sets up the board now so you can reach it.”
I heard the change in breathing that meant one of our numbers had already gone down, been bitten. Struggled to maintain the visuals without forgetting myself; we had to rememebr. For later. What a bitch; they wouldn’t torture us any more knowing how close we were, no, worse, let us lie there or bring us food, tend us carefully making small talk; we so weakened as not to be able to hate.
I played black, Alekhine’s Defense to throw them off… when they drained it out of me later they wouldn’t be so sure I didn’t do it to dump the game without being too obvious… X-Boy could win it, he’s the last one left, it can’t go on much longer.
The Opponent came on but with broken pawn center, foolish P-Q3 instead of P-K5… but we rallied more than our men, we rose up off our beds and forgot this game here. The young ladies stared at the boards flying up through the air and the naked wounded sheets aside climbing out. Too slow but the tactic bought us time.
archive: minifictions
