Thirteen Ways of Looking at Vernal Pools

One of my recent school assignments was to write a poem modeled, in part, after Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, by Wallace Stevens. Enjoy!

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Vernal Pools
by Jourdan Cameron

I
Your time has come little pool,
Spring rains bring hydration,
Very soon you shall come to life, pool,
You'll be home to larvae and frogspawn in their undulation.
II
"Somebody ought drain that squalid puddle, it breed disease!"
"You need to understand, it's vital to our ecosystem, listen please!"
"This world's creatures are none of my concern, nature's making me wheeze."
"There are things you don't know, do not tamper with them, hear me out, please."
"Tell me what the point is of keeping this infernal mud-hole!"
"It's a vernal pool that supports amphibians and dragon-flies, it plays a vital role!"
"Well, what a pity, those things make no difference to me."
"You can't see- how very blind can you possibly be?"
"Why don't you go hug some poor diseased tree?"
"Dragonflies control the mosquito population, surely that means something?"
"So does bug spray, do me a favor and get out of my way, you're annoying."
"If you destroy the pool, you'll miss so much! You'll never hear the frogs sing."
"You imbecile, frogs don't sing, are you living in some mad fantasy?"
"Shut up."
"Wha-"
"Listen."
"You're not talking."
"No. The forest is. If you open your heart, you might hear it."
III
In the heart of the forest in the place untouched by man,
Lies a body of water between a puddle and a pond- a vernal pool.
Year and again it fills with precipitation dyed by leaves a shade of tan,
It's home to many larva growing quick in the water cool.
IV
The pool has purpose plenty,
It serves some shelter and others snacks,
Low levels of liquid water it has, depth it lacks,
It is meant to be gone before great heat attacks.
V
Summer day,
All too close and far away,
The gentle buzz floats along the wind,
And quickly as it had appeared,
The sun itself leaves taking with it the day,
As the night falls so begins the old song revered,
An orchestral cacophony of chirps from every which way.
Those once-young creatures of the pool have all grown,
Spring peepers are calling, tiny tree frogs seeking one another,
Ready for the next generation's seeds to be sown.
Their love song's a lullaby, sleep bringing, from one eye to the other,
The night draws on and the sunrise makes the arrival of a new day known.
VI
A big wide hole,
A quiet dried bowl,
It played quite the role,
It gave a season it's soul.
A quiet dried bowl,
Leaf-littered hole,
Beyond grassy knoll,
It will does summer soul,
For now, a big dead hole.
VII
Two men stand near pool's shore,
Both understanding what it's for.
With great care one disturbs the surface stillness,
His net's filled with life for a camera to witness.
Soon as they came, they leave and all is quiet once more,
Those photographs are going far, with them they take the shore.
VIII
Winter comes in howling silence,
The world lies sleeping in great penance,
For now the home is frozen mud.
Bitter battering blustering squalls
Cry cacophonously, cutting calls,
For now the home is frozen mud.
Such sirenous screaming stills,
Chiming, chirping, chafing chills,
The home remains as frozen mud.
Oligarchic orchestra of otherworldly 'orrors,
Clouds cruel coldly cover, cumulonimbus encroaches!
The home is silent still.
IX
No season lasts forever, winter being no exception,
The cruel clouds that once encroached now fall to earth,
In harmony with the sun, they warm the mud, granting liberation.
Soon the pool is filled again, sitting in the earth,
With great haste come the men; they marvel at it's berth.
One snaps a shot of a water strider as across the amber edge it does surf,
They both recognize this place to be of immeasurable worth.
X
Summer days swift return and time seems to stand still,
Tiny tadpoles grew fat legs and lost their tails and gills.
With great gusto they now snap the insects from the sky,
These ectothermic acrobats from tree to tree now fly.
Far above the dried out hole they sing songs in the night,
When the dawn comes they bath amid the dew and once more take to flight.
XI
Did you hear that?
I saw nothing.
There was a flash vibrant green,
Then, nothing.
The thing I thought I had seen,
'Twasn't nothing.
It was a dragonfly, fast and mean,
Chasing something.
Those flying jaws the end of many a mosquito,
Catching something.
They, too, come from the vernal pool, snapping up smaller insects that move so slow.
They're definitely something.
XII
On and on the pool fills and goes dry,
In the forest it's unchanged as the days go by.
The cyclic chain of life and death shall eternal roll,
So many creatures grow up in that hole!
Some of the arrogant may not ignore it's value,
Yet many of shut mouths and open minds will see more than most do.
What good is a pond that's almost a mud-hole?
It grants the forest life and the summer song soul!
XIII
Maybe one day a child will visit,
His ears will catch a spring peeper's "rivet".
Maybe that child will never come back,
But for a certainty he'll keep a straight track.
He will not forget the vernal pool,
It's a memory that he'll often visit.
His mind will always take him back,
Echoing that little frog's "rivet".
Maybe one day a child will visit.

So, I wrote a book.

As of late, my posts have been few and far between- I've been a very busy writer, and I'm proud to announce that I've written a book. The title of the book is Me² (sometimes written as Me Squared to prevent formatting issues with the superscripted 2). It's a book that's been sitting in my head for a very long time. It all started one night about six years ago; I was lying awake in bed, staring up at my ceiling, when I came up with the idea for a book about a kid who discovers that he has a clone. The title of the book was originally going to be Blood Brothers. What's funny is that today, I'm not sure what came first- the title, or the idea. Did I think of the name Blood Brothers and think about some way to give it meaning- maybe I thought about the book idea and thought Blood Brothers would be a fitting title.

As for the book itself, it's a little unconventional. I wanted to write an exciting book that wasn't completely composed of dumb action- not I've got anything against action, as there's plenty of it in Me²- but I wanted to  make something for young audiences with depth, something that they would find engaging, thought-provoking and accessible. It's far too easy to get caught up trying to make something with a specific quality that those other vital elements of a book become lost in a sea of dry words. So while I would say that this is a thought-provoking book full of depth, it's also a fun book full of life. I think a mistake that's made too often is that when a writer wants to get a message across, or even just wants to write a story, he or she will harp on one thing, and one thing only. While I loved the central message in the movie Won't Back Down, I really hated the movie. It was well cast and all, but it only conveyed a single thing- it felt like I was being force-fed the idea that the whole educational system is broken and we need a revolution to fix it and the entire world is a villain except for anybody who's not fighting with us. While it's pretty true that there are some big issues with various school systems today, I didn't get anything else out of the movie. I couldn't be brought to care about the characters, their plight, and I certainly didn't wind up feeling whatever it was that the film's director wanted me to feel.

I think it's safe to say that I dodged that bullet with Me². While I did write with the purpose of making kids think about the ethics of such things as cloning and genetic engineering, I also worked hard to create a worthwhile story, interesting characters, and all those other things that I believe make a book worth writing and, subsequently, worth reading.

I'm very proud of my sister, Kassidy Cameron- she created the book's front cover. I told her what I wanted to see and she brought it beautifully to life. If you'd like to see more of her work and also help out our aunt, please be sure to take a look at her site!

Right now, I'm in the process of editing the book. It'll be ready... Soon. Keep an eye on this blog for news!

My Mind Ran Off

My Mind Ran Off 
by Jourdan Cameron 

I watched my mind cut itself loose today, 
I watched my mind just cut on loose, 
It just dashed on off bright as a spring day. 

I tried to catch it, I swear I did, 
I tried to catch it, I swear couldn't, 
That sucker done ran off and hid! 

I took a swig and looked hither and thither, 
I looked thither and hither and took a shot, 
Then my eyes gave out along with my liver. 
Goodness me, can a new brain be bought? 

I gotta find my mind before it starts to rot! 
I just need to catch my brain before it starts to rot, 
The thing just liberated itself, who woulda thought? 

The thing's gone on vacation, that's unacceptable, 
The thing's gone on vacation, that's totally trouble, 
Wherever am I to find a new one? 
I can't say for sure. 
Anybody know how to tie a brain lure? 

My mind ran off and I just can't find it, 
My mind dashed off- I can't bind it! 
My mind's escaped and now I'm can't see; 
I'm bumbling in the dark, I just wanna be free! 

I hope it's happy, wherever it's gone, 
I just hope it's satisfied, wherever it runs, 
I'm not. 
I know for sure that I'm not. 
There's no happiness knowing it can't be caught. 

My conscious is a fugitive running from the law, 
My mind is a fugitive on the run from the lawman, 
I just can't believe he left without so much as "tah". 
No formal goodbyes were exchanged, 
Boy! My mind is deranged. 

I watched my mind cut itself loose today, 
It dashed on off bright's a spring day, 
I tried to catch it, I swear I did, 
but that sucker done hid, 
I looked hither, thither, 
I busted up my liver, 
I bet it's now a-rot, 
Mind's not caught, 
Didn't say bye, 
"Please why?" 
I can but cry. 

----

Apologies for taking so long to post something- anything- I've been mad busy as of late. Something's coming. Something big. Besides that patched version of Last Days of Marconis Part II.
As for Paxcatia, it's not dead, it's just pining for the fjords. I'm going to re-read it once I'm done with the big project so that my next chapter can have an improved sense of focus.
I'll be back.

Before the Dawn the Sun Must Set

Before the Dawn the Sun Must Set
by Jourdan Cameron

Before the dawn, the sun must set;
The moon will rise as stars collect.
In their places they will fall-
to one another do they call?
Here below we try to connect,
we create so much; the stars live within us all.
On the inside galaxies,
outside a blank facade;
So many are victims of their own fraud.
The universe dreams when you shut your eyes;
why is a daydream a thing to despise?
One can only surmise.
The sunrise will come and one star drowns its brothers,
warming a world of lonelies and lovers,
marking the hour in which ddreams meet chance.
Before the sun rose,
somebody thus chose a pinpoint of light;
A star for the heart to start life aright.
They say that it's always the darkest before dawn,
but it's in that liong night that our souls are switched on.
Dark as it may be,
dim as it might seem,
we can ignore pain
to watch the universe dream.

Last Days of Marconis: Part II

Ladies and gentlemen, I've finished my first piece of interactive fiction! It's a sequel to an earlier story of mine, Last Days of Marconis. You can enjoy it right here. It was the last thing I made in 2012- I wanted to have it ready for the first day of 2013. Here's a table of contents in case you're feeling lost:


Last Days of Marconis
Last Days of Marconis: Part 2
Prologue/Chapter 1
What's Worse?
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Necessary Revolution
Chapter 4

Enjoy! Now, in order to enjoy my piece of interactive fiction, you'll have to download it. It's tiny- you just need to save it and open it up. It'll run in just about any web browser- I'd host it somewhere, but frankly, I'm not sure where... Have fun!

Paxcatia: Chapter 4

Sorry it took so long to get chapter four out- enjoy!

Last Days of Marconis
Prologue/Chapter 1
What's Worse?
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Necessary Revolution

Chapter 4
by Jourdan Cameron

"We've been trained for this very situation, I hope you're all ready." The squad of the Paxcatian Peace Force all nodded in agreement with their chief. The Force was ready to maintain order down at the dock, which was currently in a state of turmoil. Protesters flooded the area as a lone cargo ship glided silently above the heaving crowd, the floating machine blissfully unaware of the chaos below.
Aboard the ship, however, was an uninvited crew composed of stowaways. Their intent was espionage- they needed to understand what kind of people attacked them, and they soon realized that their assignment had suddenly become much, much easier.
"This is quite the convenience, we can slip out totally unnoticed!" Katie glared harshly at Jonathan- she was still upset at him over the small fiasco he caused. Swiftly averting her eyes to the rest of her group, she proceeded to warn them.
"Just because the crowd's completely and utterly occupied doesn't mean that a team of foreigners will be automagically accepted. For all we know, this riot could turn ugly as soon as we set foot on the ground. The best thing we can do is to sneak into the crowd and try to blend in." She suddenly looked back at Jonathan. "Without a fiasco." Sheepishly, he nodded as the vessel made a final descent.
"I think there's a-" Jonathan's fearful statement on the nature of the crowd was quick cut short- a real pity, because it could've saved everybody a fair amount of trouble. His insight into the teeming mass of humanity bordered on uncanny- but that's another story.
"…Does everybody have their civilian garb at the ready? If you're planning on getting by unnoticed, you'd best be well dressed.
Within mere moments, the ship's stowaway crew became a group of ordinary, uninteresting Paxcatian citizens. Maxwell- who much preferred to be referred to as simply "Max" bore a Dumb Lummox t-shirt. Katie smirked, amused; nobody would've ever heard the sweet sounds of the quintet that no longer existed.
Before she allowed herself to be carried away by memories, Katie dove back into managing her little invading force.
"I've got a good feeling about this" piped one spy.
Jonathan made a strange, disdainful puffing noise. "Yeah, we're running right into the land overflowing with milk and honey- didn't it nearly kill me? I think you're looking at this the wrong way. These people could destroy us if we're found out, they may as well be giants. It's not like we're going to get anywhere by-"
Another harsh glare from Katie was encouragement enough to shut Jonathan up for a few precious moments. Katie addressed the rebels once more.
"Just for the record" she said "I'd like everybody to pay some attention to Caleb's enthusiasm. If something happens to me, he's running this operation. Understood?"
In the femtosecond between Katie's having spoken and the minds of her cremates having processed the meaning of her words did a silent storm of doubts, confusion and worries as to the reliability of their leader flood the minds of every Marconi spy.
The storms continued brewing as the ship touched the ground, and at the entrance to the ship, angry fists began to pound.

"Do any of you here know the story behind Paxactia's economy? Anybody? Come on, this is elementary, surely somebody cares to- excuse me. Just… Just act like I'm not here. Work on it." Mr. Xianet was pretty preoccupied. The Paxcatian professor needed his pupils to pretend as if he weren't present. David's class sighed collectively- Mr. Xianet's methods always tended towards a certain hands-off approach that seemed more bent towards his continued convenience in opposition to his students actually learning anything. He was constantly distracted by his own pursuits, or rather, it seems, the Creative Thought class that he was supposed to be teach was a mere distraction from his pursuits. David stared into the center of the circle of the youth- these types of classes always were taught in circles for some reason, and they tended to have quite the interactive dialogue- everybody contributed something to the discussion. With Xianet, that was never the case.
After a few minutes, the class was dismissed, and the students made their ways back to their respective homes. All except for David. David, on that day, took the train to Julie's neighborhood. Upon his arrival, he found everything the way he remembered it last. The sidewalks that seemed so perfectly new, bearing nary a crack in spite of their age and the perfectly aligned houses that seemed to stretch on forever into the horizon, like an endless jaw of multicolored teeth. "The one where the sun shines" David spoke by rote. "That house-"
"Is mine." David whirled around to see Julie just behind him, smiling nostalgically.
"You know, the first time I tried to find your house, I walked around the block three times- nay- four times in search of the house the sun shone upon."
Julie shrugged. "Not my fault it was overcast. Besides, I imagine you'd have gotten over it after a good ten years?"
With a sigh, the two made their way to a beige little house. Julie's father was an artist- just the same as David's. It was through their craft that they found each other and had become the best of friends, though this is a long, old story best saved for another time.
"Dave, isn't it interesting how our fathers are both artists who wound up meeting and becoming the best of friends?"
"Somewhat, I guess. Isn't that really a long story best saved for another time?"
Julie shrugged again. "Yeah, I guess so. My dad tells it all the time."
The two entered Julie's house, which was just as unexciting on the outside as on the inside.

Like a swarm of vicious insects, a thousand angry people set their sights on the ship's main unloading bay, which opened like a massive jaw unto the pummeling masses below. The cargo ship was so blissfully unaware of it's plight as in poured the fire, the hammers, the destruction… Within moments, the contents of the ship were completely wrecked, and not too long after, the ship was no longer skyworthy- never again would it sail among the clouds.
Moments before the madness, a stealthy group of shadows slipped silently outwards, smoothly blending into and escaping from the enraged mass.
The small group had convened in a clean and unusually well-lit alley, somehow having managed to escape the attention of the already overworked police forces that were attempting to restore order as best they could.
Katie stared out at the insanity. "What are they so upset over? Seriously, it's not like they have any real problems."
"I can't say that I care to know" shrugged Jonathan. "So long as it doesn't involve us."
"We're spying this place out, I think it definitely deserves our attention" piped Peak. "I bet it probably involves whatever was in those crates…"
"Well, I guess now's probably a good time for a confession" said Jonathan. "I think I might actually be omniscient."
There were a few stifled laughs in the tiny crowd. Even Katie had to try, and try hard to avoid busting out laughing. "What exactly do you mean?" She put on her harshest, coldest, staunchest voice and it was barely enough to restrain her mirth.
"Can you explain the nature of your… Ability?"
Jonathan shrugged nonchalantly. "I know what's behind walls and stuff."
This was Katie's breaking point. She bust out laughing, a quite likely was responsible for bursting eardrums within her radius.
"Alright then" she said after gaining some control over herself. Leading Jonathan out of the alley and into the street that was curiously devoid of vehicles, she made a request  of Jonathan. "Stare at that building in front of you. The red one that looks like it's made of old-fashioned materials, what do you see?"
"Well" said Jonathan squinting "I see… I see points of light, like stars, they're moving around. Some are just still, though."
Katie sighed inwardly. "What are they?"
"Well, there seems to be one coming out of the front door… Wait, it's stopping and turning around and… Now it's coming out."
And right on cue, Mr. Xianet exited the school.

Through the atmosphere, a pair of machines discussed, in their own tongue, the situation and how to handle it.
"It's simple- we kill the escapee. Black Ace, what's the problem? Whatever slave was responsible for the early activation is now running wild in Paxcatia. Why not-"
"Because of Trust, Baron, that's why not."
"…Your line of reasoning seems vaguely human, it almost seems feeling." Of course, Ace was merely a complex computer system and was, to its own knowledge, unencumbered by something quite as human as emotion. Pride, greed, joy, love… None were present.
"My current directive is to ensure the happiness of the Paxcatian people. They must continue to trust, and knowledge of a breach in any capacity could jeopardize that."
"What else do you know about the stowaways?"
"Their numbers are limited, though they seem to possess specialized knowledge. These aren't escaped slaves, they're something else. I've never seen any of them until now."
"Very well. On another note, I lost four slaves from the factory, and I suspect they had with them the foreign body, as it's no longer anywhere in the factory… I only managed to kill two of the escapees. I have a party of stoats patrolling the forest, we'll know of their wherabouts soon."

Mr. Sere woke up. Nothing seemed to make much sense- it's as his world had been drowned, wrung out, left in a dark, damp place to mildew and finally exposed to the brilliance of the sun. He let out a weak groan- after opening his eyes, he was blinded and suddenly jolted about as the pair of escaped slaves carrying him through the woods rejoiced upon the realization that he'd finally regained consciousness.
Gently, the pair lowered Mr. Sere to the ground as he began using his eyes again and tried speaking.
"Wha- whe- who-" he gasped, making a few vaguely intelligible noises that could be construed as the beginnings of questions.
"My name is Marcia, Marcia Aveherb. My brother and I have been carrying you away from the factory."
The other escapee nodded at Mr. Sere. "My name's Will," he sighed, "Will Aveherb."
"You shouldn't worry about speaking yet, sir. It'll be awhile before the gas wears off."
"What gas?"
"We'll explain that later. Right now, we need to find shelter before night." Cautiously, Mr. Sere stood up- his burly legs were a bit unstable still, and a small flurry of dead leaves sprung up behind him as the siblings rushed up to support him, he gently waved them off.
"Don't worry, I need to get used to my legs again" he said weakly. "Just keep your eyes open for shelter. My name is Casey Sere, by the way" he said.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Sere" said Marcia. Her brother remained conspicuously silent.
"Where are your parents?" Casey asked in an attempt to break the metaphorical ice. "Are they still trapped at the factory?" Marcia stared down at the ground; it was her turn to be silent as Will spoke up.
"They died carrying you. The factory killed them."

Around the same time, a small party in Paxcatia sat down outside a quiet restaurant. The scratched wooden chairs they rested on seemed out of place, almost as much as the group of spies did. Katy, for the first time, was well-fed and somewhat nervous. The Paxcatian economy is a simple system of complex ideas, but the primary concept behind it is the idea that happiness is of greatest importance- a piece of art that makes people happy will earn an artist more merit than an artist whose work was insipid and unoriginal.
Katy was nervous- for the first time, she'd be paying out merit with an identity that was cobbled together for her by her friends back in Marconis. It had been injected by some miracle into Black Ace, and would work just fine- but there were still a thousand things that could go horribly, horribly wrong, and right know about a hundred of those things were swirling through Katie's mind.
Yet, somehow, none of them came true as she tapped out a few words on the translucent data-collection sheet handed to her by the waiter, stood up and lead her party down the well-lit streets to the nearest train station, and after a brief ride in the pods, they exited, staring silently up at the stars. The small group of strangers in a strange land were quiet for a good few moments. A few let out sighs of relief and homesickness- none of them had ever been quite this far away from home- none except for Gabriel, but his story is one for another day. Peak dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans- in spite of his tall, thin build they still seemed too tight- and pulled out a small black rectangle that glowed to life in the palm of his hand. With a few barely noticeable finger movements, the device had an objective. It glowed a bright green in one corner, pointing the group down the street towards their new home.

Elsewhere, a pair of Paxcatian youth were about to bid one another farewell.
"I've been worried about my dad lately. People aren't reacting to his art as they once did."
"I'm pretty sure it's just a weird trend" replied David. "Besides, isn't there that one guy who's always just blown away- like, completely and utterly amazed by your dad's work?"
Julie shrugged. "I guess you're right. It's just that there's not much of a demand for photorealistic oil paintings. As of late, everything's so abstract."
The two stared down the street at a small group people heading into the house next to Julie's.
"Huh" said Julie. "That house has been empty for a couple years now. Looks like somebody's moved in and I didn't even say hello."

Necessary Revolution

Chapter four of Paxcatia is complete (at long last!) and will be here soon. Meanwhile, enjoy this story that's between chapters three and four- I suspect you'll enjoy it.

Last Days of Marconis
Prologue/Chapter 1
What's Worse?
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

Necessary Revolution
by Jourdan Cameron

"Throughout human history, there's been a simple pattern: revolution, upheaval, rebirth, and a gradual decline into darkness, decay, and eventually revolution once more. Our world is slipping into the brightest darkness it has yet seen- the time has come for revolution yet again." I sighed inwardly- after a couple hours of preaching to a crowd of assorted power-hungry, warmongering fools- them, along with men who could be so easily assured of their worth- these and many others like them were gathered about me in an abandoned agricultural field- my audience finally seemed to be broken down by my argument. I decided it was time to show them the way. "People of Paxcatia, you've been trapped in the darkness far too long! This period of peace, tranquility, weakness and folly- it's given us no progress. We re-package the old and sell it off as the new, as innovation as we sink deeper into the mire of our own creation. For our nation to advance, we must topple it temporarily."
"But where do we start?" My words had finally purchased their hearts.
"Well, that's an excellent question." To be honest, I hadn't been thinking of the best way to start a revolution- does anybody, really? I fumbled about for a good response to this unusually quick-witted man...
"Much like a heart attack, we must attack this nation at its arteries- we strike their primary source of power first, their-"
"Trade routes!" Somebody else in the audience shouted, and I sighed, relieved- it was much better than my initial idea. Striking children wouldn't have made me particularly popular among the populace.
"That's right" I said, "Their trade routes. Seeing as our Paxcatian economy seems to be fueled by merit, the best thing we can do is stop incoming products- the people will have nothing worth working for. Now, any recommendations as to where we strike first?"

My name is Benjamin Rice, and this is my revolution. You received this file after passing an ancient agricultural structure- or at least the ruins of a barn that was built long, long ago. Perhaps by some miracle, the technology of today that so inundates the people of Paxcatia with a constant inflow of data will still be in use into the future long enough for the short-range transmitter relaying this message to bring it to you. I don't know what kind of people will one day read this, if any, but I do know that I will be vilified to no end. Maybe that's what's going to happen to me in the end- I'll be remembered by history merely as a destructive, deluded dimwit. Whatever the case is, consider this: Do you struggle for anything at all? Do you feel as if you have something to lose if you don't work hard right now? At the same time, do you feel like you have so much more to gain if you are to simply keep going- if you keep pushing a little harder? If not, I deserve to be a villain, for I have failed.

At this point, the crowd became much more willing to listen, and stirred by thought of action they paid close attention to my next few words.
"Paxcatia and her people have become soft, uninteresting, without character... They're so completely wrapped up in their own mundane affairs that they haven't come to the realization that their leader is a giant digital nanny with a thousand eyes and no heart. Black Ace knows only directives, not compassion, not ambition and yet somehow… in spite of knowing everything, it feels nothing. How can we, the people sit by idly as the shadow of the great foot inactivity, of stagnation and of filthy decay hangs heavy above our heads?"
"We can't!" came a woman's voice.
"Indeed" I shouted from atop my crate, nearly falling to the dusty floor after leaping with fervor, "and we shan't sit idly by- we'll trigger the revolution this nation so desperately needs. Now, perhaps we may get organized?"
Within minutes, it was unanimously decided. We'd strike the transport coming in tomorrow.
"I remember hearing about what's coming in tomorrow- it's a transport full of a new type of computer" said a tall, thin man with dark hair and skin.
"Yes, it taps into a user's nervous system, gathering data, processing it and feeding it to the user. The Neo-Tiddlu party- bless their existence- had fought against the existence of this technology for years. Now, it's coming straight for the homes and the hearts of Paxcatians."
"It looks like we picked a good time to strike" piped a person.
For a couple hours, we mostly talked among ourselves before we went our separate ways, to our homes and families. I stayed behind, writing this document.

Am I mad, sitting here in the shell of an old barn, hoping that one day my words, my thoughts will be known? Perhaps I'm insane to simply contemplate the idea that I could change the world by driving people to smash things like maddened animals, but perhaps not.
Perhaps I'm simply giving too much merit to my doubts.

Whatever the case, our assault tomorrow must be swift- I already suspect Black Ace has a clue as to what's about to happen- it's only a matter of time before the Paxcatian Peace Force is prompted to launch an investigation. What happens between right now and the dawn may decide the fate of the revolution and whatever future the Paxcatian people are to have.
This barn is an unusually cozy place for an abandoned building. As far as I can discern, it was built about a century and a half ago- Paxcatia had been at peace for a solid decade and growth in every sector of the market was rapid. for the people were eager to see the fruits of their labor. The new system built on merit was in full force, and somehow a good word was enough to secure a man good things- this barn was built solidly, with good wood and good words. A man had found a technique for growing trees that would produce unusually strong wood- but he had not the means to farm these trees en masse. Yet, through the merit system, enough people recognized his techniques as valuable, and the people united to gather the resources he needed, and with his guidance, his vision (and the visions of so many others) became reality. Thus, today, I can sit in a structure built lifetimes ago, penning words that may be picked read a lifetime later.
Of course, things slowly changed. The necessities came easier- there was no real need to fight, no need to struggle, no need to innovate as Paxcatia's government began to give more and more, and the people had reason to give less and less.
I merely want to see the growth, the innovation, the unbridled and bold creativity of those days when a man's good word was enough for good things- but a man's great word was enough for great things. So many of the Paxcatian people enjoy easy luxuries by feeding the parasites- far too many people are given far too much merit for stifling what could be growth and innovation.
History, I'm sure, will not remember me in a positive light. I probably will do ruthless, regrettable things, but may I never be remembered for giving handouts to the lazy. All I want is a world that's guaranteed not to slow to a syrupy, saturated stop.

You may wonder why I'd take such a violent, destructive route to revolution- wouldn't it merely be another in a long list of bloody conflicts and citizen uprisings? Indeed, it would be. Why not simply go to the government? Paxcatia's government is open to all seeking to accomplish grand scale goals- an overhaul isn't beyond the pervasive reach of party leaders. I ask you to look through history. You'll notice that nothing worth doing is ever done without a cost. The cost of a revolution is property, security, safety and lives. I believe it's a cost worth covering.
The revolution will buy us freedom through the greatest slavery man has ever known: necessity. Necessity that propels invention, creativity, innovation. If it is necessary to work in order to exist, then the people will choose to either work hard or cease to exist- this is what the revolution will bring.
It is necessary.

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I'm extremely proud of my sister- she's been drawing a new picture every single day for the past few months in order to help our quadriplegic aunt. If you'd like to order a commission (you can get a really awesome custom cartoon avatar for your Facebook/Twitter account), check out her blog right over here.