Pool, Afternoon, Fishing Rod

The victim was floating face down in the pool, skewered by a fishing rod, through the neck and out the mouth. The fishing hook was dangling from the corpse’s mouth. The midday sun was high in the sky. The pool reflecting the sunlight was like a mirror with a blinding brightness. It was as though the scene was not meant to exist. Detective Herston was leaning on a palm tree which was within an arm’s length of the pool. His legs were crossed over each other, revealing an intense concentration that could not even be distracted by the uncomfortable position. Herston took one last puff of his cigarette and flicked it into the pool.

Wellsville, Florida was a small town. Herston was the local detective of mediocre accomplishments, and this case was the opportunity to fix his career. The last murder was at least 20 years ago, but that was only in a robbery. No bizarre killing like this had ever occurred before.

Herston squatted beside the pool and stared intently, directly at the point where the fishing rod met the throat of the victim. Looking carefully, he realized that what he saw made no sense. The fishing rod was like any other from a fishing supply store. There was no way it could so cleanly go through a person without bending or becoming distorted. The rod was perfectly undistorted without any sign of struggling to place it. In frustration, Herston hit the surface of the water with his hand and stood up. Maybe it’s time to call the FBI, Herston thought, This is above my abilities.

Canada, 5am, Hockey Stick

Frank grabbed the hockey stick and broke it in half. The splinters were large and sharp. Being held down by three of Frank’s men, firmly pressed against the ice, James couldn’t help but to be scared. He had snuck into the gang’s headquarters early, around 5am, in order to find out where their next attack would be. But he was caught the moment he arrived.

The gang liked to call themselves Icebloods, but the FBI and Canadian police force preferred to call them the Ice Devils. They were part of a resurgence in organized violent crime prevalent in the southern Canada and western New York area. But the Icebloods were particularly gruesome, frequently impaling victims on hockey sticks, shoving pucks down throats and slicing arms with skates. To the cops, it seemed like a typical group of extortionists at first. But ever since they shot up a hockey game in Toronto a few weeks back, the Icebloods have been labeled a terrorist organization. Since then, the FBI and top Canadian law-enforcement officials had been monitoring the group.

Frank ignored James’ cries of pleading. “Don’t come around here. You should know better.” He took the splintered and struck James right in the eye. Frank left the stick in place, right in the skull. He squelched James' horrified screams with a hockey puck. With one more act of psychotic violence, he sliced open James’ neck with a skate. “Good job boys, this could’ve turned into a mess with the cops. Now, let’s get ready our next spree…”

Movie theater, Midnight, Cellphone

His cellphone rang during the movie. It certainly ruined the best part. It was right at the part where the monster was about to be killed by the medieval hero. Everyone in the theater was completely enthralled with was going on. This interruption was too much though. John was embarrassed; he prepared to be yelled at. As expected, he got boos. Even worse, three people threw their drinks at him and scored a direct hit.

But this level of hate wasn’t to be unexpected in this day and age. After all, just three weeks before the Secretary of the Treasury was kidnapped, by some unknown group of individuals, from his office and somehow managed to turn up hanging, dead, from a flag pole of Truecable Incorporated. They were simply angry about his inaction towards the survival of Truecable, unwilling to provide for its failed attempts at public distribution of its artistically questionable media. Impulsive hate and violence was maybe a sign of the times, and certainly even present in the movie theater. John, in frustration and with a touch of fear, decided to leave through the emergency exit rather than even apologize. It was midnight anyway, and he was getting tired.

Miami, 3am, Gun

The boat arrived. The delivery was supposed to be a failure, but like everything these days, nothing goes according to plan. Smuggling drugs is never a good idea when the Miami Coastguard around. It may as well be common sense even. But those ignorant dealers didn’t bother to find a roundabout route. It was easier, in their mind, to just dock at a convenient location at 3 in the morning. So of course my Coast Guard buddies and I blasted our fog horns and with a loudspeaker announced that all the dealers were under attack. Backup came about 60 seconds later, our guns easily overwhelming the 10 dealers I saw. We pointed our searchlights right onto the dock and the largest stash of cocaine I’ve seen in my life.

Then something came out of the water behind us. A huge gun seemed to be coming from a submarine, something I had never seen in my life. Maybe it was something to be expected, after all to smuggle such a huge stash took a level of planning beyond the repeat offenders I find every day. The gun opened fire and quickly tore through the hull of my ship and the two ships next to me. The shots were armor piercing bullets that I don’t think the US military has. Another huge gun appeared out of the water on the dock and shot everyone around with explosive shells. My coastguard buddies and I didn’t get to fire a shot. I think I was the only survivor. Now they’ve locked me up in one of their submarines.

Amazon, Morning, River

I really hate the river in the morning. It’s just those mosquitoes. They always bite me, so I can never sleep in just for a few moments longer. They’re absolutely huge, too. As they always say, everything is always bigger in the Amazon. A mosquito as large as your whole hand is beyond belief. I guess that’s what happens from radiation exposure.

Many people have thought that the world would end from nuclear weapons, but who could have imagined that a meteor undetectable by any modern instruments would be the real threat? Ever since the meteor hit the highest peaks of the Andes 100 years ago, it has seemed like the world would end in any moment. It gave off a unique type of radiation at levels thought to be impossible and immediately lethal. All it ended up doing was permanently altering the ecosystem.

Of course I’m the one sent to study these monstrous creatures. I don’t really care much anyway. The radiation has been spreading beyond the Amazon at an exponential rate for at least 25 years. I’ll probably turn into a monster like these creatures that woke me up this morning. So will everyone else.

Ah, finally, here’s the Super Tree. Scientists and their uncreative names… It’s huge, it looks like it is 10 trees wrapped together, tall as that skyscraper-city in Cuba. You’d think there would be a better name for it. As soon as these shark sized piranhas move I’ll be able to reach it…

Art Museum, Midnight, Ancient Artifact

It was dark in the museum. But it was midnight after all. It was a good time for Andy to get his painting back. It was a painting of ancient artifacts from the Middle East. An early and simplistic version of the Cross, the Dead Sea Scrolls and a sword leftover from the Crusades. Hardly a person to simply paint realistically, Andy was careful to add levels of meaning through drops of blood, dark forms reminiscent of death. On one level, he wanted to show the depravity of thoughtless violence. On another level, he wanted to display the meaninglessness of religious tradition.

The Artistry of Humanity Museum took his piece under orders from the Ministry of Art, in order to preserve and display works of art that display the greatness of humanity. All they had to do was walk into his studio, tell Andy who sent them, and walk right out with the painting in hand. Saying no of course would lead to arrest, so Andy calmly let them do so. It made absolutely no sense though. Did the museum curators fail to pick up on the meaning of the painting, which clearly and profoundly showed off the worst of humanity? Why not take one of his countless paintings that abstractly portray the greatest achievements of an individual in the toughest times? At best anything the Ministry says is arbitrary, but the curators always listen.

Fortunately for Andy, none knew of his past as a burglar. A past he regretted. But never fails to take advantage of what he learned from the experience. It would be a simple operation for Andy, who broke into the Queen of England’s castle at least twice. They museum would soon learn that making an artist angry is never a good idea.

Mexico, 7pm, Sword

“Are you crazy, a sword!?” is all Huerta could hear in his head. The soldiers had guns. He never had any weapon on hand except his sword. Any action would be pure sacrifice. Mexico was a place that was supposed to allow Huerta to get away from his old way of life. For better or for worse, he had now become a vigilante in any common sense of the term. He completely rejected the legal systems of both the United States and Mexico. There was nothing else to do other than remain completely self-sufficient. He refused to let anyone touch his works of art, even if all excessively lethal are illegal. Of course there were countless other reasons why Huerta was finally, in these sudden moments since the soldiers arrived, willing to declare himself a sovereign person. When soldiers are knocking on your door to take away your work, you finally come to realize that you can no longer live your life the way you want and achieve your own passions. He was a weapon craftsman, and took it very seriously. Saying no would be a mistake. It was either give up his life’s work, or go to jail unable to really live at all. It was time for Huerta to reject all things that were depriving him of life. The night was young, barely past seven; maybe there would be time to flee. But whatever the risk of bringing a sword to a gunfight, fighting back would be worth it.

Movie Theater, 8pm, Hat

The abandoned movie theater was full of random junk. Seats were broken. Projectors from the floor above were shattered in pieces on the floor. It was an odd little theater with a single screen and a large room leading to the screen and a box office. Both rooms were visually separated by a single cube-shape which lead to a second level where the projector would be. Nate was always intrigued by this place as a kid, it gave off an old fashioned aura in a time of modernity. Simplicity in design.

Nate, distracted in and lost in his thoughts, was suddenly brought to his senses by a reflection of moonlight coming from the roofless building against the metallic movie chairs. His objective was to find Vapen’s hat before the Wheaters got to it. The Wheaters were not a group to be messed with or even questioned. Nate had no idea how a hat would matter, but Vapen had told him that it wasn’t an ordinary hat. It was capable of physically altering consciousness without the side-effects of psychedelic drugs. The hat was meant to discover a new scientific truth, or so Vapen claimed so Nate thought it would be worth it. The Wheaters had no intention but to destroy the device.

Vapen was frequently forgetful, so any retrieval was normal for Nate as a personal assistant. It was odd, though, that even Vapen would forget such an important technological contraption. Suddenly, something hit Nate in the head and rendered him unconscious. Nothing could be seen in the darkness of the night.

New York, Noon, Broken Bicycle

Paul was riding his bike through New York City. He looked up at the skyscrapers in wonderment. Breathed in the dirty air as though it were refreshing. Heard the loud cars scream out the lives that people live. But Paul couldn’t remain relaxed for too long. He had to get to the photo shoot on time, so he was pedaling as fast as he could. It was 11:47, barely enough time to get to a noon photo shoot. It would be his first day on the set, the first opportunity in months for him to make some money to support his career in fashion design. Modeling had never been an interest to Paul, he just needed to make ends meet.

Paul reached the end of the block. The tires suddenly completely shredded. In his nervous distraction, Paul ran over what appeared to be a broken six pack of beer bottles. He couldn’t ride anywhere. It was a random object to find at the corner of a sidewalk. But then again it was the city, a place where expected actions are not the norm. Paul felt a sudden burst of emotion that he had never felt before and remained still. His emotion was a realization that a lack of norms is what made the city appealing in the first place. Taking the time to go to this photo shoot was simply to live up to a standard of “needing” money, to have money at any cost, even to sacrifice what really makes one happy. Spending anything in order to get money? It made no sense.

Paul felt a mixture of frustration, anger and confusion that he had not realized this before. He could have been spending his time making more of his super-sensational fashion designs that he loved. Paul knew he had to stop avoiding what he really cared about. So in what could only be described as impulsive enlightenment, he threw his bike into the middle of the street. He didn’t need to go anywhere or do anything that wasn’t important. All he had to do, he thought, was design; no, to make art! There was a line of sunglasses that needed finishing. The line Paul felt in all his confidence would change his life. Particularly the pair that started out as nothing more than jagged edges on the rims. He had finally realized that the only way he could truly make ends meet was to stop living according to some norm he knew that he disagreed with, that he knew was wrong. Art first, money secondary. Live as though the city were his heart.

Beach, Noon, Book

It was around noon, and the beach was quiet. It was a hot day, but no one visited the beach in at least 5 years. Greg was driving his run-down SUV; the whole windshield was missing and all the doors were missing except the one by the driver’s seat. Much of the roof was torn, only a slab covering the back seats remained. He had to get to the Caliente Hotel, one of the few hotels remaining along the southern Florida coast. Few places were safe anymore, so Greg had to hurry. He had to deliver Traleri’s book. It wasn’t safe to e-mail it, some hacker could easily find it on the now severely compromised network. The delivery had to be personal.

Greg continued down the coast. There was a flock of seagulls pecking at some courses next to a flaming car, up by the boardwalk. A whale and plenty of rotting fish were right along the coast. The whole sight was depressing and unusual, nothing like Greg could have imagined as a 5 year old making sand castles. But now all the water was contaminated. No one really knew how it occurred; many just assumed the National Public Health service mistakenly added too much of a mild psychedelic drug to the drinking water and things went out of control and spread quickly throughout the nation’s water supply. It was supposed to help the citizens feel a little less depressed, just like fluoride to improve teeth, but all that resulted was widespread and uncontained depression. So many people died in one month that the entire government collapsed in the chaos. No one could figure out that it was the water that was the problem until at least half the population died.

All that remained now were city-states, primarily defined by their computer networks and electronic defenses. Ever since the hurricane, though, all networks in southern Florida were compromised. It would take at least a year to build back up. It severely hindered Traleri’s efforts to form a safe and free environment, free of the isolation that had been plaguing what was once a country. For some reason or another though, many cities preferred to achieve control of land with violence. And certainly if they knew of Traleri’s plans to form a free state, they would kill him.

Greg saw the beaten-down hotel up the sand dunes. The plan book would be in Traleri’s hands soon enough. It was the beginning of the future.