Space Command

20 years on........... Exploring a possible future

The Global Resistance Network comprises of a group of hackers and freedom fighters who wage terrorist war against the US in both the real and the virtual world. The hackers routinely bring down and subvert links in the US communication network often in conjunction with physical attacks – mostly hit and fade style affairs.

Working mostly in fully integrated cells with very little influence from central command. The only distinctive goal of its many groups ethos’s is the end of US global dominance.

The whole world lives in fear of US power and there is no one country that will shelter or back the GRN. Global population is high, disease – mostly in the “Old world” is rife, as is poverty. The Global depression has ground down even many of the formerly affluent European nations. Outside of the US itself, outlets selling US goods often find themselves the target of terrorist attacks, with governments feeling obliged to fund the security of these outlets for fear of US reprisals.

The planet has suffered horrendously under US dominance too, and while Rich Americans colonise the parts of the world that are still comfortable to live in, the majority of people suffer in climate conditions that have rendered much of the planet uninhabitable. The remainder of humanity clings on in parts of Europe, the Middle East and Asia that have not either sunk beneath the waves or become too hot to live in. The US continues to burn resources without care for the rest of the world.

What follows is the story of one European group as they begin a highly risky campaign against US listening and communications networks on European soil.

 

You can scream at the walls, but they don’t listen. You can sit here, in the white room, and scream while your forehead bangs off the soft foam padding, knowing that they still won’t listen. You cannot stop yourself from trying to make them hear.

Why won’t they listen? You will never know for sure because they certainly do not value your opinion. You have heard nothing in this room but the sound of your own voice, bouncing back mockingly at you. You no longer strain to remember the sound of another human voice. How long has it been?

You have no way of telling, you cannot fathom the changeless hours in the white room. The light stays, white, unyielding. You feel that the light has burned its way through you, staring directly into your soul. Nothing can hide in this light, it touches everything.

You know that the light, like the walls, values you not at all. It peers mindlessly through every part of you, exposing every filthy human piece of flesh in it’s pristine gaze, but cares nothing at all for what it has revealed. You are as like to your own spittle, exploding forth on the air with every hoarse cry from your throat, to it, messy organic matter.

You turn your mind to the incoherent noise issuing from that same throat and try to decipher some meaning in it, some clue as to why you are in this place at all. Was it truly always this way? Are these plastic moulded walls, soft padded floors a prison to you, or are they your life? Something in the way your voice falls off them suggests to you that perhaps there may have been other places before. It sounds harsh and muffled and you feel certain that it has not always sounded that way.

You struggle more to comprehend this noise. You realise it does have a pattern, in peaks and troughs. Four parts, barked by your raw throat and you realise with growing interest, that they are each very individual. You strain your mind to recall some meaning, but the sound of your own voice keeps intruding, breaking the flow of your thought. It’s almost as if your voice was some kind of alien thing to you – out-with your control.

There must be some meaning to this. There must be some meaning to this, there must be.... There must. What do these words mean any more? Already you can feel the second litany of noise emerging, one inside your brain. There must be some meaning to this......