George
Willard Networks Whistleblower
- Joined
- Nov 19, 2021
- Messages
- 1,550
- Thread Author
- #1
You sit before a dusty figure, dressed in shattered waistcoat and wide brimmed hat.
The fire separating the two of you chirps, the heat and light invading the open air holding a cool darkness
against it. The figure sits there, a tin resting upon his lap, rolling some loose tobacco into a paper between his fingers.
The two of you share his monologue, compelling him to speak.
See, in real truth I suppose there ain't too much t'be said about the past. Reality of the situation is that life f'me and my folk
was always a struggle, jus' got those dreams when I was young. I remember this one time my daddy took me up t'the mountains, must've
been on one've his trips up to South Carolina as we were upstate in the blue ridge. One o'dem days he rode up past me, just kept
on riding. In my head I wasn't worried, cus' somehow in my head I had it sound out he was gon' set up a fire for us both. Keep us warm.
After a few years I s'pose you truly see how things are. You don't know the good days until they're gone n'all, and coming up on age
me n' my brother came to understand that just's good as anyone else. Mother got sick when we were real young, didn't help
us takin' it all out on the other kids at school s'pose, but m'daddy wasn't exactly as kind as he use t'be. Drink got him in t'end, c'ourse
he wasn't quick about doin' it. Left enough time t'ruin us, he made good sure of that.
I think after all've that business I just decided to move away from our home town, leave everyone behind. Took up trucking.
Wasn't shame in leaving that place, not really thinkin' back to it. Those who didn't saw themselves rot in that town, ain't nothing left
but bones at the end of it all. Picked by vultures in the sun, scrapping all the meat they can and nobody t'say no different about it.
After the war an' everything I was moved around a whole bunch. Got t'see Ireland once-upon a time, but it ain't as green as promised.
Maybe I'll see some Irishman about that, shake him up. Maybe it ain't worth the time, I don't know anymore. Ended up stayin' under some bar as hired
protection. Talked myself up for some shit I ain't even apart of, made a few friends movin' product from A to B and made some sort've name
in that regard. Red. Things ended up decent f'me, town of immigrants flew in from a different slum n'fucked the whole place up. Can't say I minded
all too much.
Few people stick out from aroun' that time. Russian lady I was helpin' move product was decent enough, plus a few o' them green feller's
they're callin' "Vortigaunts". Freed on've 'em, watched him die. Lenny was his name, or what I called 'em at least. There was some revolution
in the days near the end of it all, on've them whiten's ripped a hole through his chest the size of an apple. I watched him fall, there was
nothing dramatic to it. He was there, then he was gone.
Few other folk I met in that time, few I see around these days. Hell, I think I may be t'last in town that I can recall.
They're all either dead or re-located. That's the way these things go, I s'pose. Still see posters of that 'Zima' fella around
every so often. Guess I made out luckier than her did in t'end.
I was never one for sticking around too much in one place. Had to move in the end, I s'pose we all did.
Place was goin' to shit and even those in t'tower figured that. They sent us off with the immigrants, back to their home
S'pose in the end that's their idea of some sick joke, call it 'revenge' or somethin' to get back at them.
Stayed with a bunch've folk in on've the main districts, 'Rice' was one of 'em. Shame what happened to her.
Hearts was another, ran on've them clinics you see pop up n'around. Eventually the city got too hot f'all of us.
Used t'run with a few Italians too, few more've them green fellas. Jax was one've 'em, heard that one
had a similar fate too. Guess that's t'be expected f'them folk, endangered species n'all that comes with it. Won't be too long
until we qualify for that list too, come t'think about it. Used t'run bounties with the both of 'em, killed one've them
Gargantuas or whever they're call at one point. Probably a baby 'ne.
I remember when those Ant's were headed t'the city. I actively participated in that, stormed one'o'dem checkpoints or
whatever they're callin' it with some jerry-rigged shit. I was the brains behind all'o that, n'we all made it out alive at the end of it all.
Maybe it's something I was good at one point in time, maybe blind luck. Truth is I don't really know.
Moved from district to district for quite some time, got a small crew with this older fella n'sold product for him an' myself. Big products too.
I remember gettin' in a fuckin' bazooka at one point in time, one hell've a trophy t'distrobute around. I think I enjoyed that sort've thing.
I was good at it too. Kept tellin' myself n'others I was gonna make enough t'retire, find myself a place t'watch the world kill itself.
Nobody bought into all that, not even me.
I suppose there ain' really much of a moral t'this story, nor a message about life hidden within.
Life is hard on people, always has been. Time's ain't much too different now if you's look into it enough, if anythin'
it's clearer than it's ever been.
Life ain't kind.
Somewhere out there is a true and living prophet of destruction and I don't want to confront him. I know he's real. I have seen his work
Last edited:
