The Clockmaker Diary - entries 00001 - 00003

entry 00001

it is a truely unique time when mankind joins together to create for the common good.
knowledge is power. the consolidation of power in too few hands yeilds tyranny.
we decided that information must be free to all.

we fucked it up.

by an overwhelming vote, we started a free network. from dark fiber, a light was lit
that was to enlighten the world... to rejuvenate the beacon of hope in that
shining city on the hill. a free network. free from wires. free from cost.
free from the hands of those that manipulate information to gain power over others.
the idea spread with the sound of a billion peoples' syncronistic demand for equality.
a world of free information. that beacon had never shown so bright,
nor cast a shadow so long.

it started with sharing. it ended with sharing.

his name was Ashida Shin-ra. he ran a torrent tracker on a server in singapore.
he liked anime. he was in university. he was average height and build.
he wore glasses, no contacts. he was afraid to touch his eyes. he was famous
where we come from. his was the first site banned from the worldnet.
an outcry rang like the ripples of a tear in the ocean... unrelenting,
yet invisible after the initial rings. the second torrent tracker was brough down.
another tear in the ocean. when the 50th tracker went down, no one really noticed.
no one except for us.

#50 - fernando gomez, costa rica. torrent tracker.
#143 - allan greenfield, ohio. private ftp.
#233 - adrienne laroque, france. pornography (assumed child pornography).
#1224 - sasha ?, russia. anarchist calling for violence.
#23111 - mark hammond, california. political satirist.

complacency is slavery

at #50,000 (allison belue, kentucky. reason unknown), a small group of us decided to
build a second net.
a free net.





The Clockmaker





entry 00002

two computers, one line. that is how it started.

it was a network built without plan or design, just people linking to
each other. then these pairs paired off with pairs. the second net was
thousands of private networks isolated from power, yet isolated from
each other. out of each of these private nets, leaders arose. counsels
were established. freedom breathed new life.

the meeting was called.

it is unknown who initiated the line that lead to the great hall. by air
and by sea, 19 made their way through the snow to that relic of empires
past. that great hall. we knew we had to come. some of us leaders. some
of us emissaries. all of us unified in the belief that freedom is a
right. for six days and six nights, we worked towards an agreement. a
document. a set of beliefs. in the end, it came down to the Four
Principles.

1) our net is free from censorship.
2) all material posted on the net is copyrighted to the creator with an
"attribution, noncommercial, no derivative" license. all else is public
domain. the creator may remove any part of this license, but may not add
to it.
3) all material posted on the net moves into public domain 15 years
after being posted, regardless of license.
4) the net will remain neutral. no person, company or organization will
have preference in speed, access, or connection.

the actual document was longer, but these were the main points. these
points could not be altered. there were other sections that were meant
to be changed as time passes by a 2/3 majority, but the Four Principles
were an enduring, everlasting agreement committed to repairing the
mistakes of the past.

our net thrived.

though never overtaking the size of the old net, our net was a sanctuary
of freedom. what are a few million people when compared to the billions
on the old net? the older generations either never knew about us or did
not understand us. yet most of the software they used, goods they
bought, and art they loved came from us.

it was a beautiful day in the autumn when the world turned it's eye
towards us.

we thought the red hue on the horizon would never fade...

it never really did.




The Clockmaker





entry 00003


six explosions on as many continents in as many days.

chicago
sao paulo
bombay
london
syndey
alexandria


we call them one explosion, but that would have been too clean. in
reality, one major explosion was made in the heart of each city, then
the smaller bombs struck the evacuation routes three hours later. same
story in every city. we lost 4 of the 19 that day.

the word anger does not seem strong enough. the word hatred does not do
justice to the feelings towards those that would diminish the light of
the world by 1.27 million flames. again, everyone joined together for
the common good of humanity. again, that beacon of light was twisted
into the sour beast of control.

it was when we first heard that word that we began to see what was
happening directly before our eyes, yet hidden behind the green curtain
of power.

there are moments in time that are different from all other moments. moments that mark a
split time. there is time before this moment and a time after this moment. shortly after
the attacks we saw such a moment pass. on a little screen, we watched a little man utter
a single word. a word that would change our lives.

Terrornet.

they dubbed our freenet... Terrornet.

though we did not realize it at the time, this was the actual moment the war began.
though, there would not be a shot fired or system dropped until 40 days later.

with that one word, the old world declared war on the new frontier in a last effort to
claw back from the depths of obscurity.

complacency is slavery.

and so the war begins.




The Clockmaker

Shadow Puppets

Shadow Puppets

I sit here sweating in perpetual light, afraid to sleep, afraid to eat, afraid to do anything. Tomorrow, I intend on breaking this stalemate with this creature that hunts me. Whether real or imagined, we will find out tomorrow. Let this document stand and as ramblings of a madman or a record of my final night on this Earth.

It started two years ago. I had been getting an uneasy feeling. You know, the sort of feeling you get before a loved one dies. It started to interrupt me at work. While working the phones doing technical support, I would feel the weight on my back of someone staring intently at me, only to turn and face an empty room. Out of the corners of my eyes, I would catch a glimpse of movement but could never quite seem to find whatever seemed to be stalking me. It only happened at work and became more and more menacing. Eventually I started calling in sick more and more often. Only in the sanctuary of my own home did I feel safe, did I feel in control.

My last day at work terrified me. I felt that gaze yet again but fought the urge to turn and see nothing. The hairs on the back of my neck rose to meet the cold breath. The chill then ran down my spine and into my legs before the chill of ice froze my feet to the bone. I jumped up turning my small cubicle computer desk over in the process to greet the nothingness that haunted my days. The only being that took notice was the security camera in the corner next to the stairs that lead down to the smoking area. I knew KNEW that something was there stalking me. I went to the security desk at the main entrance and demanded to see the video from that camera. Mike, the elderly security man, said it was against company policy to show footage to employees. I said, “Mike, you are a fine elderly gentleman. You have always been kind to me. We are the only people on this floor.” I rifled through my wallet. “I have $247 here in my hand if you will show me the tape of my desk for the last hour.” I knew that was about fifty bucks short of his weekly salary. I guess he did too. He pulled a tape from a machine bank behind the desk and sent me to a side room. He told me to view it there in privacy. I think more to cover his ass than give me any sense of privacy.

There I was on this little black and white screen. Drinking my coffee and chatting on the phone. The screen flickers. Static. Nothing but God damned static. When the picture comes back, it is my table turned over with my computer on the floor. I took the tape to Mike and asked him to view it. “I can't.” He said. “My boss is in the building now. Thanks for returning it to me so fast. I would get fired if anyone knew I let you see this.” Fine. I dropped the tape, handed him my security badge, and walked out the front door. That was the last time I set foot in that building.

On the way home, I stopped at the grocery store and filled up two carts with cat food, canned foods and powdered drink mix. Easily enough to last me and Chairman Meow the next few months. I also picked up toilet paper, cleaning chemicals, medical supplies, a handful of books, and filled the car up with gas. That should do it, I thought to myself. No reason to leave the house until I get this thing figured out. Once at home, I carried everything inside and shut the door, not knowing that I wouldn't open it again for 74 days.

I do love this modern world in which we live. With a little money in the bank and a decent debit card, a person can order anything, pay bills, make friends... hell... live an entire life without ever leaving the comfort of his favorite easy chair. Step One was to cut all superfluous expenditures. No need for cable tv. The internet provided everything I needed. Want to watch a tv program? Download it. No need to heat or cool this big old house. I shut off every room of the house other than the living room, kitchen, and bathroom. I didn't even use my bedroom anymore. I took to falling asleep on the couch so I could still chat with my wireless keyboard. It's amazing how fast time passes in this manner. this manner of doing nothing yet remaining completely busy at all times. Only I, my online friends, and possibly federal employees enjoy the true knowledge of that feeling.

I heard a knock on the front door in the late evening after about two and a half months. It was my sister all puffy eyed and spent. Mom died, she said. Viewing is tomorrow at 3pm and the funeral will be the following day at noon. I invited her in for a drink. Sorry for the state of disarray the house is in, I said. She looked around puzzled. I had to cut costs so I am only using a small space in the house. What happened to you, she asks. Tammi said you flipped out destroying your cubicle and never went back to work. The stress must have been getting to me, I said. Either way she could see that I was happy and fully functional now. I chalk that one up to her being blinded by grief. She said Mom died peacefully in her sleep of a massive aneurysm. I didn't want to talk about it. We made small talk for about an hour and she left. I did laundry and shaved off my beard. Couldn't go to my own Mother's funeral looking a mess.

The morning sun flooded the foyer as I took a deep breath. Whatever demons has haunted me were left at work that day, I told myself. I stepped out into the light. What a strange feeling. When a person is shut into the dark for such a long time without contact with sunlight, the skin gets a bit tender. I could almost feel the solar radiation baking my skin. At least it was October instead of the end of July. I don't think I could have stood the summer heat.

The viewing went well, I guess. As well as could be expected. Everyone had the same reaction upon first seeing the body. Everyone gave a little chuckle. The girl that does the makeup for the recently deceased obviously has a much better handle on modern styles that the elderly. Mom could have been in Grannies With Guitars with that hair and makeup job. Maybe the makeup artist does it on purpose to lighten the mood. Either way, it made the whole ordeal much more bearable.

After the viewing, everyone met at Mom's house for dinner and stories. And by dinner and stories, I mean drinking. Lots and lots of drinking. It was nice to see everyone again after so many years. Sis was three sheets to the wind, but her husband was doing a good job taking care of her and I took the kids outside to try and keep them entertained. In the light of the setting sun, we made shadow puppets on the side of the house. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I am a brilliant shadow puppeteer. I started off teaching the kids how to make a goose neck and head, then moved on to a Doberman and finally a bird. Then I pulled out the big guns. I made a shadow puppet of Charles Barkley doing what else than talking smack to an unseen opponent. Then a full rabbit eating grass. Totally engrossed, I was happy to see on the wall appear the swan that I taught earlier. I kept my eyes focused on the wall. The swan started to nibble at the rabbit. With each nibble, I removed more and more of the rabbit thinking the kids would enjoy such an illusion. The chill hit my spine and I froze with terror eyes trained on the wall. The swan tucked it's head in and started to grow in size morphing into what looked like a man wearing a trench coat. I dropped the rabbit. The trench coated silhouette reached out to the shadow of my body and pierced my chest moving to my heart. I collapsed with the sound of car doors slamming and the hand of my Brother-In-law taking me by the arm. “Hey, man, are you ok?” He asked. “You have been here staring at this wall for almost an hour.” He tried to take stock of me, but assumed I had more to drink. I looked at the minivan to the kids all waving me from the rear windows. How long has it been since the kids and I were making shadow puppets, I asked. He responded that nearly an hour had passed since they came in from the cold. I told him that, indeed, I was a bit too intoxicated and gave him that patented smile of mine. The smile of lies. He once again gave me condolences for losing my mother and joined his family in the minivan.

Terror. Had the creature I had been eluding for these few months found me again? I don't really remember the drive home. I am pretty sure I left my finger prints on the steering wheel of my car, though. The door slammed shut and locked tight. Everything I need is here. Maybe I can figure out a way to make money on the internet. Lots of other people do it. Why not me? Surely Mom left me a sizable inheritance that would last me until I am up on my feet. I sat down at the computer to see if I could find anyone else with similar experiences. Maybe they could shed some light on my situation. I drifted in and out of sleep on the couch not quite understanding how I got to it from my chair. Then I heard a sound the broke my warm dark blanket of blissful sleep. It sounded like a hand sliding down a balloon slowly followed by a very quick high pitched squeal. It couldn't have lasted for more than a tenth of a second. I stayed lying there for as long as I could take it with my eyes closed. I felt something moving around the room. Felt, not heard. This thing never makes a sound. I could not take it anymore. I shot forward into a sitting position on the couch, seeing the thing, as always, move out of my peripheral vision. I picked up the only thing I had handy... my wireless keyboard. Poised like a great ball player ready to knock one into the upper deck, I moved through the living room finding nothing. The kitchen also checked out fine. Finally I made my way to the bathroom. There I found a horror. I found Chairman Meow, both of him. On one side was his skin, in tact, and turned inside out. On the side of the bathroom next to the toilet, at the end of a three foot blood trail, was the rest of him. I cried at the thought of my kitty with no skin trying to drag himself along the floor to safety. I slumped to the floor crying.

Once I regained composure I carefully put my beloved kitty in a tin foil baking dish, skin and all, took him out back to the patio, doused him with gasoline, and set him on fire. If people found him in the terrible condition I did, they would think that I did this horrible act, so I sent him off like a Viking hero. Once the flames died down, I put him into a trash bag to send off on Tuesday morning with everything else. I should have buried him. I still feel bad about that, but I couldn't be outside for the required time to do it. It might come back. I carried him back inside so the neighborhood dogs wouldn't dig him out of the trash pile and put the bag just inside the back door. After turning into the kitchen, I saw the shadow figure again moving out of view into the hall that goes to the living room. Every time I passed a light switch, I turned it on. I have seen enough horror movies to know that evil haunts the shadows.

I started the cleanup, first washing the floor in the bathroom. Then I washed the bathroom floor again. I could have washed it with tears. After finishing the third wash, I sat back trembling in the light. Light from everywhere. If I had a light in the house, it was on. I went to wash my hands in the sink and screamed. I mean screamed like a little girl. In the sink was my Mother's favorite wood handled knife. The one she used to cut potatoes. The wood handle was stained red with blood as was the rest of the knife. So that is why I saw the shadow when returning to the interior of the house. It is going to drive me crazy if it can't kill me. It planted the knife to make me think I could have done such an act. Well, there is no way. I love that cat. I love it as much as any person I have ever known. There is no way I could have done it. NO WAY.

One day just after New Years, my own shadow turned on me. You never really realize it, but when you have many lights on all around you, you cast many shadows. The thing must have learned that this was the only way it could get to me now. I caught it sneaking up on me as I stared to doze off. That is when I built the contraption.

The contraption is made from a lamp, pieces of a hard hat, miscellaneous pieces of other house hold things. Tape. Lots of tape. And an extension chord. It is a perpetual light hat that shines directly over me. the only shadow it casts is down. And if i sit in my easy chair, there is no shadow at all. Sure, there are shadows everywhere else in the room, but there is a protective halo of perfect light all around me. That used in parallel with all the amphetamines one can easily purchase over the internet and I have a perfect situation. Well, had a perfect situation. No shadows, no sleep.

Over four hundred and fifty days have passed in this state and Mom's money has run out. I am two months overdue on my electric bill and tomorrow it is getting turned off. At least the amphetamines made it this long, though I just emptied the last of the bottle. I don't know how long I will be able to defend myself from the encroaching shadows or even what damage they can do to me, but I get the tingling on my neck. To whomever reads this. Do not look into the shadows. You might just see what is looking back.

The Replicator

The Replicator

I have to tell you, son, I haven't lived a life as good as it should have been. I could have changed the world, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I am not sure if it is the standard Father-Son relationship issues, but I have never told you the things I always wanted to say.

For me to properly explain everything I want you to know, let me tell you a bit about your great grandfather. He was a physicist and a damn good one from what I can remember. He worked with Von Braun in Huntsville, Alabama during the Cold War. Together they created a nuclear propulsion system to be used in space travel at some point in the future if the blasted government will ever decide to declassify it. After his work, he started a robotics company. His robots are the ones you see detonating bombs, building automobiles, flying combat missions, and rambling about on other worlds. He got heavily into politics during that time. I guess it was a way to stay in the hunt for more defense contracts. And by “getting heavily into politics”, I mean he was a major contributor to each political party and dozens of candidates. He didn't really care about the politics. He just wanted everyone to know his name and that he was a person to be reckoned with.

That is how your grandfather, my father, got into politics. He did have a head start. Not only did powerful people owe us an audience, but a helping hand. Father went to West Point and though he was never what one would call a great student, he seems to be able to get the right people to notice him at the right time. After graduating dead center of his class, he embarked on the very dangerous war time position of guarding the Statue of Liberty. Not as glamorous as walking the front lines, but he stayed alive which I (and you) are very grateful. He went on to start a company that built apartments for the poor. It wasn't out of a sense of civic purpose as much as guilt. He knew he should help people, but couldn't seem to do as much as he should. He used his newly acquired wealth to make a run for the Senate, which with the help of Grandfather's connections went swimmingly. He became the first member of our family to hold such an esteemed position. I was very proud that he was my father. I'm sure Grandfather would have been equally as proud if he were still alive. I remember starting high school at the dreadfully drab private school in Virginia and being surprised that my father wasn't the only 'Father-Senator' amongst the fellows in my class. Actually, that school seemed a breeding ground for future politicians and captains of industry. I met Vanderbilt's, Rockefeller's, Morgan's, Chaney's, and Roosevelt's just to name a few. Actually, a Morgan is your Godfather. Of course that doesn't mean that if you die, you will go to him. It is more ceremony now. Not that you have much to worry about. You will be 18 in less than a year. But I digress. I should get on with the story.

You can't put inevitability on hold, you know. I graduated from that high school before Father's first term was up and went happily off to Yale. Father wanted me to follow in his footsteps and start a military path, but I would have none of it. While he was trying to groom me for Congress and possibly the Big Chair, it wasn't in the least bit anything I wanted for myself. I fancied myself a playboy. Why should I toil for a lifetime when the family had done well enough before me that I could live a month's lifetimes without as much as making a dent in our family wealth. I understand now that he just wanted me to be a good person, to work for what I received, and to be proud of serving people that couldn't help themselves.

I didn't get to enjoy the playboy lifestyle for very long. Son, you never got to meet your Grandfather, but let me say... he was the kindest,but most driven man you could ever meet. He had the guilt of the rich, but he was strong, as strong as your Great Grandfather. That is why it surprised me when he killed himself on the very day his father killed himself as well. October 22nd. I had believed he missed his Father terribly. Either way, I could no longer live my life of leisure. I had an important decision to make. I needed to serve humanity. I knew the correct answer immediately. I went to work helping eradicate disease in the third world. I rode the well oiled horse of our family connections. I put up our family fortune to do the work. After all, that fortune was meaningless, especially next to the suffering of the infected and dieing. What did money mean to me, after all? We cured hundreds of thousands of people, but the more we cured the harder I had to work. With the help of the wealthiest families in the country, we set up hospitals, nurseries, orphanages, and mobile clinics. I used all the families resources and spent more than the money that was left to me. We did well, but not well enough, I fear.

Let me get back to your Great Grandfather for a minute. I didn't properly explain what he succeeded in accomplishing. On the day Von Braun died, they created a device the world had never seen before. It was a replicator. It could form anything by manipulating electrons, protons, and neutrons. Just keep it stocked with waste materials, it doesn't matter what, and it can create anything that has been created up to that point. A ball cap. A shoe lace. A brick of gold. A diamond. It doesn't matter to the replicator. Your Great Grandfather knew he should give this device to humanity, but he also understood what would happen. Imagine a world where nothing is precious, a world where nothing has value. All monetary systems, and therefore the world economy itself, would collapse. The world would be plunged into a darkness it has not know in a millennium, but would emerge into a light it has never known. A world where a man is held accountable by his deeds, not by his earning power. It would be a world where no one goes without medicine, food, or clothing. The question is, how long will the darkness last? Fifty years? Two hundred years? A thousand years? I have no idea. I was never any good at seeing how these things work. Once your Great Grandfather had used this machine to make a perfect diamond, which is now on display in the Tiffany's window. He used that money to launch his robotics company. I'm not sure if he just got used to the money or feared living out the rest of his days in a world of hell where it is every man for himself that could last a thousand years. I do know he considered this a family curse. That is why the day he killed himself he wrote a letter to my father giving his final wishes, that my Father had two options: 1) He has to give this device to mankind in his lifetime, or 2) He must pass it on to his son with the same requirement.

My Father didn't have the strength to go through the agony of living in a collapsed world so he did the only thing he thought he could do, he decided to serve his fellow citizens in public office. I don't think he found the job as helpful as he thought it would be. After spending 5 years getting muddled down with paper work and the job of politics, he decided to give me a chance to do what needed to be done. We all know how that turned out. I immediately tested the machine and made twenty bricks of solid gold, though I do believe I used the money to do good. What else would I use it on? Money became meaningless to me. This is how I gained the fear. If money meant nothing to me, a person that never wanted for anything, how would it affect a person that has struggled his entire life? How would it affect five billion people like that? I have to admit to you, son, I couldn't bring myself to go through that life and surely I couldn't put you through something that permanently traumatic.

I am my Father's Son as he was his Father's Son and I honor my Father's final wishes as he honored his Father's final wishes. Included with the packet with which this letter was delivered to you are detailed descriptions of how to use the replicators, lists of prominent families that owe us favors (and why they owe us said favors), and a more detailed list of your family history. I give you the gift of deciding for yourself how you will live out your days on this planet. Hopefully you will be able to live without the crushing guilt that has been present in my life from the time my father died until now. I love you, son. Good luck.

I am with you always,
Your Loving Father.
October 22

Purpose

This is my quiet corner of the internet to post my short stories and general thoughts. If you enjoy or have any critiques, I would like to hear them in the comments of each post.

Thanks,
Otto