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Capitalism has screwed Florida over again
09-12-2017, 07:55 PM
Post: #1
"Mark Brooks, so nice of you to speak to me. You'll be excused for not differentiating between my sister and I. I'm told we look similar enough, if you discount the fact that I'm in a mask, not a woman, don't have blonde hair, and don't directly speak. This is not my voice, this is a computer generating my thoughts into a speech like format, similar to that of Stephen Hawkings, if you forgive his being lower technologically than mine is. I can also forgive you for your misplaced confidence and bravado, but I cannot forgive you for thinking you'll be winning this match. No, that honour will not befall you, just as surely as you and I will not be meeting in the pinfall of this match, that will likely be a race between the two of us to see who pins Finn Kuhn first. I will allow you the chance to pin him once or twice before the final pin goes to me. You see, Mark, you're a hungry little upstart here, bragging of past laurels to intimidate me, and they will earn you no such reaction. I shall respect what you've allegedly done in the past, but I will fear you not. I've stood in the sands of Mogadishu providing aid to those who need it, I've been in Syria working to aid those injured by the White Helmets and Hezbollah alike. I've walked through Libya in the wake of Muammar Gaddafi's assassination. I've strolled in Havannah with Fidel, enjoyed cigars with Ernesto, and walked through Chiapas with the Zapatista. I've done all of this, more, and none of it. And yet, I do not fear you or what you have done in the past.

You see, Mark Brooks, I am nothing, and everything. I am not a man, I have no home, I have no name, no face, and no history. My history is the history of the working class. I was there in Haymarket, an I was there at the Chicago Fire. I have done all of this, and none of this because I am not a person. I'm an idea, a concept. And you cannot hold me down, you cannot frighten me, or intimidate me. Not as an idea. Not as a concept, or an illusion. A spook, if you will. I assume you're under educated on literature, and thus will need to have the term spook explained to you. A spook is a ghost of the mind, something man-made and in your head. It's not real. Consider me a Spook, if you will. Every week I could very easily be a different individual under the mask, and you would never know. In fact, it would behoove me to be several different people under the mask, and rotate at will. You certainly have no evidence to prove that's not the case, and yet you would attempt to judge me by what you think you've seen of me in the past.

It's not the string of losses that you don't have, or the new kid on the street mentality that leads me to believe you'll lose, it's the fact that you're underestimating me. You're predicating your opinion of my performance on something you saw in another match, that very well may not be me, and yet you foolishly call for us to not underestimate you, or judge you too harshly. Well, I am most assuredly judging you, and I find you wanting in every department. But, as the good German said, From each according to his ability, thus I am asking of you to do what is in your ability to do. Stand back and let me win the match cleanly, and with limited issues. Please"

Kropotkin paused and looked to his left where Sasha was seated, playing on her phone. Mark lowered the camera and moved to sit on the edge of the table in the RV. He holds his hands in front of his mouth, pressed together as if he were smelling his index fingers, exhaling as he releases his hands to his sides. "How does this voice thing work? It's not your voice? But it's your thoughts?" Kropotkin and Sasha look at each other, hesitating to explain the procedure.

"It reads the thought patterns and puts them to words, but it only works if the speaker is within 6 meters. I keep the speaker with me. That way Kroppy can't go too far without me, they can't communicate." Sasha grinned and elbowed Kropotkin in the side. "Kroppy has a habit of abandoning me. Now they'll be rendered mute without me. Kind of wish Mark Brooks was rendered mute, though. That might save us from the sounds of his uselessness." She laughs as she gets up and walks to the back of the RV. "Now, Kroppy will be rendered a mute."

There's a knock on the door. Mark gets to his feet and walks to open the door. It's Steve Sayors, the XWF interviewer. He makes his way up to the couch where he sits next to Kropotkin. "Uh, hi. Can I interview you, sir?" Mark walks back in and sits on the table, across from them.

"If you mean Kropotkin, they're not a sir. If you mean me, yes."

"We, uh, have here that Kropotkin is a man."

"You have it wrong, Kropotkin is genderless, genders are a spook. Kropotkin is also a mute, so I'll be glad to answer questions for you."

"Okay. First, why the secrecy?" Kropotkin scribbles something on a notepad and hands it to Mark.

"The secrecy is because we should learn to separate identities from the artist, and the good deeds one does. If Kropotkin shows their face, then they'll always be scrutinised for their identity, and it'll take away from the actions." Mark passes the notepad back.

"Uh, ok I guess. What deeds are you doing?" More scribbling and the notepad is passed back.

"We're working with Dream Defenders, and a local group of AntiFa socialists that Kropotkin has connections with to distribute needed supplies, and help to clean up the area down there. We are, of course, offering aid to racists and white supremacists, but that aid comes in the form of a brick to the mouth." The notepad is passed back to Kropotkin.

"Um, how does a brick to the mouth help the racists and white supremacists?" Once again the scribbling and passing.

"It doesn't help them. It helps the community at large. We. Make. Racists. Afraid. Again."

"What about the looters?"

"They're only looting because capitalism has screwed them over, and put them in this situation. Capitalism created the greenhouse gasses and climate change, it created the weather deniers, and permitted them to continue their war on the working class, and our environment. Capitalism has kept people from their base needs, and allowed the festering wound that is class division to prosper. The people who are looting, they are lower class individuals, who have been denied their share of things, and been tethered to the area of the storm by the leash of inequality. Rising costs of fuel and transportation, on top of jobs refusing to allow employees to leave without threatening their livelihood. All of this, of course is perfectly legal and encouraged in this system. Thus the looters are reacting in anger to a broken system, and we should work less to demonise them than we do to demonise the system that created that. The system is broken, and needs to be fixed."

"Uh, um. I'm not sure what to say to that. I guess I should go."

"Ok, farewell." Steve gets to his feet and stumbles out of the RV.

"See how fun it is when they can't talk in interviews." Sasha's voice floats in from the back of the RV.

[Image: spotlights-on-a-brick-wall-black-860x645.jpg]
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 The Engineer  (09-12-2017)
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