Anarchist: Volume 10 - The Shibboleth

A book such as this - for a time in America such as this. The fabric of the country is unraveling. It is clear that something has changed. There will be losses immeasurable and casualties - many casualties. What we had appears to be gone forever. What’s needed is a master weaver to splice it back together again. It has to be different, though – not the same. Without change we will end up with the same thing that we have right now. Not the same, worse. Much worse. My name is Adam Carter, and mine was an ordinary childhood really, ordinary enough for me at least. Summers at the beach, the oldest in a family of boys – a leader in small ways at first, then more and better ways as time went by. I don’t remember much about the boy that tried to pull me inside his house after school. I refused of course. I knew that it was forbidden, but I never told my mother or dad about it either.The vision came at an early age - not once, but twice. By high school, I knew that my life was set apart for something very special. I had no way of knowing for sure. By the time I entered college, I had developed a peculiar immunity to abuse. I loved the grit and grind of the military school. I was adored, almost worshiped at times because of the fight after the hockey match. They are still talking about it - the administration too, not just the students. I am fully aware that the adoration continues not because of the events of the past – but because of the more recent events leading up to the present. Were it not for my exemplary record for military service, my popularity as a speaker for national conferences, and my track record in the corporate world, I might have faded into the crowd – just one of many millions.As it is I have been called into service. A peculiar service no doubt, but one that I find impossible to resist. I have been presented information that has been prepared just for me - to recruit me and to entice me to complete a calling that I have been prepared for since my early years. Some say since the beginning of time. Some will call me ‘Anarchist’.The fabric of the country is unraveling. It is clear that something had changed. There will be losses immeasurable and casualties - many casualties. What we had appears to be gone forever. What’s needed is a master weaver to splice it back together again. It has to be different, though – not the same. Without change we will end up with the same thing that we have right now. Not the same, worse. Much worse. Corporate executives and directors of human resource departments are being offered bounties for big game – husbands and fathers who have been in the work force thirty to forty years or more; soldiers just returned from the front lines; or women – single or married who don’t bring the right ‘attitude’ to work every day. Bounties too, for managers of all races, religions, colors, or creeds who fail to get proper results for the senior executives; managers who fail to do ‘whatever it takes’; and managers who put archaic principles of right and wrong in the forefront. The game is simple enough and it is played with reckless abandon – the ruling class had, after all, provided ample excuses for any executive needing to defend his or her policies. The goal is to shovel as much of the taxpayer’s money as possible into corporate coffers, the game is not to get caught, and the sport is to see who could accumulate the most ‘skins’ – trophies – careers of fellow employees who had built strong companies – and whose careers, lives, families, homes, and marriages were now on the cutting room floor – collateral damage – ‘skins’. What the brutal axe-men and women don’t realize – are not taking the time to ponder - is that they are next. History is repeating itself. Read more