The Conspirators

Quinn: Madness, pure madness.

I let the phone ring until it went to voice mail in which my message was simply this:

“You know who you reached and I know you are tracing this line STOP before it is too late to save your souls”

And then I threw the phone off the freeway overpass. It was a judgment message to a vile type of human. It’s the seventh time. With seven different numbers and seven different voice mail messages thrown off seven different locations along the Neon City freeways.

Maybe tonight I could get some sleep I thought, but that was an understatement considering how valuable the information I had was to the ones that were pursuing me and the lengths they were willing to go to.. to get this information I had. I knew this ruse wouldn’t last forever.

Cover-ups, blackmail, extortion, or maybe the usual suicide. I was playing a dangerous chess game with the most corrupt people on the planet. I assumed my death would be accidental. Just a premonition. I set up five safe houses at a time, each stocked with enough cash and material to last until I switched locations. I knew eventually these safe houses would be found by these madmen that were chasing me. So I developed a system of rotation. Always switching my resting spot. Time was the key to my survival, but it was getting tougher to cope because I knew they were working in constant shifts.

I was one man against a multitude of departments organized of yes men. I had to stay the course.

The information I had would bring centralized powers in the medical field to their knees if the people only knew… that in the documented history of this information which is classified. The major viruses, cancers, and diseases of the world were all created by men in labs testing biological warfare weapons to be used for economic gain, de-populations, and wars against rival powers on this earth. What was their overall goal…

Blinded by the light of the Neon City. I was a software engineer that created an advanced anti-virus for computer systems to stop the infiltration of unwanted security breaches on personal information.

I sold my company and patents as soon as the ones that shall not be named started using this technology themselves for nefarious reasons under the guise of protecting the civil liberties of their countries.

What I created was just the tip of the iceberg, the increasing manipulative grip of control they kept persistently acquiring, slowly squeezing these herds of cattle into smaller and smaller pens. Tagged and ready for processing. I wasn’t ready to be processed yet. An influencer, inventor, a man set out to better my species in the pursuit of happiness or was that just the keywords in a college thesis underscored by his professor… I wondered.

I was meeting with a man that could get me to an undisclosed region in South America. He was the only man I trusted. He was off their radar with him being an illegal immigrant. Code name Marco, hence I was Polo. I couldn’t leave by commercial transportation unless I got facial reconstruction done but most specialists that took on that big of a procedure were already tracked. Marco was what I called a spotter, a key in my mobility to get to and from.

I was always one step ahead of them. The one thing they knew was I haven’t released the information to the world yet because I haven’t created a fail-safe method to do so. I couldn’t build a distribution hive here in Neon City because I was constantly moving. I needed to get to South America. Off the grid.

The information… if I released it would be countered by popular labels such as conspiracy theorists or hack and the latest and more up-to-date fake news story. The thing is, yeah it’s been posted before by others to no avail but my information came with the cures.

And that’s what they didn’t want to get released. I couldn’t distribute online through the corporatized channels anyways they would just track it and shut it down before it could see the next day’s analytics.

I had to create a channel this information could be distributed without being tracked or censored. I was in a city that was all about gambling…

I should have taken the retirement plan and been quite like they advised me with their disclosure agreement. Mainly a bullet to the head but something inside said let the money ride instead of taking the money and run.

You only can be up for so long before you put it all on black and it lands on red comes up. A color I knew too well.

I set up a very encoded way to communicate with Marco weekly by a lettering, number coding system I created. In which, I would leave cryptic messages on certain bulletin boards of the apartment complex’s laundry facilities. Mixed in with the usual paper flyers for things for sale, upcoming community events, or the usually lost dog poster printout. How Marco found these apartment complexes was challenging and took some groundwork to figure out but fell along the lines of certain landscaping companies that maintain these apartment complexes which I would use as a calling card or a signal for delivering my encoded messages to Marco.

How Marco accessed the laundry facilities was his deal. I took care of him well for his sacrifice and he was as quiet as a mouse and as loyal as a Labrador.

I was fortunate enough to have run into Marco on a vacation. I call it a reflection vacation because I knew when I came back I would be downloading the information that was classified and leaving Silicon Valley for the Neon City.

Playa Norte was beautifully hot and refreshing. It was one of the few places I ever got to see so far in my life. I began to reflect on the future and the past while sipping a perfectly made margarita watching the waves hit the silky sandy shores of the beach I was at. I knew and most people have known deep inside their conscience that we were never fully in control of our lives as rules and regulations were implemented through the ever-expanding history of our species to better the outcome of the communities we lived in, but to what extent of enforcement can you take it to when you get to a solid guideline of right and wrong?

Maybe it was all the questions I had as a kid that gave direction to the field of work I chose. Still, those same questions I had as a kid lurked as an adult, always these murky answers by a misinformed populace accepting the elected official’s narratives.

Mommy, why are there people sleeping on the streets? Daddy, how come you are not on TV being awarded for helping sick people all the time? Mommy, why does Jason have to go to Afghanistan? Daddy why can’t I… Mommy how come… etc.

My parents gave the typical broad answers to my curious questions as any protective parent would. I knew the truth would be harder to grasp as I got older and my nonstop research would uncover the horrors of men that have lived before me that gave way to a system of control to be developed and accepted as normal.

I was eating at a Mexican steakhouse in a local part of town when I met Marco. Well, it wasn’t exactly planned. I had just gotten my salad when I heard a man starting to choke behind me and the bang of a chair tipping over as if someone quickly got up in a panic. I turned around and there was a man, Marco choking on something. I quickly jumped up and gave him the Heimlich maneuver and after three tries a big piece of meat came hurling out his mouth.

As he inhaled air and bent over, the lady he was with rushed to me and thanked me as if I was some kind of hero in Spanish. I nodded my head as a round of applause began in the restaurant as a shouted out

“It’s ok everything is alright no need for panic” Marco, after regaining his composure, then asked me to join him at his table as these words were spoken in broken English but decent enough to understand.

I said why not. He thanked me repeatedly during our awkward but basic conversation. He invited me to join him at a local watering hole for drinks as we were finishing our meals. I kindly accepted. The woman he was with did not join us.

We got to a local bar and began drinking, having laughs as we did these strong tequila shots shouting out something in Spanish before the courage of slamming the shot was swallowed.

As the drinks became more excessive so did our intoxication and of course, I figured why not tell this man I will probably never see again, the overwhelming decision I was about to make. And as I told him all that I knew and what I was about to do like some crazy man giving the secrets of these powerful organizations, Marco’s friendly hospitality turned to a serious state of concern and silence. I wondered if he understood what I was telling him… with me being drunk was I even telling it correctly?

Marco took one last shot, patted me on the back, and then excused himself from the bar we were at and disappeared. I was confused and really drunk so I just played it off as the information he just heard was just some drunken ramble and that he probably didn’t want to hear it so I took one last shot and stumbled back to my hotel and passed out.

I woke up the next day with a massive hangover and knew the only way I could get my brain functioning again was with a hot cup of coffee from the small boutique shop downstairs. I was getting off the elevator and I saw Marco sitting in the coffee shop through the window that I was making my way to.

I thought I was hallucinating. As I approached closer to his table he got up and left, leaving some sort of book he was reading there. I made it to his table and went to grab his book to catch him and give it back to him. I looked down to grab it and there was a note taped to the front that said: “Don’t follow me just take the book and open it in your room.” It was a strange note as the words were in broken English but I got the hint.

I didn’t order a coffee as paranoia swelled my throat. I instantly looked around the coffee house to the hotel lobby and there was nobody of notice who looked suspicious. I proceeded to my hotel room. As I got to the elevator I went to open it but quickly restricted myself as I saw a camera up in the corner.

That was the first realization that I would have to be aware of my surroundings at all times. I speeded to my room and opened the book like a kid opening a Christmas present. The cover of the book was hardback so I was expecting a novel of some kind but it was of a diary type of book as the first 20 pages or so were blank but the middle was full of words and of course they were in Spanish.

I needed to translate this. It would probably take me all night as there were about forty pages of writing to get through. A feeling of anxiety and curiosity started to give me an adrenalin rush as if this reflection vacation I took was the beginning stages of change my life would take.

It was a convincing factor, especially after I translated the first sentence written by Marco in this book. It read…