💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › magazines › UXU › uxu-212.txt captured on 2022-06-12 at 15:05:59.
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Underground eXperts United
Presents...
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[ Population X ] [ By The GNN ]
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
"POPULATION X"
by THE GNN/DualCrew-Shining/uXu
Right. So I thought that this day could not possible get any worse. But
naturally it would soon turn out that I was wrong again. I had to run to
my car this morning because of a hellish rain that poured down over the
city as if it tried to wipe it out. When I finally managed to start the
damn thing I naturally drove over my daughters bicycle that was by some
weird reason parked behind the car. The highway was nothing more than a
great snake of cars that kept on honking at each other. When I finally got
to work, had said hello to my secretary in the lobby, unlocked the door to
my office (it is always locked for security reasons, even if the secretary
is sitting next to it) and stepped in I saw that someone had written
WE DEMAND OUR RIGHTS!
...with thick red letters all over the wall on my left.
I immediately called for my secretary.
"Mrs Johnson, please come into my office! Now!"
I saw her rise from her brown desk, take three steps over the blue carpet
and into my office. She turned to me ans said: "What can I..."
Then she saw the text on the wall.
"Oh!"
I placed my hat and briefcase on the visitors sofa, before I went to my
mini-bar and gave myself a huge glass of fine whiskey. I swallowed half of
the strong substance at once.
"I have had a bad morning, mrs Johnson." I mumbled. "And I don't fancy
any practical jokes right now. What the hell is this?"
She stroke her blonde hair and looked quite confused.
"I actually don't know sir." she said.
"Oh, please mrs Johnson..."
"I don't know!"
She talked to me in a way the revealed that she really did not know. I
calmed down. Then I noticed that today's mail was placed on my desk.
I pointed at the mountain of envelopes.
"When did you leave the mail here today?", I asked her even if I almost
knew the answer.
"Fifteen minutes ago."
"And you didn't see this... terrorist attack?"
"No! I swear!"
I walked with the glass in my hand to the window. From the tenth floor,
I had quite a nice view over the wet city. The rain drummed against the
window, bang bang bang. I sighed.
"Thanks, mrs Johnson. That will be all." I said and she left the room,
closing the door behind her.
Right now, I hated the rain, I hated the city and I definitely hated to
be a mayor in it. In my job I had to complain and hear complaints. No one
ever told me if something was alright. No, I was supposed to fix things in
this small world of concrete without expecting one single thanks. Now some
madmen demanded their rights. What rights? The right to break into my
office and destroy my wall paper?
I turned around and found my soft chair. I sank down on it and took
another sip of my whiskey. I watched the letters on the wall and saw that
someone had written:
WE DEMAND OUR RIGHTS!
WE WANT OUR FREEDOM AND HUMAN RIGHTS!
... when I had looked away.
"Damn!" I screamed and dropped my glass. I jumped from the chair up on
my desk and looked around.
"Okay, you little son of a bitch! I should have guessed that you are
here since my secretary noticed that nothing had been written when she left
me my mail! Where are you? Vandal!"
Nothing happened. I tried to figure out where the joker had hidden
himself in my room but it was hard. There was almost no place to hide.
The only place I could think of was the little closet below the mini-bar,
where I stashed my issues of Playboy. I climbed down from the desk, got my
little .38 revolver out of my briefcase and headed for the bar.
With the gun in my hand, I opened the closet. No one there.
"Asshole!" I yelled. "Who are you?"
When I turned around I saw;
WE DEMAND OUR RIGHTS!
WE WANT OUR FREEDOM AND HUMAN RIGHTS!
YOU CAN CALL US POPULATION X.
I violently opened the door to the lobby. My secretary just stared at me
with her mouth open when she saw me standing there. I do not blame her, I
might have looked rather terrifying with a gun in my hand below my white
face.
"Mrs Johnson! In my office! Now! Now! Now!"
I marched into my office again and she followed me.
"Look!" I screamed.
She looked at the message on the wall. Then she smiled, patted me on my
shoulder and went back to her desk.
"Should I call your doctor?" she asked me with a caring voice.
"I have not written this!" I growled and slammed the door shut. Then I
opened it again and said "... and do not call my lousy doctor! I am not
ill, hence I do not need his amateur opinion!"
I heard a faint "Okay boss" before I closed the door. I went to the wall
with the letters and examined them from a close distance. I noticed that
the letters were not dry and did not smell like paint usually do. I put my
finger on a 'C' and got a drop on my finger. I placed the drop on my
tongue and tasted it. It was blood.
This was too much even for me.
"Who are you who dares to break into my office, write crap on my wall
(with blood - are you a killer or do you simply work at a slaughter house?)
and demand you so-called rights? Bastard!" I screamed.
From the corner of my eye I saw something move. I turned around fast,
just in time to see my telephone fly over the room against me. I ducked
and the phone crashed into the wall above me.
When I looked up, I could see
WE DEMAND OUR RIGHTS!
WE WANT OUR FREEDOM AND HUMAN RIGHTS!
YOU CAN CALL US POPULATION X.
DO NOT CALL ME A BASTARD!
"Sorry." I mumbled despise the fact that I was in a rage. I did not want
this who-ever-he-was to break any more of my precious things. I walked to
the mini-bar and got myself another drink. The liquid burned my throat but
it felt good anyway.
WE DEMAND OUR RIGHTS!
WE WANT OUR FREEDOM AND HUMAN RIGHTS!
YOU CAN CALL US POPULATION X.
DO NOT CALL ME A BASTARD!
WE ARE TIRED OF BEING TREATED AS NON-EXISTING INDIVIDUALS.
YOU WILL HEAR MORE FROM US!
I sighed. Then I sighed again before I picked up my phone and
re-connected it to the socket. I sat down on my chair and sighed again.
Before the letters suddenly disappeared from the wall as if they had never
existed I saw the last line of the message.
YOURS, EARL WALZNER (1897-1974)
I rotated my chair and looked out through the window again. The wet city
had suddenly gotten itself another freedom-thirsty crowd of people, I
concluded and I hated my work even more.
I knew that not only this day, but the following years would become very
though for me as a mayor. I thought about suicide for a second, but
quickly dropped the idea since the last people I would like to join right
now was population X.
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It is back! The myth returns!
We cannot be stopped! CALL GURUS DREAM +46-8-282760
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Diamonds on my windshield.
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uXu #212 Underground eXperts United 1994 uXu #212
Call ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT -> +31-77-547477
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