💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › magazines › UXU › uxu-244.txt captured on 2022-06-12 at 15:07:05.
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Underground eXperts United
Presents...
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[ The New World Order ] [ By The GNN ]
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"THE NEW WORLD ORDER"
by THE GNN/DualCrew-Shining/uXu
"Hacking is the concrete method of creating the new world order."
('No More Secrets')
I. FINAL ASSAULT
'fiat justitia, ruat coelum'
"We fight a war against the unholy. Against those who don't believe in
the free world, the dream, the life. I am proud to participate in this
war. It is a question about good and evil, right or wrong - and we are the
good and the right!"
Colonel Klaage knew how to put the words properly. He was a stocky man
with army clothes, power shined in his eyes. Unfortunately, he was not
screaming the words to his animal-like hard boiled soldiers but to a
street-smart journalist from Seventh Heaven News.
"Sounds nice. But hey - what does it mean?" the female journalist
asked.
Colonel Klaage sucked on his fat cigar. He exhaled a thick white cloud
and answered: "It's so simple that even you outta understand that."
"I see."
"I doubt that."
The tank rumbled over a deep depression in the ground and sent the two
of them flying around in the tight space.
"Fuck!" Klaage screamed and turned to the driver. "Watch it, shithead!"
The green display on the dashboard commented: "Six Four Five, you are
driving in heavy terrain. Would you like to set your NRAMs?"
The driver neither answered the display nor Klaage. The intermezzo was
over. Colonel Klaage turned to the impressively calm journalist.
"We are close to the battle area. Things may get pretty fucking hot
around us." he said, almost yelling the words 'pretty' and 'fucking'.
The journalist nodded and smiled.
"I am used to it. I was in Iraq..."
"... and the Gulf war was ten years ago, and a damn PLAYGROUND compared
to this!"
The journalist hesitated with her mouth open. Colonel Klaage had been
quite a nice guy when she met him the first time. Now, he was probably
filled to the limit with adrenaline. Close to a battle area there
obviously was no more Mr Nice Guy, she pondered.
It took several minutes before she dared to speak again.
"Who are we fighting against, Colonel?"
"The enemy."
"Who are the enemy in this case?"
A short moment of silence.
"Listen honey, we live in a modern society. Machines tell us who the
enemy are, but that does not mean that the machines choose our enemies.
There are humans behind every machine, every computer, every decision."
"Yes?"
"We have been told to go to point 15. By machines."
"By machines... but what do you expect to find when we'll reach this
point fifty place?"
"The enemy."
"But who..."
The colonel swung around his head, the cigar almost fell out off his
mouth, and stared into her eyes.
"Too many shitty questions!" he screamed. "Too many!"
Silence.
Then, suddenly, everything turned black. The sound from the tank's
engine disappeared. The display slowly faded away.
"What... is going ON here?" Colonel Klaage screamed in the darkness.
The only visible light, the cigar, moved back and forth.
A loud gasp could be heard from the driver. "I have no idea. I guess
we have some kind of power failure."
"Impossible!" Klaage screamed, this time even louder. "This is a XC100
tank, constructed and built in the fucking free world, and there is NO
FUCKING WAY IT..."
The display came to life.
digitialanarchydigitalanarchyd
"What was that?" the journalist asked.
digitialanarchydigitalanarchyd
"Look!" she yelled and pointed at the display.
There was no information about the tank on the display. Nothing
concerning the speed, nothing that told them where they were. There was
just two simple words - 'digital anarchy'.
"We have been fooled!" Colonel Klaage screamed, sounding unusually
hysterical. The cigar fell out of his mouth.
"By who?"
"The enemy! The enemy!"
The journalist felt confused: "But WHO are the enemy in this case?"
Silence. The journalist thought she heard Colonel Klaage sob.
anarchydigitalanarchydigitalan
II. DIGITAL ANARCHY
'pacta sunt servanda'
Cola bottles (empty), packets of cigarettes (empty), beer cans (empty),
David Owen (or perhaps better known as Phinal Force) himself, and in front
of him - a personal computer, connected to the telephone line.
That was all there was in his small apartment. Since he refused to be
called a computer freak in public, he never went outside.
Sure, David was a computer freak. But he did not really mind that. He
was about to become famous. On the monitor in front of his smiling face
there were only two words, but they were sure enough.
He calculated that the long-awaited revolution would arise in the next
twelve hours. By then people should be aware of the unstable situation.
Of course, nobody would know that he had created it. Not yet.
But right now it was time to make a few phone calls. People waited. He
would not let them down.
III. THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME
'alea jacta est'
When Onkel drove his fifty-gallon truck through the streets, never
thinking about using the brake nor transmission, I was ready to die. Old
Onkel was not really a good driver due to his unability to use his right
arm ("a darn bullet from some rebel!"), and due to the fact that he enjoyed
to gulp down a few beers before he even thought about entering the truck.
"I tell ya this young boy", he said to me with his broken voice. "One
got to stay close to death to really live."
I nodded, even tough I did not really agree this very minute.
"... and, if ya experience the Real Life, you will never worry about
Real Death. Because death will come to ya sooner or later, but ya don't
really care, 'cause you have experienced the Real Life. Get it?"
"Sure."
"Nah, ya don't get it." he mumbled and wiped away a few drips of saliva
out of his filthy grey beard.
We rumbled past the City Hall, beggars and robbers constantly screaming
at us to stop. Dirty, ugly and lethal individuals everywhere. Sad sight.
I put two rounds into my shotgun, but Onkel placed his hand over mine.
"Never mind," he said. "These people are not the ones ya ought to waste
your ammo on... save it for the ones who deserve it. Do not shoot the
victims, go for the killers."
I placed the double-piped gun on the floor. Out of my holster, I drew
my pistol.
"Didn't I tell ya to..." Onkel began.
"Just checking."
The truck took a little leap when we drove over a large piece of metal.
It was probably some unknown device belonging to some wrecked car, perhaps
destroyed by a bomb or by some unidentified member of the Crazed
Rebellions. The city was packed with trash, surrounded by shabby buildings
and grey concrete ruins.
Onkel knew how to avoid the mine fields when driving. That made me feel
a little bit secure. 'Tourists' and hungry criminals, however, usually did
not know. Therefor, the city was packed with dead bodies too.
"How did it become like this?" I asked and fumbled for my cigarettes.
I knew the answer already, but Onkel loved to talk about it.
"Oh, it was... uh... back in da 'ol days. Perhaps... fifty years
ago. The beginning of this century. Some kids with expensive equipment
examined the possibilities of changing the world with their knowledge."
A loud bang was heard. Someone fired. Onkel pretended as he did not
hear it.
"... believed in a new world order. They thought that a new society
would arise from digital anarchy. Their attack fooled everyone, including
the top, ya know. Shit..."
"Amazing..."
"Kinda. But you can't have one without the other. They crushed the
system, but the result turned out to become something completely different.
Without a God, there is no moral. Without a system, there was no more
rules. People did not thank them, instead chaos began ruling."
I looked at the city of trash. I studied the people of no hope.
"They played the most dangerous game."
"They sure did. Nothing to do 'bout it now. No remorse."
And the truck just kept on rolling.
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Note: 'Digital Anarchy' is not an expression invented by me.
I found it when I studied the uXu dist site BBS list.
Somehow, it inspired me to write this small file.
Call Digital Anarchy - [703]-758-0950. Sysop: Erudite.
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Why not check another excellent electronic zine?
Check this out: ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU pub/Zines/Mindwarp
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Sex Machine.
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uXu #244 Underground eXperts United 1995 uXu #244
Call GOAT BLOWERS ANONYMOUS -> +1-215-750-0392
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