FRATE PETI
1. Scola · 2. Esplode · 3. Aresta · 4. Prison · 5. Paranoia · 6. Rede X · 7. Spleno-Porco · 8. Paradox · 9. Furgon · 10. Claves · 11. Slogan
12. Conserta · 13. Jornales · 14. Bitnic · 15. Enrolada · 16. Reportor · 17. Tuneli · 18. Juas · 19. Vampires · 20. Tortura · 21. Judi · Epiloga

Epiloga

Barbara ia telefoni a me en la ofisia en la finisemana de 4 julio. Me no ia es la sola ci ia veni per labora en acel finisemana festal, ma me ia es la sola de ci sua escusa ia es ce mea scema de libria dial no permete ce me parti de la urbe.

Barbara called me at the office on July 4th weekend. I wasn’t the only one who’d come into work on the holiday weekend, but I was the only one whose excuse was that my day-release program wouldn’t let me leave town.

Ultima, on ia condena me per la fura de la telefon de Masha. Tu pote crede lo? La acusores ia fa un acorda con mea avocato per dejeta tota acusas pertinente a “terorisme eletronical” e “provoca de tumultas” par un intercambia si me ta confesa culpablia sur la acusa de fura minor. Me ia reseta tre menses en un scema de libria dial a un sentro de reajusta per ofendores joven en la Mision. Me ia dormi en la sentro de reajusta, compartinte un dormeria con un colie de criminores vera, xices de gang e xices drogamanica, un o du persones multe loco. En la dia, me ia es “libre” per sorti e labora a mea “posto”.

In the end, they convicted me of stealing Masha’s phone. Can you believe that? The prosecution had done a deal with my lawyer to drop all charges related to “Electronic terrorism” and “inciting riots” in exchange for my pleading guilty to the misdemeanor petty theft charge. I got three months in a day-release program with a half-way house for juvenile offenders in the Mission. I slept at the halfway house, sharing a dorm with a bunch of actual criminals, gang kids and druggie kids, a couple of real nuts. During the day, I was “free” to go out and work at my “job.”

“Marcus, on relasa el.” – el ia dise.

“Marcus, they’re letting her go,” she said.

“Ci?”

“Who?”

“Johnstone, Carrie Johnstone.” – el ia dise. “La corte militar privata ia desacusa el de tota malcondui. La caso es selida. El revade a labora ativa. On envia el a Irac.”

“Johnstone, Carrie Johnstone,” she said. “The closed military tribunal cleared her of any wrongdoing. The file is sealed. She’s being returned to active duty. They’re sending her to Iraq.”

Carrie Johnstone ia es la nom de Fem de Capeles Sever. Lo ia emerje en la escutas inisial a la Corte Superior de California, ma esta ia es cuasi tota cual ia emerje. El ia refusa revela de ci el reseta comandas, cua el ia fa, ci ia es prisonida e perce. El ia fa no plu ca senta, perfeta silente, tra dia pos dia, en la corte.

Carrie Johnstone was Severe Haircut Woman’s name. It came out in the preliminary hearings at the California Superior Court, but that was just about all that came out. She wouldn’t say a word about who she took orders from, what she’d done, who had been imprisoned and why. She just sat, perfectly silent, day after day, in the courthouse.

La autoriosas federal, entretempo, ia protesta criante sur la clui “uniladal, nonlegal” de la compleso sur Isola Tesoro par la Governor, e sur la espulsa de San Francisco de polisiores federal par la Maior. Multe de esta polisiores ia fini en prisones de stato, como ance la gardores de Guantanamo de la Baia.

The Feds, meanwhile, had blustered and shouted about the Governor’s “unilateral, illegal” shut-down of the Treasure Island facility, and the Mayor’s eviction of fed cops from San Francisco. A lot of those cops had ended up in state prisons, along with the guards from Gitmo-by-the-Bay.

E alora, a un dia, no declara ia veni de la Casa Blanca, no cosa de la capitolio de la stato. E a la dia seguente, un confere jornaliste, seca, tensada e juntada, ia aveni sur la grados ante la cason de la Governor, do la xef de Securia Interna e la Governor ia anunsia sua “acorda”.

Then, one day, there was no statement from the White House, nothing from the state capitol. And the next day, there was a dry, tense press-conference held jointly on the steps of the Governor’s mansion, where the head of the DHS and the governor announced their “understanding.”

Securia Interna va reali un corte militar privata per investiga “eras de judi cisa fada” pos la ataca contra la Ponte Baia. La corte va usa cada metodo disponable per serti ce atas criminal va es conveninte punida. Par intercambia, la controla de operas de Securia Interna en California va pasa tra la Senato de Stato, cual va ave la autoria de clui, esamina o reordina tota securia interna en la stato.

The DHS would hold a closed, military tribunal to investigate “possible errors in judgment” committed after the attack on the Bay Bridge. The tribunal would use every tool at its disposal to ensure that criminal acts were properly punished. In return, control over DHS operations in California would go through the State Senate, which would have the power to shut down, inspect, or re-prioritize all homeland security in the state.

La ruji de la reportores ia es sordinte, e Barbara ia fa la demanda prima. “Sr Governor, con tota respeta meritada: nos ave atestas video nondisputable ce Marcus Yallow, un sitadan de esta stato, asi naseda, ia sufri un esecuta similida par ofisiores de Securia Interna, ci ia ata parente su comandas de la Casa Blanca. Esce vera la stato vole abandona tota finje de justia per sua sitadanes en un situa de tortura nonlegal e barbar?” Sua vose ia trema, ma no ia rompe.

The roar of the reporters had been deafening and Barbara had gotten the first question in. “Mr Governor, with all due respect: we have incontrovertible video evidence that Marcus Yallow, a citizen of this state, native born, was subjected to a simulated execution by DHS officers, apparently acting on orders from the White House. Is the State really willing to abandon any pretense of justice for its citizens in the face of illegal, barbaric torture?” Her voice trembled, but didn’t crack.

La Governor ia estende sua manos. “La cortes militar va reali justia. Si Sr Yallow – o cualce otra person ci ave un motiva per critica la Departe de Securia Interna – desira plu justia, el ave natural la direto de litiga per tal compensa cual es cisa detada a el par la governa federal.”

The Governor spread his hands. “The military tribunals will accomplish justice. If Mr Yallow – or any other person who has cause to fault the Department of Homeland Security – wants further justice, he is, of course, entitled to sue for such damages as may be owing to him from the federal government.”

E acel ia es lo cual me ia fa. Plu ca dudes mil prosedes legal ia es inisiada contra Securia Interna pos la anunsia par la Governor. La mea ia es manejada par la Uni Esuan per Librias Sivil, ci ia fa solisitas ofisial per oteni la resultas de la cortes militar privata. Asta aora, la cortes sivil ia es bon simpatiosa con lo.

That’s what I was doing. Over twenty thousand civil lawsuits were filed against the DHS in the week after the Governor’s announcement. Mine was being handled by the ACLU, and they’d filed motions to get at the results of the closed military tribunals. So far, the courts were pretty sympathetic to this.

Ma me no ia espeta esta.

But I hadn’t expected this.

“El ia evade sin an un pico de puni?”

“She got off totally Scot-free?”

“La comunica jornaliste no dise multe. ‘Pos un esamina profonda de la avenis en San Francisco e en la deteneria spesial antiteroriste sur Isola Tesoro, lo es la judi de esta corte ce la atas de Sra Johnstone no merita plu disiplina.’ Acel parola ‘plu’ – lo sujesta ce on ia puni ja el.”

“The press release doesn’t say much. ‘After a thorough examination of the events in San Francisco and in the special anti-terror detention center on Treasure Island, it is the finding of this tribunal that Ms Johnstone’s actions do not warrant further discipline.’ There’s that word, ‘further’ – like they’ve already punished her.”

Me ia ensofla. Me ia sonia Carrie Johnstone en cuasi cada note pos mea relasa de Guantanamo de la Baia. Me ia vide sua fas menasante supra la mea, acel peti surie bruta cuando el ia comanda ce on dona a me un “bevi”.

I snorted. I’d dreamed of Carrie Johnstone nearly every night since I was released from Gitmo-by-the-Bay. I’d seen her face looming over mine, that little snarly smile as she told the man to give me a “drink.”

“Marcus —” – Barbara ia dise, ma me ia interompe el.

“Marcus –” Barbara said, but I cut her off.

“Lo es bon. Lo es bon. Me va prepara un video sur esta. Va publici lo en la finisemana. Lundis es dias major per videos virusin. Cadun va reveni de la finisemana festal, xercante alga cosa comica per distribui tra la scola o la ofisia.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine. I’m going to do a video about this. Get it out over the weekend. Mondays are big days for viral video. Everyone’ll be coming back from the holiday weekend, looking for something funny to forward around school or the office.”

Me ia vide un psicoterapiste a du veses per semana como un parte de mea acorda a la sentro de reajusta. Cuando me ia sesa regarda esta como un spesie de puni, lo ia vade bon. El ia aida me a foca a atas creosa cuando me ia es angusada, en loca de lasa ce la senti devora me. La videos ia aida.

I saw a shrink twice a week as part of my deal at the halfway house. Once I’d gotten over seeing that as some kind of punishment, it had been good. He’d helped me focus on doing constructive things when I was upset, instead of letting it eat me up. The videos helped.

“Me debe vade.” – me ia dise, forte engolinte per esclui la emosia de mea vose.

“I have to go,” I said, swallowing hard to keep the emotion out of my voice.

“Bon cura, Marcus.” – Barbara ia dise.

“Take care of yourself, Marcus,” Barbara said.

Anj ia abrasa me de pos en cuando me ia repone la telefon. “Me veni de leje sur lo, enlinia.” – el ia dise. El ia leje milion flues de novas, descargante los par un lejador de titulos cual suca reportas a la mesma rapidia como on publici los. El ia es nosa blogor ofisial, e el ia fa bon la posto, estraente la reportas interesante e ponente los a la rede como un cosinor rapida ci reali comandas per come de matina.

Ange hugged me from behind as I hung up the phone. “I just read about it online,” she said. She read a million newsfeeds, pulling them with a headline reader that sucked up stories as fast as they ended up on the wire. She was our official blogger, and she was good at it, snipping out the interesting stories and throwing them online like a short order cook turning around breakfast orders.

Me ia turna en sua brasos, tal ce me ia abrasa el de ante. Franca, nos no ia fa multe labora en acel dia. On no ia permete ce me es estra la sentro de reajusta pos la ora de come de sera, e el no ia pote visita me ala. Nos ia vide nos en la ofisia, ma on ia ave usual multe otra persones ala, un spesie de ostaculo per nosa abrasas. Un dia pasada en la ofisia con sola lunlotra ia es un tenta tro grande. La aira ia es calda e umida, ance, donce ambos de nos ia es en camisetas e pantalas, con multe de contata de pel con ce nos ia labora a lado de lunlotra.

I turned around in her arms so that I was hugging her from in front. Truth be told, we hadn’t gotten a lot of work done that day. I wasn’t allowed to be out of the halfway house after dinner time, and she couldn’t visit me there. We saw each other around the office, but there were usually a lot of other people around, which kind of put a crimp in our cuddling. Being alone in the office for a day was too much temptation. It was hot and sultry, too, which meant we were both in tank-tops and shorts, a lot of skin-to-skin contact as we worked next to each other.

“Me va prepara un video.” – me ia dise. “Me vole publici lo oji.”

“I’m going to make a video,” I said. “I want to release it today.”

“Bon.” – el ia dise. “Ta ce nos fa.”

“Good,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

Anj ia leje la comunica jornaliste. Me ia fa un monologa peti, sincronida con acel metraje famosa de me sur la plance de acua, con oios savaje en la lus sever de la camera, larmas fluente sur mea fas, capeles maraniada e manxetada par vomita.

Ange read the press-release. I did a little monologue, synched over that famous footage of me on the water-board, eyes wild in the harsh light of the camera, tears streaming down my face, hair matted and flecked with barf.

“Esta es me. Me es sur un plance de acua. Me es torturada en un esecuta similida. La tortura es supravideda par un fem nomida Carrie Johnstone. El labora per la governa. Cisa tu recorda el de esta video.”

“This is me. I am on a waterboard. I am being tortured in a simulated execution. The torture is supervised by a woman called Carrie Johnstone. She works for the government. You might remember her from this video.”

Me ia inserta la video de Johnstone e Kurt Rooney. “Esta es Johnstone e Secretor de Stato Kurt Rooney, la stratejiste xef de la Presidente.”

I cut in the video of Johnstone and Kurt Rooney. “That’s Johnstone and Secretary of State Kurt Rooney, the president’s chief strategist.”

“La nasion no ama acel site. Longo sua opina, lo es un Sodom e Gomora de ges e ateistes ci merita putri en enferno. La sola razona perce la pais es interesada sur cua on pensa en San Francisco es ce on ia ave ala la bon fortuna de es esplodeda asta enferno par alga teroristes islamiste.”

“The nation does not love that city. As far as they’re concerned, it is a Sodom and Gomorrah of fags and atheists who deserve to rot in hell. The only reason the country cares what they think in San Francisco is that they had the good fortune to have been blown to hell by some Islamic terrorists.”

“El parla sur la site do me abita. Par la conta la plu resente, 4215 de mea visinas ia es matada en la dia a cual el refere. Ma cisa multe de los no ia es matada. Alga de los ia desapare en la mesma prison do me ia es torturada. Alga madres e padres, enfantes e amores, frates e sores va revide nunca sua amadas – car los ia es secreta prisonida en un prison nonlegal, asi mesma en la Baia de San Francisco. On ia transporta los a ultramar. La arcivos ia es detaliosa, ma Carrie Johnstone ave la claves de desifri.” Me ia mostra denova Carrie Johnstone, la video de el sentante a la table de comite con Rooney, riente.

“He’s talking about the city where I live. At last count, 4,215 of my neighbors were killed on the day he’s talking about. But some of them may not have been killed. Some of them disappeared into the same prison where I was tortured. Some mothers and fathers, children and lovers, brothers and sisters will never see their loved ones again – because they were secretly imprisoned in an illegal jail right here in the San Francisco Bay. They were shipped overseas. The records were meticulous, but Carrie Johnstone has the encryption keys.” I cut back to Carrie Johnstone, the footage of her sitting at the board table with Rooney, laughing.

Me ia inserta la metraje de la aresta de Johnstone. “Cuando on ia aresta el, me ia crede ce nos va reseta justia, tota la persones ci el ia rompe e desapare. Ma la presidente” – me ia mostra un foto de el, riente e juante golf en un de sua multe vacanses – “e sua stratejiste xef” – aora un foto de Rooney, presante manos con un gidor teroriste malfamosa ci ia es a “nosa lado” a un ves pasada – “ia interveni. Los ia envia el a un corte militar secreta, e aora acel corte ia desacusa el. En alga modo, los ia vide no mal parte en tota de esta.”

I cut in the footage of Johnstone being arrested. “When they arrested her, I thought we’d get justice. All the people she broke and disappeared. But the president –” I cut to a still of him laughing and playing golf on one of his many holidays “– and his Chief Strategist –” now a still of Rooney shaking hands with an infamous terrorist leader who used to be on “our side” “– intervened. They sent her to a secret military tribunal and now that tribunal has cleared her. Somehow, they saw nothing wrong with all of this.”

Me ia inserta un composada de la sentos de fotos de prisonidas en sua selulas cual Barbara ia publici en la pajeria de la Gardor de Baia a la dia de nosa relasa. “Nos ia eleje esta persones. Nos paia sua salarios. On suposa ce los es a nosa lado. On suposa ce los defende nosa librias. Ma esta persones” – un serie de fotos de Johnstone e la otras enviada a la corte militar – “ia tradi nosa fida. Cuatro menses resta ante la eleje. Esta es un tempo longa. Sufisinte per permete ce tu sorti e trova sinco de tua visinas – sinco persones ci ia sesa vota car sua eleje es ‘no person de la listadas’.

I cut in a photomontage of the hundreds of shots of prisoners in their cells that Barbara had published on the Bay Guardian’s site the day we were released. “We elected these people. We pay their salaries. They’re supposed to be on our side. They’re supposed to defend our freedoms. But these people –” a series of shots of Johnstone and the others who’d been sent to the tribunal “– betrayed our trust. The election is four months away. That’s a lot of time. Enough for you to go out and find five of your neighbors – five people who’ve given up on voting because their choice is ‘none of the above.’

“Parla a tua visinas. Fa ce los promete vota. Fa ce los promete reprende nosa pais de la torturores e brutas, los ci ia burla mea amis cuando los ia reposa fresca en sua tombas a fondo de la porto. Fa ce los promete parla a sua visinas.

“Talk to your neighbors. Make them promise to vote. Make them promise to take the country back from the torturers and thugs. The people who laughed at my friends as they lay fresh in their graves at the bottom of the harbor. Make them promise to talk to their neighbors.

“La plu de nos eleje no person de la listadas. Esta no susede. On debe eleje – eleje libria.

“Most of us choose none of the above. It’s not working. You have to choose – choose freedom.

“Mea nom es Marcus Yallow. Me ia es torturada par mea pais, ma me ama ancora abita asi. Me ave des-sete anios. Me vole crese en un pais libre. Me vole abita en un pais libre.”

“My name is Marcus Yallow. I was tortured by my country, but I still love it here. I’m seventeen years old. I want to grow up in a free country. I want to live in a free country.”

Me ia fa un fonde asta la logo de la pajeria. Anj ia construi esta, con aida de Jolu, ci ia oteni de Spleno-Porco tota nosa spasio nesesada per sempre, sin custa.

I faded out to the logo of the website. Ange had built it, with help from Jolu, who got us all the free hosting we could ever need on Pigspleen.

La ofisia ia es un loca interesante. Tecnical, nos ia es nomida la Alia de Votores per Libria Esuan, ma cadun ia nomi nos Rede X. La organiza – carital e nonprofitante – ia es cofundida par Barbara e alga de la avocatos entre sua amis, direta pos la libri de Isola Tesoro. La finansia ia es inisiada par alga milionores de tecnolojia ci no ia pote crede ce un colie de programores joven ia pedi la culo de Securia Interna. A veses, los ia demanda ce nos vade a sude sur la penisola asta la strada Sand Hill, do on ave tota la capitalistes riscosa, per fa un presenta peti sur la tecnolojia de Rede X. On ia ave mil montones de companias inisiante ci ia atenta profita par Rede X.

The office was an interesting place. Technically we were called Coalition of Voters for a Free America, but everyone called us the Xnetters. The organization – a charitable nonprofit – had been co-founded by Barbara and some of her lawyer friends right after the liberation of Treasure Island. The funding was kicked off by some tech millionaires who couldn’t believe that a bunch of hacker kids had kicked the DHS’s ass. Sometimes, they’d ask us to go down the peninsula to Sand Hill Road, where all the venture capitalists were, and give a little presentation on Xnet technology. There were about a zillion startups who were trying to make a buck on the Xnet.

Lo no ia importa – me no ia debe relata con acel, e me ia reseta un table e un ofisia con un fasada de boteca, ala mesma sur Strada Valencia, do nos ia distribui CDs de Xbox Paranoica e ia aveni sesiones pratical sur construi antenas Wi-Fi plu bon. Un cuantia surprendente de persones promedia ia visita per fa donas personal, o de aparatos (on pote usa Linux Paranoica en cuasi cualce macina, no sola Xboxes Universal) o de mone fisical. Los ia ama nos.

Whatever – I didn’t have to have anything to do with it, and I got a desk and an office with a storefront, right there on Valencia Street, where we gave away ParanoidXbox CDs and held workshops on building better WiFi antennas. A surprising number of average people dropped in to make personal donations, both of hardware (you can run ParanoidLinux on just about anything, not just Xbox Universals) and cash money. They loved us.

La projeta grande ia es ce nos va inisia nosa propre JuReAl en setembre, a bon tempo per la eleje, e asosia forte lo con enscrive votores e dirije los a la voterias. Sola 42 persentos de esuanes ia apare a la voterias per la eleje presedente – la nonvotores ia ave un majoria vasta. Me ia atenta constante fa ce Darryl e Van veni a un de nosa sesiones de projeta, ma los ia refusa constante. Los ia pasa multe tempo con lunlotra, e Van ia insiste ce la cosa es intera nonromantica. Darryl no ia vole parla vera multe a me, an si el ia envia a me epostas longa sur cuasi tota cual no pertine a Van o terorisme o prison.

The big plan was to launch our own ARG in September, just in time for the election, and to really tie it in with signing up voters and getting them to the polls. Only 42 percent of Americans showed up at the polls for the last election – nonvoters had a huge majority. I kept trying to get Darryl and Van to one of our planning sessions, but they kept on declining. They were spending a lot of time together, and Van insisted that it was totally nonromantic. Darryl wouldn’t talk to me much at all, though he sent me long emails about just about everything that wasn’t about Van or terrorism or prison.

Anj ia presa mea mano. “Txa, me odia acel fem.” – el ia dise.

Ange squeezed my hand. “God, I hate that woman,” she said.

Me ia acorda con testa. “Mera un plu ata vil cual esta pais ia fa a Irac.” – me ia dise. “Si on ta envia el a mea urbe, me ta deveni probable un teroriste.”

I nodded. “Just one more rotten thing this country’s done to Iraq,” I said. “If they sent her to my town, I’d probably become a terrorist.”

“Tu ia deveni un teroriste cuando on ia envia el a tua urbe.”

“You did become a terrorist when they sent her to your town.”

“En fato.” – me ia dise.

“So I did,” I said.

“Esce tu va vade a la escuta per Sra Galvez a lundi?”

“Are you going to Ms Galvez’s hearing on Monday?”

“Asoluta.” A du semanas a ante, me ia presenta Anj a Sra Galvez, cuando esta ia invita me per come de sera. La sindicato de enseniores ia oteni per el un escuta ante la Comite de la Distrito Unida de Scolas per esplica ce el debe reseta denova sua posto vea. On ia dise ce Fred Benson va reveni de sua jubila (temprana) per atesta contra el. Me ia espeta felis revide mea ensenior vea.

“Totally.” I’d introduced Ange to Ms Galvez a couple weeks before, when my old teacher invited me over for dinner. The teacher’s union had gotten a hearing for her before the board of the Unified School District to argue for getting her old job back. They said that Fred Benson was coming out of (early) retirement to testify against her. I was looking forward to seeing her again.

“Tu vole sorti per un burito?”

“Do you want to go get a burrito?”

“Asoluta.”

“Totally.”

“Ta ce me prende mea salsa calda.” – el ia dise.

“Let me get my hot-sauce,” she said.

Me ia regarda mea epostas a un plu ves – mea eposta de la Partito Piratin, cual ia reseta ancora un flueta de mesajes de usores vea de Rede X ci ancora no ia trova mea adirije a la Alia de Votores.

I checked my email one more time – my PirateParty email, which still got a dribble of messages from old Xnetters who hadn’t found my Coalition of Voters address yet.

La mesaje la plu resente ia veni de un adirije dejetable de un de la anonimadores brasilera nova.

The latest message was from a throwaway email address from one of the new Brazilian anonymizers.

> Me ia trova el, grasias. Tu no ia dise ce el es tan 5e5o5a.

> Found her, thanks. You didn’t tell me she was so h4wt.

“De ci acel ia veni?”

“Who’s that from?”

Me ia rie. “Zeb.” – me ia dise. “Tu recorda Zeb? Me ia dona a el la adirije epostal de Masha. Me ia razona ce, si ambos ia vade su tera, perce me no ta presenta los a lunlotra?”

I laughed. “Zeb,” I said. “Remember Zeb? I gave him Masha’s email address. I figured, if they’re both underground, might as well introduce them to one another.”

“El pensa ce Masha es dulse?”

“He thinks Masha is cute?”

“Favore la xico. Lo es clar ce sua mente ia deveni desformida par avenis.”

“Give the guy a break, he’s clearly had his mind warped by circumstances.”

“E tu?”

“And you?”

“Me?”

“Si – esce tua mente ia es desformida par avenis?”

“Yeah – was your mind warped by circumstances?”

Me ia teni Anj a distantia de un braso e ia regarda el de supra a su, de supra a su. Me ia teni sua jenas e ia regarda tra la montur spesa de sua oculo a sua oios grande, turbosa, inclinada. Me ia tira mea ditos tra sua capeles.

I held Ange out at arm’s length and looked her up and down and up and down. I held her cheeks and stared through her thick-framed glasses into her big, mischievous tilted eyes. I ran my fingers through her hair.

“Anj, me ia pensa nunca plu clar en tota mea vive.”

“Ange, I’ve never thought more clearly in my whole life.”

El ia besa me alora, e me ia besa resiproca, e alga tempo ia pasa ante nosa sorti per acel burito.

She kissed me then, and I kissed her back, and it was some time before we went out for that burrito.