Archive for April, 2015

April 7, 2117

Well, we now know what happened in Municipal Two this morning. It was a standard raid, what they refer to as a “Recruitment.” Talk about a bastardization of a word, if ever there was one.

Once upon a time, this was a term generally used for military purposes, when they would draft, or otherwise recruit, men and women of an appropriate age into the Military Nationals. No longer. No, instead, the term is much more broad, much less discerning. This word is now wielded by the Elites as another measure of power, of instilling fear in our citizens. This morning, the Elites “recruited” nearly 3,000 citizens of Municipal Two’s Underbelly. This was achieved by their local Elite Officers and Premiers encircling a several block radius of the Underbelly and apprehending all those within that square. The residents ranged in age from just nine weeks to sixty-two years. These individuals are now the latest batch of test subjects for the Military Nationals. They are being dispersed into various test facilities as follows:

For those aged less than thirteen years, a new living arrangement has been assigned. They are being moved to a facility outside all other Municipals for testing. The location they have been sent to is a renowned “Smart facility”, where they already house approximately 10,000 subjects. Some may participate in electronic interference programs, testing to determine how the human body, and human brain react to electronic chips inserted in their brains as they grow, how their physical body, mental capacity and personality are altered by the electronic stimuli, controlling their movement, their thoughts. Why you ask? The Elites are working toward a day when they can simply place a chip in our brains upon birth, control us to the most miniscule detail to ensure we are conformed, cooperative citizens. In their minds, this will be the ultimate super-soldier, the prime citizen, incapable of independent thought or action.

Others will participate in laser therapy, determining how different laser weapons impact the neurological health of teens and young adults over time. After all, this will aid in corralling the less desirable of us, those of us in the Municipal Middles and Underbellies. They believe that if they can maintain perimeters with lasers, it will free up their guards, their surveillance for more pressing matters.

Considering our already limited and diminished presence in the world, I wonder what they would do with the time.

Of course, the others… they will be used for “standard testing”. You know the ones, endurance testing, harsh environment resilience, medication testing, weaponry fall out. After all, it’s much cheaper to use one of us to study than if they were to build, to create a synthetic subject, keeping us from harm. For them, it’s more entertaining this way too.

They deem this a successful recruitment, with minimal resistance. Of course, you and I know that resistance is futile, at least at this point, but one day my fellow Legion members, one day that will change. Our collective has never been so strong, our reach so expansive. We will continue to prepare, to position ourselves, all for the day… the one fateful day when we make ourselves known. So, remain vigilant. That day is coming. Until next time…

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.

April 6, 2117

Received new Orders today. While they are concise, I know they are only part of a much larger picture as I’m transferring a restricted communication. It’s sealed and password protected. I can’t determine the contents.

Also, an unfortunate side-effect of maintaining the anonymity of this broadcast blog, ensuring it remains secure, is that I do not know how far my reach goes, nor how many of you receive these updates. So, I say this: if you belong to the Legion in Muni Two, or can make contact with those who are there WITHOUT (and only without) risk of your communication being realized by the Elites, please put them on high alert. Sometime in the next 24 hours, something large will be going down. I do not know what. I do not know when, but I do know it will be in Muni Two’s Underbelly. I overheard some of the communication, but regretably, no additional details.

Please be on high alert and remain vigilant. Until next time…

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.

April 5, 2117

Powerless. This feeling, this helplessness, this raw emotion is one we all battle on an everyday basis, isn’t it?

Though there are times when we each step forward, take action and help fellow citizens in opposition of the Elites’ evil, such action is not always possible. There are times when to do so, is to jeopardize not only our lives, but our beloved Legion, the entire Opposition. I encountered one such scenario earlier today.

After reporting for duty this morning, I received my directives and had implemented my orders no more than twenty minutes before I smelled it: a bitter heat, the warm stink of chemicals. The scent of burning dust and dry wood registered in my mind even as my ears identified the loud crackling, snapping sounds of hate. As I turned the next corner, I saw it, an angry wall of flames engulfing the shoddy frame that remained of a dilapidated apartment building. Sharp bursts of fire shot out of the building’s open holes that decades ago had housed windows, the flames biting at neighboring rick shack dwellings, running along the roofline of the one most near. Because of the impromptu craftsmanship of dwellings that deep into the Middle, residents ran for their lives, some bouncing off me as I walked against the steady stream of their fear. They’ve seen the news reports over the years. They know how quickly flames can spread in the Middle.

Gauging the size of the inferno, it was clear the flames had begun some time ago. Yet, there were no sirens approaching, for surely, they had been ordered to stand down. As I drew nearer, my suspicions were confirmed. I saw that the doors had in fact, been boarded shut, as had the lower window casings. For those inside, there would be no escape. I considered rendering aid, wrenching open one of the doors, searching inside for anyone who might still be alive despite the fire’s fury. These thoughts were quickly dashed as I remembered my transponder in the radio. Today’s mission was only a short journey. As such, I would never be out of range of the Capital, and thus, was unable to disengage or shut off my signal on the tracking beacon.  If I were, they would know I had interfered. The signal had clearly tracked me to this point. Any deviation would instantly be reported. I could only pass by in horror.

My heart grew heavy as I continued toward the fire. As I neared, I could hear the pops of small explosions inside and could actually feel the temperature rise with each step. The sound was deafening as the fire roared, the heat drawing sweat from my pores as it radiated off my skin. But the red and orange beast wasn’t what caused my skin to crawl. No. The fault for that lie solely with what I saw just a hundred feet in front of me.

The throng of fleeing civilians had thinned to allow me to see three men standing on the sidewalk, watching the blaze from across the street in awe, horrid smirks plastered on their soulless faces. The one nearest me turned as I approached and I watched his face brighten.

I knew the man who had been pointing and laughing at a woman desperately screaming from the top floor window. He and I had been in the same class. He had considered me a friend, and though we both received similar posts within the Capital, our allegiances could not have been more different. He grasped me by my shoulders as I approached and kissed my cheek briskly in greeting. I felt my body go rigid as the devil brought his lips to my cheek but fought the steeling urge to knock him to the ground and take his life as retribution. Instead, he introduced me to his comrades.

As I shook the third man’s hand, motion caught my eye. It had been a flash of light separate from the dark plumes of smoke pumping from the inferno. As I turned to face it, my ears were assaulted by the men’s raucous laughter even as my heart swelled into my throat. I will not use a name, but the younger brother of a fellow Legion member was hobbling toward us. It appeared he had jumped from a third floor window. He dragged his right leg behind him, his voice twisted in agony even as he extended his right arm toward me, flames dancing along his back, his arm, his hair already gone, the left side of his face seemingly melted.

The men behind me began to cackle, letting out gleeful whoops and cheers as the boy dropped to his hands and knees, hanging his head as he was overcome by the fire. I steeled myself against the urge to rush and render aid. I knew there was nothing I could do. He was too far gone, and helping the innocent little boy who had celebrated his ninth birthday only one week prior would only risk my cover, make the Legion vulnerable to exposure.

Instead, I stood by idly, unable to help, to save… powerless. Once he stopped moving and his entire body succumbed to the flames, I finally turned back to the men. They were still watching their handiwork, be it the child or wall of flames across the street in awe. The screams from the woman had abated. The smell of burning flesh encircled me even as I feigned a smile at the men and scurried down the street, my tail between my legs.

I was an accessory to what happened today. I was powerless to alter the death that took place. Surely, you’ve seen the broadcast by now and know that a message was sent to the Legion today. They suspected Legion members lived in that building out in the Middle. True. Some did. But, they took forty-seven lives, only three of which belonged to us. I regret to admit I stood by today, but I will not let them die in vain.

The loss of life I witnessed is the perfect reminder that the Legion must press on. So, until next time….

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.

April 4, 2117

First, fair warning: I will be making additional posts about Elite Compliance…and a lot of them.

For the moment though, I want to discuss the buses I referenced in my earlier post called “Bullets bite” (http://cloveramerica.net/2015/04/21/bullets-bite/). In that post, I mention the “driver” of a school bus. Now, for fellow Elites who also happen to be a part of the Legion like myself, you know what I’m talking about. For those of you loyal to the Legion from either the Middle or the Underbelly, you may find it difficult to believe that any vehicle in the Upper has a driver, a real live human being, behind the wheel.

Yes, the vehicles in the Upper are automatic, that is, self-driving. They follow predetermined paths to the programmed destination. Also true is the fact that the older vehicles, those requiring human operation have been deemed outdated and thus, have been scrapped or managed to find their way to the Middles and Underbellies of various Municipals. However, the Uppers’ automatic vehicles still have a driver’s seat. This is to allow for a driver, when an override is necessary. There are times they go off the programmable path. One example of such a venture is the field trip described in the “Bullets bite” entry. Looking for another example? Try this one on for size, and please also consider another idea: when cornered, when pressed, a citizen has two choices: conform or die.

Several months ago, I completed my education. For our final year, my class had been segregated from the other students, deemed amongst the top tier. Once done, I received my appointment as an Elite Premier. Others in my class were similarly placed. However, despite being a part of the top tier in our graduating class, there were some who didn’t quite… make the grade. A fellow student was adamant that the final test results were wrong. He had long dreamed of becoming a Premier like myself. In truth, if any of us were to become a Premier, he seemed the natural choice. Yet, as we received our appointments, he was granted only “Containment Administrator”. That’s it. He, who had so much potential was told he would not only be a guard posted at various intervals to ensure nobody entered the Upper without authorization, but he would have to leave the Upper and move into the Middle for the remainder of his days. He was a second generation Elite. He had looked down his nose at the Middle his entire life. Unable to fathom living such a life of what he had believed to be degradation, he had refused. He did not accept the appointment. He denied them.

Without further discussion, two armed guards approached him on the stage and roughly escorted him to the parking lot. Two additional guards entered the drivers’ seats of those self-driving vehicles and started the ignitions, their engines barely more than a whisper. The crowd held their collective breath as our fellow student had a band strapped to each ankle, the respective straps attached to the connection belt at the rear of each vehicle.

Our Principal stood before him, repeating the assignment. In response, the student only jutted his jaw. Seeing his defiance, the Principal only nodded her head. We watched on as both vehicles inched forward.

At first, the only sound was that of the compacted gravel, the stones crunching below the tires. But, then came the grunting, followed almost immediately by a desperate scream. “No!” He fell to the ground as his ankles continued to draw away from one another. “No! No! Please!”

The cars continued.

And then subhuman roars, cries, screams as his limbs were nearly torn from his body. The Principal moved her index finger to her ear, clearly issuing an order to the drivers as they both stopped instantly. The student was in agony, screaming, his upper body writhing in distress. We waited several minutes until shock overtook his countenance.

“Do you accept your appointment?” Our Principal repeated.

From where I stood, I heard nothing.

“Repeat it so they can hear you!” She commanded.

“Yes!” He shouted, his voice still conveying his pain.

“Good.” Was her only response before she extended her arm and committed a bullet to his head. Turning back to the rest of us calmly, she smiled, her voice softening. “Anyone else have issue with their appointment?”

“No, Ma’am.” Our voices rang out unanimously.

“Very good.”

So you see, though our vehicles may now be self-sufficient, the driver’s seat remains. The Elites are not willing to give up such control.

Until next time…

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.

April 4, 2117

I’ve been asked why I started this blog, why now? Was there an event that triggered it? Is there something I saw that I had to tell the world? In truth, my answer to these questions is yes. But, it wasn’t any one item. It wasn’t something I encountered recently. Rather, these evil atrocities have been happening throughout my, and all of your, entire lives. As an example, please allow me to describe something that happened when I was just a child, nearly ten years ago.

In school, I had a very dear friend, Colton. He has asked that I use his name, as he wishes to participate in this blog. For now at least, I will use only his first name, though he pushes for full disclosure.

As children, we were both naïve, both having always thought what we’d been told, that those in the Underbelly were trash, disposable, that they were savage, ungrateful beasts to be avoided at all costs.

Back then the Elites had grown more brazen as the Opposition had seemed to disperse under Braden James’ guidance, unaware that it was to allow us an opportunity to regroup. Because of the Elite’s bravado, the students were allowed field trips, armored buses that ferried us into enormous fenced-in lots so we could see the Underbelly residents up close. Our classes had been grouped together and Colton and I shared a seat, peering through the barred windows at them. There were hundreds of emaciated, dirty, rotting people. Dark circles ringed their bloodshot eyes and their joints were little more than knobs along their limbs.

Since then, we have come to learn that those people had actually been fenced into that dirt lot, and others like them. They had been selected from the medical testing facility and were out of their minds. They were starved, occasionally sprayed with water from a fire hose that they surely drank to stave off dehydration. Some still fell victim to the desert heat, and when they did, their bodies fueled the food source. The people were caked in mud, and to our young eyes were monsters. Horrid, filthy creatures. As our busses pulled into the lot and the gates were secured behind us, the live corpses clamored over one another, their words incoherent, the stench unbearable as they pulled and climbed the bars. Each bus had a turret atop it and the busses parked strategically, out of the line of fire from one another.

I remember the silence within the bus, before the desperate howls of those outside became unbearable. As their bloodied fists punched and broke through glass, most kids shrieked, and shrunk toward the center of the bus, some plopping into the center aisle.

And then, only death.

An explosion of heavy shell machine gun fire burst from atop the busses, the vibrations jarring each of us in our seats. Colton was the only child who maintained his position by the broken window, while I tried to calm the mass of screaming kids inside. I saw our instructor, the driver, watching me in the oversized mirror, but I ignored him. I worked to quiet the children which must have seemed resilient and strong, but in truth, I needed them to stop, to maintain my own sanity. Once they quieted and the sprawling bodies outside the buses outnumbered those that were still upright and running toward the fences, I returned to the window behind Colton, kneeling on the seat. A group of kids remained huddled between our bus and the bus closest to us, their knees knocking in fear, in hunger. A voice came over the driver’s radio. “Clear. Now they know who lives in the Underbelly, that they’re not like us, just animals. The rest have no sustenance. They are of no concern. Return to class. Lesson complete.”

And another eruption of noise, a cacophony of cheers and elation burst within the bus. Children cheered the demise of those horrid beasts, what they believed a righteous end to a rotten existence. They reveled in the Elites’ poison that day, but not Colton. Instead, he scrambled into gear, and I quickly moved into the seat in front of him, blocking him from view of our instructor as he gathered the snacks we had been munching on and plastic water bottles. He took a cautionary glance my way and I nodded, seeing the instructor’s attention was elsewhere as Colton pushed the snacks and water out the hole in the window. They fell amid the bodies, and though we know those shaking children too had died, it had been Colton who had taken a stand against the Elites that day.

All of you reading this post, you belong to the same Legion as I. This is unacceptable, and fighting to ensure such field trips become extinct, fighting for human rights, for human lives is our calling. Until next time…

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.

April 4, 2117

CLOVER, Clover, clover…. which is correct? Why use the term in this blog at all? Well, my lovely readers, you all belong to the same Legion I do. We are the true Patriots, working toward a goal of reclaiming democracy, securing freedom for not only ourselves, but every American. Once upon a time, freedom was a pillar this Nation stood proudly upon. I, and all of you, believe we will be able to stand proud once more.

So back to the question… why CLOVER? I’m sure that by now, you’ve heard the fables, the tall tales, the myth that is “CLOVER”. You know the ones, spoken in hushed tones, the storytellers always looking anxiously over their shoulders, warily casting glances at the security drones above before whispering, mentioning CLOVER, our very own white unicorn. Some say it is a brutal group of Military National veterans slaying the corrupt politicians leading our country further down the path of totalitarianism, socialism, poverty and ill will. Some say they are a rag-tag bunch of Medical Testing facility escapees, shoeless and throwing homemade explosives at any Elite they see. Others say they are immigrants, unlucky enough to have entered our segregated and broken country, defying our laws and seeking to stake out their own Orders, their own laws, their own government. Personally, I don’t know that I believe in mythological creatures, much less mythological factions.

However, you and I, and every other citizen remembers the propaganda, the paraphernalia strewn about major Municipals just a few years ago.  Braden James’ had just recently given the Orders for all Legion supporters to stand down, to assimilate into our Municipals, claiming it was to allow time to regroup. We all can also recall that on the heels of James’ orders, there were six brutal days that followed, days when Elite Compounds were destroyed, their members slain, when local politicians were found dead in their homes, when their banks had been robbed and electrical grids damaged. We all remember the ubiquitous four-leaf clovers that always seemed nearby. There were posters or spay-painted renderings of the image, or just the word in all caps adorning nearby walls, as if keeping a watchful eye. Was this a coincidence? Doubtful. Does it mean any of the myths associated with CLOVER in the time since are true? Unsure.

What I am sure of, is that this simple, four-leaf CLOVER has made the Elites wary. It has given us hope. It has taken on power, reverence and a sense of wonder. That is what I want this blog to serve as, a springboard of wild ideas, a new chapter where Legion members feel emboldened to belong. We are not alone. We are in this together. After all, if a four-leaf clover can incite so much fear in our enemy, real or not, I will fly under that banner. It is about time the Elites began to live in fear. Opening communication amongst ourselves is the first step in that process.

Going forward, I will share the Elites’ crimes with you here, making a record of the horror they spread amongst our midst. Please feel free to share your own, by adding comments and leaving feedback. Until next time…

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.

April 3, 2117

My name is Harper Eckles. For those of you who don’t know me, I am an Elite Premier within Muni Six, or as it was once known, Las Vegas, Nevada. This communication has been encrypted and is for the eyes of Legion supporters only. Rest assured, every precaution has been taken. The Elites cannot determine who sees this post, and cannot trace it back to any of you. If they were to learn this blog exists, I am the only one who would be found out. If that happens, I’m dead. With my death, comes my silence and no future communications will go out, thus ensuring your anonymity. Should any blood ever be shed in my attempt to open communication between Legion members, to further the Cause, the cost will be paid in my blood alone. My confidence in the security of this post is so high, that I share my position, my name, my location with you. Only those we can confirm to be loyal to the Legion, to the entire Opposition will have access to this blog.

I assure you, reading this post, following my updates will pose no risk to you, and perhaps more importantly, will not jeopardize those you love.

The purpose of this blog is to remind us that despite the corruption, the fear we see wrapping itself ever tighter around our very own Legion, we are not alone. United, we are strong. I will not allow them to keep me, to keep any of you in the dark any longer. There is information that must be shared, things that must be witnessed and communicated. The genocide the Elites dole out will no longer go unspoken.

We are the Legion. Despite their best efforts, the Legion lives on.