Final Warning

---by Dave Buhlman

Following is an excerpt from my novel, "Final Warning". It presents a rather bleak picture of a possible future, but developments over the past few years have better set the groundwork for an all-encompassing state.

Begin Excerpt

The conveyance used by the Grassers to transport John to Concord Jail was an electric‑powered jeep that seated six. John was positioned in the back seat between the two Grassers who had controlled and beaten him in his bedroom. He was helpless, but held on to the faint hope that Paige would proceed with their plans and run for Idaho with the children.

The Grassers were silent during the twenty minute ride from Norwood to Concord, which unnerved John. These people had the power of life and death in their hands - his life, his death - and they weren't saying anything to give him a clue about his fate. The Grassers served as judge, jury and executioners for the population outside of the established elite. They were given this power by the UN Security Council to keep order and to strike immediate paralyzing fear into the populace, especially those with a bent toward rebellion. At that moment John could have used some human interaction, even from those who might put him to death. He was scared for himself, and the prospect of never seeing his family again was making him feel desperate. A deep fear gripped him as he realized that he could be used as an example to deter others from becoming breeders. Public torture was a possibility. He hoped that Paige would prevent the children from seeing it on the vidscreen if that horrible event came to pass.

The Grassers were the elite of the world government control forces and John was nervous being in their presence. Their reputation was similar to that held by Nazi storm troopers in the nineteen forties. The training was exceptionally grueling and only one in a hundred made the grade. For this effort they were assured of a good lifetime job with excellent government benefits, including retirement at the age of forty-five. If their loyalty faltered, however, they could be put to death immediately. Like the storm troopers, Grassers rarely fought with anyone who was armed. They liked having all the power in any confrontation.

The jeep pulled up to the gate at Concord Jail and John could hear the howls of those being tortured. In past years the jail and the adjacent farm had served the Commonwealth of Massachusetts as a minimum security lockup. Now it was used by the UN District government to administer all degrees of punishment, including torture and death. There was also a large crematorium on the grounds which served the area northwest of Boston.

John was taken to a building that was very well lighted on the outside and inside.
"Get out," the lead Grasser ordered while yanking John out of the back seat, making sure to whack his head on the door.

They led him into the bright building and pushed him into a room. All he could make out in the brightness was a small desk with a shadow sitting behind it. The Grassers pushed him down to sit on the floor in front of the desk and took off the handcuffs. There was no possibility of escape and any threatening gestures would result in immediate death.
A woman's voice spoke from behind the desk. "Breeder, you're going to die a horrible death. We suspect that you're part of an elaborate scheme to undermine the government's authority and scoff at our fine Gaian laws. Wilson was your football coach, wasn't he?"

The switch to Wilson confused John and actually made him smile at the absurd juxtaposition of the interrogator's question.
"Assistant football coach," was all he could manage in reply.
'Are you mocking me, Larson?" This comment was coupled with a kick to the right kidney area from an unseen Grasser. The pain shot through his entire body, and he cried out.

"If that little bit bothers you, I suggest that you be more selective in your responses," came the voice from the desk. "You know, Larson, we're always looking for conspiracy insiders to declare their loyalty and work for us weeding out the chaff of the society. It's something you might consider."

John wasn't part of a conspiracy, at least not any outside of his family, so he couldn't even fake at taking the bait. Still feeling the pain from the kick, he wished for a moment that he could turn traitor to some movement or another, but he didn't even know of any. He was certainly no zealot and some of the changes made by the new society were beneficial. Street crime was just a bad memory, for example. You could walk the streets at night, at least until the national nine o'clock curfew. All the guns had been confiscated from regular citizens for the stated purpose of preventing crime, but the confiscation was really undertaken to assure that the Grassers and other police forces would not meet with any opposition when they came to take someone away. It was standard practice for totalitarian governments.

"I'm deeply honored, officer, but I am not involved in any conspiracy. If I were, I assure you, I would tell you to avoid punishment. I'm only a husband and father, and, please believe me, I'm not saying that to be at all controversial. I respect the government and its representatives. I had nothing to do with Wilson, and only saw him occasionally in Norwood Center. He was basically a nut." John felt somewhat depraved at his complete supplication, but he was in a life-threatening situation.

No retaliation came so John felt that he had done all right. It was by no means time to relax, but he felt that he might have earned a little breathing room. Then the Grasser on his left side hit him in the head with a nightstick, knocking him to the floor. He was almost unconscious.
"You talk too much, breeder," said the shadow as it approached John. "We certainly don't need abject cowards in our government. Go and arrest the others in his household. Under the new law, they're guilty by association. We'll take care of the whole bunch at once. Breeder extermination makes a great spectacle for the masses." John was heartbroken. He hoped, and prayed for the first time in many years, that Paige was planning to be on the move before the Grassers came back to the house.
"Yes, Commander," the Grasser responded.
John was taken to a tiny, dirty cell and thrown in with such force that he hit the end wall hard, bruising his left shoulder. His head was still bleeding and the pain in his lower back was excruciating. He had little hope that Paige and the kids would escape by the time the Grassers got to them, but they actually had no intention of bothering with her right away, as Parmenter had implied. The statement was made to increase John's suffering. And it did.

As he lay on his bunk, he was thankful that he and Paige had begun planning soon after the government mandated attendance at the Exhibits of Enlightenment. Although the edict was harmless enough, compared to many of the others, it was a clear portent that government control would never cease to increase. The exhibits were ineffective attempts at mind control but people were forced to attend, and that amounted to additional power over the time of peoples' lives. It was a warning sign that worse was to come. And worse did come in the form of forced abortions, government-sponsored WOMBSA coercion techniques, and forced euthanasia at the age of sixty.

It was four o'clock on the morning and John was exhausted. There was intense pain in his head and body, and screams coming from adjacent cells.

Despite his condition, he began to nod off. He thought of his father, a postal worker who had died in John's first year of college. A lot of what his father had warned him about, John now realized, had come true. But he ignored his dad, as most others did.

End Excerpt

Dave Buhlman is a former two term NH State Representative.