M.A.D.

(audio transcript: Keepsake Records Radio Show; January 6, 3 years after the takeover) CYDONIA: `[0:00:00]` Hello, hello, both returning and new listeners alike. Welcome to the Keepsake Records radio show. This is your host, Cydonia, or Cyd for short. `[0:00:11]` Today’s date is January 6th. It is 8:00 AM, Pacific Standard Time. Good morning to my fellow Americans -- or rather, my fellow people trapped in this hell-hole of a country we call the United States of America. Though there’s nothing “united” about us now... `[0:00:30]` Hmph, forgive me for being cynical so early in the morning. (LAUGH) I know I usually wait until a little later in the day to get into condemnations of our government -- though that is why most of you listen, isn’t it? `[0:00:44]` Well, whether you listen to this show for my critical and unfiltered takes, as an act of rebellion, or simply for the good music, I hope I am able to fulfil your wishes and inspire hope and happiness in all of your hearts. `[0:00:59]` Thus, it is with great...frustration and sadness that I remind you all of the history of today -- of this day many years ago. Today, January 6th, is the anniversary of the First Insurrection. `[0:01:16]` On January 6th, 2021, thousands of right-wing supporters of the fascist leader at that time stormed the Capitol building. They rioted, looted, destroyed property, fought police, threatened members of Congress with harm and death. It was a brutal and unprecedented attack. `[0:01:35]` But if you know anything about me, you know that I do not judge rebellions by the actions of the rebels, but rather by the motives. This may be an unpopular opinion, but I firmly believe that the ends justify the means -- as long as the ends are able to be justified. If the means are really so horrible, take a step back and think: what are you truly fighting for? And in the case of the First Insurrectionists, their motive, what they were fighting for, was far more sick and disturbing than the actual violence they carried out. `[0:02:11]` Their insistence on spreading and believing in disinformation that their corrupt leader had won an election that he so clearly lost -- their disregard for the basic principles of democracy -- their abhorrent bigotry and narcissism -- that is what disgusts me far more than their looting or rioting. `[0:02:30]` And the worst part is that the First Insurrectionists set the stage for a conservative comeback in America, and eventually the events of the Second Insurrection that put our present fascist government in power six years ago. (DEEP SIGH) `[0:02:43]` We owe much of our current predicament to them. Really, we have to give it up for those neo-Nazis and racists who plunged this country into ruin. (SCOFF) Well, that’s all I’ll say about that for now. We have plenty of other grim news to discuss today. Then, let’s get into it. The time is 8:03, this is Cyd from Keepsake Records -- let’s talk about everything new since yesterday. ([[end of audio transcript->scene2]])

{(set: $trust to 5)}General Wright peers at Samuel with an unreadable expression that betrays measure of neither approval nor contempt. Considered separately, all of his features might be thought of as handsome -- blond hair combed over a prominent forehead, a straight and pointed nose, a white speckled beard, grey eyes that look blue because of how impossibly white his skin is. But altogether, they create a face that is only cruel. Sam used to wish he had blue eyes instead of his muddy brown, the same shade as his hair. Now, he just wishes the General would //say// something instead of giving him this iron death stare. It's petrifying. Everyone knows that if General Wright wants to speak to you personally, you've either done something extremely good, or you've massively fucked up and should say your final goodbyes. It's impossible for Sam to tell which (link-reveal: "reason")[(show: ?orders)] he is here for. |orders)["Your next objective is to take down the Keepsake Records Radio Show," Wright finally says, sitting back in his chair. Sam almost audibly sighs in relief; he's not dying today. He had been afraid that the two Secret Service agents standing on either side of Wright were here to kill Sam. Instead, they continue to stare straight ahead, their eyes masked by black shades, stoic and uncanny. Sam repeats curiously, (link-reveal: "\"Radio show?\"")[(show: ?radioshow)] He fights against the urge to tap his feet or fiddle with his hands out of nervousness. He doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of the supreme leader of the United States of America. He's risen too far and gained too many promotions to risk looking stupid now. |radioshow)["You haven't heard of it?" General Wright asks in response. Sam shakes his head, and the General scoffs, "Consider yourself lucky. It's been making waves both here and internationally. The host is some communist idiot named Cydonia (link-reveal: "who plays music and spews radical nonsense.\"")[ >> [["What's the big deal? He's just playing some music."]] >> [["How deplorable. I'll begin work right away."]] ] ]]

{(set: $trust to $trust - 1)}"What did you just say?" Wright glowers. //Shit.// "Nothing! I'll begin work on this right away. Any communists on American soil must be stopped!" Sam prays to God that he didn't just (link-reveal: "ruin everything.")[ An uneasy glare rests on General Wright's hardened face, but he relaxes further in his chair. "Not just American soil, but anywhere on Earth." "Of course," Sam agrees. "Please, tell me more about this [[Cydonia]] character."]

{(set: $trust to $trust + 1)}"That's what I like to hear." The General nods once in approval. Sam almost breaks out into a grin before reminding himself not to be so childish. "Please, tell me more about this [[Cydonia]] character," Sam requests. He struggles to sound both polite and confident. It's a difficult balance.

"He's a slippery one," the General muses. He leans back even further in his chair and props his legs up on his desk so that the soles of his boots are right in Sam's face. Sam is surprised by the impropriety. If he had put his feet on the table as a child, his parents surely would have slapped some sense into him. But he supposes that when you're the ultimate leader of the most powerful country in the world, there //was// no one to slap sense into you -- (link-reveal: "you could act however you wanted.")[ The General continues, "He's impossible to track down and impossible to shut up. My men try to use radio waves to triangulate his position? They get nothing. They try to disrupt the signal he's broadcasting on so that no one can hear him? He's back on with a new signal in no time. I just don't get it. The kid is good. He's somehow constantly one step ahead of us, evading capture." Wright shakes his head in disgust. "He even publically taunts us on his show. His list of crimes against the government is so long that (link-reveal: "he could lawfully be executed without a trial.\"")[ >> [["That's horrible."]] >> [["That's awesome."]] ] ]

{(set: $trust to $trust + 1)}Sam shudders, not just from disgust at Cydonia, but also a realization of how difficult this job is going to be. A frown settles onto his face. "That's why I'm tasking you with this job." Sam looks into the General's sharp blue-grey eyes for some sign of sincerity or emotion, but nothing rises to the surface. "This was originally given to the lower level guys in Homeland Security, but they weren't getting any results. We underestimated Cydonia. That's why I've gone up the ranks to you--" he points thick index finger at Sam "--to figure this out. I have to admit, you have an (link-reveal: "impressive track record.\"")[ Sam had gotten so many promotions and become so well-known chiefly because of how many leftist rebel communities he had disrupted and captured. Some people were even throwing around ideas that Sam could join General Wright's cabinet. Now that Sam had caught his attention -- literally, as he sits in his office -- he realizes those rumors may be true. "Thank you, sir." "I'm depending on you, Samuel," General Wright says. "You're gonna catch this son of a bitch and bring him to me alive. Understand?" [["Yes, sir."->end of scene 2]] ]

{(set: $trust to $trust - 1)}Sam wants to bang his head against the table for saying that out loud, but admittedly it was true. He had gained so much rank and notoriety for taking down leftist rebels, but they had all been so easy. He wants a //real// challenge -- and this Cydonia guy just might be it. The General doesn't say anything; he only raises an eyebrow, out of perhaps confusion or (link-reveal: "surprise.")[ "Sorry, that came out wrong," Sam mumbles, but Wright shakes his head. "No, you're good. This is why I picked you--" he points his thick index finger at Sam "--you're enthusiastic about your job, and damn good at it. Channel that into finding this son of a bitch, and bring him to me. (link-reveal: "Alive.\"")[ Sam frowns. "Forgive me for asking, sir, but why do you want him alive? Didn't you say he can be killed without a trial anyway? Can't I just kill him when I capture him?" "No, //I// want to do the honors." A fiery glint of determination flashes through the General's eyes. "I want to execute him publicly. Get revenge for all those times he mocked us on his show. Make a spectacle out of his death. Warn all those other rebels about--" "--what'll happen to them if they don't fall in line," Sam finishes grimly. The General smiles. It's unsettling to see such a positive emotion on his usual angry or stoic face. [["Exactly."->end of scene 2]] ] ]

"Say, you're from the South, right?" General Wright asks. He fumbles through his pockets for a pack of cigarettes and removes one. Sam nods, watching the General ignite his cigarette with a silver lighter. "South Carolina, born and raised." "You've never lived anywhere else?" "Well...besides for my time serving in the military, no." Wright cocks his head. "You served?" As he speaks, smoke billows from his mouth. "Yes, sir. In the (link-reveal: "2nd Mexican-American war.\"")[ The General throws his head back and laughs, a deep booming sound. "That was hardly even a war! The Mexicans never stood a chance." Sam isn't quite sure what to say. Was that an insult or just an unrelated comment? Why was the General suddenly breaking away from his usual cool, stoic persona? Sam's discomfort is furthered by the hotness of the room. His sweat sticks to his clothes and the chair. General Wright continues with a less amused look, "Well, I was just asking because we're gonna have to transfer you to California for this job, since all our intel suggests that (link-reveal: "that's where Cydonia is.\"")[ //California?// Sam's disgust shows too clearly on his face, since Wright chuckles again and says, "I know, I know. I'm sure you don't want to go there. I certainly wouldn't. That place is lawless and Godless, crawling with rebels and sinners. But taking down Cydonia is the key to taking down California, and then the whole rebellion." He abruptly slams his hand down on the desk. Sam doesn't flinch, but his eyes widen. "Kill them at the source." "Yes, sir!" Sam agrees. He almost feels bad for the table. He wouldn't want to be in its place, hit by the powerful hand of a powerful man. Sam was beat by his father as a child, of course, but his father was no General Wright, hardened by years of military leadership and war. His father was just a man trying his best to raise a good son. Sam wonders if the General beats his own kids too; what must it be like for them, to have to live up to the expectations of the leader of the United States? (link-reveal: "\"When do I leave?\"")[ The General's grim expression has all but returned. The stress lines and bags under his eyes reveal his age. It surely can't be easy to be him. Looking into his eyes, Sam feels a strange lightness in his stomach. Is it respect? Yes, respect, for a man trying his best to raise a good country. "You can leave as soon as you're ready. The sooner the better, really." Sam nods. "I swear, I will catch Cydonia." Just saying the name puts a bad taste in his mouth. But he forgets all about it when [[General Wright->scene 3]] smiles at him, that strange feeling returning to his stomach. ] ] ]

(text transcript: excerpted newspaper article; 2 months after the takeover) (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<h2>Wright-wing Politics in USA Lead to Fear of WWIII</h2>] (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<h3>The establishment of a fascist dictatorship in America leaves people questioning if anywhere is safe.</h3>] (align:"<==>")+(box:"=XX=")[Following a recent violent breach of the White House and Capitol Building, including the assassination of the President and Speaker of the House, the former military general of the US, General Nathan Wright, declared himself the God-chosen supreme leader of the US. Wright has since assumed control of all branches of the US government, abolished all parties, and halted any elections, giving himself full dictatorial power. In just this short time, he has already declared war on Mexico and Canada. Furthermore, he's enacted many far-right policies, such as the very unpopular New Sedition Act, which involved mass censorship and banning of media that does not conform to Wright's standards. Many American people, especially those who were formerly associated with the Democratic party, have been protesting the injustice in distress. Some also claim that their friends and family have been mysteriously disappearing after participating in protests or expressing their dissent online, lending credence to the other rumors floating around about concentration camps. However, a significant portion of the country is also in support of the new government. This group, mainly concentrated in the Southern part of the country, claims to be the "silent majority" that was ignored by the previous government. This Southern stronghold has been providing continued support to Wright in the form of manpower: troops to fill his ever-growing military and officials to fill his new government positions. The increased military spending has aggravated tensions between America and its old rivals, China and Russia. Furthermore, the encroachment on civil rights has strained its relationship with its former allies, such as the European Union, United Kingdom, and Japan. A peaceful future for the world seems uncertain with the hypermilitarization and growing conservatism of America...(story continues on page 3).] ([[end of excerpt->scene 4]])

(audio transcript: Keepsake Records Radio Show; January 27, 4 years after the takeover) CYDONIA: `[2:39:12]` I get asked a lot of questions about my name, Cydonia. What does it mean, what is it from -- those kinds of things. I’ve answered them briefly before, but I want to go more in depth about it today because I feel like the message behind my name is important and deeply relevant right now. `[2:39:30]` I picked the name Cydonia for myself from one of my favorite songs of all time: Knights of Cydonia by Muse. It’s an old rock song, which, some of you might know, is my favorite genre of music. However, more than the genre or sound, what really draws me into this song are the lyrics. `[2:39:51]` When I heard this song for the first time while browsing through my late parents’ CD collection after graduating college, I was immediately blown away by one of the lines in particular: “How can we win when fools can be kings?” I was just shocked by how relatable and fitting it was to the situation at the time -- since the Second Insurrection had just happened then -- and still now. How can we rebels ever expect our revolution to succeed when it’s so easy for incompetent people to take power? I still grapple with this question today, though the gritty guitar riffs and incredible vocal harmonies of this song help to inspire and fuel me. `[2:40:25]` When I listen to this song, I feel all my anger and frustrations with society realized and channeled into a surge of power and direction. A clear motive, a call to action. A desire -- no, a need to fight back against the system. `[2:40:40]` It’s best exemplified by the next lyric, I think. “Don’t waste your time or time will waste you.” It’s a powerful statement -- a reminder of our mortality, of the fate that awaits us all. It reminds us to pick a hill to die on, for death will come for us regardless. It reminds us to be brave and fight back against our oppression before it’s too late. `[2:41:05]` That is why I hold this song so near and dear to my heart. (SIGH) When I was a child, I was afflicted with a rare viral disease and ended up paralyzed in one leg. For a long time, I suffered in silence, feeling that I was too weak to protect myself or anyone else. I thought, how could I stand up for my people if I couldn’t stand up at all? But that day in my parents’ garage, listening to this song for the first time -- it changed my life. I regained the will to live, to fight. I wouldn’t let time waste me anymore. So I opened this record shop to combat the government’s censorship of artists, and I started this radio show to spread awareness for the issues we face, and I created an underground network for rebel communications despite our government’s corrupt surveilance, and I named myself anew: Cydonia. I took Matt Bellamy’s words to heart: “You and I must fight for our rights. You and I must fight to survive.” `[2:42:03]` This song is what encourages me to fight. And I hope it can do the same for all of you. `[2:42:09]` Under the New Sedition Act, this song and many others by Muse were banned for “inciting rebellion against the government.” Well, now this song and many others by Muse are available in Keepsake Records -- if you’d like to purchase your own copies, you know how to contact me. But for everyone else, I’ll play this song on the air right now. `[2:42:29]` This is Knights of Cydonia, by Muse. (MUSIC BEGINS PLAYING) ([[end of audio transcript->scene 5]])

Sam almost misses a phone call from General Wright because he's so distracted listening to Cydonia's radio show. He just can't help it -- since arriving in California, he had felt on edge, like he was out of place. He had put on the show as he drove to his lodgings, just to seem like he fitted in, not expecting at all to enjoy it. No, if anything he expected to //hate// the show, to hate the radical left propaganda and shitty music that was banned for a reason. Yet, inexplicably, as he drove through hot, smoky California, palm trees lining each street, sunlight fiercly glinting off the waves in the ocean, (link-reveal: "Sam found himself //enjoying// listening to the Keepsake Records Radio Show.")[ It wasn't the show itself he enjoyed. He actually did detest listening to all the leftist rhetoric, and more often than not, when Cydonia would go on rants about "injustice" and "civil rights" and "oppression," Sam would scoff and shake his head and mutter arguments at the radio. Yet, he still enjoyed it, because it was //Cydonia//. He found himself falling in love with Cydonia's voice.{(click-replace: "falling in love with", (text-colour:blue))[(text-colour: blue)[~~falling in love with~~] (text-colour:red)[begrudgingly liking]]} It was so smooth and calm, pouring over him like cool water, like gently lapping waves, but there was a hint of gruffness too -- no, //huskiness// -- that made each show feel like an intimate, private conversation, like Sam could close his eyes and imagine that Cydonia was right there beside him; not to mention Cydonia's ambiguous accent that seemed like a mix of SoCal surfer dude and Southern rural farmer, which somehow made his voice even more attractive{(click-replace: "attractive", (text-colour:blue))[(text-colour: blue)[~~attractive~~] (text-colour:red)[interesting]]}. Something about Cydonia's voice just felt very comforting and (link-reveal: "//familiar// to Sam.", (text-colour:blue))[ It was this strange feeling of admiration and familiarity that had been festering inside Sam since listening to the show for the first time. For the last week since arriving in California, he had listened to Cydonia in practically every waking moment under the guise of trying to track him down. He actually //had// tried the radio wave triangulation methods, but it always led him to a dead end. Sam found himself tangled up in Cydonia, hating what he said but loving the way he said it. And it is this entaglement that leads him to almost miss the call. The phone rings four times before Sam is snapped out of his daze, released from the alluring prison of the radio show, broken free from the warm envelopment of Cydonia's sonorous, velvety voice. Sam scrambles to pick up his phone and curses when he realizes it's [[General Wright->phone call]]. ] ]

Disclaimer: this game is a work of fiction. it is not meant to be scientifically/politically realistic, nor is it meant to be a serious political commentary. Furthermore, the political views expressed by the characters in this story do not //necessarily// reflect on the views held by myself or anyone else involved in the making of this game. All the narrators/characters are flawed and unreliable and biased in their own ways. (`tldr:` Just please don't take this too seriously.) Content warnings: mild profanity/slurs; mentions of war, nuclear weapons, conversion therapy, concentration camps, bullying, and domestic abuse; description of gun violence. [[Start->start]]

{(set: $trust to $trust + 1)}Sam remembers his own childhood, all the times his father beat him. He feels a little bad for General Wright's daughter, but he also understands that it is a parent's right and responsibility to discipline their children. She'll understand it too, when she grows up into a mature, functioning adult, like Sam has. The General says, "Exactly. See, you understand me, son. I knew I could count on you." Sam is about to thank him, but he continues speaking. "So, you've been listening to that whiny liberal's show. What've you learned? (link-reveal: "Any progress?\"")[ Sam sighs, "Admittedly, not much. It seems like he has the support of an entire chain of rebels throughout California, like you said, and they all work together to keep the show on air, all around the country. Even if I can track down one of them, it's a whole network, so I can't bring it down that easily." "Those damn commies," General Wright sneers. "Of course they're all working together. (link-reveal: "Fuckin' socialists.\"")[ Cydonia has a segment of his show where he reads through famous texts like Das Kapital and explains them in simple terms -- it was through this that Sam had learned for the first time that communism and socialism aren't the same thing. He almost wants to bring this up -- before he remembers that General Wright certainly wouldn't care, and Sam shouldn't either. "I do have [[an idea]] on how to find him, though," Sam says. ]]

{(set: $trust to $trust - 1)}"Hm, nothing to say?" General Wright jeers. Sam recalls how the General had called him son, and he wonders if Wright would ever treat Sam the way he treated his real children. "Well, anyway, how's your progress been on the objective? Had any trouble in California?" Sam grimaces. "I'll admit, I don't really like it here. I don't mind the heat, but what really kills me is the dryness. And it seems like Cyd is-- //Cydonia// is always reporting a new fire somewhere. Sometimes the smoke reaches here, and it gets hard to breathe." "Yeah, that's what you get with a shithole state run by communists," the General huffs. "All those radical leftists are (link-reveal: "getting what's coming to them, I say.\"")[ Sam frowns. Cydonia always blamed the fires on things like "climate change" and "government negligence" and "deregulation of megacorporations." Sam wasn't entirely sure what all of those meant, but he knew as a patriotic red-blooded American that they must be wrong: climate change is a hoax, the government is infallible, and corporations are people's friends. Yet somehow he also doesn't like the idea of letting thousands of people die in those fires. "But is it really right to do nothing about the fires?" he asks. "Is it right?" General Wright repeats incredulously. (link-reveal: "\"Boy, what has gotten into you?\"")[ "What...what do you mean?" Wright laughs. "Is it right? I don't give a //damn// if it's right. I don't give a //damn// about that state or its people. They're hardly even Americans!" Sam is once again unsure what to say, so he changes the subject. "...My objective is, admittedly, not progressing much. It seems like he has the support of an entire chain of rebels throughout California and around the country, and they all work together to keep the show on air. It's a whole network, so I can't bring it down that easily." "Well, got any ideas?" General Wright scoffs. [["Yes, one idea."->an idea]] ]]

"Sir!" he says nervously. The sleek, black phone is uncomfortably warm in his hand against his ear, not his own personal phone but instead a government-issued one. "Tch, you took your damn time picking up, son," the General scoffs. //Son?// "I'm sorry, sir! It won't happen again..." Sam can't see General Wright, but he can imagine him sitting in his office, legs kicked up on the desk again, smoking a cigarette. Sam can only hear his rugged voice say, "It better not. (link-reveal: "What were you doing anyway?\"")[ >> [[tell the truth->sam admits he likes cydonia]] >> [[make up a lie->sam pretends to dislike cydonia]]]

{(set: $trust to $trust - 1)}Sam admits, "I'm sorry, I was just... I was listening to the radio show a little bit. Just trying to see if Cyd dropped any specific clues about his location or identity." The General snorts, "'Cyd?' What, you're giving him pet names now?" Sam's face flushes, just as uncomfortably warm as the phone. "No, I...ugh, that's what he calls himself on the show. Okay, maybe I've been listening to it a lot more than I thought I would... But I swear (link-reveal: "it's productive!\"")[ For a moment, General Wright speaks no words on the other side of the call. Sam can only hear his breathing. That is until he sighs, "You know, I caught my daughter listening to that damn show the other day -- completely against the rules of our house. I asked her about it, and she said the same sorta things." Wright mimics his daughter's high-pitched voice, "'I was trying to figure out who he is' and 'I was trying to be helpful to you.'" Sam doesn't know what to say. The General's voice had taken a dark undertone that slightly frightened him. "It must be good to have such a (link-reveal: "thoughtful daughter...?\"")[ "Good? //Thoughtful?//" General Wright repeats incredulously. "No! She was disgracing our entire family, our entire country! Listening to that commie scum with no remorse, with no permission -- how dare she?!" "So what did you do?" Sam asks. "I had to teach her a lesson, of course!" the General says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. (link-reveal: "\"I beat her!\"")[ >> [["Of course."]] >> [["..."]] ]]]

{(set: $trust to $trust - 1)}Sam freezes, trying to come up with a convincing lie. "Um, I was doing my laundry." "Laundry?!" General Wright guffaws. "Ha! What're you doing //laundry// for? You're a man! Act like one." "Well, man or not, I need clean clothes," he mutters. He hears Cydonia's voice echoing in his head, telling him about "gender roles" and (link-reveal: "\"patriarchy.\"")[ "Laundry's a female job," the General says dismissively. "You should //never// do that as a man. Unless you're one of those queers -- in which case, I should fire you and send you to the camps right now!" General Wright laughs at his own joke, but Sam feels less comfortable. "I live alone, sir, so I don't really have the luxury of offloading chores to a (link-reveal: "woman.\"")[ "You don't have a wife back home? Or a girlfriend? Or a daughter?" Wright questions, almost mockingly. "No, sir. I'm... single and childless." Wright laughs in an uncomfortable way. "Wh--why? How old are you, son? In your early 20s?" "28 years old, sir." "28 with no wife?! (link-reveal: "//Why?//\"")[ >> [["I'm just not interested in women."]] >> [["I just haven't found the right one yet."]] ]]]

"Perfect," Wright says. "Tell me all about it." Sam begins, "Finding Cydonia and executing him publicly won't be enough to kill the rebellion -- not alone. The rebel network is huge, and sooner or later someone else would step up to take his place. That's why we need to take down the //entire// network, and everyone in it. And I think we can do that if I infiltrate their ranks. I'll pretend to be (link-reveal: "one of their kind--\"")[ "Filthy rebel scum?" "--yes. I'll act like one of them, become friends with them, get inside their inner circles, and then I'll trick them into telling me their personal information. They're all connected to each other, so getting hold of a few of them should lead us to the rest. And of course we'll kill them at the source -- we'll get Cydonia." "Not a bad idea," the General says, unamused, "but I've already had some guys try that. It doesn't work. Those commies are too damn paranoid, they never talk. (link-reveal: "They always sniff us out in seconds.\"")[ "Maybe, but I don't think they'll catch me. I think I can do this," Sam insists. With how much he has listened to (link-replace: "charming, charismatic", (text-colour:blue))[(text-color: blue)[~~charming, charismatic~~] (text-color: red)[manipulative, indoctrinatory]] Cydonia just in the past week, Sam had already absorbed so much of his propaganda and music. He //knows// he could give a convincing performance, even if it would make him feel seasick. "...Fine," General Wright grumbles. "But if it fails, go back to the old methods." [["Yes, sir!"->scene 6]] ]]

{(set: $trust to $trust - 1)}As soon as the words leave his mouth, Sam realizes how wrong they sound -- (link-replace: "yet, at the same time, how true they feel", (text-colour: blue))[~~yet, at the same time, how true they feel~~]. He scrambles to explain himself, "I mean, in the sense that -- at this point in my life, I'm just...um, more focused on my career! So I'm not interested in pursuing any relationship right now! That's all!" As he justifies it, he feels a strange sensation like (link-reveal: "sinking into water, deeper and deeper down.")[ The General chuckles, "That makes more sense -- you had me worried there for a second." Like coming up to the surface for air, Sam laughs in relief that he managed to save the situation. He had //himself// worried there for a second. "Well, speaking about your career, how is the search for Cydonia? Any luck?" Wright asks. "Uh, I //did// have [[an idea]] about how to take him down. If it works, we'd actually be able to take down the entire rebel network in California." ]

{(set: $trust to $trust + 1)}General Wright seems to approve. "Oh, I understand. Women can be real difficult." Sam sighs in relief that he didn't make things awkward. "Well, one day you'll find a keeper, and you can settle down and start a family." "Yes, that sounds...perfect," Sam agrees, though he doesn't really believe it at all. Somehow, he finds himself //not// wanting to settle down, not wanting that perfect picket fence American dream. He is a restless soul, forever floating at the mercy of the waves, (link-reveal: "searching for //something// he can never quite understand.")[ "Hm, anyway -- how's the search for Cydonia going? Any new updates?" "Actually, I did have [[an idea]] on how to take him down. If it works, we could take down his whole rebel network too."]

(text transcript: excerpt of SCOTUS decision; June, 3 months before the takeover) (align:"=><=")[<h3>Opinion of the Court</h3>] In Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. 644 (2015), this Court held that the Fourteenth Amendment requires a State to license a marriage between two people of the same sex. We now overrule that decision. The Constitution makes no reference to marriage, and the Framers clearly did not intend for the Fourteenth Amendment to protect a right to same-sex marriage. The idea that the Constitution guarantees a right to same-sex marriage is without basis in our Nation’s history or traditions. I. The decision in Obergefell has had significant consequences on religious liberty. Many Americans who follow traditional views on marriage have found themselves in conflict with the new legal regime. These individuals and institutions face pressure to go against their religious beliefs and practices, which undermines the First Amendment's guarantee of religious freedom. II. The Obergefell decision also improperly applied the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. The right to marry has traditionally been understood as the union between one man and one woman; thus, denying two people of the same-sex the right to marry does not violate the equal protections under due process of the law. This understanding is deeply rooted in the legal history of Western civilization. The Court in Obergefell dismissed this tradition and substituted its own judgment for that of the people in a gross and egregious overreach of power. III. Finally, and most importantly, Obergefell was wrongly decided because it misconstrued the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment to include a substantive component, despite the fact that its text and history indicate that it is a procedural guarantee only. The substantive rights it protects are those "deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and tradition" and "implicit in the concept of ordered liberty" (Washington v. Glucksberg, 521 U.S. 702, 721 (1997)). Same-sex marriage does not meet these criteria. Furthermore, for similar reasoning, in future cases, we should reconsider all of this Court's substantive due process precedents, including Griswold v. Connecticut, 381 U.S. 479 (1965) (right of married persons to obtain contraceptives), Lawrence v. Texas, 539 U.S. 558 (2003) (right to engage in private, consensual sexual acts), and Loving v. Virginia, 388 U.S. 1 (1967) (right to interracial marriage). Because any substantive due process decision is “demonstrably erroneous,” Ramos v. Louisiana, 590 U.S. (2020), we have a duty to “correct the error” established in those precedents, Gamble v. United States, 587 U. S. (2019). In conclusion, Obergefell is overruled. It is so ordered. ([[end of excerpt->scene 7]])

(audio transcript: Keepsake Records Radio Show; February 14, 5 years after the takeover) (MUSIC FADES OUT) CYDONIA: `[3:47:18]` And that song was Summertime by My Chemical Romance for the Valentine's Day music segment. `[3:47:25]` Now, I’ve played a lot of songs already about romantic love, but for the last song of this segment, I want to talk about platonic love. More specifically, the type of friendship that transcends any other sort of relationship, a friendship so pure and true that it is closer than romance, closer than family. That’s the kind of love that this next song reminds me of, the kind of love that I once had -- and lost. `[3:48:19]` (SIGH) I know I don’t talk about my life before the Second Insurrection too often, but when I listen to this song, I can’t help but be brought back to it. Many people can pick up on the hint of a Southern accent in my voice; if you have, you’re not mistaken. I am originally from the South -- specifically, South Carolina -- and moved to California for college. Only a few weeks after I graduated from UC Berkeley, the Second Insurrectionists overthrew our democratic government and put their corrupt General Wright in power. My parents were arrested for being in an interracial couple, and I never saw them again. Like I’ve mentioned before, I felt very lost and scared after my parents disappeared. I turned to music to cope, and that’s when I became determined to make a difference, so I started the record shop, and...well you all know the rest. `[3:49:08]` When Wright took power and the South sided with him, I felt a lot of anger and hatred for my home state. I tried to pretend like I was always a Californian. Before I started doing this radio show, I used to record my own voice and practice speaking, trying to get rid of my Southern accent. But I just couldn’t. I couldn’t give it up. I couldn’t let go. And that was due in part at least to the next song -- Twin Size Mattress by The Front Bottoms -- and the boy it reminds me of. `[3:49:38]` I was raised in a sort-of rural area, near a forest that was right next to a lake. It was...(SIGH) beautiful, and I grew up with all those sorts of hobbies you can imagine a Southern kid living by a lake would have: fishing, boating, collecting rocks. You know, like any normal kid. Except, I wasn’t normal. I knew it. And everyone else knew it too. `[3:50:03]` I was one of the few people of color in my town, and the only one who was mixed. I was disabled -- I couldn’t walk or run or swim or play the same with all the other kids. And I didn’t know it until I was a teenager, but I was gay. (CHUCKLE) All of it made me an easy target for the other kids to pick on, to take out their own fears or insecurities. Except one kid -- my next door neighbor, who was my best friend. `[3:50:29]` We had been best friends since we were born, practically, and we were inseparable. He was always so kind to me, so courteous and respsectful. It never made a difference to him that I didn't fit in -- he saw me as a human being all the same, something that so many others couldn’t do. We would hang out every day by the lake, fishing or just sitting together. I would tell him cool facts about rocks, and he would try to teach me how to swim, helping me when I inevitably began sinking. Sometimes we would talk for hours, sharing all our deepest thoughts and secrets, and sometimes we would just sit in silence and watch the water. (LAUGH) He actually skipped our senior prom to hang out with me instead. We were that close -- like soulmates, almost... `[3:51:18]` This song always grabs me by the throat and drags me back to that time, so forcefully and so clearly that I swear I can smell the pine trees and fish bait and hear the gentle rush of the water... And I always find myself drifting back to my best friend. To the tears in his eyes when I told him I was moving. I promised I would call every day, and I did -- until he stopped picking up. One day, his parents picked up in his stead. And they told me the truth: they had sent him away to Bible camp for the summer, after which he was to return home and enroll in the military... (SIGH) `[3:51:57]` I never heard from him or his family again after that, but I thought about him all the time, and I still do. The heartache and longing comes back so clearly when I hear this song. “It’s no big surprise you turned out this way, when they closed their eyes and prayed you would change, and they cut your hair and sent you away...” (LONG PAUSE) I’m sorry, I’m getting a little bit emotional. (AWKWARD LAUGH) This is Twin Size Mattress, by The Front Bottoms. (MUSIC BEGINS PLAYING) ([[end of audio transcript->scene 8]])

Sam sits before his computer with a look of dismay on his face. Open before him is the app Discord and a private chatroom with a rebel. It had been weeks of being active in several servers, talking to all sorts of people from across the world with rebel sentiments, slowly building up trust with them until they referred him to other rebels. Finally, all that work had led him to //this// rebel, who he knows is directly connected to Cydonia. His plan is all coming together -- he just needs to keep up the act. He sighs and reaches for his keyboard, biting the bullet and (link-reveal: "typing the message")[(show: ?hidden)] -- even though it makes him feel sick to do so. |hidden)[sam19285: Hi, I'm contacting you to ask if you know how I can get in touch with Cyd? I wanted to buy one of the records he has on sale (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): who tf are you arson (they/it): and why are you talking like that (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: Idk this is just how I talk, what's wrong with it? arson (they/it): its weird. youre weird sam19285: Oh, uh, thanks I guess? (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: My name is Sam sam19285: I was told that this app was the best way to contact the rebels without the government being able to track us (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): who said i was a rebel (link-replace: "...")[>> [[You have pronouns in your display name, so I just assumed]] >> [[You have "arson" in your display name, so I just assumed]]]]]]]]

arson (they/it): LMAO real (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: So you admit, you're a rebel? (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): honestly these days with wright in power, just existing as a trans/nb person is an act of rebellion (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): i mean theyre already locking us up in camps arson (they/it): (link-reveal: "theyd murder us all if they could", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam swallows back disgust. //And that's how it should be,// he thinks. But then, somehow, he feels guilty. //Did God not create us all in his image?// (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): so why are you interested in connecting with rebels all of a sudden? (link-replace: "...")[>> [[It's like I said, I just want to talk to Cydonia and buy some music]] >> [[I'm actually interested in joining you guys]]]]]]]]

arson (they/it): bruh its not like im actually an arsonist or anything,, thats literally just my name (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: It's just a little quirky idk. I don't think anyone on General Wright's side would have a name like "arson" (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): yeah they wouldnt bc those mfs hate creativity and fun arson (they/it): theyre literally fascists ?????? (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): anyway, whatd you want? why are trying to connect with rebels ? (link-replace: "...")[>> [[It's like I said, I just want to talk to Cydonia and buy some music]] >> [[I'm actually interested in joining you guys]]]]]]

arson (they/it): which is it? talk to cyd or buy music? sam19285: Can I not do both ?? (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): its just sus to me that you dont know about cyd's protocol with this stuff sam19285: Protocol ??? (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): cyd never talks to people directly for music sales, esp with first time buyers arson (they/it): he only talks one on one with (link-reveal: "people he trusts", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam curses under his breath and tries to think of a way to gain their trust. (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: Aw thats a shame. I did really want to buy that Radiohead record tho :( arson (they/it): you can still buy it. youd just have to buy it through me (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): whatre your pronouns? (link-reveal: "ill talk to him for you", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam frowns. At that point, wouldn't it be easier for Cydonia to just talk to Sam? But he knows why Cyd wouldn't -- he's too smart for that. Sam sighs in distress. He needs to improvise, and it has to be convincing. (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: I'm a man, so he/him I guess (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): which album? sam19285: I wanted a copy of Pablo Honey arson (they/it): why?? ok computer is sooo much better (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: I just really like the song Creep sam19285: Idk I found it relatable (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): red flag asf sam19285: What (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): any person who relates to creep is a walking red flag. cyd just agreed with me sam19285: Oh, I didn't know. I just relate to that feeling of not fitting in, you know sam19285: I figured you would get it too, since you're transgender (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): i mean. for me personally, i dont feel like i "dont fit in" arson (they/it): like overall in society under the oppressive regime of wright? yeah, i dont fit in. but here in california with my rebel friends? no, i belong. arson (they/it): even though its illegal, im still very comfortable with my identity. and even if the govt is trying to kill me, i love and accept myself (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: Wow, that sounds nice... arson (they/it): which part? having friends or being comfortable with my identity? (link-replace: "...")[>> [[Having friends]] >> [[Being comfortable with your identity]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

arson (they/it): oh? you wanna become a rebel ? (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): (link-reveal: "why?", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam struggles to come up with a coherent response. He tries to put himself in Cydonia's shoes -- what would Cyd say they're fighting for? (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: I'm actually originally from the South so I've seen the brutality and oppression of Wright's regime firsthand sam19285: I moved to California to escape it, but now I realize that there's no escape until we're all free. So I want to join your movement (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): hm you know what, that's pretty convincing arson (they/it): i had my doubts about you being a fed in disguise or a bot or something (esp w all that capitalization and grammar lmfao bros not writing an essay) (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): but i don't think that a fed would have the balls to type that out. and i know from your response times and message content that (link-reveal: "youre not a bot", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam grins to himself that he managed to fool them. Of course they didn't catch him -- they're so brainwashed that they'll fall for anything that even resembles their leader's rhetoric. (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: Thanks?? lmao (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): where are you from in the south ? sam19285: South Carolina (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): wait fr? arson (they/it): (link-reveal: "thats where cyd is from lmaoooo", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam's smile only grows at this new information. This could help him narrow down Cyd's identity. (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): ok i asked cyd for permission to add you to the general server. he said yes but he also doesnt trust you at all so youre gonna be in like,, restricted mode for a bit, ok? sam19285: That's fine. I just want to help however I can (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): ok cool (link-reveal: " * user `[arson (they/it)]` has invited you to a server!", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam clicks [[accept.->scene 9]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

arson (they/it): oh. yeah it is pretty nice (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): the friends ive made through this rebellion have been some of the best friends of my whole life arson (they/it): like the kindest, smartest, most accepting, most determined people ever (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): theyre solace in this world thats so hostile towards people like us arson (they/it): and thats why i'll always side with cyd and the others. because (link-reveal: "theyve always had my back", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam is itching to know who these "others" are, but he doesn't want to pry. He's so close to his goal, he can feel it. Just a little bit more conversation and he is sure he can break in their trust. (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: Wow that sounds amazing sam19285: I haven't had a friend like that in a long time. These days it feels really isolating. I think it's Wright's fault (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: All the identity politics stuff just makes us all so polarized sam19285: I miss how America used to be, (link-reveal: "the land of the free")[ Sam absolutely hates spewing these kinds of lies, but he knows that it's the only way to get through to these brainwashed, indoctrinated rebels. (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): yeah i totally get that (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): say, do you want to join us? the more numbers we have, the stronger our revolution will be sam19285: Yes! That would be great arson (they/it): ok lemme ask cyd if i can add you to the general server (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): yeah he said ok, but you'll be in restricted mode for a while ! (link-reveal: " * user `[arson (they/it)]` has invited you to a server!", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam clicks [[accept.->scene 9]]]]]]]]]]]]

arson (they/it): oh. yeah it is pretty nice (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): im sorry whats your identity tho? i just assumed (link-reveal: "you were cis mb", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam only knows that "cis" means "person who identifies with the gender they were assigned at birth" thanks to Cydonia's show. He isn't sure what to tell Arson (what a ridiculous name) then about his identity. He decides to just lie -- maybe it could win him some trust points to pretend to be one of their own kind. (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: I'm gay sam19285: But I'm super closeted and (link-reveal: "can't tell anyone")[ The shame and disgust he feels from sending those messages is so nauseating that he has to physically push away from the desk and cover his mouth. //Why?// Why could he not even //pretend// to fathom the idea? Why did every thought of homosexuality make him feel like he was suffocating, dying? Was this God's way of telling him not to accept such a sin? (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): ohhh so thats why youre reaching out to us rebels, huh? arson (they/it): you want to be with a group of people who will actually accept you and not force you to (link-reveal: "hide who you are", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam feels so sick from the lie that he can hardly breathe. (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: Yeah arson (they/it): i get that arson (they/it): that's why i joined cyd and the others (link-replace: "...")[arson (they/it): if you wanna join, i can ask cyd to let me (link-reveal: "add you to the general server?", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam grimaces, mentally and physically unwilling to continue this conversation yet recognizing that he's so close to making progress. (link-replace: "...")[sam19285: Yeah that would be great! Thanks (link-reveal: " * user `[arson (they/it)]` has invited you to a server!", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam clicks [[accept.->scene 9]]]]]]]]]]]]]

(text transcript: classified government document; December, 1 year after the takeover) (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")+(text-size: 2)[Department of Defense DIRECTIVE] --- (align:"<==")[SUBJECT: Nuclear Defense Development References: See `[REDACTED]` 1. PURPOSE: This directive: (align:"<==")+(box:"==XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX===")[a. Authorizes continued research into `[REDACTED]` solutions for the advancement of `[REDACTED]`. b. Authorizes use of `[REDACTED]` in the development `[REDACTED]` weapons. c. Provides `[REDACTED]` more powerful nuclear `[REDACTED]` in dire situations as described in `[REDACTED]`. d. Details strategies for `[REDACTED]` in the case of `[REDACTED]` war with `[REDACTED]` and/or nuclear fallout.] 2. APPLICABILITY: This directive applies to: `[REDACTED]`, the Military Departments, `[REDACTED]`, `[REDACTED]`, the Defense Agencies, `[REDACTED]`, the Central Intelligence Agency (remaining contents of the document are [[redacted->scene 10]])]

As Sam approaches the building to which he tracked Cydonia's location, he is struck by how strange California is. Somehow simultaneously, it is raining heavily in the area, though he can also see the orange glow of a fire on a not-too-distant hill. The smoke and rain mix together to create a disgusting, acrid must in the air that is practically unbreathable. He covers his mouth with his sleeve -- he didn't have any masks with him, since those were "only for liberal sissies," according to General Wright. Though, he wishes he had one now. The building is old and run down, and Sam can see why Cydonia picked it, and why it flew under the radar for so long. It's so unassuming that he can't imagine anyone would have ever guessed it to be Cyd's real (link-reveal: "hideout.")[ A few windows are already broken in, and it looks defenseless, so Sam can hardly say he's "breaking" in. Perhaps trespassing is the better word? Although he doubts this is private property either -- it looks completely abandoned and unowned. Sam supposes it's just //entering// then. Thus, (link-reveal: "he enters")[(show: ?insidethebuilding)] the building with only his gun and his wits with him. |insidethebuilding)[The inside of the building is similarly abandoned and empty. Sam carefully walks around, navigating through the maze of rotting gray walls, until he finds a sign of someone else's presence: a door which has clearly been opened recently due to the lack of dust on its handle. He stands up to the door and tries to listen to what's on the other side, wishing he could silence his breathing, his heartbeat. One hand already begins reaching for his gun out of fear for what might be awaiting him. He almost feels like he should have followed Wright's advice to take backup. He begins to mentally berate himself for being afraid, for being irrational, weak, unmanly. When he can't take it anymore, he finally busts open the door and pulls out his gun, pointing it in front of him. His eyes widen in shock when his gun is actually pointing at a human target -- and one he recognizes. "Samuel?" calls out the equally dumbfounded voice of his (link-reveal: "estranged childhood best friend", (text-colour:blue))[(show: ?quinn)], Quinn, who stares up at him from a wheelchair. Funnily enough, he also has a gun pointed right at Sam's chest, but he immediately puts it down in his lap. |quinn)["...Quinn?" Sam asks back. He doesn't put away his own gun, though his arms falter for a split second. He's almost still in shock -- he doesn't quite want to believe what is actually happening here. It's difficult to reconcile the idea that the man before him is his old friend. Quinn just looks so //different// -- his dark hair has grown past his shoulders in dreadlocks, and he has two dyed streaks of red and blue framing his face; on his arms are countless tattoos of phrases and pictures that Sam doesn't recognize; he has multiple ear and nose piercings and many necklaces and bracelets. There are parts of him that are the same enough for Sam to recognize him as the good kid he knew back in South Carolina -- the same smooth brown skin and warm brown eyes, the same thick lips and flared nose. But he's so //different// in a way that sickens Sam. Is this what 10 years of distance does? Quinn's face breaks into a smile that is quickly overtaken by confusion, and then grim understanding. (link-reveal: "\"So you're with Wright?\"", (text-colour:blue))[(show: ?response)] he asks, his dark and husky voice immediately recognizable to Sam, who has spent countless hours of his life now listening to it on the radio. |response)[>> [["And you're a rebel."]] >> [["...Yes."]]]]]]

(audio transcript: Keepsake Records Radio Show; April 13, 6 years after the takeover) CYDONIA: `[7:29:16]` (SIGH) Listeners, I've just received some grim news regarding the protest happening today. As many of you know, people have gathered together today in LA to protest the recent budget increases for the military. It was a peaceful protest -- people just marching and holding signs -- with only the goal of getting the attention of the people in power and asking them to stop funnelling all our government funds into the military. `[7:29:41]` And unfortunately, they instead got the attention of local police, who proceeded to harrass and attack protestors. (PAUSE) It appears this has been happening for a few hours now; the protestors haven't backed down, and some have instead begun to fight back. However, they are unmatched for the police's bats and vicious K-9s. (PAUSE) I've received news that some police have opened fire on the protestors. It seems that some have been injured fatally. `[7:30:14]` If you know anyone who is participating in this protest, please reach out to them as soon as possible and make sure they are okay. Also make sure they don't get caught -- due to the nature of this protest, they no longer have the right to a lawyer or fair trial under the New Sedition Act. If anyone gets arrested here, they could very well be immediately jailed or even executed. (SIGH) Many people also mysteriously "disappear" after these kinds of protests -- if you know anyone who is a religious minority or LGBTQ+ at the protest, please urge them to get to safety immediately. `[7:30:46]` (SIGH) (LONG PAUSE) `[7:30:52]` (QUIETLY)...Is it just me, or does it feel like the world is falling apart? Like it has been falling apart for decades, even centuries, but it's just getting worse so much faster now? It's like an exponential graph, and the slope of our country's deterioration is a limit approaching infinity. It just seems like...doomsday. Like the apocalypse. The end of all things, counting down. `[7:31:19]` ...Sorry for being so pessimistic. I know I'm usually not like this, even when protests do get beat down like this. But it's just with everything happening, and it all piling together -- it's just hard to not feel a little hopeless, you know? `[7:31:35]` I mean, the fires here just keep getting worse and more frequent. The weather in general has been more extreme, not just in California but all over the world -- what with the flash floods and unprecedented storms and record high temperatures every month. The air quality has gotten so bad in LA that you can barely breathe without a good mask -- not just because of the fires, but also all the pollution. Since the government deregulated all the corporations, they've just been polluting our air and water constantly, and the drought and deforestation has gotten so bad that it seems like California is going to be uninhabitable soon. And the other states are all in similar conditions, but none of us can do anything about it because there isn't enough money. I mean, most of us in the working class can hardly afford to put food in our stomachs, even after slaving away at work for 10-12 hour shifts, because the federal minimum wage was removed. Not to mention how taxes on the working class have increased while the billionaires pay literally nothing -- Wright just wants to protect the interests of his rich supporters, so he removed or minimized taxes on the top 1%. (SIGH) `[7:32:37]` And the worst part is how so many problems could be solved if Wright spent government funds wisely, if he invested in the American people, environment, and infrastructure. But no! -- instead he has to increase military spending again. And for what? We already have the biggest military in the world, and spend far more on it than all other countries combined -- it's been like that for decades now. So why? What are we preparing for? World War III?! Nuclear fallout?! I just don't understand how it can possibly be worth it to build and test a couple more nukes when the American people are drowning and burning and starving! `[7:33:11]` (FRUSTRATED SIGH) (LONG PAUSE) `[7:33:16]` ...We will revolt. And we will succeed. `[7:33:20]` Wright will see. Wright and all his conservatives and bigots and bourgeois. They'll see. We'll show them what it really means to be an American. Revolution is in our blood, in our very hearts and souls. It's ingrained in our history, our culture. We will have our revolution and we will take back this country. We will make this the true land of the free, with liberty and justice for all. Together. ([[end of audio transcript->scene 11]])

(visual record: Polaroid photograph; South Carolina, July, 10 years before the takeover) `[A picture of two young boys fishing.] [They sit side by side on a small wooden pier built along the shore of a lake. One boy turns to face the camera, grinning while holding a fish he has just caught. Beside him is a bucket full of fish they have already caught and a pair of crutches.] [The other boy is holding his fishing rod, the line of which is still in the water. His face is turned not towards the camera or the water, but towards his friend. He looks at him attentively, with a deep admiration present in his eyes.]` ({(if: $doomsday_ending is 1)[[[return to photo album->doomsday ending]]] (else:)[[[return to photo album->scene 13]]]})

(audio transcript: Keepsake Records Radio Show; April 28, 6 years after the takeover) CYDONIA: `[1:08:03]` You know, listeners, I've been thinking a lot recently about the nature of morality. As in, what defines who is a good person or a bad person? Can a good person become a bad person, and vice versa? Or is it just in our nature? Are there really any good or bad people? `[1:08:15]` I know these sound like really basic questions, like something you'd discuss in an Intro to Philosophy class. But it's all I've been able to think about in the last few days... `[1:08:22]` I recently had the opportunity to have a one-on-one conversation with a member of the conservative government. That's what prompted me to fall into this philosophical rabbit hole. The conversation was...enlightening. I realized several things. `[1:08:35]` First of all, those conservatives have so much cognitive dissonance -- it's ridiculous. They somehow genuinely believe that their side is the morally correct one, despite the obvious and abundant evidence surrounding us that it's not. I mean, the economy is in shambles, the climate crisis is worsening, the concentration camps are getting bigger, the number of countries that oppose us is growing. To support Wright is to pretend those problems don't exist, to literally ignore all those problems -- the problems that they cause! I think, on some level, they don't see the people they disagree with as even being human. That must be the reason why they accept and perpetuate the horrible atrocities that Wright commits against us -- because there have no reason to care if they don't even see us as human beings. `[1:09:13]` And it's so easy to think that they are bad people, right? I certainly thought that way. Before I had that conversation, I too believed that Wright and anyone who served for or supported him was a bad person. `[1:09:23]` But then I met S-- someone from his government, someone who I actually used to know a long time ago. And I was shocked because, based on what I remembered of them from the past, I never would have expected them to join Wright's government. And yet...they did. Does that make them a bad person? I know now the circumstances through which they joined Wright's side -- it wasn't entirely their choice, it was more like...coercion, you could say. So are they still a bad person then, because they support a bad leader and perpetuate bad actions? I'm not sure. `[1:09:50]` Because what I've realized is that these so-called 'bad' people -- even the most evil ones like General Wright himself -- all have the capacity to be good, if the circumstances were different. Essentially, hatred and bigotry are taught behaviors, learned behaviors. No one is born being misogynistic, homophobic, or racist. They simply learn to become that way as they grow in a society built on misogyny, homophobia, and racism. A society like what we live in now, the society that Wright has created in the past almost-decade. `[1:10:15]` And that means that, if society was different, if it didn't teach those bad behaviors and perspectives, then people wouldn't do bad things. There wouldn't be 'bad' people. Everyone could be, and would be, a good person. `[1:10:25]` And obviously I know that's a very idealistic and naive standpoint, and I'm not going to sit here and daydream about creating some perfect, utopian society where there is no bigotry or hatred and everyone is good. That's simply foolish. My point is just that the people who hate and persecute us now only act that way because that's how they were taught to think -- and if they were taught, they can be untaught. `[1:10:43]` At least...that's what I hope. At the end of the day, they are human beings too, just like us, albeit very misguided. I hold onto the hope that at least some of them can see the harm perpetuated by their actions and begin to change. I encourage you all not to give up hope either -- on your estranged family members or friends who have turned to Wright's side. Maybe if we find common ground with them, if we make them remember that we are human...they'll see the error of their ways. ([[end of audio transcript->scene 14]])

Disappointment drips from General Wright's sigh when Sam tells him that he was unable to catch Cydonia. Sam almost feels guilty, until he remembers how much Wright would hate him if he knew the truth about what Sam is. "You let that son of a bitch get away?" Wright curses over the phone call. Sam can imagine the frustrated glare on his face. (link-reveal: "\"How?\"", (text-colour: red))[ >> [["He ran away."]] >> [["He knew I was coming."]]]

Waves of unexplainable emotions wash over Sam, each one passing too quickly to make sense of. The only one he can understand is anger. His face contorts into a glare. Quinn's not just any rebel. (link-reveal: "\"You're Cydonia, the worst of them all.\"")[ Quinn -- Cydonia -- laughs sadly and shakes his head. "I should've known," he says in his cool radio voice. "I should've known that fate would bring you back to me in the most cruel way. All that praying...just for us to end up as enemies." "Praying?" Sam spits, "How can you pray knowing (link-reveal: "what a heathen and sinner you are?\"")[ Quinn frowns. "Is that what you see me as? Just because I want freedom and basic human rights?" "Freedom? Rights?" Sam's arms begin to hurt as he keeps the gun pointed at Cydonia's head. He searches through the torrents of his brain to find a (link-reveal: "rebuttal.")[ >>[["Please, you communists all just want anarchy! You want to bring about the fall of the West!"]] >>[["A violent revolution isn't the way to achieve those goals."]]]]]

Sam swallows back his strange feeling of guilt -- a feeling like being submerged in cold water. Somewhere in the hurricane raging inside his mind, he can make out genuine remorse and sadness over this situation -- two boys who were once so close that their minds and souls were united now grew into men on opposite sides of the same war. He puts his gun away, not able to hold it any longer without feeling sick from guilt. Quinn -- the rebel, Cydonia, who Sam had spent months now searching for -- shakes his head angrily and says, "Why?! (link-reveal: "What happened to you?\"", (text-colour:blue))[ "What happened to me? What happened to //you//?" Sam fires back defensively. "You've changed so much! You're...a rebel leader!" "I've just become my authentic self," Quinn says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Can you really say the same?" Sam is dumbfounded into silence. He had fought so hard his whole life to gain the approval of the authority figures in his life -- his father, his school teachers, his commanding officer in the military, General Wright -- that he had never really given any thought to what he (link-reveal: "actually wanted for himself.")[ "I //know// you, Sam. And this isn't you," Quinn says. His voice is just as enchanting in person as it was on the radio. Sam realizes how much he //missed// Quinn. It's strange -- they had been friends for so long; he //knew// that. And yet he had no memory of his emotions regarding Quinn, no memory of ever missing him after he left. Why? "I'm the same as I always was," Sam says numbly, but he knows he's lying. Something inside him is missing. Something important and something that he had never really noticed the absence of until now, but now that he //had// noticed it, he couldn't stop. Quinn frowns at him. "No, I know you're lying! Because how could you //willingly// join their side? The same people who want (link-reveal: "us", (text-colour:blue))[(show: ?us)] dead? Who lock us up in concentration camps?" |us)["What're you talking about?" Sam scoffs. "Who is 'us'?" Quinn looks confused. "What do you -- I mean //us//. The two of us." >> [["There is no 'us.'"]] >> [["What is there between the two of us?"]]]]]

Quinn shakes his head, this time out of disagreement. "I don't need to do that -- Wright is bringing America to ruin all on his own. And he's doing a damn good job of it." An uneasy glare settles onto his face too. "General Wright is a good man," Sam says. His arms -- no, his whole body -- have begun to tremble uncontrollably as he struggles to contain his anger and shock. "He just wants to (link-reveal: "make America great.\"")[ Quinn laughs. "Make America great? By destroying the environment, fueling nuclear war, and imprisoning or killing anyone he doesn't like? Yeah, right." He shakes his head again, now out of disbelief. Sam could always read Quinn's emotions so well. When they were kids, he could always tell when Quinn was lying about being bullied -- and Sam always used to protect him from the bullies, even when Quinn insisted he didn't need help. Somewhere in the hurricane raging inside his mind, Sam can make out (link: "genuine remorse and sadness")[(show: ?betrayal) (color: blue)[genuine remorse and sadness]] over this situation -- two boys who were once so close that their minds and souls were united now grew into men on opposite sides of the same war. |betrayal)[Now they were enemies. The past did not matter. The past //does// not matter. //Quinn does not matter.// Yet why does that thought make Sam feel like he is sinking deeper into that dark ocean, the one that follows him around everywhere? (click-replace: "Yet why does that thought make Sam feel like he is sinking deeper into that dark ocean, the one that follows him around everywhere?")[(color: blue)[~~Yet why does that thought make Sam feel like he is sinking deeper into that dark ocean, the one that follows him around everywhere?~~] (color: red)[Quinn is no more. There's only Cydonia. A rebel, a seditionist, a criminal, a sinner, a communist, an anarchist, a homosexual, a colored, a cripple.] (link: "Cydonia.")[(text-colour: red)[Cydonia.] Sam steadies his gun and his expression. He says insistently, "Cydonia, you are under arrest for inciting insurrection against the government, promoting illegal behaviors--" "You can't be serious!" Cydonia seethes. "--evading the government, resisting arrest--" "After everything we've been through?" he asks desperately. "--breaking the New Sedition Act by purposefully playing banned music--" "Sam," he pleads, "listen to me. I know this isn't you! I don't know what they did to you, but I know you're better than this!" "--reading excerpts from banned books--" "//Sam//! Don't you remember? The night before I left? How can you do this to me when that's the last memory we have (link-reveal: "together?\"", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam finally stops. Cydonia has started crying now. How pathetic. He doesn't remember whatever memory Cydonia claims to have. He doesn't want to know. Something about the suggestion suffocates him. "Stop resisting," he says with a superficial calm, despite the rapids raging beneath the surface of his mind. "You're not going to the camps. You're going to the capital. General Wright will execute you himself. But not before you give us the locations of all your rebel friends. They'll be arrested too." Cydonia looks at him with an unreadable expression, tears still rolling down his face. Sam doesn't even try to understand it. Rebels don't deserve sympathy or empathy or any of those other liberal snowflake concepts that Cyd used to talk about on his show. //Finally// there would be peace with Cydonia and his show (link-reveal: "eliminated for certain.")[ Cydonia's body trembles with sobs. "You're not Sam," he repeats to himself. "You're not the Sam I loved." Sam grows more and more irritated. He turns off the safety of the gun and approaches the criminal. "This ends now," he says, grabbing Cydonia and forcing him to his feet. He practically collapses into Sam's arms, unable to stand on his own. (set: $doomsday_ending to 1) Sam puts him in handcuffs and drags him outside. [[Cydonia cries the whole time.->scene 12]]]]]]]]

Quinn shakes his head, this time out of disagreement and contempt. "Of course you would think that. You're a white man -- this dystopian hell just feels normal for you, I'm sure. The government isn't attacking and imprisoning and murdering //your// people." "What is this 'my people' 'your people' shit?" Sam asks angrily. "We're all people, are we not? We're all Americans." He puts his gun away, hoping that it can make his point get across more clearly. Quinn glares at Sam. "Well, we're not all //treated// like equal American people." He scoffs, "It's so easy for you to talk like this when you're all buddy-buddy with Wright now!" "Wright is a good man," Sam disagrees. He wants to elaborate, but (link-reveal: "Quinn doesn't let him.")[ "Is he? All he's done is wreak havoc -- destroy the environment, fuel global conflict, and imprison or kill anyone he doesn't like!" Sam wants to argue but finds that there's nothing he can say to prove Quinn wrong. He grimaces. This is just like when they were kids by the lakeshore, and Quinn would tell him the best bait to use or the best place to put the line in order to catch the most fish, and he was always right. Quinn excelled in matters of academics and intelligence, even though he struggled socially; Sam had always helped him in that regard, and Quinn had helped him with classwork in return. They were always a perfect pair. Somewhere in the hurricane raging inside his mind, Sam can make out genuine remorse and sadness over this situation -- two boys who were once so close that their minds and souls were united now grew into men on (link-reveal: "opposite sides of the same war.")[ "I don't blame Wright for his decisions," Sam says. "I may not entirely agree with his methods, but his motives are valid." "What?!" Quinn exclaims. Sam swallows back his strange feeling of guilt -- a feeling like being submerged in cold water. "Wright is just doing what's best for America. The non-believers will go to Hell if they don't convert to Christianity -- he's just trying to save them. And those homosexuals are unnatural -- that's why he's locking them up, to fix them." Quinn looks at him with an expression so hurt and shocked that Sam feels all the guilt coming back to him, rising around him and flooding his senses. "//How can you say that?//" Quinn asks, his voice soaked in betrayal. "How can you say that after what we've been through?" (link-reveal: "\"...What are you talking about?\"")[ Silence hangs over both of them, suffocating them. A million emotions seem to pass over Quinn's face at once -- shock, confusion, concern, realization, anguish. Sam himself feels nothing except the numbing waves in his head, the cold water. Eventually, Quinn finally manages to whisper, "You really don't remember?...What happened to you? What did they do to you?" He looks close to tears. Sam finds himself growing annoyed at Quinn's lack of specificity and his own lack of memory. Sometimes he did feel like certain chunks of his life were just missing from his memory, but he couldn't remember //why// he felt that way or //when// it started. He had never really noticed the absence until now, but now that he //had// noticed it, he couldn't stop. "No, I don't remember! (link-reveal: "What are you talking about?!\"")[ "The night before I moved away!" Quinn finally explains, "You kissed me and said you would always love me! How do you not remember?" Tears begin to trickle from his eyes now, though he hastily wipes them away. Sam feels numb and cold. >> [["...I did?"]] >> [["...No...No! You're lying!"]]]]]]

Sam is greeted by a wide smile and a clap on the back when he meets the General upon returning to the capital. "Congratulations, son!" Wright says, taking Sam's hand in his own for a rowdy handshake. Sam forces himself to nod and meet Wright's eyes, though truly his mind lost focus the second their hands made contact. Wright's strong grip and rough palm are driving Sam insane. His stomach twists with something like anxiety. It is the most intense feeling he's had in the several numbing days since arresting (link: "Quinn")[(color: blue)[~~Quinn~~] (color: red)[Cydonia]], and it immediately disappears when (link-reveal: "Wright releases his hand.")[ "Thanks to your arrest of Cydonia, we were able to take down the entire radio show network, and we're still catching new rebels every day. You've singlehandedly cleared the way for my next plans to go into effect," Wright continues, appreciation shining from his voice. Sam finds himself thinking he could get used to hearing that. "Now that the network in California, which was closer to our enemies in Asia, is gone, I can truly start our plan for global domination." (link-reveal: "\"Nuclear war,\"")[(show: ?war)] Sam says. His voice is a cold, blank slate, monotone. |war)["Exactly right," Wright says, happier than Sam has ever seen him. Sam has to wonder how many people will die because of Wright's actions; he has to wonder if Wright himself has ever stopped to think about it. The General clearly doesn't care. His smile reveals as much. Each crooked white tooth makes Sam think of Cydonia's final words, lambasting Wright for wreaking havoc and being horrible. (link-reveal: "Sam chooses to shut out those memories.")[ "I will stand by your side for all of it, sir," Sam swears, right hand over his heart. He thinks about the first missiles that will be launched soon. It makes him want to cry. But he'd rather be the one firing them than the one being fired at. "Good." Wright nods in approval. "Say, the public execution of that radio show rat is on Sunday. Do you want to be present in person? Maybe give a speech?" Sam plasters on a gracious smile. "I'm honored, sir, truly, but I'm afraid (link-reveal: "I'll have to turn down")[(show: ?ending)] that opportunity. I'll just watch the televised livestream from home." |ending)[He doesn't know why he refuses the offer. Or maybe somewhere deep, dark, inside him, he does know why. But he won't figure it out. Sam won't let the words escape past the murky depths of his subconscious. He won't ever ask, and he won't ever tell, and he will live with the absence of the realization. (set: $ending to "Doomsday (worst) ending") He doesn't know why, and he won't let himself find out. Not in this life. (link-reveal: "Not ever.")[ >> [[The end.]]]]]]]

Sam asks it as a question, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, he remembers (color: blue)[everything.] He finds the truth settling into that empty place inside him. A flood of forgotten, or rather (link-reveal: "//repressed//", (text-colour:blue))[(show: ?repressedmemories)], memories drowns him. |repressedmemories)[He remembers being 18, sneaking outside after dinner with Quinn and talking about what a beautiful night it was. He remembers carrying Quinn up to the rooftop, both of them laughing and sharing joy in their last day together. He remembers lying down side by side and looking up into the sky, stargazing as they talked about their feelings. He remembers Quinn holding his hand. He remembers looking over at Quinn and being overwhelmed with a sense of longing -- the only feeling in his life that had ever made sense -- and then leaning forward to kiss him -- the only impulse he had ever acted on. And then //everything// made sense. He remembers becoming depressed after Quinn left for California. He remembers his parents becoming concerned and sending him to summer camp. He remembers meetings with religious counselors and preachers who told over and over that he was a sinner, and the forest where he tried so many times to run away, and the water that they drowned him in, the electric shocks, the things that they did to torture him, to //fix// him. He remembers forgetting on purpose, swallowing it all back in blissful ignorance when he joined the military. He remembers everything, and he wants it to (link-reveal: "stop.")[ Sam doesn't even realize he's crying too until he tastes the salt of his tears. "I remember," he says, his voice hollow. "I remember everything now. Quinn, I'm so sorry." He begins to cry harder and covers his face out of some sort of trained embarrassment from crying as a man. "Oh, what did they do to you?" Quinn asks again pitifully. "At the camp, they..." Sam feels so sick and devestated that he can't even finish his sentence. His entire world has fallen apart, like a fragile old house ravaged by storms and torrents. "They //made// me forget." Quinn's eyes widen. He gasps, "Your parents sent you to conversion therapy?" Sam tries to nod, but his body shakes uncontrollably from his sobs. He can't remember the last time he cried like this, or cried at all. 10 years of bitterness and loneliness and confusion pour out of him all at once, so overwhelming and terrible that (link-reveal: "he can't handle it.")[ "I'm so sorry, Sam," Quinn says. Sam hears him crying too. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you." Sam finds himself thinking of General Wright, of how much he had fought for that man's approval. He thinks of all the authority figures in his life who he had sucked up to in order to gain their approval. His father, his school teachers, his commanding officer in the military. He had been fighting his whole life, and for what? For him to be ostracized anyway? He didn't choose to be gay. If he //could// choose, why would he pick the option that would ruin the delicately balanced life he had fought so hard to create for himself? He almost wishes that the conversion therapy had worked, that God had listened to his prayers. But then he looks into Quinn's deep, dark eyes and he sees into the soul of the only person who has ever truly //loved// him unconditionally and accepted him for who he was. (link-reveal: "How could he choose to give that up again?", (text-colour:blue))[ "You can stay with me, Sam. We can be together," Quinn says gently. "It'll be risky, but we can make it work. Please?" Sam finds himself wanting, praying, to say yes. "I need some time to think about this," he mumbles instead. "You know how to find me," Quinn says. He looks like he wants to say so much more but he refrains. (set: $doomsday_ending to 0) Sam nods and numbly walks away, out the building and back to his car. It's only once he's started driving away that he remembers he was supposed to arrest Cydonia. Through his confusing downpour of emotions, he finds that he's [[glad he didn't->scene 12]].]]]]

Sam glares at Quinn and pulls out his gun again. He can't believe it. How could he let himself fall for the rebel's tricks and lies like this? He should've known better -- Quinn is his former friend, but Cydonia is a wanted criminal, a leftist, a threat to society. Sam can't let himself be indoctrinated into his lies. Cydonia insists, "I'm telling the truth! How do you not remember? Did they...?" His eyes go wide as he has some realization. "Did your parents send you to conversion therapy after I moved away?" His anger is replaced with worry. >> [["There's nothing to convert me from! I'm normal!"]] >> [["..."->realization]]

Sam refuses to believe Cydonia's lies any longer. His life was a delicate balance he had fought hard to create and maintain, and he wouldn't let some filthy rebel destroy it all. He steadies his gun and his expression, and he insists, "Cydonia, you are under arrest for inciting insurrection against the government, promoting illegal behaviors--" "You can't be serious!" Cydonia seethes. "--evading the government, resisting arrest--" "After everything we've been through?" he asks desperately. "--breaking the New Sedition Act by purposefully playing banned music--" "Sam," he pleads, "listen to me. I know this isn't you! You're better than this!" "--reading excerpts from banned books--" "//Sam//! (link-reveal: "Please try to remember!\"", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam finally stops. Cydonia has started crying even harder now. How pathetic. Sam simply doesn't remember whatever Cydonia claimed to remember. He doesn't want to remember. Something about the suggestion suffocates him. "Stop resisting," he says with a superficial calm, despite the rapids raging beneath the surface of his mind. "You're not going to the camps. You're going to the capital. General Wright will execute you himself. But not before you give us the locations of all your rebel friends. They'll be arrested too." Cydonia looks at him with an unreadable expression, tears still rolling down his face. Sam doesn't even try to understand it. Rebels don't deserve sympathy or empathy or any of those other liberal snowflake concepts that Cyd used to talk about on his show. //Finally// there would be peace with Cydonia and his show (link-reveal: "eliminated for certain.")[ Cydonia's body trembles with sobs. "You're not Sam," he repeats to himself. "You're not the Sam I loved." Sam grows more and more irritated. He turns off the safety of the gun and approaches the criminal. "This ends now," he says, grabbing Cydonia and forcing him to his feet. He practically collapses into Sam's arms, unable to stand on his own. (set: $doomsday_ending to 1) Sam puts him in handcuffs and drags him outside. [[Cydonia cries the whole time.->scene 12]]]]

Sam can't speak. Quinn's words hit him as hard and as violently as a tsunami crashing onto the coast. And yet, as they echo in his mind, he finds them settling into that empty place inside him. He suddenly remembers (color: blue)[everything.] A flood of forgotten, or rather (link-reveal: "//repressed//", (text-colour:blue))[(show: ?repressedmemories)], memories drowns him. |repressedmemories)[He remembers being 18, sneaking outside after dinner with Quinn and talking about what a beautiful night it was. He remembers carrying Quinn up to the rooftop, both of them laughing and sharing joy in their last day together. He remembers lying down side by side and looking up into the sky, stargazing as they talked about their feelings. He remembers Quinn holding his hand. He remembers looking over at Quinn and being overwhelmed with a sense of longing -- the only feeling in his life that had ever made sense -- and then leaning forward to kiss him -- the only impulse he had ever acted on. And then //everything// made sense. He remembers becoming depressed after Quinn left for California. He remembers his parents becoming concerned and sending him to summer camp. He remembers meetings with religious counselors and preachers who told over and over that he was a sinner, and the forest where he tried so many times to run away, and the water that they drowned him in, the electric shocks, the things that they did to torture him, to //fix// him. He remembers forgetting on purpose, swallowing it all back in blissful ignorance when he joined the military. He remembers everything, and it's painful, and he wants it to (link-reveal: "//stop.//")[ His gun clatters to the ground as he clutches his head and staggers backward. "What?" he asks generally, maybe to God directly. "//Why?//" "Oh my God, Sam, I'm so sorry..." Quinn murmurs mournfully. "I had no idea. I didn't...I never thought they could do such a thing to their own //son//." Sam shakes his head. He can taste the saltiness of the tears streaming down his face, but he wipes them away out of shame, //shame// of the truth about himself that he knows now. //Everything makes sense now.// "No, they didn't even have to think about it. Because they didn't see me as their son in that moment." He meets Quinn's eyes. "It's like you said. As soon as they see that we're not 'normal'... they stop seeing us as human." "Us..." Quinn repeats quietly. (link-reveal:"\"//Homosexuals//,\"", (text-colour:blue))[(show: ?invitation)] Sam says even more quietly. |invitation)["It's not too late, Sam," Quinn urges softly. "You can still join us. The rebels, the misfits, the ones who aren't 'normal.'" Sam hesitates. "I need...time to think about this," he says. His entire world has fallen apart, like a fragile old house ravaged by storms. "You know how to find me," Quinn says. He looks like he wants to say so much more but he refrains. (set: $doomsday_ending to 0) Sam nods and picks up his gun before walking numbly back to his car. It's only once he's started driving away that he remembers he was supposed to arrest Cydonia. Through his confusing downpour of emotions, he finds that he's almost [[glad he didn't->scene 12]].]]]

Sam almost laughs, like the suggestion itself is comical. "I mean, we're both so different. I'm //normal//, and you're...um..." Quinn glares at him. "No, say it! (link-reveal: "What am I?\"", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, unsure of how to say phrase his words. He had never cared about offending leftists in the past, but for some reason he feels guilty when it comes to offending Quinn. "Um...you're...you're disabled." "What else?" Quinn stares him down, even though Sam tries to avoid meeting his eyes. "What else am I? I know there's more." "You're colored." His expression sours at this. "That's an outdated term. But, yes, I am a person of color. What else?" "Oh, come on, don't make me say it all," Sam complains. This was getting too uncomfortable for him. Quinn repeats, punctuating each word, (link-reveal: "\"What else am I?\"", (text-colour:blue))[ Sam sighs, "You're a...homosexual." Quinn sits back in his wheelchair. "There it is," he says with satisfaction, like he's proven something. "That's what I mean by 'us.'" Sam doesn't quite understand at first. A few seconds later, when it finally hits him what Quinn has just said, he laughs, "What? Surely you're not suggesting that we're..." He frowns now. "Look, Quinn, we were good friends back when we were kids, but it's been a //long// time since then. That was //10 years// ago. And I...I never thought (link-reveal: "you felt that way about me.\"")[ Sam feels strangely gross now, at the thought of Quinn being attracted to him. A specific memory suddenly flashes into his mind, a moment from so long ago that he had forgotten -- when he had convinced Quinn to try swimming in the lake, despite his paraplegia, and Quinn had clung onto him the whole time, shivering and afraid. Sam had held him, never letting go, never //wanting// to let go. He remembers the feeling of the cold water surrounding them, and the only source of warmth being each other's bodies. He shudders at the memory, full of shame. Again that absence of //something// aches inside him. Meanwhile, Quinn looks at Sam like he's the biggest idiot on God's green Earth. "Are you joking?" Quinn asks with a forced laugh. "You must be joking, right?" Sam shakes his head, and Quinn's expression transforms into one of concern and confusion. "What...what did they do to you? In these last 10 years?...Could you really forget...?" Sam feels himself growing irritated at Quinn's lack of specificity and his own lack of memory. "I don't know what you're talking about. Whatever it is, (link-reveal: "I don't remember it.\"")[ "The night before I moved," Quinn finally explains. He looks almost...sad, now. "You kissed me and said you loved me. You really don't remember?" "//What//?" Quinn's words hit Sam as hard and as violently as a tsunami crashing onto the coast. And yet, as they echo in his mind, he finds them settling into that empty place inside him. The (link-reveal: "repressed memories", (text-colour:blue))[(show: ?repressedmemories)] flood back all at once, almost painfully, drowning him. |repressedmemories)[He remembers being 18, sneaking outside after dinner with Quinn and talking about what a beautiful night it was. He remembers carrying Quinn up to the rooftop, both of them laughing and sharing joy in their last day together. He remembers lying down side by side and looking up into the sky, stargazing as they talked about their feelings. He remembers Quinn holding his hand. He remembers looking over at Quinn and being overwhelmed with a sense of longing -- the only feeling in his life that had ever made sense -- and then leaning forward to kiss him -- the only impulse he had ever acted on. And then //everything// made sense. He remembers becoming depressed after Quinn left for California. He remembers his parents becoming concerned and sending him to summer camp. He remembers meetings with religious counselors and preachers who told over and over that he was a sinner, and the forest where he tried so many times to run away, and the water that they drowned him in, the electric shocks, the things that they did to torture him, to //fix// him. He remembers forgetting on purpose, swallowing it all back in blissful ignorance when he joined the military. He remembers //everything//, and (link-reveal: "it hurts.")[ As Quinn watches him unravel, he asks pitifully, "Oh, Sam, what did they //do// to you?" "At the camp, they...//made me// forget." Sam feels so sick and devastated that he can't say anything else. His entire world has fallen apart, like a fragile old house ravaged by storms. Quinn's eyes widen. He gasps, "Your parents sent you to conversion therapy. I...I thought it was just a normal summer camp." Sam tries to nod, but his body shakes uncontrollably from his sobs. He can't remember the last time he cried like this, or cried at all. 10 years of bitterness and loneliness and confusion pour out of him all at once, so overwhelming and terrible that (link-reveal: "he can't handle it.")[ "I'm so sorry, Sam," Quinn says. Sam hears him crying too. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you." Despair fills Sam as he realizes what he is. A traitor, a sinner, a failure. His delicately balanced life is over. All those years he fought for others' approval, all wasted. And yet, through the despair, he finds it all making so much //sense//. "You can stay with me, Sam. We can be together," Quinn says gently. "It'll be risky, but we can make it work. Please?" Sam finds himself wanting, praying, to say yes. "I need some time to think about this," he mumbles instead. "You know how to find me," Quinn says. He looks like he wants to say so much more but he refrains. (set: $doomsday_ending to 0) Sam nods and numbly walks away, out the building and back to his car. It's only once he's started driving away that he remembers he was supposed to arrest Cydonia. Through his confusing downpour of emotions, he finds that he's [[glad he didn't->scene 12]].]]]]]]]

Quinn looks at him like he's an idiot -- Sam was familiar with the look. He elaborates to defend himself, "I mean, we used to be good friends as kids, but that was so long ago. It's been //10 years//. There's...nothing between us anymore." "10 years is all it took for you to forget?" Quinn spits. "Because I never forgot." (link-reveal: "\"Forget what?\"")[(show: ?reveal)] Sam asks, increasingly irritated. |reveal)["The night before I moved away?" Quinn says, as if he expects that to ring any bells. However, Sam remembers nothing from that night -- which is strange, because he would expect himself to have more memories of his final moments with his former best friend. He feels it again, that crucial absence of //something// inside him. Quinn sighs frustratedly, "Did it really mean that //little// to you?" "I don't...remember it," Sam says, frowning. He tries so hard to reach into the depths of his mind and pull out those memories, but they always slip from his grasp, like reaching into the ocean water for a small rock on the floor and coming away with only wet sand. It's almost as if there's a barrier around his memories, like (link-reveal: "he has locked them away from himself.")[ "You really...forgot...our kiss?" A million emotions seem to pass over Quinn's face at once -- shock, confusion, concern, realization, anguish. His eyes widen as he finally says, "Wait -- when your parents sent you away after I left -- did they send you to...conversion therapy?" "//What?//" No sooner than when the exclamation leave his mouth does Sam realize the truth. Quinn's words echo in his mind, and he finds them settling into that empty place inside him. Suddenly, he remembers (color: blue)[everything.] (link-reveal: "A flood of forgotten, //repressed//, memories drowns him.", (text-colour:blue))[ He remembers being 18, sneaking outside after dinner with Quinn and talking about what a beautiful night it was. He remembers carrying Quinn up to the rooftop, both of them laughing and sharing joy in their last day together. He remembers lying down side by side and looking up into the sky, stargazing as they talked about their feelings. He remembers Quinn holding his hand. He remembers looking over at Quinn and being overwhelmed with a sense of longing -- the only feeling in his life that had ever made sense -- and then leaning forward to kiss him -- the only impulse he had ever acted on. And then //everything// made sense. He remembers becoming depressed after Quinn left for California. He remembers his parents becoming concerned and sending him to summer camp. He remembers meetings with religious counselors and preachers who told over and over that he was a sinner, and the forest where he tried so many times to run away, and the water that they drowned him in, the electric shocks, the things that they did to torture him, to //fix// him. He remembers forgetting on purpose, swallowing it all back in blissful ignorance when he joined the military. He remembers everything, and (link-reveal: "it's painful.")[ He clutches his head and staggers backward. "What?" he asks generally, maybe to God directly. "//Why?//" "Oh my God, Sam, I'm so sorry..." Quinn murmurs mournfully. "I had no idea. I didn't...I never thought they could do such a thing to their own //son//." Sam shakes his head. He can taste the saltiness of the tears streaming down his face, but he wipes them away out of shame, //shame// of the truth about himself that he knows now. //Everything makes sense now.// "No, they didn't even have to think about it. Because they didn't see me as their son in that moment." He meets Quinn's eyes. "It's like you've said on your show. As soon as they see that we're not 'normal'... they stop seeing us as human." "Us..." Quinn repeats quietly. (link-reveal:"\"//Homosexuals//,\"", (text-colour:blue))[(show: ?invitation)] Sam says even more quietly. |invitation)["It's not too late, Sam," Quinn urges softly. "You can still join us. The rebels, the misfits, the ones who aren't 'normal.'" Sam hesitates. "I need...time to think about this," he says. His entire world has fallen apart, like a fragile old house ravaged by storms. He can't stop the tears now -- he can't remember the last time he cried like this, or cried at all. 10 years of bitterness and loneliness and confusion pour out of him all at once, so overwhelming and terrible that he can't handle it. "You know how to find me," Quinn says. He looks like he wants to say so much more but he refrains. (set: $doomsday_ending to 0) Sam nods and tries to calm himself down before walking numbly back to his car. It's only once he's started driving away that he remembers he was supposed to arrest Cydonia. Through his confusing downpour of emotions, he finds that he's [[glad he didn't->scene 12]].]]]]]

{(set: $trust to $trust - 1)}As soon as the words leave his mouth, Sam realizes how stupid he sounds. He can't even think of any way to explain himself. "//Ran away//?" Wright asks derisively. Sam is beginning to hate that coarse, aggressive voice. "Isn't he a cripple?" "Cyd is paraplegic, yes," Sam says, cringing. "How could he run away? He can't even stand!" Wright roars. "You're either lying, son, or you're just (link-reveal: "stupid.", (text-colour: red))[(show: ?stupid)] Which is it?!" |stupid)[Sam frowns. He is overwhelmed with memories of similar situations -- floods of memories had been happening to him often now -- like his commanding officer calling him stupid for failing a drill, his 11th grade teacher calling him stupid for not understanding a geometry lesson, his father calling him stupid for not reeling in the fish properly when he first started learning. He hated that feeling of being seen as inferior, as lesser than. And he realized now that it was his fate, his genetics, his bad luck, since he was born a disappointment all the same. "I suppose I'm just stupid, sir," he says, swallowing back his frustration. "I'm sorry." //And I'm not your son.// "Whatever," Wright grumbles. "At least now we know that he can be tracked down, and we know what he looks like. I'll let [[the Department of Homeland Security->wwiii]] take it from here."]

{(set: $trust to $trust + 1)}Sam explains what really happened as close to the truth as he can get without revealing the full truth -- that Cydonia was his best friend, Quinn. "When I arrived, Cydonia already had a gun of his own and he caught me off guard. I had to escape to save my own life, and I wouldn't have been able to capture the rebel without killing him. I didn't want to do that, since I knew you wanted him alive. So I figured the best, and really only, course of action was to leave and try again a different time." Wright contemplates this for a few seconds before sighing and saying, "Well, that's what happens when you don't take back-up. You should have listened to me." "I'm sorry, sir," Sam says, cringing. "Whatever," Wright says dismissively. "At least now we know that he can be tracked down, and we know what he looks like. I'll let [[the Department of Homeland Security->wwiii]] take it from here."

"Wait, so...my job is done?" Sam asks. He tries not to sound as panicked as he feels. "Your job in California is done, yes," the General says. "Even though you failed to catch Cydonia, I'm transferring you out of there." Sam's heart sinks. (link-reveal: "\"I have...other plans for you.\"", (text-colour: red))[ "May I know what they are, sir?" He finds it difficult to remain polite when all he really wants to do is shout insults at Wright and then throw his phone out of a window and (link_reveal: "drive away to--")[ "I'm declaring war soon," General Wright says calmly, or at least much more calmly than Sam would have expected such a statement to be. (link-reveal: "\"What?\"")[ "We'll launch the first nukes very soon." >> [[scared response]] >> [[impressed response]]]]]

{(set: $trust to $trust - 1)}Sam feels like he is about to collapse. He grabs onto his desk and sits in his chair. His eyes have gone wide and his mouth agape. He manages only to stammer, "W...wha--why?" "Why?" Wright scoffs. "Because we're the strongest country in the world! And we'll prove it by taking over all those countries that oppose us!" "But...nukes?" Sam mumbles. He can vividly imagine Cyd live-reacting to this information on his show. "What about (link: "mutually assured destruction?\"")[(show: ?mad)] he asks more clearly. |mad)["Oh, we don't have to worry about that," Wright assures. "You may have heard that I've been diverting a lot of government funds to the military. Well, let's just say they were doing a little...project, you could call it, to develop new and improved nuclear weapons. We have a whole arsenal of them now -- completely secret. They're faster, stealthier, and even more deadly. The old ones destroyed just the city Hiroshima? These ones can wipe out the entire Japanese island chain in one go." His voice smears with smugness and pride. "They won't even know what's hit 'em, and they sure as hell won't have time to fire back before they're all dead." Sam feels physically unwell. He is (link-reveal: "unable to respond.")[ "Why so hesitant?" Wright asks tauntingly. "So many people will //die//," Sam says, his emotions leaking into his speech. He tries to repress them again. Wright laughs mockingly. "Who cares?! It's war! That's just how it is. Say, since when were you so //soft//, son?" //Soft.// Sam fights the urge to vomit. //If only Wright knew the truth. How //[[soft->end branch]]// would Sam be then?//]]

{(set: $trust to $trust + 2)}"Oh, really?" Sam asks pleasantly, trying to mask his fear about the possibility of a global nuclear conflict. Was Wright really not worried about mutually assured destruction? Wright responds, "You may have heard that I've been diverting a lot of government funds to the military. Well, let's just say they were doing a little...project, you could call it, to develop new and improved nuclear weapons. We have a whole arsenal of them now -- completely secret. They're faster, stealthier, and even more deadly. The old ones destroyed just the city Hiroshima? These ones can wipe out the entire Japanese island chain in one go." His voice smears with smugness and pride. "They won't even know what's hit 'em, and they sure as hell won't have time to fire back before they're all dead." Sam had heard about such a project taking place, but he didn't have the details since he wasn't involved, and he had been so preoccupied with finding Cydonia anyway. "Wow, that's...impressive," he lies, truly terrified at the idea. [["You don't sound very impressed,"->end branch]] Wright scoffs.

(if: $trust >= 5)[(goto: "good ending")] (else:)[(goto: "bad ending")]

"I apologize if it came off that way, sir," Sam says, trying desperately to keep his voice cool and level. "If we are to declare war, I promise to stand with you and support you the entire way." "That's what I like to hear," Wright says. "So you'll (link-reveal: "join me", (text-colour: red))[(show: ?defecting)] in my cabinet?" |defecting)["Well..." Sam scrambles to think of a lie. "Actually, I was thinking that... it might be better if I stayed in California. I'm confident that I'll be able to catch Cydonia on my own, without the chumps in Homeland Security. I want a second shot at it." Sam's heart pounds so loud in his chest as he keeps speaking, he's afraid Wright can hear it. "Plus, there's still so many rebels left to arrest. After Cydonia is taken down, there's still all of his cronies and subordinates. I want to help cull them all too." Wright stays silent for an extra moment too long, and Sam begins reciting prayers in his mind as he thinks these are his last minutes alive. Surely, Wright can tell that he's lying-- Surely, Wright is thinking about executing him now-- Surely, Wright has figured out he's a (link-reveal: "filthy traitor--")[ "Hell, why not?" Wright's voice comes in through the phone. "You're right. I can't move on to the next steps in my plans for world war until the rebel network in the West is completely eradicated." Sam almost drops his phone in shock. "You can stay in California for however long that takes. And after that, I want you back here in the capital." Sam nods before remembering Wright can't see him. "Yes, of course, sir!" But it's a lie, just like everything before it. Sam isn't going to eradicate the rebel network; Sam isn't going to return to the capital. Sam is going (link: "home.")[[[back to Quinn.->back to Quinn.]]]]]

"I have to say, I don't like the way you've been talking these days," Wright begins, sounding like he's gearing up to something. "California's changed you. You've started saying things I don't like. I can't have that. I only want the most capable and loyal Americans on my side." Wright's voice takes a more menacing turn, low and rough like gravel. "I-- I am very capable and loyal, sir, I promise!" Sam says. He hopes (link-reveal: "the fear pounding through him,")[(show: ?disapproval)] the adrenaline pulsing in his veins, is not obvious. |disapproval)[Wright scoffs, "You've given me a lot of reasons to think otherwise, son." Disapproval seeps into his words. Sam's blood runs cold. "I sent you on this job to make sure I could trust you, and... well, you've let me down." Panic seizing him, Sam begins to beg, "Please, sir, I promise I'm--" But Wright cuts him off with a shushing sound. "Save your breath, boy. You'll need it." (link-reveal: "\"What?\"")[ At that moment, Sam hears the front door of his room crack open. "I sent a few of my Secret Service agents to... check on you," Wright explains as Sam turns around slowly. "It was just a precaution at first, really. I didn't expect to have to use them. But... you've given me reason to believe you're a //traitor//, and if I can't trust you, then I have to get rid of you." Two Secret Service agents stand in the doorway to Sam's room, guns drawn and pointed at Sam. //They're waiting for Wright to finish speaking,// Sam thinks. He looks around for his own gun, further away from him on his desk, but there's no point. If he moves, he'll surely be shot. "I'm sure you understand," Wright says. "This is necessary to create the great America that I envision. Some sacrifices must be made in the name of our holy land." Sam lets out a shaky exhale. The phone weighs heavy in his hand like a death sentence, like the stones thrown at sinners. "This is just how it has to be, (link-reveal: "son.\"", (text-colour: red))[ Sam swallows back whatever fear he still has. All his miserable life he's been hiding and running away. From the fear of disappointing the expectations of the people he respects, from the truth of himself and his identity, from his own memories. But there's nowhere to run anymore. This is the final judgment, the day of wrath. //It's time to be brave,// Quinn's voice as Cydonia echoes in Sam's mind. //Take a stand.// No more running. "I'm not your son," is (link-reveal: "the last thing Sam says.")[(show: ?death)] He removes the phone from his ear and ends the call, tossing the device to the ground. |death)[Two bullets fire right at his chest -- he hears the instant cracking sound of the gunpowder before he actually feels any pain. They tear into him, ripping through the layers of his skin and flesh and blood, burning it all to burrow a hole inside his heart. Sam keeps his chin held up high, even as he falls to his knees and his blood spills out of him. This is his end. Time has wasted him. And though his death will be for nothing, he still has hope for a better future. He says a prayer for all the rebels still out there and for the people in the concentration camps and for the prisoners awaiting their rigged trials and for the poor citizens struggling to breathe and eat and survive. For everyone in America and the world, for all the lives that will be claimed by nuclear weapons, for all the lives that have already been taken. And for (link-reveal: "Quinn.")[ Sam smiles at the mere thought of Quinn, even as his life slips away from him. He wishes Quinn was here to watch over him, his guardian angel to whisper reassurances in his ears and to close his eyelids when he finally dies. He wishes Quinn was here to hold his hand and tell him he did as best as he could. He wishes Quinn was here to give him one final kiss. (set: $ending to "Bad ending") Sam's pain fades away. The world becomes a blur, a single brushstroke, no defined details. His time is over. Quinn is not here. But it's okay. They will see each other again some day -- when they are once again on the same side, (link-reveal: "reunited in the afterlife.")[ >> [[The end.]] ]]]]]]

<h1>M.A.D.</h1> Mutually Assured Destruction. Your ending: $ending Made by Adexia on itch.io [[Play again->start]]

Sam's first decisive action is to rid himself of anything associated with the government he is now spurning. He leaves his lodgings, ditches his phone, abandons his car, throws out his credit card. Anything that can be traced back to him, that can be traced by Wright, is disposed of. He knows how to find people. How knows what goes through the minds of the people who work for Wright when they look for people. He knows that anyone who does look for him in the future will easily be able to figure out that he deserted. He just needs to make sure that they can't figure out where he's actually //gone//. Sam takes great pains to disguise his actions and get rid of his items in such a way that would be confusing to someone looking for him. When he finally has nothing except a stack of cash and the clothes on his back, he has a taxi take him to a gas station near (link-reveal: "Cydonia's hideout")[(show: ?reunitedwcyd)], and he walks the rest of the way there. |reunitedwcyd)[Quinn is expecting him, just like last time, ready at the door. When Sam opens it and sees him, they both stand there in silence for a moment. Quinn wears different jewelry than when Sam had seen him in their previous confrontation, but he wears that same fond expression on his face. The lean muscles of his arms, exposed by his tank-top, flex as he holds himself up with a pair of crutches. Sam thinks he looks... handsome. Part of Sam is still disgusted with himself for thinking this way, unable to accept that he's truly queer. The other, larger part of him hums with (link-reveal: "contentment.")[ "Sam," Quinn says plainly. His voice is so viscous, like honey or melted chocolate, that it's as if it slows everything down, even time. "You're back." Sam allows his actions to speak for him. He steps forward and wraps his arms around Quinn's narrow frame in a tight hug. Quinn catches his breath in surprise, and he struggles to return the embrace around his crutches. If Sam had any doubts before about ending his loyalties to Wright's government, they all melt away now. The embrace is so warm, sending a tingling sensation throughout his body -- when was the last time he hugged someone? It's been years, maybe -- and the two of them fit together so perfectly. Sam could cry. He thinks (link-reveal: "his eyes do tear up.")[ After they pull away from each other, Sam helps hold Quinn up and return the crutches to his grasp. Quinn smiles at him, eyes shining with tears and hope. "Are you going to... stay with me?" Sam nods and clears his throat so he doesn't start crying. "I'm defecting to your side. Wright is--" His voice catches. He pauses to collect himself despite his overwhelming tidal wave of emotions. Quinn strokes his cheek. That physical touch alone makes Sam feel warm inside, and he finds the strength to continue. "Wright is planning to wage a world war. He wants to use these new, stronger nuclear weapons that he had developed. They're more deadly than anything that's been used in the past, and--" He's not strong enough. Crumbling apart, Sam begins to cry, and Quinn uses one arm to hold him close, while the other still clutches onto his crutch. "It's okay, it's okay," Quinn whispers into his hair, and even though they both know that's a lie, (link-reveal: "Sam takes comfort in it anyway.")[ "I know this is probably bad timing, but..." Quinn says, "I've been in love with you for, like, 15 years." They both laugh, but it quickly fades. Sam buries his face in the dark tresses of Quinn's hair. "I think I was...you know...too, before... well...," he mumbles. "Before the converstion therapy torture," Quinn finishes the sentence for him. "Yeah." They hold each other in silence for another long moment. Sam reflects on the past almost 3 decades of his life. All the time he wasted trying to live up to the expectations of other people, trying desperately to (link-reveal: "fit himself into the mold of the perfect American man. ")[ Here, in Quinn's arms, he realizes the difference between (color: red)[//fitting in//] and (color: blue)[(link-reveal: "//belonging.//")[(show: ?goodending)]] |goodending)["We will take Wright down," Quinn promises. "We will save this country." Sam struggles to truly have hope. He knows how powerful Wright and his army of soldiers and weaponry is, how organized and loyal they all are. Fear is a powerful motivator -- it kept Sam in line for so long -- and Wright leads with an iron fist for that reason. But Quinn's voice is so full of not only hope but determination. There is no fear, no wavering, no questioning. He is so much braver than Sam ever was. "I'll help you," Sam promises earnestly. (set: $ending to "Good ending") //At least, no matter what happens//, he thinks, //I will die fighting alongside the man I// (link_reveal: "//love.//")[ >> [[The end.]] ]]]]]]]