The Pseudo-Chronicles of Mark Huntley

Miles to Go - 11/14/04

Sunday, November 14, 2004

Reporting in from the middle of America. Picture a nondescript but cozy internet cafe, nestled in among farmland and big-box chain stores. It’s not Ohio, but let’s call it Ohio, all right?

So far, so good, for our efforts to avoid the attention of the purples. Though I don’t know if our “disguises” are worth a damn. We’re still a white guy and a black girl, and if they’ve started circulating a search for us… that narrows it down somewhat. Particularly in certain corn-fed areas. But surely the police can’t pull over every car with passengers matching that description, can they? There’s got to be millions… right? (Cue my desperate hope for a nationwide surge in interracial dating.)

I've seen purples seeded in towns and cities and middle-of-nowheres throughout our journey. All of them thankfully at enough distance that I didn’t even have to think about springing out that old dicer. I see them working at local businesses. Coming out of local churches—sometimes with priest collars! Gathered in local cafes and diners. Talking, spreading lies. Feeding the chaos.

I have a feeling some of them have been in place for a long time. Waiting for the master plan to kick into action.

So, duh. I knew that this was happening. But it still comes as a shock to see it, you know? To process that the U.S. of A. you thought you knew from birth really never was. I still believe in what I told Rence that night as we lay awake— that our individual experiences are our own— but lo what a Potemkin nation our little feet walk through!

We’ve been trying to take back roads when we can. To stay away from the big cities, where the purples could be more concentrated and wield more power. I mean, we’re not in a huge hurry to get to where we’re going—better to be slow and cautious than get nabbed.

Not that I’d let them do that. I don’t want to speak for Naomi, but… I’ll kill myself before I let them take me in. Hell, I’d been on the verge of doing it anyway. I wouldn’t flinch at the task if I had a real compelling reason in the moment. 

So anyway. Back roads when we can swing it. On the unbeaten path. Some of the smaller towns, especially, that we pass through, we can see how quickly the social order is disintegrating. Thanks to National Eagle Eye, and all that happy horseshit. And the government is joyfully stoking the flames.

Did you catch Bush’s now-iconic “Terror wears many faces” speech not long ago? The one that implicated not just Islamic terror groups, but far-left and far-right American political splinter groups as well? And even—gulp—other hard-core religious groups too, including Christian groups? I never thought I’d see the day when Dubya would take a dump on anyone who claimed to believe in the Jeebus, but… it’s happened. Why doesn’t everyone see through this?

Meaning that when it comes to terrorism smear campaigns, now people can accuse more than “just” their neighbors with brown skin. Now they can fucking accuse everyone.

Earlier today, we passed through a town that I’ll say was in western Pennsylvania. Anytown, PA. We saw multiple houses burned to the ground—any guesses as to why? Perhaps a bit of unfounded suspicion that spiraled out of control? Yeah. We saw suspicion carved in hard lines into almost every face in Anytown. And a shit ton of people openly carrying guns, because that always tones down a dangerous situation.

It was scary, but sadly, not atypical. We’ve traveled through a bunch of places with a close resemblance to Anytown, PA so far on our trip, and I imagine they’re just going to multiply.

I wonder, is it like that in New England? Is it like that in Manchester, New Hampshire, right now? Is the West Side burning?

That’s right. My heart hasn’t turned completely to stone. I think about my parents a lot. I wish I could call them. Even more than that, I wish I could verify that the silver security detail protecting my mom and dad up in New England is still intact. I hope so, since they're far outside the shitstorm that flew through D.C.