They had sought to kill me, and at first, I didnít know why.
It was clear enough, their intentions, but no one heeded the warning signs. Not even me.
First, there was the constant watching. Yes, they watched my every move. At first it was subtle, then, not so subtle. In fact, it got to be outrageous, but no one still would believe it. I had been chosen. No one told me.
Once, they even suggested that I was a hard man to kill with that wicked smile on their faces. Could it possibly be, no, not here in America. Not with everyone watching. It just couldn't happen here. Not here. Not in my America. What ever happened to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness? Now, that didnĎt apply to me? I was a joke.
Things had gotten so desperate, I couldn't even go outside without people laughing at me and taunting me relentlessly. Why? People were angry at me, and I wasn't exactly sure why, at first. Surely, surely, the why was important wasn't it? After all, I had done nothing wrong. In fact, and without any doubt, I was the good guy. That was a simple fact. So why all the hate? Even inside the sanctity of my girlfriend's small apartment, they taunted me FROM OUTSIDE. They were the citizens of America. All races were guilty too. You should see that gleaming hungry look in their eyes. Its like a wolf who has eaten for a week -- starving, craving, salivating Ö Need I say more?
Obviously, it was because of the stalking GAME. Yes, that had to be it. Either that, or an alien race had infiltrated the minds of Earthlings in North America and brainwashed them into hating me. No, that couldn't be. Not possible I told myself. It was simple: big business was out to get me and the government was helping them. I was sad. So sad because the government I had loved and supported, both in uniform and out, had stood by while big business had tried to murder me for fun and entertainment. It just couldn't happen in America, could it?
Once, after years of stalking, I had to flee my home state. Yes, they had stalked me in the state where I lived with my lovely little family. I had left after it was clear I couldn't make a living. The local government even made some weak excuses for not giving me federally mandated unemployment. I had even heard some guy making a bet on how long I would last before the company got me. The company was big, a giant even by today's standards and they were very important too. The made the newest and finest space shuttles used for the colonization of Mars. And now, their shuttles could reach even further. The company founder, (Wild) Bill Collins was the second richest man alive. He was a sneaky lowlife snake who had mountains of money and no heart. You can imagine the type. All three of his kids hated his guts. No wonder. That's right, his company and friends were tracking my movements. No one cared.
My family was powerless to help me against such a giant. Such bullies. People looked at me as if I was already dead, and once, a woman said, "What a waste!" When it was clear that I had no where to go, after all, the company had sworn to get me. Somebody very important wanted me annihilated. Often, I wondered if it was someone who wanted my pretty wife. Kill the man, take his wife -- an old American national habit conceived in the Native American and slave days. Or was it just a fun game for some big business men who needed something to make them feel alive. Were they just having a little fun hunting a man? I didnít know. Maybe even, a billionaire or two (like Wild Bill) were playing the deadly game. Making $1 bets to see how long a strong man could last before they broke him. Who knows -- you can never tell about people.
No one could help and for some time, I thought no one cared. After all, who wants to get in the path of big business. Bullies like that, just rolled right over ordinary every day citizens. For years they ran everything and even controlled the political leaders. It had been this way for a long time. Now, they were showing their power and I was the example. My life was reduced to an example for a few big shots who wanted to demonstrate their power. I had no where to turn. No escape.
I decided since they were hunting me, I should return home to my family -- a mistake. They had used my wife to lure me back to the original scene of the crime. There the original hunters would have more control over me. They really seemed to get off on control. I heard this lady say, "Why is that man going back? He wonít last a month before they kill him. Itís a shame. He's crazy to go back."
You should have seen the looks on the peoples faces. They knew I was doomed. Murder by torture. What a hard, cruel way for a man to go. Every one was staring. When I got back, the company's men, well, the friends of the company, were controlling me. Yes, control the manís job and you control him. A shame really. It was terrible -- even in America.
What I didnít know was that my loving wife of 14 years had been corrupted. That's right, corrupted and controlled. Probably, she had been sexually compromised also, you know, turned out. The company was pulling all the strings. I guess they had simply threatened to make her and my kids homeless. Ruin a manís family, ruin the man. These company men needed something to do for fun. After all, it had been a long time since private companies had gained total control of Americans. A sacrifice (Throw Away American - TAA) here and there, who would object if it wasn't them personally? No one. Even if they did, what could they do? The companies owned the press, the law, the politicians, and everyone's job and the future. Sacrifice some poor fool every year and the blood thirst of the company men would be satisfied.
But, I was the exception -- a total freak. Yes, I had lasted longer than any other man. Ten times as long in fact. I had lasted over ten years. The record for the company's game. The American record in fact. The closest any man had gotten to my record was three and a half years. Some man had lasted that long. What a wimp. I had lasted three times as long. You have to realize, when you are selected for the game, they amputate your hands if you last longer than a year.
That's right, they cut them off.
Afterward, you are allowed to continue if you chose or you can be instantly put to death. A mysterious pill shows up and all you have to do is swallow it. POW-your heart stops. Most chose to be put to death. About 30 percent continued after the amputation. Amputees are given clumsy false mechanical hands. They are the inferior robotic hands and are good for only the most basic of functions. This makes the hunt more fun.
Almost all of them, the TAAs, are extremely intelligent, religious, and mentally strong American men who love life. Most are outdoors men in fact. Christian men who hate to be caged. Men who would try to help Ďanybodyí if they needed it. For some reason, men with these qualifications last longer in the game. Only strong men are selected in the first place to make the game more fun. You have to realize, the more the man struggles, the more fun the game is. If the man can find a way to smile, the hearts of the hunters are crushed.
The president of each company nominates one person per year. That's just the way the game has evolved. Realize, almost 100% of the male employees don't have to worry. After all, what are the chances you will be selected for the game. Very slim. Evidently, one of Wild Billís company presidents nominated me to gain favor (and probably promotion) from Wild Bill. I was Wild Billís fourth victim and 80 year old Bill was very grateful.
Well, my loving family didnít want me around. What was the use? I was doomed. Why should I take them down with me? By now, the whole country was tired of me surviving and no one knew why the company had selected me. I was just terribly unlucky. I was an outcast, a piranha. No one cared why now. No one but me. I endured. I wanted everyone to know why. You have to understand, everybody knew, and nobody knew. Everybody knew I was being stalked and nobody knew why. The population as a whole was brainwashed and kept in the dark. Simply put, the victim, was made to look stupid, unattractive, and incompetent. Understand, the whole idea behind the obscene hands was to make the person ugly. Understand? He was branded and everyone could instantly tell who he was.
I had used my brain, to write. I wrote books and got them published under a pseudonym and that kept me going. For years, I endure the hate of the American people. Why? That was for me to know. True, I had married a pretty black woman, but I was not the first white man to do that. That wasn't it. Well, maybe a small contributing factor. The poor folks really loved the game. I think they falsely believed the game gave them power. In fact, they had none. Millions of people who gang up on one man -- that's not power, its cowardice.
I had of course, taken the thrill of the hunt away. I was bigger and stronger, both physically and emotionally, than most of them. I made the hunt hard for them. The black men loved hunting me. Retribution for the slave days no doubt. The Hispanic men and women, as well as most yellow skinned people of Earth loved hunting me. Understand, they had their reasons too. The oriental people of America had a lot of fun with me. They were exempt from the hunt. Probably because of China. Everyone feared China and many thought we would soon be speaking Chinese. After all, hunting a man of another race was OK. Even one of the same race, after all, every one does it. My own people wanted me the most. Its part of the game.
Don't get me wrong. My wife was strong, smart, and patient at first. She endured much to try the impossible: to hold on to her family. But, the constant pressure of the company was simply too great. You must realize, the community, friends, and relatives all put pressure on the spouse to leave. It is all very convenient. Even love can't stand up to the formidable obstacles the company puts in a family's path. The whole idea is to separate the man from his family. This tactic alone, will break most men. Once the man is separated from his family, no woman, even processional working women, will not the man. It is all about the power of isolation.
The first years away from my family were the hardest. Not having my daughter and two son around was incredibly difficult. At first, my mind longed for their hugs. I urged and urged them to visit me, but to no avail. It was all for the best, I guess. If they associated with me, they would be treated harshly by the hunters. Distance was a good thing here. No guilt by association. No discrimination and less brainwashing. I knew it was for the best, but still -- it was the greatest torture of all. Finally, I let them go for their own good, but it took many miserable, longing years.
It had been a long time since the companies had gained total control of Americans. A sacrifice here and there, who would object if it wasn't them personally? No one. Some poor fool every year and the blood thirsty of the company men would be satisfied.
I had used my brain to write. I wrote books and got them published under a pseudonym and that kept me going. I had to use many clever, devious, shrewd tricks to sneak them past the watchers. Let me explain something. There were two kinds of watchers. The amateur watchers who are the poor everyday folk who play the game for fun and the Business Organization of Freelance Union Killers (BOFUKs) who worked every day to drive the TAA to suicide, stroke, heart attack or better yet, insane. Insanity was the preferred solution. It didnít matter whether the man was insane or not, if he acted insane the companies won. Understand, the fun of the game was that the company men made bets to see who could pick the closes date to their victory. If the TAA suddenly came out of his insanity, he was put to death -- by accident. They couldn't just shoot the TAAs - that would ruin the game and it was highly illegal. Besides, only the rich were allowed to own guns. The fun was in the creativity of the hunt anyway.
For years I endure the hate of the American people. Why? That was for me to know. True, I had married a pretty black woman, but I was not the first white man to do that. That wasn't it. Well, maybe a small contributing factor. The poor folks really loved the game. I think it gave them power. I had of course, taken all that away. I was bigger and stronger, both physically and emotionally, than most of them. I made the hunt hard for them. The black men love hunting me. The Hispanic men and women, as well as most yellow skinned people of Earth loved hunting me. The oriental people of America had a lot of fun with me. After all, hunting a man of another race was OK. Even one of the same race, after all, every one does it. Its part of the game.
Someone had told me it was because the other company men were jealous of my abilities. I had heard this repeatedly over the years. And yes, that was the reason. You see the company leaders were the sons of the rich. No longer could you get to the upper class by working hard, making music, or being an athlete. Your family had to be rich already. It had been this ways for two centuries already. America had become an isolationist socialist society 250 years ago and cared little what the rest of the world did or thought. No country could challenge her militarily and terrorism had been extinguished 320 years earlier.
In a way, over the last decade, I had saved at least three men's lives. True enough, it had been pure torture, but let me state it simply. A man, especially a flexible-tough man, can get used to anything: the hate, the scorn, the looks, the physical abuse. Anything.
Anyway, they shouldn't have selected a stubborn old warrior like me anyway. After all, I am a Scorpio. The truth was, I just hated bullies.