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Underground eXperts United File 423
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Underground eXperts United
Presents...
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[ Modus Operandi ] [ By The GNN ]
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MODUS OPERANDI
by THE GNN/DualCrew-Shining/uXu
16 June 1988. Me and Bill plotted the route while drinking beer at a sleazy
bar downtown. God, we were pretty drunk that evening. Yet we managed to plan
the whole operation, from beginning to the end. The next day we stole a car
and hit the road.
17-24 June 1988. It never seize to amaze me how much energy God managed to
squeeze into little children. Bill operated the camera at all times. I
covered his back the best I could. If someone spotted us, it would all be
ruined. As far as I could tell, no one ever did.
25 June 1988. We better lay low for a while. We dumped the car far away and
took the train back home. I examined the tapes as soon as we got back.
Wonderful material.
28 July 1988. Bill is restless and wants to move on with the plan as quick
as possible. I keep tell him that we must keep calm. If we rush things it
will all fail. Bill knows he does not have to wait forever. The summer is
soon over, and we have not got much time. I have edited the material we
collected. The tape is around fourteen seconds, containing seven sequences.
Bill has begun to work with the explosives.
4 August 1988. We shot the last sequence today. Early in the morning, we
buried the bomb deep down in the sandbox. We had to work as fast as
possible. This was the grand finale. The whole operation would fail if we
fucked this up. But we did not. The body plunged all over the playing field,
yet we could cover up all tracks in less than a minute. No one saw us. We
cheered as we watched the film. I edited the whole tape the same evening.
The movie is ready. Sixteen seconds, eight sequences. But now we must lay
low for quite some time. We have all the time in the world.
5 August 1988. Media is silent concerning the explosion. Excellent.
7 August 1988. Still silent. We made it. No one ever noticed.
10 July 1989. Time to hit the road again. We quickly found a car. Of course,
the stupid son of a bitch had stashed the map from last summer at a 'very
safe place', which now turned out to be so safe that he did not even found
it himself. Luckily for us, we got me and my shock-proof memory. I perfectly
remembered all the kindergartens we visited before. Since Bill almost put
the whole adventure to an end due to his... way of being... I let him take
all the risks this time. He had to hide all the explosives himself. I
observed him dig in the sandboxes, safely hidden in the car. We managed to
cover all places in one single night, all according to the plan. The parcel
is loaded. Soon, it will be time for a silent movie.
11 July 1989. Upset parents, crying children (wonder why, they don't even
know what is going on) and assuring cops. I think all news channels covered
the story of the mad bomber today. Mad bomber? The police is well aware of
the fact that none of the bombs could ever detonate. No one else is. As we
expected, they will keep this little detail secret until the madmen are
apprehended. But just you wait! The ace has yet not been drawn from the
deck.
But it soon will be.
14 July 1989. The hype concerning the mad bomber is given less and less time
on the news. As a result, the parcel has left the building. Bill is going
paranoid. But I know he will not do anything stupid.
15 July 1989. Television, the drug of the nation. My goodness! Sure, I knew
the television channel in question had no pride at all, but what they showed
today really hit the bottom. I thought they would contact the police first,
then show the nation our eight sequences (well, nine if you count the last
part). But they did not. They broadcast the whole tape the very minute it
arrived to their studio. If one is to believe the news, the nation is in a
state of shock. No children must go to school tomorrow. The police will
catch the madmen. Blah blah blah. What bothers me is that no one is
interested in the message. Except for that annoying detail, everything
follows the plan.
16 July 1989. Well, ALMOST everything is following the plan. The message is
not given enough time on television. Everybody whines about children. My
children, our children, blah blah. What about THEIR children? THEIR
children?
20 July 1989. Occasional reports concerning the investigation. The truth has
not been revealed. No one debates the main issue. Something has to be done.
I have not told Bill what I am up to. He wants to forget the whole thing.
21 July 1989. I assured Bill that I would not turn him in. He kept on
moaning about fingerprints, DNA-tests, possible witnesses and not wanting
to spend the rest of his life in jail. He really acts like a child
sometimes. Eventually he agreed to let me do what I wanted to. I called the
police and turned myself in. They picked me up half an hour later. No
excessive force were used. They knew I would not fight back.
22 July 1989. I have no clue what they say about me on television since I am
in custody. Never mind. They interrogated me for six hours. "Are you a
terrorist?" they kept on asking me. As you surely understand, I said, that is
a relative matter. No one was angry even though I talked back. The police
were aware of the truth. I was not shown the tape, but they handed me a
printout of the scenes and asked me if I was the one responsible.
0-2.3 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location unknown
2.3-4.5 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location identified
4.5-6.6 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location identified
6.6-9.1 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location identified
9.1-11.7 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location unknown
11.7-13.1 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location unknown
13.1-14.2 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location identified
14.2-16.4 seconds; doll blown to pieces in sandbox; location identified
16.4-30.0 seconds; text
23 July 1989. Since I explained everything (Bill's part excluded) they just
questioned me for two days. They tried to get me to confess that the booby
traps I scattered in sandboxes all over the country were NOT constructed in
such a way that they could not be set off. I wonder why? Do they want me to
be a true terrorist? After three hours they told me that they believed me.
Their technicians examined the traps, concluding that they could not explode.
It does not matter, they say. It is the thought that counts. I completely
agree, but I believe our thoughts differ in many respects.
23 August 1989. My attorney opened the trial by reading the message given in
the very last part of the tape. He ought to be an actor. I have never seen a
guy almost cry as he slowly read the words: "Every day thousands of children
are killed all over the world thanks to hellish machines constructed by the
weapon industry in our country. If this is good, if this is right, no one
can deny us the right to try some of these weapons on our own children. This
we will do, and you cannot complain, since you accept the killing abroad by
remaining silent, no matter the horrors you observe every day on TV."
25 August 1989. They released me this afternoon. I was given a $30.000 fine
and a seven-year conditional sentence. If I had been convicted before, the
judge would have thrown me in jail at once. Promise me you will be a good
boy in the future, he said. I could not really make that promise, I replied,
since I really think I am a truly good boy already. The whole court gave me
a look that could kill. I think they wished they could undo the verdict. I
had almost forgotten the power of media. I seemed like I was some kind of
national hero, despite the fact that I was a form of terrorist. Seems like
the truth wins now and then. A crowd had gathered outside court. They
cheered and applauded. I think I saw Bill somewhere in the middle. Reporters
asked me a lot of strange questions. My parents told them to fuck off. We
went home in dad's car. Mom and dad explained that they surely were not
proud of me. One day, I would understand what I had done, they said. Hell, I
understand now. I understand many things. Never underestimate the
intelligence and wit of a sixteen year old prankster.
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uXu #423 Underground eXperts United 1998 uXu #423
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