Page 39 of Nearly Roadkill: Queer Love on the Run
As promised, a certain clever law enforcement member, possibly named Shelly Dunlap, managed to find the actual law regarding the harassment of citizens.
Until there is some kind of law governing the Internet, basic rules of publishing and communications will stand.
Hence the following memo makes its rounds quickly among all law enforcement agencies:
All FBCS personnel are to disregard the previous memo implementing the Gingrich-Helms Free NetSpeech Act, effective immediately, and until further notice.
There will be no harassing of citizens online, and no shutdown of websites or newsgroups.
Any sites or newsgroups that have been shut down are to be unlocked and reopened immediately.
“Hey, Wally, good news,” Shelly says as she shows him the announcement on her screen. “Not only have the rights been reinstated, but apparently some civic-minded citizen of these United States found out about the memo and blew the whistle to the ACLU.”
“What?!” exclaims Budge. “How’d they find out so fast?”
“No idea, Wally,” Shelly says, perhaps a tad too quickly. “But it seems the ACLU has mounted a mass lawsuit, number of parties unlimited.”
END JABBA NARRATIVE ENTRY
GWYNYTH DIARY ENTRY
48 hours until Mercury goes retrograde.
All systems are up. Where is everybody? Could our young lovers have hit on the goof of the century?
END GWYNYTH DIARY ENTRY
To: Editor at They/Them magazine
From: D.I. Drew
Subject: … heard ’round the world
Hi Asa,
My high school civics teacher made us memorize the famous “How does this strike you?” email. Did yours? I remember being so inspired. And all the anthems that followed, tens of thousands. So here it is, now in context—
Drew
GWYNYTH DIARY ENTRY
To: All Our Friends
From: [email protected]
Subj: How does this strike you?
Hey, hello. We hope you’re well.
I’m writing for both Scratch and myself. Can’t make this too long because some people would rather we took up residence somewhere with no windows. The two of us have been blown away by all the letters we’ve been getting. We can’t answer them because of tracers. But we want to say thanks so much.
It’s been a really weird time for both of us, especially now with this charge of High Treason. After they get us, who are they going to target *next*? So, we came up with an idea:
We want to call a general strike, an online shutdown for 24 hours, to let the govt know they can’t get away with tracking us online, and Big Business can’t tell us what to buy.
Obviously there’s a whole lot of support for this way of thinking, more than anyone realized, and we should let our helpful govt know that *our* eyes are on *them*.
The deal would be for everyone to sign off and shut down at once.
Not forever, just a day. March 15, 1995.
Beware the Ides of March, and all that jazz.
Everyone goes to the website jumping_off dot com and posts their own version of a farewell, an anthem, or even just a fuck you.
Everyone writes their own. You can sign it or not.
More powerful if you do, but it’s up to you.
Every single user: no matter what you use to get online. The only ones left online will be the govt, and let’s see how much fun they have talking to themselves, without us to spy on.
We hear there’s a rally online tonight. Maybe you could talk about it there? Obviously Scratch and I won’t be able to be there, but maybe this is something to do?
{{{Netfriends}}}
—your everlovin’ Scratch and Winc
P.S. We were thinking 24 hours starting 8 a.m. Eastern time, March 15. That’s the day after tomorrow.
Romeo and Juliet are planning their strike for the precise moment Mercury goes retrograde. How wonderful!
END GWYNYTH DIARY ENTRY
TOOBE ENTRY
I hate when adults are right. I would’ve snuck into The Rally if Gwynyth hadn’t threatened me with permanent kitty litter duty. If I’d gone, it would have ended in tears, just like she warned. It all started fine. Way fine. See this report I got from Orlio.
To: Toobe@Farm Reports.org.Monsterride.santacruz
From: [email protected]
Subj: Comin’ Down!
I’m not making it up when I say everyone in the *world* is here!
We’re all in rooms called “The Rally,” You know how when there’s an overflow in one room, another one gets created automatically and it’s called, “The Rally 2”?
Well each room maxes out at 500 attendees, and now, I’m hanging out in “The Rally 1029.” Heehee.
There’s newspaper reporters; e-zine types; a whole group of deaf people; people from role-playing game rooms; people with multiple personalities. It’s like a street fair. People selling Scratch and Winc T-shirts, buttons, commemorative dinner plates, and I’m not kidding: Scratch and Winc holsters!
END TOOBE ENTRY
Sample “true accounts” of Scratch and Winc encounters
BarBun: Scratch is the best online lover I’ve ever been with!
HotHead: Too right there, grrl!
BarBun: Uh huh! Knows how to take time, build things up.
HotHead: She knows what fingers are for!
BarBun: She?
HotHead: Huh?
BarBun: He.
HotHead: She.
BarBun: He.
HotHead: Scratch is all grrl, you spritzhead!
BarBun: ::tossing hair:: I know a real man when I see one, you tramp!
Tale2Tell: Winc and I switch a *lot*! I love that about hir.
Barnabus: Aw, that’s sick!
Tale2Tell: No. You get to be everything, not just one thing.
Barnabus: ::cautiously:: What exactly does that mean?
Tale2Tell: Guess you’ll just have to go explore, Barnabus. ::kiss::
NARRATIVE ENTRY, JABBATHEHUT
Wally Budge and Shelly Dunlap know it’s bad the moment they pull into the parking lot. Every light in the place is burning except Budge’s office. Like a Christmas tree with one bad bulb.
“Ohhh,” Shelly laughs. “Look what you started!”
Her laughter is infectious, as always, and Budge starts chuckling—he can’t stop until he reaches his desk. Every alarm and whistle on his computer is flashing or beeping, demanding “read me, read me!” Wearily, he reads:
To: Ms. Budge
From: Undersec’y LaBouchere
Subj: Excuse me, but…
I’m so sorry to disturb your dinner, Lieutenant, but I just received this little item, and I’d *really* like to answer it soon.
—L.
To: Undersec’y LaBouchere
From: Director of Small Budgets, office of POTUS
Subj: Confidential
Madam,
I hope you are well.
Things are getting out of control. In-baskets are jammed with nothing but mail about Scratch and Winc.
The allegations are alarming, as is the increasing number of people claiming to be Scratch and Winc, and the resulting disrespect they are paying to their targeted advertising, as evidenced by the sharp rise in rude return emails.
Margaret, please have a look at the attached list of suspect events, crimes, threats, and heroics.
We want to know does it all come down to the two prime suspects?
who are the real Scratch and Winc,
where are they, and
how much of this dog’s breakfast is true.
Answers. Now.
Yours truly,
DSB, Office of POTUS
POTUS! Wally Budge’s eyes do a cartoon bulge as he reads down the list of events, crimes, threats, and heroics attributed to our stalwart cyberfreaks, his eyes growing wider as he proceeds from plot to theft, prank to lurid sexual exploit, and finally to a list of a dozen suspect organizations, each claiming responsibility for the outlaw antics.
He dashes off an email to the undersecretary.
To: Undersec’y LaBouchere
From: Ms. Budge
Subj: Allegations
Ma’am: The White House can’t be seriously thinking these two goofballs are *doing* all this, can they?
—B.
Of course they can be thinking that. Why not? Everyone else is thinking it. He stabs at the well-worn DELETE button and starts again in a vain attempt to dismiss the ridiculous theories.
He settles on a placating return email, then presses SEND , shaking his massive head. Enough foolishness. Time to be a cop.
His phone rings; he picks up. There’s that throaty laugh. He starts to grin.
“Hello, Lieutenant. I had to ask you, maybe you could trap them in a chat room?”
He’s grinning ear to ear now.
“Where would I ever be without you?”
“Without me? You’d be up to your neck in trouble and paperwork.”
END JABBA NARRATIVE ENTRY