THE BULLIED:

Rants & Raves from 40-years of Observed Social Justice & Injustice

A NOVELSAY, BY ALAN JOHNSON 2013

SYNOPSIS
Told from the perspective of an anonymous narrator Chances efforts with just about everything he did, particularly his numerous tirades and rants against 21 st Century society, contained pretty much the same tactical or tactless elements. Those elements were protest terrorism, anti-terrorism terrorism, wisecracking intellectualism, social criticism, sarcasm Rap, insult writings, flip the script disruptions, artistic anarchy, boundary-pushing, brash defiance, brutal honesty combined with a street attitude; along with plenty of scientific and social challenges. And wherever the current and past events took him he was more than willing to follow or lead using some or all of those elements. In a nutshell, Chance was a bestselling Soul author, Soul songwriter, Soul Rapper and Hip Soul Performance Artist who went by the name Insubordinate. He even played a minor role in a movie once but few people noticed him. He was probably not noticed because the movie audience paid to see Ice Cube and thats mostly all that they saw. So Chance didnt consider himself a Soul Actor for that was his men Denzel Washington, Don Cheadles and others department. Chance didn't consider himself to be a terrorist although he definitely terrorized terrorists. But the terrorists and the U.S. government certainly did consider him a terrorist and he understood why. To Chance terrorists were the unofficial militias for corrupt tyrannical governments. And corrupt tyrannical governments were either a documented or undocumented ally of the agents of legitimate governments while some tyrannical governments posed as legitimate governments. What did any of that have to do with Chance? Chance was a terrorist killer. When he wasn't busy assassinating or at least hoping to assassinate terrorists he was Soul Rapping as Insubordinate. He loved music but he preferred being busy making plans to hunt down terrorists as Chance, so that others could enjoy music without the threat or terror. The agents of legitimate governments hated that. So, accordingly, they hated Chance. The agents of legitimate governments knew where Bin Laden and the gang were at any given moment. Those agents had men and women who could not only
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have killed big Ben but they were people who could have had him replaced by a puppet of sorts, as well; especially the Power of 4. Chance put an end to that charade and provided President Obama with the intelligence that lead to Bin Laden's demise. The Power of 4 really didn't like that as their organization profited greatly from the charade. The Power of 4 was a legitimate but invisible government agency of the United States whose primary purpose was to hunt down and have their agents kill Chance and anyone else who challenged their political, corporate or military interests. But what the terrorists, other practitioners of tyranny and the agents of legitimate governments hated most was that they didn't know who Chance really was. Thats because Chance worked for the Unknown Committee which was a semi-legitimate invisible government agency of the United States whose primary purpose was to counter rogue government agencies, as well as domestic and international terrorists. Accordingly, Chance's troubles really began to grow even more when the Power of 4 directed government police intelligence at the Hood with the expressed purpose of drawing Chance out of hiding. Thats what the drug war was mostly about, aside for repressing the political and economic will of the people in the Hood and trailer-Hood. That's why they were having difficulty pining down his race because he seemed to care as much for poor, middle and working class Whites, Blacks, Asians, Indians and others indiscriminately. He was an enigma that's how some of his hunters described him. What they didn't know though was that Chance hid in plain sight and that their own prejudices blinded them to his identity. After all how could one think that a seemingly out of control man who publicly challenged Jay-Z and 50-Cent to FARKing battles was also a highly skilled and well prepared terrorist fighter? The Bullied is mostly and anonymously narrated as a gripping, thrilling, suspense filled dramatized take on fatherhood and motherhood, Soul and Rap music, terrorism and counter terrorism, loving love and hating hate, culture and anti-culture, the political and personal. Also the Bullied is a story of how an African American from the housing projects became a hunter of terrorists, was hunted by the United States and British Intelligence, and how Chance Vernon Johns came to be the worlds oldest active Rapper whose name was Insubordinate.

Prologue
Science Committee Briefing United States, Washington, D.C. (2013) Jimmica looked at the eleven men who formed the Scientific Committee in Washington, D.C. and knew that they had no clue what she was talking about. They were politicians, and except for maybe one or two of them they unnaturally had no patience for or interest in intellectual inquiry. So Jimmica dumbed it down for the distinguished Senators. He has a quantum computer, which really isnt supposed to exist yet. They had that look again. In comparison to our counterintelligence computers, even our supercomputers, its the equivalent of sending a rocket after the Start Fleet Enterprise when its in warp drive. Yep, they had that look again. They probably werent Trekkies so she gave them the Physics for Dummies version as an explanation. Its like a missile that can go 5,200 miles per hour chasing a jet that can go 186,000 miles per hour. She paused. His computer can track and monitor our satellites but we cant even begin to monitor or track his computer. Although all of the Senators were looking Senatorial, which was dumb, nevertheless one of them spoke up as if he was scientifically smart. Didnt Google and some other company just purchase quantum computers? Yes, last year, but that was more a prototype than a real quantum computer. She paused again, took a deep breath. Gentlemen, the l argest Ice Sheet in the world is the East Antarctic and it is approximately 3 miles thick. Couple that with the nearby West Antarctic Ice Sheet and their combined size would be larger than the United States and Mexico combined. Global sea levels
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would rise well above 200 feet if both ice sheets were to be melted at the same time. They didnt look so lost now. This terrorist, or network of terrorists, or whatever you want to call him or them, have technology that can melt them both in under 0.000005 milliseconds. The effect would be globally devastating, making everything west of the Mississippi part of an even deeper Pacific ocean. They were quiet, listening and willing to learn more. And this government organization or group of terrorists has already melted a relatively small iceberg just to give us a sample of their power and ability to commit wide spread terror. Recruitment (Flint, MI 1976) This was another one of those activity packed summers that went by much too quickly. Chance and his friends had just quit BCN, the so-called Black Christian Nationalists. BCN, Chance learned, was more of a Black cult than a movement. Despite that, he loved BCNs militarized marching drills, which would later be popularized by the RAP group NWA on YouTube in their Fight the Power video. Still, BCN was cultish but thats not why Chance had quit. He had quit because the Black Christian Nationalists leaders repeatedly failed to buy the youth t-shirts that theyd promised to buy for months; since last winter, in fact. And here it was now nearing the end of summer. The money for the t-shirts was there because Chance and his friends alone raised no less than $45,000s in 7-months through BCNs Missionary Outreach Program. Essentially it was a program where cute Black kids went into all White communities and solicited cash which was given generously to soften post-Jim Crow inspired guilt. The White people seemed genuinely nice, but these particular Black people had begun to genuinely piss Chance off. So when Chance counted the money in his head and added up the lies he quit. When he quit the twenty seven other peer pressured youths whom he had recruited also left. That mutiny effectively ended the Flint, Michigan chapter of BCN. Maybe thats why Chances inner circle called him boss, which was weird being that he was younger than most of them and was fast becoming a nerd. He was leaving the public library now while his story was being told.
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During the 1970s a nerd was called a book worm. Being a bookworm or nerd was a tough business. Being a reader made one a target for bullies and the most stupid ridicule. Being a nerd in a housing project was even tougher. A reader was often a loner and sported a black eye and other bruises of abuse as punishment for being interested in learning. River Park, an urban planned ghetto, was that housing project. It was also where Chance learned to fight, several years before he learned to love the right to read and think. But in order to re-earn the right to read and think just about anyone would have to fight or succumb to being picked on or savagely taunted. Chance chose fight over flight. So he had a rep for both being hypo-educated and a fighter. Almost always armed with books, Chance caught outside challengers off guard. Most expected to see a tough looking guy. Chance didnt look or act tough. But once a group of one hundred or more high school students saw him beat up an older and bigger guy who drew a knife, while Chance was unarmed, his rep grew even more and even fools chose to leave him and his books alone. BCN had sharpened his self-taught martial art skills. Before that he devoured hours of Muhammad Ali fights and Bruce Lee films. He copied the styles of both but disguised his boxing and martial arts skills as street fighting, using either merely to avoid or deflect blows before dishing out punishment. Some type of avoidance or deflection was needed now because once again he saw a White woman and Black man, both of whom he was pretty sure had been following him ever since he left the public library. And now here they were again when he got off the city bus as it pulled into River Park. His semi-paranoid cousin, Tuffy, who wasnt tough, would have immediately fingered them as undercover cops. All suspicious adult strangers were undercover to him. Granted, Tuffy was good at spotting and learning the names of the actual undercover police, as well. Not that it mattered for most people in the projects werent crooks by any stretch of the imagination. Thats because smoking marijuana then was treated as less than a misdemeanor and petty crimes were treated as petty and not an overwhelming sign of bad things to come. Tuffy lived with his and Chances grandparents but he wasnt there at the time. In times of potential danger, Chance often went to his grandparents home instead of his own. Once there he said a quick hi to his grandma (who was cooking what smelled like collard greens and fried chicken) before he dropped off his Microbiology, Chemistry and Trigonometry books. But without Tuffy being
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there to truthfully or falsely finger his followers, Chance decided to lead them to the Flint River as he was once again choosing fight over flight. Dinner with Dr. Doll (Summer 2011) Dr. Doll talked and moved real fast and seemed to be about to burst from all of the internal energy bubbling up inside her. Dr. Doll claimed that she wasnt always like that, maybe hinting that Chance brought such energy surges out of her. It was refreshing and Chance loved the uplift from anothers excess energy but something about her just wasnt sitting right within him. Maybe it was because she was too perfect and relished being perfect. Who knew for sure? Maybe he would find out a lot more at dinner, at her favorite restaurant, than he had been able to learn from her on-line. Since Dr. Doll had learned that Chance was a long distance runner, she ordered for him the strano pasta with mortadella and broccoli. She had octopus and mortadella spiedino. Both dishes looked and tasted great. But there was nary enough food to fill a saucer let alone cover an entire plate. Due to Chances high metabolism, he could have eaten both of their meals and chalked it up to being an appetizer. And since the bill would come to $126.42 that made the glasses of wine more awful than they actually were. The restaurant didnt serve Red Tail. That was probably because Red Tail wasnt recommended by a wine expert for sale at Dr. Dolls favorite high scale food establishment. Red Tail was considered to be cheap but tasted far better to Chance. But he also liked Cold Duck, so the wine experts might have rightly doubled down on his tastes being a whole lot less than sophisticated. Yep, it was definitely an eatery for those who wanted to be seen only in certain places. He looked at his online date. They had chatted several months online before ever actually meeting. Her name was Carolyn Doll, she was a doctor; a geneticists to be exact. He had learned from their on-line chats that her dad was a lawyer and her mother a French high school teacher. She was pretty as a doll, too, which made Chance think back to his mother and the prissy little girls she used to try to hook him up with when he and Joan were somehow disrupted. They were usually disrupted by her stepdad, though, who when sober was reminded that Joans occasional two or more week absence from her home was due to him not being real fatherly.

Still, his date would get the hint that he wasnt really attracted to her much sooner than later. He had no intention of initiating a good night kiss at the end of their evening meal. And he definitely wouldnt call her as the present conversation was forced, shallow and they just didnt have that much in common. Plus Dr. Doll had asked him why he was a Rapper when he could have been a lawyer, doctor or someone important. She didnt know that he had two chart topping songs in both 2010 and 2011. Even if she had known that last comment was a deal breaker and caused him not to share that he was also a respected businessman. But man oh man her tennis conditioned body was banging. She had that athletic look and lean beauty of Venus Williams. Still he had no intention of banging her or hanging out with her after their meal which he was certain would leave him still hungry. Turned out that he had lied to himself or wasnt true enough about his intentions for her. After the dinner, she initiated the kiss and went straight to his crotch which responded first against and then with his will. Dr. Doll had him right there in the restaurant parking lot, in his car. She came twice, embarrassingly loud. He didnt know how because it wasnt all that great to him. She was fine but he still wasnt feeling her and the vibes were just too confusing, too contrived and just not natural. After they finished, she claimed that she needed what turned out to be fast, hard and angry sex. Dr. Doll said she would call him but that she had a busy week ahead. Then it suddenly struck Chance, the dinner and sex was like an appointment. She had scheduled him in, examined him, probed him and had been probed by him. And the way she said that she would call him sounded more like what a doctor would say to a patient that required follow-up treatment. Dr. Doll (A Month Later: Summer 2011) There was no I can save you mission involved with Dr. Doll. It was more that she was persistent and straight to the point about what she wanted and what attracted her, especially sex with older more experienced men. She was much too busy to be clingy, she said, so to Chance that comment was an added bonus instead of a cautionary flag. But when they were a part and chatted Chance could tell that she was the type who would have a full schedule of activities for you when she was free and
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was hoping to find you free or ready to clear your calendar for her. Chance being at her home, instead of working on any one of his multiple projects, was such an occasion he guessed. She was still talking and moving real fast and seemed about to burst from being so alive and having so much too look forward to in life and love. She was 34-years young and lived in Buckhead, a booming urban oasis of North Atlanta. Her home was like an urban setting from a Tyler Perry movie that captured domestic tranquility. It was almost evening and her terrace overlooked a manicured lawn, pool and Jacuzzi. Her pool was interesting. There was a wooden pergola at the far end of the pool and a brick patio on the other end. There were also peegee hydrangea trees whose blooms were early white then and would change to rose later in the season. Manicured or clipped boxes of Japanese hollies were around the row of trees with a grassy walking path on each side leading to the pool. Chance had been in Georgia for over seven years and was still learning things about its natural abundance. Chance would learn about the landscape described above later as he had taken a picture of the entire pool area when he had first arrived at Dr. Dolls home and had forwarded it to his landscaper, Alonzo, who would educate Chance on his refined taste. The terrace was where Chance was standing as she had to drive down the street to a strip mall in order to get a few more items. She particularly needed wine for the chicken stir fry that they were going to eat. Afterward they were maybe going to go for a swim, a walk or just stay in to relax and cuddle once evening sat in. She had been talking and moving around real fast again as she said all of that. After she drove off, Chance left her terrace and walked down her spiraling stairs to put his phone and wallet into the trunk of his car where the other technological items like his iPad were. After that he walked around a bit while he was outside. The sun was low but it was still light out and it was just simply another beautifully weathered Georgia day. He had been walking around her big front yard for about fifteen minutes when he could see her driving back up her long driveway, which he was near. Why didnt you answer your phone? I tried to call you, she asked and said while almost wiping the welcoming smile from his face with her tone. He helped her with the two over flowing recycled store bags she was struggling with as she got out of her little red two seated sports car.

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I tossed it in the trunk. Why did you do something silly like that? I could have had an emergency or something, she said now out of the car, standing near it while he held both bags under his arms. Why did you call? Chance asked while ignoring the mood stabbing silly remark. I wanted you to put some rice in the electric rice cooker and a few other things while I was running the errand, she said, real fast. Chance started walking towards her house. Youre just going to leave me standing here? Chance was now slowly back pedaling towards her house. I told you before we met that Im not much of a phone person. But you could have answered the phone, is that too much to ask? She was now also moving slowly towards her house. How, its in the trunk? It shouldnt be in the trunk. Actually, it should be wherever I put it. Now thats selfish if I ever heard it, and you dont have to get smart. Im done talking about my phone if you dont mind. Well, Im not done talking. And I dont appreciate your dismissive tone either Mr. Chance. Dismissive? Yes, dismissive and now I see why you chose that silly rapper name Insubordinate. Chance shut down. The comment about his stage name didnt sting still he actually stopped talking about the phone while she hadnt. She started on the meal while talking, yanking items out of the bags and then more like tossing them than really setting them in their place. She was clearly frustrated and was still talking

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fast and tossing about strings of words like rude, inconsiderate, borderline ghetto, uncommunicative Ill be back, she finally said. She must have run out of insults. Chance watched her through the kitchen window as she paced back and forth outside and then disappeared around the corner of her house. She had on a blue short set that was real cute with matching open toe sandals. Normally, Chance would have at least tried to be all over a woman who was cute as her. But being with her was again not feeling normal, especially now. A damn phone, he thought as she had been outside for what was about 10minutes by then. After another few minutes he went outside to see if she was ok. Dr. Doll was sitting up in a tree, her legs swinging off the side of its lowest branch. He asked if she were ok and she restarted on the phone. With that he rudely excused himself to go and protect their meal from burning.

Sex that night was less than ok as expectations were both dimmed for him and again raised by her at about 4:30A.M. She aggressively woke him up and wanted to go for a second round. Chance wasnt really in the mood and strongly suggested that they wait about another hour so he could get some needed rest. They didnt retire for bed until well after 2:00 A.M. and she was even a little angry then because he fell asleep on her favorite movie, Why Did I Get Married Too. Chance had seen the movie before and only pretended to be sleep so that he wouldnt have to respond to her energetic comments about her favorite scenes, which seemed to be every other one. His were the ones with Janet Jackson in them. She had never been married and nor had Chance. And neither one of them were doing nor saying anything that would put the dreams nor hopes of marriage on a normal persons mind either. But that movie had stirred that dream when Chance had watched it without her. Maybe he was dreaming now or was it a nightmare? Maybe about a few minutes had passed and Chance was re-awakened from a deeper sleep than he intended when suddenly she snatched the covers off of him. He guessed she thought that she was being sexily playful. He pulled the covers back on and she snatched them off again. With that Chance jumped out of her bed and started dressing.
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Whats wrong? He ignored her and kept dressing. She started to try and physically stop him but then thought better of it. The three and an hour drive back to Valdosta was more like being on the way back to freedom. Once there he gathered everything that he wanted to take into the house with him and checked his phone which she had blown up. She had blown it up when she was at the grocery store, too, and had blown it up even now although he had left without saying thank you or leaving even a respectful goodbye behind. He knew it was over between them before it had even a chance to start. And soon she would too after he blocked her number from his phone and her fast and numerous petty concerns from his mind and refocused on his plans for Re-Use-It. She had to be the only person he had ever met that he hadnt shared something about Re-Use-It with. Now that was both interesting and telling for he was a lover of beauty but was turned off mentally by her. But Chance considered that fault or divide to be with him and not her.

229 STUDIOS (Valdosta, GA August 2013) Or as Steve Jobs might have said, There has to be an ass hole with creative talent somewhere in this building. Somebody, anybody write me a freaking hit song. Please. The Rapper Insubordinate and the family man Chance was smiling back at the smiling crowd of young people and added what Steve might have then tossed in rather sarcastically, Ill even pay you for it. The students, interns and staff burst into laughter. Insubordinate doubted, though, that many of them had read Steve Jobs autobiography which would have helped them better understand the reference to pay. But they would come to understand that reference in a short while. They were all in a Valdosta studio that Insubordinate was renting from the 229 Crew, which was a loose but large group of local Rappers who could be found all over YouTube and on one anothers individually produced mixed tapes and CDs. Today though was an appreciation day for Valdostas local talent through
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Chances Flight of the Afflatus Blog and the 229s Hotter than Hot-lantas Hip Hop & Rap 3rd Annual Lyric Writing Contest. It was also Insubordinates way of giving back. He was also in a great mood because he would be picking up one of his daughters from Valdostas airport later in the day. It was all good in the 229 Hood. Many who were in attendance, about 105 in all, were from the Valdosta Housing Authoritys Ora Lee West and Hudson Dockett housing complexes. Duh, they were housing projects. But Black people were scattered throughout Valdosta. Some were from the Southside and many more from the Northside. The further North you went, the Whiter it got and the further East you went the Blacker and more Hispanic it got. Valdosta, like a lot of America, was both a multicultural and a culturally segregated community. Privately, Insubordinate didnt blame White or Black folks for not wanting to be around extremely ghetto Black folks or White trailer-Hoods. Hell, the first thing most former drug dealers, gamblers, professional athletes, Rappers and Country singers did when they made it big was to move out of the leaderless chaos called the Hood or trailer-Hood. Moving on up and out as the Jeffersons had once put it. The crime in the Black communities was a Black shame. Even W.E.B. DuBois was forced to speak out against Black incivility during his days. That was over 100 years ago and too many Blacks were still acting a fool and cutting a rug, as they used to say. Insubordinate was like Mr. T. and pitied the fool. Chance put as much distance as he could between himself and ghetto parasitism. He instead focused on social success. Because thats what ghetto foolishness does, like a parasite it sucks the positive life out of individuals and then the wider community. That was true especially when there were no barriers or special defenses to protect both from that invasion of incivilitys weakening behaviors. Still, Insubordinate appreciated the sharper youths. The sharper youths of the Millennial generation, those young men and women who werent buying into the outright urban madness. The youth who strove to be different were different. To create balance they were the ones who were the reason that more women were enrolling into and graduating from college than men. Many formerly oppressed women were no longer intellectually depressed. Many formerly oppressed men were no longer criminally stressed. The breadwinner was the two who held up their bargained end of the mutually agreed on spiritual and social contract as one.
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How many of you have an iPhone or some other Apple product? More than half of the hands were raised in response to Insubordinates question. Thats when he explained to them that Steve Jobs was essentially an entrepreneurial hippie, a lover of peace and a live and let live kind of guy. He was also brutally honest and demanded the best from nearly everyone, even his rivals. He could care less about your personal problems and would toss you out of a meeting if you offered excuses in place of a solution. And the, Ill pay you was part of an inside joke. Thats why Insubordinate had gone on to explain, Steve was supposed to pay his business partner a certain portion of money for the work they shared but Steve kept the money for himself, and the guy who he did that to had been his best friend since high school. So just imagine how he might have treated you? Seguing from that story Insubordinate said, Ill pay you, though. But youll have to work your butts off to get it and become a partner. With that said, he looked at the 105 or so aspires. Yall ready to work? Yes, they hollered in unison while taking the cue from hearing Gotti, say, We came to work. I cant hear you. Yes, we came to work, they said as they continued to get more of the message. Good, this is how it works: $2,500 for the lyrics that are voted the best, $1,500 for the second best and $750 for the third best. They didnt know in advance that they were going to have an opportunity to be paid twice as much as the previous years. Insubordinate could see it in their eyes; some of them were already counting and spending the money. But shortly thereafter came two other very pleasant surprises. Insubordinate acknowledged a young lady who had raised her hand. Will the 1st, 2nd and 3rd place winners get any royalties should the song be produced?
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She was probably no older than 16, Insubordinate had figured. But she was definitely one of the ones who got the gist of the Steve Jobs distorted allegory. I hadnt thought about it. But you do now. And lady you get a bonus of $100s just for having the guts to ask that question. There was that certain electricity in the air that comes from money being shared and being in a group that has a positive vibe and promising outlook. Who will be the judges of the songs? asked a young man. He was probably in his 20s. It bears mentioning that he was White, as were more than a few members of the 229 crew. So it wasnt surprising that he was at a Hip Hop & Rap event. You all will vote by secret ballot, Insubordinate answered. With me, Gotti, and his staff breaking any ties, Insubordinate said as he looked at each in turn. Does he get a $100 bonus for asking that? asked a different young hip looking White guy. Just about everyone in the room broke into laughter. Im sorry but that didnt fall into the Steve Jobs lesson, category. Insubordinate continued smiling as the room broke into laughter again and the young man sort of blushed, as a few of his friends sort of teased him. But if yall heard like I heard, this young man intends to win. Thats right, yeah, the young man shouted, pumping his fist in the air in a way that only a cool White person can do. Feeling their fire, Insubordinate realized that they were all really worked up now. Well, lets get to work then. That encouragement lead to a sort of frenzy as iPads, lap tops, as well as old school pen and paper were brought out. Accordingly, each person found themselves some personal space and went to work with an aim of winning. Theyre all winners, Insubordinate said to Gotti who was now standing next to him along with a few of his staff members as they all looked on. Gotti was the local radio personality who annually promoted and organized the annual Hotter than Hot-lanta Hip Hop & Rap Writing Contest. A month after this particular
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contest, Gotti would be murdered in his studio in an apparent robbery. His killer had yet to be brought to justice. OPRAH INTERVIEW (2013) Summer in Michigan was a beautiful time of the year. Joan was relaxing in her modest home while looking, for the fifth time over the course of 2-years, at a recording of an interview that Oprah had conducted with Chances daughters in 2011 and which also was eventually edited and published in Essence magazine the following year. Heres what the reader missed and what Joan had already watched: Is it true that you two built an empire off of spin offs? Oprah asked, looking comfortable and regal in her studio before she continued. With only a virtual staff and office you two are said to work from your couches and laptop only and rarely ever hold staff meetings in person. Chances daughters were smiling back at Oprah, Its kind of easy Oprah because Trudy will sue or fire anyone who disobeys an order. Directive, Taylor. Ok, directive then. Is fired terminated or let go? Forget you. You love me. I plead guilty, I do. Oprah was absorbed by the sisterly exchange. It reminded her of the genuine love between the tennis and fashion greats Venus and Serena. Joan (Flint , Michigan 2013) Joan had already been watching Trudy and Taylor perform for about fifteen minutes, and here we observe where Joan was at now, listening to a tirade that was written by their fathers alter ego Insubordinate. What Trudy read to Oprah was essentially a tirade about the need for a strong work ethic but mainly it was about the Tea Party. Their dad possessed an overwhelming work ethic and Flint, Michigan bred toughness. The toughness was more resilience than anything. He always said that
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Flintstones were some of the most resilient people in the country and for decades had led the country by way of the automobile. He didnt know how to back down from a fight, or how not to get up with the birds to exercise, read to write or write to read, or mess around in the recording studio. None of it was ever really work to him. No job was and he never really had a bad one. Work was what you were supposed to do so it shouldnt be a burden unless you allowed it to be or made it one. To him work was living and doing what you loved or could learn from while doing. And to him we all could learn a lot from the rise of the Tea Party. OPRAH Tea Party Essay as was Read by Trudy (2011) The Tea Partiers are crazy? Well, not exactly. Our freedom of speech is being attacked by our government and public institutions, abortion is murder and completely anti-Christian, there are pockets of entitlement interest groups that are in a vicious cycle of dependency, there are communities that dont even try to police themselves but who rally when they perceive poor policing by reluctant or abusive police, there is a wide spread lack of work ethic and customer service, there are people who dont study hard or effectively, there is too much poor leadership and a lack of oversight from the people those leaders are supposed to represent, lots of our tax dollars are being wasted and curing the waste alone would greatly curb many of our social and economic problems, and the government and corporations are snooping into peoples private lives. Thats not crazy talk folk; those are bullying realities that deserve nothing less than the extremes of forced change. The Tea Partiers problem is that they have representatives who say the right things in very wrong ways. So the solution-less or bad solution presenting Democrats just pounce on the Tea Partys extremism, I mean gaffes. Now the Democrats bad decisions look more reasonable in contrast to the unreasonable decisions, due to extreme rhetoric, that are presented by the Republican Tea Party. Its another one of those damned if you do or damned if you dont situations. Both sides are making our choice nothing more than that which is the least bad for us. One day we will get the reforms that campaigning politicians promise. But it will only come through the building of parallel institutions that can out fund the interest groups who fund non-inclusiveness. Libertarianism, Ayn Rand-ismit all must be countered by an economic plan and social system that is designed and approved by the former protestors and critics of the current economic plans and social systems.
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The better plans already exist and some are working on a low scale, we just dont use them or should I say fund them with enough support and enthus iasm. The vocal protestors and critics are the supermajority but right now they are being vetoed by the minority which is the entire Congress and the Senate. Its almost simple. Instead of social protesting, economically protest by building up and supporting those who are transparently engaging in the type of world that is in high demand. Sure there will be competing interests but only the most popular and effective interests will rule as opposed to the unpopular and current system of systematic wealth and rule by the few. Socialism? We already have aspects of that in our current social systems. But instead of socialism call it a rejection of the unpopular brand of Wall Streets free market system and its political allies, which right now are all branches of government and most public and private institutions. Does Chance like the Tea Party? No. Hello, no. Does he respect them? Yes. Heaven, yes. But still he doesnt trust conservatism of any kind. Black, White, Hispanic, Asianconservatism is the same everywhere. Its repressive and non-inclusive with a high entry barrier. Liberals complain about that but play essentially the same game, but at least they are angry about its apparent array of unfairness. Now what we have with the Democrats are poverty fighters and social justice and enlightened crusaders. None of that has built anything sustainable in the fight against poverty. Yet, there are those who proudly say that they plan to keep fighting the good fight. Whats so good about constant rejection of your ideas and losing ground with each and every step forward? Trudy recited the last part from memory, which impressed Oprah who added that liberals wouldnt want to hear about the poverty part of that tirade except to debunk it and the tirade still didnt impress Oprah enough to not ask this follow-up question: Didnt your dad almost spend time in prison for attempted murder? Taylor gently touched Trudy to calm her down and to let her know I got this big sis. Oprah, first of all That part of the interview got heated and by mutual agreement was edited out. Only those present really knew what transpired. Whatever it was it ended
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with both the girls and Oprah apologizing to each other. After all, Oprah was one of their heroes. So Oprah went back to the tirade. Now back to the Tea Party, I mean work tirade. You are right Oprah because the Tea Party rant is what most people will get from it and miss the part about work. Oprah nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Why do I have a feeling that your father didnt give you that essay, she commented while point to the now folded up tirade that Trudy was holding. Or authorize you young ladies to use it. He hates publicity about himself, but theres so much that people dont understand about our dad, theres so much that people need to know about him. This is our way of nudging him, Taylor chimed in. What they didnt know though was that the Democratic aspect of the tirade would catch him sort of off guard as a later guest on the Bill Maher show. And just as luck would have it Al Sharpeton and Michael Eric Dyson were also guess and had some sharp criticisms but were respectful of Chances view. Thanks, daughters, Chance would think after that time. We toot his horn because he would just leave his essays in a case or binder or something, Trudy continued. Yeah, Russell Simmons seems to be like that, too, real modest. And Bill Cosby and Cicely Tyson You, too, Oprah, Taylor remarked and laughed as Oprah clearly blushed. You two are a mess. Old souls Our dad says the something, they said in unison, cutting off Oprah as they leaned into one another, giggling at the connecting vibe of speaking the same thoughts or finishing one another statements. It was all good though as Oprah was about to introduce her featured guest, Alicia Keyes. And all the girls could think about was the photos that would be taken with her and the cherished autographs they were sure to plead for and receive after Alicia was interviewed.

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Ghosts

(Flint, Michigan from 1966 as was told in 2013)

Not that Trudy was intentionally out to change subjects while she and her father were talking, but she loved hearing stories about her great grandmother, Leevatie Coates. Leevatie was proud and often reminded family members that her own mother was full blown half-apache, as she would say. That was probably true since Leevatie herself was one generation removed from slavery. And probably true since Trudys grandmother and many of Trudys aunts and female cousins, like Trudy, had long, flowing Black hair that was real close to the images of the hair of beautiful Native American women. But Chance was also prone to remind his family members that Leevatie herself had very kinky and nappy hair, a wide African nose and thick lips. She looked more African than many Africans on the continent of Africa looked even today. But it wasnt the story of how her great grandmother would start out cooking one package of pinto beans, a small skillet of cornbread and a few bunches of greens. And like a story from the Bible of how a cup runneth over, pots in this instance, someone would announce to a caller to grandmas house or to a person called from grandmas house, Grandmas cooking. And that would lead to more calls, more beans, more greens and cornmeal, probably some yams, and of course, pocket money for grandma to play her street numbers with. Speaking of street numbers, playing the numbers were a tale, a story, even a book or movie unto itself. Thats if one left out Chances tirade about how the States lottery system illegally stole that Black Market from Black people. Today that theft had never been more legal and popular. But since Trudy and Chance had too few opportunities to just chill, relax, and enjoy one anothers company uninterrupted by business and other facts of life she had every intention of taking full advantage of the occasion. Dad, tell me a story about some of the ghosts you encountered as a child, she said, smiling, looking cute like only a daughter can to her dad. Chance looked away from the window which gave him a view of the large man-made pond and combination sculpture and Japanese garden in his back yard in Valdosta Georgia and back to his daughter, who was visiting for almost two and half weeks over the summer from Grand Blanc Michigan, where she still lived with her mother. She loved horror movies even as an adolescent and now here she was 18, on her way to college and still loving them. Nothing seemed to scare her. Maybe
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Chances logic, How can you believe in God and be scared of ghosts or demons had penetrated. Who knows? Sure, Chance said, as he leaned forward on the couch he and his daughter was sharing. You never met her, for she passed before you were born. But you had a cool cousin named Vernita. She could roller skate her butt off and she was a real pretty Nurse and beautiful on the inside, too. Chance paused. Trudy could tell he was deeper in thought than he had intended on being in. She was real religious. No, actually spiritual. She went to church a lot but was still with a street-wise edge, and kept up with all of the slang at the time. But she was so nice and generous that you never realized that she was steering you towards a better way of seeing and doing things After another short pause which seemed longer than it was because of the silence between them, and seemingly with a smile on his face, a sure sign of pleasant memories, he was sort of lost in his own thoughts. While his mind temporarily roamed, Trudy remembered that everybody who knew Vernita spoke fondly of the cousin Trudy wish she had known. The fondness and respect was almost on the same level as it was for her great grandmother, who would, as mentioned earlier, start a Sunday meal for four people and wind up feeding forty people or more with take home plates to boot. Back from his trailing thoughts, Chance told her how he, his two brothers, and three sisters lived in a three bedroom apartment building on Wood Street in Flint, Michigan. Vernita lived in a big four bedroom home on Root Street, which was right around the corner from where Vernitas aunt, Chances mom lived. Chances mother had 11 sisters and 3 brothers, and most of them lived in walking distance. So everybody was always running in and out of one anothers home, mostly visiting and to see who was cooking something to eat. Vernita had only been in her home for less than a week. Those who had the guts, which was usually around a dozen or more family members and a few unbelieving members from the community, would go to Vernitas around midnight to hear a ghost. This particular ghost appeared around the same time every night. And even if the mayor himself had been there, the appearance or rather the sounds of the ghost would have been evident.
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Chance explained that they all would gather in what was once Vernitas bedroom, which she abandoned on day one; leaving bed, dressers and all behind. She said everything in the room was cursed. It was the only room in which the electricity wouldnt work despite her maintenance mans efforts to fix it. So the room was dimly lit by the moon light and the street lights. Knowing exactly when too, she would put one extended finger to her lips, and go Shhhh to hush everyone into silence. Be quiet, its about to start. That turned out to be somewhat melodramatic, like we were all about to watch a movie or something, because what happened next was loud and could be heard over talking, screaming, a loud radioit didnt matter what the surrounding noise was or might be. Just a few seconds after silencing everyone, the first sound which everyone clearly heard was unmistakably a body falling to the hard wood floor. The fall was immediately followed by heavy, labored breathing. Chance explained to Trudy that they were all hearing a mans last dying breaths. They could also hear him trying to crawl across the floor to the door. Vernita said he had been stabbed to death. Chance didnt know how she knew but they all knew that they were hearing something devilish, in a sense. And like which each night for the two weeks she had been there, Vernita would encourage all in attendance to pray. She later explained that that persons soul was stick in this life and needed to crossover into the next or afterlife. Chance didnt really understand the power of prayer then. So his eyes were always open, as he came nearly every night, as the others prayed. So hed looked for visible signs of the ghost but could only hear the heavy breathing, which probably only lasted about two or three minutes but which always seemed longer. And before the prayers were finished, everyone could hear a panic sounding final breath before the breathing suddenly stopped. The falling and breathing stopped until the next night when another group of disbelievers would come and leave believing. Shortly thereafter, the family helped Vernita move, which took some convincing because she wanted to stay and pray the restless soul to its resting place. But she had young children and Vernita respected her elders. No one ever rented that house again and it was eventually boarded up and then burned down presumably for insurance purposes. People believed in haunted houses back then, they almost had no choice. And unlike the haunted house reality shows on television today, the haunted houses during Chances youth were witnessed by more than a few.
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Her dad again became quiet for more than a moment. He was probably thinking about his cousin Vernita, Trudy noted again, because he didnt look sad. While he was quiet, she reminisced about an earlier ghost story he had told her about. The Addison Street ghost was also in Flint. There one would feel and sometime see an actual shadowy presence in the laundry room, in the day or night. And no one in the family would go in there alone, except for Chance. Alone, he saw more than his fair share of shadows and images of people walking between or around the clothes that were hung out to dry. After momentarily being frightened, Chance would yell or throw something at the ghostly noise or image. But this other widely witnessed and verifiable part was the reason children would spend the night. Every night without fail, there would be a loud eruption of banging pots and pans. The noise always woke up the entire house. It was like every pot and skillet in the house was being banged together by multiple people. Now being that Chance knew automatically that his mother was on her way to the kitchen, he would join her like she knew he would. His mother would flip on the kitchen light, and like always not a single pot or pan was disturbed. It was not unusual for long silences to be maintained between Chance and his daughter. So she even had a moment to think about a later ghost. This one was in River Park. Chances family was all sleeping and then their baby brother was awakened from his sleep by a heavy presence that was clearly in his room. Hearing the panic from his little brother, the middle brother too awoke to immediately feel the presence and understand the reason for panic. Other family members heard their cries of fear and came rushing to the room to also feel the presence. That presence made them all rush downstairs to the top of the basement where Chance slept. Hearing them, Chance rushed up the stairs. Hearing and seeing their fear, he told them to go to grandmas, which was just up the hill and where they were all going anyway. No surprise to his mother because nothing seemed to scare him or keep him scared, even as a young child. He was 16 years young at the time. Chance told them he was staying. He was still tired and now pissed. Once they all left, the presence did come down into the basement. Leave, Chance said calmly and quickly went back to sleep, even before the presence left, which it had done as Vernita had long ago said it would.
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How about lunch, Chance said, breaking the silence and interrupting Trudys ghost story reminiscing. And smoothies? You know it. Her dad made the best, thick and fruit filled smoothies. She missed that about him and even more. He missed her, too. And she forgot all about the ghosts as he put one arm around her neck to hang over her opposite shoulder, where he leaned in and threatened to sing to her. Threaten? Please dont dad. She was serious. He could rap, which was weird in itself since he was old as dirt. But her dad, he definitely could not sing. So to her the promise to sing was not only a playful threat but a real one too. Hair Show (Atlanta, GA August 2013) Taylors hairstyles were always changing. Sometimes her hair was straight or maybe wavy-curly, and at other times it was curly-kinky or kinky-coily. Chance didnt know the names of any of the styles but like most men he would go, You did something to your hair. Sometimes, though, he had to do a double-take in order to recognize his youngest daughter Taylor. Taylor and Trudy were quite different. The difference could be that they had different mothers or that Taylor lived first in Canada and now in Sweden with her mother who married a financier. Trudy would often visit her sister and other places throughout the world but her travels just reinforced why she preferred the U.S. as the other places were nice to visit but she wouldnt want to live in nearly any of them; except maybe Canada. But it didnt really matter because they left Valdosta to meet up with Taylor who as they had anticipated was now in the United States. Taylor was in Atlanta for the Bronner Bros. International Hair Show, which Taylor attended yearly and which usually conflicted with Chances schedule, as it had for the past three years, but not so this year. Since he was placed on vocal rest by his health advisors and had to cancel his 2013 concert tour. Recruitment (Flint, Michigan 1976) Chance had always thought that he would feel comfortable and relaxed in a conspiratorial zone but here he was and he felt just the opposite of comfortable and relaxed. He was anxious and closer to scared than he liked.
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After he left his grandparents home, Chance led his two followers through a construction site for another housing complex that would turn out not to be ghetto since it was privately owned and properly managed and not mismanaged by H.U.D. like River Park was. A complete apple orchard once grew were the new complex was rising. The orchard once had a few pear and peach trees, grape vines and a swamp full of turtles, minnows, frogs and was where an occasional trapped carp or speckled trout could be found. Chance used to hunt small rabbits and birds with his homemade bow and arrows, sling shots and once his uncle from Chicago came to visit, an air-pump Daisy manufactured BB-gun. However, his homemade nun chucks, spears and other martial arts weaponry werent that useful for hunting. And for some reason, Chance never got to share his love of martial arts with his uncle from Chicago. He probably didnt share because, although cool, his uncle was old as dirt. Chance learned quickly that he didnt have much of a heart for killing birds, frogs and rabbits. So after his uncle left for Chicago, after having spent a month or so in Flint, Chance resorted to capturing and making pets of the animals he had been encouraged to kill. He still had his weapons, though, which were strategically hidden throughout the thick and rarely visited woods leading to and growing along the banks of the Flint River. The weapons were hidden because when found by his mom she would throw them away, citing their dangers along with her constant warning, Boy, you going to put somebodys eye with that thing. There were woods for as far as the eye could see, starting right at the borders of the front and back of River Park and also at the borders on three sides of the new housing complex that was on the east side of River Park. Chance literally lived on the city border where urban met rural, and as he would learn, both city and rural stretched for many miles. Chance and his followers were heading east. Chance was far enough ahead to where the lady, who carried a small purse, and the man, who had a folder in his right hand, could see Chance but who were far enough behind should Chance need to make an evasive move. He was feeling a lot less anxious by then. There was one farm house that was not torn down to make way for the new housing complex. On the border of the farms property was where wild grapes and black berries still grew. Chance had earlier made friends with other youths who showed him how to make jelly and jam out of both.

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Cantaloupes also grew wild but were about a few miles south of the farm house in woods that were even thicker. Those southern woods had fallen trees and sinkholes that were treacherous to navigate in reality but which were a playground for any group of kids adventurous enough to hike the two or more miles from urban life to get there. The area that Chance led his followers to was different than the woods that surrounded it. A huge swathe of flat land jutted out with cattails and tall wild grass and caused the Flint River to run in an S-shape around it. But Chance was in the big tree, the last tree before one could come out to see that land. The man and woman were still walking casually as if out for a stroll. But once they passed underneath Chance jumped down from the tree with the nun chucks he had hidden there. He had learned early from the bullies of River Park that there was no need to talk about fighting when it was time to fight. This was such a time. Once he landed, he yelled like Bruce Lee and swung his nun chucks at the man. But it was the lady who turned, caught the incoming nun chucks with her purse as they wrapped around it and was being torn from Chances hand, all while hitting him with a roundhouse kick to the midsection. She seemed to have done all three in one effortless motion. The kick sent him flying backwards. Chance barely missed hitting his head against the big tree he had just jumped out of. Now on the ground, the man who was casually taking in the beauty of his surroundings while intentionally ignoring the short battle turned around and both he and the woman stared down at Chance calmly. Chance stared back without getting up, yet. The guy was tall, about 67 and wore a really nice suit. He had broad shoulders and had the biggest hands. He reminded Chance of the martial artist Jim Kelly but was without Jims signature afro, may Mr. Kelly rest in peace. The lady was professionally pretty, a sandy blonde, with the bluest eyes hed ever seen and hed seen some. Her skirt fell to just below her knees and she wore a simple, satin looking light blue blouse. There was no hiding, though, that she had a nice body and was physically fit. Her calves said she was a tennis player or former athlete of some other running sport. Still the tall man did not speak as the lady, who was almost about 511, would do all of the talking if Chance would learn to shut his mouth.

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What yall doing following me? Chance asked, not use to defeat and still with his arse on the ground. He was also without much of the fight that he had just moments ago. Not answering him instead the man handed the lady the brown folder that he had been carrying. Chance Vernon Johns. Says here youre a senior at Northwestern High School, a Wildcat. All As during your junior and senior years, she stated, now pausing but at no time looking at him as she read. Hmmm, seems you were a hoodlum, more than just a bit of a fuckup during your freshman year. Lots of absences and these grades So what business is it of yours? Chance demanded, standing up and wiping dirt and grass off his shorts and t-shirt. He was still angry but a lot calmer now. And he almost told her about the full ride scholarship he had just been told by the school counselor that hed earned to go to the University of Michigan in the fall. But he had no intention of trying to impress them at all. Chance had figured they were feds, since they were cold, professionally dressed and cocky. For who else would have the nerve to come to the projects and start following him like they owned the place or something? He failed to get them to verbally spare with him by asking if they were pigs, C.I.A., F.B.I. or any other government group that setup the Black Panthers and Martin Luther King. But after she asked, Hows captain Ngdegwood? it suddenly dawned on him that they might be investigating BCN. Not surprisingly, that question troubled him for many different reasons. The main reason being that he could care less about the fate of BCN. I dont know why dont you go and ask him yourself. Chance said defiantly, as the Captain was a Black-belt and she couldnt counter his attacks as smoothly as she had his, Chance thought with confidence. Ignoring him and sticking with the pattern of not looking at him while reading. Although you are a bit of a knucklehead, you can be quite rational when you set your mind to it, she said as a matter of fact. He wanted to say forget you lady but asked instead, What do yall want?

The Flint River curled around the outlet they were on and bent the river into an Sshape on one side and a C-shape on the other. Both sides were very deep, and so
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far none of the youth had been able to swim down to the bottom and bring back mud as proof. The current was strong there and many rumors about people swimming and disappearing added to the rivers fabled power. There was a dam about 5-miles to the north and sometimes it stopped the water and one could then walk out and ride on the back of carps that grew to be as big as dolphins. But even then this area of the river was still very deep even while its banks were an odd combination of dry sand and wet clay. It was hot, school was almost out, which meant that it was time to think about the beach and looking at girls who sometimes wore less than a bikini but not normally. Your country needs you, was her answer to Chances question What do yall want? She didnt even try to sound sincere. Country, what? Chance stammered. Need me for what? Look Chance. You have been identified as a potential Counter Intelligence recruit She went on to explain that they knew that he was studying Arabic, knew a little Spanish and French. They knew he had several physical confrontations with American Black Muslims and had beaten most of his schools bullies in a repeated act to protect those who were being bullied and because of his good grades was rarely ever expelled for fighting at school. She knew that he periodically checked out books from the library about Iran, Libya, and other Middle Eastern countries, and that he had been collecting materials about American White supremacy groups. They knew that he was mostly a self-taught martial artist and got into more than a few fights by coming to the aid of the bullied in the housing projects, too. She also noted that it was interesting that he never used his martial art skills outright during those fights. And she continued on like that for what seemed like another twenty minutes or so. We are prepared to train you if you accept and are willing to serve your country and government. In reality, though, he would be working outside the government, way outside, but he didnt know that yet or even if he would accept now.

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Work for the government? Ah, I dont know, Ill have to think about that one. Good, thats understandable, take your time. You have about two or three minutes to decide or else you will never see or hear from us again. And just like that she closed the folder and they both turned and started walking away. Chance watched with a moment of relief as they walked away when suddenly his mind jumped to a Bruce Lee movie. His mind was racing so fast he couldnt remember the title but it in the Chinese government recruited Bruce Lee to break up a martial art mafia drug and white slavery ring. His reminiscing was broken up as he realized that they were leaving much faster than they came because when Chance looked up again they were almost to the construction site, which was a considerable distance away. Ok, Ill do it, he yelled and Ill do it echoed across and around the lake until the silence of the summer breeze and the thankfulness of chirping birds and burping frogs restored the peace. The two stopped and to absolutely no surprise to Chance they didnt turn around. He started walking towards them, slowly, taking his sweet time. He was both scared and excited as he approached them. What was he doing? He could barely think straight. He didnt trust the government, how could he when they had just gotten busted for spying on Martin Luther King, of all people. Next he had the brilliant notion that he would get on the inside, steal their information and send it to the N.A.A.C.P. or S.C.L.C. Yeah, thats what he was going to do. With that thought he started walking faster towards the man and woman. Atlanta Hotel Room (2013) Earlier that evening, Chance had picked up both of his daughters about five hours after the Hip Hop Writing contest was over, which the young man with the pumped fist won, and where which the courageous young lady who had gotten the $100 bonus money came in second. After their hugs and I miss you and such, he and his daughters were off in their rented limousine to the hair show which made it all seem like a blur. Chance had no intention of going to the hair show; the hair show was just an occasion where he could hang out with his daughters afterwards.
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After they took off Chance was left alone and went to his Atlanta hotel room. Once there Chance remembered a vivid scene from several months ago that took place while they were all visiting his mother who had just retired as a Genesee County Supervisor and who still lived in Flint, Michigan. While in Flint, he and his daughters had visited the Flint Institute of Arts to see an exhibit of M.C. Eschers fractal based art. Despite the deeply moving art, the scene was the two of them being both giggly and googly-eyed while playfully fighting over the last copy of a coffee table book of Renaissance portraits. The book featured on its cover Girl with A Pearl Earring. Googly-eyed and giggling meant being big, bright and clear eyed. It was mostly found with youth and adults who had life filled eyes. Such eyes indicated that the person was full of lifes love and respectful of while being drawn almost uncontrollably to intellectual curiosity. Its the light of hope and seeing straight through to the positive side of life without overdue caution. Its a light that must be fought for and protected by non intrusive sentries. The light had to be protected because cruelties of life dont often trickle in. The cruelties of life often rush in like a tsunami. But when obeying the early warnings, the higher ground saves and preserves that light. And in the preservation theres room to grow and build up what keeps bright, life loving eyes full of a healthy fire and desire for the best in life. Many youth have that light and so did the young lady in Girl with the Pearl Earring. Upon the seeing the pearled girl at the Art Institute both daughters thought she was beautiful, wanted the last copy of the book for probably no reason other than its cover. They probably also remembered their dad answering a Jeopardy question on TV related to the portrait some time ago. That was when Chance still lived in Flint and worked as a dedicated Social and Public Health Interventionist Researcher at the University of Michigan, where one or both of them often tagged along while he worked. As chance would have it he had heard of a gifted jewelry designer, while mentioning the painting casually to a stranger one day. The stranger was telling Chance which art galleries to visit after he finished celebrating his finish at another one of those Black Girls Run 5K races, which were held all around the country. Was the race in Baltimore? D.C.? He couldnt remember exactly, because between them, the Valdosta Running Club and the Black Marathoners (over the years) he had been attending races all across the country and on several continents. Chance believed in exer-cultural vacations. Exer-cultural was his word for
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describing a vacation where both absorbing the local culture and exercise were all part of the plan for relaxation. Cultural education was all about natural flow. As a matter of fact, following his stay in Atlanta with his daughters, he would be back in Flint, Michigan for a weekend to run in the Crim 10-mile Road Race there and would then a few days later travel from Flint to a charity event in Colorado. He planned to take as many of his Valdosta Running Club associates as he could convince to go to Flint with him, too. He also planned to take full advantage of his vocal rest and vacated concert schedule for 2013. Still, he couldnt quite remember where he was at for the Black Girls Run 5K race. He would look up that race information later. But he did remember that the lady there was a Toyota salesperson with whom he had been chatting with occasionally about running on Facebook. She was the one who had invited him to that particular 5K race. Her name was Pam and she was also familiar with the painting and pulled up on her phone the designers name. The designer was Noor Fares. Noor, it turned out, had designed a pendant which featured the renowned renaissance girl. After going to the internet and following up on that conversation in his hotel room, he learned that the designer had also created a ring and broach, and that the portrait of the girl was hand-painted, mind you, on cabochon domes of rock quartz crystal. Chance had ordered two pendants, at $8,835 each for his daughters and had the pendants overnighted to the hotel. He planned to present the pendants to his daughters at breakfast or dinner once they returned from the hair show, which was a combination of a fashion and celebrity sighting show. They had gotten to Atlanta about a week before the show, and enjoyed the parks and sites and being alone with each other thats why Chance didnt mind being alone then. Nevertheless, it would most likely be during dinner when he presented their departure gifts. They probably wouldnt be dropped off by their female limousine driver, who also doubled as their chaperone, until well after 2 A.M. Only their mothers gave them curfews. Either way, theyd be goggly-eyed and giggly whenever they got back. And he was sure to get a genuine hug of approval for that daddys pendant move. Hopefully, theyd hug and kiss his cheeks simultaneously so that he could get the full effect of being overwhelmed by the pride from a captured moment of well accomplished fatherhood.
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Comforted by that last thought, he grabbed his lap top. It was a Lenovo laptop so it also doubled as an iPad. While on it he began working on some new pieces of music he was developing. He unmuted the Bose sound system which came with the room and began to listen to the new artist Laura Mvulas CD, Sing to the Moon. Music from Chrisette Michele or Jill Scott was sure to follow, as he was in a creative mood and today was his off day from training and running. The hotel room was quiet and the big window curtain was open to a view of Olympic Park and a wide awake Atlanta, although it was a little past midnight. Regardless of when his two daughters popped into their adjoining suite, he planned to be awake and working. Theyd expect nothing less. WEARABLE PHONES Graphene was sewn into the lining of belts, suspenders, ties, underwear, shirt collars or cuffs, bras and panties so that just about anything wearable could be programmed with the equivalent of 1,000 Sims cards which in essence could be used as throwaway phones. And like Steve Jobs, who was a recovering hippie with a thirst for innovation, proved in the 1980s any telecommunications network could be accessed without permission and without cost; except for the price thats paid when caught red handed. It pissed the telecommunication giants off but their egos allowed Chances security breaches to remain internal and not part of any sweeping governmental investigation. The breaches were instead handled as a corporate challenge. As far as the corporate executives were concerned their own well paid security intelligence staff would eventually develop a firewall or algorithm that would block or capture the crook or crooks, which in their minds was a short list that included Anonymous, Wikileak sympathizers or misguided converts. What the giant telecommunication industries like Sprint, AT&T, Verizon Wireless and others failed to realize was that they werent up against a rogue supercomputer or some loosely built network of hackers. They were battling something that supposedly did not to exist, a quantum computer. And they were battling it with outdated technology that they considered cutting edge since it was forever being upgraded and had a super computer status. Again, their ego was at work. Their ego was feeding biases by working against those who failed to realize or admit what those biases were.

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Despite wide corporate ignorance, the technology here was built on the assumption that only our biases and conditioned beliefs get in the way of innovation. Steve Jobs shouted that from the mountain tops, and despite the echo from that shout traveling seemingly to infinity down the canyons of knowledge, it was shut off by biases anyway. Thats why many psychologists believed that the ego will either set one free or create many compartments of self-imprisonment, which many refer to as selfdelusions. But lacking those impediments was why this technology was so different and allowed Chance to selectively work off the grid. A part of the laser thin graphene, although amongst the strongest material in the world, was also very conductive. Graphene had much greater conductivity than copper or steel and that conductivity was substantially increased as its temperature was lowered. The closer to zero degrees it got, the more conductive graphene was and it remained in that state. From there the graphene was fashioned like a wafer thin microchip, while other parts could gather unlimited amounts of solar energy for power use and for storage. The result was a custom wardrobe phone, or wearable phone as Chance called it. Actually, a single wearable phone had enough power to provide all of the electrical needs of several homes for a week or more off of just one charge. As for how much energy could be collected, no one really knew but someone in the near future was sure to go to a laboratory to measure, weigh and document the full storage capacity. Or had the Unknown Committee already accomplished that? That question aside, and as was the norm for the technology that Chance got from the Unknown Committee, the wearable phone was overkill to prevent hackers from snooping and to prevent government sourced telecommunication agencies from tracking. It provided a sense of over-efficiency and thus helped the operator maintain a high level of confidence with its use. The phone was flexible and adaptable to those events that would qualify as unintended consequences. With this wearable phone there was no such thing as a battery indicator with low bars or dropped signals from being outside of a network. There was no chance of being outside or inside of a network for the wearable phone also provided for its on Wi-Fi hotspots. And yes, it was also equipped with a distortion field application that would automatically activate

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anytime a drone or satellite attempted to lock onto the users location or pry into any aspect of the users network, to include social networks. The latter aspect really pissed off Goggle who received a red flag whenever there was any unauthorized usage of their site or a spike in information retrieval. But what really pissed them off even more was that they couldnt track or stop the breach and to their warped egos that made the infiltrator smarter than them. So in their minds, this was the warped part, only temporarily smarter; meaning that they wouldnt report what amounted to espionage to the government because Google would inevitably also misclassify it as an internal security breach. Not that it any of it mattered much because even the N.S.A. wouldnt have been able to snoop on the operator of the wearable phone which was far more advanced than Google Glasses. The phone was impenetrable by even the Silicon Valleys best technological advances. Operation of the phone was rather simplistic. Once the voice of the owner was recorded, there was no override. The volume, e-mail and all other functions was voice activated. When the wearer opened their shirt, if thats how it was programmed, Facebook could be projected onto any wall or surface and manipulated via voice regardless of any ambient sounds. The phone weighed only 0.00005 lbs. It was waterproof and virtually indestructible, unlike laptops and Ipads which required careful handling. Interestingly, corporations were full of similar concept devices which work right now. But getting approval of products was just as much a political process as it was capital dependent one. Many products were on hold until they could be scaled up to market as the products were priced well above the range of the average consumer. Still, sometimes it was easier to get into Fort Knox than it was to acquire the technological concepts that werent available on the market. Its amazing what can be bought, borrowed, or cloned from the black market, which Chance considered the only real free market that the world has ever known. Just how the Unknown Committee had managed to obtain such clever devices was unknown too. Recruitment (Flint, MI 1976) Chance had the suspicious Flint River encounter with his followers in June. He had two weeks left before graduating from high school. He was pretty much just cruising alone like seniors typically do, especially since he was on the honor roll with a 4.0 G.P.A. and was well liked. So, of course, the principal, counselors,
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teachers, and others greeted him kindly and never asked him for a hall pass or question any of his comings and goings. Chance wasnt doing much, though, but wondering who those people really were and who they worked for and if they were serious about him working for the government. About a week before his graduation he got his answer. In just that short period of time, they had him and his mother attend a Navy recruitment session. His mom didnt know that it was a fake enlistment. Chance didnt either but he was learning quickly not to be fooled by appearances. His mom, on the other hand, was beaming with pride. Science Committee (Washington, DC 2013) The audience of scientists looked perplexed, wide-eyed like a deer caught in the incoming halogen head lights of a fast approaching BMW. How could so much ice be melted so fast and they not know how it was happening? And furthermore, what kind of technology could cause global warming on an apocalyptic scale and in a manner less than minutes? It was just not possible. Mugged by reality and trying to cling to a denialist position the Scientific Committee neither wanted to nor knew how to deal with the crisis before them. Jimmicas partner was a new hire and had been assigned to her for less than four months. He was still learning how to maneuver around Washington and the many committees that they were tasked with briefing. He looked at Jimmica, who nodded before he interjected, Well, look at it like this then. This quantum computer, which may or may not be linked to the melted ice iceberg that were talking about writes its on algorithms on the fly. It discards the least effective ones for the most effective ones so whoever these people are they are learning about new algorithms that most programmers would never even begin to conceive of. If that sounds scary thats because it is some 10 to 100 years ahead of its time. Actually the huge ice melt was like a reverberation. If they could have witnessed it, they would have seen that it seemed to begin on one end of the ice but actually began on the opposite end. But the reverberation moved so fast and on such an unprecedented scale that satellites could not perceive the wave that gave an optical and technological illusion of being the opposite of what it actually was. Thats why Chances position could never be triangulated by satellites for a global positioning point. In other words, the input to the satellites was wrong from the start, because the input was an illusion, so in turn would be the output of the satellites surveillance results.
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Navy Recruitment

(San Diego, CA 1977)

Chance was considering going AWOL, illegally escaping from his military commitment. He had postponed the acceptance of a scholarship to the University of Michigan and was now in his final week of the Navys basic training. The Navy was promising and all but he hadnt signed on for military service although he had come to bond with a few guys there from Detroit, and a really cool redheaded guy from nearby Farmington Hills, MI who loved the music of Peter Frampton and especially Pink Floyds The Wall like Chance did. Despite his current reservations Chance had helped a lot of those guys get through boot camp. It was natural for him to take the lead and to seek to outdo the other groups of recruits. The Navy both loved and encouraged it. Anthony (Valdosta, GA Summer 2012) Chance had strategically placed some night motion sensor cameras along the creek which bordered his back yard. It was the same type of camera system that photographers for National Geographic used to capture images of rare species in the wild, so being in a creek was easy for those cameras which could be placed in the cold of Siberia in Russia and still operate properly. His man made fishing pond was in the front yard. Chances sculpture and combination Japanese garden was in the western portion of his back yard and bordered by the creek. The creek itself ran alongside Valloton Park and cut through the campus of Valdosta State University. The creek flowed for miles and pretty much served as a natural storm drainage system. Chance had noted the time last night when the frogs stopped croaking. The only reason he didnt go out to check and stalk whatever or whoever might have been out there was because he didnt want to alarm Mya, his new Georgia peach that he had been dating for about half a year now. Mya lived near and worked at Valdosta State University. She was a twentysix year young Assistant Psychology Professor. His last real date before Mya was with Dr. Doll from Atlanta who had tried to feed him like he was a vegan rabbit. Mya had to go to work, so she had left earlier that morning after a light breakfast that was an English muffin and two cups of coffee. She would have left sooner but Chance kept making her laugh. He also kept kissing her and feeling on her booty. She warned him about five times that he was going to make her late for work and to not start something that he wouldnt be able
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to finish. It was all done to see her smile, though. A good morning usually led to a great day when clothed in the spiritual armor of positive vibes. As soon as she left he went down to the creek. Once there Chance waded into the water and pulled back the brush to grab and see if the first camera had been activated. He saw no green activation light for the first one. The red light indicated the same for the second camera. But the third camera, which was directly out beyond his enclosed patio and master bedroom upstairs was activated, the green light was on. Only a large animal or person would typically active the camera or silence the burping frogs. He input the time period he wanted to view into the camera and immediately the image of what looked like a young teenager came into view. Moments later another and maybe even younger boy came into view. They both were crouching on the bank of the creek and looking in the direction of Chances patio. They both eventually disappeared from the cameras view as they climbed from the bank and onto the lawn which lead to the partial botanical garden which was in the eastern portion of his backyard and which was under construction as part of the overall extension of the sculpture and Japanese garden. On the side of his home was a hydroponic green house where he grew fresh fruit and vegetables, and it too was visibly connected to the gardens. Rewinding the camera, he noticed that one of the boys faces looked familiar but Chance could not place where hed seen him before at that moment. Lucky for them they were clearly boys or else Chance would have set an unwelcoming trap should they ever try to trespass on his property again. Instead he chalked it up to voyeuristic driven mischief and did not have to wonder about what the boys were looking at or for. But he did wonder if it was a first time or a frequent occurrence that he was somehow not aware of. And just how much of his and Myas states of nakedness had they observed? He wasnt sure how he was going to handle the intrusion but it would involve not letting Mya know as he wanted her to remain comfortable and plus he would allow the dogs to roam outside at night if it wasnt too hot although the geese out by the front lawn and frogs in the backyard wouldnt like that. Navy Recruitment (San Diego, CA 1977) It was a day of excitement. Chance and the other recruits had on their Navy dress uniforms with their merit badges for sharp shooting, deep sea diving and other medals all on display. Chance liked this part as the uniform was a female magnet.
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He was attracted with caution though, for he missed Joan who was now a senior in high school and who didnt write him frequently enough. They had grown a little more distant ever since he announced that he was enlisting in the Navy. Her response, Im not getting on any boat and going across the ocean. She couldnt swim, which was odd since she was Chances girlfriend and he was the outdoor type but she wasnt. They were like opposites attract in many other ways also. Chance and Joans original plans of him going to medical school at the University of Michigan were ruined as far as she was concerned. How could she explain the change of plans to her mother and friends? She, herself, wasnt all that interested in school but he was and thats right where he belonged she figured. Still, she made sure that he would miss her and gave him a wonderful send off for his escape from Flint. He couldnt escape the excitement of the other recruits, however, and he was just as excited. This was the day that they all were to receive their orders, which meant learning where they would be assigned. California, Hawaii and Japan were all hoped for destinations. Chance, too, was caught up in the spirit of excitement before he was summoned to the base commanders office. But when he got there the commander wasnt there instead both of his Unknown Recruiters were waiting. As usual, he didnt talk and she did. But this time even she didnt say much. Chance still didnt know their names or what government agency they really were from. But his recruiters, as he had come to think of them, simply just had him to go and pack his gear and from that moment on he would never see a naval base again nor was there any official record of his having ever been there. Anthony (Valdosta, GA Summer 2012) Chance was at the Family Dollar store on North Ashley Street. He stopped there on his way home after running with a group from the Valdosta Running Club, of which he was a member. Family Dollar was where he got his Gatorade, trailnuts, gum, chocolate fix and toiletry items. He was probably the only millionaire that shopped there, although few in Valdosta knew that he was rich since he lived modestly and only introduced himself as retired from the University of Michigan, which he was in a way. More importantly the manager at this particular store was cute as heck, Lebanese or Latino maybe. More importantly, he liked the way she treated her young Black employees with outward respect and did all of the same jobs that she asked them to do, instead of managing from a distance like some small minded overlord micro-managers do.
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Chance never hit on her though. That impulse was squashed by her professional demeanor and the prospect that she probably didnt date her customers. Anyway he and Mya were seeing each other more frequently and although she was much younger than he, there seemed to be little drama potential in her. And the sex was better than expected, although she was wearing him out but he loved it with a smile. Taking his time and noticing the managers absence, she was probably at lunch or in the back, he excused himself as he walked by a young man who was restocking a shelf near the oral hygiene display. Chance was about to squeeze on by him and his ladder, which took up most of the aisle, before he glanced up and hesitated. No it couldnt be. Was it one of the young men in the tape? No it couldnt be because the oldest one looked 15 maybe 16 years old. Didnt you have to be 18 to work here? He wondered. Then it dawned on him the young man on the ladder could pass for 16 with his boyish looks. Pretending to need direction, Chance looked up again and asked where the pad locks were so that he could read the young gentlemans name tag, which read Anthony. Chance made note of it and thanked him for his help. Youre welcomed sir, Chance heard him say from the ladder as he continued to where the young man had directed him. His youthful innocence bothered Chance for another reason. It was around the time of the Trayvon Martin murder and the non-arrest of his crazed profiling vigilante. Even Whites who were vocally opposed to thugs were upset about that one. And every time Chance saw an Arizona tea can, which was also one of his favorite beverages or a bag of Skittles he could not help but think about that young mans senseless death, as had so many others. Just as bad there was Kendrick KJ Johnsons on -going investigation from his death, which Chance believed was murder, at Lowndes High School. It seemed as if as soon as he and thousands if not millions of others were able to take a deep breath and wait out the slow crawl towards justice that a fresh incident would occur to reawaken the old wounds of injustice. Thats why he had run 10-miles instead of his customary 5-miles with the running group. He needed to blow off the steam and not let it turn to hatred, plus he was training for the Crim 10 miler in Flint, which took place during the 4 th Saturday of August. It helped that most of the runners with him were White and just as perplexed by the surrounding circumstances and that many White people
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were at the downtown Valdosta rallies in peaceful protest right alongside Blacks, Hispanics and Asians. There were so many cool White people, from the antislavery Quakers until now who just didnt get the credit that they were due in the fight s for social justice. Some aspects of society looked well like it was 2012, and other aspects looked bad like it was 1962. Unfortunately, neither the run nor or the fellow runners and their empathy was enough at the moment to squash another round of disbelief regarding the American criminal justice system. Terrorist Torture (Syria 2011) Chance was a dual personality, sort of like Wayne Brady was when he pretended to gangsta terrorize Dave Chappelle. Like Wayne, Chance was a handsome and non-threatening looking Black man. Chance was comfortable with the White inspired sensibilities of social politeness, non-overt violent communities, readily apparent social order, non-parasitic and network oriented religion, and Western based educational ideologies. The duality that rose from underneath that was a drug dealers sense of entrepreneurship, violence as a social means of negotiating, raw-untarnished profanity for expressed non-mixed message communication, lewd and repressive expressions of sexuality, and applying the inheritance of social disorder and an overall fuck you if you fuck with me attitude. To Chance, Black Pantherism, Malcolm X-ism and other counter cultures to the Civil Rights Movement was where the Hip Hop generation got their distorted attitude of respect at any cost from. Thats also why Chance was calm as an ice cube and would take a seat and patiently wait after he poured a petri-dish full of flesh eating bacteria onto his captives exposed balls. With flesh being the buffet, there wasnt room enough at the table of his scrotum so many of the bacterium migrated to his anus. Still calmly watching the effect take place that was not visible to the naked eye but no less violent, the tortured man would begin to talk for all of his pain was about to be nerve centered. Although it wasnt part of the initiative of the probe, this was how Chance found out about the manufacturing plot, that he later e-mailed to Jimmica, when he was really probing for suicide bomber plots. Sometimes he just loved unintended consequences.
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For an Arab and stereotype, he was well hung. But that didnt help as he felt the ciliated movements of the bacteria working its way into his pee hole, from which blood started to trickle. He didnt scream or feel the pain until he saw the blood. It was like reminding his brain to alert him to the pain of being eaten from within. Earlier, it was explained to the kidnapped Arab that the sooner he talked about the plots the sooner the pain would end. And tell me everything. Those open ended statements were what lead to the manufacturing plot, because the kidnapped terrorists instinctive need for survival kicked in and so did the reasoning of leaving no stone, plot in this instance, unturned. Out of the pain and mix of fear, the terrorist feared that his torturer might know if he was lying and holding out. And the pain he was experiencing was nothing like the antiinterrogation pain described in his terrorist backed anti-interrogation trainings. Thats why Chance had chosen him. He was young, 24, and the nephew of a field organizer for al-Qaida. He even had their black nationless flag on his person when Chance captured him as he took a piss after leaving from his clandestine visit with a local prostitute who doubled as his familys housekeeper. All of the young single men shared her. In times of war, there was little thought of marriage. But in the young terrorists mind he and the others were still devout Muslims who must kill all infidels. Chance was an infidel so there was easily a complete lack of empathy for both the young jihadist and his uncles. Because of the Arabs uncle Chance knew that just the dinner table talk, with the rants and raves alone would often be filled with plot references and motivations for eyeing certain targets. Bedroom and table talk was the best areas to seek reluctant informants. As a rule, all silent codes for secrets breakdown as they age and as they are internally leaked further on down the chain to those who dont need to know. The later was especially true in India, Pakistan and Syria where one could get just about anything and any information from a woman, especially a student or a neglected wife in a harem, if they could obtain a certain amount of gold as the promised reward. Gold was haggled over but never rejected. And the will to live and spend that gold ensured their silence. There was no gold involved this time just pain

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The victimizing victim was strapped in a chair and had reminded Chance of Kumar, a Rapper from India, who once tipped Chance off about a plot to kidnap him, the Black and rich American Rapper during a concert in England. Chance never heard from Kumar again, who was a Sunni Muslim, after the foiled plot. But even without Kumars help, Chance had a feeling that the Asian Sistahs would have intervened. Although he didnt see them he now knew they were somehow nearby with him while he was unlawfully in war torn Syria. Chance missed Kumar, but like many Sunnis and Shiites before the Arab Spring, plenty of Muslims and foreigners who were friends and traders before the uprisings were now enemies who were pushed into sectarian groups through the stealth of dictators, religious leaders, legitimate governments and government recruited warlords. Unfortunately to Chance, it was rather easy to get people to hate others who appear strange or because they were different from what was expected. But due to the current circumstances, Chance didnt really care about who his captive favored. He had vital information and Chance had retrieved from his captive far more than he was seeking. The young man would probably be killed after being debriefed by his uncles and friends shortly after Chance released him. But for now it was a welcomed relief that he felt as Chance sprayed an antidotal anti-biotic onto the areas where the flesh-eating bacteria had been slowly doing its damage. Chance knew it was working rapidly by the look of relief on the Kumar look a likes face Chance untied him and he almost fell out of the chair. He was still weak and drowsy from the blood loss and was aching from the scar tissue that was painful healing within his dick and ass. It would take a little more than an hour for him to be able to walk. All he would be able to report was that a very tall nonracially identifiable man with a slight American Arab accent and white gloves and who wore a batman mask had kidnapped him. By then Chance would be out of Syria and into the friendlier frontier of Jordan, from where he would fly back to the Indian border. India was his cover and was where he was supposedly at with the other American celebrities who were all taking in a week long Bollywood like festival, which Chance was thankful not to be in as the fan sought Insubordinate due to his publicly mandated vocal rest. Trudy Mother and Taylors Mother (Flint, MI 1994) Taylor was cute as heck with her shiny, slightly darkened and naturally dirtyblonde hair. Taylor was his youngest daughter but he was estranged from her due
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to her mother having made a rather casual and idol threat of hiring someone to kill him. Had she not been his daughters mother, he would have killed her for certain. But instead he thanked God that she had married a Swedish millionaire and moved out of the country. That happened before Chance was officially rich and now that he could have a relationship with his daughter without mommy interference, it was all good, healthy and the bond was strong as if formed by a chemical like reaction of independence and the absence of second and third party controls that only served as interference. Trudys mother was different. She was bi-sexual. But when she and Chance first started to date she claimed to be homo-uninterested, What can a woman do for me, except lick it? Or, "I'm strictly dickly," which she was not. Although they were both living in Flint at the time, they met while working at a Ford Supplier in New Hudson, Michigan. Chance was the foreman there and she worked in Quality Control. She was Black Indian pretty, with real waist length hair and artist visualized breasts. Her name was Sahara. Sahara always looked very nice and tried her best to dress conservatively; although her body had other ideas. And the more the other women hated her hair is a weave the more they made themselves look bad. No matter what she did though, she couldnt hide from being sexy, so just about all of the guys hit on her except for Chance. He didnt date the women that he worked with. That personal policy of his, of course, made her more interested in him. So she slowly sucked him in, rather intentionally or unintentionally, with the feminine appeal to his hero complex. As a matter of pride for some men, Chance was a definite I can save you woman man. Back during the mid-1990s, Chance was an occasional drinker and marijuana smoker. That party mix was mostly used as cover to blend in as a real, flawed guy and rising Rapper. That way he could camouflage the real reason why he worked at Ford, which was corporate espionage. While working through a second tier supplier, Chance could waltz right on into Fords corporate headquarters and be on official business. And like clockwork, after speaking and getting to know the names of just a few of the line workers and office workers, he would become a familiar visitor to them and from there loose lips began to show how they sink ships.

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Then there were also the office file drawers that were too frequently left unattended and computers files left open. And the servers were usually on what Chance called ghost floors, floors where few workers and were allowed. Security was the geek or two who maintained the servers and they were frequently absent as they could monitor their work off site. Loose lips sink ships aside, while pretending to be just one of the guys hed go to bars after work with co-workers to places like Lyon Township, Howell or Brighton. On one occasion in Lyon, Sahara was there. After mingling with others, he and she got to talking and became cool after that. Then after a few more occasions of bumping into each other after work, they were at a party in Detroit. The party was thrown by the warehouse worker and drug dealer, who was like most Detroiters cool and laid back. He was a dealer who didnt use his own product and who stayed under the radar for the years that Chance was there, probably because he extended credit and didnt press too hard for repayment. At the party, after much wine and food, Chance started to notice that other men had been backing off of Sahara when he was around. That and some women were giving him that look, like he and Sahara were a pair or something. Still, Sahara seemed cool, she had the most beautiful smile and after too much drinking opened up to him about how her two childrens father raped her from the time she was 16 to 24 years young. Both of her parents had passed when she was just 15 years young, in an airplane accident, and her older brothers quickly became drug dealers and bargain based protectors of her. Her rapist baby daddy was a contractor and married to her older sister. Like a flipped version of the madness in the Color Purple, rape of nieces by uncles, cousins, boyfriends and step dads was at one time the norm and its prevention required the constant vigilance of church going aunts. She had two children by the villain and the story of her plight and pain touched his heart. Her sisters husband was also her landlord and had controlled her finances before she got the temp position at the plant. She was desperate, as most temps didnt usually make it past 90 days and Chance, a sucker for heroism, was pretty much sucked in. Although they didnt sleep together for the first 30 days or so after Chance made sure she was hired permanently one of his co-workers, Becky, who was Vanessa Williams-fine and with a similar elegance and grace, disapproved of what she saw developing between Chance and Sahara. Chance listened, as he respected Beckys opinion, but he didnt hear her.
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Eventually they slept together. The sex was ok, more like a duty on Saharas part. She definitely wasnt Joan, with whom the sex was always good and which kept getting better and better, or wetter and wetter as Chance referred to their codependency love. Codependency? Sex was virtually the only glue to hold their relationship together. Sahara got pregnant by way of a broken condom. Chance had never experienced a broken condom for he and Joan never used a condom. Joan was on the pill, sometimes. Chance knew something wasnt right because the depth of Sahara was feeling too good, much better than at any other time. Then in his thirties, and although a disciplined killer and information thief, he had the sexual impulse control of an adolescent when about to get a nut. After he exploded in her, and since it was all the better since it was one of the few times that she actually came from penetration and couldnt hold back the sensations of being out of control from their simultaneous orgasm, Chance pulled out real late to reveal that he had punched clear through the condom. Damn, you Chance, she had said then seeing the condom covering only half of his penis. Saharas face seemed torn between pleasure and displeasure, in other words she had looked even more beautiful to him at that moment. It broke. I can see that and it aint funny, Chance. Chance was smiling and barely containing a laugh during what should have been a serious and borderline disappointing circumstance. Youre pregnant. Dont say that shit, she said, sounding a little more serious. And during their moment of silence, while trying to find the right words for the situation, she got to thinking about how he was always right about so many things. How do you know? He wanted to say because outside of Joan that was the most powerful orgasm Ive had in sometime, but instead said, Trust me, youre pregnant and its a girl. In short, thats how Trudy was conceived. Condom be damned, Im coming into this world.

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Like many, Chance took too many sexual Chances prior to the AIDs crisis. Because of Joan and the failure to impregnate one or two other young ladies, while all of his teenage buddies were baby making machines, Chance really believed he was infertile and was afraid to get medical confirmation. He and Joan had been having sex since he was 16 and she 14. They both had pretty much learned about sex from one another. What he didnt know was that she was having many side-effects from taking the pill and that women just didnt discuss such matters with non -listening and non-hearing men. It would have just been a waste of time, anyway, since men just dont understand anything that doesnt lend itself to what they want. As a young man Chance was that type of man. He was softened by her. Joans body was perfect, her voice soft and sweet and her eyes were always full of love for him. He was addicted to her and the feelings that provided. And she in turn professed to feel very safe and protected when with him and she was addicted to that sense of security. Plus he always seemed to have money, although she had no idea where it came from and instinctively knew not to ask. Still, unknown to him, she had had two separate and secret abortions. She had one abortion when she was 19 and the other when she was just 25. There were many mission oriented interruptions during their 33 year on and off again relationship and that gave her plenty of room to cover her tracks. Plus her family disapproved of him and his family disapproved of her, so that didnt help matters. Although their splits usually lasted merely a few months, once they got into their mid-20s their breakups were less frequent but lasted a lot longer when they did occur. They mostly argued over his traveling and her insecurities involved him being with other women, which was not true as his horniness upon his returns home was his positive and horny proof of that. Their longest breakup lasted six years and brought them to their late thirties. It was also a period where Chance had Trudy and Joan had a daughter by someone else, too. Sometime at the end of that six year break Joan bumped into one of Chances aunts who gave Joan his phone number. And as usual, Chance was single, mad at Sahara and sick of the other women he dated and their baggage claim of broken hearts, lost loves, insecurities and teenage like phone monitoring. Chance had not too long finished college, worked a short stint at a local newspaper, and had now been working at the University of Michigan after

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transitioning away from the Ford Supplier. He was glad to see Joan and they had a lot of catching up to do. Back into the sack he and Joan went. But his time it was different. The sex was good but this time that goodness would be short lived. There was a deep desperation about her and a strong sense of loneliness. She also had a picture of some pimp dressed guy in a hat or her dresser. Chance learned that he had a key to her apartment but that he never came around anymore. Chance used to be the guy with that key, and he always came around. Chance hardly dranked at the time and all other drugs were off limits also. He was consumed by anti-terrorist activities at the time and was getting more serious about Soul Rapping, which was a new genre he was developing but which he said he was reviving. Joan didnt know about either development. But trying to resist Joan was like fighting the Borg in Star Trek, resistance was futile; except for that time. He learned that she had uterine cancer and could only say, I know when he reminded her about all of his years of preaching about fibroid tumors and her need to go get checked out during their 1980s and 1990s dating. As usual, she ignored his advice and he had messed up by allowing her to ignore it. And as usual, his misread her reasons for seemingly ignoring his advice. Love should have made him take her to the doctor and in hind sight she would have gone as it was fear of going to the doctor alone that had prevented her from going in the first place. Such was the state of the illiteracy of reading into intent. Prior to being recruited by the Unknown Committee in the late 1970s, Chance was on the fast track to medical school and pursuing his teenage dream of becoming a psychoanalyst and exposing Freud as a fraud. Chance was so gifted in Psychology, Microbiology, Anatomy, Algebra, and Chemistry that everyone who knew him thought it would be just a matter of time before he became a doctor. He had even earned a full-ride scholarship to the University of Michigan. But as usual, his studies would not be as sharp, or so it seemed, when he was with Joan. That was the main reason his family disapproved of Joan and why his mom would always introduce him to the daughters of respectable doctors and educators, who could be found at Urban League, NAACP, Democratic and other progressive social meetings at the time.

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The parents at those meetings would inevitably love Chance because few teenagers could carry on a full conversation with men and women then or now. But he was not so interested in their beautiful doll-like but shallow daughters. And ten or more minutes of silence between them confirmed that. There was nothing to talk about, no reference point to connect too. But as for the former reference, Chance felt hurt and betrayed by the two abortions. He often ranted and asked, what kind of law would allow her to kill his sons without at least having to consult him first? It was her body but 13 of his chromosomes was the scientific proof that his DNA was in her and that the state shouldnt be able to veto that fact like it had. One of Joans appeals to Chance, beside her head to toe beauty, was that she was sweet, kind and he never ever caught her in a lie. She was nice, open and completely honest. And the fact that it was her mother that made her reveal the truth hurt even more. He had always wanted to marry Joan. No other woman would do but whenever they got close to marriage she would do something outrageous, usually argue and bring up his travels or his cheating 19 years ago, when he was a teenager, or just simply accused him of not being serious and then disappear for a while. But he was serious about abortion. He had always considered it murder. During his rants, she said that she did too. The first abortion he reckoned was probably orchestrated by her functioning alcoholic mother. But what was her excuse for the second abortion? She was 25 then. Although he didnt know it he was still paying heavily for leaving her alone to make the decisions that they both should have been making jointly. So he was as much to blame for the abortions as she was; only later Chance wouldn't quite see that social equation. All he would see was what he would feel and what he would feel was the pain of a deep and irretrievable loss. He wouldnt see that no one should have to make hard choices alone or apart from the person or people most affected. Twice her protection wasn't there when it was most needed. That absence contributed as much to the worse possible decisions regarding life and death as had anything else. One of the abortions probably occurred before he returned to the U.S. from a student-exchange program. He used the program as cover to slip from Egypt into Libya where he had completed his torture and interrogation mission. Joan just kept delaying telling him as his delight for seeing her made it just that much harder to do.
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So of course upon his return he was horny as heck and had occasionally been corresponding by letter with Joan, during the 1990s before e-mail was developed well enough to displace mail. He wrote to her about the promises of love and the missing of each others embrace and company. He needed her back then and wanted her so badly that he rushed back to the U.S., where they ripped off one another clothes. But in 2006, the last time they tried to be a couple, she was sour. She was sourly and bitter about the life she had and angry about her preventable but not prevented cancer. She was also sour because the chemotherapy was more poisonous than anything else. Sometimes Chance could even taste the chemos side effects when sucking her nipples. Worse, the wild hormonal imbalances caused frequent unpleasant odors to come from her vagina. And she also had a hysterectomy due to the cancer. Chance would have comforted her through all of that but she was too ashamed by the secrets she held and the unusual condition she was in to seek comfort. The hysterectomy, in a way, was why they were together then. The picture of the pimp dressed guy in the hat on her dresser was a co-worker. He was a janitor and she was a nurse at Hurley Hospital in Flint where she worked and where Chances cousin, Vernita worked and had died from complications due to surgery there. The guy on her dresser had told her that she was less than a woman, only half a woman without her uterus. That piece of information was shared well before the abortion scandal was shared, so the gallantry that all men consider healthy under challenging circumstances reinforced the hero complex in Chance and drew him closer. It really came naturally because he loved Joan and she could never be half a woman in his eyes. He also thought that she would never lie to him, either. Sex and her honesty were the two things that kept their fragile, second and third party ruled love alive. Now the sex was a chemically poisoned fruit and the truth as the foundation of teenage inspired love was shattered by the forced complications of adulthood and messy emotions. And despite all of that they tried for eighteen months to repair the damage that they both had done. It required a great deal of internal strength but maybe thats why Chance grew from bitterness to embracing the joy and pain with the same intensity. He learned from hurt to embrace the people and thoughts which fed the spirit and kept
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them both alive, and to feed from the words and vibes in the world which allowed both to continue to love and hug more deeply. Those were the times when he would read Susan Taylors collection of essays In the Spirit or Khalil Gibrans The Prophet. When he needed spiritual help, he didnt rely on himself he leaned on others. Just as Joan had leaned on him but with burdens that were too heavy to bear. After learning about their mutual burden he buried himself in work and found solace in his daughter. He had Taylor a few years later. It was also during the eighteen months of trying to stick it out that Joan began to drink and curse more in a drunken rage. Then when she refused to stop smoking cigarettes, even when Trudy came around, he couldnt take any more. She knew it, so they pretended that she was leaving him for all of the old reasons from their youth. Chance not only resigned from being with Joan he would also in a few years retire early from his job at the University of Michigan. His Rap career was beginning to explode and he never even shared much about that aspect of his life with Joan, for he was still hustling mixed-tapes then while living with a mixed-up woman as a mixed-up man. Daughters Leaving Atlanta (Summer 2013) His daughters never left Atlanta without first eating some BBQ or left Valdosta without first loading up on pecans. They got their pecans from the South Georgia Pecan Company; or rather Trudy got gift baskets for Taylor, her mom, and several others to take back with her to Flint and Grand Blanc Michigan when she got on her flight which left in less than seven hours for Trudy and for Taylor less than five hours. In the meantime they were headed up I-75 to Acworth for Zeiglers ribs. That previous night they did come in around 3:30 AM and both sat on the couch with their dad, as their excitement from all of what they had seen and experienced came to an end with them both sleeping on opposite shoulders of their dad. It had been a long two weeks for all of them. Those two weeks were jammed packed with a hair show, shopping, movies, outdoor concerts, waterparks and other activities. And thats where they were, one on each of his shoulders, when they all woke up about 5-hours later, which was much too soon. Upon awaking, they all hurriedly showered and changed clothes. The girls also packed and they all checked out of from their hotel which was gracious enough to give them a 60-minute extended checkout period.
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Instead of being googly-eyed, their brows were raised and their eyes got bigger as they took in the smoked rack of ribs, apple slaw, fried pickles, mac and cheese, and spicy corn nuggets. Trudy would eat nearly as much as her dad, while Taylor would allow him to put her leftovers in his to-go box to take back with him to Valdosta. With a mouth full of food, they werent the least bit giggly either. There were lots of mmmms this is good and smacking sounds and licked fingers. After every one had their fill and Trudy tried to get everybody to order desert so she wouldnt have to eat it alone, she and Chance settled on splitting desert. It was also a good time to present their Girl with the Pearl Earrings pendant, which Chance nodded to the waitress who awaited his signal to bring to their table. FARKing AND THE WORLDS OLDEST RAPPER Watch What U Do Hey, bro, watch the things that u do Dont slip or fall because I might want 2 FARK with u Hey bro, u better watch the things that u say Because we the people wont have it any other way (2012)

Step back Jack, to your family values we aint never going back The good ole days, 1950s, 1960s were bad for most thats a fact Step back, no more goons in the front & Blacks 2 the back of the bus Now its 2012 and Soul Rap is making more than a ruckus

HOOK You better watch the things that u do Because I might want 2 FARK with u You better watch the things that u say And not be afraid to lay them out in a better way
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We have already overcome Join us if you want to get some FARKing was (before it was canceled) sort of like The Burn with Jeff Ross, once one of Chances favorite shows; especially when Aisha Tyler was on it. The topics were chosen according to either a set format or just offhandedly according to the current events of the day. And the Rapper free styling, for hours sometimes, had to stay on that topic or tie the topic into another topic, and so on. The musicians or Djs had to also adapt to the topic and create a beat on the fly. Some of these informal sessions actually made it into unedited recordings. For as most creative people know, the afflatus or inspiration once loss can rarely ever be recaptured in its full strength. Thats why some song writers and writers would rarely if ever be caught without a pen or paper or some kind of recording device. Inspiration, the afflatus, was a gift from God that could fade away as quickly as it had arrived. But the real FARKing was one song which went on for hours and FARKing concerts would last for days, with non-stop Soul Rapping, no breaks, just constant changing of styles and rhythms. The reason Chance was the King of FARKing was because he could draw from the likes of Gil Scott Heron, James Brown and others, not as a sampler but as one who grew up on the music. So he could Side B a challenger and loose them, many would just laugh it off, maintaining pride in defeat, and let Chance go at. Then Chance would change the topic to something he knew his challenger could handle and then let them take off. It was a way out and left the challenger unembarrassed, thats why Chance was respected. He was in it for the Art and only pretended to want the glory. Hey, its entertainment he would say. Most of it was an act, plain and simple. The Flight of the Afflatus and Meditative Insights across the Storms of Urban Life was also a 7 year old musical Blog that Chance authored to promote FARKing. It chronicled the lyrics and hosted a library of the videos from many FARKing events. It was huge, with over 12,650,000 people who had subscribed to or viewed the YouTube version of the blog. Another aspect of FARKing was that the word FARK could be translated into an acrostic that stood for: Fearless Artists of Reignited Knowledge. Insubordinate also liked how FARKing organically pleased the ear as far king.
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Both of those points were also explained in the blog the Flight of the Afflatus by Insubordinate. Chance didnt have a personal twitter account, but his daughters managed one for him and he had close a million followers there, too. His daughters knew how to make money from all sorts of angles using social media. And if it wasnt an event that would go viral, they didnt touch it. They made money off their dad, with and without his permission. But the most viewed aspect of Chances Blog was Quest Loves NYU Classic Albums Course along with Chances YouTube analytics of people who complained about todays rap artists. Complaints aside, many people didnt know that Quest Love taught classes about old school music and that many of his classes were recorded and posted on Chances Blog and on YouTube. The instant message comments about the classes were off the chain. Within the comments many people were just raving about the parts of their own musical history that they werent aware of. It made them get more serious about their craft and to treat it more like work and a business. Being a part of that give and take also provided a joyful lift and a spark of pleasure amid lifes daily pressures. Charity Event & CIA Operative (End of summer: Denver, CO 2013) Chance was at a ski resort for a well catered charity event in Colorado. Ice Cube had asked him to be there. That was the least Chance could do for the Cube since he gave Chance a meaningful role in his last movie although no one remembered anything Chance did in it, except for a few diehard fans. All eyes were on the more talented man Ice Cube. Come to think of it, Chances own daughters had never even mentioned him being in the movie that he knew they watched because they were huge movie and music fans of Cube. Ice Cube was up on the stage giving out awards, auctioning charity items and making the rich crowd laugh. Chance could see fine, fine, Kelly Rollins at a VIP table along with several other stars near the stage. The rest of the people Chance assumed were rich Coloradoans or whatever they called people born in Colorado. It was only one week into September and already there were forecasts for blizzard like conditions. It was still the end of summer for Christ sakes, Chance complained to himself regarding the cold. Well at least it was still summer in Georgia. At Chances table sat an investment banker and his wife, both of whom Chance found knowledgeable; an artificial snow making executive and his wife
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who both had teeth that were way too white and who Chance all but ignored. There were also two guys who introduced themselves as Angel investors but who looked more like Italian mafia in their Armani suits and their supermodel dates and another corporate looking guy who Chance assumed was waiting for his wife or date. Chance rarely used his celebrity status to better a social position regarding VIP and other areas of access but would have had he known Kelly Rollins was going be sitting there. She was looking better than ever, if that was possible. There was a ping on Chances BlackBerry, which everyone was telling him to ditch and hop aboard the Apple iPhone train. Chance pulled the phone out of his pocket. Chance almost flinched when he looked at it. His head inched back a little as his smile deepened. The people at his table were nosey but tried not to seem so but he didnt realize that one way or another. His was a face of delight and Chance didnt even hear the sudden silence at his table and the ones nearby. He opened the e-mail attachment. It was the faces and voices of his two daughters. It had been several weeks since their departures from Georgia. Although separated by the Atlantic Ocean, they had edited down and merged a single video of themselves modeling their pendants while dressed identically as the portrait of Girl with the Pearl Earring. Obviously, Trudy and Taylor had tracked down the jeweler and purchased the ring and broach which they were also sporting in the video. How could anyone decide which daughter was cuter? Then he also wondered if and when they would profit from this adorable fooling around of theirs. It was probably already posted to YouTube and poised to go viral. They ended the short piece with the unison of words that make daddies worldwide proud to be daddies. We love you dad and thanks again for the pendants, your gift from the heart. And with a lot of unsynchronized we love you, they went all giggle and googly-eyed as the short video piece faded and left the trailing words we love you dad on the screen in purple. It was only after everyone starting clapping that Chance realized that he was being watched. There had been a break up on the stage and a DJ was playing music. But Chance didnt care that they were looking because he was proud and totally forgot to be angry or at least firm about his part-time Angels hacking him and going on Oprah with the material, something he found out about almost a year after the fact.
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But wasnt he being hypocritical since he hacked them back? He didnt get a chance to wonder long. Right then he was really unconcerned about his own hypocrisy and in love with reality as he looked to his right and there stood Kelly Rollins, looking like a model and actress in her white and black matching, curve hugging outfit. The rest of the people at the table were focused on her also. I really liked your song Hood to the Rescue. Dont be surprised if you get a petition from me to re-do it, Kelly said, smiling, as Chance was momentarily stunned that she even knew who he was. She was now walking away, working the room but he hoped that she had heard his, Thank you Ms. Kelly, before she turned to go. But then again he had hoped she hadnt heard because that response was anything but a hip or cool response and it actually sounded old. But was she one of the ones who clapped? Did she see any part of the video? He hoped so, for he knew how women loved good fathers. But he really liked Mya, and he was borderline cheating, so he just calmed himself and appreciated Kellys beauty for what it was.

Chance learned that the name of the man sitting alone at his table was Tom Sword. Since he and Chance were the only two uncoupled people at their 12-person table, they eventually spoke and a conversation was struck up. Tom always made sustained eye contact when he spoke. His own eyes were a light aqua and shimmered when even a faint light bounced off of them. He had perfect teeth, a chiseled chin and the overall bearing of a White man who was perfect in the contained world of business, banking or finance. He was a Harvard man and Chance was sure that his political views twisted in ways that Chance would consider offensive. In other words, Chance wasnt likely to neither receive nor share any deep political or religious positions with the overly pleasant stranger. Both were topics of discussion that could easily take a causal conversation to something unpleasant and definitely unpredictable. Anyway, Tom was probably a radical individualist who followed one or more of Ayn Rands small herds of conservatism as an idea to be followed. With his name being Tom Sword, the sword, hed joke after leaning in close to Chance so as not to be over heard, was what he gave to some lucky lady. He failed to realize that she wasnt much of a lady if she was with someone who wasnt much of a gentleman. He was handsome so the latter matter of character probably mattered less than it should.
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Turned out that Tom remembered Kelly Rollins but also revealed he was out of touch when he asked, Doesnt she sing with that pretty gal who was in Dream Girls? Beyonc. Yes, thats her. No. Shoot Kelly had been encouraging Kisses Down Low all year on one of her singles from her current solo career and it seemed like every top R&B artist and Rapper was trying to have her make an appearance on their CD. Tom was definitely out of touch. Nice or not, Tom seemed out of place and Chance didnt trust him because liking him came too easy. Like it was practiced by a person who knew which like me buttons to push. They hadnt even been talking that long and on more than two occasions Tom tried to talk Chance into taking him out later that evening. That was probably code for take me around some tender dark meat. Drugs would have probably come up later after the first request was honored and hopefully charged with agreed or misunderstood expectations. Going out to clubs just wasnt Chances thing because he liked clubs and clubs were addictive. Plus he wasnt from Colorado and wanted to get back to his hotel room alone to conduct business and be productive. The charity was just a needed break from technology and a privilege to support Ice Cube. Chance only had his phone with him because he forget to put it in the trunk of his rental, and because of that call from his daughters he was now glad that he had forgot. Chance wondered too if Tom were D.E.A. and not C.I.A. Maybe he thought that the Rapper Insubordinate was a big time drug dealer or at least was linked to one or two of them and that he could be flipped. All drug dealers could be flipped according to Toms world. If so Tom hadnt done his homework, which few agents ever did when they didnt respect the position of the potential opponent. Despite their years of training, undercover Intelligence operatives werent always smart as no one can teach smart and instinct. Anyone who knows the first names of certain people when its supposed to be the first time theyve met had most definitely already had a meeting or two about that person or people, or at the very least had already researched their profiles or biographies. Chance had not
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told him or anyone at the table that he was Rapper, yet Tom knew well in advance of Kelly's remark. Thats probably why the fewer details an operative had to remember the better one was able to remember just what they needed to know and no more. In terrorist sponsoring states a slip of the tongue could get one hung. Thats one more reason why Chance preferred to work alone; he didnt want to die because of some operatives mistake. And men who chewed tobacco or said dude or said pretty pimped or really pimped and were whiskey drinkers, simply presented telltale signs of a likely being an undercover operative. Tom said all of the dude stuff, claimed he needed a whiskey and that he wasnt about to chew tobacco in front of all these pretty women. Chance would later learn that Tom was there for a Conference. As a matter of fact he would be the keynote speaker of a conference that Chance was there to gather Intelligence on. It wasnt pre-planned on Chances part; the conference just coincided with the date of Ice Cubs charity event. And there was no way that Tom could have known Chance was going to be there, or did he know since the conference was about Intelligence Security?

Jimmica Receives a Self-Destruct E-Mail (2011) Jimmica new immediately that the e-mail she had just received was from the unknown terrorist, Chance, because it came into her office in the same untraceable way as had several other communications about terrorist activity and other classified and equally sensitive matters. The terrorist had said in an early e-mail that she had been chosen by him in order to help prolong her political career. About that he had a point for right now she was indispensable as Jimmica was the first to communicate about Chance and as a result she was now in consultations with powerful government officials many of whom she hadnt even known were in Washington. But an even earlier e-mail from him about infrastructure sabotages, she already knew about and was already trying to build protocols around. Only now he had the names of terrorist networks that she wasnt even aware of and which had been confirmed as plotting to hit Western facilities. Still the unknown terrorist could definitely learn a thing or two about skipping the lengthy and redundant tirades and just sticking to the vital points
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regarding his messaging, she mentally complained. No doubt, they would definitely clash over procedural styles if they were ever agency collaborators instead of the stalked and stalking. Or was it the stalking and stalked? Either way right now she had to get to the President because she had no idea who else had received a copy of the most recent disturbing news that the latest email contained. Well there was probably one other person who got it, she thought quickly, as she saw the line from the Vice Presidents office light up on her secure phone line. He rarely called her unless something was near or in full crisis mode. So after receiving brief instructions from the Vice President she hastily gathered everything she had on the now known but unnamed terrorist and proceeded to the Oval Office. Concert Tours Canceled (2013)

Insubordinate, Chances rap persona, had such a successful and wonderful run in 2011 and 2012 that he wasnt doing any concerts or musical appearances while requests for him were high and spiking. He cited bruised vocal chords and family obligations when questioned by the media, fans, a potential artistic collaborator, or just some nosey person. The bruised vocal chords were true. He took advantage of the canceled tours to train and relax, work on the lyrics for his 2014 album release, work his eBook of poems and essays The Flight of the Afflatus along with his musical oriented culture blog of the same name. He also wanted to grow his business Re-Use-It, a business that he started slowly a few years ago, and to determine if he should accept the assignment to rub out the fake Rug Dealer who was in Washington D.C. of all places. Presidents E-Mail, Moments Earlier (2011) Whats this? The President wondered, as he was hesitant to open the e-mail that had just arrived in his inbox through an unapproved network. He was more than annoyed for he had just finished a pickup game of basketball and was still in his Tshirt and shorts, wanting to relax, shower, and wanting to locate his fine wife and beautiful daughters for the purposes of promised quality time. Both of those comforting and uncomfortable lines of thought were interrupted when the Vice President walked in without knocking. You are going to want to open that sir, the V.P. said after looking at the Presidents computer screen. Trusting his advice thats what the President did.
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Shit, I mean The President rarely used profanity but this time he had good reason to. Are these the coordinates to Yes, sir, thats what it appears to be. Has it been verified? Were working on that now. We? Who else knows? Before the V.P. could answer there was a knock on the door and in walked Jimmica, alone.

The President watched as his beautiful wife exited the Oval Office via a private chamber before Jimmica had entered. That meant the President was in an excellent mood. Who wouldnt be with a wife that fine and intelligent, and who was down for her man and family? He had just apologized to her for being unable to get away from work and that she and he would have to reschedule their quest for quality family time together an hour or two later. But even her Queen Nzinga, Bathesheba, Cleopatra like beauty and leadership couldnt soften the blow of what the President had just heard. The news placed the terrorists play of Korea, Iraq and al-Qaida far down the national security priority scale. So when the President, who rarely cursed or used Ebonics, said, You gotta to be shittin me! The room became quiet and everyone looked at the President and then Hillary, who had just re-read the e-mails that were sent through as unapproved network and around the governments updated firewalls. It was the verifiable satellite coordinates for Biden Ladens hideout. That was the good news. The bad news was that he was hiding in Pakistan. The other bad news was that they were reading an e-mail that they should never have received in the first place. The bad news just kept piling up, for few things were worse than dealing with the intentional and international mumbling and fumbling of the murky I.S.I., Pakistans Inter-Services Intelligence. Ok, enough with all of the bad news good news drama that was rapidly developing, stepping back into the cool he was known for the President turned
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from his cabinet members and looked directly at Jimmica who was hesitantly standing outside of his inner circle. Jimmica Ive been advised that you have been pursuing a cyber-terrorist that has computer capabilities that are even greater than our own. Can you shed any light on the accuracy of this last communication, and

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CHAPTER ONE Somewhere Training

(Between 1980 & 1984)

The boot camp that Chance had completed in the Navy was a piece of cake and merely a warm-up compared to the boot camp he had to complete for his Unknown Recruiters. It lasted much longer too. In fact, it lasted for three and a half years before he was either allowed to pick or be assigned his first assignment. All of his current and potential assignments were on what was like a secured Wikipedia site. Assignments or Kill Targets was what he had been training so hard for. All of those three and a half years of training involved masked instructors, who were more observers than instructors because they never spoke and Chance had to read and memorize training manuals for instruction. And whatever mission oriented training task that wasnt in the manual had to be improvised and a strategy for that tasks success devised on the fly. His first year primarily consisted of survivalist training, small arms, weights, duathlon and triathlon type training. Actually the later was more like a Mud runner race meets the Ironman. Year two involved listening to a daily audio of the Art of War with the music of the Art of Noise Moments In Love re-looping in the background. Only now when he ran, biked, swam, or lifted weights he could be attacked but would not be able to hear his attackers coming. He had a wireless earplug device implanted inside the cochlea of his ear that could only be removed surgically and through which he could also receive wireless instructions. The implant had many other surveillance applications, as well. Even before that level of training, against the average fighter, Chance was sort of like the character Bone, from the movie Blood and Bone. But Chance was slim and muscular and instead of Bones signature Timberland boots, Chance mostly wore the old school Brogans with the steel toe. Chance had been a whiz with human anatomy since middle school he now knew for decades that approximately 25% of the total number of bones in the body was in the feet. There were 52 bones there and anyone of them when broken was painful. That was a particular part of the reason that when Chance aimed to break bones he broke bones that were below the waist. The fibula went unprotected by most even by those with martial arts training. The entire knee could be easily sent in the opposite direction in a street fight with just one time pressed kick, essentially making that fight over and done
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with. One quick side kick or an up and down stomp would accomplish breaking a bone 99% of the time. He grew up reading the Street Fighter graphic comics and novels. And he loved how the muscles popped out of those street fighting characters who sexily pushed their tank tops to the shape of their athletic physiques, sort of like how sprinters and other track stars do now. As a bonus, in the housing projects many girls and even older women told him he looked nice in his tank tops. But he wore them to show that he had enough muscles to break a bone or two in another. He was still looking nice in his tank tops during year two of terrorist training which also consisted of combat plane and helicopter training; rain, sleet, and snow night time shooting; hand to hand attacks and counter attacks; living off the land; adapting to inhospitable terrain; studying foreign languages and more. The more was often rock climbing, tight rope walking, creek crawls, cold and hot weather survival tactics, cyber security intelligence, typing in the dark and techniques on how to develop undercover identities. The third year was more of a faster paced and more condensed version of the first two years. And during the entire training time he had been without the pleasure of a woman or the comfort of alcohol. He was focused and all of his senses were mentally and physically heightened as an expected result from the denials of comfort. The three to three and half year training mark consisted of repeated real and simulated attacks and counter attacks. There was also a lot more training in cyber security and how to use careers, such as in Rap and industry, as an effective Counter Intelligence tool. As mentioned, upon graduation the secured Wikipedia like site permitted the option for freelance operations. So Chance made his first assignment a non-lethal one. He exposed police corruption in Flint and Detroit. In both cities there were crooked cops who were shaking down drugs dealers and implementing their own unlawful program of asset forfeiture. Chance supplied video and audio of their activities to known drug dealers who exacted their revenge through everything from extortion to making sure they were reassigned or were fired. Not long after that he accepted his first non-lethal interrogation assignment. That was the Pakistani nephew of the uncle who was a leader in al-Qaeda.

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Chance Chatting on the Phone with Taylor (Late Summer 2013) It had been nearly a month since his Colorado phones video thank you surprise from his daughters and almost twelve months since when he had first met Anthony. He had called both of his daughters earlier, but had to leave voice messages as neither had answered their phone. Finally Taylor called back and they had already been chit chatting for just a few minutes. Dad, who is that you got playing in the background? Taylor! For real? You dont know who that is? He didnt tell her that Anthony had introduced him to the Rap duo that she was hearing. Anthony, Chance learned, was an indie and EDM freak. And he could go on and on forever talking about superstars like DJ A-Traks, a French crew, new single Cest chic, and would do the same for Killer Mike and others. Chance had never heard of any of the music before now. But neither was Anthony familiar with the Doors, U2, or Sly and the Family Stone, so it was a fair exchange of intergenerational musical interests and just one more connection that would eventually link the two of them. Girl, thats, he said trying to sound cool, like he was up on the latest music but was in reality reading from the CD case Anthony had brought with him, Run the Jewels featuring Big Boi on Banana Clipper They are the indie Rap duo El-P and Killer Mike. Indie, what does he know about Indie? Taylor thought but said, Oh, I think I heard about them. Wait, who is that talking? My bad, I meant trying to sing? She got My bad from me, Chance thought. You sure are nosey. Oh, dad you hurt my feelings, she said while fake crying. She got that from Trudy. Aw, my big baby thats Anthony. Anthony liked to slip in and out of Spanish when he was singing and working and he seemed to always be working and singing. Whos Anthony? My new business partner and landscaper. Which one, you got a million businesses.
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Look whos talking, daughter of mine whos about to open a new recording studio in Germany. How did you know about that dad? Im not revealing my confidential sources. Anyway, Anthony is my Operations Manager for Re-Use-It. She was silent for more than a minute. Hey, are you still there. Dad, why didnt you tell me about this? This is cool. Does Trudy know or did you neglect her too? Taylor joked after pulling Re-Use-It up on her iPad. Neglect, who me? Not guilty. You know yawls input is unconditionally welcomed. He said, quickly thinking he probably shouldnt have used the word unconditionally though. Oh, dad when Trudy sees this we are going to be rich. Youre already rich. I mean, richer. He heard her shuffling papers and it sounded like she knocked something over or down as she said shoo t, or was that shit? Bye dad, love you. I love you Click. He already knew what her adolescent impatience was about; she was calling her sister to set an entrepreneurial scheme regarding Re-Use-It into motion.

Valdosta, GA (Late Summer 2013) One of the things Chance loved about Valdosta Georgia was that it was celebrityless. Rarely did anyone notice or overly care about who he was because in Valdosta he was just an ordinary citizen. It was an early Saturday night, and five hours since he had spoken with Taylor and which Trudy still hadnt returned his call. Chance parked in Hudson Docket and was walking up Fry street on the Southside that night heading to go and chill at Scott Park. While there he was likely to watch a nighttime game of hoops, people walking around the track,
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alongside children playing in and around the swings and monkey bars. He would also check to see if the big and heavy marble chess board was still on the ground. That last thought was interrupted as a guy riding a bike pulled up next to him from the rear and just started talking. In Flint or Detroit, day or night, Chance would have gone into an antirobbery mode. In Valdosta he never even flinched, never attempted to size up the guy and never sensed the vibes of urban sponsored danger. Some of the young people in Valdosta were working hard to change that perception of comfort but for the most part it was isolated nonsense and quite infrequent by comparison to other cities. Hey, let me ask you question. Chance smiled to himself because he knew the stranger wasnt about to wait for permission. Two guys, one White and one Black, both start a job at the same time and both miss the same number of days from work, two. A heard a key word, White, Chance said as he had never slowed his pace which to some was fast but which was normal since he was a runner and that the seemingly fast pace was actually slow. Nevertheless, the stranger had to paddle just a little harder to keep up. Now, I got to go to the front office and talk to the man Monday about by two absencesand oh, I was late a couple of times, too. But this dude bes late a whole lot more and nobody says a thing. Chance was thinking he probably called in and you didnt. Is that fair? he asked. It probably has nothing to do with fairness. Chance was also thinking that he had gone through college in three years, worked at the University of Michigan for seventeen years and a few other positions before that after he finished his operations training for the Unknown Committee and was not once ever late or missed a day. That was several different jobs and school with a perfect attendance. This guy obviously had just started his job and had no idea who he was talking to when it came to the work ethic which included a no excuse approach to attendance. For Chance early to work was on time and on time meant almost late. When Chance first moved down south from Michigan, his voice was strained from all the speaking he had to do to people that he passed by, especially
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in the daytime. There was definitely a greater sense of community as opposed to the undercurrent of disunity, suspicion and hate that rolls through Flint, Detroit, Saginaw and other places in the region. The people in Valdosta were generally nicer although the gangsta Rap craziness of talking rudely and stupidly about the importance of the non-important was more than just seeping in. It was cool to act mean, and it was all just an act to cover the obvious insecurities born from being personally unprepared and socially unsupported for a more productive life with multiple options. So you saying Im wrong then? Chance kept saying to himself, dont tell the truth, dont tell the truth. People tend to hate the truth and its messenger; unless, of course, the messenger could find a sneaky and non-offensive way to break it to them. It has nothing to do with right or wrong. Man this isnt right. Its hard to justify being late and you cant just use the White guy for your defense. Shoot, nuh uh, thats exactly what Im going to do. By this time Chance was well pass Hudson Dockett and was about to turn onto Old Statenville Road, which lead to the park and Scott Elementary both of which were now just a few blocks away. The stranger meanwhile saw someone he knew on a bike heading to the party store which was on the other side of the corner and hollered at him to get his attention. Chance was undercover ghetto so this was all natural and cool with him. The stranger was making his way toward the party store now. Chance had been in Valdosta for six years and it wasnt until the fifth year that he actually had to set someone straight. In Flint he couldnt go six weeks without having to threaten to or actually kick someones arse because of their outright attempt to verbally or physical abuse him or someone he cared about or some stranger he just saw being hatefully wronged. Its going to be tough, Chance had to yell a little and plus he didnt want to seem like he didnt care when he really didnt care all that much. The stranger was almost to the party store. He was there to probably find something strong enough to ease the pain he was going to feel once his girlfriend, who probably
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didnt know at the time that come Monday hed be fired, which was almost certain to happen. I know, the stranger yelled back. You are going to have to pray real hard on that one. Yeah, you right, he hollered and almost as an afterthought. Im going to church in the morning to ask God to help keep my job. And just a few days ago Chance was cautioning and monitoring his on going to God when he needed something instead of just going to him because He is God. Good luck, Chance hollered. Thanks, the stranger hollered back. And with that Chance went on to the park to chill. He didnt even have a pen, paper or phone with him. He would also do his best not to think but just sit and enjoy another one of the many beautiful and warm Georgia nights. BET Rap Awards Show: Soul, Hip Hop, Rap, and Gospel Savior Speech by Insubordinate (Fall 2001) Driving away fears, thats mostly what Soul, Hip Hop, Rap and Gospel does. Driving away the fear of being invisible, the fear of being counted as nothing and the feelings of worthlessness that comes from such fear. We toss aside with attitude the collective humiliation, ghettoized vulnerabilities; media hyped slights, political grievances, social sensitivities, and the real and imagined insults against our personhood. The millennial generation of Hip Hop and Rap has emerged into a nonpermission asking entrepreneurism of cultural branding and market capitalism. Along with a respect for somewhat antiquated methods of fight or flight, this generation has succeeded by building multiple pockets of mini empires that are poised to explode just like early Rap did when it was popularly counted out as a short-lived and unwelcome fad. They, media pundits, Civil Rights and Church leaders, tried to give Rap a 10-count but when the count got to nine, Rap got up off the canvas and knocked out virtually all of the criticism that had knocked it down. Still its critics continue to try to shove that Millennial progress back into the waiting rooms of the Western and global world.
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That attempted knockout after the knock down caused a prison mental break out for Soul, Hip Hop and Gospel. Imaginatively freer, the mental prisoners were indeed freed and the chains on the brains removed. Its now a new social consciousness that is the New Hood and trailer-Hood Order. Lets keep that order going. And let me wax ghetto for a minute. They didnt give us what we got and they aint going to give us what we get. End ghetto. You better cloth yourself in a Soul and Hip Hop new Tuskegee Air people approach and take flight regardless of what forces come to try and ground you. Do it starting right now and preferably today. Thank you. The BET award show crowd went mad crazy. The speech almost instantly went virally viral. That meant that the speech was responded to by the pundits on all of the most watched networks, and was the featured story of the main and secondary content managers of the Internet. Too young to be at that awards show and one of Chances daughters wasnt born yet, but if they were that show they would have been doubly proud and gained even more of a boost to their own versions of popular popularity. As a matter of fact, he doubted that they had even seen the clips from that speech. Shoot Windows 95 hadn't even arrived yet, and it was hot once it arrived. But some years later, late fall 2013 it resurfaced on YouTube and just went viral. And combined with the messages from Insubordinate's latest music the press had a field day for twisting and contorting meaning. Those made his daughters have to look up that old speech. As a result of that speech people (especially media) approached them later to get an interview with Insubordinate, their dad. Taylor was pretty much protected by the geography of Sweden. Although it would be years later, the questions came like an avalanche. Is Insubordinate saying that the Millennial generation and specifically Hip Hop and Rap are going to lead the Black race? Is your father anti the Civil Rights Movement? Is there a plan being hatched? Why does your father continually criticize the Black church and its political leaders? Be truthful, isnt Insubordinate really trying to incite another culture war?

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Those were just some of the questions Trudy, in particular, had to field or evade. She was rather safe while on her college campus because the University of Michigans campus police didnt toy with the paparazzi. But if she were found out and about in her favorite hang outs in Detroit or Flint, Trudy would sometimes have to duck and dodge and she loved it. Make the media players want more by giving them less. That was her way of playing the players. Her dad was playing also. To just about all of the above questions Chances persona Insubordinate would have answered with a conditional yes, yes and yes. And if he ever answered those questions it would likely be first on Totally Biased (before the show was canceled) with W. Kamau Bell, Al Sharptons Politics Nation or Bill Mahers Real Time cable news shows. But that really was just old stuff stirred up by the media in order to try and make Insubordinate come out to defend his positions so that could sneak attack him regarding some of the things they really wanted to attack him on. Stuff like corrupting the youth, being unpatriotic, sound bites attacking conservatives, or some other divisive nonsense that private feelings stir in a public microphone. Corrupting the youth? Now that was a bogus charge and was akin to treating him like he was a modern Socrates.

Insubordinates Planned Washington Concert (Summer 2013) When Insubordinate learned that Katharine Grahams mansion in D.C. was usually uninhabited, he e-mailed his daughters and asked them to go to work on her estates representatives for a celebrity charity concert to be hosted there in 2014. He would have shot for the summer of 2013 but he was placed on vocal rest and had to cancel his concert tours mid-way through the season. Nevertheless, his daughters needed to hurry because an investor was rumored to be about to purchase the mansion. But that purchase could take a year or two. What was in it for them? They could decide on the theme and book any guess to their liking but with all of the proceeds going to Ice Cubes foundation and the Red Cross. Insubordinate had planned all along to pay it forward with Ice Cube for putting Insubordinate in his movie and for personally inviting Insubordinate to his charity event in Colorado several weeks ago. He planned to do a multiple fund raiser and split the proceeds between Cubes foundation and the Red Cross. And he would do it without asking either one of them for permission to do it.
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Just as importantly, there was an al-Qaida operative nearby in D.C. that he needed to pay a visit to. Everything was nearby too Insubordinate as Chance if it was in the United States. That visit would be tricky as the Rug Dealer was hiding in the Royal Embassy of Saudi Arabia and literally hundreds of government eyes were on the Saudis. The Saudis OPEC oil empire days were numbered and in rapid decline. As businessmen they would have to branch out as they had already failed to diversify. Now they would have to capitalize on emerging markets, such as weapons. And who needed or wanted weapons more than terrorists? And who was more willing to deal the weapons to them than the Rug Dealer, who was also diversifying?

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CHAPTER TWO RE-USE-IT (Valdosta, GA 2011) Chance was working on his 2016 exit plan from being a terrorist assassin and on downsizing from being the Worlds Oldest Active Rapper. Actually, it was a semi retirement plan. One he had still to identify and train his replacement assassin. Two he had planned to still work with developing artists or expanding the range of established artists. And three, his latest business enterprise, Re-Use-It was still in the Proof-of-Concept phase for building franchisee textile factory stores that made fashionable clothes primarily from recycle materials. He didnt know it yet, but later he would meet Anthony and Anthonys work ethic would be all the proof he needed. Then later add Trudys and Taylors excitement to the equation, and Chances flexible five year plan would then be cut by two thirds. Like Oprah he didnt really believe in five year plans. He believed instead in doing while planning.

Re-Use-It was a textile factory concept based on the Prison Industrial Complex Model. Bob Barker, the former Price Is Right host, made millions off of the $0.25 per hour labor of backward pants wearing anti-revolution revolutionists. It was one of the Federal Governments and Private Industrys in-your-face best kept secrets. Only once in a while would a shake-down through an unfair competition complaint emerge from a legitimate company such as Rayovac, Duracell, or some other Texas or Arizona company to stir things up. But those companies didnt really want to rock the boat of the Industrial Prison Complex. They just wanted a bigger slice of that corrupt, mess up the ghetto and trailer parks in order to reduce and redirect the bling pie. Corrupt? Yes, slave wages were still illegal in the United States. In Chances opinion, the unqualified ex-cons on the city streets were actually overqualified in prison. Many of them once worked in the prisons finance office. They also worked as welders, mechanics, machinists, carpenters, brick layers, shoe makers, upholstery journeymen, farmers who used high tech state of the art farming equipment, and the occupational list went on to encompass just about every comparable civilian occupation to include stock broker and even international exporters. All of that was done while behind bars and all while they were being publicly labeled as unemployable once released.
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Chance had also argued that low to moderate income housing complexes, run by the Department of Housing and Urban Development, were full of people with undocumented skills along with other decent people who were fast learners even when they werent properly incentivized. He planned to form a monopoly around that widely admitted but politically quieted fact. To Chance, the overreaching drama of squeezing oneself into the right-fit or procedural processes of most public and private industries was a fools game. It was a lottery system at best, where a few winners take all and a lot of losers get nothing but the aggravation of another dream deferred and the nightmare of debt; because chasing an actual dream or a deferred dream costs money. The processes for access to most prison jobs on the outside were publicly leveraged to keep more honest poor people out. The amount of hard working poor people that those processes gave jobs to or real access to getting in was a short list by comparison. Chances plan was to use Re-Use-It and other ventures to turn the trashed people of those processes into treasured people. He intended to do that with a parallel process of real access to many of the jobs that were unfairly denied in the past, also jobs that were currently denied and were likely to be denied in the future under the present systems for the fair markets of unfairness. But Chance hadnt placed all the blame on the market processes; he also blamed himself and other social critics for failing to govern the market for a greater good. Anonymous Foreign Translation Software (1980 to Present) During the early 1980s Chance had anonymously developed a software program that allowed any street-technologically-wise-thug to translate over 1000 foreign languages into English. And that was small potatoes since there were well over 6,500 foreign languages globally. Although not enough people had personal computers back then, plenty of schools and workplaces had computers then and now. Chance broadcasted the software nationwide through the black market as a ghost programmer. The software, called Exposed, allowed anyone to record a foreign shop owners language and then run it through a series of hacked databases which would both identify and translate the language on the spot. Really all the user needed to do was place their audio file into the software. Then a special dialog box would appear and the software would do the rest. This software was better than what the F.B.I. and C.I.A. had at the time, for they depended largely on humans for foreign translations, and in many
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departments they still do. Even to this day, versions of Expose software were being updated as the code was freely shared. Just about any digital or analog recording device would do. A Walkman, a cassette recorder or just about any electronic recording device would be enough for the hacker translation software to work. Hacker? Yep, for once the persons language was identified another series of unauthorized databases were used to also identify the speaker or speakers, corporation or corporations. Terrorists and even legitimate governments didnt have this technology which severely disrupted foreign prejudice. Background noises, software incompatibility, sun fades, you name it there was a host of things that could disrupt or destroy a terrorist and legitimate government satellite based technologies, even at the highest levels. None of that affected this softwares capabilities though. Thats part of the reason why governments recruit hackers, for free thinkers usually outperform centralized thinkers who play it safe just to keep their job. Because how can you think outside of the box when youre trapped in a box? Turn the box into a rubrics cube was Chances answer in the form of Expose software. Back then terrorist nations didnt even know about such adaptable technology; especially Iran, Pakistan and North Korea. Today only their best intelligence operations were aware of it but didnt consider that particular counter to counterintelligence a credible threat. But Chance believed in countering counter-intelligence. Chance, not the Seal Team, produced the Intelligence that lead to the death of Osama Bin Laden and other Pakistani and Iranian shell operatives. They were all no match to the Intelligence Network formed by the Unknown Committee that Chance was anonymously recruited too. Was Chance a puppet on a string? Yeah, but as a puppet he was at the highest level of altruism on that string. Like in the movie Takers, thugs were a combination of Gil Scott Heron, KRS1, NWA, Common, Mos Def, Tupac and Kendrick Lamar who were all individually wrapped in a contained shell of Black Pantherism. They were a volatile group like nitro glycerin, which was highly effective when managed effectively.
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But theirs was a sort of Pantherism and Civil Righting with a different strategy. The strategy was economic aims for sustained political and social gain. Who was elected or not elected had to matter a whole lot less in order to be a part of any long lasting influence. Thats another reason why they were a volatile group. Of course a volatile group sounded a lot like something that most Black and White conservatives would say. You know the nice guys, the family value people who once loved lynching other peoples families; literally or economically. You know the ones who said nice things publicly while planning or allowing bad things to happen privately. Those creeps were also called honest citizens with deep roots in the community because they were honestly dishonest in their messing over of other people. As other people were definitely lesser people to those people who called and treated others like some other. Unfortunately some people tend to forget that creepism, and just about all of the -isms have multicultural and gender support. Blame the White man, Chance would say I think not. Yep, technology was a game changer when in the hands of thugs. And whatever technology served to upset the normal relations that were promoted by Liberals, Conservatives and prejudiced foreign owners was probably in a thugs best interest. RE-USE-IT (Valdosta, GA 2011) The Re-Use-It as a business was rather simple. Chance was literally bringing the prisons textile industry to the streets or to the lives of those who were once locked out by our political and economic systems. The equipment he bought for his vision of a textile industry was cheap. A lot of the equipment was literally given to him. Americas overall textile industry losses were a boom to his growth, and would be even more so later in ways that even Chance hadnt foreseen. To get most of that done, he first cut a deal with the City of Valdosta back in 2006. He was able to purchase several parcels of neglected properties for $1. With that $1 purchase he agreed to a specified time-table for generating a certain amount of tax revenue within a set number of months, and then years. As a second move he cut a deal with the Georgia Power Company, where which Re-Use-It would pay no utility bills for the 1st year. At the 6-month period of that 1st year, half of the utility bill money would be placed into an interest bearing escrow account as a matter of good faith. His third
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move involved paying the regular utility bill rates plus a zero interest percentage for repayment of the 1st years balance that was spread out over an 18-month period. After that utility fees would then be charged as normal. Actually, the above was part of a strategic first move. His second move was to open a Sew & Sew training school in 2007. Pay began at $8s per hour for the first 90-days and $10 to $15s or more afterwards. He also started a private security and sales force. And all of that pretty much underlined the foundation of his urban factory vision which was supported and supplemented by a series of applied and evidence based research intervention theories. As part of his intervention program, Chance built up a series of inside store display teams. The teams wore the in-house designed Re-Use-It uniformed which came in several styles, from dress to casual. The display teams job was to setup or breakdown store front displays, store planograms, perform ground keeping duties and conduct periodic audits. The leaders, as usual, rose quickly through the ranks. The base pay was $12s per hour, which was more than competitive and incentive enough for most not to want to lose the opportunity as whistleblowing (snitching) on unwelcomed behaviors were openly encouraged and richly rewarded. But on a better note and as Chance would later explain, anyone from any department could cross train or move laterally within the company to any other area of work. That was after they convinced a revolving selection committee that was chosen anonymously in a jury selection like process to approve such as move. So far, 159 people were employed at Re-Use-It by the start of 2008. That number would grow to over 1,500 by 2013 and much of that growth would not be because of anything Chance had done directly.

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CHAPTER THREE Re-Use-It (Valdosta, GA Spring 2012) The Re-Use-It or RUI factories and recycling centers of the present and future, when possible, were always near or on the same property as its main outlet stores. So far there were five such outlet stores in or around Valdosta. Old sheets, blankets, shirts, curtains, slacks and other sources of textile material were all brought to the recycling center where $5s per every 15-lbs was paid out daily in cash. Street hustlers loved the deal. Once the materials were gathered an assembly line of material strippers would sort and then remove buttons, collars, sleeves, stitching and zippers until all the various fabrics were reduced to pattern readiness. After that the materials were washed or dry cleaned twice and then air dried. That was all part of phase one. Phase two consisted of seamsters selecting any combination of materials to their liking and refashioning them into short sets, ties, socks, lingerie and whatever else they could reimagine or duplicate from out in the consumer market. Next an estimated labor sheet with a price list of recommended estimates for the completed product would be passed onto the sales team or sales. Following all of that an individual sales member and the individual seamster came to an agreed percentage of profit sharing. Afterwards, whatever prices the sales person could sell the products at over the negotiated settlement between them and seamster was an additional part of the sellers weekly income. As sales people customarily do the sales force developed additional streams of revenue. The sales force had quickly negotiated a deal with Proctor & Gamble and Whirlpool so that RUIs detergent, washers and industrial press irons were all purchased at a substantial savings. The sales force also negotiated ad revenue for store displays for Proctors and Whirlpools targeted ad campaigns and for other exclusive advertising streams on Re-Use-Its web site. Social networking sites were also softly targeted. One result was that half of the product savings and 40% of advertising sales plus residuals were what the sales force earned. That allowed them to split a $275,000 revenue pie in 7 ways last year. And they splurged afterwards on company luncheons, tricked out automobiles and many of them wore new clothes with matching bling as accessories.
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At first everyone was pushing to be a seller because by the fall of 2012 many of the sellers were generating $3,500 to $5,500 average weekly checks, and worked very flexible hours. And that was before they cut their outside corporate deals. That was until the seamsters and factory line workers learned about the Roberta Sisters and the Jamieson cousins. The Roberta Sisters and Jamieson cousins worked as consignment and commission only separate seamster teams. Their commissions were based on a 40% minimum up to 70% with a 5% bonus for any generated revenues over $40,000 in any given month. Both teams were on pace to make over $1,000,000 and it was then only early March of 2012. It seemed like nothing sells like accessible success.

The corporate hierarchy at RUI was unorthodox with only the traditional elements of Anthony becoming the Chief Operating Officer, later in 2013, and being paid a salary of $75K plus commissions on any deals he could generate for himself and others. Chances salary of $500K was re-invested into the company with 20% going to local charities, especially Turners Center for the Arts summer programs and the Mildred Hunter Community Center. Anthony loved charities, too, and enjoyed working fast and effectively to grow Re-Use-It so that they could help more charities. Chance had projected that their plans to franchise their Valdosta operation into Detroit, Flint, and Buena Vista in Michigan; along with Jacksonville, Madison and Orlando, FL; Savannah, and Brunswick, GA was actually set to place well before the 2016 deadline Chance had projected back in 2011. Anthony had officially come on board in 2012, but had been working as early as 2011, and had set his sights on the fall of 2013 for expanding Re-Use-It through franchises. He had the letters of commitment and other tax guarantees from every one of the selected cities to back it up. Anthony made good use of the sales force to accomplish that and was learning that aspect of the job quickly by just doing it. Re-Use-It was about to explode with incredible growth and the magazine Entrepreneur had already expressed interest in doing a feature article about the company and its expansion ventures. About the article, though, Chance couldnt help but wonder if it was solely a merit article or an article set into motion by his daughters. He wouldnt ask and was sure they wouldnt volunteer to tell.

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Getting Back to India (2011) Canadas Special Operations Regiment was like a mythical Paul Bunyan. They were just big rugged lumber jack looking guys who could move much faster than lumber jacks and who were much more limber and flexible than they looked. They were used to carrying big guns over tall and rugged mountains for weeks through what most enemies would consider impassable terrain. While in Pakistan and after torturing and inflicting the irreparable damage to the young terrorist in training with the flesh eating bacteria, Chance now had to get back to India. If he didnt his own flesh would be eaten by worms and that was after the ravens, vultures, wild dogs and other desert wild life got their cut of flesh or bone. The way Chance had chosen to head back to India would also likely be thought to be impossible but it was the safest and surest way out of Syria. And just as luck would have it, his escape plan included Jordan from where hed hitch a ride to the Indian border. And he had to do all of that in 48-hours or less or the entire plan just might come unglued. To remain light all he had were five black market purchased 9-millimeter Glock pistols stuffed in his pockets. He was a top pistol shooter. That mattered little now because he saw a Little Bird attack helicopter flying near sentry towers and razor wire from which shone several spot lights. It had to be a training exercise because Chance saw Chinese military not far from French Foreign Legion. And the Americans were either Deltas, Army Rangers, SEALs, or Special Forces with their rock repellant knee pads, which operatives they were exactly was hard to tell since they showed no telling insignias. He was certain, though, that SWAT and ex-Secret Service was amongst them as two anti-terrorism snipers were cleaning their weapons to clear them of sand. Shoot, it was safer in the Hood on a warm night than it was there on the Jordan and Syrian border. As for the Americans, their capture or kill missions usually resulted in kill. But their official missions rarely took place in Jordan thats why h e guessed correctly that it was a training exercise. In secular Jordan, Syria was to the north, Saudi Arabia to the south, Iraq to the east, and Israel to the west. Now Chance considered Israel as friendly but its
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security forces were likely to shoot one who was coming from an area of combatants before one could ever get a chance to explain that they werent a suicide bomber. The exercise was in full swing and aside for suicide bombers the other real worldly targets were plenty: I.E.D. experts, money men and bomb makers. And the Global police training units were armed well enough to go get the bad guys in real life. Some carried the SIG 716 rifle, the AA-12 which was a 12-gauge shotgun that was fully automatic and fired around 300 shells a minute. That was clearly a weapon that a Rapper the size of Lil Wayne could not shoot comfortably. Some Americans carried M4s. The M16 was for regular military but was not a weapon for elite units. Then there were the ghosts the invisible men who signed on as a result of 9/11 to get it on man, or was that dude? They trained hard and from day one were in the military to kill the enemy. They were usually around 59, unshaved, unassuming, friendly looking and could with one blow break a bone or kill a man. They could also shoot a target under almost impossible conditions. All of that in a nutshell was what Chance had to get around, unnoticed or else their live training fire would be turned on him in real life. It was going to be a long night but he had to get to the border and to the plane bound for India. It was a plane that would not wait for the tardy before taking flight either. Meeting MYA (Spring 2012) Although almost stoic in appearance, Mya was a woman who rarely smiled softly. To go with her almost stoic disposition and appearance, Mya had the stereotypical hard lines and creases at the corner of the evilly raised eyes and mouth of a BBW, a Bitter Black Woman. The stereotypical BBW had actually once seeped out of Michelle Obama, famously. But like Michelle, Mya was actually kind and helpful. BBW or not Mya was bad as in good, especially with the help of her Angelina Jolie lips and her Jill Scott cuteness and body. The way she walked was soft. But the way she spoke was sometimes stern and hard, like a softening female gangsta. But really all she was set to do was demand love in the form of respect. And she needed that respect because Mya was growing weary of trying to earn love by way of romance which was just as fleeting as it was rare. Mya and Chance met last winter by chance. He often saw her at the public library and while running into her at the local Walmart, where she was fending off some rude guys who were trying to hit or her, Chance intervened by pretending to be her uncle. She went along with the rescue for she had almost immediately
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remembered seeing Chance, the older guy who rarely looked up and was always busy reading newspapers, books or typing on his lap top at the public library. She had a boyfriend, of sorts, who lived in Atlanta. And as soon as Chance was ready to distance himself from her out of respect, Mya explained that her boyfriend was a moving truck driver that she met as he was moving in her neighbor across the street. They had only chatted online and never even kissed, as she hadnt seen him in the past 90 days since meeting him. Chance immediately considered her nave but also sweet. She obviously hadnt been heartbroken enough times to become suspicious first , or at least cautious, and trusting second. The relationship that wasnt a relationship led to an exchange of e-mails, which lead to a few picnics, which lead to Mya later explaining that she broke up with Mr. Atlanta as he had accidentally texted her a message meant for another woman. She loved the picnics and the fact that Chance didnt press her for sex. He liked a woman in dress; she wore them for him at their picnics and had the most beautiful brown legs. He felt fortunate. Still Chance was hesitant because she was so much younger than he but Mya was nothing like Dr. Doll. Mya was 26 and an Associate Professor. Shed only had three boyfriends, one in high school and another in college, along with Mr. Atlanta. Her smile and constant comments about Chances brown eyes and his about here pretty smile naturally lead to a kiss. The kiss was good and produced more than either of them expected. They dated for a month or more after that, and once they had sex Mya began to spend weekends with him when he was home. Unlike her previous boyfriend when Chance was out of town, planning for a 2014 concert or otherwise, he always answered his phone and returned her e-mails in a timely fashion, day or night. Plus he was horny as heck when he did get a Chance to see Mya. And she still found it hard to believe that he was a Rapper since he was so laid back and old school. But Mya believed it after she saw a few of his videos on YouTube. He was pretty good and she liked that his lyrics werent about bling, or sex, or money, or any of the other empty stuff that Rappers tended to rap about over and over again. The music was quite different too and good. Mya was pleasantly surprised but so was Chance.

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CHAPTER FOUR The Bullied: The Earlier Years (The Late 1960s) If bullying people were birds then housing projects would be the nest where most of those bullies laid their eggs. Those eggs later would hatch into Im going to fuck with or fuck over whoever actually was or whoever seemed vulnerable. Chance was vulnerable as an adolescent in that he was new to the housing projects and had a middle brother, Jethro Bodean Jones, who was as strong as an ox but as cowardly as a mouse and as smart as a road lizard. The latter was the worse because a road lizard would look at all of his siblings and neighbors who were squashed up and down the highway by traveling families, commuters and 18wheelers. After seeing all of the crushed bodies, the road lizard would then decide that those crushed bodies were a sign that it was indeed safe to cross the busy highway. Chance didnt act vulnerable, though. During his first week in the projects called River Park, he actively sought out the toughest of the neighborhood bullies. Someone pointed him out to Chance. The bully was on top of the hill across from the bus stop. It was the same spot where Chance would years later encounter his Unknown Recruiters. Both the bully and the bus stop were near the multipurposed rental office and community center. Believing in the delusion of family against the rest of the world, Chance had his middle brother to come with him. To his middle brothers surprise, Chance ran a long way to get to the top of the hill and immediately challenged the bully. There had to be something crazy in Chances genes, there had to be some type of an unexplained mutation that mixed up his flight or fight signals. He was like no one else in his large clan called family. He just couldnt stop himself from confronting those who tried to tell others where they could or could not go, or anyone who bullied to extract from another anything that they werent fairly owed. He hated that then and would hate bullying even more so later when he came to better understand it. Chance would later come to understand bullying as something that was physical and political, economic and social, and would come to learn that it had to be fought against both individually and collectively. The collective part was where his entire family: siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles would come up entirely short.

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They were nothing like Chance and his grandmother. Maybe it was because she was half Apache but looked one hundred percent African. But even that comparison was odd because he didnt really consider himself to be either. The Underwear Bomber (End of Summer 2013) Chance had to contain himself. He really wanted to target the Saudi born Ibrahim Al-Asiri. He was the infamous underwear bomber who was rumored to be in radio silence and hiding in the terrorist sponsoring country of Yemen. But the C.I.A. was hot on his trail and their drones were taking out plenty of Al-Asiris dangerous comrades. How did Chance know? The Department of Justice secretly obtained call records made by the Associated Press to find the source who leaked the details about Al-Asiris bombing plot on U.S. soil. The government was pressing the press but it was Chance who had leaked the details. Jimmica suspected that but she hadnt even bothered trying to explain it to the heads of the Justice Department. She just sent an evasive memo about that possibility just to cover her own arse. How did Chance know? Well there was an Aspen Security Forum in Colorado in mid-September that was underwritten by the Transportation Security Administration. That was another reason why Chance was glad that Ice Cube was having a charity in Colorado. The event was a perfect cover since it wasnt planned by Chance. Chance targeted the buildings alarm companys audio recording software remotely. A lot of people didnt know that certain subsidiaries of ADT had that audio capability. It was as if Chance was in the room. And by the time the alarm company found out that he was there, though the dispatcher on duty at the time probably hadnt even noticed that the recording device was on for that particular site, Chance would be elsewhere. Plus the alarm company wouldnt have been able to monitor him anyway, even if they knew theyd been compromised in real time. The Security Forum presenter introduced himself as a corporate Intelligence owner and security consultant for the C.I.A. His name was Tom Sword and he explained that the Sword meant that he was in the business of cutting the heads off of cyber terrorists. That was his icebreaker and it always drew more than a chuckle.
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Tom also explained that often normally harmless leaning biographic information provided no revelations about terrorism related intelligence. That was true no longer. Middle and upper class youthful rebellion was no longer considered a passive-aggressive, boys will be boys, growing phase. Oh no, religious rebellion, in particular, fused into terrorism. Those who attended radical Islamist preaching camps or who were university drop outs from middle and upper class families deserved special attention, especially if they were once on your payroll or had a family member who still was. It was not racial profiling because decisions were randomly made about who to suspect. There were metrics to be followed, analytics to be sorted through and evidence to be gathered. Let the chips fall where they may, and if the roulette wheel kept coming up Arabic with extreme Islamist leanings and connections, then a company would be foolish not to report that evidence based suspicion to the proper authorities and dispatch their IT department to heighten its cyber security vigilance. That was also part of the reason why Al-Asiri and others in his league were being investigated and Insubordination was not. Chance wasnt a university drop out, but even if he were he was also Rapper. Rappers dropped out of a college just to build street credibility. So that was not a security red flag. But his college based travels might have been, if those travels were ever scrutinized for cyber security purposes. Such an investigation would not be anywhere near complete if it was not also known that Chance was overly fluent in Arabic. There was a red flag however. What was Tom Sword doing at the charity event in Colorado? Was he just relaxing before the security conference that he was the keynote at and which took place in a few days after the event? Was he there as an operative or security consultant? Chance might never uncover answers to those questions but still he couldnt help but wonder why Tom Sword had been so friendly with him. Shakeel Afridi (2011) Shakeel Afridi was the Pakistani doctor who was sentenced to 33-years in prison for helping the C.I.A. to locate Bin Ladin in May 2011. Well Chance had told them in January 2011 where he was at so he guessed that they had sacrificed the good Dr. as a source for confirmation. Now that sounded like the C.I.A.: doubt, doubt, believe.

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The bad guy Bin Laden was in Abbottobad just as Chance had informed them, or rather had informed Jimmica. The Rap network and Blackmarket in Pakistan was based after and modeled on Americas Rap culture. And since Chance was considered a Rapper and a non-threat to terrorist, the Blackmarket didnt suspect him as an enemy either. The Pakistani Rappers were also on-line a lot and spoke in volumes through their songs about the famous Bin Laden being in their country. Putting the pieces together was pretty easy after that, except for the C.I.A. and F.B.I. who randomly and ineffectively monitored Rappers. The agents who were assigned to such low stakes monitoring were either being punished, demoted or were being nudged to quit. Regardless of their status or motives the agents never connected the dots that were available through the extensive Rap channels. Just the mere promise of a few bars on Chances next release had Pakistani want to be Rappers lined-up to reveal what everyone else in the underground already knew about the tall terrorist. Their ulterior motive was to shake loose a big chunk of Big Bins harem called wives. Just think of the information Chance could have gotten if he were Jay-Z or P-Diddy. But since it was underground and getting to Osamas wives required a lot of gold, Bin Ladens whereabouts never made it to the aboveground chat circles of Police Intelligence. The entire scene reminded Chance of Americas Illuminati. The Illuminati was just the devil operating as a series of secret societies with deep roots and staggered moneyed interests. And like the devil it all existed but was denied as existing. Eyes Wide Shut was a great movie and a telling story of non-fiction that was acted on and reported to be fiction. People tended to believe more in Casper the Friendly Ghost than in the devil and the unfriendliness of deep rooted moneyed interests. The Police Intelligences network lack of interest in Chance was lessening though. It was good that the good Doctor had endured a trial. That was a position Chance would never be in as he would rather go out in a blaze of glory before even considering the tipsy scales of justice. Plus the C.I.A. knew the truth and now a few of them knew more about Chances capabilities and unprecedented threat level.

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The flood threats and the inside scoop on manufacturings threats to the United States and the rest of the Worlds overall infrastructure went well beyond even exceptional journalism standards. Edward Snowden and the infamous Julian Assange of Wikileaks didnt possess such data so how did this rising threat have it and more importantly without the counter terrorism agencies even knowing he had it until after he or they had revealed it? Chance didnt care who got the credit or who knew what or how and when. The creep was dead and gone. That was credit enough. Muslim Rug Dealer (Summer 2013) He was pretending to be an Armenian Rug Dealer operating out of Washington, D.C. when he was really an Arab Saudi or Afghanistan drug dealer. No one knew his real ethnicity. He was also a dealer of women and abuse who eagerly chased Mediterranean beauties. The Rug Dealer chased the kind of beauties who used to lure conquering explorers to their doom. Only he was doom and hated beauty because he could never really possess or enjoy the intensity of anything beautiful. The lack of possession was likely due to his funk based body odor, garlicky bad breath, the break-out sweats from fat induced hormonal imbalances, being an overly greasy and sugary food eater, a daily drinker of American whiskey and a chain smoker of the non-filtered Camel brand of cigarettes. He smoked them when he wasnt treating himself to a cigar that he only smoked at his office, a busy caf in the Georgetown district. Despite being grossly chunky and funky with bad breath and all, the Rug Dealer had plenty of reasons to live each day like it would be his last. The Taliban was his boss and everyone knew how those Muslim drug dealers rolled. But none of the nastiness above was the reason that Chance wanted to kill him, although the already described nastiness would do. The Rug Dealer was behind the 16-year girl who had been shot in the head by the cowardly Taliban and lived. Like the Taliban he was against women being educated because an educated woman would most likely speak out loudly against unfair use and abuse. She would speak out not only for herself but for others also. Now that sort of free thinking was bad for the Rug Dealers business and he was bad for Chances. Plus Chance loved beauty and killing beautys killers he didnt hate.

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Still not even any of that was why Chance wanted to kill him, although just about any of it was reason enough. Remember the underwear bomber who tried to blow a plane up over Detroit for Christmas? The fake Rug Dealer was the cousin of the Saudi mastermind behind that plot, Al-Asiri. To the Taliban Saudis were soft and two faced, so a Saudi had to be a whole lot more brutal and daring to convince the Taliban of their loyalty. Sort of like how hardcore Rappers from the suburbs had to prove themselves to the hardcore Rappers who were actually from the shadows of the real mean urban streets. But the underwear bomber, Al-Asiri, was undoubtedly the Bin Laden of 2013 as far as hiding went. So Chance wanted a chance to make him piss in his own drawers by placing a bomb in Al-Asiris drawers. Why United States, British and French Police Intelligence didnt know or care about the fake Rug Dealer didnt matter much at that moment. It hadnt mattered because Chance was at a fund raiser in Colorado and wouldnt be able to carry out any plots until he was on a plane going anywhere but to Washington, D.C., even if that was his intended destination.

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CHAPTER FIVE The Bullied: The Early Years (The Late 1960s) Once Chance had reached the top of the hill it became readily clear that he was there with bad intentions, so he was knocked down with one punch. Chance didnt really know how to fight. He only knew that fight was in him and he knew how not to stay down. His adolescent and poor study of the art of pugilism led to a busted, bloodied and swollen lip. Chance already had thick lips and for a real long time (about six months) he would be teased as having labber lips. Judging by the menacing tone of the teasers and taunters, he supposed that labber lips were worse than just regular big African lips that Whites once hated but now embraced. The busted lip was also where the road lizard part came into play. Chances middle brother Jethro Bo-dean Jones watched and waited as Chance was beat into submission. After Chance was quickly and efficiently defeated, the bully beat up Jethro just for being their uninvited. They both learned later that bullys name was Carlos Wilson.

Carlos had five friends who were also bullies. Actually they were sport jocks and playing sports was what had brought them together. Chance played sports as well as he fought, which was awfully poor. So not being able to compete athletically or physically, the six bullies either took turns beating up Chance or surrounded him as a group and attacked his blind sides just for some sort of sadistic amusement. It also pissed them off that Chance would not stay down. The rest of the kids in the projects loved it too because with the focus squarely on Chance they were spared some of the taunting and physicality of those six bullies who were often bored when not playing sports. Or they were just overly hyped and ready to fight because of a heightened feeling of invincibility after practicing a sport. As was mentioned earlier his flight or fight genes often misfired to signal a response opposite from what common sense would have dictated as an expectation. So Chance had taken the same route home each day after school. That was unlike Jethro . Jethro was physically strong but he also equated scariness with smartness. Jethro effectively avoided or ran away from those particular bullies to their delight.
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Chance instead would go out of his way to walk right up to them virtually every day or after his wounds had healed and would talk smack to them. That repeated move made them not only call him labber lips but also the crazy boy. One day just for fun, they had Chance surrounded right in his own backyard. His backyard was rather isolated and was bordered by an open field on its south side and an apple orchard on its east. The bullying and taunts started at the school and had worked its way to his back yard. Oh, about three quarters of a mile of ridicule had to be covered before they even got to his backyard. When standing in his backyard there were miles of woods beyond the half a mile of open field to the south and after going beyond the many apartment units, there were also miles of woods to the north of Chances backyard. The apple orchard that would stand until the late 1970s was dormant; being that it was almost winter although not much snow was on the ground yet. These were the early years, the late 1960s. Chance was surrounded but he had a stick that he swung wildly to keep the six bullies at bay. That had to go on for what seemed like 30-minutes or more. Like hyenas who wore down a lion by gnawing at its hind legs from multiple directions and then barely retreating once attacked, the bullies just laughed, dodged and threatened to inflict even worse damage should Chance hit this or that bully with the big old stick he swung. While swinging, yelling and looking each of his attackers straight in the eye, Chance managed to glance up and see his three sisters and two brothers all looking down from the second story window of their apartment. A few neighbors were looking down from theirs too. Most had seen similar scenarios with Chance many times and were probably bored with the highly predictable outcome. Chances single mother had stopped interfering some time ago after her firm counsel not to go outside when those mean bullies were out there, or to come inside when they came outside, or to change his route when he came home from school were completely and out right ignored. He was furious when she hollered at them to leave her bleeding son along. So her motherly interference had probably been reduced to private tears and prayers after she doctored his bloodied lips for about the fifth time and both sensed and heard Chances determined reasons for his strong defiance.

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Honey, dont go back out there, had now come infrequently from his mother. That was met with a frequent and quick, They aint gonna tell me where to go or what to do. And then he would stare at her and obviously wanted her to hurry up so that he could go back outside before the bullys parents made them come inside. Rug Dealer (Summer 2013) If he told someone that his diabetes was out of control or that he had two previous heart attacks they wouldnt have been surprised. As a candidate for diabetes in waiting he wheezed as he chained smoked between talking. He had round, soft shoulders and a belly to match. His belly would occasionally un-tuck his shirt when he coughed, faked a hard laugh or stood up after falling into a chair instead of sitting in it. Most of his comments were profane but to him the comments were credible and not just cruel talk. To the Rug Dealer his comments were credible insights into and about the true nature of the human character. He read people through the lens of the mental smoke called despair. But he had hope, he hoped for the best way to control others while doing the least harm to himself. The Rug Dealer was on his way to one of his favorite spots and Chance was watching. Thanks to Google Earth, hacked GPS systems and other geo-digital surveillance outlets Chance occasionally monitored the Rug Dealers movement outside of and within the Embassy. Chance used his quantum computer to hack into and hi-jack satellites if necessary, especially Chinese satellites. Hed hack the Chinese as a matter of a little payback mixed with need. The Rug Dealer felt safe after all he was in the United States and the Taliban considered him to be useful, and as long as he was useful they would not do more than gossip about a need for killing him.

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Re-Use-It

(2013)

All three were important to Re-Use-Its success. Those three were the customer, the hourly limited partner and the unlimited commissioned partner. But as far as being the engine that made the rest of the machine run smoothly it was definitely the unlimited partners. Those partners had invested in their own community and also had a vital stake in RUIs success. The unlimited partners werent treated like shareholders, who coldly sacrificed frontline workers for even more profit, but the unlimited partners were treated like co-owners. The partners were those who invested $10,000 in the company and received better than stock like returns, since the return was guaranteed so long as the company had a healthy operating budget, profits were a secondary concern. The health of the human engine, the partners was the primary concern. One could also become a partner at RUI by exceeding $20,000 in sales during any six consecutive months, while other options for becoming a partner were negotiable with the hiring committee or within the structures of open company meetings. All meetings were held as needed and not according to some inflexible schedule, like weekly, monthly and otherwise. Most people met while they worked and also ironed matters while working in order to try and avoid the need for a formal meeting. Hourly workers were limited partners. Limited partners had half a vote and werent allowed to sit on any committees. Hourly workers were treated like public servants but only better, especially since the Affordable Care Act (ACA) kicked in. Due to the ACA so long as a worker could reasonable justify their health care needs being in accordance with the program selected by them, RUI covered any difference that would go beyond the average percentage of other hourly workers enrolled at RUI. Also, their medical visits didnt result in pay being docked for the hours missed. A special committee monitored that aspect of RUIs health policy and made recommendations and even adjusted the companys health policy when needed. Chance and Anthony were the only two with veto votes but even their votes could be overridden by a two thirds majority vote. Such a vote was known as the RUI Supermajority and had yet to be an exercised option. The Supermajority could also break any entrenched tie between Chance and Anthony should it ever come to that.

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RUI was the peoples company so Chance made sure that even he couldnt temporarily loose his mind and become an uncontrollable tyrant. He already had made his fortune, now he was dedicated to helping others reel in theirs.

The Assignment Assessment: A 100-Point Scale To avoid killing mean people simply because he hated them like the Drug Dealer, Chance had developed a system that allowed him to take his personal biases out of the process for selecting his assignments. He based it upon an assessment that consisted of a 100-Point Scale. There were ten areas that were assessed and here were just five of those ten: Just being merely a psychopath was assigned 20 points, human trafficking 25, a person on a wanted list was assigned 30, anyone actively planning civilian attacks 30, government or corporate terrorism was 15 points, and so on. Hed pass on a project that scored less than 60 points and would accept almost without hesitation as an assignment that scored 65 points or more. The Rug Dealer was a 73. The nephew of the terrorist uncle who was tortured with the use of flesh eating bacteria had scored a 41. Thats also why he wasnt killed. The uncles threat score was a 71. Osama bin Ladens threat score started out as a 71 but became a 93 when he struck on American soil. To earn a score of 100 the villain would have to be capable of throwing the world into a World War and not just speak of a desire to do so. Chance first acquired the impulse to kill Osama bin Laden back in March of the year 1999 after having read the book Greetings America. My Name is Osama bin Laden. But there were others on his assessment list that had scored higher than even Osama at the time. Later Osama would have the highest threat score ever but even Chance and the Unknown Committee hadnt foreseen American Intelligence dropping the ball to the degree that they had during the overall Bush years and 9/11 in particular. It was a tough job so blame was useless unless it was useful. But right now the Rug Dealer was in his sights and not so much so for being a terrorist but for being a weapons dealer, a brutal human trafficker and drug dealer. Oddly he was being protected by the United States. He was living at the Royal Embassy of Saudi Arabia, which was a consulate in Washington, D.C. In other words he was living better than 99% of Americans. The Rug Dealer and Q,
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the latter who Chance would learn about, both needed to decay and decompose; as fertilizer was good for the soil.

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CHAPTER SIX The Bullied: The Early Years (Late 1960s) The first year of fighting against the six bullies seemed liked a decade but it really had lasted a little short of six months. Winter even slowed much of that down to a trickle. That was when winters had snow drifts that reached the heights of second story windows, which to his mothers horror Chance jumped out of into the snow on the way to school. There werent hardly any snow days back then. Schools rarely closed due to any Act of God. Once the snow had melted, Chance met his first friend in the projects whose name was Alfred Harrison. Alfred was a little taller than a midget with an afro that gave him the appearance of being a half foot taller than he was. He approached life as a big man with big thoughts. What he had way back then would be called swag today. His swag was Black Panther born. He was Tupac before Tupac was even born. Real gangstas fought police brutality with small arms and counter police abuse tactics. Pimps and hustling punks and other parasites feed off the fear of the people that Panthers sought to protect before they were rejected by their own people and brought down by the FBI with the help of Civil Rights leaders who opposed violence as a method of protection from further unchecked violence. Alfreds two older brothers were actual Black Panther members, org anizers and would some years later die in a shoot-out with police on the Southside of Chicago. But before they were legally murdered, during one of their visits to their mother the brothers had seen Chance drawing for one of those win a chance to go to art school gimmicks that use to appear in magazines such as Life. Aside for replicating a sample picture of Bambi, the pictures for artistic replication were conservative looking White people which was cool and an opportunity to Chance. But it was psychologically wrong and demanded immediate therapeutic attention and correction according to the Black Panthers. Soon and with renewed delight Chance was drawing men with Afros and Jim Kelly sideburns. Their lips were full and cute little Black girls had told Chance that his was art sketches were beautiful. Black was beautiful, no one had ever told Chance that. Not even Blacks. No one had before the Panthers ever shown Chance how to protect himself either. No one had ever told Chance that police were bullies and that that was why
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they never smiled back when he waved at them. Dragnet, Get Smart and Ironside he would learn were pathological lies. Well, maybe not Ironside though. U.S. Marshalls Lost & Found (2011) The anonymous foreign translation software created in the mid-1990s was not the only gift Chance lent to the chaotic and loosely organized leaders and followers of early thug life on the streets of Flint and Detroit. Chance had since then updated or crossed over into an easier territory of counter surveillance. U.S. Marshalls had efficiently lost over 2,000 encrypted radios since 2011, and Chance personally new of gangs and drug dealers who hired nerds to break the encryption and listen in on their chatter after Chance made some of those lost and found phones available to them. Besides for Chance, people in general were sick and tired of the overreach from the drug war and with pretending like their covert operations were a covert and highly classified good. The word on the street had been growing in knowledge about D.E.A. like agencies and other drug operatives since the 1960s when they flooded the streets with heroin. Leaks helped the cause but they failed to lead to the imprisonment of for the likes of Colonel Oliver North, a huge government sanctioned drug dealer and arms runner. So with the help of organizations and individual people like Chance, the politically oppressed of the drug war were fighting overreach with counter intelligence. Thats why its referred to as a chess game, only the abused were no longer just sacrificial pawns in the match of wits and nit-wits. But the guiltiest parties of the drug war were not the Republicans like most people thought. The guiltiest were many members of the non-institution building Democratic Congressional Black Caucus and mega church Bishops. And who they were was well documented during the government sanctioned flood of crack. That flood also served to expose their combined lack of effective leadership as it was all a repeat of something that had happened many times before. Lucky for them the Unknown Committee strictly forbade any direct attacks on American politicians and clergy without special permission. And that permission was likely not to be ever given. Or else 100 Black preachers would be in 100 Black Coffins at best, or extorted for money, at minimum. The U.S. Marshalls werent the only bumbling organization with more than a few incompetent pockets of mismanagement. Thats why most weapons thieves kept up with the police departments mismanagement. The fact that a well95

managed police department was always overpraised highlighted the underlying theme that many were not well run. Take the U.S. Park Police (USPP). The USPPs military-style weapons armory had one weapon missing and no one could determine how many more weapons were gone. The record keeping was so bad that not even a basic inventory was taken. Basic property management was non-existent. Most of the weapons had no official status and the weapons slated for destruction were also ripe for theft by employees, weapons dealers and others. Licensed dealers hired thieves to steal the weapons. Once stolen the weapons were then resold on the streets at 100% profit. Some of their own sworn officers took government-issued rifles home with them. Now the greater concern was if that rifle was stolen from the officer what would or could that officer do? Worse, those same weapons could be used on other police and the public. Either way when used in the commission of a crime those weapons would be hard to track. Worse still, if the government got more involved the situation would probably worsen as the good ole boy network was always leaning toward blowback and keeping others out of their way. That was the problem, their way. They measured their own performance internally and so too did the U.S. Marshalls. Trudys Quick Hello (Late Summer 2013) Trudy called her dad just to tell him that she loved him and that she was sorry for not returning his earlier call. She also told him that the discussions for the 2014 fund raising concert in Washington, D.C. was going well and that they were all considering early February or Mid-June as a general concert date. As expected, Trudy was doing well at school and was having a hard time containing the growing list of friends she had. Just like in high school she was an AKA (an Alpha Kappa Alpha) at the University of Michigan, and the only reason she wasnt its President was because the rules forbade a fresh-lady from being so. That quick update warmed Chances heart. He couldnt help but to call Taylor afterwards just to tell her that he loved her not that he needed an excuse. Lately Taylor was often in Germany as her mother had agreed to a semester of homeschooling so that Taylor could also focus on building up her EDM studio. She really loved Electronic Dance Music and her stepfather was being supportive by bankrolling the enterprise so long as she kept her grades and respect for reasonable authority up.

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Switzerlands government and its educational authorities were flexible when it came to educating its youth. It was more a system of meritocracy as opposed to the stifling and often inflexible bureaucracies of America and other Western democracies. The austerity in Western education was justified as standardization and few people wanted to hear Chances rants about that. Both Trudy and Taylor were thriving both physically and spiritually, and he was never too insubordinate to acknowledge Americas and Swedens role in that. SELF-DESTRUCT E-MAIL TO JIMMICA (2013) Warning! You have 5-minutes after opening this e-mail to read it. Dont try to copy or download it. Jimmica suspected that something she may not have anticipated would happen if she tried to copy or download the unauthorized e-mail. She was split between being frustrated by the sender and hoping that one of the e-mails would benefit her teams National Security efforts someday soon. She also felt like her career was in the balance based largely on how their strange cyber stalking relationship developed. Now with that she wasnt at all comfortable. At best it was an unorthodox path to the top of the game of Cyber Security Intelligence, as the President and Vice President had instructed her to string Chance along. In the e-mail Chance explained to her that critical infrastructures of oil, gas, water, food and beverages were currently being facilitated by manufacturers who were wide open to a cyber-massacre. That vulnerability had a gaping hole made even wider through human capital related cost reduction measures, made by the superiority inclined and recently graduated MBAs executives who led and managed those faulty manufacturing protocols. Charged with the corporate fantasy of creating a lean and more efficient company, the profit motive continued to be spoken of in politically correct terms. Downsizing skilled employees with higher salaries and the most earned vacation time was really what was meant. Book practices and simulated modules cannot in real time solve problems, so the skills gap created by downsizing played a bigger role in the cyber-security lapse that many were only hopefully only being made reaware of. Imagine if the New York Transit Authority had downsized like that before Sandy hit. Would they have made the proactive moves they made? No, because
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those moves were made by people who had industry memory. They knew which closed routes were still useful for rerouting and they had plenty of storm data on hand to know just how high their barriers needed to be. All of that vanishes during an employee downsize of virtually any measure. Those with skills by experience can address those cyber threats that most cannot because they have never had the experience and do not know the logistics of the company wide system well enough to know where to even begin to search for the cause of the threat once it occurs. Thats why the two, the new and the old, were much stronger together than they were apart. The costs saved will inevitably develop into greater costs of time and repair. The company will save on salaries and earned vacations but as drones and peacekeeping coalitions continue to shrink the safe havens and training grounds of global terrorists, its just a matter of time before Jihadists abandon their century after century old strategy of guerilla warfare and enlist STEM terrorists for digital and environmental combat. Then they will battle us from nice air conditioned hotel suites with free WI-FI instead of from the rugged terrains and mismanaged countries from which they now fight. Instead of blowing up an oil field theyll tap into the fracking pumping systems and release a bunch of previously time-released chemicals into the natural gas pipeline, making that gas useless. Instead of just simply trying to poison the water theyll just override the pumping systems and empty all of our untreated raw sewage directly into a citys system of drinking wells and may even double down by directing the fracking chemicals there, too. And instead of trying to put cyanide into our food and beverages, they will just overload them both with the industrys additives, as they disrupt the time-released digitally controlled aspects of most of our vulnerable manufacturing control systems. I have already disrupted two such attempts by pure luck. But heres the ironic part, the downsized workers were the ones who were likely the most able to react decisively to such attacks when they inevitably occur. The CEO, all she or he know or admit to is cost-containment and how to manipulate shareholders into forking over ever more higher executive compensations. If I sound a little like Senator Elizabeth Warren, its because Im an off and on fan of hers. Its all just a matter of time Chance warned, and even that time had expired. P.S. See the 2012 anonymous research Internet Census tracking for the potential manufacturing targets, which at last count was 460 million.
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After that, the e-mail just faded away and no trace of it could be recovered. That e-mail never existed as a matter of record.

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CHAPTER SEVEN The Bullied: The Early Years (The Late 1960s) Ralph Hernandez There was one street that sat right along the western side of the housing projects. It was the first street before one reached all of the other neighborhood streets that stretched for miles when headed west from the projects. That particular neighborhood didnt have any apartments, only houses. Communities hadnt yet been sliced and diced by the White and Black flights former occupants, many of whom would turn around and become the communitys amnesiac realtors. The entire half of the first street was full of Mexican families. They lived in about nine homes but it seemed like over one hundred people would empty out of them at times. The other half of the street was a mix of Whites and Blacks, while the rest of the miles of neighborhoods were 99% White and resembled the 1950s iconic and packaged communal perfection and extended all the way to the railroad tracks. On the other side of those tracks were miles and miles of mostly Black people who lived in nice homes and who worked primarily for General Motors. There were only two White families in the entire projects. The Gonyeas, who were like family and the Smiths who were nasty and ridiculed but rarel y ever beaten up or robbed. The Gonyeas mother feed Chances family and Chances mom feed them. Their mom threatened Chance with corporeal punishment when he was caught doing mischief and Chances mom threatened his White brothers when they were caught doing similar mischief. But Ralph was well known for more than mischief. He was a bully and the worse kind. Rumor had it that he had flunked the sixth grade six times, mostly due to his skipping classes and a refusal to learn English. Even Chances core of six bullies avoided Ralph. But for some sick reason Ralph hadnt avoided loosening his reign of terror over Chances elementary school. Chance was in the sixth grade and had never seen or heard of Ralph. He unfortunaly met Ralph one day in front of the school shortly after the dismal bell had rung. There was a large fight circle of kids and a few teachers who obstructed Chances view of what was taking place. He came to see Ralph in the middle of the fight circle. He was picking on and making a little girl cry. He kept pushing her back to the ground every time she attempted to get up.
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The teachers hurled empty threats at him and some students yelled their displeasure at him anonymously. But he taunted them all and continued to push and tease the little girl and made even dirtier what was once a pretty little clean dress. Chance hadnt even seen 10-seconds of the event before he had seen enough and never once thought to first size up the situation. He instead stepped into the circle and simply and calmly warned, Leave her alone, butt-hole. He would have called Ralph worse but, as was mentioned, there were teachers present and he respected respectable adults. His mother had a belt that would challenge any disagreements about that if he ever had any, which he didnt. Chance wasnt sure if it was the other kids who laughed at him or if it was the outright challenge itself that enraged Ralph. His rage made Chance suddenly realize just how much bigger and older Ralph was than he. It hadnt mattered that Ralph had a mustache, a shadow of a beard and outweighed Chance by about 40lbs. It hadnt mattered because by now Chance had seen at least three fights of Muhammad Alis and had actually been instructed by Alfreds two older brothers from Chicago about how to defend himself. Ralph and Chance fought for at least an hour. It ended in a draw. They both had a bloodied mouth. Ralph was tired, Chance was still Ali shuffling, and they all had to get home before their mothers placed an APB (all-points-bulletin) belt out on each and every one of them for taking so long to get home from school. Basement: The Four Corner Room and Rug Dealer (Late Summer 2013) Chances man-cave was unlike any other man-cave. Unlike 99% of the homes in Georgia he had a basement but it was actually unlike any other basement or four cornered room. It was literally fire, bomb and heat sensor proof. His basement was actually one acre larger than his entire home and was virtually un-breachable. The only walled off portion of the basement was his science and astronomy lab. There were no TVs or a stereo system. There was no pool table or any other game. There were just computers with multiple virtual screens. There were also stations for multi-purposed simulators, scanners and two electron microscopes. One computer actually operated a telescope that was hidden from view on his retractable rooftop. It was in a much less sophisticated basement that Re-Use-It was born. Re-Use-It was officially and approximately a five year young company. Unknown was that Chance had been working on the business concept first in his
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basement back in Flint, Michigan in the 1990s and finished the details in his current multi-purposed four corner room. His personal library was housed there and a series of hidden pneumatic tubes lead to the outside. The multiple exits from the basement were beneath several of the sculptures that also had hidden passages that could be revealed by levers which were concealed in the artistry of sculptures. And inside the sculpture, if one managed to get that far, all that was revealed was a key pad that required a code. He could also monitor every inch of his property from his basement. There was even a lower level beneath the basement where there was a walk-in safe. Thats where special weapons and technologies from the Unknown Committee were stored, along with enough food and water for a year. Of course the entire foundation and house had a series of self-destruct mechanisms if certain protocols werent made or if the property was under military like police assault. Chances house was the wrong place for the police to accidentally or intentionally raid. One Hundred Black Coffins would be more than a Django Unchained song if they did raid it. Another of Chances more interesting weapons was a computer and satellite combination programmed sniper rifle. Something as simple as Googles view map code could be copied and pasted as input into the program and a quarter on the ground, if that was what one was seeing on Google and targeting, could be hit dead center by a specially manufactured bullet with a Nano-technology guided missile system that was scaled down. It was accurate for targets up to 50-miles away and could be modified for even a greater distance. Google view was being adapted, or was that co-opted, in order to spot the Rug Dealer at one of his favorite cigar cafes in Georgetown. It was one of the few reasons that he even left the U.S. Arab Embassy. He always had bodyguards at nearby tables and point men who secured the area prior to the Rug Dealers arrival. The Rug Dealer had many enemies for he often kidnapped and trafficked the daughters of the wrong people. And the wrong people were the ones who could do something about it. But protected daughters were highly valued and verifiable virgins, firmly ripe for misuse, abuse, and political or terroristic favors. Underwear Bomber Hurt (Late Summer 2013) The Underwear Bomber was just one of the mainstream news flashes that came up in Chances e-mail alerts. A light on details Media Matters and Associated Press
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report announced that the Underwear bomber had been hurt in a drone strike. Hurt, by a missile? Yeah, right, Chance thought. Usually if a person was within a 1,000 feet of its blast they were cooked and returned to the dust from which they came. It was not a confirmation, neither were White House Press Conferences oftentimes. The latter was glaringly missing, delayed for a reason and Chance was determined to find out if his list of terrorist suspects was indeed one villain shorter. It would be a shame not to have a valid mission oriented reason not to torture and then kill the fake Rug Dealer and his cousin. The news however had Chance pacing in his basement and sparked a growing need to go and run no less than five miles. Because he was still pissed about that young teenager the Rug Dealer had shot in the head. Re-Use-It (Late Summer 2013) Re-Use-It was full of Essence, Glamour, Vogue, People and other fashion and celebrity magazines from where many seamsters retrieved some of the inspirations for their designs. Work stations were designed according to the directions of the people who worked in the area. Some seamsters worked alone while others preferred to work as a team. There were several company lap tops, iPads and stand-alone PCs throughout the company. But most workers had their own as a result of the sales team striking a deal with a local Apple Store. It was no secret the higher pay check was not from hourly pay. The real money was in commission pay and commissioned work. Commission pay and commissioned work or orders from customers by a specific seamster was how to build up pay along with a substantial and far reaching customer base. The later, referrals, allowed some seamsters to start their own business with a non-compete clause that only required them to funnel 2% of their profits to ReUse-Its training program and to advertise their products on Re-Use-Its social network modeled interactive web site. And they were only obligated to do that for one year and could opt out afterwards. Re-Use-It was popularly being called we love it. Take that McDonalds.

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CHAPTER EIGHT The Bullied: The Early Years (The Late 1960s) Chance never really knew what respect and street cred was until the children and teachers at his elementary school began to show a lot of it to him. Ms. Brown, the newest and youngest sixth grade teacher at the school, had even invited him to come along to her home for cookies and milk along with the two honor roll girls she had always invited. The honor roll girls beauty and brains made Chance temporarily nervous and shy. Chance was almost flunking due to skipping classes to go fishing and to avoid mean White teachers, especially the principal. The first parent teacher conference hadnt taken place yet for the sixth grade, and when it took place Chance was certain to be awarded the belt by his humiliated mother. Just as it was previously stated none of the school staff were mean or dismissive of Chance anymore. And Ms. Brown had immediately seen that Chance didnt need help with his school work. He just needed to be in school much more often and just do the work. And since she was pretty, nice and encouraging Chance not only completed her class work, he asked for and received extra makeup work from her and the rest of his teachers; all of whom respected his positive change of attitude. It also helped that, due to the new level of respect, Chance would readily settle his classmates disputes with peaceful settlements instead of violence. He was an unofficial regulator and judge. All of the teachers and most of the students loved that, especially when a strong sense of justice and fairness was the apparent motivating factor.

There were over a dozen routes one could have taken to get from Chances elementary school to the projects. The route home that Chance had chosen to take was the same that was also a favorite route of Carlos and his five other athlete bullies, who never bothered Chance again after his epic battle with Ralph. Unfortunately, that route also went right by Ralphs street and as luck would have it, Ralph lived only three houses from the corner and would literally stand on his porch to police those who passed by. Ralphs family was huge and that only made him bolder.

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Detroit Bus Ride: Reminiscing (Late Summer 2013) While resting from a workout at Scott Park in Georgia, Chance remembered a conversation he overheard one day while on a bus ride in Detroit. Just about whatever city Chance was in, he loved the experience from people watching. And one of the best views for people watching was in the use of public transportation. It was just another way that he relaxed and took a break from driving himself and technologys embrace. He rarely ever had a cell phone with him (he often left it in the car) and that was well before everyone freaked out over the National Security Administration, Facebook, Twitter and Googles collaborative snooping methods. This was the conversation he remembered during his last ride on the way to Belle Isle in Detroit: Girl, I have to hit the high abuse button on that one, the one young lady said rather loudly, pushing back her braids as they fell over her face when she leaned down to look in her purse while giving that rushed advice. The other lady was patting her head and responded so low Chance couldnt hear her. She probably wanted the other lady to lower her voice too. Still, he aint got no right to tell you what to do. He aint yo daddy. Even lower voice response. You acting a fool, girl. Not me, I couldnt put up with that or put my mouth There was little doubt in Chances mind what they were talking about and that her low talking friend was just afraid to come out and just say that she enjoyed doing what he was asking her do. Chance was guessing that there was a lot of give and take there and that she was getting something out of it too. But how do you explain that to someone who had already condemned it as wrong? He smiled to himself not so much at the memory of the conversation but of the memory of the lady patting her head. He was watching a young lady in Georgia doing the same thing as he sat at the park for a little while after having put in some rise and shine speed work on the track. Women patting their heads, he managed to push back against the number of stereotypes that arose from those images.

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Jimmicas Investigative Teams (2013) Jimmica quickly dispatched her retrieval and test team to where the ice had been inexplicably and instantly melted. She was almost forced too because the usual weather and spy satellites all showed the area as normal and there was no data on the phenomenal occurrence other than before and after photos which came 24hours after the fact. Somehow the satellites had been blocked from monitoring the site and her staff had not even known it. That itself was a red-flag. Also if the terrorist or terrorists had to leave some clues behind she wanted to be able to retrieve them, which she believed they would have to because whatever was used had to be big and some sign of it was still out there she believed. The teams preliminary reports were mostly filled with you wont believe the lack of a scientific explanation for this or that. She had already suspected that none of the satellite images would reflect what her teams actually observed and measured. The satellites for days reflected normalcy but how was that possible when all of the satellites were functioning properly? And there was definitely nothing normal about the apocalyptically melted snow and ice. The science teams preliminary measurements found no increase in CO2 emissions. There was nothing to indicate that one let alone a series of thermal events had peaked through the ice. There was nothing in the melted area that would explain past but much slower ice melts which could be cross referenced and compared to help explain this one. Unprecedented was a word reused over and over again throughout their reports. But her primary job was to figure out and explain things not to deliver facts about the unexplainable or the unprecedented. Chance on his Porch (End of Summer 2013) Before he purchased it, Chances home was advertised as Charleston Manor A with a listing price of $383,400. It was a 5-bedroom, 3 bath with 8,017 Square Feet under the roof. He got it for $262, 050 cash and put $2.7 million worth of renovations into it, much of it into the basement, ponds and creek that wasnt there until he moved in. The house and property was now worth $5.3 million and that didnt include the installed art and gardens. The home that he purchased ten years ago for his mother cost about five times as much, sat on 10-acres of land and was always full of relatives. In her home there was always lots of children and cooking. Chance was at home enjoying the soft warm breeze that was blowing a peach-scent over his wrap around porch where he was sitting. The porch was
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elevated to overlook his sculpture garden. It was the weekend after the Crim 10miler in Michigan, so he was relaxing reading, writing, thinking and physically recovering. The garden was full of pecan trees and had never been photographed for any national magazine but had grown in exaggerated fame by the fabulousness extended through the word of mouth from those who had seen it when he hosted a party there last summer. There was a quiet lagoon beyond the bridge, which some people at the party thought the lagoon was a marsh; although the two were dissimilar. But when one doesnt know what to call something or were too embarrassed or flaky to ask, call it what one knows, or think they know; right? Chance had been out enjoying the beautiful Georgia weather for some time. Anthony was at Re-Use-It probably studying journalism and monitoring projects there. Chance would probably not even go into the office on this day. He had been hopping on planes across parts of the United States for a couple of weeks so being home felt good and he planned to relax before going into the basement for focus on his other more pressing projects like the Rug Dealer. Maybe the thought of the Rug Dealer brought him to his next avenue of reflection since he had been reading and writing for a few hours and deserved an unscheduled break. For more than a brief moment Chance did a mental review of the hidden guns on and off of his property. Chance had guns spaced in intervals of 3, 5, & 10miles within a 13.1 mile radius. He had also spaced an assortment of martial art weapons one or two miles apart. That meant that if a group of men managed to chase Chance out of his home, a place of business, library or any other place within 13 miles of his neighborhood he would be in running distance of a weapon. Unofficially Chance was able to run 13.1 miles in 1:18 minutes, which worked out to about 6 minutes per mile. Elite American, Kenyan and Ethiopian runners could do it in about 4:37 per mile which worked out to about 47 minutes. But it was highly unlikely that any operative would be an elite runner and if they were hed just shoot or subdue them. Most likely hed shoot them according to the rules of engagement. Most likely they were men like the cyber consultant Tom Sword in Colorado who had to complete a mile in about 8 minutes in order to pass his physical for the F.B.I., C.I.A. or whoever he worked for. Of course the time of 1:18 wasnt a part of any official record in Chances name. Chances official record was 1:45 for 13.1 miles, since official records were what the Intelligence community relied on unless they were somehow prompted to
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dig deeper; which was also unlikely in Chances case. He wasnt on any watch list for if he was he would have been detained and questioned at the airport. Still, it was a beautiful morning and Chance felt even more secure and sure of himself after having made a mental scan of his weapons and the beauty that concealed them. So her returned to his reading and thanked the universe again for being able to use Re-Use-It as a blessing to others. Fashions Suing Threats (Late August 2013) Chance felt real good. Hugo Boss, Giorgio Armani, Calvin Kline, Prada and others had all threatened to sue Re-Use-It for infringing on their designs. Chance loved it because when any establishment says that someone was doing something wrong, mostly likely they were doing something very right. And when asked about that libel potential, he would in turn ask, Do you want mainstream Chance or multi-streamed Insubordinate to answer? Chance, Fuck you all. Insubordinate, Fucking, fuck you all. It seemed that the major fashion labels were both angered and threatened by the unseasoned seamstresses who were not only replicating their overpriced styles, but who were doing so while being widely praised for being environmentally conscious and improving on the originals. And even worse, many magazine articles and viral online assessments had legitimized the Re-Use-It practice by praising and featuring, in side-by-side comparisons, the fashion house designs and Re-Use-Its in-house replications or improvements. Next theyll be trying to poach our seamsters. Poach is just a fancy word for steal. Just you wait and see. And I promise you that their actions and criticisms will get even worse. No industry likes to be disrupted or in this case interrupted, Chance fired back at the fashion critics. He welcomed angry controversy. Just like with Rap and Hip Hop, angry controversy was good and free PR for Re-Use-It. Look at our patterns, feel our textures, and fall in love with our Global and multi-ethnic inspired colors and models. We have taken what no one else had thought to do or at least put together and put them together ourselves and made them work for all classes of people. Chance would always pause for some sort of theatrical affect.
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The consumer will ultimately decide what fair play is. And since we are on the side of the consumer we are confident that the court of public opinion will decide this matter in favor of the people. A week later all of the law suits were withdrawn and Chance was smart enough not to rub it in. They would likely be back and he would be ready. They thought they were up against a business but they were really up against a people and economic movement. Not to mention that their protector was a connected terrorist fighter. He almost felt sorry for them.

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CHAPTER NINE The Bullied: The Early Years (The Early 1970s) After Chance had graduated from his elementary school he had to go to a middle school that was clear across town. The middle school was surrounded by a White working class neighborhood. The huge ghetto was to the north while a thick and many miles wide portion of the White working class neighbor-hood provided a dense barrier between it and the middle school. The ghetto portion would years later be decimated and divided by a highway. The principal there was a hunchback. He had the notoriety of paddling Black students more often and much harder than White students. The school was about a 50/50 mix before Black and White flight would settle in and the school would years later be sold and would become a scrap metal junk yard. The most pressing problem at the middle school, though, was that for years White High School students made semi-weekly raids to the middle school with the expressed purpose of beating up Black students. It was normal, a part of the schools tradition. It was a bullying enterprise that merited avoidance and flight over fight. Well Chance and his core of four friends had just gone through a summer of marching drills and martial arts training with BCN, the Black Christian Nationalist. When not training or soliciting money for BCN, he and his friends also played baseball, football, golf, roller skating, hockey, dodge ball and woke up early to fish together. Three of them were a year or two older than Chance but all four of them called him boss. Tuffy didnt count for even a half. One, they never said it but they considered Chance to be sort of crazy and completely fearless. And two he ordered indecisive people around until they made a decision. The decision made on that particular day was to skip class, not to smoke marijuana or pony up for some beer this time. Chance had decided that it was time for them hunt for and confront the high school invaders. That was a crazy plan because there were never less than ten of them. Most of them played on the varsity football team and were built like grown men. Even the middle school bullies ran from them or were beaten up. When Chance was faced with doubts and fears it was like a wall went up, he couldnt hear fear or doubt at all. Well he could hear his own thoughts which
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werent fear or doubt but a plan that wasnt a plan in the classical sense, for victory. As his friends doubted, Tuffy mostly, he only wondered how they might most easily find the high school intruders.

The schools stairwell was a perfect place to fight to the point of submission. It was isolated and wouldnt draw class rooms out to create a fight circle and the ultimate interventions of school staff. When Chance and his friends discovered them there, the eleven or so high school students were highly over confident upon seeing them. And when Tuffy ran from the stairwell, fear was what they expected and was what they enjoyed most. Their smug smiles and taunting threats were soon erased as Chance dropped kicked the biggest one down a flight of stairs and ran, fist flying right into the heart of their group. Eventually it was Chance who smiled as he saw one of his friends, Crazy Joe, hitting a big dude in the eye with his afro pick to loosen the choking grip the bully had on him from the rear. The others were holding their own too. Chance and his friends were outnumbered by they werent out gunned. The bullies were up against a group of young men who had marched in complex formations for hours, and then as a martial arts warm up they would quickly form a circle around one person and attack that person. The attacks were hard and came from any angle with the aim of taking the encircled person down. Chance never went down and always volunteered to enter the circle first, and knew to locate Crazy Joe because he was the most likely to attack first. So the 3 to 1 ratio of high school students to Chances middle school students were favorable and fair odds in Chances mind. And almost the entire school, Black and White, gave them an ovation after they chased the high school bullies out of their school. Even the hunched back principal had to nod in approval. The architectural drafting instructor for the middle school had quickly heard of the heroics. He was of Greek ancestry and a known and unapologetic racist. He had also insisted that Chance be transferred to his class. His ulterior motive was for Chance to police the two bullies that were in his class. The instructor would let students fight in his classroom but they had to stop when he said stop.

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One of Chances closest friends was Crazy Joe. He had single-handedly beaten three of the high school bullies to a bloody pulp. Chance had met Crazy Joe after he had made a former friend of Chance, Victor who looked and talked tough because he was from Florida and not Michigan; climb up on a second story roof. Crazy Joe and Victor lived in the new housing complex that would never generate into a ghetto because it was properly managed and privately owned. It was also the complex that now sat where Chances childhood apple orchard once grew. Victor liked Crazy Joes sister but since neither Chance nor Victor had any training in courting and chivalry or any real examples of either of the two to mimic, Victor threw her ball up on the top of the roof. Hey, I like you so Im going to pull your hair, or tease you until youre furious, or just throw your ball upon an impossibly high roof so that you cant play with it anymore. An d it was all done because I like you. Fear of an arse whipping can bring out incredible feats. How Victor got up on that roof seemed impossible at first. But he shimmied partly up the gutter, had done a perfection imitation of Jean Valjean from Les Miserables at the corner walls and got up there onto that roof and retrieved that ball. That forced climbing incident lead to Chance and Crazy Joe becoming best friends and Victor being kicked to the curb. It was also how Chance had managed to free himself from the undercover cowardice of Victor and his three older but actively horny Pentecostal sisters. Those sisters would always sneakingly paw at Chances crotch whenever he visited Victor despite their being four or five years older than Chance. Crazy Joes sister was also in Chances drafting class. Chance treated her like he would a sister. Turned out that one of the bullies there had bullied her and had intentions to do more. He probably liked her. That never occurred to Chance who asked for and received permission to fight the bully. But having a hard head and a severe lack of impulse control, Chance failed to stop when ordered to even when he clearly had mopped the floor with the bigger guy. Chance was suspended 10-days for fighting, which was cool. That was also the reason why he had received a B grade instead of the A grade he had been on course to receive. Crazy Joes sister had gotten an A and was clearly the best draftsman in the class. She looked like a young Michele Obama but Chance only treated her like a sister and not the beautiful and smart woman she was growing to be and would later become.

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Chance later came to respect his drafting teacher. He was the first man whom he had ever heard really speak about respecting and protecting women as a route to being a man. Chance always sought to protect his mother and sisters, but that wasnt the same thing. In a sense Chance was already protecting women but after hearing his instructor Chance had placed a lot more thought and pride into respecting them just as he would any respectable man. Re-Use-Its Post-Lawsuit Resurgence (Late Summer 2013) The initial and later spread of doubters was Re-Use-Its best friend and ally. But even that was virtually erased after the Fashion Houses miscalculated and created a buzz and consequently dropped their lawsuits. Expecting shoddy workmanship, the surprise of superior quality delighted those who came with much less expectations, which was great because nothing sells and builds a consumer base quite like doubters who become admirers. And those doubters were few and definitely not from the state of Georgia. Valdosta was on the Georgia/Florida borderline. Chance was fascinated by the Publix grocery line whose home was Florida. At Publix employees were treated like co-owners. Re-Use-It was in a large part modeled after that operation. Chance also respected Costco, not only because they allowed his cousin to earn a position as a manager there during the early 2000s, but more so because Costco paid their employees with fair wages and treatment. Humans at those places were human capital and both were models for the innovation that the Occupy and Civil Rights Movement wasted precious capital protesting and marching for, according to Chance. Many of the other corporations were merely vultures who claimed to be doves within a free market. Variety was the unofficial motto of Re-Use-It. Quality would bring in customers and reasonable prices would keep them coming back. Re-Use-It had street cred and street cred couldnt be bought it could only be earned and had to constantly be re-earned. Thanks to the influx of energy from Anthony and the off-the-chart creativity of the seamster individuals and seamster teams, not to mention the financial and social benefit hustlers in the sales department, Re-Use-It was fighting to keep up with its fast growth. There was just so much in the pipeline that growth was inevitable. And no group had a monopoly over working class White and Black people when it came to the word of mouth. And word of mouth fed the growth and Chances concern.
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No matter how much Chance suggested to his co-partners at Re-Use-It to not overwork and to balance it with quality time, he always found workers putting in 12-hour or more hour days. They refused to let any delivery be late. That meant that early was on time and on time was almost late; they came to reason as they coopted Chances work attendance philosophy and applied it to product delivery. Now as far as working too much, well at least now many of them were bringing their children to the lounge areas at work and having meals with their spouses there, too. That was good for it would prevent or break the chains of neglect that can weigh down a relationship. More so they loved Chances ghetto laden defense of the company. Sometimes he could be very formal and stuffy. He joked but even that seemed serious since he was often times intense. Thats what always being prepared for bullies did to some people, even Chance. It was hard to relax when there were so many arse holes walking around and being clowns. The people at Re-Use-It were healthier clowns. The people were happy with their work family, so how could Chance or Anthony present a credible argument against that. The people at Re-Use-It were really turned on. Chance was just worried about the stresses of burn-out but the people were turned-on and flaming in an atmosphere of creative fire. So now when Eva Longoria or Gabrielle Union were featured on-line or in a magazine in a sweet mini or maxi dress or swimsuit and the article stated, Get the look, middle and working class people started to look for that look at Re-Use-It. And they looked to Re-Use-It with good reason because if the customer could imagine it Re-Use-It could make it and tailor it for that customer.

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CHAPTER TEN The Bullied: The Early Years (The Late 1970s) The summer transition from middle school to high school was fun, fun, fun. There were plenty of sports, a new beach had just opened and Chance had his first real girlfriend Joan. To him Joan was the prettiest girl in Flint and that was how everyone described her, cute or pretty. Joan was petite, very feminine and considered fighting for brutes and Neanderthals. She liked Muhammad Ali though and would later come to love Sugar Ray Leonard. Unlike the people neglected by the projects where Chance lived, Joan lived in a nice sub-division on the far, far eastside. Chance had met her through another friend from Florida. His name was John Lee and he was even more of a punk coward than Victor. But at least he had Joan who often worried about him. Unlike today, fights and fighting were a constant in the projects. The peace there was peaceful and seemed like it would last forever, when it was only three days tops. Unfortunately the fights were often fierce, petty and repetitive. Girls fought as often and as well as the boys. There were many girls who were in fact feared by many of the boys. And it seemed like the best of the fighting women were always the prettiest, just like Laila Ali was today. Still Joan was right to have been worried for Chance.

The group War had a popular song with lyrics that went, As I sit, in my 4cornered room. Now Chance wasnt sure if the 4-cornered room was a basement or later in life a prison cell, but at the height of the songs popularity it was the basement to Chance and too many of the groups other fans in River Park. Thats where Chances bedroom was, in the basement. There he had pieced together a stereo, made book shelves and had flood lights throughout. His next door neighbor was a White guy who was the same and like a brother to Chance. He would occasionally be jamming with Pink Floyd or Journey, groups that Chance would come to love and even Joan enjoyed hearing coming from the neighboring basement.

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Joan was there in Chances basement more often than not for long stretches until her parents came and claimed her. She was afraid to leave and go anywhere in the projects without Chance or one of his sisters. She was rather amazed at how no one bothered him or his family when so much apparent darkness was evident. Joan was also amazed at how focused Chance was with his studies. He studied school work even when school was out. It was two incidents that lead to that sense of heightened study. One day his mother had gathered the family together and told them that they could all earn $1 for every 20 grade level vocabulary words that they learned. Chances family was poor but they didnt live or act poor. Somehow his mother had managed to keep a new set of Encyclopedia Britannica on full display in their living room. The living room was a matching blue throughout and fully furnished. None of Chances sibling took up the offer and she would soon not be able to afford Chances lone efforts. She would often tell people, Its like a Martian took my son and brought down Chance. He changed overnight. She was referring then to his report cards and the praise his teachers shared with her when she went to parent teacher conferences, gone were the embarrassing disciplinary reports to her. His mother never really understood how profound her vocabulary challenge was. In Chances little mind if he had learned 20 vocabulary words he would be the smartest person in the projects. So it stood to reason that if he learned all of the college level vocabulary words that were in a special section of the Encyclopedia Britannica, he would be the smartest person in the entire world. But like it was stated earlier, his mother was only partially responsible for his transformation from academic rebellion to self-driven and formal education.

It was like divine intervention from an angelic former slave. Chance was on a bus ride from Joans house and was broke from having taken her to a horror movie and to McDonalds afterwards. He only had his transfer which gave him one hour to get another bus home. He was just beginning to hustle for money and being broke would become a distant memory soon. His bus ride home went right pass the public library and when the bus approached it he pulled the stop cable. He was in a trance like state and walked straight into the library and proceeded right to the Black History selection, a place he had never been. Once there he selected a book without even looking at its title.
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He opened it to a page with a Black man hanging from a tree. The caption beneath the picture stated that the man had been caught reading a book and that the hanging was his punishment for that offense. Chance read and studied with the attitude of a runaway slave from that day forward. He found a new freedom; it was a freedom and love of learning.

Re-Use-It: Research & Development (Late Summer 2013) The Research and Development was primarily staffed by a rotation of University students. There were three head chemists who worked as the Project Managers for R&D on a commission basis and were paid a percentage according to the products that they developed. They had the option of either working on in-house requests or working on their own ideas. Most had done both, so far. They mostly worked on ideas that required no federal approval or any other bureaucratic approval. So far softened turtle shells (from dead environmental causes, like an oil spill), leather processing processes using frog and fish skins with a secret twist on taxidermy to make them soft and non-allergenic. Silk from spiders was used and nothing was wasted. Beached whales were sought for their skin, often remotely, as part of the R&D teams responsibility was to search through environmental news for potentially wasted opportunities. Usually the only costs occurred by Re-Use-It from such efforts were shipping costs and a lot of times even those were deferred or shared. But to offset other costs, area churches began to drop off big garbage bags filled with clothing. Turns out that people hired from the homeless transition shelters and many of their co-church members worked for or praised Re-Use-Its economic unity efforts. And another team of seamsters were working to develop drop-off sites. Another aspect that came from R&D was to manage a growing combination of a quality control alongside a safety and occupational control team of thirty professionals. Also R&D was the reason that 3-electronic looms ran nonstop and was the nosiest part of the factory. Earplugs had to be worn for anyone who entered that part of the textile factory. But all the other parts of the factory were relatively quiet. In the other parts of the factory there was usually quiet with an air of concentration coupled with the soft chatter of sharing and strategizing mixing in with the music of soft jazz,
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instrumentals and R&B coming from the sound speakers that were throughout the factory. Chances Home Valdosta, GA (Labor Day Weekend 2013) Chances digital home security wasnt on a network like AT&T or Verizon which could and would be comprised, not to mention the levels of secured data that was only as secure as the money or government requests that pried that data loose. When their network collapsed, automated locks, appliances, phones, and televisions would all become lower than low tech. They simply wouldnt work. Chance lived and worked off the grid as often as his technology provided and it provided a wealth of options; but so did his stash of weapons. But right then his mind wasnt on independence or security it was on the beauty of Georgias natural beauty.

All Southern gentlemen, even transplanted Northerners, had to have a magnolia tree, a fig and pecan tree, near where vines of muscadine whose perfume made the air sweet. A muscadine was a grape with lady names like Darlene, Pam, Janet and Black Beauty to differentiate its variety. Chance had Black Beauty growing in the back by the pool and Darlene in the front of the house near the manmade pond, where the geese chilled and shitted everywhere. Chance home also had an oversize fireplace and lofty ceilings. The latter was because he had plenty of cousins with heights ranging from 64 to 610. His bedroom overlooked the sculpture garden and soft equally spaced blue lights (that were activated by moonlight and deactivated by the sun) marked the area of the creek and also served as a silent alarm sensor when the light was broken. That latter was added after Anthony and his little brother exposed a fault with his natural frog security. Leading to his bedroom there were bookshelves on the upper landing that concealed passage ways and was an area that yielded a peace for comfort thinking. He had his and hers sitting rooms, although until Mya there wasnt any her to even sit there. A secluded fire pit and part of the garden connected to the living room for an overall oneness with indoor-outdoor space. Stone steps led to an Olympic pool, one of Chances few indulgences and an expensive up keep. But it was great for
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pool parties, especially with a band playing in the sunken stage that doubled as a secluded fire pit not far from it. His gardens were full of mostly easy care and heat tolerant plants. There were orange, yellow and cream blooms of hybrid French and African marigolds. At least 75% of his house was a double-height glass wall that opened to the living room, bedroom and to the garden. The other quarter of the house had sevenfoot tall blackamoor figures. Dr. Dolls home was larger and cost much more than Chances. He only had five bedrooms and a three car garage. Hers had eight bedrooms, 5 and half baths with a six car garage filled with six cars and sat on 26 acres of land. And she talked and thought bad about Rappers who were wasteful and extravagant. Extravagance, he guessed, was in the eye of the beholder. The Rug Dealer (2013) With two or three rolls of whale blubber on the back of his neck; he had soft shoulders that sloped down and a belly that jutted up and out. His eyes wondered out of the habit of searching for danger and he was used to being the prey that capitalized on unwelcomed opportunities. The wandering eye he thought made him look like an alert businessman. Sometimes that false portrait of him was framed by non-prescription eye glasses like the ones Woody Allen wore; only Allen was indeed an alert businessman. Chance was monitoring him from his basement but knew that the Drug Dealer was about to switch gears as one of his five guards motioned to him that it was time to go. He pressed out the embers his cigar. His cigar would have made a fine blunt for Chance saw that it came from a labeled camel bone chest that had the price of $115,000 on it. And as Chance had anticipated several black Mercedes Benz rolled up and the Rug Dealer got into the identical car that was in the middle of the others. Chance was being careful and that too could lead to mistakes. There seemed to be no natural flow to his target and that bothered him. Maybe he was pressing because he wanted to complete this particular mission should it develop well before his retirement and definitely before the start of his farewell tours that were scheduled to begin in 2014. He had to wait and see how it all developed but for

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now he was fighting back the boredom from the chatter of pro and anti Snowden comments amongst the hackers. Chance knew that a hacker might reveal something that they wouldnt have other-wise when caught up in the emotions of a rant and if someone cautioned them to tone it down he would know then to latch onto the comments of both hackers in that particular circumstance of give and take. There was usually something useful that could be tied together by what was said and not said. The hackers were also ranting about Palantir, which were the brains behind one of the biggest Big Brother Projects in the U.S. How did Chance know? He read about Palantir in Forbes magazine. Others low information seekers were not even aware that they were waiting for it to be a late news item on some Yahoo or MSBNC news fed. And they could forget about taking in an expose about Palantir on Fox or CNN because that would require investigative journalism and most of the investigative journalists where freelancers or on 60 Minutes. The Press had never been free and if Chance could help neither would the Rug Dealer.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN Re-Use-It (RUI) (The 1970s Collection) The 1970s Collection in conjunction with basement parties, as they were called but not located, was a regional and national hit. Most of the seamsters were hard pressed to fill orders and the people associated with the 1970s Collection were the first team that required a third shift of premium pay workers. The 1970s Collection began in early 2012 and was co-headed by Naomi, who would give the woman with the worlds biggest afro on YouTube a run for her money, and by Arvella, who was almost bald with a boys closely cropped crew cut. That was about the only difference between the two. Their inspiration was all things Soul Train. They had even garnered permission, by using the sales team, from the former Don Cornelius and his estates managers to use footage and posters from Soul Train in their thematic web site ad campaigns and design displays at Re-Use-It outlets. As Don Cornelius use to say of the music from back in the day and which could also be said about the fashions rolling from the racks of RUI, Stone Cold Grooves baby. And it was appropriate as most fashion lines at Re-Use-It were released in the form of music and modeled on the reinforced productions like that of todrickhall on YouTube.

Naomi was 49 years old and Arvella was 52 years old. They both loved the 1970s and Trudy who loved the 1990s and who loved them back. It was Trudy who showed them in 2013 how to take orders and book gigs while relaxing and sitting in downtown Valdosta. That was opposite of their old school way of playing phone tag and piling up air travel miles to hold meetings or pitch their clothing line, along with other ways to waste time while seeming business like and important. Naomi and Arvellas sales had topped $2.3 million in 2012 and were already well beyond that record by the spring of 2013. The 1970s Collection was also stirring up talks about a spinoff of Soul Food catering for the party gigs. It was actually a no-brainer with the re-mixed music of Chaka Khan, Cameo, The Barkays and Confunkshun providing the funk to encourage people to move, they were also certain to get hungry and that made healthy cooked Soul Food an idea meal.
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Another feature that made Re-Use-It customer friendly was its non-intrusive shopping policy. Sure there were security cameras at the entrances and exits, and sure there was an upper security observation room with tinted windows where two to three men sat with loaded shotguns and who possessed high powered binoculars with specially fitted digital cameras. But that too was non-intrusive and for the customers safety as well as for the people who contracted with Re-Use-It. It was well known on the streets that if you tried to rob Re-Use-It youd be lucky to make it out alive. And as for the sorry gunmen who failed in the world and then would decide to take it out on everyday people, Chance publicly announced that they would be shot and a preventative bounty of $500,000 was offered by him as a precaution. He also promised to foot the legal bill should the authorities be driven by the politics of the few and intentionally mislabel it as vigilantism. Besides global terrorists, Chance really, really and really disliked homegrown terrorists who shot up people at McDonalds, workplaces and other public spaces. Those shot were civilians and justice for them had to be swift and decisive in the present and well into the future. Security aside, inside the RUI outlet stores non-intrusive hospitality measures were taken. There were stations throughout the store where the customer could turn on a light for a service request and receive that service in under 60seconds. Most customers would enjoy the atmosphere of shopping at Re-Use-It so much that they usually werent even aware of the extra security measures used to protect them. Periods: A Natural Cycle (2013) They knew it was going to be one of those serious talks after he called just by the way he said hi. Chance called to caution his daughters, to warn them not to jump on the no-period hype cycle of 2013. He reminded them of something that neither of their motherss ever even mentioned: The period is natures way of cleansing the woman of many toxins, both known and unknown. He went on to explain that the doctors and researchers who were pushing the questionable convenience of not having a period were also pushing the devices and drugs that made the non-period unnaturally natural. Those who participated were
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essentially test monkeys. Chance didnt say that last part to his daughters but that was about the third time he had thought it. His daughters response was like what was he worried about. They hadnt even heard about that crazy stuff anyway so how could they do what they didnt know? Plus it seemed whack and he knew that they didnt experiment with new health products or semi-scientific processes period. They didnt say it but his daughters probably thought that he had his parental preaching and science becoming more and more compromised by corporations rants to thank for that. A softer problem was that he had read about it in Glamour or Cosmopolitan. His daughters didnt read magazines but he was sure that it would be streaming across the internet soon if it wasnt already. Those pushers of the devices and contraceptive drugs knew that many young people werent afraid to experiment and were looking for new experiences and even earlier conveniences. And thats the part that concerned Chance, the medical experimentation and the drive for convenience at the expense of caution. He just hoped that the young ladies who were medically experimenting with their bodies didnt pay for it dearly later in the prime of their life. No w that unsettling thought as a reality would be much more than inconvenient. Lucky: Graduation Year (1976) Joan liked him to get high, for sometimes it was the only time he talked freely about his aspirations for him and her. And it was definitely one of the few times when he was less angry at the Man. Chance used weed in the 1970s because it didnt interfere with his academic studies. If anything it helped him focus for long periods of time. He was burning the midnight oil along with the rising sun. He would sometimes have to force himself to sleep because sleep deprivation would only lead to wasted and scattered brain time. Others used weed to help them focus on the focus of not studying and that lack of focus gave weed a bad rap. They were called weed heads. Chance, on the other hand, would have to prove to strangers that he smoked. Chance was different. In his mind weed helped a person to be more of who they already were when sober, unlike alcohol which helped them to be more of who they were afraid to be when sober. Alcohol provided the cover of an alter ego and was an acceptable excuse for misbehavior. Alcohol was a cowards courage. Alcohol was courage in a bottle.
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Chance never put it to the test, but had he got hooked on any drug that affected his school or had gotten hooked on anything greater than alcohol or weed, Lucky might have hospitalized him and then calmly explained to Chances mom, Luckys aunt, that it was for Chances own good. Anyhow, the closer he got to his graduation the less he smoked. And after his encounter with the Unknown Recruiters later he would cease to smoke or drink for more than the next five years after that encounter. Knowing Lucky and who he was had given Chance the spirit to challenge the Unknown Recruiters and there were many reasons why that wasnt a false courage and a courage which couldnt be bottled. Most of that courage came from life lessons whose overall theme was that it was a waste of life to live with fear.

Saginaw Street and Pierson Road was a very busy intersection in Flint, Michigan. Saginaw St. cut through the center of Flint and could actually take one clear on through to Saginaw City, which was called Sagnasty and the nasty was akin to the affection for and with the Dirty South. Going down Saginaw Street and then East on Pierson Road would also connect drivers to I-75 and I-75 could also be connected to in either direction on Saginaw Street but that would have made for a much longer drive. Lucky was headed down Pierson as he and Chance were on their monthly morning drive to Detroit. Remember the earlier ghost story about the man who died every night around midnight? That was at Vernitas house and Lucky was her baby brother. Both of them were very family oriented and other than having the same parents and older brother Whitney that was about all they had in common. Saint seeker versus practical sinner would have more accurately described them. Chance new what the drive to Detroit was about. He had been making it with Lucky just about every 30-days ever since Lucky learned that Chance was a decent street fighter with a spreading rep. Lucky never bothered with punks or chumps. Cowards were dangerous and definite tattle tellers, later to be known in Hip Hop as snitches and by gangstas as masculine bitches. Chance was not a punk or chump and was honored to be a chosen one of Luckys, who would often let Chance chauffer him. Many of Chances uncles did the same and all had new cars, as many of them worked in the factories of General Motors or Ford and most down payments were made after playing and winning a
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bet on the street numbers. The street numbers, as mentioned in the prologue, were stolen in a non-adjudicated process of Imminent Domain which would be later known as the State Lottery and an honored tradition of uncompensated theft. Detroit was where Lucky got his syrup from and the ride there was mostly when he told Chance street stories. But before a few of those stories were to be told, by todays standards they should not have been making that ride to Detroit. There were blizzard conditions and snow drifts were forming hills for the base of what would surely later be blown into Snow Mountains. The Cadillacs wind-shield wipers had done little to offset the blinding white snow that was coming even faster at Luckys Cadillac that was moving a little above 70 -mph. The speed limit signs were posted at 55-mph and Mother Natures very visible 25mph or better yet stay inside or off the roads sign was being defied. The highway lanes were none existent as they made their way. They followed the barely exposed tracks of the few cars and trucks that had come through earlier. Lucky and Chance were funkin to Marvin Gayes Got To Give It Up from an in dash 8-track. The exaggerated version of the long version of that song would take one nearly to Detroit and back. Lucky was funkin and drove one handed while looking at Chance and exaggerating the details of one story after another. The harder Chance laughed the more stories mixed with less and less truth Lucky boldly told. Boy, had this broad named Contessa, Lucky said, not looking at the road. And she had a big old ass and tits. I never fucked with her though, cause she wore wigs and you know I dont dig no sweaty ass wigs. Lucky went on and on about her pimp being his friend and how she would service 50 men before noon and then eat a fat meal and laugh about their little Oscar Meyer wieners. Anyway, she used to make the Detroit trip with him and one day the pigs, as Lucky referred to the police, pulled them over during their return back to Flint. Man it was darnest thing ever. Lucky explained how she took four bottles of syrup and one by one shoved them up into her pussy. She did that with ease and later said the bottles felt good being up in there.

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Thats all we had because we had already dranked two and those four were for sale. Anyway, for sure, the pigs were pissed off and called us all kind of Cadillac driving niggers and was mad as hell because there wasnt nothing to bust us on. Chance was not then and would never later be turned on by any extreme sexual freakiness. So the thought of her shoving those four bottles up her thang grossed him out. Not to mention that his little thang wouldnt even wake her from a light nap. Lucky, however, could barely stop laughing and was almost slobbering on himself. He stopped laughing and half slobbering when the car slipped suddenly and he had to correct it. He had to use both hands then. Both hands were not enough as the car spun one way and then fishtailed as it was being corrected and man handled. It was never corrected and the car whipped into a 360 spin. Chance never panicked nor worried not even when the diesel horn could be heard over Marvin Gaye, whose singing was beginning to skip on the 8-track. The 18-wheeler barely missed Luckys car as it sped on by and never once endangered itself by applying a panicked brake. He was driving a missile and was prepared to plow through whatever foolish mistake that was before him. In other words, he obviously had no desire to die trying dangerously to save a couple of fools who had no business on the road. Shit, was all Lucky said as an off shoulder snow drift caught the car like a baseball players glove would catch a fast ball. The pop of the ball being stopped in the glove was exactly how their stop sounded. The sound could even be heard over the loud music which was playing just fine now. They should have been stuck judging by all of the snow that flew up from their spin and sudden stop but they werent stuck. So Lucky just eased on back onto the highway and they both laughed and barely considered the thought of death.

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CHAPTER TWELVE Re-Use-It (RUI) The RUI brand could never be repositioned because it was already positioned to be across category or as a mix of multiple categories. The mystery of what might emerge next was a designers cross over dream. The seamsters managed that as they borrowed from the top designers, used both new and recycled materials and were not burdened by the ego driven rules of profit and no or lower than low costs. That allowed them to add whatever touch of creativity that they chose to impart to the products that they produced. Re-Use-Its website resembled fashion photos that one would have expected to see in the Wall Street Journal magazine, Vogue, Essence, Sister 2 Sister, Elle or Glamour. Pieces that sold for $1,000s in those magazines were appropriated and sold from $29s to $89s at RUI. Commission pieces sold much higher and there were a few brands that ranged from $2,000 to $20,000 or more for commissioned pieces. However, the $10 to $49 range were where sales drove higher profits and popularity for the company. Everyone at RUI was an agent and collaborator. A twenty to fifteen hundred piece collection with a colorful variety from similar or the same styles, along with shoes and other accessories that were similarly priced flew off the shelves for the spring, summer, and back-to-school seasons. That meant that one to three designers or more as a team who sold 175,000 units or more stood to net anywhere from $2,000,000 to $6,000,000 during just one quarter of the fiscal year. That was not bad for a group formerly mislabeled as welfare queens. And all of that was on top of the $10 to $15 hourly wage. That was the conservative side as a few seamsters were starting to bank $20,000 to $60,000 per quarter and were scrambling to train others as the demand was greater than the output; a wonderful problem so long as it was short-lived.

The U.S. SEAL Team Chance learned or had life lessons reinforced regarding Counter Intelligence even from movies and books. The joke use to be if you wanted to hide information from Blacks put it in a book. Now that stereotype had taken on a multicultural angle. According to Chance if you want to hide information from low level information seekers write it above the 9th grade level or do a complete expose on it.
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That way the people who see the truth in it would be hollering against the wind of low level information products, the rainbow of disinterested consumers and low regarded media spin rooms. Lone Survivor was a movie about a SEAL team who was surprised by a goatherd deep in the Afghan mountains. The SEAL team decided that they had to let the goat-herders go after their encounter and the freed men tipped off the SEALs position to the Taliban who killed all but one of the SEALs in an ambush. Lone Survivor and soon to be movie was based on a book with the same title about a Navy SEAL mission in Afghanistan that went bad in 2005. Chance needed not have read that book or seen the movie, twice, to be positioned to make a tough call in that position. He would have gone into default mode and taken it back to the streets. Those goatherders would have either been tied up or most likely dead. They or I would have been the natural instinct as their countrys current and past history towards the White man wouldnt have even slightly favored their survival. Chance could afford to play the what ifs game because he too could be caught up in a situation like that. Thats also why he had to be extra careful out there in the wilderness because one mans wilderness was anothers mans place of work or residence. So far the only combatants that Chance had let live were those who were sure to be killed by their own terrorist buddies once they were determined to have been compromised. And Chance was always careful to leave behind what was an overwhelming amount of evidence that they had been compromised. It was all a part of a slow process for undermining trust within the enemys ranks. A leader or organization can only kill or harshly interrogate only so many snitches or compromised members before even the non-snitchers became paranoid of those who policed the snitches. And overreach was almost a guarantee. It was only a matter of time especially when lots of people needed answers and werent receiving the answers that they needed quickly enough to silence the critics or those watching, monitoring and expecting decisiveness.

Lucky: Graduation Year (1976) The syrup run to Detroit wasnt the only drug experience Chance had learned through Luckys example. When Chance was in middle school he used to ride with his cousin Whitney, Luckys older brother, to Jackson State Prison in Eastern Michigan.
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Whitney talked casually to Chance and the conversation usually covered sports or stories about their Uncle Robert who lived in Chicago. He was the same Uncle Robert who taught Chance to hunt in the woods. When Whitney, Chance and a van full of other family members would go to Chicago to visit, Uncle Robert would always claim to be a killer when he was drunk but wouldnt hurt a flea when drunk or sober. On this occasion all Chance knew was that they were going to visit Lucky. What he hadnt known was that it was also a drug run. He wouldnt come to know that until they suddenly stopped and Whitney got out of his van went to the back and pulled out a big bag. He then tossed it over the big fence on the side of the road. The fence seemed to stretch without an end. Chance would also later estimate the toss to be a pound of weed. From out of nowhere, seemingly, an inmate, who wasnt Lucky, came and grabbed the bag and disappeared just as fast as he appeared. Now how he had accomplished that in an open field was near to amazing to Chance. He would also learn that inmates were much cleverer on the inside of prison than they were on the outside, probably because they didnt want any more trouble that high risk and high reward was sure to bring or at least haunt them as a relentless threat when freed. Whitney then just got back into his van and restarted where he left off with his conversation about the Pistons, Chance remembered. With the delivery now made they then proceeded on to the visitation room where they would see Lucky. That visit and all of the incidents shared and unshared that would come before and after that visit was always followed with the message, I better not even catch you selling any drug or using any hard drug. You hear me? And ones answer had better be alertly responsive with nothing less than respectful eye contact during that ghetto lectures duration. Their do as I say and not as I have done did stick, for Chance had also accompanied Lucky to heroine houses, dens or galleries as the media called them. Chance saw the pain and needles in bony arms and wanted no part of it. But he was well liked in those houses though because he would talk to the addicted people. Chance spoke not in terms of curiosity or disgust but in pure hows it going or whats happening. He had done that mostly because he blamed the government for the drug problems not the users. The users were his brothers and sisters and required the help of no harm.

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People were people and that view remained unchanged until he learned about the Ayatollah Khomeini, the Shah of Iran, the Sandinistas and terrorism in general. He learned that the United States through rogue groups from its government agencies were not the only ones responsible for drugs being in America. But also during that time he mostly received street lessons or life lessons on what not to be. Those lessons turned out to be one of the healthiest and most informed places to start to engage the life long journey of what to be.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN Re-Use-It: Textile Classes (2013) In Bogota, Columbia theres a workshop called Hechizo that was founded by Jorge Lizarazo. There almost seven dozen artisans (seamsters) weave copper wire, nylon thread and plant fibers to make floor rugs and other coverings. They also crochet aluminum threads to make curtains and screens. In all they mix metal with natural and synthetic fibers for commissioned pieces. Chance planned to do the same with maybe hemp, moss, cotton and plant throw a ways from farming. Georgias industries definitely didnt like to rush into experimental plant products. That lack of industrial urgency just meant more products to supplement Re-Use-Its on-line music/fashion video and interactive YouTube like catalogues in the near future. Certainly Chance would have added, you can bet on that. Taylors Journal (2013) It was Mya who told Chance about the Oprah interview. She was a little surprised that Chance hadnt known about it and from her perspective he should have been a little more eager to see his daughters on television. Mya had yet to meet either one of them in person, but that was beside the point. Oprah, thats an high honor. Sometimes he seemed distant and definitely not like normal people. Well he wasnt normal he was rich as heck, she could tell although it wasnt shown through bling. He lived almost normally, except for his garden and house. That had to cost millions. She had typed in the input for his net worth on Google. It cited $59 million for 2012 but that was for his music. She figured that until Forbes accessed his public net worth of music combined with Re-Use-It that his true worth would remain a sheltered figure. Now that surprised her, she hadnt known that he was the owner of Re-Use-It but she had gone there purely because her co-workers had raved about it. Re-Use-It was nice and most of the items looked they cost a lot more to make than what they were priced at. She was impressed. She liked him but he was a mystery and she often didnt get or understand him. She knew from experience how men hated to be questioned, and ducked and dodged when they were questioned; so as usual she let his unnatural reaction to his daughters moment slide.
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Chance was in Colorado at the time when Mya e-mailed him an attachment with the complete video of that Oprah interview. It was clear after being just two minutes into the interview that his daughters were still hacking him and selling or promoting his archived materials. Those two had reneged on their agreement not to hack dad. Those two were about as bad as the snooping Chinese Military. The profiteering and promotional part was cool, but the hacking? That part justified his hacking them back and this was only part of what he found in Taylors Journal: Amber Up Close & Far Away She was cute, round and thick as the boys say, and a complete bull-shitter, as the boys liked. She was also considered a liar because she frequently broke her promises except to boys. But arent holding onto or the breaking of promises a matter of holding onto or the abandonment of strength, grit, grinding and resilience? Being weak or insecure tends to cause us to break promises, while being mentally strong and spiritually secure allows us to keep them. Actually for Amber, as my dad would say, it was more about hypocrisy than lying; with hypocrisy being the vice that widens the gap between our often spoken values. Hypocrisy then is a clear window into our actual private thoughts and social behaviors. Thats not a lie, thats a failure to step up to the plate or when you do step up strike out because of fear. Anyway, security and strength are not effortlessly attained and fear blinds one from seeing the ball of life that needs to be hit hard and landed softly. Its not lying. Its being either strong or weak. Both were the truth during their moment. But that didnt change the view that she was a bull -shitter. Full of excuses, reasons and people to blame, she was actually beaten down by the life of her poor choices made by listening to lying demons. She was weak with an occasional spurt of strength and rich choices, choices which could be easily doused with a simple set back, be it rejection, being it lied too or just the experience of too much plain old haterism. Did she do drugs because she had epilepsy or did she have epilepsy because her mom and dad conceived her during one of their many drugged out states? Was she misdiagnosed? Who knows?

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Some would call her a sex addict. She wasnt. She fucked, opened her legs because she was in pain and being wanted, needed, even used was better than being unwanted and unneeded. She was a mess, more than a little fucked up. She wanted to be an actor and if she could pretend just for a little while not to be too fucked up, she could use her fucked-upness to land a juicy role. Raw talent kept Lindsay Lohan afloat and the doubters and pedestal tippers couldnt take from Lindsay what they hadnt given her. Now if Amber followed her own talent up with pretending to not want to be fucked she would be more wanted and better used and be better able to say along with the rest of her Millenials, Im awesome, so fuck you. She just had to learn to pretend better. She needed to fake being what she wanted to be while improving until she made it and then she would be well on her way to the reality of what was earlier faked. The irony there was being who you really are before others see it as more real than fake. As he continued reading Chance learned that Taylor had met Amber while at the 2011 Detroit Auto Show and kept up with her. One of Taylors Swedish friends fathers was a Foreign Executive for the Detroit Auto Show. His daughter insisted that Taylor annually accompany her on her dads private jet since Taylor knew Michigan so well. Taylors mom was naturally ok with it since the girl was Swedish and came from a respected family. Actually (and Chance didnt know this) the real nice girl was a Rapper worshipping slut and drug user but sharing that information would have meant no overseas trip away from her own mothers and fathers parental surveillance. She really needed a parental away-cation, a break from their caring and parenting. Plus it was only for the weekend because Taylors focus was still on starting her studio in Germany and also at that time her thoughts were on reconnecting with Amber. Amber was a valet at the car show, a temporary job she started in 2008 and was a gig that she had sought and landed for the past five years. Amber had a pleasant mannerism with a no excuse and aggressive style just like most Detroiters in the city where she was born had. Similar to her fathers taste in people that was why Taylor liked her. Amber was 27 and had six children by four different men. Her father was a repressive preacher and when he died she was just 14. She quickly gravitated to the thug life and became an un-pressed slut and lost her virginity at a church function. Her mother was at a loss for reeling in her and her brothers. Amber

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older brothers only wanted to turnout her young friends and werent beyond trading Amber to the female friends brothers in order to do it. Thug life baby, no thank you Taylor would have responded. No wonder Tupac was inspired to create the song Brendas Gotta Baby. Brenda was the other side from Amber. Ambers children werent a domestic burden to Amber as they were being cared for by the States foster care system after the notarized cycle of drugs and multiple incidents of domestic violence caused her to loose custody. The children were a burden though when she would sober up enough and not have the constant distraction of some man between her legs doing his alcoholic best to beat up her beaten pussy, and when she was sober enough to admit to the difference between, as Taylors aunt use to say before she stopped drinking, Shit from sugar and fuckin from fuckin around. Knowing the difference, shed get a menial or temporary job such as at the car show so as to not lose her food stamps. And then after a month or two of working and being legitimately laid off, which was almost a guarantee whether one wanted it or not when working through a temp agency, she would try to con this or that social worker or charity into supporting her newly determined fight for the political and social restoration of her parental rights. The social or charity workers having seen her both sober and high would often fall to the agencys default, social triage. Its well known that ove rworked, underpaid, underfunded and underappreciated frontline workers often have to resort to triage out of necessity from a budget slashing survival. In other words, they bullshitted her right back. Thats why its highly recommended not to bullshit a reluctant or willing bullshitter. Taylor understood that part quite well. That's why she wrote that in social work my dad says that there is an unwritten 60-day rule that rarely surpassed 30 days. Those trying to cleanup usually relapsed somewhere within that time frame. Those who didnt got a second look and usually received genuine help. That was really the genuine being led to the genuine person. There were just too many people who were really trying to do right but who would be fucked over by the system when not properly helped. Taylor also wrote in her journal that it was tough because helping someone who had been helped properly, repeatedly and who struck out three maybe even four times and was now asking for a fifth time at bat; that person was out, werent they? Not always.

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Amber was sort of like the products today that market themselves largely with what they dont have: Gluten free, no trans fats, no calories They do that instead of marketing what they do have, which is often as bad as what they dont have. They try to make dont have sound better than do have. Amber was a dont have whod be much better if she promoted what she does have, like the wit, verbal sharpness and professional friendliness that she displayed at the Car Show. That was what had made me like her in the first place. She was like two people, the one who was trapped by her past and the one who was free from it and stepping hesitantly toward a better but un-promised future. Bullshitters. Amber was a bullshitter who could change although the rules of life states you only get three ups at bat, and often just two, and sometimes even just one chance to knock the ball of the American Nightmare out the park and into a homerun for some semblance of the American Dream. And if the bases are loaded with your children and maybe even a husband, they can run on home too from that effort and feel a lot more comfortable and confident when its their turn to take a few swings from the batters box thats filled with the better choices and options of life. Amber was a bullshitter who could change but who could better see that through the smoke screens of bullshit if not her? It definitely was not the punk ass men who pounded her to ease their own punk as pain who might see the chance for change. Those punks were probably seeking the better woman that they couldnt see that was within her. That was because they were looking through a dirty scope and so was she.

Whew or was it wow that Chance thought after reading that? All of that made him think that if right thoughts and strong words lead to the right act or actions, then the wrong thoughts and weak words must lead to the wrong acts or actions. Yet somehow it wasnt all that simple. Taylor had the right thoughts and words all while being only fifteen years young. Amber didnt and she was twelve years older. Chance felt deep down that Taylor was unlike Amber in many ways but that in the end Amber just might find redemption out do them all in the struggle for the restoration of her own humanity. Chance didnt recall that level of intense, deep thinking when he was 15. Shoot, he never even had real sex until he was 16. Everything before then was just with the clothes on humping, with some young girl pushing his hands away from
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being between her legs. He was then only feeling up blossoming young girls who had half promised their mother that they would keep their skirts down and legs closed. At 15 Chance was just a semi-disciplined, rage filled militant who was more concerned and occupied with police brutality and out right discrimination. Rage was not coherent thinking, for he was neither secure nor strong with his thoughts then. He was weak with anger. He was thinking anger and using anger as a narrow path to social uplift. This child, his child was thinking and doing, while mostly leading her anger and not largely being led by it. Thats what Millenials do they think and do, consider themselves secure and strong, which was much better than being led by anger and insecurity. Chance concluded in thought, Amber needed to led anger from a place of security and not be led by it. Or was that his daughters conclusion? He agreed with and repeated Taylor. Amber was sort of like the products today that market themselves largely with what they dont have: Gl uten free, no trans fats, no calories instead of what they do have, which was often as bad as what they dont have. They make dont have sound better than do have. Amber was a dont have whod be much better if she promoted what she does have, like the wit, verbal sharpness and professional friendliness that she displayed at the Car Show. That was the part of her that Chance, like Taylor, liked and so would others when they came to know that Amber. And there were many Ambers in this world just waiting to be free. And as soon as they stopped waiting and followed through on a life or death plan of escape from their current circumstances they would be free, and probably more so than the rest of us who have better circumstances and reasons to be just as free.

Lucky: Graduation Year (1976) Lucky was out of Jackson State Prison and on probation much sooner than Chance had expected. He had never really known how long Lucky was locked up for and definitely he had not known when he was going to be released. He was sure he had been told but for some reason it hadnt registered other than it was like a very long time. He had actually been released for the past three months before Chance

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had even known he was out, as he didnt often go to Whitney or Lucky they c ame to him. That was the case when Lucky came to the projects in a new Cadillac, new clothes and an even greater cocky attitude that was tempered by cool. It was all a scene right out of a Black exploitation movie, a completely exaggerated portrayal of beaten back gentleman giving a fuck. When Lucky pulled up Chance and his fellow River Park dwellers were hustling one another in a dice game. Only those outside of the hustle condemned it out of ignorance for its fabled violence. A street dice game was one of the places where one could start the morning in a nickel game then graduate to quarters. When winning they could then move to $1 games, and then $10 and $20 games, and end the night with $200 to $300s. And that was in the middle to late 1970s. The big time gamblers made and lost thousands. As usual, Lucky greeted his little cousin with a hard, vicious blow to the chest that sounded off. It was the punk test. Punks cried or flinched and turned away from the assault. A man stood his ground, and was ready and able to return or absorb another blow. Chance was a man but only a constant fool would have returned that blow. The young gamblers were doubly impressed. The project dwellers were even more impressed when Lucky threw a $1,000 bill on the ground and entered the nickel, dime and quarter dice game. After a few hours Lucky was losing. Several young hustlers were a $1 or $2s into Luckys $1,000 bill. Lucky was furious for he hated losing and the more he cursed and tried to intimidate the more nickels and dimes he lost and the less fear they had of him. Finally, he was ready to go but no one could collect their winnings because no one had change for that $1,000 bill so the winners lost too. Lucky pulled Chance over to the side and shared his real reason for being there. He opened his check book and with his finger he pointed to a series of recent deposits. Whaaap, he bragged as he pointed to a $7,500 deposit. Whaaap, for a $10,000 deposit. Whaaap, whaaap, whaaap, for a series of $5,000 deposits. Chances eyes were huge with the grandeur of delight because he had never seen a $1,000 bill before let alone bank deposits like those. It was actually hard to absorb and calculate with Lucky moving through the deposits so fast.
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Luckys sister Vernita was alive and well then and she had opened a $100 college checking account for Chance. It was his first life lesson in daily finances. Luckys financial lesson, though, was pure capitalism. Unfortunately, it was parasitic or vulture capitalism as Chance would learn later. Chance would come to favor a more symbiotic, shared and uplifting type of capitalism that Vernita practiced as a matter of faith.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN Lucky: Graduation Year (1976) As mentioned earlier the intersection of Saginaw St. and Pierson Road was a busy one, especially Saginaw St. It cut through the heart of the Northside of Flint and was not far from Dewey Park. Dewey Park was famous because it was where Magic Johnson balled one day in a pickup game during the summer of the same year that he had accepted Michigan State Universitys offer to take his talents there. Hundreds of people watched those games while thousands of people missed it for not being able to see past the hundreds who were already crowded around the basketball court. In person dunks were rarely seen as the only person flying through the air with an afro was Dr. J, Julius Irving. And then came Magic. It had been about a month since the dice game and as far as Chance was concerned Lucky still owed him $1.25. He was almost certain to never ask for it, though, while he was driving Luckys brand new Seville with the tire in the back. At his home Lucky had thrown Chance the keys and instructed him not to return for a couple of hours, as he ducked into the bedroom where his life-long girlfriend was waiting. That also explained the pre-smile of Luckys face as he tossed the keys into the air. Chance wouldnt find Joan for neither she nor or her family was at her home. There were no cell phones back then, just rotary dialed landlines, although the press button digital phones were slowly starting to faze them out. Unable to locate her, he wouldnt be able to impress Joan on that day and she would be upset that she missed out on that attempted impression. So Chance just visited relatives and made sure he was seen around town, trying to lean while driving that Seville. He was having problems leaning because he was adverse to imitating gangsters, especially the ones that could be found in Black Exploitation films. Still he watched and cheered for those films anti-heroes, especially Pam Grier as Foxxy Brown, who was an anti-anti-hero. Chance was taking his time getting Lucky his car back. Lucky was probably sleep anyway. Lucky would often nod when doing syrup. It was called a nod because it was neither an actual sleep nor a fully awake state.
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Like most cons and ex-cons Lucky was a real good chess player and would nod when he and Chance played. Luckys girlfriend was usually braiding Luckys hair while they played. Chance had never beaten Lucky at chess. He had gotten close a few times but had never check mated him although he had forced a draw once. The chess games were long as Lucky would nod after he made a move or two. Chance soon learned that Luckys nod offered little to no leverage. After Chance moved he often waited 5 to 10-minutes for Lucky to come out of his nod, which was often helped by his girlfriend who jerked his head as she braided it. She had done it mostly to relieve Chances boredom from watching or hearing her soap opera, As The World Turns, during the wait. Coming out of the nod, Lucky would immediately recover his senses and would make a move that almost always put Chance on the defensive end of the match. A nod or two later and Chance would be checkmated and instructed to reset the board for another game and have to wait on the course of the nod to play out before the winner made the first move. Move was not something Chance was able to do as he began to cross the intersection of Saginaw Street and Pierson Road. Out of nowhere, about ten cars in total came from all four directions, surrounded the Seville with guns drawn and emptied into the intersection over thirty men. Thats not him, one of the gun men with bad intentions shouted. And just like that they climbed back into their cars and all drove off. They were Detroiters. People from Flint knew when a person or people were from Detroit. Flint had a raw, take no prisoners attitude. Detroit was that attitude on steroids and 5-hour Energy after a few cups of extra strong coffee. That near death experience with Chance almost being bullet ridden like Bonnie and Clyde was how he learned that Lucky was a hit man and that a hit was now out on him. Drug dealer and gambler was Luckys second occupation. Hit man was his main occupation. Most of Luckys contract hits were on Detroiters with one rival black market element trying to reduce the ranks of the competition. Lucky was only loyal to his family and if you werent a civilian then he considered you a soldier. And therefore the rules of war applied.

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About a month later, in a dispute about a rake that Luckys and his girlfriends children were arguing over with the neighboring kids, Luckys neighbor shot him in the back with a shotgun and killed him in front of both of their sets of children. Whaaap. Chance and his family loved Lucky but all hit men and other dangerous Billy the Kid like characters usually die in the same way, at the hands of a coward and in a cowardly fashion. Whaaap.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN Chance: A Domestic Terrorist (1980s to Present: The Age of Greed) Ok. Chance was not only an international terrorist he was also a domestic terrorist. During the mid-1980s he once stole $20 million from an un-convicted drug dealer and domestic human traffickers (pimp) investment accounts. The anti-social creeps accounts were with both Morgan Stanley and JP Morgan. Chance sent the stolen money to ten different charities in equally divided proportions. The FBI had been monitoring the drug dealer as he was one of their informants, which was also a strange part of the reason why he was un-convicted. They were less concerned with the trafficking aspects of his illicit enterprise. So in doing their jobs, the FBI made the charities return the anonymously donated money after the drug dealer cried and other wise made noise to them about that loss. That was after they interviewed the charitys officials and cleared them all of having any involvement. Needless to say, some of the money came up missing anyway. The drug dealer in turn thought that the FBI was playing games with him because they wouldnt or couldnt provide him with the name of the charity thief or locate the $5 million that was missing. He wanted badly to send the idiot who stole from him a lesson. That was when FORTRAN and dBase were corporations most widely used programming languages. Back then servers took up entire floors and hackers had to actually gain access into the buildings where the servers were in order to illegally retrieve data. The Internet was in its infancy and was known to exist mostly by military and civilian contract programmers along with the other former technology geeks of theirs. Another way to gain access was through a financial institutions field office and that was the risky method Chance had used. But whats a little breaking and entry when you were legally classified as a domestic terrorist? The FBI re-routed another truth and told the dealer that it was Anonymous (who were just called rogue hackers then) who stole it. The FBI was hoping that the dealer might reach out to the loose group of hackers and poke more holes into their secret and growing network. But even with all of his money t he dealer wasnt able to reach Anonymous as he was a poor relationship builder. He had to actually kill two hackers with ties to Anonymous. He had hired them as contractors and they too ripped him off. And to make matters worse a third hacker got away Scott free with three million.
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The F.B.I. knew that the dealer informant was more of a street fool than the legitimate business-man that he weakly propped himself up as being by owning a string of poorly run restaurants and car washes. He also owned a few real estate properties and clubs here and there. The F.B.I. was seriously considering cutting ties with him. After all he had been openly compromised and his money and assets were tied to cooperative financial institutions. They knew that they could through a court order freeze and access his accounts whenever they desired to do so. They were also about ready to sever their loose ties to him since the I.R.S. was re-interested in taxing him. The I.R.S. would tax him through the court backed processes of fines and seizures based solely on his suspicious deposits, deposits that couldnt pass even a basic audit. The only delay was that the F.B.I. was hoping to track the original thief, which was Chance. That was in the 1980s before Chance had a quantum computer and really relied heavily on the capabilities of the supercomputers of that time. Of course his was a super duper computer that didnt rely on the software of IBM who was the king of that computer era before Microsofts gangsta rise. But to make matters worse, both Morgan Stanley and J.P. Morgan main offices wanted answers about their field offices being compromised and were growing concerned about the dealers hacked accounts. They werent questioning the F.B.I.s motives they just didnt want any fallout out to fall their way, which it would if Chance or the rogue hackers (who would become Anonymous) had anything to do with it.

That was in the 1980s and 1990s. Chance had since then completely updated his domestic terrorism techniques to be more proactively in line with corporate and government planned and executed overreach. He could now spot a Tom Sword a mile away. Corporations founded by former Secret Service officers were and have always been in the domestic espionage business. Only now the people they spied on were animal and environmental activists. This all was especially true after 9/11 when monitoring and protesting against corporate and government actions meant activism that was sure to grow into terrorism, according to the intelligence experts. Just like the intelligence experts Chance stole thousands of documents, trespassed, intercepted phone call records and conducted unlawful surveillance.
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And in the case of the U.S. Marshalls he monitored them often with the latest version of one of their lost phones. He compared the phone data to their strategy memos, donor lists, detailed and company approved financial statements, social security numbers of their staff members along with various other trade secrets. With that illicit collection, Chance produced intelligence reports which underlined the illegal surveillance ambitions and acts of public relations firms (which Chance called retaliation firms) and major corporations. He would then email them on a standard computer from an ex-FBI or some other semi-retired intelligence police persons home. Again, whats a little breaking and entry when you were sure to be tortured or killed if caught for being a domestic terrorist anyhow? The e-mails would then be CCd to board members or other stakeholders, newspapers and Newsletter writers who would later be bloggers. E-mails were also sent that corporations rivals and government officials from both sides of the political aisles. The intent from Chance was to put a scare in the corporate and governments guilty parties that were identical to the scare placed on the eco friendly groups who often had more than a few rogue supporters. Chance was in essence being side-tracked and doing the work that Anonymous, who was always on the run, would be doing if they werent so busy seeking to be masters of on-line video games. They were supposed to protect the public but Anonymous came up real short in that area and that corresponded with their puny cache of both public and private support. Now they were doing some public relations rebuilding by casting a net on a series of highly publicized and high-profiled rape cover-up attempts. Song artists were sort of like Anonymous. Hip Hop artists and Rappers stayed on the sidelines and ran to the second string when they were starters. Those artists pretended not to be smart enough or rich enough to hire the political strategists who were more than able enough to put many counter black-op and surveillance rules into play. Now that would be a real Rap Battle, or performance art and definitely much better than being blas about private corporations. The current and ex-street Gangstas and moderates pretended like Donald Trump, Henry Rumsfeld, Newt Gingrich and the Cheneys of the world were formidable foes. Their playbooks were as old as dirt and the rules to counter them even older. Those master minds of social disaster for corporate gain (Chance knew that also sounded like some Rappers) were nothing more than the former bullied lunch room kid who focused on academics to prevent boredom because a trip outside meant that they would get their arse kicked and their pocket money stolen.
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Those moderate Gangstas were well-connected punks. So when a group or groups cant outwit or out maneuver un-clever crooks like Donald Trump or former mayor Bloomberg, what did that make them? Chance would answer weak and ten times worse than what Lamar Kendricks tapped in his cultural roast and rant filled song Control. Control, you were either against it or for it. There were no fence sitters for that one or any lyrics, yet. The hard hitters they all played it safe. They beat down the poor and others. White rich, Black rich, Indian rich and Asian rich it was all the same while laying claim to a difference. They were the former bullied or bully who was left untreated but who now had the money to play out their psychosis which Dave Chapelle described very well at the end of each his comedy shows: Im rich bitch! And I thank you. Somebody had to do it. That was why Chance embraced and now enjoyed being an international and domestic terrorist. On the other hand, the strongest men and women in Hip Hop and Rap had redirected themselves to the lowest risk. That low risk was the occasional socially uplifting message that came without appearing too over the top, passionate or political. Others and sometimes the same messenger revealed deceptions, while others just resorted to being a plain hard street conscious philosopher. Regardless, they all pretty much laid claim to being lyrical assassins but it wasnt against surveillance assassins. Hmmm? Hmmm nothing. That meant that Chance was seriously limited in his choice for recruits. Chance couldnt confidently trust the Black or White man or woman, Native Americans, Indians, Asians or even Aborigines. And he miscalculated because in hindsight he should have built a pipeline for recruits. Plus Chance was also an untreated victim of bullying. So how sick was Chance? Probably about as sick as Sigmund Freud was when he dished out false cures for ailments that mostly affected and described his own personal mental miseries and delusions. Thank God for the new blood and fresh faces. The ones whose eyes only read about bullies or who mentally recorded their acts from a safe distance. But where would the needed retaliation in a parallel system or cultures and enterprise come from? Hip Hop and Rap and their Millenial allies had the foundation from which to leap over the other tall building of false hope. But did they know it? That leap was high risk and high reward. To resist control in a non-smart, and politically poor played way was to be publicly branded a domestic terrorist, which meant to be reduced even further from the starting point. But there wasnt a
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brand for the smart way yet. If there was such a brand it would just mostly go under the radar as nothing more than a positive result that benefitted many. And by the time they investigated that success it would be too late to stop the boulder and Lernaean Hydra of change from rolling and gathering even more momentum. There was no way around it, the local police and the Intelligence Police were many of todays corporations hired security. We too must hire them to help us combat their former colleagues. Not all of them signed up for forced unrest and domestic imperialism. Chance intended to handoff the baton for the challenges of building a pipeline and countering forced unrest. In the meantime, he planned to stay hungry and to work ceaselessly until he retired. He planned to disrupt the entire domestic surveillance strategy through fraud and disrupt al-Qaeda with mostly bullets and bombs. Because he believed that good behavior didnt protect anyone from bad behavior. In other words, Chance still refused to be bullied.

Chance Was Never Poor (1980s to Present: The Age of Greed) Chance never knew how much he would be paid for a contract or for a free-lanced job. The Unknown Committee recruiting and training system that he was groomed into was setup for money to be a low incentive. However he was paid a healthy $7.5 million for the Intelligence Information that he supplied about Osama Bin Laden and he hadnt even personally killed him. He also paid taxes on every penny even money that he had in off shore accounts. He didnt take advantage of tax shelters or provide a doorway for any IRS hanky-panky should he meet with an untimely death and some of his unreported funds were unearthed. He hated corporate fraud, both legal and illegal, and would rather not ever have to deal with any financial hypocrisy model being attributed to him. He was proactive on the matter so thats why he paid more than he had to legally. He also listed all of the tax right offs that he didnt take in a private ledger that he aimed to publish one day in protest of the current tax system. Being captured alive by the government wasnt an option but being killed by the government that was an open matter. He paid taxes because he believed one
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didnt earn the right to criticize government unless they contributed their fair share to it. No Chance never struggled he always thrived. He was thriving now and had a long list of people whom he would overtime come to thank by doing even more than he was now doing. The Head Hunter (The 1980s: The Age of Greed) Chance was lead out from his Counter Intelligence training site almost in the same way that he had been lead to it. Only this time he was blind folded, put into a helicopter and then driven to a motel in Flint. The room was pre-paid and on the dresser was an envelope with a set of keys next to it. The envelope contained cash in the amount of $50K. The keys were to a modest house near Mott College and to a silver and black striped Buick Centurion that was parked right below his hotel room. There was also a passport, three credit cards and the latest 1980s Sprint cell phone. There were times that when the Unknown Committee seemed to know almost everything about him irritated Chance. This was not one of those times though as his grin spread into a smile as he went down the hotel stairs like a free spirited teen intent on going to crank up and drive the car of his teen years. But there was a slight interruption before that ride would take place. They were back, the Unknown Recruiters. Once he got down the stairs they were waiting for him in the parking lot. After his 3.5 years of training were over, Chance was allowed to go home. As a part of the debriefing process the Unknown Recruiters had a list of profiles for potential targets that an agent such as Chance could select from. All the information contained in the profile then had to be memorized. After a selected target had been made all documentation related to that particular profile would then be destroyed. That was then, now everything was done electronically. As usual the man didnt speak but the lady had amongst other things urged Chance to sign onto his first assignment when he was ready. He had taken all that she had said into account but what Chance was ready to do was to try and patch things up with Joan. He hadnt been allowed to contact her or his family during the entire time that he was in training. And he was intent on not leaving until he got his personal affairs in order.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN Chance Was Never Poor (1980s to Present: The Age of Greed) RUI had turned into a $240 million company in just under seven years. Chances use of social media and smart investments were as simple as teaming up with or rather following Tom Joyner around. Advertising RUI through America Black Web and The Tom Joyner Foundation Fantastic Voyage Cruise were among Chances earliest marketing investments. For the first three years he hadnt even bothered to weigh the losses or gains from those investments but in hindsight there was steady growth. Actually there was overgrowth when the placed orders started to frequently exceed the supply. That was pretty much the extent of struggle at RUI then and nowadays. Chance didnt really have a struggle story. He grew up in the projects but he was never poor. Steak, salmon, bass and trout combined with spaghetti dinners were all he ever really knew. His mom provided for every holiday and then some. The rest he had hustled for. The people who ate ketchup sandwiches were other people. And those other people were often invited to dinner at either his moms or grandmothers home for a meal or two or three. They werent judge. Shoot most of the poor girls were cute and their brothers were cool. Cute and cool mattered a lot more than it did not. Chance was never the poor person that had been socially assigned to him. It was a faulty assignment which many of his neighbors too defied. He and his friends ate salmon and caught them without a net when the fish were trapped in the catch basin at the bottom of the Mott dam. They trapped the fish in the knee deep water right near where no fishing signs were posted around the catch basins of the dam that was 5-miles North of the projects. At times they had salmon that were so big that it took two and sometimes three or more adolescents to carry them to Crazy Joes home. Once there his mother would start the fish fry that would last late into the evening. Pike, trout, sturgeon and bass were expected gifts of God when living in Chances vision of life in the projects. Many middleclass families, even today, wished they ate as well and as often. And in his spare time he grew a garden for his grandmother in his backyard which no one ever stole from. Chance was never poor. He had earned money early on from gambling, then from tutoring. From there he graduated to the higher income of White-mailing crooked cops and Blackmailing Crack Dealers, both of whom he detested equally. That move amounted to thousands of dollars which he used to kick off his Soul
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Rap career. That career lead to millions and even more millions came after he had been recruited by the Unknown Committee for both freelance and contract killings. Now he was reaping the benefits of all the planning and investments which was RUI and its people.

Chance really found women who were delivered from the mold of Grace Jones and Macy Gray extremely sexy. What made their sexiness extend to a level above the average sexy woman was their spiritual depth and intelligence or more to the point the quality of their spoken words. Those words were a result of the perfected and purposely connected thoughts chilling in their minds. It was proof of the Soul in their hearts and that was sexy as Heaven. Women like that wrote the re-writes for the playbook on Steve Harveys Think Like a Man, Act Like a Lady. More importantly they embraced the male dominion that was the undercurrent of a mans thinking and feminized it until it was a part of their own. They could say the same word as another woman but their words would have more meaning to a securely confident man and be felt in his Soul as an attraction of respect for the strongest human bond, friendship. The actress Olivia Wilde was like that. So were the singer Janelle Mone, the comedian Aisha Tyler and the entrepreneur Sophia Amoruso. That list was only a brief of an ever growing and expanding population of beauty capped by a creative intelligence. Oddly enough, Joan wasnt like that. She was just the opposite. She was mostly ghetto and part-time intelligent like Chance. But there were more than a few people who werent mostly ghetto right? Opposites attracted mostly in Chances case because he knew that a relationship with a strong willed woman wouldnt work. A strong willed woman too frequently offered advice and when it was not enthusiastically or reluctantly accepted she was almost certain to be offended. And when offended she would step to the sideline and hope by waiting to see if the offender would stumble and fall. Stumbling and falling in all that was what one got for not listening to her. Thats what their butts deserved. So to avoid that messy nonsense, Chance just made sure those types of women were friends; which was the most important type of relationship in the first place. Actually, he tried to make sure that most women were no more than friends because he liked living alone and found compromise to be a lowering of ones personal standards and lead to consensus building. And consensus building was one of the fastest routes to finding people on the sidelines hoping by waiting to see
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if the people who didnt listen to them, which meant adhered to their wise advice, faltered. It gave new meaning to the position I can do badly by myself. And even the lovely Joan would do little to change those faulty sentiments.

Joan had changed. She had become a LPN and part-time writer who was mostly doing freelance work for the style section in Essence magazine. She had taken the money from both jobs to self-publish a series of apolitical romance novels. Her personal sense of style had changed too. She had become an Indie Arie type dresser before Indie Arie was even born. Joan was still beautiful. She was surprisingly single and their locked-in eyes. They both new what that meant or hoped it meant. The undercurrent was strong. But Joan wasnt the type who would just jump back into sex with anyone without some type of meaningful reconnection. Chance knew that. He knew a lot more than she would ever know or openly admit. Thats why he took her to Red Lobster. You remembered, Joan said as Chance pulled into the parking lot of her favorite restaurant. She also had told him that she wasnt even going to ask how he found another car like the one he use to have in high school, which really wasnt that long ago. When it comes to you I never forget, was the charm that Chance shared as he got out of the car with a smile and opened her door. They had talked the entire time on the way to their meal. Joan was 21 then and Chance was 23. They had both promised early on in their teen love not to ever marry another person should they not marry one another. This was a few decades before Chance would learn about the two abortions and years before Trudy and Taylors, and Joans own daughters birth. Joan was 52 and had a body that came from the Pam Grier mold. Joan was often called pretty as a teen and wore a well groomed Afro. Her hair was permed now but Chance didnt know that for she wore a blue scarf wrapped around her hair. The scarf matched her dress and her blue sandals. She still dressed cute, Chance thought upon first seeing and then hugging her. Joan seemed a little disappointed when Chance told her that he was going to be a Rapper. But she changed the subject on a high note by saying, At least they will know what youre saying.
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Joan didnt like Rap during its earliest stages and wouldnt come to like it until Run DMC, Whodini, Will Smith, L.L. Cool J and others would come along and start to Rap with a wider usage of mainstream English. Chance hadnt liked the early hard to decipher Rap either but he still was one of the few from his generation that invested in its potential early on. The potential was a musical format that presented an underground challenge to the established music industry. The music industry was about as corrupt as an industry could be back then but Chance knew then that corruption always evolved as was evident in the sameness of much of the Rap music of today. So it was probably just as corrupt now, too. But to talk about matters such as that with Joan would only garner a side-eyed look of boredom. They did a lot of small talking about other matters instead but somewhere during that small talk and their meal Joan had almost casually mentioned the Head Hunter. That was understandable as she didnt want to pollute the romantic air between them with an unpleasant social reality such as the police whom she knew Chance didnt trust. Plus she wanted to avoid having him rant. Joan preferred the soft and needing look he had in his eyes for her then.

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Math and Financial Crisis Requirements (2013 to Present)

To the wrong authority: See the Peoples Bailout punks.

Chances Black Panther rising insights into the STEM and financial crisis would appeal neither to the hosts of MSNBCs or Foxs news cycle talk shows. His take was totally different than that of the Associated Press. He listened to all of them, weighed the sides and speculated on the interests behind the views. Then he would look at the past motives of the players in the current games and attributed their past and current crimes to a pattern that fed his current speculations. He found the intellectual interaction of engineers and mathematicians to be built from a false narrative, a fake but positive stereotype. Most people in the world didnt need much math. The only people who needed math beyond the basics were the few people who benefitted from the discipline. Why do something that youre never going to benefit from and dont want to benefit from? STEM was nothing more than the medical and technology corporations push to undercut the pay of engineers and scientists everywhere. They wanted to flood the market with both immigrant and native talent, lower the salaries and kill all of the uncontrolled challenges of creation through acquisition. You make it and they gobble it up or outright take it. Innovation was market driven and unless it was birthed in the Black Market of garages, unless it was birthed by children tinkering in their parents living room or a small company taking a chance on a whiz kid STEM was doomed to the nonbenefits of corporate and hedge funded absorptions. As far as Chance was concerned, there was a high probability that the Power of 4 was even behind that particular corporate push because the control of technology fit comfortably within their directed interests. Chance told whoever would listen that they could listen to Neil Degrasse Tyson and all the nice sounding and smart people that they wanted too, but if we dont want to see anymore game changers like Steve Jobs or Bill Gates for about the next twenty years or so, like when IBM and Kodak was king, keep the STEM corporate and factory push going. He was sure that there was a hand full of shareholders who would appreciate such as push. The real shareholders were the consumers. The current shareholders were fake interests called stake holders. Stake because thats what they drove through the hearts of the creative and innovative. Right now they were just paying them
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off until they could wrest control completely away until STEM was something that looked like the candy corporate structure in America. It was a structure where three companies had a whole bunch of subsidiary names but it was really a monopoly for candy manufacturing that was not called a monopoly. On the same hand, public corporations were loosely regulated with the threat of tight enforcement while private ones (threatened by light enforcement) violated, closed shop and reappeared as a something else Group or Fund that was now bigger and badder with a lot more front loaded reputations to protect from the backend of current or past criminality. They were only transparent in that their misdeeds were always well documented after the facts were mislaid and fell into the hands of some whistleblowing like investigative reporting which really came off the sidelines. The most effective lie to date was that there was shared prosperity in the 1980s and 1990s. No there wasnt. Those years were when the declines went into full effect and the shift in wealth pivoted even more to them, the 1%. The financial crisis during those decades was just like the Great Recession of the Bush years. Only they said it was a false equivalency although the majority of losers were the same across the board. And although no economist would totally agree with Chance or be expected too, including the Black Enterprises Board of Economist, Chance would switch to Insubordinate and wax freestyle on their arse in this intended to be rude way: The money changers needed their money tables turned over again They were steal cheating through Banks of America and corporate thuggin Robert Reich was the most gangsta economist out there bar none Start acting on his YouTubed words and build your own freer markets son Even Frankenstein tried at first to be a decent human being. Frankies creator was a madman right from the start. The financial mess was created by policy. Ever since the Founding Fathers failed to corral the dudes who were released from the British and other European prisons and boated to America with plans to disrupt by hook or crook, those similar policies still flourish today as the Wild Wild West Wall Street style. Now their offspring still wave the confederate flag of defeat and cant understand why formerly suppressed people wont just bow down to the improved Millennial style of cultural and financial oppression thats derived from an old
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playbook. Regardless, once again Frankie will be burned and the peasantry will return back to the free market field of dreams and be satisfied only because they werent radical enough to publicly admit that the wrong monster had been destroyed. Now that he was wide open on the subject of human monsters, Chance would have strongly suggested that the wrong authority See the Peoples Bailout. Of course he would have ended that suggestion with punks. He couldnt help it and he wasnt trying.

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Asian Sistahs & Anti-Snitching (1990s: The Age of New Jack City) Chance had performed over 4, 270 concerts between 1990 and 2012. Some music columnists called them theatrical and solo concerts because he was the headliner and producer but that was misleading. He had background singers who sometime performed their own unrecorded materials and turned the place out. There were guest artists who had done the same and both would be flooded with Demo requests of their new or unheard songs after the concert. Then there were the performance artists who were inspired by his work and performed their inspirations so that Chance could locate them on YouTube or Pinterest and have them also perform live at the concerts. There was room for everyone with funk because that was what funk was all about, peace and love. See Sly & the Family Stone baby. And few things produced more peace and love than inclusion and acceptance. At Chances funkcerts, thats what his concerts should have been called for there was certain to be the sing-along magnetism of a church call and response. That happened because the songs sounded just as good live as their studio recordings. Clarity and clear audio with Jill Scott like word pronunciation was always the goal. There was plenty of slang but it was unforced and belonged in the context from where which it was submitted. The words were sung and heard while spoken in a sing-song way, a funky fun way and channeled the spirit of Parliament. Again the contents of the words strove for the positive precision of Patrice Rushen, Earth Wind & Fire and the like. For the words to be heard for their quality, the audio needed to be precise and undistorted. For a theater quality sound anywhere they went, his crew would erect acoustic walls; bathroom tiles worked best. They were pre-fabed sectional walls with inserts that took less than 25-minutes per wall to setup. It was like erecting an amphitheater because performance was art and needed to be heard clearly. There were small gaps in the walls so that some sound could escape and not be overbearing or with an echoing or other distorted effect. It was seamless, loud and crystal clear. It was early in his career that Chance managed to churn out 3 self-released EPs in that way.

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That all allowed him to select spots that werent ideal or optimal for a concert (such as a stadium or sports arena) and re-imagine them as a spot for an ideal experience. When he performed he wanted you to hear that he had combined or overlaid Dr. Dre, Tina Turner, Jean Luc Ponty and the Beatles all into one song; with an alternative music interlude interspersed throughout. It was all a part of FARKing and FARKing was really four or five songs and styles combined into one. The songs and styles were designed not to overwhelm but to push the senses and ones sense of style above its usual limit. But during somewhere around the time of his 100th concert Chance, as Insubordinate, had spoken out about snitching. He spoke out when it was a hot controversy. Because it was hot, meaning it mattered a lot on the streets, he was attacked and in a violent way. The attack was repelled though, not by Chance (Insubordinate) but by the Asian Sistahs.

Insubordinate hadnt known that he had personal protection until the mid -1990s. He was a polished Rapper who was sharpened by underground or street steel and had just started to get radio airplay. The radio station WOWE 98.9 (FM) in Flint had even played one of his jams and WOWE was an oldies but goodies radio station. Insubordinates music right from the start had an old school feel with a new school appeal. He was a crossover Rapper because back then few people could even understand what most Rappers were saying even after listening intensively to their angry or speedy blurred words. It turned out that Insubordinates attackers were a young up and coming crew of Thug Life Rappers who didnt possess the art of Anger and Deflection that Tupac once possessed and that Ice Cube harnessed and built a career from. It also turned out that they had been leaving for quite some time threatening comments and anti-snitching tirades through hastily produced demos and mixed tapes. That was done along with rants from the stage during their underground concerts and Rap Battles. Leading up to the physical urban attack, Insubordinate possessed a rather divisive view when it came to snitches and snitching. To Insubordinate there were two basic levels of snitching. A Level One Snitch was when two or more criminals were linked to a crime and one or more of the criminals turned states evidence when some or all of them
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were caught. Such a person was a pariah, they were prosecutorial prostitutes and karma would have them tossed into a cell with a sexual sadist. Their reduced sentence for unmanly cooperation with the prosecution should more often than not be rewarded with a reduced possibility of living a pain free life. No such reward should be handed to a Level Two Snitch, though. Not just because a Level Two Snitch was what Chance or Insubordinate was when he was a Soul Rapper but also because it was level with his ground rules for keeping the community safe. When a Level Two Snitch saw someone robbing a neighbors home, snatching a purse, carjacking or spraying a crowd of nosey but innocent bystanders with bullets Insubordinate said from the concert stage and in his lyrics that he would gladly tell on the guilty in those circumstances. And furthermore if others were afraid to tell then they should tell him and he would tell and not tell on whoever told him. Insubordinate was pissed but so were the anti-snitching campaigners. Now this was during the time of Crack, AIDs and a continued legacy of inner city police abuse. It was also when Gangsta Rap careers were built around lyrics about when they put a doughnut sized hole in the brain of even the casual snitch let alone a prosecutorial prostitute. Times were hard then for a snitch. Insubordinate had reasoned that if a Thug Punk tried to kill him because of their own warped mind and twisted ghetto tales, which had nothing to do with making the community stronger and safer; well then in that case he would pray beforehand that all of their anti-community action plans went to hell along with them. That was his prayer. The last part angered a bunch of preachers, the middle part about the levels of snitches angered a bunch of television activists, and the whole concept enraged millions of short fused Thugs and their small minded followers. Then in a tempered version of that rage Insubordinate was street tested with a bunch of What ifs during his social encounters with critics. What if you see someone shoplifting, would you tell then? Thats between them and the stores security cameras. What if you see someone on the corner selling dope? Sell all the hard loss of hope dope that you want and dodge the police and that 20-year sentence for as long as you are desperate. But if I catch you selling to
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children, or hooking a woman with small children I will probably beat or shoot you myself. If not its because Im pretending to be passive and dialing 911. What if someone is robbing? Stop right there. If you are robbing anyone other than another robber or dope dealer, Im dialing 911. Believe that. Insubordinate went on to explain that no one could make him tell anything on anyone unless he wanted to tell. He had ground rules and they should have some too. He had shared his ground rules and they were all more than welcome to share theirs also. That snitching controversy was meant to be a weight around Insubordinates neck and then drown him in the court of public opinion. The beauty of the Rap game was that there was room for just about everyone. Still Insubordinate was researched and seriously investigated by Rap and Hip Hop fans as a result of his position. That meant that his music and lyrics were studied and dissected and were judged to be mostly street worthy and mainstream ready. The fact that the controversy was pushed into the media archives of until further notice and since his music sales had quadrupled during the fiscal quarter of that controversy, all of those combinations solidified Insubordinates position. Insubordinates Rap success was the result of the product that could not be manufactured, respect. But haters hate respect and the more respect Insubordinate received the more respect that the Haters hated. Theres no doubt that they were just as determined to kill Insubordinate as the Asian Sistahs were to protect him. He would meet both at his second most favorite place a concert. A bookstore was his most favorite place.

As mentioned earlier Insubordinates attackers were a group of impulsive and ready to act Thugs. Those Thugs were like the runoff water from farmlands and lawns; they were fertilized with reasons to poison others with hate. And just like when runoff water joined a river, lake or ocean a nitrogen based algae bloom would grow and the bloom was there to distort, suffocate and kill everything that would keep the rest of natures system healthy and vibrant. The specific system of nature that some Thugs distorted, suffocated and ultimately killed was the Hood. To keep warped thinking hot the worse the Hood was the more hypo-respect that particular Hood got amongst other Thugs and
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observers. It was a backward growth that was fed by both good and bad people. Killing Insubordinate would also help them to grow. But evidently the bad people had paid no attention to Insubordinates prayer for any active anti-community spirit or plan. In a concerted effort, the Thugs put an entirely new twist on the strategy used to murder Malcolm X. While Insubordinate was in the middle of a groove during one of his concert songs someone cut the sound off and another person raised the lights to shine brightly on the stage. Two boy looking men exposed themselves from the crowd by shooting a short burst from one of the Uzis into the air. The crowd panicked and stampeded to the exits as the submachine gun sounded. Insubordi-snitch! One of the boy men shouted after they both pointed their Uzis at Insubordinate, This is for being a snitch bitch. Before that point and time they werent known to Insubordinate as the Asian Sistahs. As a matter of fact the two Asian women werent known to Insubordinate at all. While Insubordinate should have been panicked and scrambling for cover like the other members on the stage, Insubordinate was instead looking at the Asian woman. She was running or more like floating through the crowd and towards the guy who had shouted the threats. She introduced herself to him and Insubordinate by chopping off the boy mans shooting arm at the elbow with a sword and then doing a smooth 180 spin back into him with a finishing stab with a knife from the other hand. The other woman was much more efficient as she just chopped off the other shooters head and then began looking slowly around for any other attackers. As the crowd was running away and screaming Insubordinate and the two ladies stared at one another for a moment or two. The ladies look spoke be careful. Insubordinate was shocked and also grateful that his own abilities for selfdefense werent exposed. He had on a bullet proof Graphene vest that looked like a t-shirt and several weapons were stashed nearby. Had he not seen the two ladies with flowing black hair and the most beautiful and bluest blue and blended orange combination in their oriental dress he would have been totally committed to countering the Thugs sloppy offensive. A lot of blood was pooling near where the bodies laid and the ladies stood. Their look had said be careful but they never said bye or any other word as they
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blended into the panic of the stormy crowd which was the thick movement of people. Insubordinate hadnt considered why but thought, My guardian angels are Asian Sistahs.

The attempted murder of Insubordinate had taken place when Windows 95 was hot and years before MySpace was born. Had the event occurred during the era of iPhones the entire episode would have been posted to YouTube and would have gone viral. Instead a few camera phones had captured fuzzy and dark pictures of one of the Asian Sistahs but even the police labs couldnt make heads of tails out of the pictures. There was a very good picture of the beheaded Thug and his gun though. That photo appeared on the cover of Vibe with the space where the head belonged blotted out with a gray blob as the image. That image appeared with an article that had the words unconfirmed reports strung throughout it. Vibe pieced together a profile of Insubordinate that squashed any notion that it was a gang related hit or miss-hit in that case. The journalistic piece pointed out Insubordinates argument that if your activities were tearing down the Hood then that person should be told on or in some other lawful way stopped. Vibes position was that it wasnt snitching it was community involvement, something that everyone had on obligation to do. Vibe was also surprised at how prolific and low key Insubordinate was but that changed rapidly over the next several years. Amongst the many other requests, Insubordinate was interviewed and featured on the cover with the caption: Old Skool Rapper Takes New Skool to School. Street cred, rumor mill Ninja assassins as bodyguards and Vibe all boosted Insubordinates status in the minds of Hip Hop lovers and in the hearts of old school lovers. Well the old school crowd wasnt too pleased when he tore up a subpoena inside the court house. That was before he refused to cooperate with the authorities who were investigating the concert murders and who openly tried to tie it to drugs, gangs and any other convenient social menace that would make the heroic aspects of the repelled attack be downplayed. Insubordinate was given the standard indefinite sentence for Contempt of Court and he was only released upon the tenth day when the detectives called and explained to Insubordinates mother that he was a victim and not a suspect. Her
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tears and pleas for him to just answer their questions made him relent on his jail house status. While there he was a free man who was not literally free because he had the balls to say fuck the disrespectful elements of the judicial system. Even the guards seemed to respect him since all he did each day was read and play chess. He was an overall good influence on the jail. After being released he was replacing the States slop by eating his mothers collard greens, baked chicken, macaroni & cheese and cornbread when his niece A tossed the latest edition of Vibe onto the dining table. Insubordinate saw his name on the cover in white letters against a blue background and kept on doing what was important after being locked up; eating and drinking his moms Kool Aid. Well that was after asking, Whats this? Adrianna was his niece. He called her A for the best grade. She picked the magazine back up and began to read. The article punched Insubordinates critics coming right out of the gate. Snitch my ass. How many of our real Thugs and Gangsta Rappers would be man enough to jeopardize their own freedom based solely on principle? Let me answer, few to none. Insubordinate is clearly one of the few. Faced with an investigation that tried to sweep the murder of two attempted murderers under the rug by calling it the usual gang rival or drug related deaths, Insubordinate tore up his subpoena right in the court house because he was being treated as a suspect and not victim. He held his ground for 10-days and was willing to do a whole lot more. Insubordinate only relented when the lead investigators told his parent that he was a victim and not a suspect. Standing for and on principal was what being a man was all about. How many of us would have displayed the courage that Insubordinate displayed? Let me answer, few to none. A was an excellent reader who hated the un-stimulating boredom of routine and compulsory schooling. Plus she personally argued that Chance, as he was known to his family, was primarily self-educated. He already knew what the schools were going to try and teach him before he even stepped into the classroom. Educational tirade aside, she went onto explain how the writer felt that Insubordinate lived up to his name and that he was not reckless. Insubordinate kind of and sort of felt reckless. He questioned his actions after his she-ro, Oprah, cancelled their interview while he was in jail. Another
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Rapper and two people murdered while attempting to murder. Maybe she was thinking more about the protection of her staff and audience. After all bad people had just recently tried to kill Chance because of his thoughts and opinions. And the persons or person who had cut the sound off and lights on high was still atlarge. That all described fear of bullying and terrorism to Chance but as Insubordinate he quickly realized that Oprah was a wise and rational woman and that the cancellation wasnt likely personal it was a business decision. And Chance too had to make some personal decisions in order to protect his family. Hey, ma. She was in the kitchen and he was at the dining table. Im moving. That was how Chance decided to relocate to Georgia and where he wanted to be close enough to Florida to run there if wanted too. Valdosta was on the Georgia/Florida borderline and anything less than 26.2 miles, a marathon distance, was close to Chance.

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CHAPTER NINETEEN The Asian Sistahs (The 1990s: The Age of New Jack City) The Asian Sistahs were like an urban Rap related myth. Some called them Japanese while others called them Chinese or Korean. The best rumor, though, was that they were really Ninja men dressed as kick-ass women. The only truth was that there was no real proof that they even existed at all. When the police questioned Insubordinate he actually wouldnt have been able to tell them anything even if he had a remote desire to do so. Heck, he had just been introduced to them himself. They would help him out over the next couple of decades but who they were he never really questioned. And witnesses at the concert provided nothing short of conflicting reports. Plus there was no footage of them on any of the few security cameras from banks that existed in the ancient times of the 1980s and 1990s. Nothing confirmed their existence except maybe the fact that Insubordinate was alive even after being sneak attacked.

MUSLIMS and the Power of 4 (1980s to Present) Even Chance often wrestled with respect for Islam. But there was no denying that some of the intellectually sharpest and most insightfully spiritual people he had ever met were Muslim. They all left a very favorable impression. And the common everyday Muslim, the taxi driver, the guy or gal at the party store; all were usually very cool and read and shared materials or thoughts that gave respect to the respectable. Like many Jews and Blacks once you got to know many of the individuals that were clustered or driven into a social group then one would come to know also that they really just wanted to live in peace, which literally meant not be harassed and just left alone to live a thoughtful and fruitful life. Like most peoples goals, the Muslim as a person goal was not to be overtly discriminated against, to have the universal aspects of their culture embraced, to be respected as individuals and to not be seen as a homogenous group. That was evidently the most healthy and productive way to leave them and others alone. Be a good neighbor and be a decent citizen. Wasnt that all part of a natural process for building and maintaining a community? Still Chance had few regrets about his lines of work other than not spending more time with his daughters. He didnt regret having been recruited by the Unknown Committee, which he still called them. He called them that because he
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had only ever met the two recruiting operatives in his network. It was a network which he knew had to be much bigger and a lot better connected. And so far every target handed down to him from the Unknown Committee had been a despicable human being who was bound for hell anyway. And to solidify that belief most were assassinated while in the process of planning an attack on civilians. That made pulling the trigger just that much easier and sleeping with a dream of the horrors or horror associated with killing them nonexistent. Amongst some Muslims, the suicide bombers were the worse. They were the most cowardly of cowards. He actually enjoyed intercepting suicide bombers as they headed for their targets: a marketplace, a religious center or crowded hotel. Thats also why Chance thought they were the worse. Civilians werent soldiers no matter how it was sliced and diced. Their leaders didnt send their suicide bombers into the resort towns favored by millionaires and billionaires. No, they sent their strapped bombers into the marketplace where grandma, an uncle or a father was just trying to make ends meet. Yet those same bombing Muslims claimed to be better than Americans and defenders of the poor and downtrodden. They were cowards because they knew that if they bombed the rich, the surviving billionaires would hunt them down like the jackals they were. Despite that, Chance had few regrets except for his occasional rants against the Koran. He had major problems with the Koran and its followers being so casual about slavery. That was the fault line for Chance and there was no explaining away the fact that slavery was supported by the Koran and widely practiced by Muslims all over the world. The targets of slavery were even more numerous than were the targets of terrorism and that was problematic to Chance. Shoot to Chance slavery was more problematic than terrorism because slavery was terrorism. It was terrorism of the worse kind. But as if he didnt have enough problems, now he had to dodge the surveillance technology known as drones. Actually, drones had been a problem since the early 1990s but seemed to have gotten worse as their stories in the media grew. He made the calculated mistake of taking a U.S. drone out in Liberia and that resulted in a U.S. military buildup that almost cost him his life. Even the Asian Sisters didnt show up for that one, as far as he knew. So the drones were double trouble. They were Chances damned if you and damned if you dont.

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That was also part of the reason why abroad and locally terrorists were the enemy and in the U.S., in particular, it was the Power of 4.

The Power of 4 was similar in power to the Unknown Committee. Only their goals were more corporate strategically. However, they were a danger because much of their technology was outside of normal channels and rivaled that of the Unknown Committee. The Power of 4 also had agents who were often dispatched to secure and protect their interests, which as mentioned were largely corporate. Chance believed that they were mostly ex-C.I.A. and F.B.I. operatives who were now mostly mercenary workers for corporate and financial America and other parts of the commercial webs around the world. The Power of 4 was also a danger because the Unknown Committee had designated them as so. Through the same Wikileak like channels that assignments were selected reports of the Power of 4s activities were also highlighted and profiles of some of their agents were documented. Also updates were encouraged by any of the Unknown Committees agents who encountered the Power of 4 agents. Tom Swords name was added there by Chance as being an unconfirmed but likely agent. It all was considered Police Intelligence and governmental in-fighting to Chance. Both the Unknown Committee and the Power of 4 obviously had ties to legitimate government functions. Chance would have not been at all surprised if some of them were actually Senators and members of Congress. As matter of research he was sure of it. But getting too close to confirming that information was a sure route to receiving a bullet in the head, heart or both. A strategic missile or bomb strike of his home wasnt out of the question either. His home was bomb proof but nothing was missile proof. Still he wondered which secret agency was more behind the drone strikes. Was it the Unknown Committee or was it the Power of 4?

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CHAPTER TWENTY Air-gapped and Government Surveillance (2013) Chance had several air-gapped computers. Air-gapped was computers that were never connected to the internet. Sometimes being disconnected was more sensible than being connected. People soon forgot that all of the surveillance stuff going on today was predicted well before it happened. All they had to do was read archived articles from Times, Forbes, Ebony, Fortune and other mainstream news magazines to find that clear and accurate documentation. But thats right, its now cool not to read and study rigorously just to make one point or not be well informed in ones disbelief about anothers multiple points of view. Study takes time and was best done before any of us intellectually wined and dined, Chance would have strongly recommended. Chance believed in an awkward strategy of find me if you cant. Everyone needed to send the surveillance community multiple false messages. Register your phone in a phony name, play any evasive game that you can. Its not illegal if what theyre doing was illegal, and it cant be the law if its against the law. It was called self-defense against wrongful surveillance and the people would be better off protecting the journalist and ignore that many of them were investigative creeps because Chance found out that historically better protection for journalist meant greater protection for the rest of us. Some computers didnt belong on the internet for no other reason than that some snooping teams of private contractors didnt belong on there either. Of course, Chances rant against contractors would be something like fuck them, they arent the law. Or hed borrow from a Gangsta Rapper and be real with it and say fuck them hard but not in the raw. Distort their false missions and use a lot and lots of profanities to mess with their fake sensibilities and pile it all on top of their reasons to despise us all the more prayerfully. When a person was more suspicious of you than you were of them there was a good chance that their suspicion was proof of a non-blindly held governmental allegiance. Most likely their allegiance was to the country and the government was not and has never been the country. Its people always have been and always will be the country. Even when a cell phone was turned off Anonymous and the government could still listen as if it were turned on. That was why Chance believed that everyone had to continually provide them self with technical and operational safety from
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the governments prying and their court supported subpoenaed lies. It was nothing new it was just a continuance of the methods borrowed from the earliest stages of our own governments complicity with injustice. The governments policing position that if you dont have anything to hide then there was no need to worry argument was both empty and insane. They called some people crazy conspiracists then when Martin Luther King had nothing to hide and look what the government rewarded his I Have Dream Speech with. While looking, look also at what they were currently doing to the journalist who reported on that surveillance which was still in full affect and which were all part of Chances unpublished rants here. And if ever published they would be called rants to distort the words credibility and to mess with the writers and others sensibilities for truth. They would slaughter the real news again. The real issue was the corporate sponsored or cooperation with government lying and prying. The cover of national security was growing ever weaker with an exposed lie that was justified by the unjustified. The question Why? deserved an answer that neither side of the political aisle would be pleased with. Chances rants would further state that protecting Americans while removing the protections of its citizens was a shackle to freedom. And that we were all chained together by and due to that intentionally faulty effort. We were being lead to nowhere in the name of being led to somewhere. We cant continue to let people who wont balance our budget by helping the needy, who only vote to bomb or not to bomb others as diplomacy or who voted that outsourcing was in the countrys best interest to continue to reset the boundaries for Americans freedom. The treatment of a known terrorist should be different than that of a known American. If an American wasnt helping to get something bombed, then there was no need for surveillance. And the fact that our governments police agencies and their contractors dont make that distinction mean we all have something to hide from our shadowy and very secretive government. Wheres the proof that the shadowiness and secret measures were making us more secure as a nation? There wasnt any proof so dont bother to look other than as an exercise to competently confirm that the proof really doesnt exist. Digital Security Conferences about digital security risks have speakers who often talked to a halfempty room of chairs but they werent having a senility based melt down Clint Eastwood-like conversation. There were very few exceptions to the empty chairs.
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The few likely exceptions were universities that gave students class credit or faculty time off or when a business made it a mandatory meeting. Under those circumstances it was a full room with a quarter of the attention being paid to half of the speakers details, making the few people who had paid attention the smart people of the moment at work. They were smart because they still had the simple answers to the complex questions that were already answered by the speaker earlier. So the digital threats lurked beyond many of the workers willingness or ability to anticipate or even to begin to understand that threat. The workers were not paid to know so they didnt want to know. And what they were paid to know they knew just enough to continue being paid. It was an unintended consequence of leaner and meaner productivity strategies that people felt was meaner and only leaned towards making their pay leaner. So since there was no job security people werent all that interested in protecting the fort that protected the palace. But a new fear and paranoia was sure to bring them back. And just like before words will be used about protecting the security of the fort when the real role was cheap laborers who fought hard and relentlessly to protect the security of the palace. And the enemies of the palace were many. There were hackers, crackers and attackers. Even most C.I.A. directors and generals were junior varsity players when it came to digital security and they were on the frontline. How can the palace keep the fort safe when the palace was where the high-level security administrators used junior varsity playbooks and junior varsity playmakers? Thankfully, the terrorist were self-limited and angry thinkers who used outdated tools too. But how long would that last? Temporarily ignore Chances opinion about it all. He would just say read up on the last five or so Internet compromised politicians, CEOs or Fund Managers. The source of their lack of security protocols was the biggest risk. The old boys and girls network had some pretty weak boys and girls when it came to basic Internet security. But their curriculum vitae look oh so pretty. But like the author Nassim Nicholas Taleb in his book the Black Swan warned and Chance paraphrased, they know a whole lot about nothing. It was like their job was to appear to be of importance and not actually be important. Threat Score (2013) Chance was not a frequent flier on overseas flights and the only overseas calls he made or received were from Taylor who was either in Sweden or Germany. So his
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domestic flights were not marked SSSS which stood for Secondary Security Screening Selection like too many domestic journalists were. That marking would mean scrutiny beyond the ordinary measures. And once in that level of the TSAs security system it would almost take an Act of God to get out of it. A threat score could be as high as 500. When it was over 300 a person was flagged and would likely be detained during both domestic and international travel regardless of what the real intent of that travel was for. A robotic agent was part of the hiring criteria. And to add insult the flagged person would be issued a National Security Letter for their electronic communications and not be told when it would be returned or why it was selected to be taken in the first place. Just as we were warned during the infancy of the internet when Windows 3.0 was all the rage all that the government said wouldnt happen has happened and continues to happen thanks to the new constructions out in Utah of all places. The Mormons were freakish both politically and religiously, and that was from Chance who had a high tolerance for political and religious freakishness. Chance had plenty of proof in Mitt Romney though regarding the Mormons. Mormons were better than the rest of us. They had better values than the rest of us. They were better educated, more religious and more culturally sound than the rest of us. And they had better plans for America than the rest of us. And if that sounded similar when assessing the Amish, the Jehovah Witnesses and others thats because Chance felt that way about their religious ambitions also. Chances question, why dont the Mormons and Amish as a group have a threat score? Werent they more of threat by allowing domestic surveillance to occur and be housed in their states? And werent the rest of us Americans just as guilty for not jumping on the problem when it was smaller and not later (any time after 2013) when it was sure to be much bigger and much more difficult to contain and explain? Palantir (2013) Palantir, a CIA funded startup, was also credited with helping kill Osama bin Laden. Its customers were the N.S.A., C.I.A. and F.B.I. Palantir was propped up as an honest enterprise in the book The Finish where fictional details of the killing of Osama were designated as non-fictional. Now all of that misinformation was good as far as public knowledge went but the reality was that a company like Palantir was also searching for Chance and other U.S. citizens who werent playing ball with the governments counter terrorism efforts.
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Unfortunately the U.S. government had a poor legacy of terroristic designation. Martin Luther King, The Hippies and their Flower Power and many of the Lieutenants of the Civil Rights Movement were designated as domestic terrorists by the F.B.I. and other police agencies. How does one reason with the unreasonable? You dont, instead you treat them worse than they treat you but only more smartly and with less of a driven ego. To fight for civil liberties effectively would surely enable one to be labeled a social menace and worse a domestic terrorist. State and city androids (cops) used Palantir to analyze license plates. It was about as bad as when battling Chinese hackers only these hackers were government supported and spied as private contractors. And on and on went Chances rants on the subject of government surveillance, which had never ended but had been upgraded to the point of being a resurfaced and protracted political problem.

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BOOK TWO: INTRODUCTION Compiled here in Book Two were just a small portion of the various materials that Taylor and Trudy were able to hack from their fathers computer. These were also some of the materials that Chance would normally have included in his music blog the Flight of the Afflatus and Meditative Insight across the Urban Storms of Life but instead he had included other materials in the blog. However, he did plan to include these and other materials in an interactive eBook with the same title as his blog one day, probably well after he retired from his work with the Unknown Committee. Book Two has been sub-divided into chapters twenty-one through chapters twenty five. The chapters here are entitled: Soft Rap Lyrics, Hard Rants and Raves, Hard Rap Lyrics, Poetry, and then Soft Rant and Raves. Following that nonsense, as Insubordinate would have considered their placement, the narrative and essay styled story resumes with a blistering speed that includes for Chance one challenge right after another in chapter twenty six. Insubordinate would have recommended that the reader skip the next five chapters, while this author ask that you please enjoy this directional break and provide feedback if you should so desire.

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CHAPTER TWENTY ONE Saggin is Sandbaggin Chance was Insubordinate when he blogged for the Flight of the Afflatus. That meant that from time to time he tested his lyrics with his Blog partners, which others mislabeled as followers. Insubordinates Blog partners led and were encouraged to offer challenge more than praise. It was an informal focus group of sorts and an unscientific poll that often lead to meaningful changes to his narrated essays and songs. Saggin is Sandbaggin was a lyrical development inspired some time ago by Kendrick Lamar. Kendrick is a young Rapper whom Insubordinate had a lot of respect for because he was intelligent and honest. Enough so that he was able to shed a lot of light on both the plight and rise of young men. So it was not a criticism in and of itself, it was just an alternative to gangsters and Thuggin whose main fault in Chances mind was that Thuggin was poorly disciplined not that it had almost always existed. Saggin is Sandbaggin (Forget the homies) Homie, later with that mad at the world all-around haterism And finding generalized reasons to dis women to promote playerism Should we freeze you out when youre unfit Talking smack, misbehavin as if thats wit (Forget the homies) If a jail cell is their pursuit If sagging represents our best, not a tailored suit Thats where thug life produces undisciplined uncouth acting men and lawsuits Thats why they misname some of us a cur Thats an insult to a loyal dog and to some of us equally a slur (Forget the homies) Macaroni and Cheese has a much better texture and flavor
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Than prison issued Ramen Noodles and a prison guards cultural disfavor (Forget the homies) Thats an attraction to the craziness of thuggin for the proud to be neglected Its also really a belief that community rights should not be respected (If so, forget the homies) The inner fight should not to be used to curse the world The inner fight should be disciplined and used to protect boy and girl If sagging represents our best, not a tailored suit Thats where Thug Life produces undisciplined uncouth acting men and lawsuits Cant Fake the Funk Pretension, apprehension, & avoidance of the 5th dimension Baggage monsters in the heart, hair as an extension Prettifying formulas backfired when making Frankenstein Smart, fresh and naturally gorgeous is the mind, see Einstein A man with bling A wedding without a ring The clothes made the man A castle made of sand Strike two, strike three youre out Traded from one bastard, signed by a lout Lout is not the word, listen to this other shit As they speak in code, Standard English, and call it legitimate Incorrigible, recalcitrant, slatternly, uncouth Elites monikers for Hip Hops youth *****
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(Chorus) Cant fake the funk By twerking whats in the trunk By acting like being unique means to disobey While clubbing cares away Sorry, you cant fake the funk If you cant jump, you cant dunk You either have it or you dont Youll either get it or you wont Ashes to ashes, lust to lust Stop complaining, start re-training, and make success a must (Repeat make success a must twice and also sprinkle it periodically in the background with ever other verse or so) Make cheerfulness a tax credit Make hate something to edit Make happiness a habit Make learning your personal iTablet ****** Now back to the pretension, apprehension, & avoidance of the 5th dimension The Top 10 Commandments to reduce the haters that I failed to mention 1, 2 & 3 Use their hate as a counter weight (make success a must) 4, 5 & 6 7&8 9 & 10 Remember haters are relentless so dont forget to update Dont work for a consensus unless that consensus works for you Gain the prize, defend your title, and stay hungry work like its new

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Now that you have one of many programs for success Be the best, fight not to trust in excess (Chorus) Beauty is confidence and happiness Mess is words that reward crappiness Good hair is nappy Kinky curly comes from momma and pappy Or go to YouTube, type 100 Years without a Comb Dont continue web surfing, come on home Broad nose, thick lips, broad hips Ebonics, electronics, food at Sonics on late night trips Youre truly worthy Born to be sassy and downright earthy Hear the music of Earth, Wind & Fire You Cant Hide Love is more than a song about desire Play to your strength and strengthen a prayer for your weakness Ride the waves, and if you need to make a horse bet, go to the Preakness (Chorus) If At 1st You Dont Succeed Misguided Over-rided Undecided Derided Provided If at 1st you dont succeed, refine your approach
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Even the best athlete benefits from a good coach Intelligently take more risks When you walk with pride, its more sure and brisk Luck? No baby, God guided A spiritual sail with thoughts that arent one sided Regulated formulas are meant to prevent trouble Unregulated formulas guarantees more than another economic bubble Misguided Over-rided Undecided Derided Provided Success can come from failures to make you hearty Unlike fools we dont have a failure party Nuts and bolts lessons a rare find on a TV station Uncertainty though can be freedoms key to motivation Fights to the finish A spirit replenished Youre not through when you havent even begun You cant win until you have won The city is not dangerous when people in it vouch for you Sitting, drinking, smoking weed all day, thats not new Or cool Or school Or rule
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Or fuel Chaos to some is unregulated order Youre known by the filters contained within your border Some jewelry around the neck is a choker Chasing bling like Batman chased the joker But its cool, we got good taste We also have an imbalance of haste and waste Words reveal an intention and reinforce an attachment Wrong-headed obsessions only string out a detachment Like photography, digital freedom is more democratized For a serial documentation of the beauty that was once demonized The demon is a saint, a saint a sinner Move over both of you, the outcast is the actual winner That which defines who we are Signals where we belong in the world, not some unwelcoming bar Dont take lightly the connection Or an interest with affection Direction Reflection Selection Correction Youre either enriched or distorted Inactive complaints are just brave words that are contorted Bewitched or be-bitched Either way you are better off if you just switched
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Be a conscientious objector, unenlist, go AWOL Crossover, juke the defender, lay up the ball Lay up the ball, dont dunk Unless the winning score is 11 to skunk Youve heard be careful of imitators I say be careful of noisy demonstrators Who build nothing and seek growth through applications of fear Growth is doing and building, not lend me your ear Beware of a clever incorporation And people whose politics include massive deportation Go instead for better relations Uh, huh and do it without excuse bred hesitations Rap provokes attention, allows the mind to unfurl And challenges the over experience of the world Introspective intentions and the burden of the wasted Talented and rejected fully regurgitated and not tasted Owning, giving, wearing Bemoaning, sinning, swearing Easy, cheap, everywhere Courted, invaluable, rare Maker and viewers, shakers and doers Fakers and users, takers and sewers If at 1st you dont succeed, refine your approach Even the best athlete benefits from a good coach Misguided
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Over-rided Undecided Derided Provided If at 1st you dont succeed, refine your approach Even the best athlete benefits from a good coach

Withdraw From Public Life (Chorus) The news following strife Inciting mass unrest Culturally coded Possibility models Auxiliary thugs Needs to withdraw from public life ***** Short leased friends Slow beginnings fast ends Shame equals silence False blame equals violence Withdraw from public life To make no deposits on public strife Couch surfing and close to dumpster diving Include many provisions that arent providing Criminalize poverty and provide one way tickets out of town
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Onto the next major who hopefully is no political clown A non-bleeding heart Is a heart that doesnt pump the blood of fairness and downgrades art Fender-bending carjacking is a new technique for an old crime The same result equals the same amount of time Makes you fan-less And almost empty of usefulness That is akin to chewing food like youre toothless And I tossed that in there because youre ruthless

Hard to please Unpredictable Seemingly un-loveable Under the hill Mis-overstood Easily broken and hard to mend Dont excuse me if I say You are an arse hole Quick to come apart emotionally As a weird expression of self-importance Comes forth a reaction against importance Competing for bad girl or bad boy brownie points Pigs utter many things but none of them are oink

Up off the canvas to fight failure

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Its okay to be living in a Hood or trailer Bragging to manipulate Driven to stimulate A breeze of cooled anger Through a hello and welcome to a stranger Social paranoia is danger Left untreated means the birth of a psychosis Id rather deal with halitosis

Raise a fist, dont whine Followed by that should be a peace sign Like a Hollywood mood swing Treating bad behavior like it aint a bad thing You know how we do what we do To be down means so can you Black-owned, Black moans, the former needs to grow Black-owned, Black groans, the latter needs to go Poor at the store Poor at the door Poor with money to burn Poor with more money to earn

Want to be the bomb, be poised Want to be heard dont make silly noise
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People say no first Until you create a thirst A draining task Must you ask Whats going on When whats right to you is whats absolutely wrong

Predictions to be nothing While the inner you rises in protest to be something More than the homies looking to beat the streets A road to prison a bad place to beat your meat Thats self-defeat, beating your meat So train yourself Or be coached or self-trained to be Def Withdraw from public life Thats not a good option for a husband and wife

Want to knock me off when your stroke is off Just remember I write lyrics like Inbee Park plays golf Meaning youre in the rough while Im on the green An eagle versus a bogey, is that why youre looking so mean The time to adapt is when your flaws are exposed So dont think that most Rappers minds are closed Or that all they know is the Rap game Intellectual many are not, a few maybe socially inane
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Likely underground thinkers, fewer than few hopefully not actually insane And also not a definite economic drain or the queens drone Sacrificing their brain so someone else gets to inhabit the throne Know that the real enemy is brutal as an institution Because what theyre offering is money as death and pollution Awareness raising stunts, call that craft Daft Punk jams but theyre channeling Roger & Zapp (Chorus) The news following strife Inciting mass unrest Culturally coded Possibility models Auxiliary thugs Needs to withdraw from public life Technically and Practically Behind his notoriety Was anxiety and fear of his anxiety Not thee, Thees anxious see Spurred on and fired up by the nearness of battle Stay to thyself because first graders do tattle Talk, tell and dont ever smoothly gell Humpty-dumpty, weebles wobble, down they both fell Envy as motivation for street riches Men turn to critical Niggahs and tell
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Youre technically and practically (repeat) Lonesome and loveless The ingredients of a mass shooting Drive-byes become less Acting better is not better than best A marathon is not an unreachable distance A sprint is just the start of a full race So why do you have that I won look on your face Talking about you Cornel West Attacking Sharpeton whos already passed the soldiers test Put this is your constitution Neither of you have built a 16,000 employee holding institution About 50 of those is what we need Not debates about how the poor keep falling to greed Take mine and all other such songs away too The work of reconstruction since 1850 is still due Lyrics are servants of that beat Scholars arguing about the poor is dumb sounding smart on repeat Using commercial forums to work out private obsessions The lack of Black entrepreneurship is a Civil Wrong recession Or is that depression The root of street aggression The need is for leaders with a better plan or lesson Talk, talk, talk isnt economic possession Youre technically and practically (repeat)
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Denial isnt a primary or secondary proof of importance Not seeing that is the short-sightedness of insights shortages To find the play on your or our fear Trace the sources of jerk around year after year Which Rapper employed the most people? Hes not morally bankrupt after Cant Touch This was lethal Master P has a master plan Masters are just like Congress, they just dont understand The final outcome isnt the finality of finally A day of loss isnt the totality of totally Indirect influence is influenced directly Mentoring meteorites is what affects thee Propelled from an orbit of success The who, how and where is no longer a guess Or the pain of jeans with the logo of your enemy A frenemy aint Bill Bellamy Theres no haters mystique In Mitch McConnels underwhelming physique (Chorus) (technically and practically hard in the background)

Overshadowed by the less talented Kissing butt, a healthy or proud person cant handle it Elevator pitches chasing the dog track electric rabbit of riches Escalator bitches in a federal case of snitches The music industry cant produce What the streets are about to re-introduce
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A Grammy isnt of much use If the official representation for race or gender amounts to abuse So to re-get away from you Well create another genre thats true True for the best True for the test True for the rest True for the less Youre technically and practically (repeat)

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CHAPTER TWENTY TWO The Peoples Bailout The systems administrators know the psychology which steers people tow ards not caring. It is simply keep doing it, keep doing what they are angry about and which anger you are profiting from. Let them blow off steamed anger and then reward them by doubling down on what angered them in the first place. Let them know that Democracy is not going to dictate how we leverage our money or provide social controls for more money or how we operate to keep out the competition. And the competition could one day be one or more of the angry people. Supervision, regulation, discipline and the cop on the beat must be us; you and I. The people of the marches, the people for whatever progressive social cause must draw lines that connect one to another and find a mutual cause that will allow them to hurdle the lines or barriers of anxiety and separation. One of those lines or barriers is religion. Another line or barrier is politics. Cant we at least agree that regardless of what our beliefs are that those two institutions do more to divide us than to unite us? And the reason that is so is because we are proud to act in the best interest of those institutions and we actively help our neighbor only if they behave according to some standard that we all have a hard time touching the tip of ourselves. From that position 99% of us are contributing mightily to the divide while the revolving door of the 1% keep warning us not to put the interest of our neighbor before the interests of our institutions. And regardless of what we the 99% say our overall practice is not the same as our words are for whatever practice that is being advocated at that moment. So the neighbor suffers from needless judgments and the lack of practices that would lead a way from needless judgments. And we must stop looking for agreement and the comfort of consensus and act boldly to work on the pressing problems of the people we dont like. Part of the proof is that we dont speak or think fondly of them. We weakly associate and lend ourselves to them like a very short term lease, which is fine so long as the poor is being injected with cash and not food stamps or food give-a-ways. Those give-a-ways allow the divided people to feel like they are doing something better than cash could. All who are below the poverty line deserve a cash bailout that will push them above the poverty line for the next 30-years. Once the cash is injected to these deserving people they will right the ship which is this country. Any measure
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that doesnt include lots of no strings attached cash, that doesnt include lots of financial help-outs are probably more of the same social poverty programs which have never worked to raise the poverty stricken above the poverty line. Cash and we thank you. Illuminati The Illuminati, Freemasons, call the bitch-bastards whatever you want. But in that calling know that they are nothing more than a not so secret, well organized and well-funded corporation that hires intelligence for project management. The projects managed are talent and the bitch-bastards direct that talent to the values of a sustained level of individualism both overtly and covertly. They work on both sides of the aisle: evil and good, truth and falsehood, along with benevolence and greed. Their enemies are their friends and their friends are their enemies. They represent the worse and best within the collective of humanity imaginable because exaggerated and extreme individualism has always been their target. So fear not. They are just a bunch of humans who thrive on dastardly deeds. They exist and they dont exist. Carve out your own existence and if one of their smiling principals call just forward their severed head as the only penalty or fee that youre willing to pay to be in their club. Faith-Based Systems Both the financial and religious system is faith-based. Its those spidery web systems of faith that ensnare some and separate a lot of others. Our differences are no more than our faith based systems and since there are thousands of systems that drive the financial and religious institutions, we must allow people to adhere to their legal beliefs but provide cash on the basis of a common denominator. As mentioned that denominator is where you are in 2013 and beyond as it regards the poverty line. The people who drive the thousands of faith-bases are at the root cause of what divides us. All pressure whether you love animals, gays, clean water, oil, nuclear power, and travel to other solar systems must be redirected together as one giant push into a bailout of those below the poverty line. Were all capable of massive outrage and prolonged prayer in the face of piss poor greed and politically supported unfairness. But we are also ordinary Americans who look for a sweetened deal and the best supports for our self188

interest. A bail out of the poor will satisfy the latter unfairness and balance out the former greed. This bailout should be both public and private. It would be public in the sense that the government of ours will have to open the treasury for its bosses which is us, the 99%. It would be private in that Wall Street and its financial partners will have to match the government dollar for dollar. Thanks the 1%. We can use the current food stamp program and its logistics, which should still exist with its current budget as the peoples public equity firm and real estate investment trust to distribute the cash in large monthly installments. Such a program would mostly help the conglomerates as housing, luxury and other disposable income drivers of a healthy economy would tilt toward even greater world envy and to the conglomerates accounts. Theres no reason why this cant be done by January 2015. Lets do this one online. Lets not march on or debate about this one. All of that has already been done for the past 100 years. Lets just do it. And if not for you, do it for your creepy neighbor. The time to do that was yesterday. And each day after that is just another day too late. Hypocrisy and Suicide Worldwide and in the U.S. annually there are more suicides than murders. That serves as sad proof that Black on Black crime and mass shooting are not the most pressing concern for the nation because death itself is not the pressing concern that it ought to be. Pressing concerns cause us to collectively act. Pressing concerns cause us to stop or reduce an act. Those preventable deaths have neither been stopped nor reduced so they cannot be called pressing concerns. The outside threat (gays, Blacks, Jews, immigrants) are used to unite and make people who are not in those groups or who are not like the worse stereotype for people in this those groups feel purposeful and special not to be included in that stereotype. They are special because they are different. They are different because they are not like you and I. Thats all just another form of suicide, social suicide in a sense, as it feeds the envy, rage, shame, regret and reversal of fortune that fuels individual and group suicides.

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In a word, its hypocrisy. Hypocrisy is the enemy of fortune and an enabler of suicide. Disappointments from unfairness lead to pain and greater insight and recognition at the wide range of hypocrisy all around us. Hypocrisy is the root of most social problems and whose reduction or removal is rarely a part of any human social solution. The worse truths are hidden in plain sight and hypocrisy is in plain sight. Jimmy Kimmel and Political Ignorance The political becomes the personal and the personal the political, but they are usually both lies all the same. Case in point, Jimmy Kimmel sends out a crew to interview the 99% people. While on the streets interviewing regular citizens about the Affordable Care Act (ACA) and Obamacare something very interesting happened. The two are the same but most of the people interviewed didnt know that. The people, the 99%, opposed Obamacare but were quite intelligent and articulate when expressing their support of the ACA. Now the list that labels and classifies social bias is long and growing and the respondents exhausted no less than half of most bias categories or labels. Those reasonable people, those extremely and intellectually dishonest citizens are the 99%. They are like most of us who have very untamed egos and unlimited brain space for self-delusions. We should or might be better off if we used one another to free ourselves from ourselves for we often dissolve the best in us through varying degrees of separation. Admit it now, polite society is mean as hell and rarely read or listen to both sides of any argument. How can we, the 99%, ever hope to overcome the more wicked expressions and practices of the 1% when we are all, more or less, thinkers just like those interviewed people whose recorded embarrassment served to highlight more who we really are? And those of us who know that Obamacare and the ACA were the same (because we devour MSNBC, Meet the Press, Times, the National Review magazine, Yahoo feeds, Bill Maher, PBS, The Daily Show, Stephen Colbert, the ACAs website and other medias) are not exempt. Those people are us, the 99%, and highlight the problem. We believe what we want and often believe whats not in our best interest to believe. We are anti 190

intellectual (at a minimum mentally lazy), selfish, passionate about dispassion and we all think more or less that we are not like those other people. Well those other people are us, all 99% of us. We voluntarily believe in more untruths than the 1% could ever tell us. We the 99% must become what we demand of the 1%. The trend that we believe a lot of lies can be found in the daily news nearly every day and especially in the comment sections of most online feeds. The 99%s approval rating has to be lower than Congresss approval rating, although that would require that the 1% be polled. We all should disapprove of that and not require a research study or the polled 1% for proof of that trend. We the 99% are the bully. All of us are at least an arse hole (according to the Bible) with the occasional hypocritical fakery of a polite smile and nice talk (according to me Chance). But as always theres hope in the people. And heres a short reason why we the 99% are our own best hope. The basic commonsense of the average citizen should be the primary guide to every public policy. Sounds nice except when the average citizen was likely to have as low a political IQ as those who were polled by Jimmy Kimmel about Obamacare and the Affordable Care Act and knew not that they were the same. In such incidents, the lack of commonsense becomes the greater political flaw. On the other hand if the average citizens input was the primary guide into health care reform or any other reform, the result of that people instituted policy would then be in terms of a higher commitment to a policy that was owned from the start by its citizens rather than as a policy privately fashioned and then sold to its citizens after it was formed and finished. Now since the policy was largely fashioned by its average citizens, one would also rightly expect there to be a heightened and more enthusiastic exchange of information by word of mouth and formal instruction. Also one should suspect that in a people instituted policy that the overall political IQ of both the people and their politicians would be well beyond even appreciable levels. Surely that would be a more interesting poll.

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City High, City Low There are basically two types of people in the city: cool and assholes. We are all a little bit of one and a whole lot more of the other. So every so often we must ask ourselves, Whats your little and lot for most days, weeks, months, and years or the whole body of your lifes attitude? If your answer is asshole, work on change. If your answer is cool, work on assholes.

E-Book Piracy E-Book Piracy:

Legitimate Retail $14.99 Publishers Profit $7.87 Greeds Margin 53%

Blacktail $9.99 Pirates Profit $9.99 Robin Hoods Margin 100%

Stop and Frisk The police are trying to create permanent terror. What they created was a permanent error. People distrust, dislike and disown such authority. The guy or gal recoiling in fear from them one day just might be the one committing a shooting spree the next. Thats how some people respond to terror, they downgrade courage to terrorizing or terrorism. But it all began because of police terror. See the 1960s.

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CHAPTER TWENTY THREE The PATRIOT ACT The PATRIOT Act remained unpatriotic and was defended by you must have something to hide people who considered it reasonable and needed to increase warrantless surveillance on U.S. citizens without probable cause. By gathering data on U.S. citizens that would better enable the Intelligence Community to protect the country from foreign terrorists. To Chance that all made a lot of sense only if you represented a corporate or federal interest group who would profit from the metadata collected by that surveillance. After all in 2003 our government worked directly out of an AT&T building in San Francisco and promptly began looking primarily for American not foreign domestic terrorists. Chance countered, thats like looking for widespread voter fraud. It doesnt exist. But that doesnt mean that the Intelligence Communitys private Public Relations team cant create the perception that it does exist. Chance had his own loose and tight public relations network, it was called Rap. And since he was also Insubordinate it was more than just past time for Insubordinate to confront an old threat. Only this time he would not applaud the bombing of corrupt institutions like he did in the sixties, for drugged out revolutionists and bombs were an uncontrollably explosive mix. Instead he would do what street gangstas turned family men had softened from doing. He would Rap about the governments wrongs and allow anyone to use it in any manner they saw fit. And these were just some of the songs from that underground catalog: Repeal the PATRIOT Act 2013 hip-hop {rap} Instrumental) Gangsta Style (put to Hard Black Ops II

Prosecutors and judges are used to cover the contracted spys tracks Its used sort of like when a drone attacks Theres a spy in America and its not a terrorist Its our government that tells the world Democracy is the fairest Mirror mirror on the wall Buckets full of bullshit will always fall They think by lie, lie, lie
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That the 4th Amendment will go bye, bye, bye Nice try, try, try Cause were going to hit you in your tax pockets until you provide a better alibi He hit me first, you once told the teacher 1,000 Black Coffins, Ill now tell the preacher I know yall got a Plan A to contain riots Which is also your Plan B to contain rebellious diets But this aint the 1960s And we arent flower power hippies When our government is once again uncreatively lying And using more than Sprint and Google to do targeted prying Want to try us and undo any unconstitutional fact I think you do, you public corporate protector So start by repealing the PATRIOT Act Or well direct your elected ass back to the private sector Chorus The Intelligence Agency is full of bitch ass saints Whose bold lies were meant to be faint By turning a focus on people who say caint and aint Im here to re-introduce your ass, lets call it acquaint Defense of payless corporations, defense of profits Bomb the brown people, ignore their Prophet Turn cents into billions with millions as change Missile dissenters with a drone if they think thats deranged The same old plan is now in information dragnets
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With conservative and predatory preachers calling gays faggots But back to this purpose of militaristic shame There are crooks in our midst with a gangster inspired spying game A few Senators squealed on the crooks too and that was bold Ron Wyden and Russell Feingold found truth for the people and told Super Pac Committees for Federal oversight we cant trust The time for an ACLU type superfund isnt a maybe its a must Needed: Rogue lawyers and guerrilla lobbyists who oppose Not people who think a butt is a place for a nose We all unknowingly violate several Fed laws every year So when the FBI egress your door, dont go Oh my, oh dear That fear should promote prevention From government overreach and camps of detention Just like in a petty and junk filled high school It all gives a fool or fools room to rule The NSA breaks constitutional rules every day But some Ivy League graduated spokesperson says, Uh, uh, no way. Ivy is poisonous dont you know But even to that they will say no it isnt so Rule by dangerous, petty, incompetent and the creepy The same flaws as a bully and the mentally sleepy Ayn Rands position papers as an excuse will do The same old Willie Lynch is in a new brew (Chorus) Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
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My oh my have an awful Wall Street day Financially your rocky roads not paved with trust That makes this song of repeal not an alternative but a must Mislabel us, we fuss at you for a day Home grown militias are responses to what you take away Criminalizing internal whistleblowers long before Edward Snowdens asylum was sought Thomas Drake, William Binney and J. Kirke Wiebe were truth-telling and caught Caught in a lawful act called whistleblowing But were unlawfully raided by the FBI for truth knowing Now theres a corporate 3rd party who is never late or tardy When providing information about us to the Intelligence police the 4th party Wait, who is that over there with hope in the Allegheny Oh, thats just Obama and Biden in bed with George W. Bush and Dick Cheney Say it aint so they are cultural Enemies They have to go these political Frenemies Empty this century of informed public opinion Give government power for more militaristic police abuse and uncivil dominion Or stop that and roll back the Espionage Act until its out of use That Woodrow Wilson modeled law is domestic and international abuse In God we trust not in Trust but verify Cant hope for the best there, verify was just another government lie (Chorus)

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U Come at me Hard Picture this, Chance was at McKey Park. He was there to meet up with a few of the 5:15 PM members of the Valdosta running club for a training run but as usual he was real early. He was early because he always parked his car at Valdosta State University and walked the one and half miles to the Middle School where the complex of a track, football field, sand volley ball pit, pavilion, picnic area and tennis facility were all located. Chance was watching a tennis tournament as he waited for his club members to show up. Just as he was enjoying the match, two young gentlemen sat on either side of him, rudely actually. Arent you that Insubordinate dude that runs those Rap contests? Chance noted that they were probably in high school. The one who had to pull up his shorts in order to sit down had asked the question. Yes, Im him. Yes, Im him. Why you sound so proper? Why you sound so improper? Oh, oh, you got jokes. How may I help you gentlemen? My boy here wants to know why you rap so slow. Is it because you old? How do you know how I rap? We heard your stuff. You all political and shit. And you two arent. Aint what? Political, follow the conversation my man. His boy broke out laughing. Chet here say he can out rap you. You said you could too. You both probably can, so whats the point?
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Chance was finding this exchange to be more interesting than the tennis matches. Few people in Valdosta stopped him to discuss rap. You want to battle? I dont battle but I do FARK. Whats that? This, and with that Chance launched into a fast rendition of U Come at me Hard, which they wound up liking and asked to use. Chance wound up not being challenged by them and soon after went on his run, hoping to run into them again sometime soon; since they said he was spitting knowledge. But this was how he hit them back for even attempting to be rude: U Come You at Me Hard (Put to R&B Guitar Instrumental Beat 2013 - "That Girl" Or ("Ready for War" Aggressive Epic Violin Guitar Beat) You come early, you come later You come surly like a promoting hater You come at me hard like youre channel surfing for Mike Tyson I counter you like the deep roots of Michael Eric Dyson You side-step that deliverance and come at me like an ever ready Tyga Looking hard and calling me all kind of rude names especially Nigga I ignore the stone cold look and turn it around in my Soul with Cornel West Who encourages the command of a progressive leadership role as a mans test Being unreal you over ran that barricade of intelligence and expected to win Making me have to do this cultural challenge of pitted wits all over again This time you came as T-Pain To make hurtful words street plain Theres another one over there thinking hes the next Kendrick Lamar Failing to see that this game can only lift a few of us so far
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So I countered you both with Brother Paul Mooney Could have called Dick Gregory who aint no (RIP) Andy Rooney I didnt want to do this, but youre causing too much social drama So I call Air Force One, which to you is a Nike shoe and not President Obama I spiked the ball with the calls of my generation and social history in a nutshell So embrace us with the same energy you had when you learned how to read, write and spell

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CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR The Nonromantic Man Non-romanticism is the inability to overwhelm ones ignorance of the opposite sex needs or desires. The non-romantic man is one who buys his non-pool playing wife a pool table and soon thereafter invites his friends over every weekend to play pool. He calls women bitches and hoes. He rises late at night to fix a sandwich, leaves the spilled condiments for his woman to clean in the morning, then after a cigarette, with mustard still being on his breath, wakes her up for a booty call. He gains weight and then demands that she go on a diet. In harmony with his poor values, he neglects to compliment the new sexed up dress that she is wearing but does notice that she is wearing too much makeup for him. He has to be reminded of her birthday or any other should special engagement. The result his gift is not well thought out, so he buys her a cheap necklace just like the times before. He has no taste for poetry, sensual lyrics or the practice of setting the ambience which moistens the trail of splendor. He takes his woman out to dinner and complains about the dinners high prices, and work, and her insensitiveness to his problems, andAt least once a month, he rolls off the top of her and falls asleep while she stares at the ceiling and prays for a difference.

A Love Story In between reading I stare at you And you notice Even though you are watching TV You glance (But its not A what does he want glance.) And I pretend to be interested in reading Until a commercial break And you rise from the sofa And come to my chair
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And from my lap Plants kisses and talk, Do what a woman does When shes glad A man is her man.

Bar Pickups She had been riding pleasurably For over fifteen minutes And she kept asking for more She kept making me hold back But I couldnt find much passion In the eternity of fake moans She was moving around on top of me Head back Yelling from a real moan Not yet! Not yet! All while routinely taking all of me I pretended to be at a lost And prematurely out of control Oh, baby, its good, its good And erupted Bastard, she said. I was almost there She had also said that about fifteen minutes before But dont take it out though
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She was so wet with an open invitation That it slide out by itself She took my pride And held up my limpness Like a piece of meat Before she slung it Against my inner thigh Poured herself another drink And asked between sips How long will it take?

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CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE Soul Soul was far reaching and truly diverse. Soul raised Jazz, was pulled from Gospel and Rocked with Roll. The styles varied and covered Philly Soul, Booker T, the Delfonics, the Spinners and moved all the way through Earth, Wind & Fire to the outer limits of Parliament and the Funkadelics to Prince, Eryka Badu and Janelle. Soul was alive and well. That statement was comical in a way to Chance because experts were searching for it on-line in SoulTracks and other musical sources were calling for its resurrection in comment sections. It never was in the grave so Soul cant be found there. But it could be found on Jimmy Kimmel each night. Soul could be found by that background front-man in Jimmys House Band with the symbol of the Afro and an afro pick with a clenched fist as a reminding handle. Soul was also music that a person found to be personally good. And how people couldnt find the music that they liked was beyond Chance and the failure to find music for ones personal fulfillment was the reason that were so many complaints and arguments about music. People who needed good Soul music, all they had to do was tap into Soul Chilled Hip-Hop and Neo-Soul Mixes, Throwbacks (Soul & Funk), Buddha or Tao Lounge mixes and other alternative music mixes. Not to mention that there were plenty of unsigned artists who were just that, artist. They were afflatus driven people with or who loved instrumental brilliance that packed a soulful punch. If people limited themselves to radio and other commercial sources of music, Insubordinate didnt understand how they expected to hear anything other than what they were complaining about. It was time for them to hop off of the top 100 hits trains and diversify their interests. Finding what a person likes was on that person. It was not up to the commercial sources that were called commercial for a reason. Plus it wasnt good for Soul.

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FARKing: A Growing Definition FARKing was more than being about long music sessions and socially conscious targeted Rapping. Sure, FARKing was inspired by 1970s artist whose concerts were often more than 3-hours of non-stop funk. While as mentioned in the prologue, the word FARK was an acrostic that stood for: Fearless Artists of Replayed Knowledge. More than that FARKing was, if anything, Soul-vival. Soul-vival was where Global Rap met unconventional Soul, Hip Hop, R&B, Gospel, Country, and Rock & Roll. A Soul-vival song might jump into a rendition of Stevie Wonders Black Man, and then flow into the Cosmic Slop by Parliament and the Funkadelics, while another group of Rappers and singers might come out on the stage and do two choruses of mock or real Rap battles. When FARKing demeaning lyrics were countered with uplifting lyrics and uplifting lyrics were challenged by demeaning ones with a purpose. When FARKing there was a melodic mix of Soul, Jazz, Aborigine, Caribbean, Latin Soul, Rock, New Age, Funk, Gospel, Indie, Bollywood, Gregorian chant, and just about any other sound that someone was willing to ease into the give and take to form a rocking and funky laden melody. And what didnt mix could sometime stand alone as an intro or sense shocking switch before another sense calming beat would take one to the next phase of the rich Soul-vival purpose of melodic choreography mixed with lots of improvisation. Soul-vival was found when combining Michael McDonalds I Keep Forgetting, Simply Reds Holding Back the Years and Tina Turners I Dont Want to Fight No More along with other dispersed samples mixed in throughout the underlying music from say a selection of the Eyes Wide Shut soundtrack that was also re-looped or played live. It all depended on the venue and cause. Different sounds, different textures, all working off the same mood response, while taking it either lower or higher or keeping it constant all in one evolving song. Dr. Dres beats were more than ok, but Soul-vival was different for it slipped into darkness and lit up the light. It wasnt just about Hip Hop; it was as Don Cornelius had preached for years: Love, Peace, and Soul. The Love was in the complete welcoming, Peace was with the conscious lack of issues for drama, and the Soul came through while putting ones inner truth into the art.

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Arab Rappers Check out the Arab Rapper El General, Morocco and El Haqe. Also check out Kitab Al Dawlas Dogs of the State, which was now an erased video from YouTube. Its art where the heads of police were digitally replaced by donkeys. Sounds like a good idea for that cop in Philadelphia who went racially viral with his stop and frisk rant, and other anti-Occupy police who are too numerous to list here. Because of police abuse, some police should have their digital heads replaced by the ass of the donkey. Maybe thats why the Martinician born Frantz Fanon, in his book The Wretched of the Earth, called for cultural decolonization. Thats why on the road to that social fulfillment we gave him Gospel, Soul, Blues, Rock & Roll, Jazz, Funk, Rap, Hip Hop and R&B. With that we were only getting started with the next wave of visual art already in the pipeline to counter the enemies of freely expressed culture. The enemies were simply outlined as: racial categories, historical repression, and the traditional hierarchy of literary and musical forms. That outline was a large part of what al-Qaeda backed Islamists and Christian Conservative funders were fighting to keep. Without a doubt destruction of those three pillars would result in greater and unimaginable political, social, religious and economic freedom. Unfortunately, we will also see a counter offensive that will be no more ruthless than the offensiveness waged by the forefathers of repression. The battle lines were drawn some time ago. According to the Christian Conservative Stand Your Grand laws and the Talibans shooting in the head a 16year young girl, the national and global Hip Hop community needs more guns to protect the thinkers who will likely lose even more control of themselves as they create a Democracy that the world has yet to witness in celebration. So defend yourselves by going on the offensive. Thats what they did and continue to do during the Arab Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter. Behind it all were Rappers and other artists. Hip Hop and Rap claimed the ruins, while R&B picked up the pieces like the band AWB, the Average White Band. And now we have the Arab Rappers dropping lyrics and beats that call for the end of bombs dropping over Baghdad,
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just like we need the police of the U.S. to both officially and unofficially cease their totally dishonest, hate and Christian biased backed Stop and Frisk campaigns. To our Arab step-brothers and sisters, keep Rap, R&B and the traditions that support your individual liberty alive over there where you are just like we will continue to do over here where we are.

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CHAPTER TWENTY SIX Chances Number of Kills So far in his counter terrorism career Chance had been directly responsible for 129 kills, which he called kill targets, and was indirectly responsible for 437 others according to the Unknown Committees internal operations Wiki -Targets report. Chance felt that both numbers were relatively conservative. Early in his career after being freed from the knock downs of the housing projects, he was a prolific and efficient operator. He hustled for kills like a gangster hustled for money or a new politician for votes. The more operations he carried out the more operations he wanted to carry out. Like most successes, successful operations had an addictive quality to them. Most teams of F.B.I. and C.I.A. operatives had a total of 30 kills over the span of their career but were indirectly responsible for thousands. After all, those government operations were mostly in the business of overseeing wars, coups and uprisings; both foreign and domestic. Individual American Intelligence agents considered their low direct death count as progress because human targets shoot back when they can, so the agents avoided direct confrontation. Especially since an exposed operative was almost guaranteed a bullet, if not worse, and direct confrontation had the highest probability for exposure than almost any other spy related operation. Chance wasnt likely to be exposed even though most of his confrontations were direct; after all he was trained for direct confrontation. But times for confrontations of any kind were running out. The Rug Dealer and maybe one or two other really bad men was all the time he had left before retiring to a life of business, music and encouraging Millennials to profit from the current system with a purpose of building parallel systems. Despite all of that he needed to become more involved with his daughters, especially Taylor, as he saw her least. Trudy was well on her way to forging an identity as her own woman. But she would always be his baby, too. But the real lady would be his woman. Right now that was Mya. He emphasized right now because he had met her twin sister and she was the loud and toxic type of ghetto.

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Chance couldnt help but wonder just how far removed Mya was from that toxicity. But who was he to judge, after all he was born and raised in one of the housing projects of Flint, MI. It doesnt get much more ghetto than that. Surely he was doing Mya a disservice by now looking for signs of it in their local relationship. And to make matters worse their local relationship had all of the characteristics of being a long distance relationship. He still questioned their timing and his fairness to her. He had a lot of agendas to attend to and quality time was not the highest priority at the moment, a moment that could last for months and sometimes years. That was a contributing factor to his and Joans breakup. Would chasing the Rug Dealer and other bad guys also be a divisive factor for him and Mya? Time would tell. Concerts (Summer 2012) Looking at all of the classical and experimental instruments up on the stage during an Insubordinate 2012 concert along with the theatrical props, one would expect Yanni and the cast of Dream Girls to walk out on stage and not an over 55 year old Soul Rapper. But that was Insubordinate doing the unexpected while staying close to the roots of Soul, Rock and Gospel which were all the stabilizing forces of R&B, Hip Hop and Rap. But still few had the quality of his concerts sound. Insubordinate used a sound trick that put Dr. Dre like sound quality right into the audience from all directions, even from underneath. Alarm companies had recording devices that could hear and record a pin drop. Insubordinate put those removable audio sensors around the stage and into the floors or ground of his concert venues. The sensors were reimagined with a wireless feed that fed the audio to speakers that filtered the sound in real time and shot it back out of the speakers which were in the walls, floors, on concession workers and really some of everywhere. He also had every concert recorded and within 15-minutes of the concerts ending had CDs and downloadable Apps for sale of the concert. It was popular because subscribers to the online Blog the Flight of the Afflatus could watch all shows (including live ones) for free and exclusively. So stories about the concerts all spread rather quickly by word of mouth and on YouTube where it was mostly about the musical downloads. Most of the other comments were about what was missed at the concert and had to be seen or heard in order to really get another interactive and unique angle of the particular musical experience.
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Even people who had smartphones at the concerts bought the CDs or downloads because a smartphone wasnt smart enough to record the entire concert experience like a cameraperson perched up like he or she was at an ESPN Game Night sideline. His concerts even featured the cable roaming camera seen during NFL games, so that on the fly editing combined all the features in a menu that offered crowd shots, lobby, outside party shots, etc. Even Beyonc had incorporated some of those features into her concerts and that and sales were all the approval and incentive needed to continue recording the concerts on the level of a college football game. Several of the $500,000 cameras had been purchased in the early 2000s and were updated as needed so that there was no overhead cost and the technology had early on paid for itself. It was a feature that he licensed to his crew who were the stage setup team, lighting, acoustics and camera team. They used the equipment at others concerts on a license by license case, so they worked even when Insubordinate wasnt doing concerts. There were even a few stunt men in the crew who did only God knows what at Rave and EDM concerts for Star DJs like AfroJack and Avicii. People thought that Insubordinate was crazy and wasteful when he first introduced the concept but the yearly six figures in royalties silenced the critics. Those critics were now onboard and some were even now part of the advanced crew. Concerts (Summer 2012) Of course all of that footage was made into a serialized documentary that had sold over 1.5 million copies from a 2 volume set. That wasnt bad for a documentary that mixed music and politics and urged those who feared or believed in the Illuminati to create a parallel music system and to distrust those whose work wasnt in that direction. Most of our superstars, Chance warned, have nothing to do with Blacks and Whites rising and that was no coincidence. Name the top 100 artist and you had just named the guilty, excluding Insubordinate, of course. That was about all that he had to say about that conspiracy theory with a solid pattern of truth as he was more concerned about Black and White wealth and its combined and separate lack of social activity. To Chance that seemed like somebodys plan and they were all following it for a serious reason. His documentary covered that subject in the first volume that was entitled the Flight of the Afflatus and Meditative Insight across the Urban Storms of Life.
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The second volume was entitled Parallel Solutions and the third and forthcoming volume was to be released as Drone Strikes: Freedom Gone Wrong. Thats why even at Chances home, his concerts and during times of relaxation security was the way it was because of the worlds Illuminati (which went by many names). An enemy was an enemy and that was the only name an enemy deserved. He devoted about three minutes to that waste of time subject, as he referred to it. According to Insubordinates documentary the Illuminati was nothing more than a rehash of the secret societies of old. So what! Whats the purpose of knowing about something and not intelligently battling it? Hit them in the pocket because money and power was their driver and that could best be done by building a parallel system that treats workers like the Costcos of the world but only better. Really help the poor if you want to hurt the Illuminati. In other words, according to Insubordinate, stop fucking whining about the Illuminati you bitches and bastards. Sometimes that guy just wasnt nice. Insubordinate had similar plans for the Summer of 2013. He didnt know it yet but he would be placed on vocal rest by his medical advisors. The alternative would have been vocal surgery, and surgery was something Insubordinate would rarely ever place a bet on. RUI Rumor and Anthony (2013) They were all gathered on the cutting floor at RUI. Chance had asked for a few moments of the entire companys time. Theres a rumor that some of you are sharing and selling our companys designs and methods. Chance was so upset he had to pause but at the same time didnt want to share that counterproductive emotion. Whatever you want to call it, some of you are handing over our secrets directly to our competition. There was silence. Now if Im wrong please slap the crap out of me. But do know that after Im slapped that I will get to the truth and afterwards will punch the person who slapped me right in the nose. Silence with a couple of our boss is crazy low but curbed giggles. And so much about his strategy of trying not to appear upset. Are there any takers? He asked but didnt wait for an answer.

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I will find out who you are but before I do I will give you an unspecified number of hours to quit and leave RUI. After than Im coming after you. Again there was silence as he collected himself. Have a nice day everybody and I apologize to the rest of you who have absolutely no knowledge about this sorry and sad blowup of trust, Chance said as he looked slowly over the crowd of about 350 stakeholders before he turned away and left the cutting floor area and returned to his open office. Those 350 stakeholders would then spread his message throughout the rest of the company with their own twists or takes about the message that was delivered Greed exists no matter what you do. No matter how many cookies from the cookie jar you share there will always be a cookie monster. Those were just some of the thoughts as Chance fumed inside. He calmed down a bit as he thought about Anthony and how Anthony would have encouraged him not to worry. That thought allowed him to remind himself that he was fortunate to have his company and its minor problems at all. He refused to take its success for granted and had long ago anticipated a corrupt act or two. So RUI really had a great run where there was actually a lot of loyalty from the partners to one another and a lot of that could definitely be credited to Anthony and his protocols. Actually this would be a perfect matter for Anthony to intervene in but Chance hadnt seen him in about six days, due mostly to Chances own absence. And other partners at REU had informed Chance that they hadnt seen Anthony in over nearly two weeks. Two weeks was possible but also improbable. Anthony wasnt required to explain his comings and goings. And the only person who could monitor him made no effort to and that was Chance. Chance hadnt exactly been distracted. He just wasnt a micromanager. He counted on the partners to protect themselves from outside threats. Chance had no authoritative problem with any of the partners unless a problem got too far out of hand, like now. Even if there werent a few minor problems, he normally communicated at least every other day with Anthony. But with his fall midterms approaching, his side businesses growing and probably a new lady in his life, along with Chance increasing his training and monitoring regimens, Chance was consciously allowing more slack to be in the entrepreneurial string that bound them together.
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Chance was almost sure that he had at least left Anthony a voicemail, text, email or something in the past few days though. But maybe he didnt but he was sure to do all of the mentioned because it was unlike Anthony to miss a day of work, let alone more than a week.

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CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN New Threat Score Q (2013) Osamas threat score record had been rivaled by the Rug Dealer and was now broken by Quassem Suleimani. He was called Q by Chance because he was on a Quest to spread both financial and political terrorism across the Middle East. Since 1979, Iran has been out flanking first the Soviets and then American expansionism in the Middle East by conducting secret shadow wars against both. Q was an operative of Irans who made Osamas and the Underwear Bombers strategies look like kids plays. Iran was in the business of war and conquering Jerusalem was its primary goal. Q was a senior commander of Irans Quds Force which was an even more elite branch of the elite Revolutionary Guard. Q took his playbook right from the C.I.A.s training, protocol and failsafe manual. He also used Israeli Intelligence strategies against both the Israelis and Americans. The rest Q learned from the playbooks of those two countries years of military abuse and bullying across the Middle Eastern region and other areas of the globe. That playbook was assassination, providing arms to thuggish allies, controlling or influencing drug networks and directing extremists to do what legitimate governments didnt want to be seen doing. And that was mainly blowing up children, women and the elderly. In other words, they didnt want to be recognized as killing non-combatants although they fooled very few on that front. Cruelty passed from one Nation State to another. The real interests were the control of rare minerals, oil, drugs, land and water. It was never just about oil. Whereas Osama and the Rug Dealer werent efficient at raising dormant and well financed sleeper cells of terrorists within Western borders, Q could raise them but didnt because he preferred to kill Americans and other allies of Westerners not merely by the hundreds but by the thousands. Or at least have the ability to do so as a deterrent to an attack on Iran. He considered Osama a poor military strategists and a publicity seeker who could have destroyed even more Americans on their own soil if he werent either of the two. With larger and more sinister plans for greater effectiveness than Osamas 9/11 raid, Q was positioning himself to make sure that fighting continued in Iraq,

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Syria and Afghanistan no matter what the outcome of Western intervention was. Osamas methods fell short of that goal by a lot. Again reaching deep into the playbooks of the C.I.A. and F.B.I., Q had built a network of businesses and political lobbies across the region. Thats why most politically astute organizations opposed regulations of all sorts. And countries whose regulations were lax allowed Qs personal influence to seem to be everywhere and American Intelligence opportunities to counter them without the irregularities of oversight were almost equally present. Although Irans grievances were legit, its targets were often non-combatant. After all Irans top leaders still practiced or supported slavery so the human loss of life wasnt necessarily weighed in humanitarian terms. That made both Q and the Rug Dealer a toss-up priority wise. But unlike Chance those two had recruits in their pipelines. In Chances defense he was a one man operation and that bettered his odds for not being caught by the enemies of his enemy but it was not the most effective way to build a pipeline for recruits.

Concerts (2012) The boys at the Rolling Stone (RS) magazine were at it again, they were openly writing Insubordinate off. His 2012 LP sold only16, 000 copies in the first week and he was having vocal cord problems. But he owned the label and that week alone covered the cost to produce and pay everyone associated with the LP and he was resting his vocal cords not having surgery on them as RS had stated was likely. Loss and success was like snowflakes there were many measurements but no two were exactly alike. Anyhow his fourth of twelve total career LPs only had a first week sell of 6,500 and went onto sell 3.5 million worldwide. Insubordinate played the long game, he wasnt tied into the music machine and just a few Rappers mentioned him if at all. So he knew that his was a slow grind of concerts, shared downloads and word of mouth after the lyrics that were absent of a lot of alcohol, booty and bling caught on with the thinkers and spinners. It was cool because it was all a game that involved money. And since Insubordinate wasnt making them money right out the gate they werent going to turn on the industry that always did. Anyhow, by that years end sales for 2012 had topped 800,000. So put that in your pipe and smoke it since he didnt have that thick middle man called someone elses label to contend with.
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Insubordinate kind of thanked them for low expectations were underground fames ally. And music loving people tended to ride the bandwagon that proved the critics (who werent artist, creative or scientists) wrong since they were never right to begin with. Critics were judges and since Solomon there had not since be a fair and wise judge.

Insubordinate had an actors arsenal of eye rolls, eyebrow switches, low deep and high voice inflections and pauses for a cause of dramatic direction along with a quote or song that left more than a few fully entertained. It was a game and he played it well. He loved to catch them off guard by quoting sweet, grandmotherly Maya Angelous On Working White Liberals. He would put on some dark sunglasses, take on a militant posture like he was posing with NWA and totally switch from the musical vibe and funk fest that had the crowd higher than their drug of choice or whatever else they were sharing. I know why the damned caged bird sings? Hes in a cage and he was put there by Liberals and Libertarians. Insubordinate would almost scream from the stage in his Avery Brooks baritone way. Then he would quote On Working White Liberals. When he did that some in the crowd were stultified. Many in the crowd would be stultified just by that word. But there was always a large contingent of Def Poetry Jam lovers at his concerts who got it immediately and would clap until the stultified herd followed out of ghetto and suburban enacted politeness. Thats what called knowing your audience. He could also inject Gospel into the concert if that spirit moved him. And a third of the White funk and Soul music lovers and others who consistently made up his audience were mostly unapologetic suburbanites who were down with anything that promoted cool or the spread of open love. It was a winning formula that Insubordinate adopted from Dave Chappelle lately and Frankie Beverly of Maze formerly. Both Frankie and Dave would just suspend their artistry and just talk and vibe with their audience. In fact, going to a Maze concert was to experience a happier feeling than could be had in just about any church building, for it was real church, it was real people sharing the respect and need for love. On that level, Insubordinate still had a long way to go. But like Steve Harvey, he was still a work in progress.
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People also shared the respect and need for outrage. And insubordinate had plenty of controlled rage, which he considered Controlled Anger and Deflection. His supporters respected his work and expected an undercurrent of rage when they bought a ticket, CD or downloaded one of his Apps or a YouTube song. Jimmica & Isotope (Early Fall 2013) Since early August of 2013 Jimmica had met weekly with the President, Vice President, the National Security Advisor or all three of them like on this occasion. It was now late September and her team was still in the field testing and looking for clues in an area that was now 30 feet underwater. And her teams updates with her were not well received just as her updates with any of those three executives were not well received. It was Biden who usually re-asked the most obvious questions. Tell me now. How can an area the size of a small city be completely dry one day and underneath water the next day and we not even have satellite imagery of the phenomenon? The Vice President was looking like an ordinary citizen or businessman although he was the Second in Command. Sir. The area had gone from dry to wet in less than 2-minutes and somehow our satellites were blocked without setting off any redflags or otherwise triggering our fail safe protocols, Jimmica answered while trying not to seem annoyed or belittled. The latter the V.P. would rarely intentionally do. Fail, safe. Hmmm. Now, now Joe. Even you admitted that Jimmicas the best person to handle this delicate situation. I know. I know. Sorry Ms. Little. She knew it was bad when the V.P. called her by her last name. And as usual the National Security Advisor Susan Rice just sat by quietly taking mental notes yet wondering how long they could keep this matter under wraps since protocol demanded that certain Intelligence Agencies both domestically and internationally be notified when such a threat was discovered. So really what we have are two vexing issues. Really three.

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The President repeated the two problems already discussed. The third problem was when to bring in the Director of the C.I.A. and F.B.I. Those positions were a revolving door and those Intelligence Agencies were bogged down in counter insurgency and the whole N.S.A. surveillance incident thanks to Snowden. (The President avoided mentioning their tendency to leak information to the Right.) As far as the President was concerned they needed to keep this particular terrorist incident under wraps until they all had a handle on what exactly were going to do about it. The National Security Advisor was in agreement with him about that delay despite the obvious skirting of Executive protocols, which thankfully werent at the level of being illegal by any stretch of interpretation. Any comments or suggestions? the President asked looking at Mrs. Rice. She just shook her head no. The President didnt really expect any for she wouldnt have hesitated to speak up if she had anything to add. So he just encouraged Jimmica to continue doing her best and that she report only to the three of them until further notice, especially if her findings changed in any significant way. The President further stressed that protocols and fail safes had to be adhered to in most instances but also that there seemed to be few protocols for their current predicament. He really couldnt press Jimmica there because the Killer Whales high up in the Intelligence food chain didnt even have a nibble of information. They didnt even have a clue about the latest security threat and that was just as problematic as the threat itself. And what a threat it was. With the comparable height of a 55-story building for 20-square miles, an iceberg doesnt just disappear. The Empire State Building by comparison was a 103-story skyscraper. That meant that even by taking into account the worse global warming model projections icebergs would at worse slowly erode and if eroding quickly would still take a few years or less. Icebergs dont just disappear in a day. It was scientifically impossible and if possible Jimmica was determined that her team found out why. Jimmicas team had actually found something very unusual. It was a previously unknown isotope. But it was too early to share her early findings with the administration until she had more answers herself. But she didnt have a lot of time because she would have to make a decision well before her team returned which was not likely for a week or two. Until then she was keeping the new
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discovery about the isotope to herself and her teams in the field, a move that didnt violate the protocols the President had stressed, yet. She really didnt want to tell any of her superiors about the previously unknown isotope until she could find out more about it. But she knew that she could only keep it undercover for a short period of time, teams were always full of leaks and hers was no exception. The leaks came from those who tried to force their way up the food chain by snitching on a superior should they catch them slipping. Jimmica had no intention of slipping.

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CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT Mya and Chance at Atlanta Hawks Game (Early Fall 2013) She and Chance were at the Atlanta Hawks game. She was happy to finally be out on a day long date with him and him with her. He was also happy that the Hawks were playing the Detroit Pistons who had acquired the forward Josh Smith who just last year played for the Hawks. The arena was both noisy and airy. Every once in a while the DJ would fill the airy space with thumping music during a break in play. That would set Mya and Chance into a groove. She smiled which made her look even prettier and younger. Mya said something. What? Chance asked her over the music. I said isnt that TI over there? She was pointing. He was looking to trace the point. Oh, yeah. And thats his wife and kids. I didnt know he had kids. What? She yelled a repeat of the question and Chance yelled back. Yeah, hes more of a family man than most. It had always amazed Chance about the huge number of people who wore boots in Georgia. He happily didnt even own a pair, outside of military boots. This wasnt Michigan where boots were a mandatory part of the wardrobe. In Georgia boots were for fashion in 75 degree weather, which could extend right on from October through January and pop up even higher during any supposed Winter month. You sure you dont want anything? She leaned in, What? Chance yelled his repeated question and was smiling and grooving too along with the crowd of both young and old, Black and White.
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Im saving my appetite for later. Chance had promised her that she could eat whatever and wherever she wanted to after the game. Her birthday had just past but it was during the middle of the week and they had decided to celebrate it during the weekend. Anyhow, she hadnt been to Atlanta since high school so she was hyped up. Or was it geeked?

Chance almost didnt recognize her. It was during the half-time of the Atlanta Hawks game. She was with a WNBA player that he did recognize. The player was dressed in masculinity almost from head to toe, as Mya would later comment at dinner. Dr. Doll was wearing a back zipped dress that was made to fit tightly but a woman had to have the feminine goods to press the fabric to its designed stretch for form fitting. Judging by the number of male eyes that were laser focused on the way her dress moved with her, the woman and the dress had trapped them in the moment. No one seemed to be looking at her friend, date? She was tall, thin, small breasted and her manly hairstyle undoubtedly appealed to someone. She didnt smile or in any way seem friendly. Dr. Doll didnt even bother introducing her. Mya noticed that she called him Chance and not Insubordinate like most of his fans and people outside of Valdosta did. Oh, this must be your daughter, Dr. Doll said now standing in front of Mya and Chance, giving the men a great look while her friend or date continued on to her seat. Mya had just turned 27, so Dr. Doll was exaggerating the situation a little although Mya could pass for 20 or 22 and she was often carded by party stores whose cashiers were probably just trying to hit on her through the indirect or direct complement of you look much younger than 26. That also happened to be true.

I have two daughters and neither of them is here, Chance gave his canned response in a more sarcastic manner than he had intended. Mya this is Ms. Doll, Ms. Doll, Mya. He had a fake smile and so did she as she extended her hand for a shake.
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Dont be so formal. Hi, Im Carol. Nice to meet you. Just then it came over the PA system that half-time was over and that the game was about to resume. That announcement came as a relief. Oh my. The games about to restart. Well it was nice seeing you again. Dont be a stranger. Call sometime, we can do lunch. They both still had a fake smile. It was nice meeting you Myrah. Enjoy the game you two, Dr. Doll said as she exaggerated her walk down the aisle where the female basketball player sat, clearly unhappy or something close to it. Mya didnt even bother correcting her and was glad her phony butt was moseying on along. Mya did check to see if Chances eyes were following any part of her in that dress. He was looking out at the court and was glad that Detroits Josh Smith had got the ball on a fast break and dunked it. Chance quickly got back into the game and Mya decided that she wasnt going to let anything spoil her celebration, especially that fake doctor woman; whoever she was.

Aside for it being Myas birthday weekend Chance was trying to cram in as much quality time with her as he could. Another stretch of absence from Georgia was approaching quickly as his other duties were pressing for more attention. He was sure that she wanted more from him. She didnt know that he was about to be able to give less and he wasnt sure how he could explain that to her without seeming like a butt hole. New Threat Score Q (2013) Without a doubt Q was a master spy of life imitating art right from the pages of a John le Carre novel. Qs death would be like an earthquake whose ripples would yield death in a circular fashion and just as indiscriminately. He gave Chance pause and was one of two assignments that the Unknown Committee designated as requiring a team effort. The other assignment involved hitting Iran directly.

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Chance didnt work in teams. He also wanted to wreck Hezbollah, Iran and Irans mastermind and network builder of assassins Q. Chance didnt yet have an idea about how he might accomplish all of that before his 2016 retirement date. It was looking more and more like his replacement would have just as full of a plate of targets as he had when he first signed on. But he was determined that the Rug Dealer would be one that might not be on the plate when Chances retirement date finally did arrive. That goal now was like eating dessert first with Q being a full meal. And Chance was raised to believe that was a counterproductive way to enjoy a meal.

Regimes of terrorism like Police Intelligence were made of basic components. Those components were finance, politics, sabotage, Intelligence, Special Forces and operations. Many of those regimes operatives moved around as construction workers and easily got beyond the gates of Americas contractors who had to hire locals and whose security measures always started strong and weakened once the contract money started to roll in and the locals were trained and took over vital aspects of its administrative and security management. Unfortunately, many of the hires werent even local or construction workers. And since American operatives and its contractors had been lying to the ordinary people of those countries for centuries, the locals had no problem lying to the Americans about their true loyalties; which involved not identifying all of those who werent local or a construction worker. The truth was that more than a few were from the Quds Force, Irans Special Forces which Q directed with the blessing of Irans Supreme Leader who was the real leader of Iran. Those construction workers were present not to build or learn a new skill, they were present to spy and to look for the biggest and most effective opportunities to maim and kill. Chance had to thank the Israelis for the greater depths of his education about Iran since the overthrow of the Shah back in the 1970s. Chance since the year 2000 privately read the Israeli newspaper Israel Hayom. That paper regularly dissected Irans field operations. It also documented the fact that they and Americans were fighting American trained and armed forces. To further craziness, the old American Embassy in Iran was Qs military headquarters. And Q described the battlefield as paradise. Who doesnt want paradise?
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Q traveled a lot and he was far from untouchable. It was almost like he was daring the Intelligence community to arrest him. If they did arrest him, Chance believed, missiles would rain down on Israel, suicide bombers would hit multiple Western targets that were full of tourists, multiple oil fields would burn, kidnappings would spike and ransoms would not be asked for but videos of executions would be boastful and widely shared, fully fueled passenger planes would fall from the sky and buildings packed with people would fall along with them. And all of that would occur just during the first week of Qs arrest or death.

Q could also be reached out to and touched through actions taken against his lieutenants and children, many of whom lived outside of Iran in places like Indonesia and Malaysia. But American operatives have children and lieutenants too who lived in places like Britain, France and Japan who were just as equally vulnerable. Just as Chance would have it, those non-combatants (lieutenants aside) were off limits as targets. America might even manufacture a reason to use nuclear weapons under those circumstances unless some crippling demands were met. So on that point, neither side was extremely foolish. But that applied to only the wellconnected who could retaliate in kind and on the same level. That threat kept that level of peace intact for the most part. Even loosely networked assassins and pirates knew not to shoot the wife or children of a target. It was sort of like honor amongst terrorists and counter terrorists. Only both of those thieves stole from the natural processes of life and liberty. Places like New Delhi, Thailand, Lagos and Nairobi were constantly being probed and expanded into by Qs networks and Western operatives. The smart natives their trusted neither of them, because both sides were merely the offspring from the good old boy networks of slavery. So it was not surprising that North Africa had been under constant assault long before Q was even born. Since Qs rise to power he had even contracted Mexican drug cartels to plot against targets that were just a few miles from the White House. But President Obama was no President Bush and even Q knew that retaliation against the wrong target would result in overkill. And as far as President Obama was concerned the wrong target was any target on Americas soil. Q was no fool. Q was practical.

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Qassem Suleimani needed to pass away violently if only to slow down and disrupt Irans reach and network for shadow wars. Most Americans didnt even know that Iran was Americas number one enemy. Iran was also positioned to hit the restart button for another World War. That potential for war, not their nuclear quest, was what Western Police Intelligence was really trying to discontinue. And the Halliburton and Koch machines of America wanted to open the lid on that can of worms and all for profit. Again and even for the Halliburton and Koch machines it was all about the control of rare minerals, oil, drugs, land and water. And if that was as true as Chance believed it was then both America, Israel and Iran argued about everything except their real motivations. Scatter Blocker (2013) Scatter from a monitored conversation was how information thieves attained some of their Intelligence. Theyd illuminate someone who was speaking with an infrared laser and then the special electronic equipment they had would pick up the scatter or words from their location and hear that entire conversation clearly. Although no agency was officially eaves dropping on him Chance was usually wearing scatter blocking clothes when he was out in the public but not usually when he was on a date. The scatter blockers could be a vest, a sleeve, shirt or just about any combination of clothing to include compression socks. The waves from the infrared laser would be funneled to the blocker, where the light beam would be absorbed and Chance would in turn be alerted by a constant vibration that someone was listening to him or someone else who was nearby. He usually blocked those prying lasers by accident, especially when he was in a high class restaurant where some of the people who deserved monitoring hung out. In such a situation, he would have to leave because turning off the blocker was against protocol for a reason. And whoever was listening would likely think that their laser listening equipment was malfunctioning as most instruments that were computerized tended to occasionally do. By that time Chance would be long gone and then all of a sudden they would be able to hear and believe that whatever they had done to fix the supposed malfunction was the reason why.

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CHAPTER TWENTY NINE Smelly Underwear (Early Fall 2013) Mya had spent the night after they left from Atlanta after having seen the Hawks win and after having enjoyed her birthday meal. She burst into the bedroom and unexpectedly caught him holding up and smelling a pair of his underwear. Oooh, thats so nasty. Shit embarrassing, he thought. The underwear was on the floor and he wasnt sure if they were clean or not so he was giving them the old smell test. Verdict? Unclean, the same ones he wore to the game in Atlanta. All he did was look up and smile and rushed into the bathroom without a word, carrying the dirty drawers with him almost like a bitch from the point of view of men who too were only temporarily or as needed tough. Rug Dealer (2013) If he told someone that his diabetes was out of control or that he had two previous heart attacks, they wouldnt be surprised. Neither was true when he wheezed as he chained smoked between talking. He had round, soft shoulders and a belly to match. His belly would occasionally un-tuck his shirt when he coughed, faked a hard laugh or stood up after falling into a chair instead of sitting in it. Most of his comments were profane and cruel but to him they were credible and useful insights about the true nature of the human character. He read people through the lens of the mental smoke called despair and distrust. But he had hope, he hoped for the best way to control others while doing the least harm to himself as he gained that control. Should we ever find peace or beauty in not getting what we want wouldnt that be very healthy? Chance was warring inside against what the Rug Dealer represented. According to even the most conservative assessments he deserved to die but Chance didnt need to expose himself or his networks techniques and capabilities while doing so. The latter was reserved for stubborn governments who acted in the opposite interests of its citizens. Both the F.B.I. and C.I.A. were monitoring the Rug Dealer and there was no telling who else when he traveled around the world pretending to be a rug merchant.
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Chance could take him out as a sniper or up close and impersonal but he might be forced to confront Americans by the later and further expose his presence to middle agents by the former. He didn't particularly like either or situations. They were limiting and usually had the makings for the trouble that was often associated with unplanned disasters. So far he was only known within a small part of the Intelligence community as being a more credible threat than Anonymous technologically. Only a handful of Intelligence operatives knew that he was both a national and international security threat. And even those with that knowledge didnt know that he was an active assassin of terrorists. Trons Inspirer (mid-1988) Tron was a hard drinker who pretended not to drink. He was beer-bellied, with a limp from an ass-kicking sustained during his service in the Navy. Picture a face with Saint Bernard jaws, a wide Africanized nose that was pointed up and allowed a frontal view of wide open nostrils, and libber lips that were always moist with uncontrolled slobber and you would have seen Tron on one of his best days. Tron owned a community newspaper called the Flint Inspirer but he lived off of a military pension and social security for disability. He also lived in a pretty nice four bedroom home. Chance would come to think that he probably poisoned his frail mother in order to expedite her death so that he could live in that forced inheritance which was her home. Chance was close to graduating from college so he worked for Tron on a part-time basis. There he laid-out the paper and sold ads. The latter was a tough job because the paper was full of typos and misalignments that ad buyers liked to point out before Chance took over the layout of the paper too. Of course Chance was there for a purely mission oriented reason. He was going through college and for the purposes of receiving financial aid he needed an underpaying job as cover in order to qualify for that need. In reality Chance was an off the grid thousand-naire throughout the late 1970s and late-1980s. He had lots of cash stashed away from White-mailing racist Northern cops who had a Southern strategy agenda, lots of cash from appropriating funds from human right violating drug dealers along with contract killings of terrorists. Well, the later was what threw him into the millionaire grouping in the 1990s; that and the rapid rise of his underground to mainstream Rap career.

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It was that grouping that allowed him to legally funnel the illegal gains to the U.S. mafia that many called the IRS by purchasing thousands of his own CDs and using them as concert giveaways. But a few years before he got there his main reason for selling ads was that most of the businesses in the Hood were foreign owned. Chance was pretending to sell them ads and collect grocery circulars to insert in the Inspirer so that he could also bug their establishments. This was before the era of wireless tapping and scatter collecting technology. He was also able to trace the flow of the foreign business overseas money transfers. The money usually first went to a nice aunt or grandpa and then from there on to a terrorist linked uncle or nephew in Pakistan, Syria and other Western hating countries. Also as a college student Chance could go on study abroad programs or just 10-day Sister City College tours. During short Sister City visits he could develop legitimate and sometimes develop real and lasting relationships with non-terroristic Islamists and especially the Arab secularists who loved Hip Hop, Rap, R&B and McDonalds. But that strategy soon became a crap shoot for American kidnappings. Even Jesse Jackson would have to get in the act and negotiate the release of kidnapped Americans. The mess caused by the Iran/Contra scandals of the mid-1980s would even to this day be cause for both cold and hot war efforts on Islamist terrorism and worldwide hatred of American interference with Arab States. By that time though Chance had many years earlier completed his three and half years of paramilitary and Counter Intelligence training with the Unknown Committee. And in less than two years after that he had successfully completed over twenty three missions. That was a crazy number but foreign prejudice and misperceptions then and now enabled him to do more than what was reasonably normal. No one then or now expected or suspected a Black, twenty-something college student to be fluent in Arabic and be better trained than most of the U.S. militarys elite unit forces. And since he was often surrounded by White American college students, the camouflage provided by a wider web of prejudice was even more secure. To this day he would laugh to himself at how Arabic youth would bash and trash him and the White students in their native language. Once finished with their side stabbing fun they would then speak in clear English to get money or alms from the White guys and girls that they had just, while smiling, called some form
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of infidel, devil or Western whore. Monkey and ape was reserved exclusively for Chances Blackness. That part they must have picked up from Americans. RUI-Cheaters (Early Fall 2013) The turncoats, cheaters and company moles had been found. Chance had planted some actual designs of interest to the competition and had placed cameras around them and tracking devices in them. He not only had the culprits on camera but he also had audio and a digital map that tracked the final resting place of the stolen materials. The planted designs were with the competition, a well-known and respected fashion house. They were probably paying the thieves a little more than RUI was now but were sure to dump the thieves once Chance sent them the evidence he possessed. It was a husband and wife team. They were both failing to scale up their design business and were not far from still being at the training phase of their enterprise even though they had been with the company for over a year. He learned later that many of the seamsters refused to work with them. The partners hadnt fired them because they did just enough of the grunt work to hang onto their job but where not hustlers and treated the company like it was a nine to five job. They were hourly partners and that itself should have been a red flag to either Chance or Anthony. The guilty partners were Tyrone and his wife Lakesha. Naomi and Arvella, the two seamsters and partners on the 1970s collection had turned out to be right. Chance had privately asked them who might collaborate with the competition and they both immediately indicated those two. I never trusted either of them anyway, Arvella said after Chance let her and Namoi know that their instincts were accurate about the husband and wife team. Even though many of them were partners Chance still equated seamsters to assemblers. It was just a matter of a moment of opportunity for some before the assembler shared the design, innovation and processes of any company with another. Of course they would be nudged into that course of action. Thats how many copycats were born and also how many products were improved. Chance considered RUI to be a strong part of the improvement process for access and design. Handling moles were just another part of strategic planning and an unintended compliment and assurance from the competition that they felt either

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threatened or were acknowledging that RUI was gaining a market share by expanding a market that would have otherwise been left void of expansion. Regardless Anthony and Chance had both been lax since so many of the partners were doing well and it was their sole job to protect their designs and other intellectual interests. RUI was more like a machine; it just kept on pushing out products and growing. There just didnt seem to be anything to be concerned about internally until now. Chance personally fired them both and gave them an extra months pay just in case they tried to spread false rumors about the company. Now that would have been stupid since he probably could have had them arrested for theft and definitely could have sued them into bankruptcy. It had been over a week since their termination and no one even mentioned being surprised by their absence.

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CHAPTER THIRTY Al-Qaeda Franchise In Yemen during the year 2012, people, especially soldiers, chewed khat, a mild narcotic. In Southern Yemen the town of Zinjibar was held and then retaken from al-Qaeda by Yemini soldiers. No doubt Yemen was aided by their neighbor Saudi Arabia and U.S. Special Operation troops, since Saudi Arabia had always been the real target of al-Qaeda. Osama bin Ladens franchise terrorist organization was al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula or AQAP. The franchise thrived from a pipe-line of suicide bombers and the overall illusion of having a great number of fighters. They targeted Central Security Forces but the deaths of civilians were always their clear aim. That was where fear spread thickest, quickest and was nearly unmovable. AQAP had to use fear because they werent a military operation they were instead thugs with military ambitions. The al-Qaeda franchise was possibly the worlds largest organized gang. They dealt in gang rape, pillage (looting), human trafficking, drugs, weapons, money laundering and all the other classic business practices of organized crime syndicates. Why they were not treated and target as a gang was because they had sold themselves as terrorist and the world bought it. Organized and disorganized criminals terrorized but they were still classified and tracked as gangs. Terrorist was a political designation but did the tactics have to be? The al-Qaeda franchise would best be decimated by locking up its foot soldiers and recruits for the gang crimes that they commit openly. Hit them with a zero tolerance street crime policy. It wouldnt stop the crime but it would decimate recruitment, Chance believed. There was little hope in a gang destruction strategy since the U.S. police Intelligence groups had struck a hands off-policy with Afghan and other drugs lords, who were at the root cause of all of the other gang related problems; namely recruitment. Due to military strategists that tool was effectively off the table. It was all just another example of the slow and poorly played initial and followthrough Intelligence of America and its allies. Their pattern continued to be getting a little or a lot of wrong in the beginning and then clean it up later when the fallout made it all undeniable and clear.

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It worked to some extent but to a great cost in unnecessary human suffering, which America would constantly apologize for and swear to have empathy with. Basement and the Rug Dealer (2013) The Rug Dealer was real bold in the U.S. Chance was almost able to effectively monitor him from his basement through the combination of Google Maps along with hacked bank and traffic cameras. He seemed to take absolutely no security precautions outside of having an entourage of bodyguards. Chance guessed that the Rug Dealer thought it senseless since he was literally down the street from several Intelligence agencies. There was still no news on the status of the allegedly hurt Underwear Bomber or better still if he were dead since his Threat Score was 85 and climbing. So Chance was a little more focused on the Rug Dealer now that he planned on visiting him in 2014. The Rug Dealer would be one of the few missions where Chance wouldnt be there to extract information before the kill. He knew all that he needed to know about this particular target, or so he thought. Now although al-Quaeda had its franchise operations the mom and pop operations were very harmful to the regular community folks that the Taliban and others operated within. There were no clear cut rules with the mom and pops or the franchises and most of them didnt even read the Koran that they were trying to enforce. They took their instructions from religious and military leaders and studied weapons more than anything.

Trons Inspirer (1988) There were actual whores all around the Inspirer who were like vampires, there were few sightings of whores during the day but plenty of activity from them as soon as the sun became a reddish-orange glow and the liqueur stores started to be frequented. Despite all of that, the cover provided by working at the Inspirer was ideal until Chance had stumbled upon Tron in a despicable act. Chance had a key to the building and worked at the paper during odd hours. He and Joan were actually living together as they would, off and on, for nearly 33 years. It was a weekend and Chance usually spent his weekends with Joan but she was spending the night at her mothers since her sister from California was in town visiting.

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It was strange right from the start when Chance parked and saw a bicycle lying out front by the office door and Trons Ford Taurus parked near it. If Tron was working there were no lights on in the layout area of the paper. Chance killed the headlights before he parked on the side of the building. It was well lit and his car could be seen from the computer and lay-out table inside. So caught up in his hunchback of Notre Dame sexually parasitic delight for unripen fruit, Tron didnt notice Chance until he had fully entered the office. By then Chance had already clearly overhead Tron making the promise of a new bike and the nervous giggle of a girl when Tron asked what kind of soda she wanted. They were clearly heading to the back of the office where Trons desk was on one side and a bedroom on the other. Chances flipping on the front office light caught both of their attention. She was probably a little older but looked twelve, and with the calmness of an assassin Chance told her to go home. Tron, who usually had something mean or ornery to say, said nothing. Chance guessed that his looking uglier and even more like the human head of a Saint Bernard was his best expression of embarrassment and inner panic. Without a word Chance shook his head, stared at Tron, pulled the office key from his key chain and tossed it at Tron before returning to his car. That was a defiant act because everyone knew that Tron had just shot RayRay, who was Chances moms married boyfriend. RayRay had been trying to play with two of Chances aunts and a cousin. The aunt and cousin had tricked RayRa y out of most of his tax return money and he was shot in the belly for trying to strong arm the collection. The problem for RayRay was that one of the aunts, DeeDee, was now Trons live in housemaid and sex slave when he could get it up, which anothers pain and abuse probably helped. So since RayRay could have easily beat Tron, Tron shot RayRay who was foolish enough to be inside Trons house talking smack about what he was going to do to collect his money. Although shot in the stomach RayRay was able to drive himself to the hospitable where he claimed not to know who the shooter was and the police investigation, like usual, ended with the initial interview.

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CHAPTER THIRTY ONE Anonymous Foreign Software Translation Chance really had no other plans for the use of the Exposed or Anonymous Foreign Translation software other than to get foreign owners of businesses in the neighbor to mind their language. It was a throwback to his college days when he would go abroad and be disrespected by the youth and adults there who would then seek something that Americans most likely had and they did not. Furthermore, disrespect for urban shoppers was rampant and had always pissed Trudy off, who wouldnt hesitate to let them know that she understood what ape or whore was in Arabic. Now the thugs or homies wanted an even more updated version of the Exposed software, only they now wanted Chinese and Korean. They had put the word out on the street knowing that it would reach their anonymous software sharer. Obviously others who also had the code couldn't or wouldnt figure out how to honor their request. There were at least over 6,500 foreign languages. The street thugs didnt realize that what they were asking for wasnt anywhere near a simple task as it seemed. Most of the 6,500 foreign languages were strains of or offshoots of Arabic, Latin American, French, Russian and Italian dialects. Those were just some of the most commonly used foreign languages in American corporate and governmental spying. Now the thugs wanted Chinese for which there were six different official languages alone recognized by the United Nations and who knows how many more were recognized by the government and the people themselves. It was not as simple a task as was maybe supposed by them. Despite all of that there werent any Chinese or Korean terrorists who were excited about flying planes into American commercial buildings, shooting schools full of children, massacring humanitarian AID workers or mowing down malls full of shoppers. Both the Chinese and Koreans were a competitive threat with the operative word being competitive. Chance hadnt even thought about the Translation software. His foreign tendencies were mission specific. Speaking of mission, Chance was suspicious of their request and made a point to find out more.

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His little investigation led to a sorry discovery. The thugs were blackmailing respected Arabs and Indians who were living a double life but who were willing to pay hush money. So now they wanted to hit up the Asian community. What they didnt know was that Chance could remotely disable all thirteen foreign translators that were in circulation, with a kill switch, and that was exactly what he did. What they were doing would certainly draw the attention of the F.B.I. and that was just something that Chance didnt ever need. That disabling move angered the other twelve loosely linked coalitions of gangstas, thugs and homies. Oh well, as usual the suppressed people themselves messed up a good thing. Trons Inspirer (1988) Chances aunt, like most of the women in his family, was generous and the nicest of women. DeeDee was the nicest woman whom hed could never recall having a nice man. They were all either an alcoholic, in another way drug addicted, a beater just to be beating or a verbal abuser who used her imagined nagging as an excuse for womanizing. She was naturally pretty, never drank or did drugs and her relationships usually lasted for five or more years. The men were all handsome and snaked their way into DeeDees life and Chances family by the sober quality of being hard working gentleman who overly respected Chances grandma and grandpa. All of DeeDees men did, except for Tron who got DeeDee once she became an overused woman, whose front teeth were missing but the rest of the natural prettiness in her look and attitude was still there. And she was the one who had recommended Chance to Tron for work at the Inspirer. After explaining to Joan over the phone what had happened that night, the next day Chance wrote a letter of resignation and gave a copy to the other three employees there. He didnt give a copy to Tron. The resignation letter described in detail the attempted statutory rape. Two of the employees who moonlighted at the Inspirer were from the Flint Urinal and after reading Chances resignation letter soon quit the Inspirer. The other employee was an elderly lady who couldnt sell ads, type or layout the paper but she was a good punching bag for Tron. He verbally abused her for being unable to do either of the three. She stayed. She was a church going Christian woman. Maybe it was an act of forgiveness. Maybe it was an act of fear or dependence.
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Whatever it was for her after that incident Chance was even more of an academic and killing machine. He studied his enemies relentlessly and killed with each and every opportunity. His odd comings and goings were also messing with his and Joans relationship with the strength of youthful love, sex, shopping money and paid bills being the primary glue that held them together. They were almost total opposites: the over-serious and moderately serious, the greedy reader and occasional reader, the political and almost apolitical living together but thinking apart. Chance would for a long time feel empty due to the unfilled space that she at least partially filled. But when he was writing, Rapping, hunting and killing horrible terrorists that void was lessened on an appreciative level. At least it was appreciated or lessened until the power of a womans touch was wanted or needed. He would come to miss being with Joan a lot. They broke up again soon after he graduated from college. He never missed destroying terrorists and he never intended to graduate from that.

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CHAPTER THIRTY TWO Post Tron and Inspirer (1988) Chance was just about to graduate from college right after he abruptly resigned from the Flint Inspirer. He wasnt becoming the Medical doctor that Joan always wanted him to be. Instead he was a Public Health Researcher. Of course college was purely mission oriented. He was there so that he could legitimately use the student foreign exchange programs to build contacts, perfect his surveillance techniques, and record the natural language and customs of the normal people in the Middle Eastern countries that he visited. For the first five years after he graduated from his training he was killing and learning on the fly. When a terrorist was planning to blow up a market while he was abroad, unlike the C.I.A. Chance didnt have to sit back and monitor the suicide bomber or maker just to see how high up the food chain either of the two would take them. Chance kill targets were the human equivalent and mix of minnows, carps and sharks. Those targets were indiscriminately chosen early on; that was until he came up with an assessment scale. The assessment scale allowed him to target the human comparison of Great White Sharks and Killer Whales. When he was in his first year of college he didnt wait for much of anything. Although it was a vital part of his training, the value of waiting wouldnt really hit him until later. It was a value that he would come to use both abroad and locally, as waiting also involved allowing the prejudices to pile up and defenses to weaken or expose cracks. But the Tron presented nothing to wait for and Chance had literally exhausted all of the needs he had for that despicable man his company anyhow. More than a crack had opened there. Once again he had obviously waited long enough and he didnt even know it until the time presented itself.

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CHAPTER THIRTY THREE Washington D.C. Concert It was a go. (Early Fall 2013)

Hi dad. Its on, Trudy said with her surprise phone call that was actually answered on the second ring. Hey daughter, whats on? The mansion silly. We got it for three weeks. I only need it for three days. I know. So what do you plan to do with it. Dad. Daughter. They both laughed and knew that the circle of probe and evasion could go on for a long time with no resolution other than slipping into the direction of lying and deception. It wasnt that serious. She updated him on Taylor and how they both were just breezing through school. Got to get that paper, she needlessly reminded Chance of his own words. Trudy and Taylor both loved that Chance taught them at an early age about early course preparation. There was no cramming in their family. They were a family that was ready for chapter twelve as soon as they walked into the classroom and stayed ahead of the class out of habit.

The concert was scheduled for July 26, 2014. That date fit well into his farewell tour and exit plan for early 2016. It also fit well into his plans to target the Rug Dealer, as U.S. drone strikes were allowing Chance to cross off more than a few terrorist leaders from his list of targets. And to their credit, U.S. Intelligence was doing it without too much of his help. Jimmica who did help from time to time was trying to find any shred of evidence that might lead to her known information supplier. She too had to know if it was an internal source, a friend or foe. Chance expected nothing less from her.
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He rightly suspected that the President and Vice President were applying the pressure. Regardless of what they did, Chance had another pressing concern. He got a short typo-filled e-mail from Anthony that stated that he was okay and that he needed a little more time off to deal with some personal matters. To Chance that meant that he was not okay and Chance had every intention of both locating Anthony for some personal face-to-face time and to also discuss the RUI moles that had been found.

It was three and half weeks before the Thanksgiving College break. That meant that Anthonys mid-terms were approaching. Chance checked in with Anthonys instructors who directed him to College Admissions who advised Chance that Anthony had dropped his four courses. His drops came as much of shock to them as it had to Chance. The Admission Officer unofficially informed Chance that Anthony had three A grades and one B plus or A minus for sure if he nailed his mid-terms as was expected. Chance thanked the officer and knew what he had to do. Anthonys Mother (Early Fall 2013) Anthony didnt talk about his mom at all and now Chance understood why. If she wasnt Hispanic she would have been considered a manipulative, filthy mouthed White-trash, or Black-ghetto and quite bad mom. She was a pill-popping and Wild Turkey whiskey drinker. Wild Turkey wasnt exactly cheap but it gave a big bang for the buck and came in big bottles. When she greeted Chance at the door of her one room home that was in serious disrepair, he turned sideways as her breath was horrible. He saw the OxyContin in her medicine cabinet about an hour after hed been in her stuffy home. It was also Rush Limbaughs favorite drug, which explained her bouts with crazy talk. Chance waited there patiently as she ranted one minute and then switched over to how wonderful a son Anthony was. Chance was having a hard time getting the full story from her. But part of the story was that he was helping his sister. Anthonys mom referred to her as his half-bastard sister. Thats when she also broke into a long story about how Anthonys dad cheated on her with half of
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the women in her family and had the bastard-sister with her younger sister. It was a serious soap opera Chance thought but just listened to without comment. Anthonys little brother broke her hour and half long circle of venting when he walked in. He too was looking for Anthony, only he was looking frantic as he said it. Chance was finally able to get him outside and away from his mother who was steady kicking back drinks and declaring her love for her boys. It was clear that at one time she was an attractive woman. Both of her boys were male model handsome. Her youngest son was Marcus. Marcus was sixteen and quickly told Chance about how Anthony had a gun and was trying to rescue his sister from a gang. The gang it turned out was actually dope dealers from their fathers side of the family. Looked like Anthonys dad was in prison but had skipped out of town first with a couple of kilos of the dealers cocaine and they wanted their dope, money or both with interest. They were holding their own relative and were threatening to sell her and a few others in their family if the debt wasnt paid. In all they were looking for $75,000s. Marcus was losing it and talked about how they always beat up and shot people. Chance would later believe more than that later once he learned that they were connected to the Sinaloa Cartel, a Mexican cartel from whom they were taking orders. Chances first order of business was to find Anthony and prevent him from being killed or sold.

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CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR Self-Destruct E-mail (Early Fall 2013) Almost a year later Congress was finally starting to talk more openly about the threat of wireless sabotaging of manufactured products. It probably had something to do with the e-mail that Chance sent Jimmica that terrorists were targeting the heart implant the former Vice President Dick Cheney was wearing. Chance despised Cheney but he knew they wouldnt be able to keep that news underwrap. Yep, it was getting so bad that the political gangsta Dick Cheney, you know the one who shot a friend in the face accidentally while hunting. That shot was a tool of persuasion, no doubt. Now that gangsta was running like a little bitch to Homeland Security in fear of being assassinated through his pace maker by Freedom Fighters. Cheney was no fighter for wider freedoms except the freedom to limit certain freedoms of the 99% classes and classless. He was a wanted man and could not travel abroad because he was wanted for crimes against humanity. It was all too unreal to be true. Now the Intelligence community was looking for an Eric Snowden copycat coupled with Anonymous or internal Counter Intelligence Security operative as the possible source of the initial revelation about Cheney. They were in essence calling for a search for a non-existing mole. Whatever, Chance thought along with his quick dismissal of Intelligence Communitys false reasons of denial about the latest international terroristic threat. So long as the threat was taken seriously, which it now was since the press was starting to run stories about it also. No doubt due to the leaks of Snowden, the press thought. Dayton Family & Walled Streets (Late 1990s) In terms of space Insubordinate was a continent or more away from being the hardest or most gritty Rapper to come from Flint. That undisputed title was held by the Dayton Family. The Dayton Family was Gangsta Rappers who lyrically told true life stories about the toughness of Flints streets. Flint was so tough that even a few heavy weight boxers were either robbed or local fighters called punks and an embarrassment when they were watched fighting on HBO, and that was after they won the match. One heavy weight boxer
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came to Flint to celebrate his Championship win and left without his gold teeth and chains. His body guards were robbed too. That was what the Heavy Weight Champion got for talking trash, as Flintstones usually roll out the red carpet for outsiders who readily realized that respect was in their best interest and the only credible line of defense. If the Dayton Family didnt hate you or high five you in one of their songs then you were literally dismissed and definitely soft. It also meant that you were probably far from the radar of hard and what it meant to be ruling or influencing the streets of Flint. Resilient with a lot of Detroits aggressiveness and Sag-nasty (a term of endearment for Saginaw Citys) roughness was what defined Flints pot hole filled streets. Dont ever quit, dont ever give up and definitely dont ever give a damn about what someone else with the wrong authority think or thought about you and yours. Hell in Flint gangs fought during heightened police presence just to spite it. And no lone police officer detained anyone except by luck. Corporate authority was despised in Flint and was part of the reason that police now needed paramilitary training and when it came right down to it, that wasnt enough since their gear wasnt fire or bomb proof. And they were always outnumbered and always outgunned. The number of guns on the other side was one of the few things that the police authorities didnt lie about. Flint was hard as steel when Chance was growing up. Now it was hard as graphene, which meant that Flint was so hard that even the people in the streets didnt know what they were made of. They just knew that being or staying poor wasnt in the cards, even if that was the hand that was being dealt. Shoot most of Flints youth considered the Dayton Family soft, and all the Dayton Family had done was shoot, deal and terrorize a whole section of the city to protect its familys reputation and interests. Now in semi-retirement from gangbanging, the Dayton Familys lyrics unearthed a world that seemed very recognizable to the international and global community of Hoods and trailer-Hoods. Almost everyone in Flint and as far away as Palestine knew someone whod been shot or who had one hole or more in their body from a misunderstood shooter. Like in a lot of places, Flints killers were killing an enemy while they themselves had an absence of a purpose about saving a way of life that was beyond the here and now.

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Jealousy, envy and other deadly sins where called deadly for a reason; all of those sins were about the here and now and neither of them were about saving a way of life beyond that. The Bible and other religious texts warned many still some people remain amazed and surprised by what comes from the sewers of even the finest people or minds. The Wretched of the Earth was truly multicultural and entitlements were usually what people were rightfully entitled too but through a political marketing campaign were unrightfully denied, which was the root of the deadly sins and a reason for Dayton Families all across America. Still Flint, Detroit and Sag-nasty were all full of love. All three cities have many more deep pockets of peace and love, many more of those pockets than the infamous spreads of hate that make the news because of the nature of its viciousness. If those cities were compared to a clothed man, it would be like the shirt pocket containing the violence and the rest of the four pant pockets carrying the peace and people who worked to avoid the violence or move its reasons away. Violence was somewhat like the Tea Party, violent people were a minority making majority moves and noise. They were a minority that worked only to disrupt the majority. They were a minority that ruled with neither the right rules nor the right to rule. But unlike criminally violent people, the Tea Party was mostly about killing or destroying their neighbor and other fellow Americans with a shady but declared presence about saving or preserving a way of life. And with that argument, the goals of the Dayton Family seemed to make more sense. However, since the Dayton Family was the Me Me Me Party, the F.B.I. and other initialed State sponsored gangs moved in. With that it was goodbye to an intact Dayton Family and their rule of Dayton Street. Yet that change brought no welcoming hello to better rules or rulers up or down the Martin Luther King Boulevard that Dayton Street crossed. That reality had a strong possibility for a chance to change once Chance retired Insubordinate. That retirement would also mean that a whole lot of people in the wrong authority would die if they tried to stop the Us Us and Them Party that Chance was strongly considering creating as a retirement prize. Remember he had leverage; he could melt all the ice in Sarah Palins cold Alaska. Although his love for Hawaii, which would be removed from the planet, was a serious pause for the cause not to mention a terrorist act more heinous than any exercised by the Taliban and alQaeda to date. But say something similar happened without the casualty of death, his demand would be simply this: an Economic Wall Street on every Martin Luther King Boulevard in America with the political clout to keep the oppositions
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reasons for its non-existence at bay. Lucky for them Chance was busy writing songs, nurturing artists, expanding single and coupled parent business opportunities while hunting and killing terrorists who were enemies of the West. It was in the United States governments best interest that Chance remained busy. Chance considered it only logical that ex-cons, trailer-Hood residents, along with people from the housing projects, the unemployed and minimum wage workers had a first shot at that legacy, job and un-submitted community creation plan. That was also why a lot of people in the wrong authority would probably have to die or at least be threatened as a negotiating tool, if it ever came to that.

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CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE Isotopes (Early Fall 2013) Isotopes occur naturally in nature but this was no natural isotope. According to the models tested by her team there would have had to been a negative vacuum energy to generate heat that was raised uniformly to 0 degrees Celsius and not one degree more. Actually, the focused heat growth caused rapid decay of ice sheets and literally reversed ice ages. But was it caused by the isotope? The isotope was found in greater than trace amounts by the retrieval and test teams that she dispatched to Alaska. But the teams also found no significant CO increase, which was more than slightly odd indeed. Unfortunately for Jimmica the isotope only led to more use of the word unprecedented. It was unprecedented because most often in nature isotopes occur at 0-18, which is rarer and heavier than 0-16. During the ice ages there was a higher concentration or percentage of the 0-18 isotope. However, what Jimmica had here was a rare and virtually unrecorded isotope that was 0-17, which neither stayed in the ice (like 0-18), or in the ocean (like 0-16). This new isotope only partially evaporated and fell just as quickly, with just a little increase in temperature. The bigger problem there was that the ice sheet didnt melt gradually. It all melted at once, in 4.5 nanoseconds. That was faster than a blink of the eye. Multiple Katrina by 150 and one would have the size and devastation that such a glacial ice melt would cause. To further complicate matters, Jimmica and her teams new hastily constructed climate models predicted that either or both of the United States coasts would be quickly swallowed. The coasts would be wiped out literally, and that would make Super Storm Sandy seem not so super. As well, parts of Canada and Russia would be swallowed up too by a supernaturally raised ocean and it all would happen in 30-minutes or less. There were no interventions or preemptive strikes for that type of global disaster. None. Nada. No population evacuation plans for heavily populated areas existed or could be created to effectively match that type of threat. If Jimmicas growth models understood the technology behind that potential the calculations would have compared the potential glacial ice melt to be like a super jet fighter induced sound wave. Only the wave grew exponentially instead of dissipating or fading like the vapor trail of a jet does. It grew in a fractal
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pattern, seemingly and in a randomized way, from one molecule to another. The growth was sort of an uncontrolled non-cellular mitosis. But the growth was not random. The growth was actually a pattern if the logarithms which could precisely define it were known to man, which it was not since a quantum computer was being used. Jimmica and her team didnt know this either but the growth defied all climate models. It came not from an atmospheric phenomenon or a super collider but instead came from a portable collider that created an atmospheric phenomenon that initiated the melting growth. Once initiated, the boom box sized collider (of sorts) forced the CO increases to be non-linear in their relationship with timedependent warming and severely countered the sulfate cooling that occurred naturally by the ocean. In short, the collider could push a 4,500-mile region up to 50 degrees beyond the 1.8 degrees C (2.9 degrees F), which when surpassed was global warming. But this wasnt global warming. It was focused, local warming. This would be far more sinister in the eyes of the government and its sponsored watchdogs called scientists if they knew what Jimmica and her team knew. This heat growth was deliberate. I came from a seemingly unknown source. It was an imminent threat. It was deadly and unstoppable by all of its unsuspecting targets equally. Santiago (Early Fall 2013) Chance broke protocol regarding civilians and actually conducted a surveillance operation just outside of Valdosta in the city of Tifton. It was strategically best if none of his operations were conducted in the entire state of Georgia just in case something went wrong. But something had gone wrong. Chance had learned from Marcus that just before Anthony had stopped coming to work and going to school that he got into a fierce argument with his cousin Santiago who went by the street name Pit-bull. The argument had something to do with their stepsister and money. Thats all Marcus knew before Anthony took off in his car without his brother. Santiago was a drug dealer so Chance knew that whatever the issues were that they were serious, so he hacked into Anthonys computer and phone. His phone showed him to be near Hahira, Georgia and that he was not on the move and hadnt been for an hour or so. When Chance got there he found Anthony in a very nice home that had as part of its backyard an 18-hole golf course. When Chance explained who he was
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to the wife who answered the door she immediately let him in. She was glad to see him. It turned out that the home belonged to Anthonys uncle who was a Cosmetic Surgeon and an important man in the community. The uncle was glad to see him also. He asked Chance to talk some sense into Anthony. Santiago had kidnapped Vanessa, Anthonys step-sister and was holding her until he received his ransom. Anthonys dad, who was in prison, had evidently stolen a kilo (which they called a key) of cocaine from them before he went to prison for the murder of another drug dealer. They wanted either the dope or the money by Friday and it was then Tuesday. They sent a tape that was almost two weeks old and the coming Friday would be the end of the two weeks Actually the tape was a videotaped ransom demand. Chance watched it as the masked men made their demands for the $125K they wanted. Chance knew that the missing drugs were only worth $75K tops. In the video Vanessa was tiedup to a bed and about four mean looking dogs were being held by a guy in the background, while another man was slapping Vanessa in the face with his exposed penis. They promised to gang rape her and then feed her to the dogs. None of them wore masks, as they also promised to wipe out their entire family if they went to the cops. See, they going to kill her but not if I stop them, Anthony said while more taunting was going on in the video. Mr. Chance, he comes to me for a gun. Please do something. Fuck Santiago, Ill kill that mother fucker. I dont blame you. Both the doctor and his wife looked at Chance in shock and with disappointment. You trust me dont you Anthony? You know I do, Insubordinate. Now the doctor and his wife had that Huh look on their face for he had introduced himself as Chance. Give me until Thursday around 6PM. We can meet back here at that time, and if my friends havent settled this matter by then I will personally give you a gun and help you kill Santiago. We got a deal?
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Gee, man, how did you find me anyway? Dont you worry about that, I have my ways. But, this has nothing We got a deal, I said. Sure, but only until Thursday. Six you say right? Thats right. And with that Chance paid his respects to the uncle and wife and as he was leaving he could hear the wife ask Anthony with a corrective and respectful tone why he had called Mr. Chance Insubordinate.

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CHAPTER THIRTY SIX Santiago (Early Fall 2013) Chance was in his basement the next day. It was now Wednesday and late in the afternoon. It was still early and he wanted to wait until dark before he went and scoped out Santiagos drug house, which was less than an hour away. Chance had no problem finding out where it was since he had asked Anthony if he and Santiago had spoken on the phone. They had several times but not since the kidnapping. Chance easily found Santiagos phone number and was inside his phones GPS system before 7:30PM that day. He was also looking in at the Rug Dealer on another of his several virtual screens. The Rug Dealer was at his favorite caf only this time he was with another man. He looked Arabic so Chance moved in closer on his face and saw that clearly that the man was Hispanic. He looked familiar. No it couldnt be. Chance looked quickly through the images that were in the copy of the ransom tape that Anthony had provided him and sure enough it was the guy who was holding the dogs in the tape. You sure are a long way from home, Chance said out loud as he often spoke out loud when he was feeling the adrenaline of a kill mission. He was showing the Rug Dealer something on his phone. Chance zoomed in and it was several pictures of a very beautiful lady with long Black hair. He was zipping through them and the more pictures he showed the wider the Rug Dealers smile got and the harder he puffed on his cigar. Then several photos of Anthonys sister with her tied in the chair just like in the ransom video appeared. Well, Ill be damned, Chance thought out loud. There was no doubt in Chances mind what the meeting was about. The dog handler was brokering a deal with the Rug Dealer for the sale and enslavement of Anthonys sister.

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Rug Dealer (Early Fall 2013) The Rug Dealers voice was so raspy and ratcheted up that even when he spoke honestly he sounded bogus. He was a dealer of scum so he was often treated or viewed worse than scum bags were. Scum bags were usually guys weakened by a string of bad luck brought about by a series of high risk or bad life changing decisions. People who were pure scum were the actual bad luck. Such pure scum ripped other peoples good life apart. And once ripped apart the scum resettled that former good life in one or another layer of some version of Dantes hell and inferno on earth. Unlike a regular pimp who was mostly just scum, the Rug Dealer couldnt use entrapment as bait because the beautiful people he trapped were people who werent looking to break any law or have any type of forbidden fun. The people he trapped tried to live a life that either blessed or produced the least harm to others. Thats also why the least blemished were the Rug Dealers favorite and primary target as a physical virgin was correspondingly also believed to be a mental virgin by the same processes of conditioning. The excitement was the screwing up of both of those conditions and since the excitement produced the euphoria of being over the top it was highly addictive. It was so addictive that enough was always in need of more. More pain, more tears, more fear and more blood. There was no rational incentive not to do so since it paid as well as it felt. His greater sense of freedom was totally dependent on anothers complete lack of freedom. He had to imprison others in order to be free to be me, with me being him. Respected businessmen fueled that belief because just like pimps, wealthy drug dealers and other across the board scum, the respected men eagerly paid for the Rug Dealers services. There was a demand that continually outstripped the supply of humanly trafficked commerce. Respected men were his lively hood. He spat on many covers of Fortune, Forbes, Bloomberg Business Week and other respected magazine profilers of business wealth every time he saw one of the businessmen on a cover that he believed that he deserved to be on instead. Combined with a mind built from physical depravity and whose interaction with untargeted people was at best social awkwardness, he lacked the sensibility to know why he was where he was. His was a depraved mind that possessed a selfview of being enlightened. Thats why he was so drawn to Vanessa.

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In the Rug Dealers mind he might even keep Vanessa for himself. If she saw the light and was willing he might even make her his wife. If Vanessa was reluctant he would rape and sodomize her for a month or two before passing her off to his bodyguards who would be instructed to sell her to a South American whore house once they tired of gang tackling her. She was fresh. The Catholic girls were the best. The young Catholic women liked and were drawn to the rock star qualities of the latest Pope. Like any fan, many more of them were better able to endure poverty and any other quality of life problem with the hope of trading in womanhood for the expressed purpose of marriage with children. Like the devil, the Rug Dealer walked to and fro across the earth looking for a poorly protected woman like Vanessa. Having seen her, he now had to have her. And since she was in her present position there was really nothing to stop him. With those thoughts he summoned his head bodyguard. He now wanted to go to the caf and enjoy a cigar. It could be a full blown winter as early as tomorrow in Washington, D.C but today it was a nice, crisp and almost perfect fall day. He wanted to sit alone, breathe fresh air and dream about the freshness of Vanessa. She stirred him where he needed stirring and that was without having seen her naked. She was pure and her purity was what stirred him. He again thanked God, in his case the devil answered, for the Catholics. Thanks to the Dog Breeder, the Rug Dealer now had several pictures of Vanessa on his lap top and phone. He intended to spend the next couple of hours viewing them while he plotted out their future together.

Jimmica (Early Fall 2013) Jimmicas teams had been back for a few days now with plenty samples of the previously unknown isotope. Jimmica sent samples to all of the top chemists, geologists, physicists and other related scientists with government clearance and asked that they expedite their findings. She needed not have asked for that for within hours she was being swamped with questions that she was not really prepared to answer, with the foremost one being where did she find the samples.
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That meant that the scientists would be asking around and probing their own sources to see if they might be able to narrow down the site of the find and conduct their own research. The scientists were mostly shocked at how stable the isotope was. Most samples of that kind would decompose so fast that studying them were always limited by time. This particular isotope seemed to be defying and challenging them to discover its properties and purpose. Its purpose was also generating all sorts of theories and many of them leaned towards global warming. One science even gave a preliminary warning that just a boat full of such an isotope might cause cataclysmic global warming. He further stated that maybe carbon emissions werent the primary source of warming as previously thought. He reiterated that was just a hasty preliminary theory but was one worthy of further exploration. The other e-mails, phone calls and voicemails were near panicky. The high level of curiosity was even more than she had expected. Thats why Jimmica decided that she had to call for an emergency meeting with the President. He had to be told now that the more evidence that they gathered that the less they knew. The President would not be pleased to hear that but so far no scientists could explain what was happening any better than she could. The only person who could explain it was her anonymous source and he or they were terrorists by definition. What an odd position to be a helper and a threat all at once. Thats when she decided that she would have to bring in some other sources. She had been contemplating calling Tom Sword for some time now. He was one of few agency men whom she could trust with sensitive Intelligence and plus she had worked with him in the past and they both respected one anothers professionalism. She needed help and lots of it. And since he was one of the best in the field of Counter Cyber Intelligence, she would have to lean on him. Now she had another oddity in her midst, it was her needing the help of the C.I.A. GERMANY (Early Fall 2013) Taylor and Trudy were both scheduled to be in Kaiserslautern a town in Germany for the Thanksgiving school break. They were going to be there to see some DJproducer named Zedd and to hear his song Clarity live. Never heard of him Chance quickly explained to his daughters during a video chat. He was with the group Skrillex, Taylor clarified but made the matter fuzzier to Chance instead. After he asked them to e-mail the track, the daughters started explaining how Zedd was about to blowup and that Taylor was about a week from finalizing the

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opening of her techno-studio, and they both went on and on about how fabulous they and everyone around them were, and Chance never zoned out his daughters but his mind was on Anthony. Everything they were saying was important but his concerns for Anthony was really the only thing he wanted to focus on right now. They could not contact him enough under normal circumstances but the current circumstances were anything but normal. Anyway, this was really just their way of saying that they wouldnt be able to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with him, which they rarely did anyway. They all usually spent Christmas together at their grandmothers house. And they both knew that their dad believed in treating people like you would for the holidays on any day and for no other reason than you care. Still, they were giving him the heads up because he was definitely known for using the holidays as a reason for seeing them. It was during the holiday season that they would all most likely be free from their other responsibilities. Trudys mother was with them in Germany so their freedom and fun in Germany was sure to fabulously have parental limits. Parental limits were also why there were so many well-rounded women in the world, a fabulous trend; indeed. Thanksgiving in Germany was called Erntedankfest and Chance was sure that Taylor had a meal lined up for them all there.

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CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN The Bullied (The Early Years 1976) Ralph Hernandez When Chance had first seen Ralph, he took a deep breath and before he could ready himself to battle a creepy smile came across Ralphs face. He made it clear that he didnt want to fight. That was a relief because neither did Chance who was now of the opinion that minorities shouldnt be fighting one another. He and Ralph actually joked and laughed about their epic battles. It turned out that he was also a fan of Muhammad Ali and of the up and coming Sugar Ray Leonard. He even admitted that he was a bully and was wrong for roughing up that little girl back in elementary school. Unfortunately, Ralph had been replaced by a knife wielding Indian who said he was Apache. Ralph knew immediately who Chance was referring too and said that the Indian had pulled his knife on him recently. He got real violent when he got drunk, Ralph said and that Chance needed to avoid him because the Indian was dangerous and crazy. Chances beef with him was that he was really trying to take his neighbors Indian looking Mexican girlfriend away from him. The knife wielding Indian was drunken mad that she was in love with a White guy. But he wouldnt fight fair and weapons were just starting to be used by a number of people who learned the hard way that they couldnt duplicate Ali or Sugar on the streets. Nothing was worse than a jealous bully. But he didnt scare Chance and once he came into the projects and actually cut his neighbors little brother, of course everyone came to Chance. At the time he was with Joan, so he was more than a little angry about being disturbed. But once he found out who it was he was determined to settle the matter once and for all. The nerve of him to actually bring that jealousy mess into the projects, Chance fumed as he came out of the basement. Chance was known to have a walking tall stick. It was actually a sawed off bannister that was also known as a stair railing. They were made of oak then. He was still outside arguing and threating Chances neighbors. His White mom was clearly scared and her son was bleeding. The sight of his blood was what really set Chance off into a rage.

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The Apache was with another guy who was also armed. Chances cousin, who lived a few apartments down and who knew fake karate followed Chance as he chased the Apache and his friend into an open field that divided the projects into east and west divisions. He slowed and challenged Chance who never stopped advancing. He hit the Apache in the head so hard that it sounded like wood hitting wood. He dropped like a brick. His friend looked scared thinking he was next. Chance just calmly advised him to drag his friend home and to never step foot in his projects again. The friend did both.

Santiago (Early Fall 2013) The dog handler Chance learned was a dog breeder and convicted felon who was wanted for murder in Mexico. The dog breeder bred Italian mastiffs that weighed a hundred and sixty-five pounds apiece. The dogs attacked as a pack. There were a total of twenty-two dogs and all were trained to kill people in para-military uniforms, other animals and especially Niggers. This guy was more than just a street dealer and so was Santiago. It wasnt even quite 10PM and Chance had learned that they were connected to the Sinaloa cartel in Mexico. That explained where they got their influence for kidnapping. They probably owed Anthonys fathers $75K to the cartel; paid the cartel off to avoid being killed by them and now were trying to recoup their loss with a profit. But with the Rug Dealer involved, and the deal devolving into human trafficking, Chance was sure that the Rug Dealer would be willing to pay $500K or more for the young lady. She was what, nineteen, twenty tops. She was probably a virgin or a young woman with very little sexual experience. If she was a virgin the Rug Dealer would surely pay north of a million for her. Santiago had no intention of accepting the $75K for her; theyd probably just intended to jack Anthony of that money too, since they figured that Anthony could have somehow raised it in two weeks.

They were still partying and it was almost 3A.M. by the time Chance got close enough to the drug house to hear them speaking over the loud music. They were playing gangsta rap. It was a six bedroom house and every light in it was on except for one room.
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The dogs were nowhere to be found. He was almost certain that the dogs were at another location. Santiagos brother was a breeder; the dogs were worth close to a couple of million themselves. The breeder was connected to quite a few bad men in Miami, probably because of his dogs who toyed with pit bulls in a fight. The breeder had twenty-two dogs so Chance knew that his reputation was solid in the underworld and that it would cost no less than $100K to even start a discussion with him about the purchase of one of his dogs and that didnt include the training fee. Still Santiago and his dog breeding brother had more money than sense. They were in Georgia and it was only a matter of time before the F.B.I. closed down their shop, as they were making too much money and had the blinged out cars, big screen TVs, electronic games, pool and pool tables as proof. They werent going to sleep anytime soon. Thankfully there were no women to be seen. They probably just entertained women who were strippers or whores at the club or in cheap hotels. That way the women would know nothing about their operations other than what slipped from their tongues while drinking, bragging and sexing some woman that they thought really cared. There were seven men in all but they were not all together, which was why Chance was hesitant to make a move. They were big guys in wife beaters. Not one of them was less than 250 lbs. Many of them had prison built muscles and beer bellies to show that they had let their workouts and muscle building diets more than slip. More than a couple of them were probably on probation and using their moms home as their address of residence. They were all drinking heavily and moving all around the house laughing loud as they did. They were in a good location, in the country and a about a mile or so from the main road that led into town. There was a lot of open space so sneaking up on them in the daytime would be very difficult. Yet, their security lights shone only on the house and pool area so that there was a lot of darkness in the open field and tree lines that surrounded the house. Chance had come out through the trees just in case the dogs were there. He had climbed up one tree and checked out the entire house. He had been watching them for about an hour before he decided that he could get closer. And since he had gotten closer hed been watching them for about 30 minutes or so and was losing patience because it was early Wednesday morning and Thursday might not be promised.

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He couldnt see the woman from either the trees or from the ground as he lay in the field that was moist with the mornings dew. But he k new that she was somewhere in the house, most likely in the lone dark room. They would keep their meal ticket nearby as they were being led by greed. He also knew that she was ok as they were preserving her for sale or else theyd be raping her non-stop right now. Just as Chance was trying to figure out when to strike a pickup trucks head lights lit up a huge area of the field as it was coming down the long road that led to their driveway and house. Two men were in the truck and whipped into the driveway. They had brown bags which probably contained food and what were evidently cases of beer. That made nine men as the others who were upstairs came down and they all gathered in the pool area. A couple of men there had been barbecuing. The men were obviously now all by the pool to eat drink and laugh. Chance had seen and heard enough. He first shot out the transformer that was on the telephone pole near their house. All the lights went out and Chance slipped in his night vision contact lenses and started marching up towards the pool area and house. As Chance moved in they were screaming and shouting as if the sparks flying from the transformer were part of a firework display or something. One of the men went to the truck and cut on the lights of the pickup. Chance shot him first and then shot out both of the headlights. Who the fuck out there? They werent partying anymore. Chance could see that all of them had weapons and were looking around, mostly away from him. It was cloudy so there was no moon light. They were moving out and scattering, which was making his job a little more difficult. But his goal was to make sure no one got back inside the house and as one of the men started heading that way, Chance shot him twice in the back. That made the others just start shooting where theyd seen the flash but Chance was not there. He was close to the pool area that was partly blocked by a privacy fence. He didnt see the guy coming from the other end of the security fence but he felt his presence and then heard him drop hard to the ground.

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Chance turned around and saw that an arrow had pierced his head, right through the ear. Then another man dropped. My angels, Chance said out loud, low enough so that only he could hear. The Asian Sisters were taking the dealers out one by one. Chance couldnt see the Asian Sisters and had no idea where they were but men dying around them sent the others scrambling for the house and Chance was able to take three more of them out for the effort, which sent the remaining men running back in the other direction and out into the field. Chance knew that the Asian sisters would take care of the other two. So he proceeded to the darkened house.

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CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT Santiago (Early Fall 2013) As Chance made his way up the stairs he found most of the bedroom doors to be wide open. He quickly glanced into them and headed for the one door that wasnt open. It was a big heavy door and locked but Chance kicked it in on the first try with the strength of his leg and steeled toed Brogan boots. Vanessa shot up from the bed she had been sleeping or resting in. She wasnt tied up but he could see the fear in her eyes. It was dark and she could only see a shadow of a man and maybe the gun. Its okay. Anthony sent us. Chance could see the fear melting away as he grabbed her hand and told her that he would have to blindfold her for her own safety. He had a voice modulator on so she wouldnt be able to identify him that way either. Ok, she said. Chance blind folded her and lead her out of the house, around the dead bodies and to the tree line where a jeep awaited them. The Asian Sisters were nowhere in sight and neither were the last two men that he saw fleeing before entering the house to search for Vanessa.

Chance merely dropped Vanessa off at her mothers home where she was staying and asked her not to take off her blind fold for at least a minute or two. She didnt know where she was but as she heard the motor of Chances vehicle fade away she was so relived to take her blindfold off and see her full neighborhood in front of her and her own home behind her. Through tears of relief she had a difficult time explaining to her mother what had happened and how she had gotten home. She hadnt been there a good 20minutes before the sun rose up and all she could tell Anthony, who she and her mother woke with an early morning phone call, was that some men had rescued her. And when he asked how many men, she could only state that she didnt know because she had seen the shadow of one man and had heard only one computer sounding voice. The man had also indicated that it was more than just him there, because he said, Anthony sent us and later the police would confirm that more than just one person took out the dealers.
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The official report was just as vague. The official report left out all of the unusual circumstances surrounding the deaths. No one would ask and no one in authority seemed to care that the crime scene had all the elements of a paraprofessional military unit that fit every profile that they had been trained to notice and report. Jimmica & Tom Sword (Early Fall 2013) After a joint briefing with the President, Vice President and National Security Advisor, Jimmica was pulled to the side after the top secret session by the N.S.A. The N.S.A. advisor Rice wanted to know who she was bringing on board for counter insurgency help. Jimmica told her Tom Sword. Good, hell keep these security incidents out of the leak traps within his and other Intelligence agencies, she said. Tell him everything that youve told us and anything that youre withholding from us now, Im sure, with good reason. Jimmica wasnt about to tell on herself now or anytime in the future unless compelled to do so. So she just said, Ill keep you informed, maam. The N.S.A. Advisor said no more. She was an all action woman. She didnt really want to hear anything else anyway that wasnt leaning heavily toward a resolution. Still her agency was highly concerned about the latest development. Since it was a new isotope she was really leaning toward suspecting the involvement of scientists from a terrorist state. But like Jimmica she needed more than just intuition and previous patterns from cyber breaches to go on.

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CHAPTER THIRTY NINE Santiago (Early Fall 2013) Anthony called Chance immediately while he was on his way to his sister Vanessas house. Chance just told him that he didnt want to hear any details about the kidnapping incident and that he was glad that his sister was safe. He allowed Anthony to express a few more thanks and then asked that he please come back to work and get back into school. Please. That last comment lightened their emotions that were just hours ago dragged low by the heavy mood caused by the devastation. Anthony hadnt laughed in days and made up for it then and promised to report to work in a day or two, bright and early. Of course, Chance had encouraged him to take his time easing back into his previous way of life.

After the crew for the Power Company responded to the power outage they found the dead drug dealers. The local sheriff and the Georgia Bureau of Investigations found the weapons, drugs and cartel links. The sheriff was furious but probably was more so mad about the crap that was going on in his backyard. He had long ago suspected drug dealing but he was having difficulty acquiring an undercover officer for a drug sting. So to wrap things up he quickly and officially announced it as a drug deal gone sour. Such criminal messes made it hard for the Sheriff to passively support limited immigration reform and he had his eye on the mayoral position in Tifton. The sheriff conducted a photo op with the weapons and cash seized and would later collect some of that seized money to help in the fight against crime, thanks to an unnamed Georgia Congressman. Jimmica & Tom Sword (Early Fall 2013) The C.I.A. agent or corporate executive was the typical elegantly dressed white or silver-haired man. To try to appear different they might take a page from the founder of Amazon Jeff Bezos and downsize their wardrobe to a dress shirt and jeans, which was also another side of typical. Tom today was a combination of both. He wore jeans, dress shirt, dress shoes and tie. He almost looked hip.

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Jimmicas timing was good. Tom was not presently obligated to be in the field or in another state conducting a security conference for any of the numerous corporations that he advised. Like the three day Aspen Security Forum he did in Colorado. It took him a couple of days to honor her request to meet, in order to clear his calendar as the Transportation Security Authority and others were keeping him very busy. He had suggested an Italian restaurant in Georgetown and thats where they met. The food was good but the contents of the meeting werent. Jimmica filled Tom Sword in. She told him everything from how she was receiving anonymous preemptive terrorist strike e-mails, the instant melting of an iceberg, the blocked satellites, the quantum computer and the newly found isotope. Tom had encountered just about every type of cyber-attack in his 30-years of public and private service. He was 62-years old but looked and had the vitality of a 42-year old. Tom was use to rattling off a checklist of solutions to reoccurring problems in the cyberspace industry. What Jimmica described was only not a recurring problem but what she described was committed by technology that wasnt supposed to even exist. Now what Jimmica also didnt know was that Tom worked for the Power of 4 and that Chance worked for the Unknown Committee. Both Tom and Chance knew that there were opposing agents in the field, and that some of those agents were government sanctioned while others were unsanctioned; like them. They just didnt know how many of those unsanctioned agents there were. So they pretty much placed their bets on their higher level recruiters or agency heads, which they assumed would expose an adversary for targeting when the time for exposure was due. Would such an exposure lead to an all-out gangland type war between the operatives of the Power of 4 and the Unknown Committee? Maybe, and maybe thats why neither side had exposed the identity of an operative for the opposing side to date. To do so was obviously against protocol, so a high level game of chess occurred with all the operatives being any one of the pieces on the board except for the king and queen.

Tom was in an unfamiliar position. He was used to being the alpha dog regarding security matters. He was even quite envious of the quantum computer like technology that his agency had either not developed, appropriated the technology for or just out right stole. His agency was still using supercomputers; the
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computers were the best in the cyber war game but with what Jimmica had just briefed him on he was suddenly feeling like what he was technologically using was comparable to Windows 3.0 in the age of Windows 8.1 or some later version. It was not actually in the realm of solutions to their multi-faceted security problems and new threat, but Tom told Jimmica about a current Pentagon program. He doubt if the Pentagon was aware of the latest threat, but the Pentagon was forward thinking. They were offering $3 million to anyone who came up with a self-healing cyber defense system. I heard it was $2 million. Yes, thats the official offer. But Tom explained that there was a clause for a $1 million dollar bonus if the system passed the proof of concept stage and other stress tests without a hitch. Oh, that makes sense. Unfortunately, the rest of the conversation fell back into the realm of the unfamiliar position. Tom piggybacked on that Pentagon announcement with the fact that their adversary seemed to have built a self-healing cyber-attack and defensive system all in one. It also occurred to him and Jimmica at about the same time that although the Pentagon had announced their defense system needs that what they were really looking for was a system that could withstand an attack and then switch to an offensive cyber security system. Tom had actually provided Jimmica with much of her early cyber security training. She was one of the more capable operatives during his attack and counter attack training exercises. She had actually taught him a thing or two, as well, and he appreciated that. It made him focus and not take anyone for granted, which in his business was the most certain gateway to being vulnerable to attacks as well as a failure at preventing them. The rest of their meal was just light chatter about their ups and downs as team leaders and what was the latest inter agency gossip. Of course Tom hit on Jimmica once he found out that she wasnt married and didnt have time to even date. In his mind that meant she was horny, which she was, but she wasnt horny for a conquest man like Tom Sword. She had heard enough rumors about how often he wielded his sword which one bedded and disappointed trainee gossiped was a butter knife. Jimmica thanked Tom though, in her mind, because that was a good note on which to end their
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meeting along with assurances for working together as partners on the new terror threat. He looked at her butt as she walked away and thought that whatever man got to hold that would be one lucky fella. Then he made a mental note to start calling her Scandal, because she favored that Black girl who starred in the series (Kerry Washington); only as the brothers would say, Jimmica was a little thicker. Actually, Kerry had the overall better package for beauty but why blur the lines of beauty? And if Chances sexist remarks or thoughts were thrown into the mix, he would have added that Kerry will be even finer after she has that baby and the expanded hips that come with it. Men, Kerry was already fine enough and happily married. Neither Chance nor Tom Sword would have said that without being prompted first. Some men just refused to learn.

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CHAPTER FORTY MYA (Early Fall 2013) Mya had left Chance a voicemail a few days ago and he hadnt returned her call. As a matter fact she hadnt heard or seen much of since their weekend day in Atlanta. He sometimes didnt call right back. She knew that he hated cell phones and the immediacy that people somehow thought they commanded. Still it seemed like every time they seemed to be getting closer and more serious that he would pull back a little. Mya realized that he was busy with work. And he mentioned something about the doctors giving him vocal clearance to resume touring. All she knew was that he was on some type of vocal rest to avoid having vocal surgery. She knew how serious any surgery was. Still she was getting a lot from him but it was still not enough. And something like marriage seemed not to even be in the cards for them and she really wanted to marry and have children someday. She hadnt even met his daughters yet and had to learn about them through their online activities and by watching an old segment of Oprah. His youngest daughter was something else, over in Germany starting a studio and writing about hiring artists and starting her own label. At least thats what her Wikipedia page said. They just dont make fifteen year olds like they use to, or was she sixteen now? Trudy. Mya couldnt help but to remember her name because she had a cousin with the same name. She was obviously more like Chance and it seemed that she was the one that he spent the most time with since she didnt live overseas. She was in college and was already a millionaire. And she could really handle herself with the media and was feisty and intelligent all at the same time. No man would be able to intimidate her. Mya wondered what type of man his daughters might marry. Was that it? Was Mya intimidated by him and his daughters success? After all he could have just about any celebrity woman that he wanted. Sex was great and he treated her with much respect but did he love her? That was it, she couldnt remember a time that he said he loved her. Should she ask him? She wondered if she asked him if that would somehow mess up what they had now. She wanted to ask her sister but decided against it because she didnt want to be pressed into some type of action. She would just wait until Chance called but in

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the meantime was she waiting for something beyond a call back that would never be in the cards? Chance (Early Fall 2013) Shoot, Chance said to himself. He hadnt even thought about his phone in the last few days. He got his phone out of his trunk and saw that he had two message alerts. One message was a text from Mya. And the other was an e-mail from Tom Sword. Mya was just saying hi and to thank him for her birthday treat, again. But Chance knew that he was losing her to the life that he had to serve. She deserved a man who wanted to settle down and have children. Mya was young and he was a year shy of being twice her age. She made it clear that she wanted children and that she preferred to be married when she did. Marriage, just the thought of it provided a feeling of anxiety. How could he give a woman what she deserved with the life he lived? He would be keeping plenty of secrets from her right from the start. And he had a feeling that few if not all of the operatives for the Unknown Committee werent attached. She was his girlfriend and even that was a lie. If certain people knew who he really was they would target her first just to get to him. So really he was endangering her without her consent. What kind of friend was that? The ethical thing would be to come clean about who he was or leave her to the life she deserved, which was likely a life without him. The timing for the ins and outs of love couldnt have been worse. And was it even love? He still compared all other women to Joan and even Mya fell short. Every woman he had ever trusted with even a lot less than his mission oriented secrets came up short really, even Joan. That was the problem, he didnt fully trust Mya. She was an ordinary citizen dealing with a complicated man. He wasnt a fictional John Shaft with a woman who understood him. There was no woman like the characters that Pam Grier played in the movies. Nor was there any man like the fictional movie character John Shaft. Thats what he needed. He needed a relationship with another operative. The Asian Sisters sure looked sweet, but they were even more secretive than he was. Shit, he thought. He was fucking over Myas life. He could never be more

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to her than he was now, and he was projected to become even less of that in just a few short months, maybe weeks. Thats life. He really enjoyed her body but she deserved a man who would care for her and love her as a better part of his life. He wasnt that man; he could never be that man so long as men like the Rug Dealer and Underwear Bomber were in the business of spreading destruction and fear. Well, maybe he could be with her after he trained his replacement and retired. But that would be when, 2016? 2017? The timing for the what to do with Mya decision couldnt have been worse. Or could it? First he wined and dined her, now here he was considering throwing in the towel. And it was supposed to be for her on good? Well that would be a good that hurt like hell, he thought. And worse even the thought of not having her was already feeling like a burden lifted. She would just be another person that he wouldnt have to worry about and keep safe from his life.

Tom Sword. Like he had promised he was keeping in touch. He remembered that Chance had told him that he ran a road race in Washington, D.C. sometime this year or last year. Tom wanted to know when the next race was and if he had any plans to be in town for a race or any other reason. He looked up Chances race time; it was 23:45 for a 3-mile race. That wasnt bad. What he didnt know was that Chance could have run it in 18-minutes or less. Anyhow, if Chance planned to be in town Tom wanted Chance to contact him so that he could show Chance his business and also show him around parts of the town that he was sure he missed the last time he was in D.C. He ended the e-mail, Its the Sword, give me a holler sometime. Chance didnt really know what the attraction was. Just because he figured he was C.I.A. didnt bother him. He used to run into those types at the University of Michigan all the time. And thinking of that, he was probably trying to recruit Chance for something that only on the surface would benefit Chance. Chance knew from experience that if he just ignored Tom that he would go away. But instead Chance let Tom know that he would be at the late Katharine Grahams D.C. mansion in 2014, and replied to Tom Sword that he would like to meet him there when he did.

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He knew that Tom would be delighted. Now rather that delight was real, fake, or plain old mission oriented would remain to be seen.

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EPILOGUE The Dog Breeder The Dog Breeder heard about what happened to his brother before he had even left Washington, D.C. The Dog Breeder just had another addictive taste of wealth as he was flown from Atlanta on a private jet to his meeting with the Rug Dealer. But now his wealth building plans were falling apart. Who had the nerve to rob their gang and kill his brother Santiago? Didnt they know who they were? Didnt they know about their deep and far reaching cartel connections? He didnt tell the Rug Dealer what he knew, yet. He first wanted to sort things out and get the girl back. She was a strict Catholic practicing virgin who was being groomed for marriage and he wanted his million dollars. He had been practically counting the money while in D.C. That was a much better payday than $75K, which he also intended to get. How could Santiago have messed this up? How could he let some punks get the drop on him like that? Someone was going to pay for killing his brother and he had every intention of starting with Anthony who he swore had better not have had anything to do with the punks who took that bitch. CHANCE Now that Anthony was back at the wheel Chance could relax just a lit bit. He was chilling at his favorite local park, (aside for McKey, Saunders, Drexel and Freedom) Scott Park. To continue his good mood he got permission from the Parks & Recreation Commission of Valdosta to permanently fix the legs of the chess set to the ground. The thick legs for the marble tabled chess board were two big slabs that weighed at least 30 pounds apiece. It took some effort to move the chess board off of the legs and then toss both aside. The legs and board were sturdy so that was as far as the vandalism of that intellectual sport symbol had gone. Now back into the swing of things, Anthony grabbed his gear and couple of his crew members and had a day or two earlier cemented the board to the chess legs and the legs to the ground near the childrens swing and monkey bar area. It was the middle of November in Georgia and still a little north of 80 degrees while much of America was experiencing cold and blizzards. Chance after admiring Anthonys work had setup the chess board and was just chilling and watching the basketball game one of the four full courts. There were two games
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going and others were bidding their time on the side courts. There was even a family in the oversized arbor having a picnic. Chance hadnt even noticed the two little boys, probably because they were intentionally trying to sneak up on him in order to try and scare him but he doused that effort by sensing their presence and turning towards them before they could say, Boo. Chance smiled at them. Whats going on little fellas? Youre the Popeye man? They asked, referring the Popeye tale Chance had used as a substitute for the X-rated superman tale that two other boys had told and were spreading. I guess you can say that. They were kicking up leaves and otherwise looking to shed some of their excess energy. Want to play a game? Their eyes lit up. They came to Chance not knowing how to play chess and would in less than an hour leave as the games newest players. RUI & Anthony Anthonys sister had been back in her home and with her mom for almost a week now. The D.E.A. interviewed her and really couldnt get anything useful from her. A background search on her had proved that she was a good Catholic school girl whose teachers and volunteer agencies that she worked with loved and vouched for. It was all a rather routine inquiry anyway. They had what they needed, a bunch of dead and deadly drug dealers with connections to a ruthless and wanted Drug Cartel in Mexico.

When Anthony returned to work after spending a couple of days with his sister, he was received with a standing ovation. His name had been mentioned in the newspaper and just about all of southern Georgia now knew that a big drug bust and kidnapping that involved his sister had taken place. It was shocking news to just about everyone. It was most shocking that criminals who were linked to Organized Crime in Mexico were in Tifton. They all knew that his sister was lucky to be alive and many wondered if it all was really over for Anthony and his sister since Cartels were known to never forgive or forget.
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Anthony hadnt thought that far out and was just glad to be putting his life back in order. When Chance told him about the company moles, Anthony once again apologized because he had suspected that something was not right with the husband and wife team but had dropped the ball, which was all understandable to Chance. Therapy for Anthony was overseeing the crew that quickly made the chess table a permanent fixture in the park. They even walked around and repaired anything else in the park that they could repair as icing on the cake. Anthony was okay now. He even had his little brother now who was making his own footprints. Marcus was taking school a lot more seriously and was learning all that he could about the landscaping and the RUI sides of business that Anthony managed. And of course the women at RUI joking flirted and teased him about his youthful handsomeness which made Marcus feel all the more special and conscious of his responsibility to uphold a certain position of respectability. Anthony couldnt stop smiling and every time Chance saw Anthony, he couldnt help but to smile also.

Anthony now had what he thought was no less than a hundred ideas for RUI and about fifty others (from Marcus) for the landscaping business, which he called A & M, which stood for Anthony and Marcus. Anthony also wanted to acquire his journalism degree in three years and to add an additional two years to self-studying technological app developments and coding. Anthony didnt have time for school and its slow computer science processes, but he did plan to keep in touch with many of the computer science college students just to make sure that he was not only keeping pace but ahead of the learning curve, as well. The latter was also inspired by Marcus. Although Marcus planned to be more than half way to that coding goal by the time he graduated from high school with the class of 2014.

At Re-Use-It dismantled handbags were refashioned into slippers or slip-on shoes, over-sized shirts and slacks were refashioned into hand bags with matching shorts and tops. That was usually the case because most often the most durable item in a womans wardrobe was her hand bag. It was usually pants for men.

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Following the strip down process and with the fabric on hand a two-sided application would be applied. There was some variation of a scenic and colorful Italian floral needlepoint for the front of the design and the vibrant colors of African blocked and geometric patterns for the back of the design. The point was for the wearer to look good both coming and going. Those particular designs were made by an Americanized Italian and African married couple. All patterns and designs had what they called a 50/50 look. It was 50% Italian, 50% African and 100% American. Chance loved it. Anthony put the design on the fast-track cycle since he was more than ready for a big project. The test market caught on with a highly unpredictable and difficult to sway or pin down the pulse group: tweens. The tweens were both Black and White. Go figure. Who would have guessed? Chance joked that the loud colors and all went well with their skinny jeans, which in his youth skinny jeans were called ball busters.

Trudys Surprise Visit (Mid-Fall 2013) Trudy surprised her dad with a surprise visit. She left her sister in Germany two days early so that she could surprise him. It was easy being that she and Taylor communicated on almost a daily basis regarding their enterprises and personal living updates. Plus she just wanted to see him and thought about him every time one of her sorority sisters would beam at her pendant, which she kept mostly in a safe deposit box. Trudy and her Taylor had their own rooms and keys at their dads home, although they rarely used either. Chance wasnt hiding her, but was glad that he didnt have to explain his relationship with Mya and was grateful that Mya didnt intentionally leave her personal items in his home. His daughters surprising him with a visit made the situation with Mya all the more urgent. He was more than glad to see his daughter and would definitely have to call Mya so that they could talk about their own relationship. He and his daughter had just finished breakfast. She loved her dads omelets and smoothies, so he replicated the breakfast they enjoyed during her hair show visit. After breakfast and while she was video chatting with her sister, he got in a short run of five miles.
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Trudy knew his early morning routine better than most. Later he showered and was relaxing on the couch, God only knows who Trudy was talking to on the phone now. He decided that he would call or e-mail Anthony later, if at all. And no sooner than he had thought that Trudy was off the phone and walking past him. Chance looked at his daughter. Trudy had that hey dad look on her face. Nice job with Bin Laden dad. What, who and shit, escaped his lips while Trudy walked away towards her room like nothing important had just been exchanged. Had the Unknown Committee recruited his teenage daughter? Shit! Shit! Chance exchanged the F-word for, Shucks man, as he jumped off of the couch and almost ran to Trudys room, while consciously changing out shit for shoot and shoot for damn.

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