It was nearly three years since the falling... Three years that completely wiped the minds of those who survived. Why forget of such a happening? You'd think those left behind would realize what had happened to it's full extent... But they didn't... They were told to forget. They were told to let everything they once knew parish into little crumbs which were then swept away in the vast corners of their restrained minds.
This society was one that fell in line like a mile-long freight train near a seaside loading dock. They were a group of individuals that were only as individual as the population count they were apart of... Nothing more than a stock number if you ask me.
Well, lets get down to it. Let me tell you all about a society that goes by the name of "Windermere". Windermere was a rather civil group, nobody cause too much trouble for the most part... I mean, how could they? They are merely nothing to the higher-up "government" they supposedly had. The political leaders (Who refereed to themselves as "Blowhards") were ones that represented nothing but control and... well... anything for their benefit. A citizen had a car? Fuck no. The Blowhards will take it and basically shove it up the said citizen's ass, drive it a few times and sell it for stock money which they will invest towards vast supplies of toaster strudels. So basically, the Blowhards were fucknuggets (Which you probably could have guessed due to how the story began) but somehow, they were the ones in charge.
Remember how I said there was a "falling"?? What? You don't... How the fuck do you not remember how the fucking story started you incompetent douche-nozzle?! Oh well... I'll still tell you... Even though you seem dense.
Well, there was what the Windermeres refer to as the "falling" and it did happen exactly three years ago. The falling is well... How the fuck do I explain this... The falling was when the Blowhards bought this really big slice of land outside of Windermereton (Their city) and basically used it to build a really big statue of their leader... All fine and dandy I guess... except for the fact the statue contained billions upon billions of of rubber bands.
Why is this a problem? Well simple. Let me tell you.
The citizens of Windermereton got rather pissed off the Blowhards built this statue saluting some old knucklefuck that basically did nothing but suck every poodulldropplet (The Windermere's form of currency) out of their already poor pockets. I mean, who wouldn't? I sure would if I were in their position as well.
Anyways, the Windermeretons got really fucking mad and basically started rioting the statue after it was built. Many of them attempted to hit the statue repetitively with a stick while others attempted to blow it up with C4. Well, a mix between the two ideas struck and well... The dumbass statue blew up.
I know, I know... You are thinking "Oh, it's just a statue filled with rubber bands, what's the big deal...?" Well sadly, there are two "big deals" when it comes to a explosding statue packed to the brim with rubber bands near Windermereton.
First problem: Rubber bands are a extreme delicacy in Windermereton. I mean nobody has no more but one or two.... and they cost a fuckload of poodulldropplets to get a hold of. Kellivan Dercir (The top-dog Blowhard) attempted to suck all of the rubber bands out of the citizens and keep them for his own. Now you can see why Kellivan would be rather upset with his statue exploding into millions of pieces.
Second problem: Well, this one is a little harder to explain... I probably should have mentioned this to begin with... but I didn't. Well...... The citizens of Windermereton are... well... they are oscillating floor fans... You know, like the ones you buy at Target or BIG LAWTS...
So why would rubber bands from the destroyed statue blown up with C4 and a bunch of angry oscillating fan people beating it with a stick end up in some utter demise? Easy. Since the citizens of the city are oscillating fan people, when a fuckload of rubber bands fall from the sky there is a huge problem.
Why? Well.... Rubber bands that fall from the sky above all the citizens in the town and the citizens that happened to be around the rubble of Kellivan's statue will get the very same rubber bands stuck around their rotating fan blades (Which if the blades stop rotating, the Windermere will die.)
So yeah. The ever-so-rare rubber bands falling from the sky getting stuck in the blades of the Windermeres all over town... not to mention the statue of Kellivan which is now destroyed... Not a good way to start out the week, eh?
Now I bet you can imagine why the Blowhards were rather displeased... Right? Their precious leader's statue (Which they erected for him to contain all the rubber bands he stole from the citizens) now destroyed by the very same citizens they are attempting to keep in check. How does this make the Blowhards look to Kellivan? Pretty fuckin' bade, mate. Pretty fuckin' bad.
So now the Blowhards are looking over the aftermath of what the angry Windermere citizens have done. Many citizens are dead from the rubberbands falling into the rotating blades (the very same blades that kept them alive) which caused them to stop and much else (Including the town) completely destroyed from the falling statue rubble.
What to do? What to do... The Blowhards called a meeting quick before Kellivan ever called their head guy in to talk to them. They had to create a solution for the citizen's outburst before Kellivan ended up firing them or taking away their precious poodulldropplet paycheck.
The Blowhards devised a plan. A plan to throw each and every citizen of Windermereton that wasn't one of them into check. A plan to keep everyone within a flip of a simple switch.
Since each and every Windermere needed portable battery supply (which they used to keep their blades spinning) the Blowhards knew each and everyone needed to recharge their battery pack via the city's power supply. What would happen next? Simple. The Blowhards would make it seem like the statue incident was a mere mishap and that they wanted to give something to the citizens to show how "grateful" they are by giving each citizen a new batter pack and ordering a recall for the old ones since they would no longer charge due to the city's change in power (which was all a gimmick to get everyone to give up their power supply)
After doing so, the new batteries given to the citizens would be implanted with a control chip which controlled each and everyone's fan speed, oscillation function, and all their thoughts.
All and all, they pitched this idea to Kellivan who loved every inch of the plan and even upped the Blowhard's pay by 23,800 poodulldropplets. Talk about a giant dick in the ass of the Windermereton citizens... And they didn't even know it. The Blowhards called their plan "The Falling" which went into play as soon as they had the batteries implanted with the chips and shipped out to each citizen's home where they sent back the old battery to the Blowhards. Talk about a plan...
Remember how I mentioned population in the very beginning? This is where this number came into play. The Blowhards created a massive collection of screens which monitored each and every citizen. They could do nearly anything they wanted from this board... Anything from make a citizen work a certain job to killing one off. It was simple, efficient and profitable. Each and every citizen by getting one of these new batteries was now owned by the Blowhards...
So what now? The utter demise of a group of citizens has taken place... Nothing can be done... Nothing at all, right? Well.... Not exactly. It had been a few weeks after the Blowhards distributed the new batteries out and got the number of how many citizens were in the city working for them. Everyone was accounted for.... Except one fan.
This is the story of a old fan by the name of Dal Fervitz. Dal lived near the very edge of town... that far edge nobody ever went near or hardly knew of. He lived in the back of a old utility trailer where he made a living building clock-radios out of wood. He was a talented fan, one nobody really knew but they loved his product. He lived and kept to himself... he barely knew about the outside world other than when the postal fan would come by and pick up his stock of clock-radios. Well, one day... the postal fan never came again... (We all know why, but Dal didn't due to his shelter form the outside world...)
Dal wondered why the postal fan never came again so despite his fear and the unknown... he left the utility trailer.
And that's where I leave off for now... See ya for round two later.
Listening to: Raven hitting VTEC
Reading: VTEC instruction manual
Watching: Civics bringin' er' to redline
Playing: VTEC: When the clutch drops
Drinking: Magic VTEC oil