Ich Bin Ein Berliner

[MethodicalSlacker]

"This morning—on this very day, though I do not know what day it truly is or how long I have spent in a near-comatose state—has marked the beginning of a series of great changes in my life. Namely, the numbering of my days has readily shown itself to me. A number usually quite hidden by all sorts of artifices, such as the appearance of youthfulness and the lack of human capability to visually witness, or to mentally intuit, the raw enumeration of the time they have on this Earth. None such as I have been entered in a position like this—

"Well, actually, it seems that would be untruthful, perhaps even misleading. This is at least the seventh time that this has occurred, this "Survival of the Fittest". Oh, what a misnomer that is; if this Man-Catcher is any indication, the Fittest does not survive, but the Luckiest. Those fortunate enough to be dealt hands with firearms attached, or bladed weapons, not some-such non lethal crowd control device. A scary implement, but not a difficult one to avoid, or dodge, or counterattack in some way. The only truly effective use is to keep hostages, and in that sense one must have a partner with some kind of lethal weapon as insurance, and the chances of that partner not taking an opportunistic stance and realizing that their own partner does not have a lethal weapon and ambushing them while they have a man pinned down is—

"I digress, though not as much as a viewer may believe. I exist currently in a 'unique' situation, with 'unique' circumstances, in a 'unique' place. There was no dry run for this, nor was it expected in any capacity, but, if I may be so bold, I am not wholly without information. This information has not been explicitly implied, but, rather, duly inferred. I have not been placed on this island with random persons—a cursory walkabout has revealed several of my classmates, still asleep, are littered throughout this island. In fact, I would wager that all of the senior class of George Hunter High School are here, at least, those who went on the trip. Indeed, if the display I saw in my "dream" was not such, but truly reality, then it is practically guaranteed that they are here, and that is problematic for a number of reasons.

"The first is that they will kill each other.

"I have no delusions regarding this. I know enough about my compatriots and contemporaries to understand that a peaceable solution, though the moralistic ideal, is impossible to achieve. We are not unified. There is no underlying cause or motive behind our schooling, nor is there any characteristic or trait that gives us a common identity. Many of us, in our mundane lives, had fierce disagreements and arguments with one another that went far beyond the boundaries of civility, and no doubt will those tensions flare up to their true incendiary potential once everyone is awake and interacting with one another. Additionally, those of us genetically predisposed to violence will begin to partake at a moment's notice. The unstable will be let to run amok, those with any sort of power back home will attempt to recapture it here, the illusion of an opportunity for escape will quickly present itself, and very, very quickly, pandemonium will arise. A personalized apocalypse for our esteemed seniors.

"The second is that many of them will get the idea that it would be good or moral or even just merely useful to eliminate, well, yours truly.

"Understand, this is not universally terrible to know. I am fully cognizant of the fact that my classmates did not, generally, like me. The benefit of having people who you know want to see you die is that you know what threats to assess in a more immediate capacity. Of course, eventually every single human being on this island will be a threat to my personal safety due to the imperative circumstances hanging over our collective heads—the proverbial swords of Damocles that are these infernal collars—but the state of affairs need not begin that way. The opening hours of this fine day will be fruitful for those seeking to create bountiful partnerships with one another. However, I know several diametrically opposed individuals who would shoot me at a moment's notice. Perhaps keeping my charitable deeds a secret was a bad idea. If I had known that this would happen, I would have widely publicized my good character instead of letting my philosophical musings take center stage.

"For the most part, I seriously doubt the capacity of most of the people who endeavor to murder me to actually carry out the deed. Many of them are, speaking realistically, physically weaker than myself, and the likelihood of favorable weapon draws is decently low. For argument's sake, I will assume the most powerful weapon on this island to be an automatic rifle, a machine gun, or an explosive device, and for the weakest weapon to be a butter knife. Assigning totally useless items would make for an uninteresting game, unless such items were intended as handicaps for the already "fit". If provoked, I would be capable of defending myself. The internal spikes on the Man-Catcher can pierce flesh, likely, though to seriously kill with one would require some finesse. At the very least, I could detain my adversary, pin them to the floor, and using my shod foot stomp their face into hamburger meat. California smile.

"But that brings us to our third problem. Namely, that I have a sense of morality.

"It is not just to kill innocents. It is not right to bring harm to those scared, bewildered individuals who currently are waking from their slumbers, looking at their surroundings, and likely weeping, sobbing, and vomiting up the toxins that put us to sleep. It is not even justifiable to steal from them, nor is it wise to commit any crime that cannot be justified.

'"Cannot be justified.' Ah, those are our three key words.

"For, you see, I also believe that crimes should be followed by punishments. The murder of an innocent can be repaid with murder of the perpetrator and be excused morally. Theft from a robber is just—so is assault of an attacker. All of what would otherwise be considered clear acts of injustice are, in these contexts, morally justifiable and necessary deeds. To commit "crimes" against a criminal, too, is not possible—to borrow from Eastern schools of thought upon which I admit a general lack of knowledge, they have a 'karmic debt' that must be paid off.

"Ahem.

"I do not wish to die, and in order to survive on this island risen from the bowels of Hell, one must kill.

"Therefore, I hereby set forth my intention, my aims, my thesis: those who have not killed shall not be killed by my hand under any circumstance, save mercy in the face of an overwhelmingly painful injury or psychological damages. Individuals who have killed one other shall be questioned for statements of intent under duress of this man-catcher's gaping maw, and subsequently punished in some way. And, lastly, sinners who have killed more than one other will be mercilessly and ruthlessly hunted down and, to the best of my ability, made to pay for their sins and transgressions via bloodshed. I assume that there will shortly be some way of understanding who has slain and who has been slain, as total information blindness makes little sense from the standpoint of this as a 'game' that is meant to be 'played', as it has been referred to by those currently keeping us in line. For the time being, then, I shall gather supplies and form alliances, finding like-minded individuals to help keep the peace. Then, I shall bide my time.

"Should I violate this intent, then I should be held accountable. Under pressing circumstance, it may become necessary. However, that is little excuse. Under pressing circumstance, it may become necessary, in the outside world—a designation that horrifies me to have to utter despite the fact that by all accounts we are effectively alone here—it might be necessary to commit crimes under certain circumstances. That does not exonerate those criminals from their misdeeds. This parable-esque experience, here, will separate the wheat from the chaff. The moral from the immoral. Not to say that the moral will prevail, but that it will be clear by the end on what side of the fence we all stood.

"…

"I…

"Dear lord, I absolutely loathe that I must say this on record, but I find it prudent to mention and absolutely dread the thought of what might happen if I take these words to my grave.

"I intend to suspend my prior moratorium on intimacy and physical contact of a sexual nature, and though this may seem as though it is an item of discussion best left unmentioned, I desire that the viewer or listener or whatsoever person who hears later of my run knows that I am only doing this because there may be some situations in which it might be tactically beneficial to enter a partnership of a more personal nature in order to secure resources or companionship for my psychological benefit for the purpose of victory.

"Okay? Is that satisfactory? I believe I have addressed any potential misfortune that may be used against my character at any future point, after I leave this place—and rest assured, I shall. If a politically incorrect or impolite word slips from my lips, I'm sure that the stress of my situation is justification enough for the more ideologically left among you to consider it water under the bridge after I leave this place.

"Now, some statements that serve as running contingency plans in consideration of the all-too-great possibility that I do not survive.


"Misty, if you are watching this, know that I cannot stop you from viewing nor do I wish you stop viewing, but also understand me when I say that in the coming days you may see me do awful, grotesque things. If you do not wish to view me commit these acts, then turn the screen off and await my return. It would also be permissible to read a scholarly article or news report about me, because if I fall, then somebody will notice.

"Father, comfort mother. Mother, do not weep for me. If you must watch, know that, should I perish, you will be first on my mind, and that I want you both to live your best lives from here on out.

"I have declared my intention. Now, it is time to put my money where my mouth is. So. To. Speak.

"My collar itches."

[B049 — Max Rudolph: Game Start]

---

He stepped away from the camera and gazed out from within the trees lining the outside of the rice paddy, feeling the warm summer air roll off of his shoulders and rustle his hair. His assigned weapon lay in the grass, inwardly curved teeth glinting in the light of the sun. All bark, he thought, letting the second half of that statement resonate through omission. Twenty yards to the east was the spot where he had initially awakened, and three yards east of that was a puddle of vomit, a product of initial nausea upon awakening. Max had already consumed half a bottle of water with the intention to re-hydrate himself, and a piece of bread was missing from one of his loaves.They had done little to satiate the new hunger he felt in his stomach.

Ideally, Max would have the ability to power off the camera at this point in time. Such an action would carry with it a three-pronged strike of ethos—knowing where to end his thought—logos—endowing Max with the appearance of a reasonable person, still, who knew when his audience would logically wish to avert their eyes (a stretch, but given the circumstances, the best anyone could do)—and pathos—letting his words hang in the air with a mood of suspense about them. More selfishly, he desired to be alone with his thoughts in these precious moments of calm before the hurricane of biblical proportions that was to follow.

However, with the cameras always running and with eyes always, he must assume, planted firmly upon him, he felt pressure to never be still for too long. Max unfolded his map and looked at the most prominent buildings and places of interests. Deathtraps, the lot of them, but the area surrounding would be a good place to catch people—whether figuratively or, since he had the ability, literally—on their approach and talk them into forming a party with him. There must be others sharing his sense of…

Well, he hesitated to deem it 'virtue', but it was not sin.

Not yet.

[Max Rudolph continued in Bloom Nobly, in a Transient Life.]