The Unknown: The Red Line.
  Wxcept Marquardt. No socialist he. Forgive me, but we met some strange types. Those militia people in Michigan, whose rabid enthusiasm for our work made us genuinely uneasy. Or those naked people in that hot tub out in Frisco, those kind hosts who, when pressed, admitted that they were from another planet. And let’s not forget the anarchists who frowned us down in the Dreamtime Village near Madison. And yeah, the Christian Right was hiding in the most left-seeming folk at major chain stores continentwide.

But Frank believed in a highly structured society in which the people were utterly subservient to the needs of the larger state. Society as machine. People=cogs, to be broken and replaced. Straight lines, right angles, everything white, and top-down command structures. I had dreams that night of being pursued down long hospital corridors by a gigantic punchclock.

He only talked about it once. I wonder if he was bullshitting me . . .
 

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The Unknown at Spineless Books.

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