Saturday, February 14, 2009

Love Bomb

February 10th.

Holidays are many things; most people either seem to enjoy them immensely, or dislike them for the reasons that the majority do. We at the Eros Group side with the minority in that many holidays are simply consumerist whore outs, but as our name implies we represent the love which is found among us all, the real love, not some socialist catch phrase. We stand here on Valentine’s Day not just to rebel, but also to unite; for violence is a dying method. It is better to give than to take.

Join us this 14th, at 8:30pm.

Jake turns the rather professional looking white flyer over and the only thing on the other side is ‘Eros Group’ in large pink letters -- the same which were on the initial side. He drops the piece of paper back to the ground without ill-conscience, as they are literally everywhere.

“This is big” he explains to his friends on the phone.

February 11th.

“Hey! Did you hear about the thing?”

“What thing?”

“I dunno there is some sort of like...rebel group that is planning a Valentine’s Day thing.”

“Oh, that thing...”

“What, you don’t like it?”

“Like it? It’s terrorism! I’m kind of scared, to be honest.”

“Terrorism? Com’n. It’s exciting!”

February 12th.

“New in the News this week, it seems that what police have surmised is a ‘small collection of individuals' otherwise known as the ‘Eros Group’ has something rather exciting in store for Halifax on Valentine’s Day, but the question that all of Canada is now wondering is: Should the rest of the cities also be so lucky? CBC’s Jason Neumas has more.

I stand here on the rather clean looking streets of downtown Halifax, but just a few days ago, that was not the case at all.

“Yeah, there were just thousands of them.” -- Susan Minnes, Student.

Thousands, of these. The rather innocuous looking flyers seem like just another eccentric holiday message, but a closer look by the Halifax’s RCMP revealed quite a bit more.

“You see here how it says ...for violence is a dying method. It is better to give than to take. Well, that can be interpreted rather violently, in fact, and so we are also taking every precaution.” -- Corporal Sergeant Dunnie, RCMP

Some feel that the extent of the precautions are unwarranted.

“To be honest I feel like this is exactly what these so called ‘rebels’ want; they want us to stay in side and make is feel bad for buying some chocolates for our girlfriends. ‘Consumerist’ whatever and all that stuff -- all these police presence is exactly what they want if you ask me.” -- Jason Spez, Student.

While others have adopted a rather carefree, perhaps even carpe diem-like attitude; some of this based on internet buzz.

“Yeah man, they’re calling it the ‘Love Bomb’ -- it’s all over the web. This thing has gone viral. No one knows what it is, but everyone has just started opening up, you know? Telling those people from their past how they feel.” -- Alex Goodspeed, Resident.

With Valentine’s Day only two days away, the suspension will only build here in Halifax, and around the Eros group, with their aimed Cupid’s Arrow. Jason Neumas, CBC News.

February 13th.

So you guys must have heard about this ‘Love Bomb’ situation going on up there somewhere in Canada, right? This terrorist group is planning some sort of bullshit for Valentine’s Day.


I know, right? Yeah nice plan asshole, disrupt people on fucking Valentine’s Day, yeah that will get us to jump onto your bullshit cause: ‘Hold on Honey, our expensive candlelit diner may be interrupted. I see some dissidents outside of our restaurant trying to blow us up for being consumerist....

...whew, looks like they’re too uneducated and short-sighted to come up with anything beyond a bunch of flyers and a malfunctional bomb they bought on, looks like they’re giving up and going home. Did I mention I love you Honey?


Now, I don’t want to get off on a rant here, but I’m getting sick and tired of these sophomoric clown groups from whichever campus it happens to be thinking that they can simply enact social change by littering the streets with flyers critical of society with the expectation that same society will clean up after their mess--


I mean, fuck, I enact more social change in five minutes of broadcasting then these nitwits manage to achieve in their entire run has half-rate lifelong troublemakers and panhandlers. There is a point where coherent social analysis crosses over into simply not wanting to pull your own weight in society, and so getting off and by on the exhibitionist fumes of glorified violence, no matter how pink-laced and in sync with the holidays it may turn out to be--


But let’s face it folks, we are zombie buyers. I am. I might as well just print ‘My present is expensive because I’m so busy’ on my Valentine’s Day stuff but I don’t because my wife actually chooses to entertain the thin veil of illusion that surrounds holidays like this in the first place -- and who can blame her? We all want that emotion in the end, most of us just aren’t sure how to get it and so we hang so much expectation on a day that more or less sets it all up for us. The Eros Group isn’t going about this the right way, but surely these people will always be around so long as society is so utterly fucked beyond any collective psychological repair. So long as they decide to leave violence out of the equation, then I for one hope the insane ramblings of a leftist street person can unite at least a couple people. Com’n folks, let’s hear it for the love!


February 14th. Valentine's Day

“I’ll be watching you.” Mark says coldly to the so-called ‘psychic.’ As the most skeptical of the bunch, he is still confident enough to go forward. It’s not that he doesn’t have faith in the theory --because he does-- he just doesn’t have faith in the idiot which stands before him, slowly unwrapping a Charleston Chew candy bar and staring out the hotel window into the approaching night. Below, the crowd is forming, and they deserve what they are going to get. They need a real psychic for this to work, and Mark is afraid Ester’s selection in Simon is suspect. A small aptitude and a spacey brain is not enough. Anyone idiot has that. Provided he can, he still might mess it up.

“Curious thing to say to me.” Simon responds immediately, peeling back the wrapper on the chocolate bar and taking a sizable bite.

Kurtz, the IT guy, remains quiet as he fiddles with his equipment, tapping away on his laptop occasionally. There is a sound at the door and Kurtz freezes. Mark’s hand ventures down to his pistol while Simon takes another bite of Charleston Chew, still facing away and looking out of the window at the city below. “A lot of them down there” he mutters. The door’s electronic lock chimes; while Ester is due back, Mark is glad to confirm her red hair as she moves into the room.

“Update.” She asks simply, looking around.

Marks crosses his arms over his chest as if slightly annoyed with the question. “Oh we’re ready, right Kurtz?”

“Once he gets strapped in I’ll have to do a couple of last minute things, but we’re good to go.”

Mark continues. “This should go over without a hitch provided Mr. Candybar here is ready -- but you know what I’ve been thinking? I don’t know if I’m ready. I want to know about this guy before we move forward. No secrets; we’re in this together.”

Ester sighs, looking down at her watch for a moment and around the room. 8:09. “Ok, fine...” She walks over to Mark, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. Simon turns away from the window back to the room, his deep blue eyes as piercing as they are beyond. “Simon is, to me at least, my brother in law. None of you know about my sister because she refuses to speak me -- to either of us...but it wasn’t always like that. We were close friends once.”

Simon cuts in as Ester’s face begins to quiver and fall. “Me and Claire, my angel...well, we used to date. We were engaged, actually...” The strange man smiles to himself, the kind that is just sad to everyone else. Standing there like a child with a half-eaten piece of kids candy he exudes depression. Not exactly an impressive feat, though, and certainly not the one they were here for.

“She couldn’t take it.” Ester states flatly. “She’s just...” her sister cannot finish the description.

Mark feels bad about the love that was lost, but his apprehension holds now more than ever: Why choose some tag-along heartbroken loser for this? “’re better off without her, trust me.” He offers gently, glancing down at his watch.

“No...I’m not.” Simon whispers. He exhales rather loudly, scratching his head in psychological discomfort. He looks like he is about to say more, but he does not.

“ ready?” Kurts interjects from his seat at the desk behind the trio.

“Yeah cause if you can’t do this--”

“Then what?” Ester cuts in. “You’ve been showing reluctance this whole time to Simon. Do you want to sit in the chair, Mark? Do you know anyone who would?”

“Well, no I--”

“That’s right, so get positive.” She smiles past Mark to Simon, who returns hers with a shade of his own. “Simon can do this. I know he can.”

“Ok, let’s get you seated.” Kurts asserts into the conversation again, glancing at his own watch. He stands to proceed to the hotel desk chair which the team had earlier outfitted with the equipment: a neural interface helmet, heart chakra plate(s), and a special pair of nano-metallic gloves which will align specifically to Simon’s DNA when he puts them on.

The members of the Eros Group have all been involved in government projects for some reason or another. Civilian scientist stuff; none of them are trained assassins, but as a military engineer Mark had received some weapons training. Working with things that do not exist, the fringe walkers meticulously assemble their years of testing and planning around a man who is more of a mystery to them than any of the science they have seen thus far.

Strapping on the minimalist style helmet, Kurts poses a question: “Why don’t psychics just win the lottery? That would help us out so much--”

“No don’t--” Ester manages to get out.

Anger. “‘Cause I’m not some fucking whore, and it’s more complicated than what you can see with your little... vision.”

Mark is hit with a rush of seething red that is most assuredly not his own. Before he can even process what is happening he is breathing heavily: the bitterness seeps through everything to the bone. Blinding anger mixed with self-despair and a broken heart. After what seems like an eternity of this torturous state it slowly begin to fade away.

“...I’ll tell you what, you want the lottery numbers? You go find Claire -- she’s gotta be rich by now.” He struggles to slow his breathing. “Besides, that is precog.”

“Holy shit...” Kurts pants, holding his chest.

Ester begins to cry softy.

Mark is speechless.

Simon rubs his face, shaking his head slightly. “I’m... I’m sorry. I...” he trails off. “...Claire.

“Ok, we’re ready...” Kurtz announces softly, his face is white and it glances to Ester momentarily. “Are you OK?”

She nods silently, sniffing a couple times. Shaking her head and looking at her watch she tries to re-instill herself, a woman of confidence.

Perhaps these outburts are not new to Ester. Perhaps...this guy is for real. Mark struggles to accept what just transpired.

8:29. “Ok, gentlemen” Ester starts in a strong voice. “This is it. Here’s to history, and to the planet.” She smiles for Simon who looks up to return this to his close friend.

“Gentlemen, I’m sorry for what you experienced there.” He says honestly. “Those are the risks, but what are emotions if not the extremes? I promise you will like this better, just promise me you will hold onto love should you find it. Please do that.”

Mark nods. “I will” he states rather seriously, still in shock.

Simon glances up to Kurtz as he pulls on the shiny nano-metal gloves.

The IT wiz has moved back to the desk now. He types a couple commands and the equipment on Simon comes to life. Lights flash on the helmet, and the breastplate begins to emit an odd chiming.

“These gloves feel weird.”

“Good.” Ester smiles. “Do it, Simon.”

Simon positions his hands in a some strange way Mark does not recognize, slowly beginning to hum to himself in the chair as another smile creeps onto his face, only this time it is pure light. The last coherent thought any of them have: it is working. The emotion which takes over the room does not ‘hit’ in any abrasive way, rather it builds from inside, like a picture of heaven amassing over the pale veneer of reality that is the quiet hotel room. Depth. Their bodies are stripped away, and soon the ego as well. More depth. Mark, Ester, Kurtz, and Simon extend beyond the hotel, the block, and the city itself lifts up into the night. The lights of Venus; the eyes of Isis; far above is a single waiting figure, unadulterated by the time that would come after, she simply beckons closer the embrace of her friend, her smiling companion. Her hand is so close, and her eyes so divine.

My angel...I love you always.

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