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Record #7456 of John Doe's Journal: The Rise of Vlada

***Top Secret***

Description: As of date 9.9.2073 this document remains the very best source on the rise of the Nation of Vlada and the collapse of The Collective.

Reason for Top Secret Classification: Potential to inflame the masses against the government of Útlakshkan. The edited version of this document has been released and has greatly helped in gaining the support of the masses.

The radar stations have predicted that our area has only five more hours before the first of the missiles hit. The wave should come shortly after, and there is no reason to believe that anyone will survive. In each community, one being has volunteered to record and store the story of The Collective, and the rise of the Nation of Vlada. It is our goal that some will survive this impending Holocaust and will make use of this knowledge for rebuilding. To those who remain, this is our story...

For as long as we can remember, we have had no big wars. A longstanding truce between all of the protection companies kept all nuclear and biological weapons from being used in battle. The companies avoided war, knowing that a war would only weaken them, and cause them to lose customers. The people kept the them in check, and fighting was rare.

All of us were born into this world of freedom, and as a result it is my belief that most of us take it for granted. None of us remembers the era of government and war, though most of us know it was bad. However, some of us have always been intrigued by security that one says to give, and there have been a number of attempts to try it out. Most of them fell apart quickly, and they either returned to the ways of The Collective or killed themselves off. These attempts to restore the distant past never threatened The Collective. Until Vald came.

Around 6 months ago, Vald took control of a small group of teenagers that were toying with the ideas of socialism. He financed the group through his own funds, and provided them with welfare services for a small tax. These services had many similarities to the universal health care programs that had been adopted in most countries before they fell. As this group was made up of mostly teenagers, the occasional medical problems didn’t cost much, and the country (and Vald, who controlled the treasury) was doing well. Soon, more people began to join, seeing the many benefits and the small cost of the system. However, most of those who joined had some sort of problem that cost them large sums of money. They transferred this burden to the country, and the country began to run out of money. When the country reached a financial crisis (only 5 months after Vald took power), the people voted that it was acceptable to invade other countries in order to get the money to pay for it. The invasions quickly riled up the protection companies, and wars broke out. Vald’s first attack on a small island nearby pitted him against 3 different companies. Though the companies were rather small, together they managed to fend off the Nation of Vlada, and send them back to their home. That seemed to be the end of it, and any non-involved members of The Collective stopped paying attention. This was a mistake.

Three weeks after their failed attempt, they captured a convoy that was moving both nuclear and biological weapons to a site to be destroyed. Vald took them, and launched them before the theft was even reported. Chaos ensured, and the companies began firing back. However, they fired at the location the first weapons were launched from, which was where Vald had launched the missiles. That blast killed tens of thousands of innocent people, all having different protection companies, and mass war ensured. Now, over half of the whole world is dead, and missiles continue to fly. Nuclear missiles now have 20 minutes before they impact here, and the bio weapons will impact a half hour later, killing all of us. I'm enclosing this in my great grandmother's jewelry box, whoever finds this, please take care of it.
John Doe

Date: 17.3.2193


Devrim Algus read the paper over and over again in the seclusion of his small one-room apartment. Between each reading, he pulled the already closed curtains even more tightly shut, and checked to make sure the door was securely locked. Each time through, he felt the same sense of awe. After reading it for the fifth time, he began to copy it down onto a piece of paper. He muttered under his breath, “If I'm going to turn this over to those people, I at least want a copy. I risked my life for it, I can keep a copy.”

Indeed Devrim had risked his life, just that morning in order to secure the original uncensored copy of John Doe's Journal. As Devrim copied down the journal entry, he thought back to the theft, and began checking the door again. It was, of course, still locked.

Ten minutes later, Devrim finished copying the last word, and promptly spilled ink all over it when the doorbell rang. “D*mn!” he swore out loud, quickly trying to wipe off the excess ink. He got most of it off the table, and the copy he had made could still be read. The doorbell rang again. He slowly got up from the table and deposited the original copy into a small metal filing cabinet that had been built into the wall long ago, and locked it.
He then warily moved to the door, and slowly pealed off the tape that he had put over the peephole. He looked through the tiny hole, and saw a small man, wearing a dark black coat with a abnormally large hood pulled down over his face. Devrim slowly opened the door, and ushered the hooded man inside.
This man walked around the room a couple of times, glancing at the closed windows, and took out a piece of black duck tape and covered up the peephole again. He then sat down at one of the two dull metal chairs near the table, and slowly pulled back his hood. His purple eyes glanced down at the copied entry and slowly cracked open his mouth and asked, "I hope you don't think I'm going to pay you for this?"
"I've decided to keep a copy for myself, I have the original, unharmed and with the official seal."
"We said nothing about you getting to keep a copy." The small man said, becoming a bit agitated. "The deal was you get the entry, and give it to us."
"I'm changing it. I want a copy. Don't worry, nobody'll see it, but I will have a copy. You know you don't have a choice anyways, nobody else could get you this."
"Fine. But don't even think about selling it again. Anybody else gets a hold of this..." He let the threat hang there. Both of them knew the resources he possessed.
"Good." Devrim got up from the table and walked over to the metal filing cabinet. He unlocked it, and took out the original copy of John Doe's journal, stained green from the bioweapons of centuries ago.
He sat back down at the table, and slowly pushed the green parchment over to the small man. He then sat back in his chair, and waited for several minutes as the man looked over the document. Eventually, the small man nodded his head, and reached into his pocket. He pulled a sack of gold from his pocket, and slid it across the table to Devrim.
It took Devrim only half a minute before he had convinced himself that the gold was genuine. He then got up from his chair, uncovered the peephole, looked through it to make sure nobody was walking the halls, and opened it. The small man put his hood back upon his head, and silently walked out.

Date: 9.9.2193 3:14 A.M.

Devrim awoke to the sound of gunfire outside his apartment. He had just gotten out of bed when the door to his apartment abruptly broke down and two men bearing government uniforms rushed into the apartment, pointing their large machine guns at him. The sounds of battle continued to rage out in the hall.

“Where is the Journal?” one of the officials asked, “tell us now or you die.”

Dread filled Devrim, he knew that he would die anyways for stealing the document. He had been careful for months after the theft and had kept a gun with him constantly, but recently he had grown lax and his gun now lay in the same cabinet as his copy of the paper.

“It's over in that cabinet over there,” he said, pointing to it. “I'll go get it for you.”

Both men quickly moved between him and the drawer. “I'll get it. You stay right there.”

Devrim paled. That had been his only realistic chance, and now he knew he would die. Knowing this, he decided to make a try for the door, but found that he couldn't move. His feet felt as though they were rooted to the floor, and the roots only grew stronger as he realized this. Though he had been a government agent, he had never actually been in a life threatening situation before, and realized how quickly he would have died if he had been.

Suddenly, the one agent who still had his gun pointed at Devrim lowered it. Soon, his entire body followed the gun down to the ground, a red stain appearing in the middle of his chest. Moments later, the other agent fell, blood spurting this time from the side of his neck.

In the doorway, a small man in a black coat stood, and slowly lowered his gun. Before Devrim had a chance to thank his savior, the man gestured with his hand and two very large men came into the room and began dragging Devrim out. “We are your friends, but we need to leave now. More of them will be here soon” the small man said, moving across the room.”However, we can't trust you yet” he said as he took a different gun out from under his coat and shot Devrim in the back of the neck. Devrim instantly went limp and the two men carried him out of the room.

The small man walked over to the filing cabinet, typed in the passcode, and took out both the copy of the journal and Devrim's gun. He then quickly departed from the room, and left the building.

Date: 9.9.2193 6:12 A.M.

“About time you woke up” the short man said. Devrim looked around and saw that he was now in a small room with absolutely no furniture besides the one uncomfortable chair that he occupied. “Now listen up, don't talk until I'm done. First off, I'm sorry about you being discovered, we got raided earlier this morning and they found one of our copies of the journal. Some idiot also decided to try to save his life by telling who gave it to us. Anyways, that guy also talked about all of our operations so now our entire network is compromised. Therefore, we are moving up our schedule and beginning the revolution today. We are distributing the real journal entry as fast as we can, and in two hours, we hope to have mass protests. Meanwhile, we are in position to seize control of a number of arms bases and we even think we may be able to get some nuclear missiles and bioweps. At exactly 7:04 we will use the Law of Succession in order to declare all members of the resistance free from the government. We will then invite anyone who wants to join to succeed with us as long as they agree to live non-aggressive lives in the spirit of The Collective. I really don't know why the government let a Law of Succession be put in place, but it's there and we can use it. The government can't attack us without breaking its own law, which we hope would start a massive revolt. Any questions?”

Devrim could barely make sense of what the short man was telling him, and said nothing. The short man started talking again, “So, what we want from you is a total denunciation of the government. We've been watching you, and we know that you have more than a passing interest in The Collective, otherwise you wouldn't have risked your life helping us, not for the small price we paid you. You are a high ranking member, and having you officially resign and personally invoke the Law of Succession would gain huge support for our movement. It would be even better if you could name off laws that they have secretly broken, that would outrage people even more. Of course if you don't want to do this you don't have to, but you need to decide before 6:30 today so we can plan. Call me at 1801-1776, ask for Frihet. The door's unlocked, go right, and you'll be able to leave the building. Don't go left unless you wish do die. Good day, I wait for your call..” With that, he exited the room, turned left, and disappeared.

Date: 9.9.2193 6:19 P.M.


Ever since leaving the building that the short man had taken him to, Devrim had been roaming the city. He roamed, and thought about a number that he had been given on his first day as an officer of the government. He remembered being guided into a small room with absolutely no furniture besides one uncomfortable chair in the center. He remembered the man's voice very clearly saying, “If you ever discover a plot to overthrow this government, call 1911-1798 and ask for Serikali, he'll tell you what to do.”

While Devrim thought, he continued to walk. He walked past all of the important governmental buildings, staring at them, and wondering what life would be like without them, without the laws and stability that the buildings symbolized. He walked past the prison, and wondered what would happen to the prisoners when the revolution truly started. He walked past the greatest marvels of society, and wondered how the h*ll these breathtaking monuments could be built without the unity of the people under one government, working hard to create great marvels like this. He walked down to the poorer areas of the city, with the giant stone buildings, and wondered if a revolution would make the whole world look like this He heard the gunfire that constantly sounded in the district, and walked unflinchingly through it. He saw a dead body laying on the ground in front of him, and wondered how much more of this there would be without the strong police force of the government. He walked by the hospitals, and wondered how people would get care if they were forced to pay for it. He walked past the city's nuclear and bioweapons plants, and wondered if a revolution would cause another disaster like the one that happened to The Collective. He walked up to the official monument to The Collective, and read the plaque that stood there.

This Monument,
is dedicated to
The Collective,
Who kept peace on Terra
for the longest period of time
known to man.
Here's to their government,
hoping that this government,
may one day become
as good
and better.


Devrim read the plaque, thought about The Collective, and its demise. He read the plaque once more, took out his ugly green phone, and typed in eight digits...





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