Ficlets

The Party Documentation contained the entirety of recorded mankind: all media catalogued and archived. Or so I thought.

In MIC Warehouse 42 I stumbled upon an ancient piece of computer equipment. It was labeled: “Google Cache”.

As Deputy Minister of Information and Culture, the word “cache” I readily understood, but nowhere in the Docs was there any mention of a “Google”.

Were they incomplete?

In no time I had decoded its contents. Millions of fragments of text and images. More unknowns: blog, rock and roll, DMCA . I pieced together a blasphemous story.

The Docs were censored.

Not long after, the Party found me. Penalty for High Treason: death.

But here I sit, rescued by a ragtag group calling themselves a rebellion. Their camp smells of waste, but a beautiful music wafts from the tent of their leader.

My heart races with the tune, and in a jolt of sound, my guard smiles and whispers: “Power chord.”

The music ends, and I’m ushered in to meet their leader:

The last rock hero.