Category Archives: Google-fu
Escape from Hell memory: I saw part of this movie years ago on vacation. I was wired and staying up way too late and it was on a Christian station at about two in the morning (this is also how I saw my very first Christian movie, Pamela’s Prayer, btw). I started watching right around the scene where the nice dad gets roasted. (Spoiler!)
As with most Christian films, we begin with a Bible verse. This time, it is the wailing and gnashing of teeth bit, Matthew 13: 50-51, natch. Dour singers chant Gregorianly, and there are spooky pictures of people who are presumably hanging out in the bowels of Hell, screaming and shit.
We cut in and out to some doofus who looks like he’s on an operating table in a furnace room (wut?), and being worked over by two doctors. For the sake of clarity, I will reveal their names now: the two doctors are Marissa and Carl, and the sad sack patient is their friend and fellow doctor, Eric Robinson.
I can only presume that Marissa is In Luv with Eric, because she’s crying (unless this is just a sign of her Womanly Sensitivity), while Carl is losing patience (ha!) with the patient and resorts to simply punching him in the chest.
Eric jerks back to life, and mutters something urgent to Marissa. (It’s a good thing that this DVD has subtitles, because the sound quality suuuuucks and I would never have gotten it otherwise: it’s “Loose lips sink ships.”) Carl gives Eric a nice shot of morphine, and rolls him back into the hospital.
Like so many movie hospitals, this one is extremely ill-lit. Hell, out in the halls, I’m surprised anyone can see their hand in front of their face.
Now that Eric is in a real room and under sedation, Carl asks Marissa if she “put him up to this.” She denies this, not without umbrage, and darts into the dim, dank hallway, then up some even darker stairs (safety first!) to the hospital’s roof, where she sees a diner sign with the words “Loose Lips Sink Ships” on it. The sign is flat to the ground, though, such that you can only read it FROM ABOVE.
“He can see it!” breathes Marissa before running back into the hospital.
This is one of those wacky things where you give someone a “test” before a near-death experience, and if they pass, it means Jesus is real, right?
The morphine seems to have little to no effect on Doc Robinson, who wakes up AGAIN, dashes out of his hospital room and evades the hospital’s one security guy.
“YAH!” Eric cries as he exits the hospital, shoving over an empty wheelchair that is not in his way IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER. He drives off in an ambulance, so he can remain as unobtrusive as possible as he makes his escape.
Carl and Marissa completely and utterly SUCK at finding ambulances that have been commandeered by drugged-up doctors (that are being driven around town WITH THEIR LIGHTS ON), and apparently so do the police. About an hour after the escape, Carl realizes he can talk to Eric via the comm in the ambulance, and urges Eric to pull over and wait for help.
Eric doesn’t answer. With the lights of the ambulance flashing (wut WUT WUT), Eric drives up to a church.
I guess he doesn’t feel the need to go right up to the front door. Instead, he parks waaaaay away from the front, choosing to make a mad dash through a graveyard in the middle of the night.
Sure, it makes no sense, but boy, it’s OMINOUS, isn’t it?
In a genre that tends to be embarrassingly white, Escape From Hell at least scores a point for casting a black man as the minister. And refreshingly, his reaction to Eric’s confused ramblings is pretty realistic—he thinks Eric is drunk or high or on the run from the police.
But no, Eric claims that he “brought it back,” “this thing from Hell” and “it keeps chasing me.”
The minister is understandably skeptical, but pushed Eric for “what’s going on.” That’s all it takes for Eric, back from a near-death experience and on the run from demons to tell his story…
And so we go back…back…alllll the way back in time to…
ONE MONTH AGO
Seems Eric is suffering from depression: “running scared” and “empty inside,” and even though he is burning through every antidepressant he can find, no one at the hospital even suspects that he is having any personal problems.
This is hardly surprising. After all, Eric is a nonbeliever, and deep depression is the only natural response to not believing in God, right?
“I was in the business of saving lives, but I didn’t even know how to save my own.”
And somehow, I am sure that Eric’s clinical depression will magically disappear once he has Jesus in his heart.
How insulting. Both to atheists and to people with depression.
Eris is an emergency medicine physician, and is on duty with a little girl with a snake bite is brought in with her parents. This kid is easily the best actor in the movie, and it’s a shame when the focus shifts from her to her father, whose heart attack is brought on by the stress of his daughter’s injury.
When the heart patient, Garrison, is resting quietly, Eric goes in to check on him, and so does the hospital’s Resident Reverend, who goes around praying for people.
Book: Captain, do you mind if I say grace?
Mal: Only if you say it out loud.
Eric asks him what he is praying for, and when the reverend answers “his salvation,” Eric responds:
“Well, he’s a pretty nice guy. You’d be better off praying for his arterial blockage.”
At that moment, I kinda love Eric.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m well aware that the movie will show Eric to be wrong, wrong, WRONG. As we all know, being a devoted husband, an involved father, a selfless guy won’t get you into HEAVEN at the end of the day, will it?
Speaking of said nice guy, Hospital Reverend pops open his Bible right there and starts reading to Eric. I mean, RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF THE UNCONSCIOUS GUY WITH THE MASSIVE HEART PROBLEMS.
“I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God, and the books were open, and another book was open, which was the Book of Life, and whoever’s name was not found written in the Book of Life was cast into the lake of fire.”
And then another book was open. And then another book. And then another other book.
There were a lot of books.
Oh, and again (because I can’t let this go), JUST KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE LAKE OF FIRE IN FRONT OF THE PATIENT WITH HEART PROBLEMS, DICKWEED
Eric asks a good question, about why a loving god would create a hell. So I give props to the writers for even having Eric ask the question in the first place.
Even if Hospital Reverend dodges it like a pro boxer:
“Why would anyone reject the love and mercy of God?”
BECAUSE WE DON’T BELIEVE IN HIM, JERK
He pulls the lame “If you reject God, you are choosing to go and be tortured forever, so it’s totes not God’s fault.” But before he can spout anymore boilerplate apologetics, Garrison starts muttering, “…ducks be not proud…” and Hospital Reverend skedaddles so Eric can actually get so doctor work done in a hospital.
Yeah, Garrison is saying “ducks be not proud,” and points if you can guess why he’s saying that.
Garrison comes to, and turns out he had a near-death experience and everyone else missed it. He cries and tells Eric that he didn’t want to come back, which is something I hope he doesn’t share with his wife and daughter.
Turns out Garrison had a little adventure: he went through the Sliders tunnel…
…and also looked down at the hospital roof, where he saw the diner sign with “ducks be not proud” on it.
So we know it was for realsies.
Garrison wanted to GO TOWARDS THE LIGHT.
But they brought him back to his loving and devoted family.
Eric brings Doctor Marissa into the picture—apparently, she documents people’s near-dear experiences, like a cut-rate Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. (You can read more about Kubler-Ross and her unscience in this Slate article.)
Eric also brings Carl into the story. Buddy Carl is the resident cardiologist, and expositions for us that there isn’t much hope for Garrison, who needs a new heart but has a rare blood type.
Now that the secondary characters are in the picture, it’s time to explore Eric’s deep personal torment, the main reason that he’s “rejected” the love of Jesus: his own father rejected him.
We learn that Eric’s father abandoned his family and Eric hasn’t seen him in quite some time. But now Dad is back in town and anxious to make amends.
I admit, this is a tough situation for Dad. He’s been out of the picture for years and his son has every reason to hate him. How do you approach someone under those circumstances? Maybe there isn’t even a “best” way to do it. It’s a fraught and emotional thing no matter how you go about it.
But hey, you know what might not be the best way to meet up with the son you abandoned?
Find out where he works, hang out in the parking lot of said workplace for hours like a creepy stalker, then sneak up behind him and scare the crap out of him!
Just a thought.
Doesn’t Dad kinda look like a poor man’s Roy Scheider?
SeaQuest! I used to watch that when I was a kid.
Anyway, Eric is understandably suspicious of Dad’s motives, even when Dad gives him back the money Eric loaned him years ago. But Dad is sober now, and owes it all to JESUS!
This just shows how heartless Eric is. As we all know, nobody ever lies about being a Christian, and it is impossible to change and improve one’s life without becoming one, so Dad deserves immediate and unconditional forgiveness and acceptance from the son he abandoned!
Again, I kinda love Eric for his response to his Dad’s “I came to Christ…all the way” bit:
“I just left a man who really loves his family. … You’re a worthless piece of human garbage—you betrayed your own family for a bottle. … You wanna show me where God is in all that?” *rips up Dad’s check and throws it in his face*
I know we’re supposed to know that Eric is WRONG for not embracing New Christian Dad (now with extra sober!), but all I can say is…Go Eric!
More next time on Marissa’s near-death “studies” and Eric’s Daddy Issues.
Straight has taken a day off from Paul. Surely this will be a true test of their relationship. Remember, Paul was injured in March, and it’s now around the end of May. So for about two months, Paul and Straight have been together every day, for hours a day. This is literally the first day they haven’t seen each other since they met. I don’t think I’ve ever had a boyfriend this clingy.
Straight has gone to a pretty interesting location: the salt mines of southeastern Michigan. Check out this article from The Detroit News and its awesome pictures and you’ll see where he is.
The zealots have transformed the underground salt mines into their headquarters–not only a mission central and book depository, but also a sort of Underground Railroad station for believers on the run.
Simple but genius.
Or complicated but dumb, when you think about it. Check this out:
“How many people live here?” [Straight asked]
“About a hundred and fifty permanent and fifty to a hundred passing through at any given time.” [his host, Simeon, said]
“It’s amazing you can feed and house so many.”
Straight’s host shrugged. “We’ve got fourteen hundred acres down here, fifty miles of tunnels. The water and ventilation systems are huge–had to be, to accomodate the mining machinery. Even back then they could pump in a hundred thousand cubic feet of air a day. These mines were worked successfully for almost two hundred years.”
That’s nice, Simeon, but you didn’t answer the question: HOW DO THEY EAT???
I really hope the zealots have a Costco membership, because it’s giving me a headache just thinking about getting enough food and water and soap and toilet paper 1100 feet underground to sustain 200-250 people every single day.
Forget about shuttling the refugees up and down and in and out–the mere task of getting the most basic supplies to the “underground city” would draw huge amounts of attention to the site. And what about the use of water and energy? That won’t draw suspicion? What do they do with their trash and human waste? Can you imagine how much trash a community of two hundred produces in a mere week? It’s not like they’re high up in the mountains and living off the land–they’re in an underground cave in Michigan! They can’t exactly sustain themselves.
And just to make sure that things are as complicated as it’s possible for them to be, everyone uses Biblical code names for themselves. (Except for Straight, who is called “The Professor,” and Paul, who will later be called “The Doctor.”)
To be clear, plenty of people already know each other. Simeon’s real name is Clarence, and he grew up with Straight and they both became professors at the University of Chicago. Quelle coincidence! Now, strangely enough, only
Stuart Straight goes by “The Professor,” even though they both are. Kinda like how Paul is always “Dr. Stepola” to everyone he meets, but Straight is never “Dr. Rathe” or “Professor Rathe,” except underground, where “The Professor” is just a codename.
This emphasis on codenames reaches ridiculous heights when the following takes place:
A couple in their late fifties entered [the library], accompanied by a younger sturdy blonde man. “I was boring the professor with tales of our city,” the host said. “It’s been a while since he’s been here. Stuart, you know Abraham and Sarah–” they embraced him–“and this is Isaac.”
“I’m not their son,” the younger man said, shaking Straight’s hand.
“I didn’t think so.”
[LITERALLY THE NEXT WORDS OUT OF SIMEON’S MOUTH]
“Let me introduce three more recent arrivals,” Simeon said. “Silas, Barnabas, and Damaris, who may have some insight on your proposal. Folks, meet the professor.”
Straight greeted the two men but paused when he got to the woman called Damaris. “No names,” Straight said, “but I believe we recently met over lunch in Washington, D.C.”
“We did,” Angela said.
So, Stuart and Clarence know each other. And now Abraham and Sarah know Stuart. And Angela and Stuart know each other, but they’re going to play a game that they don’t, so they can keep using stupid codenames???
Basically, you all freaking know each other. SO USE YOUR OWN DAMN NAMES, WHY DON’T YOU???
To paraphrase Dave Barry, the underground zealots are about as clandestine as the NFL.
I’m not feeling working on the timeline or Chapter 16 tonight, though they are both partially done. Instead, I feel like looking at pictures of hot actors.
So let’s cast Soon!
For Paul, I’m trying to think of guys who are really good at playing colossal tools. I think I had a bit more of a sense of humor about it all back in Babylon Rising, since Michael Murphy is such an over-the-top Indiana Jones stereotype, but it’s less funny when the guy is an abusive jerk. Also, all we know about Paul, physically, is that he’s tall.
Nic Cage, maybe?
(Picture by Warner Bros.)
Here he looks like he’s angrily contemplating Jae’s lack of talent with electronics.
Aaron Eckhart is good at playing sweeties, but I bet he could play a good persecutor, too.
(Photo from MovieWeb)
Paul after the TEXAS incident. Except, you know, double that.
Now for Jae. Like Paul, all we know is that she’s tall. She’s also described as beautiful, though not nearly so often as Angela is. I’ve been picturing her as a cool and sleek…
Anne Dudek? (Lura from Big Love!)
(Photo from The Fan Carpet)
Jae contemplates how awesome her life would be without Paul.
Or how about Christine Taylor?
(Photo from Flixster)
Guess where this is going, Paul.
And, of course, our ingenue, Angela Pass Barger. Rose Byrne?
(Pic from TVGuide)
I so picture Angela as a brunette. I don’t know why.
And Paul’s chess partner and invader-of-personal-space, Straight.
How about Lando himself, Billy Dee Williams?
(Photo from Hollywood.com)
“Persecute us, persecute Him, Paul.”
Ranold is supposed to be a bad guy, but if Paul hates him, that’s enough for me to like him!
I’ve loved Dean Stockwell since I was a little kid watching Quantum Leap.
(Pic from the SciFi Channel)
Ranold is so much a better agent than Paul.
And how about my favorite character so far–poor, doomed SWAT dude Larry Coker from San Francisco. We actually have some description for him!
He had short blonde hair and red cheeks, stood about six feet, and was thick and solid.
Coker’s got some meat on his bones. I like that in a guy.
Okay, I know he’s got the wrong coloring, but if Jenkins doesn’t care about the descriptions of 90% of his characters, why should I?
Karl Urban’s got the right look, as far as I’m concerned.
(Pic from Stale Popcorn)
Those underground zealots are gonna get told!
And how about the much-despised Bia Balaam? We know she’s older and thin and silver-haired, and that she’s so smart and competent that Paul is instantly terrified of her.
I’m gonna go with Sigourney Weaver. You know she can bring the scary-evil, and she could always dye her hair!
(Pic from Wireimage)
She totally knows how much better she is than Paul.
Also, this movie rocks:
So, what do you guys think? Any ideas, for these or any other characters? Let’s get this baby cast!
In between mistreating every woman he knows, Paul finds time to be given his first mission in the Zealot Underground task force.
First, the big important men go to The Secure Room. No, I am not even kidding:
Koontz unlocked a three-inch-thick steel door that revealed, six inches away, a three-inch-thick wood door, also locked. Once they were inside and Koontz had secured both doors, a guard outside ran a final scan of the room. The results appeared on a small monitor on the wall. No evidence of bugs or microwaves or any other invasive devices. Koontz hit a button next to the monitor, which triggered white noise, a barely audible hum that would interfere with any recording equipment and make their conversation unintelligible.
Even to each other. That is how secure The Secure Room is:
The first order of business in The Secure Room is to obsess about guns:
“You kept up on your firearms, Paul?”
Paul nodded. “I can handle anything from a derringer to a howitzer…”
Forgive me if I find that just a bit hard to believe.
“…I’m at the range every two weeks, minimum.”
“You own a double-action semiautomatic?”
Sure! We all do! /Sally Struthers
“I’ve got an eleven-point-eight-millimeter Beretta and a Walther Stealth.”
“Got a preference?”
“Depends. What am I going to do with it?”
“Kill someone from close range.”
Paul hesitated. “Beretta’s hard to beat, Bob. Who am I going to kill?”
“Hopefully no one.”
But…but you just said he was going to… *sigh* Never mind.
Unlike Paul, I am not at the range every two weeks. So I am looking forward to my loyal readers pointing out anything else that may be wrong with the above passage!
Koontz wants Paul to be “a wild card” and go along on the “strategic raids” and be a consultant and listen to interrogations and do interrogations and help interpret interrogations and report back to Koontz about various crap, and a bunch of other vague and ill-defined things. Not sure how having a Ph.D. in religious studies qualifies someone as an expert in interrogations and giving them, but whatever.
Then, for no reason that I can yet fathom, Koontz tells Paul more lies about The Dork Too Stupid–specifically, that his captors tried to interrogate him, but…
“…well, the way he fought it, it turned into ‘suicide by cop.'”
I cannot get over how stupid it is to lie to Paul, who is supposed to be “in the know,” and who will be Koontz’s eyes and ears in the field. Paul could find out this is false by talking to anyone involved in that mission or, hey-here’s-an-idea, reading the file on The Dork. (I don’t know about Paul, but this would be Number One on my to-do list if I were in his shoes.)
Then Koontz talks about a recent event–the Reflecting Pool in Washington turning into a Pool of Blood (yes, real blood). Of course, we readers know that this was a Miracle From Turbo-Jesus, but Koontz (and Paul, and all the other evil atheists) think it was a “prank” staged by Christians.
Specifically, they think it was done by The Dork. Rather surprising that they simply executed him instead of, oh, gee, I dunno, asking him about it, but there you go.
Then Koontz finally gets to the point, saying there are Christian subversives in all seven states, and that Paul’s first assignment is to go to San Francisco and “monitor…rush…[and] supervise the interrogations” of…
“…a Christian cell led by an elderly, wealthy widow we have code-named Polly Carr.”
Paul smiled. “So you do know a bit of church history.”
“Well, I’ve heard of Polycarp, but that’s the extent of it.”
Ah, I see. Koontz likes his little word games, just like Jenkins. Gee, what a coincidence.
But I still don’t…
Now, this just shows that Jenkins has never conversed with atheists about what we know and believe. I consider myself, for an atheist raised in a secular home, to be fairly well-versed in the basics of Christianity. Indeed, I don’t think people can help but be so when they are raised in the States. Like The Pretender, I have “learned some lingo.” And I had no idea who Polycarp was.
And Koontz, if he is presumed to be a bit older than Paul, spent, at most, only his early childhood in a world in which Christianity was legal. So how the hell does he know who Polycarp was?
Anyway, that is Paul’s mission. I bet you can all guess what will happen when Paul gets to Polly’s home.
This is the first of a couple of different things…
The funeral for The Dork Too Stupid is over. Paul wanders around Arlington Regional Cemetery (um, didn’t you have a plane to catch, Paul?).
Yes, yes he does. But first, Jenkins needs to make a few points.
Paul moved into a section where all the headstones were cross-shaped.
Now, it’s been a few years since I visited Arlington, but I know for a fact that there are other religious symbols besides the cross. A quick Googling will turn up Stars of David and many others. In fact, atheists can have an atom with an “A” at the center on their headstones.
This will become quite the pattern with Jenkins as he paints his “atheistic” world–whenever something tragic happens, the victims are Christians. But when religion has done something bad, it is never American Christians who are the perpetrators.
A plaque read: Religious symbols were common before World War III, when it was the custom for every enlisting soldier to declare his denominational preference.
Paul spat in disgust.
As he walked on amid the tombstones, his outrage mounted. Life had been torn from all these young men and women–so many barely out of their teens–and for what?
Wow. So far, so…Actually Not That Bad. I have a feeling that Paul spitting and being outraged is supposed to be a sign of his awful not-yet-savedness, but (and I can’t even believe I am typing this)…it rings true. His feeling–of the futility of religion, his anger that people lost their lives for religion–it makes sense. And so, it is a first. The first time in this book that Jenkins comes anywhere close to imagining what an atheist in an atheist world might think about religion. It’s not what all, or most atheists think now (and I really hope Jenkins is not trying to say that atheists are in the habit of spitting at Arlington, or any cemetery). But it actually seems like he’s trying a bit here.
And I’m also a bit impressed that Jenkins mentions female soldiers. I realize this is giving him credit for simply doing something right, but it is unexpected, so…point.
Because fanatical Muslims waged holy war on the West? Because religious groups in Bosnia jockeyed for primacy? On and on it went, back to the dawn of history, people persecuting each other over abstract ideas. That their tombstones symbolized the ideas they died for seemed the cruelest of ironies.
Yep, here we go. When people are persecuted and killed for their faith, they are American Christians. When they persecute and kill, they are Others, other faiths and/or other nationalities. Hell, at least LaHaye and Dinallo had the guts to bring up (even though they immediately dismissed) American abortion clinic bombers and murderers.
I hope it gave them some comfort. And yet here they lie.
That is another first. The very first time in the book, by my count, that Paul has spared a thought for anyone other than himself. (Of course, he is grieving the death of The Dork, but he certainly hasn’t given a thought to anyone else who is grieving. Not even The Dork’s hot daughter.)
Two firsts. They’re not great, but they are also Actually Not That Bad.
I did not think I would be able to write those words for this book.
Well, Christmas may be over for us, but Wintermas is not yet over for the Stepola/Desenti clan.
…Connor kept staring at the Wintermas tree. “Why do you have a flag on top of your tree, Grandpa? My friend Jimmy’s mom says when she was little people put stars or angels on top of their trees. She’s still got some.”
Ranold waved dismissively. “Not in this house. And not in yours either, I hope.”
“Of course not,” Paul said.
Connor climbed into Paul’s lap and wrapped his arms around his neck. Paul sensed the boy’s fatigue. “Why not, Dad?”
“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” Paul said. “Now why don’t you and your sister–”
“But why not? They sound pretty, like they’d look better on a Wintermas tree than an old flag.”
Why does Connor, a child of “36 P.3.,” talk like a 1950’s crew-cutted neighbor of Beaver Cleaver? “An old flag…”
Ranold stood and moved to the window with his back to them. “That flag stands for everything I believe in, Connor.”
“He wasn’t saying anything about the flag,” Paul said. “He doesn’t understand. He’s just a –”
“He’s old enough to be taught, Paul.”
“It’s never come up before, Ranold. I plan to tell him–”
“See that you do! And you ought to check into that mother who’s harboring contraband icons.”
Paul shook his head.
“What’s wrong with angels and stars, Daddy?”
“I promise I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
This passage is interesting for a couple of reasons. First, as I believe the Slacktivist has pointed out with regards to Left Behind, Jenkins does not seem to know how to convey dialogue without constant use of “he said,” “she said,” “he said,” “Paul said,” said…said…said. It’s really boring.
In larger terms, the passage is symptomatic of a huge problem in Soon as a whole: What is illegal and what is not? What is “known” about religion by a general population in a world in which religion has been outlawed for 36 years?
Why is a “Wintermas tree” in Ranold’s home, and why are “Wintermas presents” opened, while he takes deep personal offense at the mere mention of angels or stars?
If religion and “contraband icons” are outlawed, how does Connor, a child of five, even know what an angel is?
These questions will never be answered. Soon is nothing if not extremely confused about what people who have outlawed religion would know, and what they would do.
By the way, a quick Google search revealed more of what I already knew–that some people already put flags on top of their trees, and I’m pretty sure not all of them are evil godless haters like Ranold.
I wonder if Jenkins thinks that Theme Trees, even Patriotic Theme Trees, are not Really Real Christmas Trees unless they have stars or angels on top.
Well, that’ll teach me to use the words “calendar” and “porn” in a post title. Someone found my blog by searching for “porn calendars.”
Hey, whatever works!
Jerry Jenkins does indeed get started on the phone porn right away–the paragraph I quoted a few days ago was the second in the book.
The first just introduces us to the fact that Delta Force Command Sergeant Andrew Pass drives a Chevy Electrolumina.
In case you are interested, his pursuers are in a Suburban Hydro.
Cars apparently powered by sun, electricity, and hydrogen? Like I said before, This World Rocks.
So, Andy tells Jack that he is being followed, that he is unarmed, and asks that he “get hold of Angela in case I can’t.”
Then, Andy hangs up. (Well, he touches his thumb and pinkie together, which is hanging up.)
This all raises some intersting questions:
1. What do people who use sign language do in this world? Seems like they would be constantly calling Australia.
2. Same question for people who work with their hands.
3. How can anyone ever be assured of privacy in this world? When the Marvelous Phone (praise its holy name) can be activated by tapping your fingers, can’t anyone’s life be put on speaker phone at any time?
4. And based on that question: WHY THE HELL DID ANDY HANG UP? Why doesn’t he want Jack and anyone who can hear him to know what happens? Seriously, WTF?
Boring scene short, Andy is caught. Good job, Command Sergeant.
A rawboned, thin-lipped woman with a shock of silver hair stepped forward. “Andrew Pass?”
He would not respond.
Oooo, Andy, you’re such a tough guy.
And remember folks, unattractive women are always evil.
Another uniform, a young man, patted him down. The vapor rushing from his mouth told Andy the kid was excited.
Yeah, only a young, fresh kid would be excited under such circumstances. Sure, Andy was just chased through the snow and captured by nefarious and vague evildoers, but it’s all pretty mundane.
“Unarmed.” He cuffed Andy’s hands behind his back, the steel cold on his wrists. “I’ll wand him.”
He ran a detector over Andy’s limbs, stopping when a high tone signalled the ID biochip beneath the skin of his right forearm. The young man studied an LED readout. “It’s Pass, all right.”
Wow, Andy really is dumb. If everyone has
the Mark of the Beast, just like in Left Behind ID biochips, then a) what’s with the tough guy, I’m-not-telling-you-my-name-and-you-can’t-make-me game? And b) why is he surprised when the bad guys scan his biochip? Wouldn’t the whole point of having biochips be so you could scan them?
The bad guys toss Andy into a truck and drive off.
Would his family or his compatriots have a clue what became of him?
Hmmm, I dunno. Sure would be cool if you had a phone implanted in your skull that you activated by tapping your fingers or just speaking, wouldn’t it?