Our Darkest Hour

I found myself in some fellowship hall of The Salvation Army, and they were trying to recruit me back in order to cure their computer woes. Their increasing security had gotten even more inconvenient, with the phrase "batten down the hatches" coming to mind.

I tried not to commit to yet another abusive relationship with them, but I again proved my principles, won their trust, and thus inspired new designs to be placed on my talents.

Once they got their claws into me, they whisked me away to schools and shopping malls where the teenagers were being taught upside-down values. This Republican, Might-makes-right, Money-is-God and God-is-for-making-Money philosophy was running amuck, and the kids with true principles were beginning to protest. The religious movement kept pushing on with its perversion of a pseudo-Darwinistic elimination of those deemed unfit to survive, which included anyone who wouldn't conform into their smug monoculture. The clashes with the protesters grew violent, and even bloody.