07-04-2019, 10:29 PM
"Si," Velasquez remarked. "We are all disappointed at whichever number above zero of nuclear weapons that you have already entrusted Rey Joffrey El Naranja with."
Past the security officer barricade, scattered protesters who couldn't make it into the mob scene outside the Convention Center were standing on corners and shouting about which aspect of STRANGERS would doom or save the human race.
"This ain't a protest." Mander said, looking out the side window at some of them. "Ya've got too many wankers an' not enough molotovs."
"Welcome to Seattle." Susan explained as she took the turn toward the hotel, and traffic returned to Seattle's usual standards of obstruction. "Protests here aren't about changing anything, they're about feeling like you matter. Show up and wave a sign, and you get to tell yourself you accomplished something and look down on all the 'sheeple' who weren't there to 'make a difference.'"
Mander and Velasquez both winced at the word.
"Sheeple?" Mander asked. "This's a word people use now? I live on an island. Hearin' that makes me want to go 'ome."
"Not the socially-functional, no. It means 'people who don't believe the same whack-a-doodle bullshit that you do.' Generally used by..." Susan thought.
"Well, probably everyone at the protests. Basically, any time you hear any talking about one of the subjects STRANGERS is supposed to be about, or their favorite conspiracy theory, they use it to describe 'the unbelievers.'"
"And this is supposed to win people over to their point-of-view?" Velasquez asked.
"The kind of people who use it don't want to win anyone over." Susan replied. "It's more about imagining that you're superior to everyone else; because you know 'what's really going on,' and they're all just unwitting tools of their pet conspiracy. The ones who aren't suckers are out to sell something to the ones that are."
"Well, that part's always the same wherever ya go."
"Si. Americans are idiotas."
"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet." Susan said as they turned the last corner toward the hotel where the Ultimados were keeping Rita. "Wait until you see how many are proud of that fact."
Four blocks away from the hotel, traffic started crawling, and Susan got to try out some of the Greek curses she'd picked up around the house. When they eventually reached the head of the line, they saw why. Another blockade with more protesters was surrounding the Hotel de San Finzione in downtown Seattle where Rita and her Ultimado detail were holed up in the La Contessa suite, the hotel's penthouse. Like the La Contessa suites on Air Finzione, everything was designed and secured to Helen's specifications and centered on the theme "fit for La Contessa herself."
"Blockading the delegates' hotels, too." Susan said. "That's what they did for WTO."
Susan lucked into an empty parking space and pulled in.
"Block away." Mander said.
"We'll be exposed, but we can blend into the crowd once we've got her." Velasquez contributed.
"You're not blending in anywhere, Marisol." Susan said, looking her up and down and trying to hide Suzy-Ho's interest. "The Playboy Mansion, maybe, but nowhere else."
"Aren't I?" She asked, pointing to a portion of the crowd from whose signs, they could infer, were in support of the Sexual Equality portion of the STRANGERS acronym, flanked by a group against Racial Harmony, and one condemning Sexual Equality on the other. Most of the crowd were women, some were topless, some had foregone clothes altogether; many covered with body paint, but not all.
Susan looked over and smiled. She tried to think if there was something she could do to help them on the way out. Sue suggested something, and she made certain to remember it for later as she undid her seat belt. Mander checked his gun in the back, then tucked it under his shirt.
"Well, in that case, people." Susan said, removing her shirt and bra and stuffing them into her purse before opening the door. "Let's go make a difference."
Past the security officer barricade, scattered protesters who couldn't make it into the mob scene outside the Convention Center were standing on corners and shouting about which aspect of STRANGERS would doom or save the human race.
"This ain't a protest." Mander said, looking out the side window at some of them. "Ya've got too many wankers an' not enough molotovs."
"Welcome to Seattle." Susan explained as she took the turn toward the hotel, and traffic returned to Seattle's usual standards of obstruction. "Protests here aren't about changing anything, they're about feeling like you matter. Show up and wave a sign, and you get to tell yourself you accomplished something and look down on all the 'sheeple' who weren't there to 'make a difference.'"
Mander and Velasquez both winced at the word.
"Sheeple?" Mander asked. "This's a word people use now? I live on an island. Hearin' that makes me want to go 'ome."
"Not the socially-functional, no. It means 'people who don't believe the same whack-a-doodle bullshit that you do.' Generally used by..." Susan thought.
"Well, probably everyone at the protests. Basically, any time you hear any talking about one of the subjects STRANGERS is supposed to be about, or their favorite conspiracy theory, they use it to describe 'the unbelievers.'"
"And this is supposed to win people over to their point-of-view?" Velasquez asked.
"The kind of people who use it don't want to win anyone over." Susan replied. "It's more about imagining that you're superior to everyone else; because you know 'what's really going on,' and they're all just unwitting tools of their pet conspiracy. The ones who aren't suckers are out to sell something to the ones that are."
"Well, that part's always the same wherever ya go."
"Si. Americans are idiotas."
"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet." Susan said as they turned the last corner toward the hotel where the Ultimados were keeping Rita. "Wait until you see how many are proud of that fact."
Four blocks away from the hotel, traffic started crawling, and Susan got to try out some of the Greek curses she'd picked up around the house. When they eventually reached the head of the line, they saw why. Another blockade with more protesters was surrounding the Hotel de San Finzione in downtown Seattle where Rita and her Ultimado detail were holed up in the La Contessa suite, the hotel's penthouse. Like the La Contessa suites on Air Finzione, everything was designed and secured to Helen's specifications and centered on the theme "fit for La Contessa herself."
"Blockading the delegates' hotels, too." Susan said. "That's what they did for WTO."
Susan lucked into an empty parking space and pulled in.
"Block away." Mander said.
"We'll be exposed, but we can blend into the crowd once we've got her." Velasquez contributed.
"You're not blending in anywhere, Marisol." Susan said, looking her up and down and trying to hide Suzy-Ho's interest. "The Playboy Mansion, maybe, but nowhere else."
"Aren't I?" She asked, pointing to a portion of the crowd from whose signs, they could infer, were in support of the Sexual Equality portion of the STRANGERS acronym, flanked by a group against Racial Harmony, and one condemning Sexual Equality on the other. Most of the crowd were women, some were topless, some had foregone clothes altogether; many covered with body paint, but not all.
Susan looked over and smiled. She tried to think if there was something she could do to help them on the way out. Sue suggested something, and she made certain to remember it for later as she undid her seat belt. Mander checked his gun in the back, then tucked it under his shirt.
"Well, in that case, people." Susan said, removing her shirt and bra and stuffing them into her purse before opening the door. "Let's go make a difference."
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