《Flat Earth Online》 Chapter One: Foundation Robby made sure his face was in frame, then clicked the record icon. ¡°Hello Vidtube land, I¡¯m Robby Ragestorm, and this episode 117 of the Ragestorm Flat Earth Chronicles.¡± He tapped a button on his keyboard and the screen filled with an image of his whiteboard, with his bearded face retreating to a box in the corner. The whiteboard still held the diagrams from the previous episode, where he conclusively disproved one of the long-standing fallacies regarding the moon. The establishment held that the moon was 238,900 miles away, but anyone with a pair of eyes could tell that this was absurd. ¡°In our last episode, we looked at some zoomed, photographic evidence, which I took with my Nikon P900. Long story short, we found that the moon was only about 3000 miles away. I can make out more detail on the moon with my lens than I can on the Nakatomi building, which as we stated is only 10 miles away. Go check out the video, I¡¯ll leave a link in the description.¡± He grabbed the eraser and swiped at the whiteboard, then turned back to the camera. ¡°Today, we¡¯ll be going back to basics. We have a bunch of new subscribers and I¡¯d like to get everyone up to speed.¡± Robby drew a bullet point with a red marker and next to it in block capitals, wrote ¡®THE LIE.¡¯ He switched the screens so the whiteboard was in the corner and his face took up the frame. ¡°The Lie, ladies and gentlemen, is what the government has instituted. It¡¯s what they¡¯ve instructed the teachers to teach our kids. It¡¯s what you and everyone you know has been told since you could first understand words, and in many respects, the Lie is one of the greatest accomplishments of mankind.¡± He tapped a key and his face parked in the corner, the main view taken up by a still image of the Earth. ¡°And here it is. The Lie. The globe Earth.¡± Robby¡¯s tiny face grew animated in the corner. ¡°How¡­ stupid¡­ do they think we are? Look at this picture. Use your eyes, people! Use your brains! Ask yourself¡­ what¡¯s missing?¡± He paused for dramatic effect. ¡°Show me a star. Show me one star. No? Don¡¯t see any?¡± Robby flicked through a few more images of the globe before settling on one seemingly at random. ¡°Now take a closer look. What else is missing?¡± Again, he paused. ¡°According to the scientists, hundreds of thousands of man-made satellites are in orbit around the globe.¡± Robby accented the word globe with some rather effective finger quotes. ¡°Show me one satellite. Just one.¡± He flipped from one image of the globe to another, in rapid succession. ¡°Do you see any? If you do, let me know in the comments below. But I won¡¯t hold my breath. Because I tell you what, Ragers. You won¡¯t find one.¡± The whiteboard resumed its post center stage, and Robby ticked off his second point. ¡°We live on a beautiful disk. The people who know the truth call it the Flat Earth. It is surrounded by the Antarctic wall, a wall of ice which keeps the oceans on the disc and acts as a foundation for the Firmament, the glorious glass dome which encases this beautiful world.¡± Robby added further bullet points, ticking them off on his fingers as he went. "The sun and the moon are the same size, roughly 37 miles across, and circle above us, within the firmament." "Gravity, as we were taught, does not exist. What we perceive as gravity is nothing but the constant upward acceleration of the disk." "Outside the firmament is the Aether, which pretty much accounts for anything else that needs to be explained." Robby lost focus for a few minutes, going on tangents about maps and distances and the levels of water, but eventually came to his final bullet point. ¡°So why the Lie? Who is behind it all?¡± Next to the final point, he wrote four letters. NASA. ¡°The government agency tasked with keeping us from the truth. Nearly unlimited funding, unlimited resources, all devoted to one purpose. Creating the lie that keeps us in line, and keeps us from realizing the divine. But whether you believe in the divine or not, the disc is real, the firmament is real, and we¡­¡± he paused again, ¡°will be the ones to bring the light to the world.¡± Robby¡¯s face took up the screen for the grand finale. ¡°¡®So Robby,¡¯ you ask, ¡®why is NASA so intent on fooling us? What¡¯s in it for the government?¡¯¡± Robby sneered. ¡°Control! They want to control every aspect of our lives. From what we watch, what we learn, what we believe, even what we breathe. Check out my videos on the truth behind chemtrails for that last one.¡± Robby smiled. ¡°They want to keep us uneducated, so we can succumb to their whims. So they can keep an ever-growing populace under their thumbs.¡± His voice grew softer. ¡°But they will not succeed. We, ragers, will be the front line in the coming war. We will arm the people with the sword of truth, and bring down the establishment of lies and deceit.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Robby sat back in his chair. ¡°This has been episode 117 of the Ragestorm Flat Earth Chronicles. The storm is coming, ragers. Get ready.¡± He clicked the stop button and sat back, taking a deep breath. He spent the next couple hours in post-production, adding the animated opening and ending screens one of his fans had made for him, and adjusting exposure and sound levels. He was about to upload when a chime let him know he was receiving a video call from a very welcome visitor. Sherri had been one of his followers from the beginning. She always made the wisest observations, and had won him over with a scaled-down version of the Bedford Level experiment. She uploaded a video where the entirety of a flagpole was visible at three miles away. Shooting down the crazy idea of observing the Earth¡¯s curvature was one of Robby¡¯s favorite past times, and to find a relatively attractive woman who was into the same stuff really ticked all of his boxes. He clicked the answer icon. ¡°Hi Sherri.¡± ¡°Hey there, cutie. When¡¯s 117 going up?¡± Sherri had a round face framed by a blonde pixie cut, with thin lips made fuller by a wine-colored lipstick. She wore a flat earth t-shirt which Robby thought might have been a size too small, perhaps on purpose. Robby wasn¡¯t complaining--she made the disc of the earth emblazoned on her chest look like an oblate spheroid. ¡°Hi Sherri. Was just about to hit the upload button. Want a sneak preview?¡± She put a hand to her chest as if she¡¯d been flattered. Robby chuckled silently. Nothing flatter about this girl. ¡°Nah, I¡¯ll just watch it when it goes up. What¡¯s it on? Did you use the data I sent you regarding the speed of the moon last month in relation to the boats out on the harbor?¡± Robby shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s some compelling evidence Sherri. I¡¯m going to use it in a future video. But we have a bunch of new subscribers, and I wanted to get them caught up on the movement.¡± Sherri¡¯s eyes grew devilish. ¡°Oooh, I love those videos. You always get so¡­ passionate.¡± She touched a hand to her neck inadvertently. ¡°You think so?¡± Robby said as he looked down at his lap. ¡°Thanks Sherri.¡± She ran a hand over her chest and belly, and it disappeared off the bottom of the viewscreen. ¡°You want to have a quick¡­ session¡­ to celebrate?¡± Robby¡¯s heart sped up. This girl could really make his blood race, for someone who lived on the opposite coast. ¡°I¡¯d love to, really. But I have to get the second website set up and upload a few documents I came across to Paymeon. Those guys are giving me good money; I gotta make it worth their while.¡± She pouted. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to keep your fans¡­¡± she paused to suck on the tip of her finger, ¡°satisfied?¡± Robby gulped. ¡°I.. I¡¯d love to, but¡­ I have to¡­¡± Sherri sighed. ¡°Fine. Don¡¯t worry about it. Hey, guess what?¡± Robby didn¡¯t guess. ¡°I¡¯m going to be out in Portland next week!¡± Robby¡¯s breath caught in his throat. ¡°You¡¯re coming here? For what?¡± ¡°Just a little holiday. You wanna show me around?¡± Robby¡¯s mind went into panic mode. If they weren¡¯t on a screen, he was horrible with the ladies. Why would she book a ticket out here without asking him? What was he going to do? Sherri had been safe. She was out in Georgia, about as far away as you could get. Hell, the sun was closer. But now she wanted to come here? He put on his video face and played it cool. ¡°Awesome. Call me before you leave. And get some pics of the lack of curvature while you¡¯re up there.¡± She grinned. ¡°Already planned on it.¡± They said their goodbyes and Robby disconnected the call. Sean blew out a long stream of air. He was 28, and had a couple occurrances of passion in high school, but since then didn¡¯t have time for such frivolities. The thought of touching a woman, especially Sherri¡­ Robby came out of the bathroom four minutes after he went in, with a much clearer mind. He uploaded the video to Vidtube and Paymeon, adding some documents he had found on the web to the latter concerning the makeup of the Aether. His patrons ate that shit up. He was about to read the latest posts on the Flat Earth Followers Forum when his screen went black. No, no, no! I just bought this thing! His anger was soon replaced with wide-eyed amazement as the first words of green text appeared on his black screen. He stared at the text, unsure of what to do. The green cursor blinked on the left margin, about two inches below the sentence. Hesitantly, he began to type. His index finger hovered over the enter key, unsure if he wanted to dive into this madness. Who am I kidding? Of course I do. He hit enter. The cursor awaited his reply. He decided to humor whoever was on the other end of the conversation. He had barely hit enter before the reply came. His screen flickered, and he was once again staring at his web browser. What the ever-loving fuck was that? ¡°Robert! Robert, you up there?¡± Robby shook his head to clear it, then shouted loud enough to be heard downstairs. ¡°I¡¯m busy, Mom! You know I don¡¯t like to be bothered during production!¡± ¡°I, know, baby, but there¡¯s a woman at the front door to see you!¡± What? Nobody ever came here. He never gave out his address to his fans. He scurried over to the window. There, parked next to his Honda Civic hatchback, was a white, unmarked van with tinted windows. They are here. They will try to frighten you. He grabbed his bugout bag from the closet and threw on a sweatshirt, then bolted for his mother''s room. He threw open her window and tossed the backpack to the yard below, then climbed out on the ledge. He sidestepped over to the drainpipe, then began to slide down as he did when he used to sneak out back in junior high. He¡¯d put on a little weight since then. With a snap, the drainpipe came away from the wall, and the disc came up to meet him with a thump. His head spun for a second, and he closed his eyes tightly until the ringing went away. When he opened them, a man in a black suit and brown-rimmed sunglasses was smiling down at him. He turned his head and yelled. ¡°Masters! He¡¯s back here!¡± The man in the suit turned his attention back to Robby. ¡°Hello Mr. Ragestorm. You may call me Mr. Fellows.¡± The man reached for his breast pocket. Robby¡¯s eyes went wide, expecting a gun. Instead, the man pulled out a black leather billfold, which he flipped open. Robby couldn¡¯t make out the small writing, but could clearly see the man¡¯s picture. And the four red letters printed next to it. NASA. Chapter Two: Abduction Mr. Fellows got Robby to his feet roughly, then produced a black cloth bag from his coat pocket. ¡°Sorry about this, Mr. Ragestorm, but we can¡¯t be too careful. I¡¯m sure you understand.¡± The man¡¯s voice made it sound like he wasn¡¯t sorry at all. The bag was secured over Robby¡¯s head, then tightened around his neck with a drawstring. He was brought to his feet, then firmly escorted away. He screamed for his mother, but Mr. Fellows clamped a hand over his mouth. Soon another set of hands grasped his other arm and the collar of his sweatshirt, and he felt himself being lead down the small set of steps on the side of his house. They¡¯re taking me to the van. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard the door open. ¡°Step up,¡± came a female voice. Robby complied. He was led to a hard bench, and his hands were placed behind his back and handcuffed to some attachment on the wall. The van door closed, and for a moment Robby was unsure if he was alone in the compartment or not. ¡°You were a hard one to track down, Mr. Ragestorm.¡± The voice was female, soft. Almost compassionate. ¡°I was happy to find out you were operating out of Portland. It means we¡¯d get to be the ones to shut you down. I¡¯ll tell you right now, sweetie, that this will go much better for you if you cooperate.¡± The last sentence was said in a tone a mother would use with her sick child. Combined with the message, it sent an involuntary shiver coursing through Robby¡¯s flesh. ¡°Where are you taking me?¡± Robby asked, his voice muffled by the hood. ¡°Who are you?¡± The woman stroked his head. ¡°No more questions, Robby. We¡¯ll be there soon.¡± Robby complied, and passed the time by trying to judge his location based on the turns the van was taking. After a long bank to the left, the van accelerated to freeway speed. We¡¯re on the I-5. Going south. After an hour of driving, the van exited, and as far as Robby could tell, began heading east. Somewhere outside of Salem? Another thirty minutes of silence and the van came to a stop. The driver, assumingly Mr. Fellows, cut the engine and got out of the car. The back door opened and Robby was led out. ¡°Where are we?¡± he asked. ¡°What do you want with me?¡± Nobody answered him. He was led by his hands across concrete. A parking lot. A few moments later, the hot summer air was dispelled by a blast of air conditioning as they entered a building. Robby heard the beeps of what could have been a key card access point as he was brought deeper into the building. A few minutes and a few beeps later, Robby was sat down, and his hood removed. He didn¡¯t recognize the man who had escorted him. He was in his twenties and had mousy brown hair. He wore a grey, one-piece jumpsuit with the NASA logo embroidered on his chest. The man attached the handcuffs to a locking eye-ring on top of the metal table in front of him, then left. The room was small, with grey walls with a large mirror taking up the majority of the one in front of him. Two chairs sat across from him. Aside from that, the room held nothing else. ¡°Hello?¡± Robert spat at the mirror. ¡°Let me the hell out of here. I don¡¯t know who you are, but I possess a particular skill set!¡± He got no response. He sat in silence for another fifteen minutes before attempting again. ¡°Listen, you assholes, I know my rights! You can¡¯t hold me here!¡± He struggled in vain to move his arms from the table. ¡°At least give me something to drink!¡± The door opened, and his two abductors stepped in. The woman¡­ Masters? took the sear across from him to his right, while Mr. Fellows put two hands the size of cantaloupes on the back of the chair next to her. His sunglasses were off now, and Robby could see the man¡¯s eyes. The right was a piercing blue, while the left was bisected by a thick scar. The eyeball itself was as white as a cueball, and as pupil-less as a classroom on senior skip day. Jeez, man. Wear an eyepatch. The face was framed by well-kept black hair, greying at the temples. The man leaned in towards Robby. ¡°Mr. Ragestorm.¡± He produced a notebook from his breast pocket and flipped through it. ¡°Media creator of the¡­ Ragestorm Flat Earth Chronicles?¡± Robby remained silent, and the man continued. ¡°An interesting selection of episodes. Episode 21 - the Gravity Fallacy, 250,000 views. Episode 91 - The Sun and Moon, Equal Size and Very Close, 228,000 views.¡±Stolen novel; please report. He flipped a page, and his voice darkened. ¡°Episode 101 - The NASA Deceit. 197,000 views.¡± He closed the notepad and it disappeared inside his suit jacket. The woman spoke up, her voice as deceptively soothing as it had been in the van. ¡°Mr. Ragestorm--may I call you Robby?¡± Robby begrudgingly nodded agreement. ¡°Robby, do you know why you¡¯re here?¡± His gaze went to the scar-eyed man before resting back on his red-headed partner. She was easier to look at--delicate features, a tiny nose, surrounded by a professional-looking ginger mane. Robby had pieced it together in the van ride over. ¡°Well, the fact that you brought me here can only mean one thing.¡± He smiled. ¡°I¡¯m right, aren¡¯t I. The whole flat earth movement--we¡¯ve hit the nail on the head, and my voice has gotten so loud that you¡¯re trying to silence me.¡± Ms. Masters exchanged a smirking glance with Mr. Fellows, then sat back in her chair. The man brought a huge palm down onto the metal table with a resounding crack. ¡°We don¡¯t care about your pathetic little theories, Ragestorm,¡± he bellowed. ¡°You and your kind are a bunch of nutjobs, and nobody takes you seriously.¡± He leaned in so close that Robby could smell the tuna fish sandwich the man had for lunch. ¡°What I do care about, Robby, is Antipode Seven.¡± Robby looked at the man blankly. ¡°Antidote what?¡± Robby was completely unprepared for the backhand. The man¡¯s meaty mitt brought stars to Robby¡¯s eyes and set his ear ringing fiercely. He could taste blood, and could already feel his lip swelling. He turned his head and spit a glob of blood on the floor. ¡°What the hell, man?¡± Robby¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°You can¡¯t treat me like this! I have rights! I want a lawyer here in the next two seconds or I am going to sue your ass to the moon and back!¡± ¡°You¡¯re not going to do shit!¡± Mr. Fellows roared, then brought the back of his hand up for another strike. Ms. Masters held out one demure hand. To Robby it looked like someone trying to stop a charging bull with a bubble wand. She glanced at him and the man appeared to deflate. ¡°Your attempts at litigation won¡¯t get very far, I¡¯m afraid,¡± she said, giving Robby a concerned look. ¡°But that aside, we know you wrote Antipode Seven, we know you hacked into NASA to upload it, and we know what you¡¯re planning next. It won¡¯t work.¡± Robby stared up in disbelief. ¡°What? Hacked my way into NASA?¡± He laughed the long, silent laugh of someone who had no idea what the fuck was going on. ¡°Ma¡¯am, I couldn¡¯t hack my way out of a paper bag. I make videos for Chrissake.¡± Mr. Fellows chuckled, the rage present ten seconds ago now nowhere to be found. ¡°It doesn''t matter, Mr. Ragestorm. We have you, now. And we have so many ways to make you talk.¡± At that moment, the surface of the table¡­ flickered. Robby stared at it, furrowing his brow, then looked up at his two inquisitors. Neither one of them appeared to have noticed it. He glanced back down again, then jumped as a line of green text appeared on the scratched metal surface, the letters appearing from left to right as if typed. Robby completely failed to follow the direction. ¡°You guys see this?¡± he blurted, staring wide-eyed at the table. ¡°All I see is a two-bit wannabe hacker who¡¯s in for a very difficult time in the near future,¡± chuckled Mr. Fellows. After five seconds, the text winked out, and Robby was left staring at the tabletop. ¡°Considering your options, Robby? That¡¯s good,¡± came the calm voice of Ms. Masters. Robby jerked from his stupor and looked up. ¡°But I¡¯m afraid you don¡¯t really have any options to consider. We need you to tell us¡­¡± Three events happened in rapid succession. Robby¡¯s handcuffs sprang open and clattered to the floor. The two interrogators stared in shock as Robby brought his hands up to his face. Next, the thick metal door to the cell clanked loudly and flew open. Ms. Masters jumped to her feet, and Mr. Fellows dove for Robby. Then the lights went out, and the room and hallway beyond were plunged into blackness. Robby leaped for where he remembered the doorway to be, shrugging off the massive paw of Mr. Fellows as he careened into the door frame. He spun around. Not even a glimmer of light shone anywhere. ¡°I can¡¯t see a goddamn thing!¡± Mr. Fellows shouted. ¡°Why the hell won¡¯t my phone work?¡± Robby felt along the wall and ran as fast as he could, unsure as to where he was going. Then, a small green dot pierced the blackness on the floor in front of him. Another one came after it, then another. The dotted line. He followed the dots as fast as he dared, and they led him around a corner. A line of text appeared on the wall to his right. Robby obeyed, and followed the dots as they appeared. Sometimes he would hear the clank of a heavy security door opening. He could also hear the voices of his captors far behind him, stumbling around in vain. After about ten minutes, the dots led him to a wall, and then stopped. The dots gave off no light to the space around them, and Robby felt his gut wrench in a moment of panic. Then another block of text appeared directly in front of him. Robby did as instructed, and his world became awash in red as sunlight poured through his eyelids. After a few moments, he hesitantly squinted them open, and the outlines of bushes and rocks began to take form around him. He stumbled out into open ground, blinking as his sight slowly came back. He was standing outside of a large, nondescript building in the middle of rolling hills and scrubland. As he turned toward the building, he saw his escape route slide shut behind him, the two doors meeting in the middle and barely leaving a seam. Robby put his hands on his knees and took a few deep breaths. What the hell is happening? How am I seeing these words everywhere? As if answering his question, more words appeared on the wall he was staring at. These were strange, well strange-er, as the dark-green words had no background save for the light beige wall. Robby scanned the area and found the edge of the parking lot peeking around the western corner of the building. He ran for it, and found the van that had been parked outside of his house waiting in front of a pair of unmarked double glass doors. There were no other cars in the complex, as well as no signage saying what the sprawling, one-story building might be. He sprinted for the driver¡¯s door and threw himself inside. The engine turned over and roared to life as it did so, with no assistance from him. One large, translucent message splashed across the windshield.