After the Great War of 2016, America became a devastated, post-apocalyptic wasteland, ruled by an authoritarian overlord with limited language skills. But then the Resistance rose up. This is a first-hand account from the front lines of the guerrilla army of social justice warriors as it fights back using every tool at its disposal, from social media accounts to self-published books. But will they be able to overcome their internal divisions long enough to #resist? Ugh, I can’t believe I just used a hashtag like that. I’m so sorry.
“Before the expanded public sphere the transactions themselves are stylized into a show… even arguments are transmuted onto symbols to which again one can not respond by arguing but only by identifying with them.”
— Jürgen Habermas
“We will send the hammer of the people’s will crashing through the windows of Mr. Krabs’s house of servitude!”
— Squidward Tentacles
The Wall casts its long shadow over the ruins of what used to be the country.
At the beginning, they said, it would only cover the southern border. And we believed them. It was to keep people out, they said. Rapists. Criminals. And some, we assumed, were good people, but that was okay. I remember the crowds screaming. “Build the Wall,” they clamored. “Build the Wall.”
But then the Wall kept growing, taller and longer, and now it covers the entire nation. Is it really meant to keep others out, or is it meant to keep us in? Or is it meant to divide us forever?
Eh, it’s definitely meant to keep others out. Heavy-handed metaphors only go so far.
The Resistance troops stationed in Hillary Clinton’s former campaign headquarters were eating a grim breakfast of the last watery oatmeal from Pret a Manger when a message arrived:
Resistance Communiqué No. 382 TOP SECRET
Per the directive of the Democratically Elected Senior Military Council, Resistance fighters shall initiate Battle Plan No. 17, with the objective of destroying key sectors of the Wall. For those members of the Resistance who are pacifists, the Senior Council suggests replacing Battle Plan No. 17 with an enthusiastic and impassioned argument with your parents.
An alarm sounded: the voice of Rachel Maddow saying, “BIG NEWS TODAY!” It was time. We divided into our battle divisions, and my troop commander gathered us around for a briefing. I should note that troop command rotates weekly so that everyone has a chance to gain leadership experience. This is how we will rebuild our grassroots organizational architecture in the battles to come. Two weeks ago, I was troop commander, and I unwittingly led our team into an ambush in the ruins of a Whole Foods. I lost 23 good fighters among the moldy boxes of organic quinoa.
“Now, before we head out, I want to make sure everyone understands the plan,” the commander said.
A man in the back raised his hand. “Wait! I have something to say.”
“Do I know you?” asked the commander.
“My name is Tennessee Senator Bob Corker—” began the man.
“Boooo!” shouted another person, booing.
“Wait! Hear me out!” Tennessee Senator Bob Corker said. “I’m one of you. I’m part of the Resistance!”
“How can we be sure?” said the commander. “All you do is tweet and make pithy statements about the dangers posed by the leader of the country.”
Tennessee Senator Bob Corker walked to the front of the room. “Maybe that’s true,” he said. “But isn’t that what you do? Isn’t that what the Resistance is?” Some of the fighters nodded, while others shook their heads angrily and tweeted sarcastically about Tennessee Senator Bob Corker. The soldier who booed shouted, “You don’t know anything about the Resistance!” and then booed again.
“How do we know you haven’t switched back to his side now? How do we know you’re with us?” the commander finally said.
“Maybe we should check our feeds to see,” I suggested. A feed is a list of new postings on social media sites. It no longer refers to food, since there is nothing to eat.
We all pulled out our iPhone X’s. No updates on a Trump-Corker rapprochement, or for that matter any rapprochement of any kind. People just aren’t in the mood to rapproche anymore.
“Well, then, come with us if you want,” said the commander. “It’s time to ship out.”
“I’ll come,” said Tennessee Senator Bob Corker. “I’m with you. Get it? It’s a play on ‘I’m with her’—”
We marched to the Wall in the middle of the night and were immediately met by gunfire. Tennessee Senator Bob Corker disappeared. I’m not sure what happened to him, which is kind of a letdown, I guess, since I spent so much energy relaying what he said. I guess there were more important things happening in the country while I was focused on individual rifts between Donald Trump and members of the Republican caucus. Huh.
Anyway, per Battle Plan No. 17, we removed our phones and started taking photos of the Wall. They might have more guns than us, but the pen is mightier than the sword, and a picture is worth a thousand words; therefore, a picture is mightier than a thousand swords. We have the ultimate weapon: the ability to widely disseminate images to people who agree with us.
“Retweet!” cried the commander to our reinforcements before she disappeared in a ball of flame. “Like! Share!”