To Whom It May Concern...

To Whom It May Concern:

School. A pseudonym for thirteen years of pivotal work. While it’s purpose is to teach students to be resilient in a turbulent life, some fail excruciatingly. It is despicable to see how many kids go out into the world having learned nothing, it would be better for them to stay home and attempt to emulate their parents, clad in lies and nothing but a cursory knowledge of the world they were derived from. They are an abrasion in society. It makes me grimace; what is the point of succumbing to mountains of work for nothing, simulating a real person? The problem is, in some cases, not in the student or parents, but in the schools who attempt to extricate themselves from the work of teaching, their gruesome sacrifice of the learning of children resides in the methods they teach with. “No Child Left Behind.” The guile of teachers leaves them, not instilling in them the imperative knowledge for life. Something is amiss. The despondent truth is that the education system’s problem is as interminable as that of the economy and health care. We must be conscientious rather than audacious, the system must be fixed.

Please Help,

CYBORGG

He Never Spoke Again

Ty opened the door, wincing as it creaked. Darc swore, so much for surprise. Seven heads turned to face them. Seven silenced shots rang, muffled, through the room. Seven bodies hit the floor. Ty lowered his pistol.

Picking his way through the room, Ty shoved bodies off computers and attempted to mop up blood from the screens. It was time to get to work. This city was home to a radical spokesman and his followers, Ty and Darc had a mission: eliminate him and anyone who gets in their way,

"What did you do that for?" Darc asked pointing at one of the dead technicians, " They're unarmed, they couldn't of hurt us." He sat down at a computer and looked at an open file: a map of the city with all the sewage systems highlighted, Darc printed it out, folded it, and tucked it into a pocket.

"They could have raised an alarm, besides..." Ty let the last word die as his jaw dropped, he stared at a computer screen, "This is our man, this is him"

TO\\COL. J. CARLSON\\
FROM\\CHICAGO INDUSTRIES\\

\\COL., THE OBJECTS YOU REQUESTED
HAVE ARRIVED, DO YOU WISH US TO
SHIP THEM TO YOU?\\

\\THEY ARE AS FOLLOWS:\\

\\100 S12-SNIPER RIFLES\\
\\350 XMB CARBINES\\
\\600 F23-FUSION PACKS\\
\\150 12-GAUGE-TROJAN SHOTGUNS\\

\\SHIPMENT MUST OCCUR IN NEXT 48 HOURS,
WOULD BE A SHAME IF MILITARY CONFISCATED THEM\\

Ty stared at the screen, Colonel Carlson had committed mutiny years ago, he had since spoken out against the government, he had also pilfered weapons and supplies from the military for years, which was one reason why Ty and Darc had been sent to eliminate him, but this, this was no small amount, this was a profusion of supplies, enough to raise a small army with just this shipment alone, who knew how many had happened before.

Darc stood up first, "What are we waiting for, lets kill the man already!" Darc grabbed his gear and headed out the door, rankled by the fact that the Colonel had sneaked weapons from under the military's nose.

"Sit Down!" Ty rebuked, "We're killing him, but we will not just walk out there! We will kill him so prudently that even he will not know that we were the ones who killed him!" Ty paused, "Where's the nearest sewer entrance?"

The two Marines crept through the sewer until they reached the center of the city, there he was, Colonel Carlson himself: giving a speech on how flawed the government was. Ty and Darc crept out of the sewer, inching towards the makeshift stage.

The Colonel paused in his speech, but he didn't continue speaking, he never finished his address. He never spoke again: his head was severed from his body, held together by a small piece of skin, blood seeped from his throat. Ty's knife left it as he and Darc ran firing their pistols at their pursuers. Ducking down a dark alley, they quickly scaled a building, hurling themselves onto a helicopter and flying away into the sunset. Mission: Accomplished.