FaceBook Tales:
A Pirate's Story
By
D.S. Brown 

Now, he questioned the highest.  Now, he questioned almost everything.  In this so-called era of change, he found himself a changed man.  His heart and mind had been moved by the vagaries of chance and fate, by the disposition of birth, by circumstance.  He was after-all, only human.  His humanity was a collection of emotions, these emotions were now ruling him, denying him access to cold-logic, and rationality. 

He rode the digital highways, looking for some peace.  

            Dr. Dalmar: Is considering the vicissitudes of a life like stone, hard and slow to change, fate, and his options.

            There was no response.  He didn’t expect any.  He went to a friend’s page, a young woman he had met in undergrad.  He remembered her fondly as an effervescent, strong-minded, willful person.  She was a hardcore conservative.  Yet, they had still managed to be good friends.

            Winifred at 1:35 PM:

            I’ve been all over the world.  I believe the Somali Pirates have to be stopped by any means necessary.  Still, we have to understand that all of them are not evil.

            Lori Denison at 1:39 PM:
            Are you going soft?

            Winifred at 1:39 PM:
            No, I’m trying to speak to the facts.

            Lori Denison at 1:39 PM:
            I think you might be going soft.  We don’t have any business coddling those people over there.  That’s a liberal sentiment, Winnie.  They all, every last one of them, need to grow up and take responsibility for themselves.

            Dalmar wondered what this Lori woman might look like.  Images crept into his mind, disparaging images.  He was only human.  Being human meant of course that he too was susceptible to stereotypes.  What came to mind?  The image of a blonde haired woman with an indignant smirk, whose mouth told the truth about her intelligence whenever her lips parted and wind blew.  He couldn’t help it.  He dismissed the thought, which was usually quite easy.  Dr. Eves was as blonde and blue-eyed as they come.  However, she was fiercely intelligent, an exceptional doctor.  He had learned the blonde stereotype while studying in America, the land of the free, home of the brave.  America, the land of consumers, exploiters, spoilers, opportunists, and rapists … yes, rapists. 

            Dalmar loved America.  He had always loved America.  Now, he was conflicted.  Part of him hated the land of opportunity.  Part of him hated the so-called land of liberty.  Part of him despised the land that had made so many so great, and trained him to use his mind to help others.  Part of him hated America, simply because he now believed that a large part of America truly hated him, and all the world that was like him, to beat him, to stand upon his back, smile, and rape, and take, and take, and take, in its wild-eyed lusty justification, its exportation of so-called freedom, and its rationalization of murder.  America had taken from him what was most dear, his only family. 

America had murdered his brother, a pirate, a man who from another perspective may have been considered a freedom fighter, a rebel against the Western philosophy, the ideology of the consumer, and their worship of stuff.  America was contaminating, creating envy and lust in people who might have otherwise learned to live and grow on their own, but for the exposure to the western lifestyle, western greed, western envy, and western enmity.  

            He would never have thought such a thing before.  He knew the truth of American Imperialism, being African and educated meant he was blessed with the proper perspective.  However, he had never before wanted to exact some kind of inane revenge, to strike against those who had no knowledge or understanding of the true nature of the Geo-Polity, Free World Markets, and the Global Economy.  He never wanted to lash out at a nation that had given so much, even as it took so much.  America was growing, changing.  Still, it was people like Lori, and former President Bush that smashed hope and knocked liberty sideways-stupid, throwing a cloak over it, painting it red, white and blue, and having the nerve to call it exporting freedom and democracy.       

            Here come the Americans to free the barbarians of the world.  See, when we blew up your house we were freeing you.  And yes, we shot your Uncle.  He was hiding a terrorist.  Huh?  What do you mean your Uncle didn’t have a choice? The terrorists were threatening him and his family?  Huh?   Son listen, everyone has a choice.  That’s the American way.  That’s God’s way. 
      

            Winifred at 1:41 PM:
            Guys, I don’t want us get involved too deeply in foreign issues.  However, check out this link for an understanding of what’s going on over there.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=103815312

            Terence Carter at 1:43 PM:
            I've already read the article, Winnie.  DON'T GO SOFT!  They are ANIMALS!  Check out my man Coldtusker!  Ignore the lamo IslamoFascists sympathizers in this piece.  Just focus on Tusker's righeous words.
http://coldtusker.blogspot.com/2009/04/kill-somali-pirates.html 
       

             James Madison at 1:44 PM:  

 A twinge of curiosity pricked Dalmar’s mental focus.  The small-minded statements by Terrence were inconsequential.  Homosexuals were ridiculed the world over.  Dalmar, like most Doctor’s, realized how ridiculous this cultural perspective was and dismissed it.  Reviling someone for their sexual orientation was really just stupid.  What was really intriguing was the talk about this so-called BookMan.  Chatter had increased over the last few months on FaceBook.  It was an amusing anecdote.  Inside, a part of him wanted to smile at just one more bit of American fluff and fantasy.  However, what was inside drowned, never having a hope of piercing the surface, perhaps to elicit a slight upturn from the corner of his mouth.  No, in fact, his frown grew greater, more pronounced from its constant slight downturn of late.  Asad, his only brother, his only family, was dead, and Dalmar now had to take up a new profession.

There was a knock at the door.  It was time.

Dr. Dalmar Abdi logged off of FaceBook.  By his reckoning, it might be some time before he used his account again, if ever.  With a few swift keystrokes he logged back into Facebook from a different IP address.  He had set the new account up two weeks ago, after he had prayed, and after he was certain. 

The person at the door knocked a second time.

“Just a moment!”  He said.  “I’m coming!”

He finished typing, and got up from the computer.  He opened the door, and was greeted by a lean dark man, a few shades darker than himself, with neatly cut, close-cropped hair, and a wide grin.  He was well dressed, and quite clearly well-fed, a lean well-to-do Somali hailing from Kenya. 

“Hello, Doctor!”  The man said, expansively.

Dalmar opened the door wider, to allow the man entry, but he did not smile.  The man walked inside, examining the sparse room, glancing briefly at the computer.  He sat down heavily in a chair, taking a deep breath, as though his skinny frame was rife with weight.

“So, here we are, my friend,” he said.  “Are we ready to start our grand enterprise?”

“Yes,” said the doctor.  “I am ready.”

The man nodded, allowing his smile to slowly slip away.  “You must be certain.  Are you sure?”

“Listen, pirate,” said Dalmar.  “I have a plan.  I have the means.  I have the will.”

The man’s smile returned.  “Ex-pirate.  Abdul Rashid Osman is no longer … how do you say, in the business?  In fact, my good doctor, I believe the term is more fitting for you now.”

Dalmar stared at the man and his smile, his insufferable smile.  Here was a well meaning ex-pirate, if there was such a thing.  Criminality poured out of his every pore.  But was the Doctor’s judgment fair?  Dalmar didn’t care.

“I need to learn from the best.  I need to learn from the Milk Sucker.  You will teach me.  The money I’m paying you guarantees a good return, yes?”

“Oh yes, yes indeed my newly made pirate friend.  And what is it we shall call you again?”

“I am the pirate Robin, Robin of Arden.”

Abdul laughed uproariously, almost falling out of his chair.  “It sounds so white!  It’s corny, my friend!  Why?  Why this Robin of Arden?”

“The name has meaning, Milk Sucker.  The men of the West will know.  They, will understand.”

“Will they now?”

“Yes.”

The retired pirate looked critically at the aspiring pirate.  “Doctor, I will not teach you vengeance.  I cannot.  That was not my way.  I will teach you to seek and take and make money, no more, no less.”

Dr. Dalmar Abdi seemed to slip from the surface.  The Doctor had lost his smile weeks ago.  However, Robin of Arden knew how to smile … and he smiled wickedly. 

“You teach me what I need to know about the ways of the water, the hunt, seeking and taking.  I’ll worry about the vengeance.”

Abdul looked uncertain.  “What is it you really want?”

With eyebrows furrowed and eyes like coals, hot with an inner fire, a different man, a stronger, wilder man responded.  “What do I want, Milk Sucker?”  Asked Robin of Arden.  “Why, I want change.”  

Behind the newly minted pirate, the glow from his computer screen seemed to flicker, almost in time with the pirate’s words.  On the screen, was a note, a FaceBook note, that was for all intents and purposes a declaration to the world in general, and one honor-bound warrior in particular.

            Several weeks ago my brother was shot, killed by a man I’ve been told was a Navy Seal.  An elite soldier sent by the world’s most powerful nation, to murder children.  Yes, these children were ignorant.  Yes, these children were wild and barbaric.  Yes, these children were hungry, raised in lawlessness, with no hope, and no future.  Because they desired a better life, and no one in the wide world thought better of them, they took matters into their own hands.  They decided to stop the flow of plastic pieces of this and that, expensive baubles, stuff on top of stuff for the pampered lives of those that have so much; manufactured and transported by international interests that pollute our waters, and use our homes as a dumping ground.  These children decided to stop the flow at gunpoint, a crime to be sure, but the world is wide, and the world decided to come close to their doors, and flaunt their wares without offering the possibility of hope.  I am of these people.  I love these people.  I will see a CHANGE!  The West will be made to learn.  The West will be made benevolent.  Or, the West will know vengeance, as must the one who killed my brother.  To the warrior who struck down my only family, I send you an honorable challenge.  I am Robin of Arden, Seal Man!  Come back to my waters, demon-warrior trained by devils!  Come back to my waters, and face me!

In this moment the Somalian, former of Doctors without Borders, trained in America smiled insanely.  Through heat, loss, deep emotion, words and numbers and the madness of the world, a new man was born of the moment.  His future … unwritten.