Chance Encounter - Prologue

Forbes Park, Makati City, Metro Manila
It is the perfect party; glittering lights, expensively catered foods, liveried waiters, famous guests, on the surface that is, except that the celebrant herself is not enjoying the party for her. All she wanted for her debut party is an intimate night out on a secluded beach spot with friends. But her father ruled it out, telling her that it will be too dangerous considering that attempts on her life is not a far out possibility. She would have agreed wholeheartedly but her mother rubbed salt on the wound by saying that whenever a member of the “alta sosyedad” comes of age, an extravagant formal party is more of a rule rather than a suggestion. As the party continued deeper into the night, and guests became more inebriated she slipped away to her room’s balcony along with her three bestfriends.

A few minutes later her yaya came. “Alyssa, Hinahanap ka ng papa mo, ipapakilala ka yata sa mga kumpare nya…”

With a sigh of exasperation and pout on her lips, she began to walk towards the ballroom. Suddenly, machine gun fire and screams of horror filled their house. Bodyguards swarmed all over her parents, suddenly she was yanked and she was half-carried and half-dragged towards a waiting SUV. Inside the SUV, her mom was whimpering beside her father who was busily preparing a pistol and an automatic rifle. With tires screaming the SUV went careening out of their compound heading for safety on a prepared hold out position inside their subdivision. Bodyguards are chattering at the radio, another one is calling the security agency for more backup another one beside her is calling the emergency police line to report the incident and call for help. Then she heard shots behind them, someone is shooting at the chase car and their bodyguards are firing back, all of a sudden it was too much for an 18 year old and she lost her consciousness…

Compostela Valley, Philippines
There’s no better teacher than loss of life. The six percent acceptable training casualty rate attests to this. It was this small fact that kept Benjo on the edge of the whole duration of training. Now training is almost over and he is out here with his mates. He can hear his own heart beating and blood flowing through his veins. This is it; he kept telling himself, a test mission to make him worthy to be one of the “musangs.” A test that involves an actual contact with the enemy and has few counterparts in foreign armed forces, a simple tool that had proven its worth in the past, this is their batch’s test mission.

Serving as the squad’s forward scout, he heard a barely audible swishing of a tree branch and cracking of twigs. Suddenly he became aware of the receding bird sounds all around their position. A spectral outline began to materialize out of the darkness. A figure of a man grew clearer, carefully picking its way through the trees and failing on its attempt to move stealthily. With this, a newly formed orchestra of death of the Philippine Scout Rangers started to play a symphony of untimely demise unto the enemy. And it was Benjo that started the process.

“Six this is Point, expected party’s forward scout is in visual contact. Approaching North by Southwest bearing my position, shift positions accordingly, over”

With this message, he received two clicks in his radio, a silent way of the squad leader of acknowledging the forward scout’s report.

After five minutes of waiting that felt like forever, the orchestra’s conductor started the symphony of death. A single rifle crack from the squad leader’s M-14 shattered the quiet of the night. What followed next was a perfect rendition of a death symphony, mixed with the chorus of M-16’s interspersed with the slow rattle of a lone M60 and the rhythmic whump of grenades threw the column of communist cadre into disarray. After five minutes of intense firefight, it was over. Seven of the 30 strong enemy lay dying while drops of blood was all over the escape route they took. Amidst the dispersing smoke, the team rejoiced. It is a perfect execution of their plan and they were able to pull it off without any casualty. They can all now wear the “tabak” badge and follow after the steps of other legends…

Cry

cry
verb, cried, crying, noun, plural cries.
–verb (used without object)
to weep; shed tears, with or without sound.

Everything began with a slight drizzle and slowly the clouds began to let go of the pent up emotions, and the storm began. It was a frustrating sight. The rain abated but it was just only the eye of the storm that has settled on the spot. when will the storm lose itself?

A shaman came and saw that the storm was not something created by mother nature, it was a storm caused by malice. Warriors clamored for the sign to avenge the damage wrought by the storm. But the princess asked for patience, a wish that even the most stoic warrior couldn't ignore.

Chronicle

Day 01

A red sun rose from the east, it could mean a lot of things. It was a day of blood shed and triumphs. Battles both big and small raged all over the vale. It was on that day that this place was drenched with tears of triumph and frustration. It was just another day…

Day 02

Dark, ominous rain clouds completely covered the sky. Another portent; of things to come. A battle has been won but the war is on the brink of being lost. Silver lined the clouds, something created by lightning, maybe another omen? Danger and opportunity? Someone has to choose things for the hoplites, when will the oracle come and lead the phalanx to victory???

Chopsticks

A walk through my neighborhood at 3 am in the morning is an eye opener. Who would believe that this neighborhood can be capable of being quiet and serene. So quiet that I can hear the slight drizzle's individual drops, like a random audio bed playing for me as i flip flopped my way to the main thoroughfare. The sound of vehicles, rising and falling as they came and went past me provided a rhythmic addition to my audio bed. A tricycle stopped and the sound of its engines broke through my reverie.

"Ateneo? double ride?"

A nod from the driver and im on my way to my school. The rhythmic sound of the drizzle is gone now, the pulsating throb of the engine took its place. but the rise and fall of passing vehicles stayed. lights from lamp posts lazily danced before my thousand mile stare. ten minutes later im standing before the gates of Ateneo. A sleepy eyed guard opened the gate. Walking towards the left side of the school the gates closing behind me clanged, signalling the start of a stillness so deep that it brought me to a pensive reflection on how i could take over the world with a pair of chopsticks. I opened to the radio station and turned on the transmitter, airconditioners, monitors, mixers, amplifiers, computers, prepared a playlist and waited for the clock ticks to tell me that it is time to broadcast. While waiting for the right time i asked the question once again, is it possible to conquer the world with a pair of chopsticks? I wasn't able to answer the question though.

Delusion

In her blog, Dr. Digna Alba relates that "People cannot do anything about this. The media can. But the demand for the circus is so great that all media can do right now is to give in to this demand. Media can be gullible...gullibly strong at times. So, everyone gets a free ticket to carnival chaos!"(1) I beg to disagree when it comes to Philippine setting. Here is why...

Filipino communicators is one of the best in the world, coupled with idealism it is almost a perfect mix. Why a almost perfect? Simply because the idealists can complain and gripe all they want but they lack the power to do anything about it. Information is controlled by power blocs. These blocs are either those in power or those trying to bring those in power down, so they could takeover.

The supposedly "Gatekeepers of information" controls the information distribution here in Philippines, in theory that is, but in practice it is those media giants that control it. If you will watch, listen, and read closely you will be able to surmise a network or paper's side in an issue. This is subtly done, but one will understand what I'm trying to say, if they try doing what I will propose.

Try this as thought experiment. ABS-CBN's clock is ahead around five minutes with GMA's clock, thus TV Patrol is shown first than SAKSI. Anyway pay attention to the words used by TV Patrol and contrast those from what SAKSI used. Remember though that this is applicable only on controversial issues, because crimes and the like is pretty straightforward to be manipulated. This is also happening on Newspapers and it is done in a more blatant way. Simply compare their headlines, one will not put the issue as headline the other will, if they have the same headline, compare the words used in the headline and it will be clearer but if both has same sounding headlines, check the article itself. The radio networks follows almost an identical pattern with what is being done in TV.

It is not the media which is gullible it is the audience because they keep on taking what the media is giving to them, the media is deluded rather than gullible, because they firmly believe and think that they are serving truth, but the truth is that they are serving their own interests. Please do take note that I can say this only on the Philippine setting.

1. Digna Alba. Pointblank: free ticket to a carnival named chaos.
www.digna38.blogspot.com. 2005

Gutom

My world begun spin and tumble like an F-16 stalling on a high speed dog fight. Colors of red, green, and yellow began to fade out and the color black with varying sized spots of white started to overwhelm the swirl of colors. It is a wild ride willingly gone unto that went wrong. Panic begun to seep into my consciousness. A fear stemming from my baser instincts is continually sending signals to the rational part of my brain. rationality and instinct, at war, pulling me towards panic and positive action at the same time.

A loud pop followed with a sharp jolt of pain on behind my head pulled me back out of the spin, the kaleidoscope of colors ceased. Panic flew out of the room faster than the speed of sound, maybe even light. Everything is back to normal. It was my head hitting the wall behind that brought me back to real world. I really had to stop this crash diet, this will kill me sooner or later and by the going of things it will be soon. See you around I have to take a bite...

Plastic

A smile that could melt ice, a beauty that could turn heads, and an intelligence that could not be labelled as pushover. Caution should be exercised by those she meet. Because beneath the beautiful exterior a ruthless and cunning mind continuously plots to bring the end of her perceived enemies.

Everything is a facade nowadays, even the westerners erect facades. Erecting a facade is an asian practice of sorts, wherein the individual is subject to the whims and the wants of the group, unlike on western practice, the individual is given importance. A simple distinction that led to wars.

Anyway I'm straying from what i'm trying to say. I simply want to say that i hate facades down to my bones. Maybe because i seldom erect facades.