Private Log Recording 99:
// Alias: Spirit
The morning was gray and droplets formed on my window. I looked for a second at the tragic little bug crawling and sliding down the window with every step. For a second I felt sad, I think, or what I thought might have been sadness. It had been about ten years since I truly allowed myself to—or even, actually felt a feeling comparable to what was known as sadness. It was about 4AM, the E-drones…sets of glowing, hovering rakes would soon find their way across town before a lot of people had even awakened.

Years ago, random acts of violence had gotten so bad that the government decided to biologically regulate people’s moods. The E-drone spray would mist above the houses and in an instant all would feel at ease and we would not question it. Neither would we assume we should feel any other way. We had forgotten any semblance of disappointment that had lingered over from the day before, it’s hard to get to that point of concentrated feeling since even those classified as the otherwise “high priority: very depressed” tend to still be unable to have their negative thoughts penetrate the mood-regulation drug spray. Most of those people, who may be uncontrollable threats to society are sent away anyway. Which I guess is for the best. Why would we want relentless sobbing or those dreary souls contaminating the productivity of our county anyway?

I guess everything’s pretty swell. Right? I mean we’ve got the sun and the moon and there’s always ice cream in the freezer. No one really spends time around me but I feel pretty good.

Private Log Recording 100:
//Alias: Spirit
I’ll always remember that one night when I decided not to come home and in the morning when the spray went off, I tried not breathing for a minute. I felt a surge of emotions and that’s why I started my experiment…but I don’t know how to implement it. I don’t think anyone will listen to me… Anyway, the E-drones are roaring in the distance…it’ll be about a minute before I loose my train of thought. My mother never did like that my emotions overcame the mist late at night, but she never said anything either because she knew if I was perceived as uncontrollable, I’d be sent away too. So, I spent a lot of time running and not sleeping, to try and keep my mind straight.

Unlike most people, I’ve done some research into the developments behind the E-mist and why it was installed across America and I feel sort of guilty. The massive expenses used for this use of drones, for this type of infrastructure made me feel eerie. But it seems like these drones that mist the population with mood altering drugs have do with regulating society so not too many of one type of person are born. I believed in this for so long. I believed in the forced neutrality of people’s power and how humans have the potential to become livid or unpredictable at any time. I don’t know if I still believe…so I started working on a plan. I started thinking back to those brief moments where I held my breath till I almost passed out. To the 4am dawns where I didn’t let the mist effect me and to those passing moments thereafter where my mind felt new and rich… Then again, they—we—-no I guess they, whoever they are, don’t need all those pointless emotions and junk, I mean what does anger and unnecessary anxiety get us? Nowhere. Nothing? That’s the theory.
Nevertheless I have to go through with my plan. Ghost and I have been talking about it since I started the prototypes last summer. He knows I’ve always been small for my age and have a high voice, in turn, people don't always listen to me. So, I’m going to make the anti-mist-masks and Ghost is going to be what I call the “idol,” the face/facade that gains support from the masses. With Ghost by my side we will convert the people we know into mask wearing vigilantes, who will join our experiment. They won’t breathe the mist, and only then will they see what it does to stagnate their minds. It’s dangerous.

But I don’t think I’ll get in trouble….Ghost says I can’t be afraid, he says it’s brilliant what I’ve done, and so unexpected. Even if we aren’t feeling sad or anxious, fear exists, fear and guilt. It’s harder to alter those feelings than to alter the feelings of sadness or isolation…Ghost and I are afraid, but his bravery and my ideas will keep us going. We have double aliases and costumes for carrying out our plan, it’s a two-step verification for not getting caught. He’s going to wear a gallant black cloak with studded shoulder pads and a black shimmering face mask with just his eyes showing. He’s a specimen people will look at and instantly feel pleasantly about, or maybe even look up to as a superhero. I’m going to cloak myself too, my mask is red and covers my identifying facial features. I’m going to give Ghost an ear piece and tell him what to say. He’s going to gather the support of my anti-mist masks with his charisma and get everyone at Defcon to join in and refuse to be regulated next week.

Private Log 101
// Alias: Spirit
Some people, usually the older people who have more memories of the past think it’s weird, they even in their mental regulation states still judge me by my looks, think that I don't “look” like a hacker, “too conventional” “too clean,” “enjoys going outside and running.” Which is why the plan is only fool-proof if Ghost acts as the face of the project. Stereotyping is so strange— you know what?, I think the mists are especially strong today because I feel great. I feel like going for a run. 

Next week is Defcon. My parents hate that I go. I guess that is a residual part of the original hacker’s mind that does not change with mandated mood regulation. The slight anarchist side of things will always shine through. I always assure my parents that it’s a safe event, I assure them I won’t try to do anything funny or mess with anything…too important. Defcon used to be really popular—I mean really popular — we are talking fearless humans milling about by the thousands, so I’m told. It used to be unregulated and well, fun…but I’ll let you in on a little secret, even though it’s dangerous, it still is fairly unregulated. We’ve been experimenting for a few years with ways to stop the misting from altering our feelings and emotions, from stopping our innovation and creativity…..I shouldn’t say any more…but I will.
***
One week later…
Ghost and I have the perfect plan, we’re initiating it tonight. If we get the majority of people to wear the anti-mist masks, there’s no way we won’t experience a combustion of creative energy, emotions flowing that will make this a rather scarily unstable but productive meeting. Whoever we can convince to wear the masks will meet in one of the conference halls at 3AM. They’ll set their bio-trackers(chips everyone has implanted to make sure they aren’t going into isolation, it’s a long story…) to read that each person is in their hotel room (because we have the skills to do that) and they'll meet us in the hall. Then we will all partake in breathing real, non-regulated air when the E-drones spray over Las Vegas tomorrow. We will see what happens. I know it’s insubordinate, I know it’s going to be unpredictable but it’s going to change our lives. Even with heightened security we have found a loophole for the privacy of our experiment. Since some of the talks are top secret the government still allows us private secure rooms which we can use and if I can convince the security guards to wear a mask too, we shouldn't’ get caught.

Private Log 102:
The time has come. Ghost waltzes into the bustling hall full of supporters he has gathered throughout the day. They burst out into a chant, “All hail Ghost” they scream. I feel a smile creep across my face, I send a message to Ghost’s earpiece and tell him to announce to the room “the time has come!” He jumps on a table for dramatic effect, he passes out the masks to the hungry hackers, attendees, future-vigilantes, and well, everyone. I have sunglasses on in addition to my mask and Ghost’s eyes are covered in shiny goggles. I transmit another message for Ghost to announce. “Freedom is gone,” he says, “we had freedom of speech and the E-drones have taken some of that away. If I can’t actually have what I feel, if I can’t trust my mind anymore it doesn’t matter how “safe” we are. WE ARE NOT JUST BODIES! We are people who feel things in order to make change. This bio-hacking has to stop— when and if it encroaches on our ability to be human! He covers his face with his cloak and helps me on to the table, the hall is bustling with excitement.
Just then, sirens wail, the misting has to have started by now, but the law enforcement must be in the building, I hope nothing goes wrong. I get so nervous and hope so hard that I make my knuckles white as I press my fingers into the palms of my hands.
***
And here I am, watching Ghost get pulled away by the police and in that moment I stand up. I jump up on another table with my newfound excitement. I say “hey, you’ve got the wrong person. It was me….” and I uncloak myself to reveal to the convention who I really am. Everyone’s in shock, or the closest response similar that they can manage for the first time in some of their young lives now that their moods are unstable. 

“Yes it was me.” 

My red hair falls to my shoulders and before I can start pulling out more of my masks from my pocket, someone yells “it’s a girl?!” in a rather noncommittal yet surprised voice. 

“We are not just bodies, we’re all people with minds, yes I may not appear like what you envision a “hacker” or a master-mind to look like but that shouldn’t matter, I’m the one, I’m the one who made the masks and I’m the mind and the genius and the ideas behind this, not just the body…please let Ghost go, I knew no one would listen to me….so I had Ghost do all the talking.”

The police look incredulous even under their swat masks and heavy armor. They stop for a second. The people of Defcon stare at me, I assure them again, “It was me, not Ghost.”
I hold up the mask, I take out a crumbled diagram of the the mask’s structural planning. Whatever they see in that moment, something makes the people believe me. Before the police can take another step, I know the masks have worked because I start hearing sobbing. I hear cries and I hear laughter and the emotive responses that are seemingly “normal” for a shocking experience like this. Because of the masks, the people of Defcon start banding together and in an instant we form a riot bigger than the team sent to take who they assumed was a unruly master-mind, Ghost. They have the wrong guy, no wait…they have the wrong person.

I yell to whoever can hear me as the crowd roars, “We’re not just bodies, we’re minds that make a difference. Without our full potential for innovation through experiencing the good and the bad, with the E-mist we are far too close to zombies, to hardly counting as sentient beings…we are more than that!”

The police don’t drop Ghost, they can’t, they have to make a stand (and he’s technically an accomplice.) The next thing I know, the riot is storming the police, pushing them outside of the conference hall. I take one look back at the action, jump off the table I had been standing on and I just start running. I run into the heat of the Las Vegas sunset and I don’t stop for a long time, but for once, it feels overwhelmingly satisfying. I may have even teared up, or maybe it’s just sweat, it’s sweltering hot tonight.