Still your brother in chains

I was released from jail this morning only to find myself in a much more unexpected kind of imprisonment.

The guards came in at 7:30 and told me that I was going to appear before a judge, since I had refused to be released on my own recognizance a few hours after I was arrested. (I refused to be release because I figured I had better just stay put and let Horace find me, plus I had no where else to stay and no hotel owner within 15 miles would let me stay with them... And I had of course heard it from a guard that the jail had free internet. Go figure.) They told me I could plead guilty or innocent or no contest, and the judge would sentence me there.

I was expecting to be brought in to a courtroom, but instead they put me in a room with a TV and a video camera. The judge appeared on the video screen and explained my rights. She had brown hair and a severe expression. She didn't look directly into the camera (i.e., at me) but seemed preoccupied with some papers on her desk.

"Horace Gardener, you've been charged with trespassing and resisting arrest," she said. "How do you plead?"

"I'm not Horace Gardener," I said.

"The defendant will refer to me as 'Your Honor,'" said the judge.

I rolled my eyes as loudly as I could. "Your honor," I said.

"You say you're not Horace Gardener?" asked the judge.

"No, I'm his identical brother," I said. "You can look at my ID, which you probably have a photocopy of. I'm Leo Gardener."

The judge shuffled through some of her papers, then pulled out the one she was looking for. "Minus the beard, he looks exactly like you," she said.

"There are subtle differences," I said.

"Nevertheless I can't deny that you aren't the same person. Sorry about you being in jail. Case dismissed."

Then the screen turned off. A guard came in, took me to another cell, gave me my clothes, and after I had changed, let me out of the jail into an alley. There was a taxi waiting there.

"Need a ride somewhere?" the driver said.

I was about to say "No, thanks," when a blue suburban pulled up. There was a black and red star painted on the door. A white woman with dreadlocks leaned out of the window and said, "Are you Horace Gardener?"

"No," I said. "But I'm his brother. We're two of three identical triplets."

"Identical triplets don't exist," she said. "Get in."

"I think I'll walk," I said.

And then she said, "No, come on, we need a speaker for our Saturday night meeting."

"Who are you?" I said. The cabbie was watching us with some degree of interest.

"My name's Kendra and I'm from the 1st National Anarchist House of Madison. We have a potluck and meeting every Saturday night and we always need a speaker. The grandmothers of one of our members heard you say some amazing things at that motel in De Forest. We've all been talking about it. Get in."

I thought of Horace coming to look for me. "Um, I'd better stick around De Forest," I said.

But then two large tattooed people, a man and a woman, came out of the rear window of the suburban, opened up one of the doors, gave me a cigarette, then grabbed me by either arm and thew me in. They sat down on either side of me and then shut the door. Then Kendra hit the gas and we were tearing out of De Forest.

"That seemed really wrong," I said. No one said anything. There was a backpack on the ground that had a pin that said, "Visualize Armed Revolution," with a picture of an AK-47 on it. I gestured at it and said, "Nice," to the large man next to me. "I don't think I'll make a good speaker. I don't believe in violence," I said.

"Look, sorry," said Kendra, "But we really wanted somebody from the mad community. We thought you probably wouldn't mind actually. Based on what Fur's grandma said."

"Mad community? You mean crazy people?" I said.

"Yeah," said Kendra, "Except most mad community people I know prefer to call themselves the mad community rather than crazy people."

"You know, this is the second time I've had my sanity questioned in the last couple of days," I said.

"Welcome to the revolution," said the large woman sitting next to me.

I thought about this.

"I don't think we're part of the same revolution," I said.

No one said anything after that.

They brought me to a large wooden house in Madison and locked me in the room I'm in now, which appears to be a revolutionary library, and which appears to have free internet. (The internet is everywhere now. This is starting to alarm me.)

They let me out at dinner and I tried to escape. Everyone had a good laugh and then I gave my talk, which I think I'll have to recount later because I think someone is about to come in, and I don't think they know I'm writing this. I'm going to try to get them to let me out tomorrow (it's Christmas Eve, right?) but I heard one of them saying Christmas was bad for a bunch of reasons, so maybe they'll keep me locked up.

Horace, if it's not too much trouble, could you come rescue me?