The Broza-Child-Protect.

Daryl Weston and his wife had signed to get the new parental control program granted by their Town Lexington. They were naturally anxious people and fond of the new techno-science devices improving their daily lives as much as their social rank. Every morning, the family was busied in a great hurry, for their children had to leave early to join their private college in downtown Boston, where the staff cared for the precious easiness of the well-informed customers.

Actually, the trip to school was quite long, in a train pretty wide-open to random events, say attacks and robbery. This was a sort of morning adventure. Thus, until the children came back and safe at eve, their parents never ceased to get deeply involved in their own business, more than they took heed to the horrorshow inwhich their children travelled. In other words, they were resolute like business fanatics. Truth, the news had reported only one attack on this line during the past year, and nothing before. But the parents thought that under cover of a survey device, nothing wrong could happen in the USA within the brand new XXI century so different from the dreamed past .

As might be expected, the couple had been chosen among thousands of families, to test a new system of parental control implemented on the lines towards Boston City. As a matter of fact, the free parental control would be tried mostly around the residential district in Lexington. The device looked like an invisible software able to detect and record the digital tracks of children when they passed under the entrance portico of the station. Thus, a software robot sent on the spot, e-mails to parents' computers. So they could be immediately informed of all stages of the school-trip their children. Consequently, the parents were, at the same time, informed of any digression their children might try to escape the device, say hurry towards shoplifting and truantery. In that very risky business outa there in what one called the forests of towns, say a gloomy reservation of pervert-solitary-adults.

The service had been called the "Broza child-protect." And the device was hidden in a chip grafted into the transit card to validate the boy's ticket, when he passed under the portico of the new futuristic era. And the sensors followed him closely all along the line. The parents could inquire online hour by hour, the whole stages of the hand delivery their most valuable jewells. However, the child still felt a little fettered by this new pace of progress. It was as if Big Broza and Sister returned to school under the threatening glance and grin of a supervisor encline to uncoil the worst snaky punishment. The children were certainly abuse safe ; apart from parents despotism upon their phones and computer.

Advertising speaker said in a robotic tone that sounds more political than technical, though enthused: "This service is offered by your municipality to fight against acts of vandalism and sometimes violence against your offspring on the road towards school." One knows the barbaric Huns, say the gangs of young unemployed managing troubles. And that threat was probably the last suburb political stake one could debate on TV.

The thing cost $ 30 per month. On more risky lines the thing grew high-raise-costly. However, it is not less than 2000 subscribers who ran this new device to inaugurate this morning at the gate of spring 2020, according to the time zone of the WestWorldCoast.

The Weston had dressed their children, like to meet Britney Spears herself in some afterparty of a crazy shopping. They were so excited to have been registered in the paradise network, as if surrounded by the troops of God's angels who could watch and survey their digital garden. Children left home in some playing scene of hugs in Rockwell Puritan fashion and imagery, openly showing their tickets squeezed by wavy hands to comfort their parents.

Along the line, Daryl Weston and his wife received plenty of mails: "Your child has just passed the portico Lexington Station. And we have the honor to inform you bla bla bla " And this chat lasting, until the children were parked in the college quadrangle barbedwire ringfence.

As usual, Daryl spent his lunch break to nibble some techno-scientific sushi and other news online TV. It happened he chated with a cold fish when broke such worst a flash info he had never heard in the whole U.S., say since the last earthquake that had shaken the whole California. The flash repeated loopingly that a police patrol had invested the most prestigious and popular Mall of Lexington, for the reason that a sniper has shot blindly on the customers.

The event had started like a mere routine visit. A Millicent Patrol, that is the police, had just checked the complaint of a woman threatened by her abusive husband. And when they realized she did not answer, they entered the house to find her dead within a mostly horrorshow crime scene tinged with red krasif of the great natural firm painted on the walls. The crime has been played with utmost violence. Worse yet, the police arrived too late, just after the murder, because everything was still burning red hot.

Immediately, they questioned the neighborhood who had seen, as they told, the ex-husband steal the car of his ex-wife to flee in a train of violence, that the whole neighborhood had recognized as his very brand. But, the neighbors didn't interfer, for they had taken the habit to ignore this domestic turmoil, which could turn into street massacre in full-telly-screen at first provocation or frowning eyelid.

The Millicents had just to follow the bloody tire tracks, and other horrorshow tell-tales of testimony, which led them around the mega mall of the city. There they saw the full range of ultra-violence uttered by the driven-madman. People looked like hungry ghosts leaving the area, squealing all their guts out like rapted piglets, unspeackable words mixed with complaints sometimes strangely joyous for they were out and safe. "The event was heated to white firy violence and passion, " said the maister-cop in charge of the investigation. When he pulled out his heavy blue-steel gun, to shoot the final picture of the devil himself, clearly identified within the Center, where the peace-minded family usually did her shopping on weekends.

Daryl Weston was wholly paralyzed in front of his monitor, it was kinda tsunami of free violence, which stranged him outa his business. Though, all this crap was still behind the glassy screen. On the other hand, he received on the same monitor, and at the same time, e-mails from the parental control, which provided security for her children.

He became thoroughly scared when thinking this mall was in his city, so his family could be shopping there. Except that they were shopping on weekends, and the shooting burst in full week. Inside the Mall, the Millicents numbered three corpses. And nobody could testify the serial killer had been killed. Some suggested he had ended his dirty killings by shotgun, say by force of lack of bullets.

The witnesses could only say the madman firstly cast bullets on the floor, while he entered shops to threaten everything was still moving. Immediately, everybody had already taken refuge under the cheap plastic tables. According to some military or social drill formerly managed to protect themselves from psychotic armed and, say nuclear attacks. Very usefull today indeed !

When the Millicents invaded the mall, they opened fire fairly quickly and started a male gender toughest dialogue evoking the gunfight at OK Coral. Still, a cop fell on the marble alley. When the battle became a trench-warry nobody could longer recognized others. And customers they ran away, and female screamed inaudible words meaning : "He will kill us all".

Flash-info blazed with some background image in three tough characters including two Millicents. Then, one could watch an interview of the maister-cop who took the light as well as the purest seductive male so-called Steve MacQuenn in "Bullit" now in Boston shopping alley. Around, one could smell gunpowder and oil of triggers, mingled with the fragrance of the red and green vegetables splattered on the walls of the supermarket mixed with cold blood.

And some suggested that the killer had been shot by a stray Millicent bullet, fortunately right in forehead between the eyes of the killer, a good job for sure. Certainly, he had gone too far when he threatened the less-than-fifty-years housewives in a gigant supermarket Downtown. Above all, the madman had shot two cops and he had injured other bystanders. There was a sort of unspoken request among the Millicents to get it over quickly, by shooting him dead at short notice. Wasn't this madman the very elected contender for suicide ? Was he ? In short, he was already well trained in connubial intimacy and ultra-violence with his wife to achieve love in the gloomiest hell.

So it was a huge story that left several wounded and four corpses. For the reporter had to remember the ex-wife, who was already in the wooden box within the fridge of the Millicents. There, only families and investigators were allowed to visit the victims of domestic violence, but as it happens oftenly, too late.

Daryl Weston was thoroughly shocked. And he thought again, because it was reasonable and rational, that in the past, violence was common. But this was like a play or movie theater, say gore and never to be included into real life.

When he was deeply involved in his own thoughts about this memorable event, he saw all-over on the screen, two faces who seemed not unknown. While breathless and speechless, the crowd hurried to see what she had just escaped. All crowded to the ghostly horrorshow. And there, planted among housewives dragged to the ground by their heavy bags of plastic barred by the supermarket brand, Daryl Weston saw his two children among the bewildered eyes who gorged themselves of this bloody crime scene.

The parental control device as claimed all day long : the children should be present in a classroom to burst their brains about a problem of calculation of trains that never arrive on time. Frankly, Daryl, struck by this vision of the worst, should acknowledge that something didn't work in this "Broza child-protect." And he had probably underestimated the children skill of invention. Clearly, they had already managed a parade to escape survey.

As good parents, Weston had simply imposed the Broza device. And they never required the complicity of their own children. And so they thought easily, it was the fail in the device, which would be left aside in the weird XXI century. Finally, the Weston who erased their family account ... they did their next shopping together on next weekend, within the mall very hot scene of the crime.

Copyright Demian West 2008