Julienne’s EDiary


I didn’t show up at work today, either. This is all falling in to place; anarchy will be the future. Nobody suspects anything of me; I was the vice president, and I’m “heartbroken.” I was “in love” with the president. Well, that’s what the tabloids have been saying. Because I told them. Anyhow, the entire government is a pack of morons; I’ve been too “upset” to arrive at work, and there’s been a government shutdown. Little do they know that it’ll stay shut down forever. I have vetoed everyone who has questioned my judgement in the shutdown. They still believe that I’m innocent and upset. That I’m in love with the President. I’m horrible, yes, but I would never really love the President. He has a wife, and she doesn’t suspect me either; I’ve assured Charlotte that I wasn’t really in love with him, that I don’t know quite how to handle this, that she shouldn’t distrust me. You may wonder why I seek anarchy. Well, I think that destruction is the answer. This is a stupid country and no matter what happens, I think it’ll fail. So direct failure will be a lot easier. But why did I do this? Why not leave the duty for someone else? I did it, I plotted this, because in life we all come across a time when we seek revenge. This is my theory. That time hasn’t come yet for me, but for my whole life I’ve figured that if my need of revenge comes when I’m too old to plot anything, my life is incomplete. I’m incomplete without revenge; it’s something that we all possess. Anyhow, I don’t want an incomplete life, so I perform all of the revenge I’ll ever need in my youth. Not that I’m young at forty, but you understand. So no, my evilness is not why I killed the president. My life is why.

Julienne’s EDiary
My last entry may have left you speechless. My brain has been frantically running around in addition to yours. Anyway, this has NOT been going as planned. My alibi was that the President must have had a heart attack; he was old, so I did think this could be true. I have lots of these good ideas; I know that my brain works differently from everyone else’s. I never tell anyone, and no one knows that my mind is different. Contrary to what you may think, I’m a SUCCESSFUL mutation. Anyhow again, after Justin wrote a piece for the paper and the truth leaked, everyone knew that I had killed the president. But they didn’t believe Justin! I told the “truth”, that I found him dead, and everyone but Justin thought that I was innocent. WELL then.

Snap. A twig snapped above Matthew’s head. He was trekking Scotts Bluff, the nearby mountain. Nobody dared climb Scotts Bluff. The last time someone tried to climb Block Hill, she supposedly encountered “demons” and became rather sick in the mind- but nobody knew if it was really true.
“They a-app-approached meeee aat the cr-crack of dawn. I said, “Gooo aaway. I aam just trying to cl-climb thee mountain,”” Dana would tell whoever listened. She had acquired her stutter from the mountain demons; the crazed twenty five year old redhead didn’t stutter before climbing the mountain. Matthew Johonoh, however, didn’t agree that there were demons up there. He therefore decided to climb Scotts Bluff because of his dream.


Matthew’s dream; it was strangely helpful. You see, Matthew and Dana and their whole population lived in a somewhat typical society of what you would expect before the common era, except for that it was in 2250 and was highly isolated. The surrounding areas were landscaped like the times of the far, far past. Once the President died and Julienne Johonoh, probably his ancestor, took over, anarchy had arrived. In result the people experimented with different ways of government from all different times, but none had really worked and nobody ever bothered to change the landscape after the society type wasn’t lived in anymore. The landscapes mysteriously moved themselves to Scotts Bluff. Anyhow, teenaged Matthew had the same dream every night while sleeping on his cot; his dream was located just on the top of Block Hill, and it went just like this in his head.
Green bushes adorned with strange decorations are swaying, exposing seven clocks that are all set to different times. “JOHONOH. JOHONOH. JOHONOH, ” is repeatedly being shouted by both girls and boys of all ages. This uproar is confusing me tremendously; Johonoh is my surname. I cannot seem to see any of the people shouting, although their voices rebound in my eardrums after being sent out. I’m in what used to be a forest but the space surrounding me is filled with an array of landscapes. I realize this; I’m on Scotts Bluff. All of a sudden the clocks in the bushes jump out at me, and they seem to scream, “Johonoh! Do it! Johonoh!” too. I don’t understand this dream the slightest bit. Although I am apprehensive, I approach the forest beyond the bushes because I don’t know where else I will find some form of life, whether human or otherwise, in the forest that I’m in, and I need to figure out what is going on. So I trudge through the various terrains; sand, pavement, and grass are among them. Eventually I reach the forest and I slither through evergreen trees. “Johonoh will figure it out. Johonoh must fix it. Johonoh, Johonoh.” The uproar begins again; “Johonoh, Johonoh!”
All of Justin Johonoh’s descendants had experienced this dream, in fact, but it took until the time of Justin’s great-great-great-great-grandson to figure out what sort of help the dream was. Matthew was the first one brave enough to venture Scotts Bluff and find out what it all meant. So there he was, digging foot after foot into stubborn deep brown sludge, sands, and all of the other terrains in attempt to figure out what this dream was trying to accomplish.
“Johonoh, Johonoh,” was the whisper of the trees surrounding Matthew as he climbed to the top of the mountain.
“Who is saying that? Who?” Matthew’s eyes swiveled furiously as he asked the question. Suddenly the trees shifted in the wind to reveal the heavily ornate bushes. Matthew gasped, astounded; although his life had been anything but ordinary, there wasn’t any sort of magic or trickery involved until now. He was born in the village at the base of Scotts Bluff, the only known community in the United States, but of course nobody had contacts in other countries and as the village at Scotts Bluff was located in what was Nebraska, nobody really knew how to get to these people. After the government’s shutdown lasted just a hundred years too long, all of the United States’ residents panicked, testing methods of the past; eventually, they settled on all that the confused population could. People thought that there would be some sort of savior and they just waited for the savior while living simple life. They crafted cots and worked with wood to make a roof, but their rather limited resources didn’t allow them to enjoy any of the former life’s pleasures. The children, furthermore, were not treated to anything, really, even school, and on the rare occasions when they ventured from their cots, kids like Matthew just talked among each other. English had been passed down and although most people weren’t exactly intelligent, they weren’t illiterate. They didn’t know what else they could do, other than talking, what other entertainments awaited to be discovered. These people did try to find ways of old entertainment. They didn’t know that Time, rather life, hides sometimes, and no matter how hard you try, you might not find it. The only people who find time are usually the ones who don’t look for their own. Anyhow, Matthew had thus far lived a boring life, and seeming human-like trees took him by quite a surprise. He shuddered tremendously as his voice cracked out,
“Please. I don’t understand!” To no avail was he answered. The bushes just grew gaps and from their gaps were clocks released. Clocks? Why clocks?
“Gosh, oh, hwehhhhth!” Matthew prayed daily with this strengthening, amending, and pragmatic mantra. Mantras, specifically this one, named by Matthew the Hwea-Hwea, were imperative to Matthew’s life. They assisted him with his life in many invaluable ways, all of which have yet to be discovered. Anyhow, Matthew was praying with all of his might for both an answer to this strange question and an end to this madness. His currently abysmally functioning mind turned and turned and didn’t stop, but no answer did it find near.
“JOHONOH! JOHONOH!” The uproar’s volume increased by the millisecond.
“JOHONOH! JOHONOH!”
“AHA!” Matthew had finally realized that this was his dream. His dream was this. His dream would happen. WHAT?! Well, it took that fellow long enough. The shouts of Johonoh were the same, the fact that he was on Block Hill, the bushes, the clocks… All of these facts, these pieces, fit together to complete the puzzle of his mission. Well, not really. Although Matthew Johonoh was incredibly intelligent and he finally understood the mystery, God knows that incredibly intelligent people don’t always use their massive brains when bombarded with mysteries. In fact, they hardly ever do. Matthew still had no clue about how to solve the real puzzle, the whole puzzle, the puzzle of his dream; the puzzle of what the dream meant. He paced angrily, muttering to himself his thoughts.
“JOHONOHHHHH!” Crash!
“What… the…” Matthew stared at people who now flooded this forest. With bright and wide eyes they gaped back at him, but knowingly and assuredly instead of Matthew’s confusion and terror.
Crack. Crunch. Crack. The footsteps of these people lead to Matthew, but they didn’t intend to harm him. Matthew realized that his dream was just the layout of this. In his dream, he realized, he didn’t accomplish anything, and he didn’t experience some of these adventures while missing out on some others. So this was a little different from his dream, but he still had to solve the clock mystery. The clocks, at a closer look, were all set to different times. What was this? Did Matthew have to do anything?
“JOHONOH! JOHONOH!”
“I GET IT!”, Matthew yelled back to the people, who were now circled around him and the clocks. Matthew just looked up and down at the clocks. He had been doing this for the past ten minutes now. Ultimately, Matthew did find the task that he had to complete. It did take an hour of staring and thinking and the clocks bouncing up and down, but Matthew Johonoh did find out what he had to do.
“Okay. Third clock down.” Matthew had been rewinding the clocks, all to 5:00; Matthew didn’t know why, but he had the urge to wind them all to 5:00. He was on the third of the seven clocks, and the fascination to Matthew was something that his father had told him. His father had told him that seven generations ago, there had been a normal government, a normal society. Maybe this was why there were seven clocks; each generation had tried a new method of society, and each had a different time period. Hence the various terrains, all man-made. Hence also the different times, because each time the people created a new society, they thought it would be the right one. They therefore wound the clocks to twelve, because they wanted it to be the beginning of “real” time. Each society did this, and put their clock from the remainder of the prior world’s clocks on the top of Scotts Bluff. None of the societies had succeeded, and so Matthew was stuck with seven clocks pointlessly wound.
“JOHONOH! JOHONOH! Johonoh. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.” The uproar had turned to a praise of Matthew; it told him that he was solving the puzzle.
“Okay. OKAY! YES!” Matthew Johonoh’s fingers speedily flew across the clocks, his head burning with a rage of accomplishment. His legs cramped but he was too concerned with his mission to notice. He was nearing the result. He was almost there! The result, of course, wasn’t palpable. There wasn’t any idea in Matthew’s mind of what the result would be, but he just didn’t care. A knowledge in his mind was that he absolutely had to complete this unassigned task. Matthew just really had to finish winding the clocks.
“Okay! Let’s go!” Matthew said this not to himself but to the Johonoh-shouters. He had turned the last clock to 5:00, and was about to set the clocks off. You see, these clocks could be stopped then set, and Matthew had to obviously do that. He handed the clocks to everyone; to the people at the top of the mountain, the ones who had undoubtedly lived on top of the mountain all along; throughout the time when Justin lived to the time when Matthew lived. Somehow they didn’t age. Some were men with sparse yet puffy hair and some were tiny girls. He held the last clock.
“We do it when I stomp.” And Matthew stomped, loud and hard, and the clocks were set.

“Woah.” Matthew’s spinning head was slowing and his flailing feet landed on the ground. Where this ground was, he had no idea. Who were these people beyond the desk which was in front of him? He glanced at the clock. It had just turned 5:00. A sharp noise drew his attention to the girl, who was advancing on the man with a sharpened dagger.


“Julienne! Wha-what are you doing? Why? Why are you doing this? Have you gone crazy?” The man, who wore a nice-looking suit, was petrified by the girl, who didn’t look quite as important as he did. He was advancing towards the wall opposite Matthew, trying to press a security button that would send a security guard to him when the girl grabbed his wrists.



“Oh, I need your power. I’ll be in charge,” the girl said. Matthew didn’t know these people, but he had to do something about this. To stop the girl. Julienne, or whatever her name was. He spotted a heavy-looking paperweight on the nearby desk and skillfully hurled it at the arch of the girl’s back, then scurried back to the door. He hadn’t been noticed until now, when Julienne shrieked in pain, falling back, releasing her grip on the man and and leaving time for the him to press the security button and to run out of the room alongside Matthew. And so when Julienne thought of what to say to her mother she was arrested and sirens surrounded her, nothing came. The scowl on her face displayed defeat but she Julienne still accidently disguised her face with hurt, forgetting that she had been busted. And because of pure bravery and wit the United States lived on.