My Website

Here is my photonarative I made in photoshop.

Here is the short story I wrote for english.

Quis custodiet ipsos custodies?
Who will watch over the watchers?

Monica Jane Adams, born 03/14/1984, picked up the phone at 269, 17th street San Francisco.
‘Hello?’
‘Hey, it’s me.’
‘How you doing?’
‘Good. We’re on the way home.’
‘Ok. How was the game?’
‘Excellent. We destroyed them. 5-1.’
At those words the program transferred the caller’s location, information, and the conversation it had recorded to the NSA. Brian picked it up, listened to the message and filed it as irrelevant and unimportant. He hated his job. He sat at the same desk everyday in the “AT&T building that really was just full of bored people like him. Everyday he eavesdropped on about 500 phone calls that the computer had detected a keyword in and had sent to one of the 350 people in the office. Everything they did was recorded in every possible way. Everyone who worked there knew that they were watched by a team of higher ranked agents. Whenever a call came through that was genuinely suspicious was transferred to the higher team. Brian had been working this job for the NSA for two years and had only ever heard 3 suspicious calls. The first time he got excited, but then he learned that after he had labeled the messages as “suspicious and require further reviewing,” somebody in the higher office takes care of them. The truth was that only one of those three messages had actually been important and had led to the arrest of a potential terrorist. Brian only knew this because he was friends with the higher agent who had received it. Mr. Hunt had told Brian what they had found out because of his message and told him that if he continued to produce good numbers, he may find himself in the higher office. Nothing had come up since that day though. Brian hated his job so much that he knew that getting the higher job would depress him more because no one had ever quit the higher office for another job.

            It was a Tuesday when Brian received the call. 11.42AM. He listened to the recording expecting to hear about somebody’s random story about a faulty building, when he heard a familiar voice:
            ‘It is done. The final evidence has been removed. Next week the press will announce that CIA investigators found plans to hijack the planes in a known Al-Quaida leader.’
The next voice sounded even more familiar.
            ‘Are you sure this conversation isn’t being recorded on you public spying program?’
            ‘Positive.’ Replied the first. ‘I had Mr. Hunt block all government official’s phone numbers from the tracing system. I am sure he did it well. He is a part of this too.’
            ‘And you are sure there’s no way the people could find out we did it.’
‘I am sure. The last thing we need the world to know is that the American Government was responsible for several attacks on it’s own people.
Brian froze. The first voice was none other than Lieutenant General Keith Alexander, the Director of the NSA, and he was pretty sure that the other was the CIA director Porter Goss. Brian knew this because they had both been interviewed on half of the hundreds of videos he had watched during his training, which had really been none other than an excuse to pay him less than minimum wage for a few weeks. Brian had no idea what to. The NSA director had said that Hunt was behind it too, so if he turns it in to the higher office, Hunt will know he found out, but if he dismissed it as unimportant and someone else found out, he could be accused of hiding evidence of crimes against humanity. He wanted to turn them in. To be a hero, but he would never get away with it alive. After about five minutes of just sitting there, Brian labeled the file as “suspicious and requires further reviewing.” Figuring that Hunt liked him, he would surely just delete the message and tell Brian to hold his tongue. Brian may even be promoted in exchange for not spilling the beans.

Brian finished out his day hardly doing any more work. He thought about stopping by Hunt’s office and telling him that his secret’s safe, but Brian wasn’t even sure that the secret was safe. But Hunt would have deleted the recording by now and Brian didn’t have a copy. No recording, no evidence. Brian was still mulling the whole thing over in his head when he got in his car. He hardly noticed a thing on his drive home. He didn’t realize that the semi was speeding towards him until a second before it hit.

Time of death: 7.23PM 08/29/2008. Brian Davis died on impact in a traffic accident. He served his country well, and was a good husband and father.