The fifth of november

"Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of every day routine- the security, the familiar, the tranquility, repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, thereby those important events of the past usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, a celebration of a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the 5th, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are of course those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the annunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance, and depression. And where once you had the freedom to object, think, and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillence coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myraid of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night I sought to end that silence. Last night I destroyed the Old Bailey, to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words, they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you then I would suggest you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot. Our story begins, as stories often do, with a young up-and-coming politician. He's a deeply religious man, a member of the conservative party. He is of single-minded convictions and has little respect for the political process. He arranges for a special project at Larkhill in the interest of 'national security'. At first, it is believed to be a search for biological weapons for which cost is no object. But the real purpose behind the project is power, total agamonic domination. The project, however, ends violently... but not in vain, for a new way to wage war is discovered from the blood of their victims. Imagine a virus - imagine the worst kind of disease you can think of, and then imagine that you and you alone have the cure. How best to use such a weapon? It is at this point in our story that along comes a spider. He is a man who seems to have no conscience; for him, the ends always justify the means. It is he who suggests that the weapon be used not against an enemy of the country but rather the country itself. Three targets are chosen to maximize the impact of the attack: a school, a hospital, and a water-treatment plant. Several die within the first few weeks. Thousands more die in the following months. And at last the true purpose of their plan comes into view. Before the attack on St. Mary's, no one would have predicted the outcome of the elections. No one. But after the election, lo and behold, a miracle. Some believed that it was an act of God himself, or that a pharmaceuctical company owned by one of the party members made them all insanely rich. But the real genius of their plan was the fear. Fear became the ultimate tool of this government. Not long after, a group of religious extremeists are captured, tried, and executed while a memorial is erected to canonize their victims. And our young politician is soon elected to the newly appointed position of High Chancellor. The rest, as they say, is history."

* Quote from V for Vendetta.