Joshua Adams was enjoying the peace and quiet of having the house all to himself on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Yes, it was a good day... until the T. P. knocked on the door...

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(Article changed on September 22, 2012 at 08:32)

(This is fiction/satire)

Joshua Adams was enjoying the peace and quiet of having the house all to himself on a lazy Sunday afternoon. His wife was at the mall shopping with her friends and his two teenage boys were ... well, somewhere. He was stretched out on the recliner in the living room browsing through the Sunday paper when the doorbell chimed. He waited for a second ring before getting up.

At the front door of his large comfortable suburban home, he looked through the adjacent glass panel and saw two burly men dressed in matching black suits, shoes, and dark sunglasses.

Josh was in a lighthearted mood. He opened the door and greeted them with, "Sorry guys, but I already gave at the office."

Josh smiled at his little joke but there was no reaction from the two men. He tried another one.

"If you're looking for the crack house, it's on the next block over. Can't miss it. Overgrown weeds in the front yard, an engine hanging in chains from a tree, badly in need of a paint job."

Nothing.

"Mr. Joshua Adams?" the man to the right asked.

"Yes."

"Mr. Joshua Randolph Adams?"

"Listen, fellas, if this is about that fix it ticket I got in 1988 when my brake lights went out I'm sorry I never mailed it in but I swear I got them fixed. You see, I was getting ready to move to another state, and, well, you know how it is, it got lost in the shuffle, then I forgot about it and-"

"We're associated with the FBI, Mr. Adams."

"Really."

"Yes, sir. We're the T. P. Division."

"Teepee? As in, "Hey, Tonto, got room in the teepee for me and a couple of hot squaws?"

Josh chuckled at his joke. The men remained stone faced.

"T. P. as in toilet paper?"

"T. P. stands for Thought Police, sir."

Both men took out their credentials. Joshua casually glanced at them. He still had his lazy Sunday afternoon smile on his face and was not taking this seriously. He stepped forward and peered up and down the quiet street. No one else was around.

"All right, guys, I give up. What's the gag? Is this Candid Camera, some wacky new reality show, or what?"

"No gag, Mr. Adams. We're federal agents."

Josh's smile faded.

"Let me see those credentials again."

Josh stuck out his hand. The men offered them and this time he studied them, comparing them with their photographs and asking the man on the left to spell his eastern European surname composed almost entirely of consonants. Beneath Thought Police was a phone number and email address but no street address.

"Good job, guys. These things look real. Someone went to a lot of trouble to mock these up, but I guess with Photo Shop and all that stuff you can pretty much-"

"Mr. Adams, they are real. May we come in?"

"No, Mr. Meriwether, or whoever you are, you may not come in."

Meriwether looked at the man on the left, who took a pen and notepad out of his jacket packet and jotted something in it.

"So how long have you two been on the job? I never heard of the T. P. before."

"Congress authorized our charter and appropriations last year and we've been on active duty for three months."

"That's odd. I watch the news, read the papers, and I don't recall hearing one word about this being discussed or approved by Congress."

"It was a rider attached to an emergency military appropriations bill which was passed during the last hour of the final congressional session of the year."

"You didn't introduce yourself as an FBI Agent but you said you were associated with the FBI. What exactly does that mean?"

"Yes, that's observant of you. We are an autonomous agency and are not in the FBI or part of their structure but we work closely with the Bureau. We have our own duty stations at all FBI field offices and have access to their data bases and other resources, but whereas the FBI is concerned with investigating all federal and interstate crime, we have only one mission and point of focus."

"Let me guess: that would be policing thought."

"Correct."

"And just how exactly does one go about doing that, policing thought?"

"We have the most advanced technology available, most of it classified, which enables us to uncover thought patterns which are not in alignment with American values or policies."

"You're not talking about tapping phones, bugging conference rooms, monitoring emails..."

"There are other agencies already handling those activities."

"So what exactly do you do?"

"All thoughts are associated with brain waves, and these waves produce specific frequencies and patterns. Our system scans a designated sector and is programmed to alert us to suspicious thought patterns. Then a field team follows up to investigate and determine the nature and source of the suspect thoughts."

"The source?"

"The individual or group generating the suspect thought forms."

"Suspect thought forms. I see. And those would be...?"

"Anything that is anti-American, such as being a member of or sympathetic to any group opposed to American policies or activities and promoting negative attitudes toward the government."

"That's a pretty wide net. After all, one can be a patriot and be opposed to certain government policies and activities."

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Adams. These are dangerous and critical times. There's no more wiggle room or gray area. You are either with us or against us, one hundred percent."

"And who exactly decides which thoughts are anti-American?"

"The Commissioner of the T. P."

"And his name would be...?"

"That's classified information."

"So how's business? Made any arrests yet?"

"Quite a few."

"Really. I haven't heard a word of this in the media."

"We keep a low profile."

"Would you excuse me for a moment?"

Joshua walked in his house and glanced over at the empty recliner, and then came back out, this time shutting the door behind him.

"I just had to check to see if I had fallen asleep on the recliner and all this is just a bad dream."

The man to the left wrote in his notepad again.

"And what are the people you arrest charged with?"

"I'm afraid I can't be more specific about our activities or methods. I can tell you we have our own independent system to process offenders and facilities for detention and incarceration."

"Do the offenders get a jury trial?"

"No. A T. P. case officer decides what is best for all concerned: the misguided individual as well as the country as a whole."

Joshua shook his head slowly.

"God I wish this was Candid Camera."

The second man wrote in his notepad again.

"Mr. Adams, we have some portable devices in the trunk of the car and we'd like to come in and check the thought forms in the house. This way if nothing comes up we can clear you and we'll be on our way, or..."

"Yes, or?"

"Or if we do get some hits, we would then come back when everyone is home to determine which of the four individuals living here is emanating the extremist thoughts."

"Mr. Meriwether, as I'm sure you know, I have two teenage sons, nineteen and seventeen, and part of the job description of a teenager is to question everything and rebel. It's a part of growing up and finding your own way and becoming independent from your parents, etc. It's quite normal, and as long as it doesn't get out of hand no harm is done. This is a process every family deals with and it's not something which requires the intervention or services of the Federal Thought Police to sort out, so if you'll excuse me..."

"Mr. Adams, we have the authority to enter any dwelling which has been officially designated as a possible site of un-American or seditious thinking."

"Mr. Meriwether, you need a warrant to enter a private residence."

"No, sir. The police do but we don't. It says so in our charter, the one Congress passed and the President signed."

"Your charter. Speaking of charters, have you ever read the Declaration of Independence or the Constitution? Those are the primary charters our Republic is based on."

"No, I haven't."

"So I imagine you've never heard of Samuel Adams."

"No, I haven't. Why do you ask?"

"He was one of the rebellious men who helped found this country, a brilliant, brave, and patriotic man we are all indebted to. He signed the Declaration of Independence, was a representative from Massachusetts at the Continental Congress, and helped guide the country through the Revolutionary War period and the establishment of the Republic.  He was  later   elected Governor of Massachusetts. I am a direct descendant of Samuel Adams and proud to be related to him. He would throw a fit if he was here right now."

"Then I guess it's a good thing he's not here."

"No, it is definitely not a good thing."

"Here's my card, Mr. Adams. Please call within the next forty-eight hours to set up an appointment when all your family members will be present and we can come by. We will need up to two hours to do our job."

"And if I don't call?"

"Then we will come by at a time of our choosing."

"By the way, Mr. Meriwether, have you ever read a book called 1984 by George Orwell or perhaps Brave New World by Aldous Huxley?"

"No sir, I haven't."

"Do you ever read anything, Mr. Meriwether?"

"Only what I'm given and pertains to my job."

"So I guessed."

"Good day, Mr. Adams."

"It was a good day up until you showed up."

The man on the left wrote in his notepad again. When he finished, they walked to their car. As they got in the vehicle, Marion Adams, Joshua's wife, pulled into their driveway.

"Who were those men you were talking to?"

"The Thought Police."

"The what?"

"The Thought Police."

"No, really, who were they?"

"Marion, remember those friends of Tom and Sharon's they wanted us to meet, the ones who cashed out everything and retired to Costa Rica?"

"Yes, that was David and Sally Hightower. You weren't very interested at the time."

"I've been giving it a second thought. It might be worth looking into."

"Why the sudden change of attitude?"

"Two words."

"Yes?"

"Thought Police."

"Joshua Adams, what is going on with you?"

"Marion, please, just humor me for the moment. Let's take a Sunday afternoon drive in the hills and talk about this in the car while we're driving. Don't say anything right now, or here, but even more importantly, don't think. I'm serious. In fact, why don't you sing something patriotic, like the Star Spangled Banner, or better yet, America the Beautiful, while I go pull my car out?"

"Josh..."

"I'm really not kidding, Marion. You have a very nice singing voice. Sing. Please."

"Oh, all right. How does that part go again?"

"America, America, God shed his grace on thee,

and crown thy good with brotherhood

from sea to shining sea."

When Marion paused, Joshua yelled, "Keep singing, Marion, and for heaven's sake, don't think!"

Authors Bio:
Leni Matlin was born in NYC and attended Brooklyn College before moving to California in his twenties. For the better part of his adult life, he has worked as a musician (keyboards / vocals) and played in more bands then he can remember, while living and working in New York, the Bay area, LA, Key West, Costa Rica, Palau (Micronesia), a Caribbean cruise ship, and elsewhere.

His travels have also taken him to Thailand, Nepal, Vietnam, and India where he lived for 10 years.

Writing has now become Leni's creative focus and his works include novels, screenplays, and varied genres of short fiction. His interests range from political, social, and psychological themes to the metaphysical, spiritual and visionary. He regularly employs humor and satire to explore issues and events both contemporary and historical.

His eBooks are available at most eBook retailers including

Amazon Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/author/lenimatlin.com

and Smashwords:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/leni+matlin

A free song and video montage of the Occupy Movement is available at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pelhdn8f7qk&feature=relmfu

and a CD of original music is at
http://www.lenimatlin.bandcamp.com