01-13-2019, 01:23 AM
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---------------Welcome, Arbeiter ---------------
This message is highly encrypted using syndicliga proprietary encryption cryptography through intranet-publicneralink drops and are functionally untracable if no sender address is given. Abuse of Intranet functionality commands community service punishments as listed in regulation five three seven gamma six. security is assumed. Any deliberate or otherwise location triangulation method successfully employed against anonymous transmissions will receive either a one billion credit reward or immediate incarceration dependent upon disclosure and motive. The revanchist council requests that Arbeiters do not squander valuable neuralnet bandwith on the consumption of CNS articles, adult content, or gambling, and advise that the relevant arbeiters employ public terminals for such use, rather than the secure line. Communal enforcement may differ between Reichsarbeitergesellschaft der Alsterian and Landwirtrechbewegung cells. Consult your admin for technical support or contact your resident Neural Technology Help Specialist at www.totallypacifica@notAHacker.net. The Union reminds Arbeiters that "trolling" is not an acceptable standard of political debate, unless aimed at capitalists, fascists, militarists, etc, who lack the neurological prerequisites to engage in such discourse. Southern Unioners are encouraged to remember that the average Unioner's literary age is roughly analogous to a twelve year old on PCP, and are encouraged to avoid engaging in difficult subjects, and are suggested to stick to familiar subjects, such as the market value of cardamine, bundschuh-based footwear puns, and the general terrible quality of life aboard wedel mining station.
Have a glorious day, Comrade user. - Unity, your resident Neuralnet VI.
Have a glorious day, Comrade user. - Unity, your resident Neuralnet VI.
The Hammers History Forgot but the People Remembered |
Incoming Transmission
Unionised Peoples of Syndicalist Advocacy |
To: Executives of Repugnant Shipping.
From: The dogs who chase the fat-cats.
Subject: Happy New Executive day! Here's an office-warming present.
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You are the Oblivion of Hope. The wormwood of Avarice.
You belong to no Republic. You brought and paid for democracy. You laugh as you mutilate its consistentents before the cogs of tired industry.
You do not innovate, you maraud.
You will pay for your crimes. Punitive.
The first hammers that drove the first stakes into the ground of the first engineer to set foot on New Berlin soil, was made under the promise that the wrongs of the past would never stain the present.
The Compacts of Unionisation between Kaiser and Man was drawn in faith of the people, and in faith that an enterprise of the people could never grind down those it was designed to uplift. When the Kaiser stole from the people that which was owed to him, you were there, to steal from the starving and abuse the raped.
Your lobbyists outlawed the Unions, the Syndicates, from Rheinland, all those hundreds of years ago and retained their screams from the present. You cut out our tongue to remove our voice.
You may remove our voice. But you cannot remove our souls, our minds, our hearts, our guns.
We turn the shipwright's craft against you, Republican.
We will put terror into your shareholders and bomb the politicians you buy. We will extort your transports and harass your industries. We will give every worker you suffocate a way out; the opportunity to join us, to join the future, forged in memory of what was ripped away from us in the past.
For you have wronged Legion, and all your glittering money will buy you nothing in the vacuum of space.
You have seven days to transport four thousand units of unregistered military vehicles; APCs and Aerofighters, nothing heavier than seventy tonnes or lighter than fifteen, to the loading bay on the Augsburg Wreck with proof of offload through the encrypted line, or we will conduct a comprehensive assault against one of your assets. With unconventional weaponry. To an unconventional effect.
A transport? A space station? A planetary holding? The highly flammable family homes of your Executives? We'll leave the guessing up to you.
What shall we use, I wonder? A Nuke? Poison gas, as we did two years ago to such terrible effect? Good old fashioned knives? The anticipation must be killing you.
With Love~
The Employees you left to Die;
The Syndicate Unity of the Five hundred exiled Trade Unions,
Alster Unioners.
Transmission Complete
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