Wackos to Obliterate: Book One (Chapter 3)
As George pulled up to the trailer, Mavis sat reading the meager output she wrote during his absence. Through her concentration, she registered the sound of the closing door of their truck and George’s voice as he greeted someone outside.
“The name’s Franklin.”
“I’m George and my wife Mavis is inside. What brings you here?”
“Oh, we’re planning to spend the weekend to nail a mallard or two if lucky.”
“Hunting good around here?”
“Conditions have been great for breeding ducks, much wetter than last year.”
“I didn’t realize that.”
“We’re up from Indianapolis and I’m sure quite a few other Hoosiers will be as well since the season is just opening.” Franklin’s voice had a relaxed depth and confident tone to it. Mavis leaned to her right to see if she could catch a glimpse of their migratory neighbor. All she could make out was the back of his head covered in a khaki cap and that he was substantially taller than her husband.
“Guess I better steer clear of the river, huh?” No doubt, the campground would be crawling with hunters the next couple of weeks.
Once inside, George walked over to Mavis still seated in front of her computer.
“How’s the writing?”
“Pretty rotten, I guess. I just can’t get into the flow. So, I take it we’re going to be deluged with gun-toting urbanites out to slay fowl?”
“You heard me talking to the guy next door, huh? I hope we don’t hear him and his buddy going at it tonight.”
“What did you find out in your meeting with Rick and the boys? I’d be happy to head south before the northern winds commence to blow.” George gave her shoulder a squeeze and turned toward the kitchenette where he proceeded to pour some coffee from the pot Mavis prepared a little earlier.
“I think we’re about done meeting. Frankly, I don’t see much point to it. All we’ve discussed could be handled electronically.” George remembered, however, as Rick explained it after he made a similar comment in the restaurant. For some reason, the corporation that was paying their salaries directed Rick to keep a very small electronic footprint. Surprisingly, a more traditional paper trail was preferable to email. Rick concluded that at least until after they were deeper in the election season, it was best for these trolls to linger under the same bridge than to scatter geographically and share their game plan over the cyber highway.
The following morning, a new troll greeted them at the Fast-Track. He was a decade younger than the youngest of the four, but put their metabolic-syndromes to shame since he was massive and sported at least a triple chin under a square-cut goatee that gave his mouth more than a vague resemblance to a vagina.
Gerold grinned. “Is Julian your real name?”
Rick frowned and looked at each in turn. “Man, you’re a paranoid bastard. I assure you he’s one of us. Who cares what his real name is. Did anyone question yours?”
“Who would name their kid Julian? You’re not a Brit, are you?” Gerold continued to keep his gaze on the new kid.
“Who the hell would name their kid Gerold? What kind of a name is that anyway?” Bill asked.
“It’s German and means ‘spear power’ or something like that.”
Rick smirked. “That little German sausage of yours wouldn’t be considered a powerful spear by anyone.”
“Do I need to remind you I sired three whippersnappers with my organ?”
“Probably had assistance from the U.S. Mail or a meter reader, don’t you think?” George couldn’t resist the opening. The new guy winked back as a smile covered his vagina mouth.
“Does ‘WallstFella’ ring a bell?”
Everyone but Rick turned to look at Julian after he said that. Rick leaned back, stretched his two arms out on to the back of the booth and smiled. It turned out that Julian was a troll of legend; rumored to have written more than 100,000 messages on websites since the birth of broadband. During the next two hours, he laid out a manifesto of sorts: a proper indoctrination to astroturfing.
“Remember that a three-prong presence is one of the most effective strategies. Once you receive your task from on high, you search for topics; then you begin writing posts to channel the argument.” He glanced quickly around the room to see whether any customers were paying attention before he continued.
“Obviously, the best way to receive the task is through internet phone since it’s extremely difficult to trace. Please remember: never send any correspondence by email or text to the Group. Generally, your contact will call you about the incident and then what orientation to take. You then channel the argument or blur the focus of the other users toward that orientation, or you go and stir their emotions. You do this by making posts that often are responses to other responses. This takes a lot of skill, which I have noticed most of you have already; especially, ‘Oraz’ there.” Julian nodded his massive head in George’s direction.
“A big point, of course, is you must hide your identity by having numerous accounts each with different online names; each must employ different writing styles. It can’t be forgotten as well that one of the best ploys is to avoid writing either too colloquially or too formally. In addition, make sure you comment, fight and dispute with yourself. In essence, have three or four of your identities communicating together. This helps to create a façade that will draw other users to your discussion.
“Overall, one of the best ways to do this is to play three different roles; namely, the leader, the follower, and the observer. Usually, the follower consists of two types. One of these has the viewpoint you want to promote but is not very articulate, while the other is able to argue quite persuasively against the first. This will draw observers. Once you get more than two other people write responses, you want to follow up with a couple of observer posts. It is around this time that the leader persona comes in with a stronger looking argument – ideally containing specific facts and details – to back up the desired viewpoint. By using this technique most of the observers will be convinced by the leader.”
Julian paused to take a drink of water. Bill raised a couple of fingers in the air.
“So, the more bi-polar you are, the more effective you can be at this job.”
“Oh yeah, there are times when I feel my personality is more than a little split.”
“Fractured is more like it,” Rick chimed in.