IN ANOTHER DIMENSION...




Frank looked quickly right-then-left before scurrying across the street into the alley ahead. While cloaked by darkness and good amount of steam from the sewers below, he was nonetheless apprehensive about the task at hand - after all, he was usually a law abiding citizen.

He stumbled over a wino and some garbage before reaching his destination: a semi-rotted door with a sign above it which read, "PORK". Frank paused to study the wino for about thirty seconds or so, just to be sure he wasn't someones Uncle Charlie before rapping on the door in a series of short and long knocks. Sweat ran down his forehead like a barrel going down Niagara Falls. The door creaked open slightly, then slightly more - enough to let Frank's middle aged body squeeze inside.

His mind raced with thoughts like "What would his neighbors think, or GOD forbid, his own family?" while Franks eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, lit only by a 15 watt light bulb. A voice, behind the counter broke the silence -

"Were you followed?"

"I don't think so", stuttered Frank

"Do you have the cash?"

"Yes"

"Follow me into the next room" commanded the voice.

Frank slowly made his way across the room, then behind the counter to find a thick, opaque curtain. He went behind the blanket where it was completely dark. About to speak....the room was suddenly filled with light. Blinded at first, his eyes quickly adjusted and he found himself face-to-face with "THE MAN". No one knew his name, but word-of-mouth was a powerful tool and that's how Frank found this place. His jaw dropped slightly as he recognized the face before him as an old HAM buddy named Roger.

It was 2014, merely a year since the Governments radio-wave bulldog, the FCC, had changed the rules regarding Amateur Radio. Prior to 2013, all you had to do was study the theory, pay a nominal fee and take a test to operate a HAM radio station. But the FCC got greedy. Amateurs had chunks of valuable bandwidth at their disposal. Frequencies that they could sell for millions of dollars to businesses - if it were not for the small percentage of Amateur radio operators. So they rewrote the rules and made it almost impossible for the everyday man or woman to become a "HAM". Allotted frequencies were cut in size by a third, and not only did the prospective HAM have to take the test, they had to pay a fee of one thousand dollars, thus allowing them the privilege of talking on their equipment for one year. Renewals were on a yearly basis at a cost of one thousand dollars.

When this law came into effect some HAMS dropped down (or up) to 11 meters, a band the FCC had given up for dead long ago. But it got quite crowded. Others became radio "Pirates" and risked heavy fines by talking on-the-air, while the wealthier HAM's just buckled under and paid the fee. It was radio anarchy, which gave birth to an underground system of Elmers who turned to crime by making fake permits for other hams and selling them for a mere $250. This is why Frank was here. He felt shame, and anger at the same time - much like those citizens of the disbanded NRA did in 2011 when it was mandated that all guns be turned into authorities - or pay a thousand-dollar-per-gun fee. Roger looked up briefly at Frank while finishing the document -

"For an extra 150 I'll throw in a gun pass" he said, always the hopeful salesman.

Frank only had to think for a brief second and nodded. He had a 9mm under a loose board in his house that he'd like to keep close for protection -as only the criminals had guns now.

Thirty minutes later, he was whisked out of the room and back into the alley.

"You don't know me" Roger muttered, "I have friends"

Frank nodded, then carefully made his way back home, anxious to fire up that general coverage transceiver and clean his gun. He was only two blocks from his home when Frank saw the first star of the night, so he stopped for a moment to stare up to the heavens, and made his wish.

He wished he lived

"in another dimension..."

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