The End Of Scientology.</u>
David Miscavige was downstat. There was no other way to say it.
In the two years since the leak of their internal video onto the Internet, things had gone bad.
Oh sure, at the start it was under control, their legal teams had issued cease and desist notices to the websites hosting it, but then someone took notice. Some Thing, he would prefer to call it, but there was only one name to go by; Anonymous.
At first he had read up on the subject, easily dismissing them as nothing more than a bunch of jaded, basement-dwelling PTS, sure they might hack a few things, but they were mostly harmless and any serious harm would have those involved pressed with criminal charges and the publicity would help drive their reputation up a bit more.
Then he heard about their 'PROJECT CHANOLOGY'. Again he read, again he frowned, dismissing the group 'Anonymous' as nothing more than the basement dwelling geeks and nerds and PTS, but they couldn't really harm the church. They were nothing but nay-sayers and potentially criminal ones at that, the media would take the church's side and that would be that.
But once the initial immature attacks stopped, once their notices of protest started coming in, David Miscavige paused and waited. And then, on the tenth of February, he sighed as reports came in from almost every major Scientology org that Anonymous was on their doorstep, and they weren't leaving without making their presence felt.
He'd told the branches to do what they could, to follow the words of LRH and to attack, never to defend, to record everything and to discredit as many of the members of Anonymous as possible.
The police were involved, the media were involved.
Anonymous walked away from that day clean, joyful and proud, and the stats for that day from everywhere were down. The individual workers were demoralized and the public were being made aware of Anonymous' ranting. He did at least think that would be all they did, such teenagers usually gave up on a cause after a few weeks. Which is why when march came around, his world felt very stressful.
They were performing street pickets. AGAIN, and so close to LRH's birthday it had to be criminal!
David Miscavige was no longer calm, he was irritated by these Anonymous, they were no longer PTS, but definitely SPs, and he quietly sent the word down. Anonymous was Fair Game.
The problem with issuing the Fair Game policy on Anonymous was that there were no targets.
Oh sure, members of the church followed as many Anonymous as they could after each picket, they followed them for hours. But no Anonymous went back home, no Anonymous revealed their true faces, no Anonymous went individually to or from a raid for as long as it took for the people of Scientology to give up and go home. There were some people he could bring down, yes, but those were small fry, inconsequential and the moment the church applied any pressure, a hundred more picketers joined up the next time they held a protest.
And then he got wind of the government petitions, hundreds if not thousands of them all over the world to revoke the church's status, to tax them, to have it stripped of its religious status...anything and everything that could hurt the church. Anonymous was pure evil. It had to be, for they had hurt David Miscavige in the one point he felt anything. His wallet.
It meant he had to suddenly start pushing for more recruitment, it meant he had to advertise, that the public face of Scientology had to gleam with shining white teeth and happy, energetic voices..
and any single advertisement the church put out was taken by Anonymous. It was taken, it was corrupted, and it was sent back to them. If information could be said to be screaming, the doctored adverts would be. Instead of happy faces there were caricatures, instead of energetic voices there was the slow, methodical digital voice of Anonymous.
And as much as he hated those alterations, they were legal.
They were legal and they were telling people to stay away from the church of Scientology until it was an actual religion and not a cult. Until it was free, legally bound and non-profit. And even if people hated Anonymous, they listened. They listened to those teenagers from the Internet. They listened to the hundreds of pickets every damned month of the year. They listened to the REAL information brokers; the ex scientologists, the media reports, the thousands upon thousands of fliers, radio shout outs, reports, reviews...
David Miscavige hid in his room for a day, his head under a pillow and his breathing heavy.
Scientology was still legal and still had members, but any member with so much as a HINT of dissent was being dragged out of the church by their own doubt, any potential recruit had to be screened COMPLETELY just to weed out the infection of Anonymous. There was no hiding, no closing the doors, there was nothing he could do!
Over the year, David Miscavige changed. His smooth, charismatic face wrinkled, his hair grayed and thinned out, his confident, loud voice faltered and stuttered.
He couldn't even risk issuing press releases featuring celebrities, because Anonymous made sure that they were seen in the worst possible light.
And then he'd heard of the government petitions finally being heard, and the sheer weight of public opinion was going to crush them through like an unstoppable tide.
David Miscavige wept uncontrollably, sitting alone in his room and wondering how in the world it had all come to this.
Sure, the church would survive, it would be forced to be non-profit, open to all its members about the most core of its beliefs and every single one of its public actions would forever be checked.
That left no room for the celebrities, it left no room for the OT levels, the audits, the books, the wealth of data that LRH left them all. David Miscavige held his head in his hands and took a slow steady breath, waiting.
The knock on his door was expected if sudden, and he mumbled a 'come in' to whoever it was.
Their coming HERE, Mr. Miscavige!
David Miscavige needed no explaining as to what that statement meant.
WHAT!? WHEN!? HOW MANY!? HOW LONG DO WE HAVE!? CALL THE LAWYERS! THE MEDIA! EVERYTHING! his aide, however, shook his head gently.
Their already here, Mr. Miscavige... they've already brought the police, and the reporters, and all the individuals they could gather...it's like a march, or a tide..
David Miscavige sank to his knees. He wondered how far off they would be when he could hear them. It wouldn't be long, he knew, before the chants, the jeers, the laughing and the singing could be heard for miles, possibly.
There! He could hear them even now! Coming for him! Thousands of people, in their stupid white masks, their black Afros, their green face paint, their sharp suits and their soulless, dead eyes pointing right at him, even now, even through the wall... HE COULD FEEL THEM STARING AT HIM!! and.. and he could hear it.
In between the singing, the Bel-Airs, the Desu, the cries for thetans and LRH and Xenu...
they were calling him out to face them. To face them for the end.
HE WOULDN'T LET THEM DO THAT!!
David Miscavige threw himself out the fifth-story window.