The International Brotherhood of Luddites

Before I continue any further in this biographical log, I feel it is important to note that I do so not without risk to life and limb. The reason for this is that I am a member of The International Brotherhood of Luddites, though these days I must admit that I am so more in name than in practice.

The Brotherhood (which shuns the acronym "IBL", in addition to all other acronyms) began during the Industrial Revolution as a recreational machine-smashing and billiards club composed of those select members of the idle rich whose wealth came from sources unrelated to mechanical labor. It still thrives to this very day, and its newspaper, the Anti-Golem Monthly, remains the most widely circulated publication delivered exclusively by carrier pigeon. Currently there are still only two branches in the Brotherhood---the American Branch and the Canadian Branch---due to the fact that carrier pigeons are incapable of traveling any further than one hundred miles at a stretch. A friendly rivalry exists between them, culminating each year when we all gather for the Brotherhood's spirited robot-hunting tournament.

My family has possessed a hereditary seat in the Brotherhood for many generations now, an enmity having been forged between my ancestors and machines when my thrice-great grandfather was gleefully dismembered by a McCormick reaper. My current disenchantment with the Brotherhood stems from a falling out I had with its current president, Dalton Heliophage, over a most beautiful and hirsute young woman, but that is a story for another time.

If the Brotherhood were to find out about this biographical log, or indeed about the mere fact that I now possess a computer, both my membership and my very existence would be placed in severe jeopardy. Having seen them lynch a fellow member over the use of a vending machine in the past, I could only imagine what horrors would await me for my transgressions. Yet still I feel compelled not only to write, but to write about the very forces who would do me in! Perhaps the knowledge that any Brotherhood member who dabbled enough in technology to discover these writings would in essence be writing his own death warrant if he told of the fact is enough to provide me with ample security, or perhaps the sum of my advancing years has finally freed me from the last of my tact. Whatever the cause, I now leave it to the Fates to determine the consequences. What fun that shall be!