Wicked Messenger by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
Download the book in PDF, ePub, Kindle for a complete version.
Chapter 1
FROM ELI TO ESPERANZA, ARIZONA, 5-10-2058
Shooting, soaring, silently screaming onward with the strength of seven zillion contentious clarifications, the little red ship passed through galaxies in less than the blink of an eye. It was a marvel of engineering brilliance and a testament to the bravery and ability of its pilot. Impressive, daring and essential as it was, in the overall scheme of things, it was just another dot in the vast cosmos; albeit a speedy one.
A moment after takeoff, in the Eli Mission Control tower a panicked Assistant Understudy Flight Navigator Alan Gotteschalk shouted; “The instrument panel isn’t working!”
Chief Matthew Forsythe replied; “Not at all. The gadgets just can’t keep up.”
“He’s out of sight and un-traceable already! The instruments have lost him!”
“Let’s just hope he makes it. Our lives depend on it.”
The scientists removed their headgear and leaned back on their chairs.
Page 2
LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT.
DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT.
DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT.
DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT.
DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT.
DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK.
He was moving too fast to detect any images. The rocket’s speed left well-seasoned meth, crack and amphetamine mixing addicts at the gate. All he saw was the temporary light of different suns and the temporary darkness as he outran their brilliance, only to immediately encounter the illumination of another. He wondered if he was truly in control or if he was at the mercy of the state-of the-art, computer assisted rocket. The words “computer-managed” came to mind, but he resisted the implication of helplessness. He briefly entertained the notion that by travelling so much faster than the speed of light, that he might be going back in time. Or forward. The fleeting thoughts passed in the insignificant space of a few LIGHT-DARK’s, as it really didn’t matter to him.
He felt a piercing head pain and saw only DARK. When his eyes again saw the LIGHT, he checked the instrument panel to see that five seconds had elapsed and saw that the ship had come to a halt.
Page 3
He exited the craft, pushed a series of buttons on his controller and grew back to full size. He immediately pocketed the rocket, before he could possibly forget its location. He looked in all directions and was perplexed to see two hoboes approaching from the west. They appeared as if they had been outside for years; shabby clothes, unshaven and skinny with baked-on grime. He thought; “Oh, ****.”
One grinned widely and called out; “Hey, man. How’d you do that trick?” The two cackled as if they were watching “The Tonight Show.”
“What trick?”
The duos funny bones were again tickled. The first one showed both of his teeth and approached with his companion right behind, holding a hunting knife. Two Teeth said; “Hey, Lem. We got a dumb ass space man.” He turned to the “spaceman” and followed with; “Look, stupid; we saw you come out of that rocket, grow to normal size and then put the thing in your pocket.”
“You guys are making a mistake.”
Two Teeth and Lem were amused. Almost Toothless said;
“Yeah, we made plenty of them. That’s how we got here. What’s your excuse?”
“Back off.”
Page 4
Two Teeth said; “Whoooo. We got a bad mother over here.
....... Gimme that UFO.” He reached for the spaceman’s pocket and Lem held his knife at chest level.
The spaceman broke away and calmly said; “Okay, I’ve had enough of this ****.” He retrieved his “silver bullet” from his pocket, pushed a button and the two hoboes were vaporized, leaving no trace of their predatory existence. He thought; “I did them a favor. They are now out of their misery.”
For a second time he looked in all directions and could not see any people; only sand and cactus. Though it wasn’t a primary concern, this pleased him as he didn’t want to have to zap an innocent bystander who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time; at least not so early in the mission. Though he was no believer in luck; portents-of-things-to-come or trends were another matter.
After a laborious half mile of walking toward the late day sun he came across an extremely weathered sign hammered into the desert floor. It had an arrow and the word “Esperanza” painted on it in aged green, the color now exceedingly light and near extinction. It appeared as if it were in recent times that someone added the word “NO” preceding “Esperanza” in running, thick black paint, its texture a sign of expected longevity. He was mildly amused with the simple graffiti-esque desecration and followed the arrow.
Page 5
Perspiration poured from him as the relentless sun had no obstructions in the stark treeless land. His light blue shirt and pants were working their way toward dark blue and he thought of water. It seemed to him that a boundless supply of infinitesimal particles lay between him and his destination. One in a million sparkled in the late day sun. There was organ pipe and prickly pear cactus to his left, giant saguaro and treacherous cholla to his right. With considerable effort he walked through the loose white sand of the Sonoran desert. Dead ahead was shimmying heat rising from the floor, distorting all images into mirages of what one wanted to see; from dancing girls to stacks of greenbacks; nature’s own Rorschach test. But he saw no sign of the promised Esperanza. This Arizona tiny hamlet was chosen by him because of its seclusion and the expected attendant lack of resident sophistication. He could view Earthling traits, as unadulterated as possible. His first experience confirmed expectations.
With each step his left foot slid to the far left and his right to the far right, swaying his center uncontrollably and leaving him thinking that he might be in danger of splitting in two. Overhead was cloud free baby blue, which didn’t give any hint of offering any stabilizing precipitation; just more of the hundred-and-ten-degree-and-climbing heat.
Page 6
His right leg totally slipped and some natural instinct allowed him to avoid becoming a wish bone. He fell face first.
His reaction wasn’t one of thanks for preserving his carcass in one piece. He was exasperated. He gritted his teeth, wiped the sand and sweat from his face and thought; “Where is this damn town?” He was accustomed to walking on sand back home, but was unpleasantly surprised at its depth and porosity on Earth.
His self-image was always that of a man possessed by a well-ordered disposition. He prided himself on that and was certain that was what enabled him to attain the position he held with its attendant “toys.” Of course his six foot four, two hundred and ten pound torso didn’t serve him poorly in any meeting rooms. But, he never considered that a factor himself.
He was convinced that his “success” was a function of his logical, well thought out approach and an occasional touch of genius, though he kept the latter thought to himself.
He thought; “But, look at me now. I’m dirty, sweating and may be headed in the wrong direction. I wish I could just go home. .................. Wherever that now is.”
He decided to slow down, hoping that his desire to get off to a fast start wasn’t getting the better of him this time. His slides in both directions lessened and he tried to convince himself that he would get there eventually, as towns don’t pick up and move. Besides, though he was not officially advised of
Page 7
this, he suspected he probably had a few years to complete his work.
He felt the same pain in his head that he experienced on ship and fell to his knees. He cupped his hands over his ears, trying to stifle the roar only he heard, and again went face first into the sand. When he got to his feet, his mind was blank, but he knew that he had to keep trudging toward the sun.
A RADICALLY CONDENSED VERSION OF ELI’S LAST THREE CENTURIES
The “spaceman’s” home of Eli would not astound an Earthling in its appearance. There were skyscraper cities, parasitic sprawling suburbs, small towns, mountains, valleys, oceans and rivers. It was only about one-tenth the size of Earth with a population of thirty million, some black, some white and some gradations in between. Segregation was virtually one hundred percent, but not for the first reason an Earthling would suspect.
The strangest things about Eli were those which cannot be gleaned with the naked eye. They possessed a cadre of laser doom machines, in varying sizes; all called a “silver bullet.” They are in the hands of the few and have never been seen by the majority. The people are imbedded with chips operated by a controller, which in most cases, intentionally, have less capability than the chipped think, being perennially set on
Page 8
“neutral.” Scientists claim that Eli is not perfectly circular due to an unexplained elongation of the North Pole. When the planet had such capability, some joked that it “spun like a top.” However, it became more of a lemon still life.
After the “Great Catastrophe,” in political correctness called “The Rotation Deficit Disorder (RDD),” happened in 98165
Eli slowly split into only two significant factions, called Sunny and Darkie. The RDD was likely caused by a massive nuclear explosion in the Northern woodland. Of course no one admitted responsibility, but everyone knew that this was the work of the overly competitive but low IQ Elis, who lived in the “frost belt.” In some sense this simplified, some might say improved, the previous political situation. Up until the big blast Eli was comprised of a confusing, spider webs’ morass of countless conflicting interests overlapping at various points. “Secret societies,” “secret” only to the beneficiaries of their power, performed duplicitous sabotage, lending confusion to all aspects of law, business and government. But, then as a result of the planet being knocked off its axis and in a state of total stability, the interests of only the “Sunnies” and the “Darkies”
survived.
The “Sunnies” were those left in perpetual sunshine due to the planet’s RDD. It continued to revolve around the sun, but like the Earth’s moon it only showed one of its sides to the
Page 9
light. The vast majority of “Sunnies” liked the resultant circumstances and referred to the new state of affairs as
“Equilibrium.” While their situation was the preferable lot, the incessant brutal sun could be devastating after a month long incandescence. On cloudy days offices let out early and the beleaguered “Sunnies” held parties celebrating their ability to be outdoors without being scorched. Their circumstances were economically enhanced by being the supplier of energy. After the nuclear disaster, the use of nuclear reactors was outlawed.
Fossil fuels were long ago depleted, so the sun became the only known source of power.
The “Darkies” lived on the obverse side of the stagnant sphere and never used the word “Equilibrium” for their situation, preferring “Stasis.” Their economic standing would have been improved with any sense of “equilibrium,” as their personal movement was in one direction; down. They couldn’t grow anything without spending fortunes on artificial lighting and had to “import” increasingly expensive energy from the “Sunny”
regions. As a consequence of the constant need for heat in their homes and businesses, the people were drained, slowly but consistently.
The rich migrated to the border lands, spending time in each region, displacing those “natives” of lesser circumstances.
The process became known as “bi-polar gentrification.”
Page 10
An Earthling might be amused, confused or incensed at the political incorrectness of the names taken by or given to the groups. After hundreds of years in the black or white and nothing in between regions the “Darkies” became entirely light skinned, some to the point of visible blue veins and the
“Sunnies” were somewhere between olive and black as a result of the incessant sun.
In the hope of attaining power countries merged following the line of demarcation drawn by the sun. “Sunny” areas became centers of technology, business and higher education, as investors considered the cheery areas more stable and energy independent. The people tended to be managers, technicians and entrepreneurs. One could simply say; “White collar and high income.” The Sunny capital city became “Acceptance.” The
“Darkie” land hosted the toxin belching factories because the land was much cheaper and for the most part, the people became laborers in them. So, the merging “Darkie” power plays resulted in no economic advantage, only a removal of the relative differences between the surviving two nations. The “Darkie”
capital city became “Repudiation.”
During the first hundred years of the “Equilibrium-Stasis”
there was considerable unrest in “Darkie” territories as some considered it “Elane” (Eli for humane) to lower energy prices.
The richer “Sunny” states’ officials, overflowing with solar
Page 11
energy, found it efficient to patiently and politely listen to the impassioned speeches, which sometimes led to new people being elected Darkie Ministers, and then buying them off. The process got simpler and simpler as the states merged.
Eventually, with only one “Sunny” state and one “Darkie” state,
“Sunny” funds were given to the “Darkie” Prime Minister, who would then re-direct them where necessary.
The realignment also had an unexpected mental effect on the people. While they were previously an emotional species; loving and fighting over issues of morality, the clear distinction of only two significant groups, essentially the “haves” and the
“have-nots,” prompted them to clearly and rationally see that the previously argued divisions of sex, race, geography, politics and religion were merely wastes of time, perpetrated by those who had an opportunity to capitalize on the conflict.
Consequently, the only criterion used to measure the “will of the people” was “who gains and who loses” from the item under consideration. They became logically unemotional and unloving, but they achieved a total peace and an end to all conflict; the stated long term goal of all except the military and “defense”
contractors. In a zero sum game there is always someone who loses and Elis in both regions were satisfied with the scapegoats.
Page 12
When any kind of economic complaint arose, almost always emanating from a “Darkie,” some “Sunny” spokesman would re-utter the phrase; “Vote with your feet.” This “wisdom” was first stated by a jovial, proud-to-display-early Alzheimer’s, “Sunny”
head of state, 50 years into the “Equilibrium-Stasis.”
Pedestrian progression became an often used vehicle for
“Darkies” to escape their economic fate. However this slowed to a virtual halt when “Darkies” saw that their albino-like skin color made them objects of derision in the joyfully dark,
“Sunny” world. It impacted them economically and resulted in many wanting to stay with their own in their inherited, murky ghetto. This cultural phenomenon virtually ensured that any
“Darkie” who voted with his feet would be alone; away from their family and not wanted by the fashionably tanned. The light-skinned “Darkies” also found that after being in the bleak night for so long they could no longer tolerate the burning sun, which resulted in the proliferation of skin cancers, often melanoma.
Even if they wandered outside fully covered and “protected” they didn’t feel comfortable with the cheery “Sunnies,” possibly a partial misperception fostered by the way “Sunnies” squinted and contorted their faces in the blinding light.
Since any kind of love (a term Eli’s found impossible to define) was out of the question, those who wished to mate or marry used only money or sexual attraction as their means of
Page 13
participation in the game. “Sunny” plastic surgeons proliferated and everyone appeared young. Many desired a competitive advantage, and took that in the form of enhanced breasts, derrieres or penises. Of course they wore clothes, but some things just stuck out.
Ineffectual “radical” groups survived at a steadily declining rate. Migrating “Darkies” found that while one of their objectives was to bring “Sunny” attention to their plight, their results were akin to preaching to a diminishing choir. The few “Liberal Sunnies” who went into the “Dark” territories were there viewed as either well-meaning, useless idiots, spies, or ones into “slumming.” Duration of stay tended to be short and declined with each passing generation.
Fifty years ago psychiatrists and psychologists stopped using their prescription medications; generally anti-depressants for adults and anti-attention deficit disorder (AADD) for the kids. They knew of the ineffectuality of the pills which they had been over-prescribing for decades of easy income. Under pressure from the reigning bodies and technicians attendant thereto, they found another lucrative “solution.” The public announcement officially said; “While there is no credible evidence that any harm was caused by the medications, (which they had to say because of the volume of lawsuits) we now find that it is more effective, both on a clinical and cost basis, to
Page 14
have everyone receive an implanted, controlling chip. This predictable, efficient device is capable of stimulating mass accord by rendering null troublesome and irrelevant sections of the impulsive and unstable brain. Used properly (a caveat included just in case) we can look forward to a world of peace and stability, resulting in steady economic progress. We know that some will object. To those we say consider this. Our most loved animals have been implanted with chips for twenty years.
Can anyone say they are worse off for it?”
The “Sunny” and “Darkie” governments mandated the mass implantation a week after those in the know purchased shares of the patent holding company. “Improvements” and “Supplemental Features” have been added to the products regularly. Different chips and controllers were given to different people, based on the government’s definition of need, tempered by the implantee’s political importance, executed by the psychiatric industry. The masses were permanently set on “neutral,” though they were unaware of that. Supplementation to the controllers was effected by military special kill squads, officially termed the Peace Corps, whose mission it was to enforce the peace by blowing away anyone who seemed likely to cause a problem. Their actions were legally “top secret” and the “Peacekeepers” were greatly feared, as with no corpse the people could never show credible evidence of their deeds, or their existence, for that matter. In some
Page 15
very small and tight circles several uninformed critics said that some “missions” had nothing to do with keeping the order and were personally based.
Today, Eli society is termed post-modern, post-industrial, post-post-modern and so post-everything that they comport themselves as if they believe that they have seen everything and feign boredom to the point of almost total inaction. A simple characterization suggests an overview of a society merely and unimaginatively having “gone postal.” The people do make an overt, conscious effort in one regard; and that is not to be typed beyond their readily discernible “Sunny” or “Darkie”
status. Eclecticism or “Neither Here Nor There (NHNT)” is the most fashionable style. Resistance to this, either purposely or in ignorance, results in the offender being termed “Retro,” or hopelessly-lost-in-the-past (no acronym.) The faux pas brings laughter and ostracism for Elis, the latter a fate sought by some subverts. A small, radical contingent of social observers who almost make a living writing for a high distribution literary monthly, which relishes playing on the avant-garde edges, have coined the term “Identity Disassociative Disorder (IDD or simplified to ID) as a counter-cultural psychological viewpoint, essentially by nefariously tagging the phenomenon with the term “disorder.”. It serves to provide light humor at fashionable, would-be-hip cocktail parties.
Page 16
As the unkind forces of the universe would have it, just a few short decades after almost finding an acceptable way of living in peace and numbness with the “RDD,” an impending
“Second,” and even more significant disorder was announced, causing a coarse change in parlance for the “Rotation Deficit Disorder” to the “First Great Catastrophe,” and rendering three hundred some odd years of commotion over it irrelevant.
ACCEPTANCE, ELI, 5-8-98476, 5-8-2058 EARTH CALENDAR
A few days prior to walking and tasting the Arizona Sonoran Desert, thirty-five year old, “Sunny,” Joshua Foucalt relaxed on his efficient, simple, metal framed, black couch with Vicky, his prior year’s acquisition taken on a trial basis. She sat motionlessly naked with her mouth and other significant orifices wide open and ready for instruction. Her breasts were measured at fifty inches making her top-heavy to the point of having some difficulty walking with her five foot four, one hundred pound body perched on tiny feet. But walking was not what she was made for.
The television news played as he sipped at his vodka-vigro cocktail; the popular VV of the strip bars and similar to a mixture of Earth's booze with a penis enabling drug. He thought that liquor and science were an unbeatable combination as Vicky looked better and better with every sip. The robotic female
Page 17
announcer stared at the monitor as the cards from which she read were behind it. With no inflection, other than an occasional squint at a misspelled word or one not in her vocabulary she said; “Scientists at the EGD (Eli Galactic Department) today announced.” She fluttered her eyes and said; “Shouldn’t that be
‘announced today.’ .................... Well, anyway. Today announced, claiming one hundred percent certainty that the sun will burn out in ten years, creating a black hole which will suck in the entire planet. Elis are expected to succumb to dismemberment of all tissue. ................ Come on, guys.
That has to be dismemberment of limbs. You can’t dismember tissue. This is really getting annoying. You’re trying to make me look stupid, but I’ll have you know ................. Never mind. This is between me and the producer. Jeez. From Metropolis, Carcass Companions rose six points after they announced that their first quarter earnings rose forty-seven percent, excluding extraordinary transactions versus the same period last year ....................”
Joshua came close to a feeling, while Vicky remained impassive, but ready. He thought rationally; “They could be wrong, but they say one hundred percent certainty. Hmnnn. Ten years. Probably could be a little more or a little less. Maybe the writers are playing with the stupid announcer. Maybe this is some subversive’s idea of a joke. I’ll have to make a call. In
Page 18
the meantime logic suggests that I get off as many times as possible.”
He put his hand behind Ready Vicky’s neck and said; “You know how much respect I have for you, right?” He didn’t wait for a reply as he pushed her open mouth onto his lap and guided her compliant head up and down.
Coming to no spurious conclusions, he thanked her in his usual halfhearted manner for the job performed. He went to the phone to call his boss; Cronos Titanby, often referred to as
“The Law,” Galaxy Director. The nickname is avoided in the presence of the President and other Department Ministers. While his knowledge of the galaxy had holes the size of a black one, he was secure in his position as the general public had bigger ones and the consortium of politicians who appointed him were happy that they got no flak because of his other worldly operation. Joshua pushed the required buttons, a lengthy process because of “The Law’s” penchant for privacy and the frequency of unwanted calls received from information seeking buzzards from the news services. They considered him a “friend” because he had the manners and discipline to act cordially.
Before he finished the twenty button rendition, he heard a knock at the door, and said; “Yeah,” in as discouraging a way as he could muster. Despite that, his next-door-apartment neighbor,
Page 19
the bachelor, Wilfred Cullen, walked in and having done that, unnecessarily announced his presence.
Joshua said; “Yeah, yeah. No kidding. Sit down and keep Vicky company. I’ve got to make this call.”
Wilfred said; “She’s got something all over her mouth.”
“So, use one of the other two possibilities. Since when are you choosy?” Joshua turned away and muttered; “No creativity whatsoever.”
Wilfred found the posterior portal to his liking and commenced activity singing a falsetto version of “Only You.”
Joshua thought that was funny and balled up the numbers.
Ring, ring, ring. He heard; “Lance’s Massage,” from a voice that sounded as if it was enjoying the same thing Vicky was experiencing.
Joshua thought that Cronos was playing, in an attempt to get rid of an unwanted call. He said; “Hi, honey. I’m looking for some action.”
“Well, umph, you called the right place, sweetie, umph.
What kind of action?”
“Depends on prices, girl.”
He, presumably so, clucked his lips audibly and said;
“Twenty for a number one with full facial, fifteen without; twenty for a number ......”
Page 20
Joshua cut him off thinking that if “The Law” wanted to avoid conversation he was defeating his own purpose and considered the possibility that he had dialed the wrong number.
He said; “This really is Lance?”
“Of course it is baby. Are you playing games with me?”
“Perish the thought.” Joshua hung up and watched Wilfred’s hairy ass pump against a bent over Vicky. It was enough to put him off sex long term, no matter how many VV’s he could consume over the next few days.
He turned away and slowly dialed the correct number. Ring, ring. “Proctologist office.”
“Law?”
“Yeah, Joshua. I was just going to call you.”
“About the end of the world?”
“No, about your overdue colonoscopy. What the hell do you think?”
“Then it’s true?”
“Some leaking *********** is going to pay.”
“No doubt he got paid already.”
“Don’t want to discuss it on a possibly bugged phone. Be in my office at 9AM tomorrow. You’ve got some work to do.”
“****.”
“Yeah, some people still give one. Beats the hell out of me.” He hung up.
Page 21
Joshua turned toward Wilfred and Vicky, who were still going at it. Now out of the mood for years, he said; “Hey, man.
Why don’t you get out of here and take her with you?”
Wilfred withdrew and turned toward Joshua as Vicky fell stiffly to the floor. Joshua put his hand over his eyes and feigned tiredness. Wilfred said; “I don’t want her. I came to find out about the news report.”
“You know as much as I do.”
“You’re supposed to be some kind of big shot in space.”
“I never said that. Why don’t you get lost and take Vicky with you.”
“You sure you don’t know anything?” He eyed Vicky lying on the floor.
“That’s the thing I’m most certain of. Take her. Have a good time. There may be less than ten years left.”
Wilfred shrugged.
Joshua said; “Come on. Take her. I’m getting another sex robot tomorrow anyway. This one’s a Darkie and moves.”
“Can I ......”
Joshua cut him off with a firm; “Hell no.”
Wilfred took Vicky and left.
Joshua returned to the television and watched the currently number one show; “Plastic Surgery Disasters.”
Page 22