Zenia by J. Gallagher - HTML preview

Afterword

(Note from the publisher: We are required to include this Afterword with every book we sell. This document was delivered to us from the Palace, and we have verified its provenance. The opinions expressed in the Afterword are not necessarily those of the publisher, or of the author.)

J. Gallagher has published this book without my review or approval. When it was brought to my attention, I met with representatives of his publishing house, and strongly urged that this Afterword be appended to all future editions of this book.

While we treasure freedom of expression, revisionist propaganda is poison injected into the heart of the commonwealth. Parliament has discouraged property seizures, and is suddenly obsessed with habeas corpus, now that the war has been won. But I am nothing if not sympathetic to the aspirations of my people, so for the greater good I have granted unconditional pardons to all parties who participated in the release of this book. The author is in hiding, but his fears are unfounded. Let him come to the open marketplace of ideas, and contend without worry.

As for the misrepresentations, exaggerations and outright libels contained in this book, I cannot remain silent. This purported history, while conforming to the truth in its broadest outline, is a saccharine soufflé of smarm.

I will briefly list some of the author’s more egregious failings of imagination.

My alleged extraterrestrial genesis is of course sensationalist twaddle. I do not dispute that Atticus Johnson (BitBoy, in this absurd history, and currently at large), processed SETI files as a hobby. However, as with most things in that shallow prick’s life, he focused with an iron will on the inconsequential. Truth be told, he paid scant attention to mysterious interruptions in the relentless background static of the universe.

How I wish I possessed the superhuman powers attributed to me in this book! I have been a disciple of Gertrude S. Joplin (HippyChick in Gallagher’s cartoonish depiction) for 11 years, and any familiarity I might have with the mysteries of the night sky, I owe to her alone.

I can only shake my head with sadness at the utter absurdity of those talking horses. The author of this book has trivialized the revolution, which perhaps was his intention. He mocks the sacrifices of the common women and pricks who risked their lives for the future of our children. Every bold stroke for justice is countered with cavils and derision. This thrift-shop oracle takes his place among the whiners and broken souls who litter the battlefield of honor.

He makes Trotsky look like a yes-man.

Zenia