fiction – Page 5 – Anton Martin Smith Writer

“Frankensteined Future” ( A Poem)

July 10, 2022July 12, 2022Posted in dystopia, fiction, Future, Poems, sci-fiTagged dystopia, fiction, Poems, sci fiLeave a comment

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

His Name Was Ernie Mc Gee

He Was Born Last Century

The Last Man To Know His Name

A Computer Became His Brain

Ernie Was Smart & Wise

For He Hid Amongst The Flies

Yes Ernie Stayed Free For A While

Thanks To His Strength & Guile

“Emotions Were Stolen from Men”

Said The Strokes Of Ernie’s Pen

He Had To Write It All Down

For Those Future Men They Found

Ernie Had a Sure-Shot Plan

To Hack The Monsters Of Man

He’d Explode Its Electrodes

He’d Put It In ‘Sleep Mode’

Of Course Ernie Got Caught

By The Stormtroopers Of Thought

Ernie Was Being Digitized

When A Flash Flew Past His Eyes

When He Felt His Body Leave

His Mind Did Grow Indeed

Ernie Thought “This Aint So Bad”

So His Funeral Was Never Had

Marcel Atkins – the 22nd Century’s Rouge Brain Chip Hacker Pt 8 (Dystopian Sci Fi Novella)

June 16, 2022July 14, 2022Posted in dystopia, fiction, Future, novella, sci-fiTagged dystopia, fiction, sci fiLeave a comment

Marcel opened his door. He sat down on the magnetic lev seat on the mag-lev table – which was just a tabletop with no legs. He was worried. He pictured everyone else being worried and being at in their units thinking the same thing. Not only could he picture it, but he could feel it. He recognised the difference between the first and the second StarPeople announcement. The first announcement was a “hello”. The second one something had physically & mentally happened to everyone.

Clearly the StarPeople’s instruction of mass chanting was an effort to mass control. Everyone knew that, but this was also accepted in the same way that in a ‘crisis’ people look to leadership. During times of crisis human being regress to tribal programming this is a acute desire to be controlled by an all powerful ‘alpha force’, that will have god-like knowledge of the Crisis thus can ‘save the day’ & also protect them from future dangers. But Marcel wasn’t worried about that per se – he was worried about the uncertainty of it all. This time around it wasn’t just the usual tried & true 20th-Century-style methods of Propaganda. The takeover this time was 100% otherworldly, and so he & no one else for that matter, had the comfort of the ‘devils they knew’ – President Kincaid’s Global Authoritarian Technocracy. Everyone on Earth up till Year Zero 2051 had grown to be close to their jailors – they even had a form of fatherly love for them – a global mass delusional Stockholm Syndrome.

His gut feeling was that during the last announcement Earth’s people were being subject to the early phases of some kind of biological or nano-technological ‘infestation’, and probably both. He had remembered watching a HoloDoc about the ‘2020 Biological Warfare Project’ disaster whereby a designed pathogen had accidentally (or maybe not) escaped from a clandestine military research lab & killed 15% of the world’s population over 7 years – was the system of Pleiadean Spacecraft & their announcements heading towards something similar but infinitely more advanced? Was this the opening volleys of an Alien Nano-Tech War? The results being an enslaved class regimented population of Cyborg-Human slave mutants?

His other idea was also from watching old movies – that nano-robots on the scale of large molecules had been delivered via the air through Human’s airways, into the lungs and thus into the bloodstream. He knew this would be a perfect method as the nanotech could be easily remotely controlled & the bloodstream was a logistical ‘superhighway’ of the human being for oxygenated blood cells – or anything else dissolved in the blood – thus the nanotech bots would be able to reach any organ necessary, and do their probably alien AI tech controlled meddling.

Marcel thought more of the possibilities of the ‘Viral Nanotech War’ method’ of infestation. Via this method you could create instant heart failure. You would simply have a few million nanobots that could clump themselves together via an external to the body RF command. Then the nanobots would arrive in the Heart’s major ventricle, align themselves into a giant artificial clot & hey presto – there’s your fatal heart attack. The nanotech would then simply engage a ‘self destruct’ function so no physical record of a murder would be found. You could kill millions of people at once across the globe, & pass it off as something else so long as you ensured you acted with spy like intelligence. For example if Texas had a heat wave 100,000 murders could be achieved. Or if no adverse weather was available, you would simply cull 1 person out of 5 thousand & ensure the geographic spread was wide. Over 5 years no one would suspect a thing. Of course with any Totalitarian system, any public records regarding population loss could be fudged. If the Earth’s population was 10 Billion & 3 Billion were culled over 25 years by Nano War procedures you could get away with it quite easily – infinitely more so if you came from a highly advanced inter-galactic space faring civilization.

Marcel figured that the nanobots may be best installed initially via hitching a ride on a lab grown ‘coronavirus’ – i.e the common cold virus that was highly infectious, spread via the air, was imperceptible & had minor to imperceptible symptoms. This nano/virus hybrid method of infestation of the target population would take much of the legwork and risks out of an ‘either/or’ 100% Virus or 100% nanobot scheme and would ensure the nanobot infestation happened as quickly as possible.

Years later when time had moved on and the StarPeople had become the well-bedded-in ‘Rulers of Earth’, Marcel’s suspicions would later be confirmed to him (& a select few fellow human technicians) whose job was to manage the viral nanobot technology on behalf of Viceroys, and for the Pleiadean Governors.

But for now, in 2051 his idea was just that – a ‘conspiracy theory’ but he knew that it was not such a “wild” idea – as basic nanotech – well to be precise, crude viral nanotechnology had already been used in pre StarPeople medical trials with “interesting & encouraging results”. Marcel figured that Pres Kincaid’s & Co.’s shadowy globally aligned tech henchmen were well on their way towards plans of upgrading their control from tech to biological nanotech inspired authoritarian control by the time the StarPeople overtook operations in 2051 – the Kincaidian “world elites” had approved it among themselves via their false democratic thinktanks coupled with state owned propaganda & science. They just hadn’t figured out the technical side yet.

This realization that the StarPeople & the now vaporized Pres Kincaid’s interests had something in common hit Marcel hard – cold sweat style & in 2051 people could still sweat. Just twenty minutes ago he was euphoric & chanting with his fellow earthlings under the blue skies and under the StarPeople’s Alien craft. He chastised himself for getting caught up in the emotions of the mob. He was better than that, and he would have to be better than that in the distant future.

Now sitting alone at his unit’s table, his delusions of ‘a glorious new age’ had been firmly busted. But then he heard a nagging voice in his head – “Don’t be silly – you’re making up wild stories”. He ignored it as he knew that was a typical human response to change – be fearful of it, deny it. But that thought he may be totally wrong didn’t stop nagging at him, even as he tried to relax with a new holographic movie. Maybe he was already nanobot virally infested? He decided he’d not mention his idea or fears to anyone yet, even his best friend Andrea Liens who lived in the same complex. He’d talk to Andrea soon – via HoloChat. Andrea was into technology and was about the same age and was a sensible but uncreative type – he was a good contrast and counterweight to Marcel who was a ‘force of nature’ and thus a bit wild by definition.

Andrea and Marcel had kissed twice in 5 years, but this didn’t really mean anything and their relationship was 99.9% platonic – they used that term a lot -“We’re 99.9% Platonic” when people inevitably asked if they were ‘together’. Strangely, despite all the otherworldly events in the skies, the Holographic Communications were still ‘up’ & performing perfectly.

Marcel went back to his half completed HoloMovie, which was in its primitive phase & was projected from the light fixings – it would be a decade or two before movies were beamed via invisible lasers from any wall. The movie was a very very old ‘war movie’ called “Tobruk”. A true story set during the mid-20th Century, about the very big 20th Century World War. In this story the soon-to-win-the-war US & UK based sides lost a strategic battle to the German Empire a part of the enemy ‘Axis’ side.

Marcel loved Old War Movies – but he was happy that this StarPeople ‘Revolution’ that was just beginning, was so far bloodless -unlike the scenes of the ‘Tobruk’ HoloMovie where limbs and heads were blown off . Yes Pres Kincaid & his henchmen were incinerated on stage, but as the shoulders and body of the Kincaid system below this had wisely surrendered to the technologically superior StarPeople – there would be no immediate ‘Hot War’, yet at least. Marcel could not see how a current or future Earth Resistance Army could contemplate taking on the StarPeople on their own terms – again this would be like an ant colony taking out New York or even Beijing. Sneakiness coupled with sporadic Guerrilla Warfare tactics would be the only warfare strategy he could see as feasible way to wage War on Alien invaders.

Marcel wondered whether if perchance it was possible that a a underground Counter Revolutionary Pro-Kincaid element was forming and scheming to thwart the StarPeople’s future plans & return the Kincaid system to power. The insanity of a Pro Kincaid counter revolution was clear in Marcel mind – they were the ones that had mishandled the world so badly for 70 plus years to that point. They would have no chance of returning – so that at least for now allowed a wry smile to cross him face. At least Kincaid’s remaining lot were as of equal status as prisoners as every other human being – even if Kincaid’s lot were scarcely human.

Marcel intuitively knew that if any rebellion was to have a chance of being successful, it would require multiple decades on planning by an StarPeople insider or more specifically by a human who was acting in some capacity as a ‘trusted agent’ of the StarPeople Governorship Program. It would have to be an inside job of some description – & perhaps this was his chance to shine sometime in the distant future. As a ‘late teen’ any idea that Marcel could be a future ‘Saviour of Earth’ was well above ridiculous

As Marcel watched the ‘Tobruk’ HoloMovie, which he’d chosen to watch in “ghost mode” instead of “action mode”- a giant Axis German Tank suddenly exploded. Even though he was only in “Ghost Mode” this still startled his senses. This surprise soon wore off and Marcel continued his foremost thinking about the now truly startling ‘real world’, which was naturally dominating his thinking vs the ‘Tobruk’ HoloMovie. He envied the simple strategies that worked in those days.

Marcel figured that whatever the case, he’d have to ‘toe-the-line’ and see how things play out with the “new guys”- even if the ‘new guys’ were literally Aliens from another planet, of which no one knew of their true motivations. This was the only option on the table – for now and for the foreseeable future. To lie low and gather information, then squirrel it away.

Marcel’s last thoughts on the matter before concentrating fully on his planned distraction of “Tobruk” was were these: surely a chance all this might actually be for good’. Perhaps this will be the first time Earth’s People all end up in a genuine Utopia. Maybe just Maybe this was the only way Humans could reach Utopia – by being taken over by insanely intelligent Aliens that knew it all, and had seen it all. He imagined Andrea’s realpolitik response to this – “Dreams are free Marcel – absolute power corrupts – absolutely”.

Marcel set the HoloAlarm for 2 hrs time, for when ‘Tobruk’ was over when he’d “Call Andrea Liens”. Before he instructed the HoloMovie to play – he popped that giant pimple on his nose via the “Show HoloMirror” verbal command.

End of Part 8…..Part 9 will be available shortly….in the near future…...

Published by Martin Anton Smith creations ltd (NZ) © All Rights reserved. No Commercial Use or Commercial Public Broadcast Allowed Without Written Permission. Contact via martinantonsmith@gmail.com

“Marcel Atkins – The 22nd Century’s Rogue Brain Chip Hacker” (A Dystopian Sci Fi Novella). Pt 7

May 1, 2022May 1, 2022Posted in fiction, Future, novella, sci-fiTagged dystopia, fiction, sci fiLeave a comment

In “Year Zero” in 2051, the “StarPeople” had done away with the Earth’s existing Global Order, and had given a message from the thousands of grid networked spaceships to the Earths masses. The mood of elation from the Earths masses was typically kneejerk from a dispirited and population. . . they had been so mentally abused that they would welcome any axe murderer as their new master. Yes, there would normally be “Stockholm Syndrome” effect – but the StarPeople were too smart to let that happen. What they knew they had to do was to start on the engineering problem that was erasing the masses old ways and doubling down on total obedient personalities, all ultimately governed by Aurora the AI Supercomputer that was millennia better than any technology the Earth had ever seen. The current state of the world, as far as general social cohesiveness was concerned was still a total mess. The world in 2051 was a patchwork quilt of barbarism, poverty, gated elitism and general mistrust. Under the old global leaders, the years since 1980 had been a huge and constant decline, with the rise of an acutely greedy aristocracy who lived in excess, and for their constant crimes they had a well-designed immunity from prosecution. That was why the StarPeople had come, as the “Galactic Charter of Care” articles had finally been breached to the point where the StarePeople were obligated to gain Governorship of Earth and “Turn it Around”. The StarPeople were the ultimate “Change Agents”.

The first global message, was simply an announcement that Earth’s masses had been freed from Slavery by Alien Saviours from the Pleiades and that there was further instruction to come in the following days. After the delivering the first message, the StarPeople were wise enough to allow 72 hrs for the Earths masses to “Party On Down”. The Earth people did this from New York to Antwerp to Paris to Sydney to Dunedin to Timbuctoo. With the fall of the law and governance structure, this was a wild affair with a number of casualties. Alcohol, which was a wildly popular “party drug” before the 2030’s was suddenly being broken out from hidden reserves, most of which was Russian WW2 era stockpiled Vodka – of which there was huge bunkers fill of the stuff. The Vodka became known as “Freedom Shots”. Marcel joined in of course and he especially loved how retro everything seemed – in reminded him of the 2010-2020 era where freedom to laugh and party was still a thing. The Giant worldwide party was dubbed as he “Zero Point Party”. During the tail end of the Party, all the partygoers noticed a giant count down timer in the skies it was written in ball lightning and it said “Next Message in 12: 00:00 hrs 11:59:59 hrs & so on. Eventually the countdown went into the last 10 seconds and everyone joined in, loudly but also quite wearily from all the partying. at 00:00:00 the next message begun:

“People of Earth – Congratulations on realising the Pleiadean Governorship of Earth into the near future looks bright and will cause no distress. We have marvelled at your joyful dances and tribalist rites of passage and celebrations. We now enter a new phase for the messages, away from welcoming and towards instruction. If you follow the instruction diligently, you will soon see the wonders of the new world we are designing for you. The new future requires all earth people to achieve a unity, a oneness of mind – a “hive mind state”. Once this occurs, you will find yourself endowed with new powers of mind and body, and the shackles of the old-world mentality will be broken. This process is non-invasive and will happen remotely, with no discomfort and certainly no pain. There will appear to be flashes of light, which are safe and simply the process working as it can only do. This process has been used by the galactic Federation for millions of Earth years on all the various living subjects from all over the Cosmos who found themselves led by a few tyrannical & barbarian & greed obsessed Aristocracies. However, those barbarian former rulers such as President Kinkaid are now over. We have even expunged all their ashes from the Earth, not a single former President Kinkaid Carbon atom exists on your planet – or any of his crony’s elements for that matter. We have fed their ashes into our mini black hole incinerators. Nothing of your former jailors exists, other than the memory of them, and we will also take care of your worst memories. The “Hive Mind” we require for Earth requires each individual to unite via sound. You will repeat a series of “Chants” collectively until advised the session is over. Simply mimic the sound you hear in T minus 10- 9 – 8 -7-6-5-4-3-2-1 -0″ ……Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh”

The loud hum noise ” Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh” came from the network of spaceships…everyone on earth, obediently hummed back in reply ” Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh”….and Marcel was no different. Marcel hummed as loudly and calmly as he could, along with the other former party -goers who were around him. It was spectacular to hear the Billions of voices also Humm in the ambient atmosphere. . it was surreal, invigorating and totally unique in human history. Never before had the world been connected globally in chanting in unison. The pause between each human ” Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh” and the Spaceship’s was about 3 seconds, so the continued string sounded as follows ” Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh” …(one two three) ” …” Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh” …(one two three) ” Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh”

After about 7 minutes of the chant and accompanying background echoes of the whole earth choir, people began to experience the “electric flashes” in their vision. The flashes were like an enhanced mix between of a child’s kaleidoscope and forked lighting from an electric storm. When Marcel saw these flashes, he thought to himself “wow! it’s like an old 1970’s acid trip I read about once”. By the final and 100th Chant, Marcel was feeling exceedingly euphoric, which of course he had never had the chance to feel, given the fact he had lived in such repressive times since birth. After the 100th Chant finished, the message from the craft to the Earth’s masses was simply “Please return to your quarters – just as you normally would we will see you again for the next session”. Marcel’s euphoria was still kicking and he couldn’t help but hold his hands out toward the spaceships in an act of worship. He couldn’t help himself, it’s as if an instruction had been implanted in his brain to do so. After a minute or so the euphoria simply disappeared entirely, and he walked home, in his mind he felt almost bifurcated – half worried and half in total faith. . .it was very strange. He then felt one leg after the other move him along the path back towards his home, again seemingly being half remotely controlled……

…………end of pt 7………pt 8 is coming very soon… in the near future…..

“The Fourth Principle” (A Short Story)

April 28, 2022May 1, 2022Posted in dystopia, fiction, short story, warTagged dystopia, fiction, short storyLeave a comment

A Short Story by Martin Anton Smith

Neoliberalism was designed to destroy society over a 50-year time cycle. The key to this was the ruination of manufacturing/laboring jobs held by the poor & working-classes. With the “off shoring” of these jobs, the poor & working class simply turned to organised crime to fund themselves.

The rest of the more privileged population by this time were so stupid that they believed the cries of the Government-owned or Government-bribed Media, who in their broadcasts treated the constant violent crimewaves as “aberrations”. It was important to have such brainwashing so that the destruction of society was frictionless.

As the 50th year and final year approached in 2025, the unreported crime, anarchy & disarray had caused the general population collapse to a 1 million strong geo-scattered hunter and gatherer population. Yet of course this particular country – New Zealand had a ‘gated elite’ population of 100,000 which had never been affected. But of course, the same thing was happening everywhere else. This was indeed a Global happening. These few thousand elites with big plans would eventually re-label themselves the ‘Al-ito-zan’

Jan 1st 2026 was deemed ‘Year Zero’. ‘The Al-ito-zan would hold celebrations much akin to a disorganised versions of official ‘Satanist Rituals’. The ‘Al-ito-zan’ were now able to have free sovereign reign over the land. They declared a ‘New State’ – one that was effectively a new Techno Autocratic Monarchy, similar in some ways to Tsarist Russia, but seemingly simpler and less bureaucratic. They had won their war & the horrible poor & working-classes were gone.

Of course, there was something left over from the now very dead 4 million poor & working classes – their Blood. The Al-ito-zan were smart enough to collect the blood from the dead, irradiate it & store it in giant refrigerators. This was their Elixir, their health drink – their ‘Toasting Drop’.

They called this tasty drop “Zero-ade” or more colloquially “Serf-ade”. They loved the texture, the saltiness, the viscosity, the dopamine high that came shortly after drinking. Some Al-ito-zan used a spritzer, some mixed it with fine Central Otago Pinon Noir. Some boiled it down.

The Al-ito-zan partied away the Whole of Year Zero. They had now an untrammeled Elitist society, with no requirement that any action be “For the benefit of NZ as whole”; there was no organised Police or Parliament or Laws or any connection to the old Westminster based system.

In the new Al-ito-zan system from Year Zero – & New Zealand was just one of many ‘Satellite Provinces’ worldwide – there were only 3 Prime Principles:

Honour the Prime Al-ito-zan King or Queen (or King and Queen)

2. Never Kill a Fellow Al-ito-zan

3. The Remaining Vanquished are to be left alone as beasts to wander freely.

In year 1 the Partying had subsided. The Al-ito-zan were now purposefully avoiding mentioning the debauchery they all partook in during the entire Year Zero – very similar to the immediate week after “Office Xmas parties” were prior to the 2020s. This was for good reason as the parties in year Zero were audacious affairs fuelled from drug highs from gallon upon gallon of fresh poorly brewed SerfWine. Simply put, ‘Year Zero’ was akin to the 1969 Summer of Love multiplied by 10. Now it was Year 1, people knew that free year was over, and they had to now determine what exactly was ‘normal’ behaviour in their new elitist paradise. That year was defined by what is known as ‘a social holding pattern’.

In this environment general life was punctuated with countless hours filled by philosophical, and sociological conversation and arguments. These often-heated conversing’s, happened among the guests at dinner parties and between friends mostly in evenings. SerfWine and firm opinions would flow aplenty at these often-informal gatherings at the dining rooms and firesides of the Al-ito-zan.

“Walter, I think we are lucky to be where we are, yes – don’t get me wrong. We have at base the society we always wanted, no more riff raff and no need to pretend that we care about natures abominations. But…

“But….But what Nicholas, come on be frank, remember no one’s listening anymore, spit it out son”

“Well, don’t you think there’s something missing in the “Three Principles”?

“Well, the idea is to avoid “Laws” and things like “Police, Judges and Lawyers” , but still have a fatherly guiding hand so to speak”

“Yes, I understand that but only THREE, isn’t that insane to you Walter?

“How do you mean Nicholas? Do you think there’s something missing or some of them are wrong?

“Both”

“Come on genius, explain yourself” (Walter takes a long slug of SerfWine)

“Ok Walter lets start with what’s wrong, well not exactly wrong but incomplete. Point one says “Honour the Prime Al-ito-zan King or Queen” but it doesn’t give any detail on what that means.”

“yes, that’s a fair assessment, but there’s reasons for everything, I mean we don’t have the details”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit strange? To have total ambiguity and no details AT ALL on what “Honour the King or Queen” means – I mean it’s rank insanity to my mind Walter, surely you agree?”

“Nicholas, don’t you see we don’t need details – in this society we TRUST the King or Queen, and we have no reason yet to question them – I mean the changeover to paradise has been perfect – not a single Al-ito-zan died! Why the mistrust?”

“Walter, doesn’t the fact we haven’t even been told whether we either have a King OR a Queen or Both yet ring alarm bells?”

“Well, we don’t really need to know do we? I mean the point is to obey a prime figure who we know represents us perfectly”

“I agree with you 99% on that but It doesn’t quite sit well with me Walter, call it a ‘gut feeling'”.

“Nicholas, you sound like a man from the 1920’s, don’t expect perfection yet, blimey it’s only one month through year one!”

“Well, that’s just one of my concerns – let me continue”

Walter tells Nicholas to “wait a second” casually and slugs back the last of his SerfWine. He gets the bottle only a meter away sitting on the mantlepiece. It sits above the now slightly less roaring fire. The bottle is still half full and he pours it quickly for himself and then tops Nicolas up.

“Isn’t this SerfWine great Nick? Look at the boy, you can tell he was going to taste delicious!”

Nicholas looks at the back label Walter shows him, it shows a picture of the late teenage boy who was eliminated for the crime of being working class poor. he was a strapping lad, and the photo was taken before he knew his fate, so he had a genuine smile. Nicholas wasn’t usually emotional, and he had hated them like everyone – but he felt slightly off. he shrugged in off and continued his argument.

“Ok well next problem is with point 2 “Never Kill a Fellow Al-ito-zan ”

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you disagree with that”

“No of course not, but ask yourself this – how would anyone know if I was to say stab you and burn you in that fire, I mean there is no Laws, Police or Judiciary”

“People know I exist; they’d know something was up”

“But the point Walter is this: No one would know what to do or what would happen – there is no guidelines given to us! Isn’t it weird that I’m trusted 100% to never hurt you or another fellow Al-ito-zan?”

“Hmmm, yes I see your point, but we have paradise now and no one would ever need to hurt anyone, I mean we have all the resources and land to ourselves”

“For now we do, but what about in 100 years Walter – things can change for the worse can’t they, I mean look at History look at the year 1929?”

“That was a Stock Market Crash, wasn’t it? Then that spurned The Great Depression and World War 2. Yes Yes, but Nicholas that was well before the change, don’t use those dark ages as your personal Chrystal-Ball! Thats insanity, everything’s well now, all the ducks are in a row!”

“Is it Walter, I’m not 100% sure”

“Apparently you are 99% sure but I’m starting to think you’ve exaggerated; you sound almost like a -dare I say it – a counter revolutionary!”

“You are dramatic, must be a hangover from our drama class days at school – King Lear, wasn’t it?

“Yes, how embarrassing that performance was, oh well at least I was the king! You were the Fool if I remember correctly – are you reprising your role now Nick?”

“Touché, touché, very funny – now let me go to Point Three”

“Oh no, there’s more is there”

“Afraid so son, and I’ve barely started, I’ve got to talk about the missing points yet!”

Walter groans, takes a hearty slug and eyes the next bottle of SerfWine in the lattice shaped wine holder on the wall.

“Ok point three “The Remaining Vanquished are to be left alone as beasts to wander freely” why did they leave the last fifth to survive? Don’t you think that’s a bit odd? I mean it doesn’t make sense? We don’t need them for SerfWine, we have huge stocks from the cull and perfect blood replicators after that.”

“Yes we do, but I suppose the King or Queen wanted to show benevolence – you know kindness”

“Walter, you are my best friend, we’ve known each other for 35 years as school mates, but I have to tell you when you say that you sound like you still are a schoolboy”

“Pish Posh! Ok assuming you have reasons to doubt, pray tell me why they are still here then Nick – come on “The Fool”.

Walter was now quite red in the face, having finished his wine at twice the rate as Nicholas, and already halfway through the next bottle.

“Well, I think it might explain the Trust element of the principles – or should I say explain it away“

“Go on Fool, keep the joke going”

“Well don’t you think 1 million freely roaming hardy battle hardened Serfs would be perfect spies? This would explain that the TRUST that is implied but unworkable is actually just a ruse. The true system – one that IS workable is in place and consists of a surveillance state – the very souls who are the remainder of the Vanquished Serfs!”

“Oh Nicolas, don’t embarrass yourself! You sound like an anti-moon landing kook from 1980’s! Why would we go to all the trouble of a free society for us Al-ito-zan, and then add a layer of surveillance from the very people we want nothing to do with other than to drink their blood! PERPOSTEROUS”

“Walter, have you heard that old saying “eliminate the impossible and what’s left must be the truth”

“I’m opening another bottle, and then we change the subject to something fun – do you think the parties of last year will return?”

“Ok but you must admit my theory explains all the inconsistencies in the three points – We don’t need to know there’s a King or Queen or a King & Queen because there isn’t one – there is only a hidden surveillance state. We will never kill a fellow Al-ito-zan, because they will kill us long before that via the roaming secret police/execution squad the ones that by necessity are roaming ‘totally free’ and untrammeled – ex Serfs”

“That’s quite enough Nicholas!”

Walter is now visibly angry, his face beet red and sweat is dripping off his nose. He throws his dreg filled glass into the now embers-only fireplace, the crash sound echoes and a few bits of glass bounce back at their feet. Being well bred both Walter and Nicholas allow the emotion to suddenly dissipate.

“Walter, sorry I went to far, I was just fooling around, of course you are right I pushed things to far – as always! I don’t really believe that stuff, I just love to play contrarian – you know that better than anyone Walter”

“Okay Okay Nick, sorry I don’t know what came over me”

“It was just too much blood, that’s the blood talking – that batch of SerfWine is too potent, I’ll complain to the vendor – he’s a bit shonky even if he is well bred.”

“Yes, do that, do that – I’m ok now I’ll just sip some water, can you get me some”

“Yes of course Walter – take a seat for a moment”.

Nicholas went down the hallway, in the hallway he past all of his 20th century history-based posters, WW1 posters of trench warfare, another of the Spanish flu, one of the Moon landings another of the Berlin Wall falling.

He thought to himself that he better keep his ideas to himself – no one must know of his spouting off what could be twisted as ‘counter revolutionary thought’ because this would certainly break Principal 1 – “Honour the King Or Queen Or The King & Queen”. But then he laughed as he heard himself think. He suddenly became himself again – lacking in confidence. He felt stupid for thinking they were all being deceived by some “hidden surveillance state”. He was just an idiot, like he had always been, and that’s what he told himself now.

He suddenly started to dread going back to see Walter. He had more than embarrassed himself. His mind started to race “what if Walter tells Stacey about what I said? What if she tells her nosey gossipy wife, then she her friends, then them their husbands and then everyone else? But then he told himself he might be ok as there probably is no police or reporting system anyway – the worst he’d be is deeply embarrassed for a week or two. But then he thought “what if I’m right and there is a hidden surveillance state”. He was pretty sure if there was, it was still in its infancy and imperfect – I mean he had seen no roaming ‘Vanquished Serfs’ in his country estate.

He had to make a call – if he was right, and did nothing Walter would blab, the story would grow and he would almost certainly be found out. From his love of 20th century History and Sci-fi he guessed that Surveillance State – if it was real would torture or imprison him. Or perhaps, he’d be killed and replaced with a duplicate advanced AI robot and no one would realise he was gone. He decided even though he couldn’t take that chance – he would have to kill Walter by bashing his head with the kitchen pestle and he can simply drag his body and throw his body in the artificial dam near his house – there are many big rocks that litter the place it would look like he tripped hit his head, blacked out and fell in the water unconscious and drowned. In killing Walter – a fellow Al-ito-zan, he would of course break ‘Principle 2’. But no one would know it, so who cares?. Despite lacking general confidence Nicholas was always forthright when he had a good systematic plan.

Tears welled up as it sunk in what he was to do. He would miss Walter dearly as his only ‘best friend’, his old school friend. No other adults over 30 still had ‘best friends’ but Nicholas and Walter were still best friends. He had flashbacks of all the good times he and Walter had had, the bike rides, the swimming, both being bullied nerds in high school, the heavy drinking as they were coming of age at university.

He grabbed the pestle from by the sink, filled Walter’s glass and began to walk back. he’d give Walter the drink and spin some story about the pestle’s potential rareness and not being able to read the makers mark on the bottom of the pestle. He’d simply ask Walter to read it and then as Walter leaned in, he would do the business and kill him with a few lusty firm blows. As he was walking down the hallway suddenly Walter was already there, with his hand behind his back. Nicholas was startled and jolted backwards, dropping the pestle and water and in so smashing the glass on the old hardwood wooden floorboards.

“Oh, I was waiting a while for the water so I thought I’d see what was keeping you”

“Walter, boy you scared me! Sorry the tap has been playing up…now I’ve dropped your water”

“Oh don’t worry spilt milk or spilt water still doesn’t make me cry! Let me help you clean it up”

“Haha sure, sure thing Walt”

Nicholas’s plan was now disrupted, and not being a seasoned killer and only ever having been the one being beaten up versus dishing it out, he decided he’d abandoned his plan to kill Walter entirely. Walter was coming towards him now; he would just act naturally and go with the flow. He lent down and started picking up the pieces of glass and at the same time surreptitiously pushed the pestle out of sight with his foot. Walter was now right next to Nicholas both crouching down heads perhaps a foot apart. He bent down, he first picked up by far the largest shard of glass, which was triangular with a pen knife shape and still connected to the glasses thick base.

Nicholas was almost finished the sentence “Walter, I’m such a clumsy idiot” when Walter suddenly moved swiftly and lacerated Nicholas’s neck from ear to ear. In the same motion he turned Nicholas’s body so that the blood spurts would hit the wall and not land on him or in particular his face. It almost seemed Walter had done this many times before.

Nicholas slumped back, and felt his life slowly drain away with the large pool of blood now trickling from him. With the last seconds of life, he looked at Walter. Walter stood up and said “You were right to question the Three Principles Nicholas, this is why they told me to keep an eye on you. You were mostly correct in your analysis”. Walter then slowly transformed before Nicolas and his quickly dying body. In a period of no more than three seconds Walters ‘wealthy man’s clothes’ changed to Vanquished Serf like rags, and his face morphed to a weather-beaten and unrecognisable dirty face. He then smelt an unfamiliar stale sweat. In Nicolas’s last moments he saw the man’s lips move. As his vision and hearing slowly faded out, the man said coldly, loudly and robotically:

“Principle 4: On behalf of the King Or Queen, an Authorised Vanquished Serf, can be instructed to kill an Al-ito-zan if and only if, said Al-ito-zan transgresses or intends to transgress one some or all of Principles One, Two or Three. Principle 4 is only advised via a need-to-know basis.”

Podcast Transcript: “Marcel Atkins – The 22nd Century’s Rogue Brain Chip Hacker” Pt7 (A Sci-Fi Dystopian Novella)

April 16, 2022May 22, 2022Posted in fiction, Future, novella, sci-fi, UncategorizedTagged dystopia, fiction, sci fiLeave a comment

Welcome to The Baby wants It’s Bottle Poetry Inc. Podcast, a creative project by Martin Anton Smith a NZ based creative. In this episode, I read part seven of my Dystopian Sci Fi Novella, “Marcel Atkins – The 22nd Century’s Rogue Brain Chip Hacker” Lets begin!

In “Year Zero” in 2051, the “StarPeople” had done away with the Earth’s existing Global Order, and had given a message from the thousands of grid networked spaceships to the billions of onlooking Earthlings. The mood of elation from the Earths masses was a typically kneejerk reaction you would expect from a dispirited population.

They had been so mentally abused for hundreds (if not thousands) of years – they would have welcomed any old ‘axe murderer’ as their new masters. Yes, there would normally be “Stockholm Syndrome” effect – whereby the Earthlings would deify their old jailors – but the StarPeople were too smart to gamble that that would happen. What they knew they had to do was to start on the engineering problem that was erasing the Earth’s citizens and their ‘old ways’. They had to ensure the new future of totalised obedient personalities, all ultimately governed by ‘Aurora the AI Supercomputer’.

The current state of the world, as far as general social cohesiveness was concerned was still a total mess. The world in 2051 was a patchwork quilt of barbarism, poverty, gated elitism and general mistrust. Under the old global leaders, the years since 1980 had been a huge and precipitous decline. It was characterised by the rise of an acutely greedy aristocracy who lived in excess, and for their constant crimes they had a well-designed immunity from prosecution – fascist control of the worlds so called ‘Democracies’ via the smokescreen of ‘Public health & Wellbeing’ and an excellent system of corruption of elected and government officials via privately managed 3rd Party Global Organisations.

That was why the StarPeople had come, as the “Galactic Charter of Care” articles had finally been breached to the point where the StarPeople were obligated to gain Governorship of Earth and “Turn it Around”. The StarPeople were the ultimate “Cosmic Change Agents”.

The first global message, was simply an announcement that Earth’s citizenry had been freed from abject slavery and poverty by Alien Saviours from the Pleiades; and that there was further instruction to come shortly.

After the delivering the first message, the StarPeople were wise enough to allow 72 hrs for the Earths masses to “Party on Down”. The Earth people did this from New York to Antwerp to Paris to Sydney to Dunedin to Timbuctoo. With the fall of the fascist control structure, this was a wild affair with a number of casualties. Alcohol, which was a wildly popular “party drug” before the 2030’s was suddenly being broken out from hidden reserves, most of which was Russian stockpiled Vodka from the Ukraine War era – of which there was thousands of huge bunkers full of the stuff.

The Vodka became known as “Freedom Shots”. Marcel joined in of course and he especially loved how retro everything seemed – in reminded him of the 2010-2020 era where freedom to laugh and party was ‘still a thing’.

The Giant worldwide party was dubbed as he “Zero Point Party”, or Zepp for short. During the tail end of the Party, all the partygoers noticed a giant count down timer form slowly in the skies. The words were written in suspended ‘ball lightning’ resembling a giant 1950’s style neon sign. It read “Next Message in 12: 00:00 hrs 11:59:59 hrs & soon as it counted down in stopwatch fashion. This added to the Global Party atmosphere by adding an extra layer of trepidation – what would happen at time zero? Eventually the countdown went into the last 10 seconds and everyone joined in, loudly but also quite wearily from all the partying. At 00:00:00 the next message begun boomingly from the skies:

“People of Earth – Congratulations on realising the Pleiadean Governorship of Earth into the near future looks bright and will cause no distress. We have marvelled at your joyful dances and tribalist rites of passage and celebrations. We now enter a new phase for our globally broadcasted messages. We will move away from welcoming and towards instruction. If you follow the instruction diligently, you will soon see the wonders of the new world we are designing for you. The new future requires all earth people to achieve a unity, a oneness of mind – a “hive mind state”. Once this occurs, you will find yourself endowed with new powers of mind and body, and the shackles of the old-world mentality will be broken. This process is non-invasive and will happen remotely, with no discomfort and certainly no pain. There will appear to be flashes of light, which are safe and simply the process working as it can only do. This process has been used by the galactic Federation for millions of Earth years on all the various living subjects from all over the Cosmos. Those were similar beings who found themselves falsely led by a few tyrannical, barbarian & greed obsessed Aristocracies. Know that the times of your own barbarian former rulers – President Kinkaid and co are now forever over. We have even expunged all their ashes from the Earth, not a single former President Kinkaid Carbon atom exists on your planet – or any of his crony’s elements for that matter. We have fed their ashes into our Pleiadean mini black hole incinerators. Nothing of your former jailors exists, other than the memory of them, and we will also take care of your worst memories. The “Hive Mind” we require for Earth’s regeneration requires each individual to unite collectively via sound. You will repeat a series of “Chants” collectively until advised the session is over. Simply mimic the sound Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh in T minus 10- 9 – 8 -7-6-5-4-3-2-1 -0″ …..

The loud hum noise ” Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh” came from the network of spaceships…everyone on earth, obediently replied back in kind. Marcel as a late teenager was overcome with a feeling of power. He vocalised as loudly and calmly as he could, along with the other thousands of ‘party – goers’ who were around him. It was spectacular to hear the Billions of voices also Humm in the ambient atmosphere. .. it was surreal, invigorating and totally unique in human history. Never before had the world’s peoples been connected psychically in such a way. The pause between each human ” Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh” and the StarPeople’s Spaceships was about 3 seconds, so the continued string sounded as follows ” Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh” …(one two three) ” …” Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh” …(one two three) ” Oh – Wee – Oh, We Oooh – Oh”

After the 100th Chant finished, the message from the craft to the Earth’s masses was simply “Please return to your quarters – just as you normally would. We will see you again for the next session”. Marcel’s euphoria was still kicking and he couldn’t help but hold his hands out toward the spaceships in an act of worship. He couldn’t help himself, it’s as if an instruction had been implanted in his brain to do so. After a minute or so the euphoria simply disappeared entirely, and he walked home, in his mind he felt almost bifurcated – half worried and half in total faith. . .it was very strange. He then felt one leg after the other move him along the path back towards his home, again seemingly being half remotely controlled. Marcel knew the Pleiadeans had done much more than just hold a sing along.

…………end of pt 7………pt 8 is coming very soon… in the near future…..

Thankyou for listening to the Baby Wants It’s Bottle Poetry Inc. Podcast, A creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. This podcast is available on Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts from.

Published by Martin Anton Smith creations ltd (NZ) © All Rights reserved. No Commercial Use or Commercial Public Broadcast Allowed Without Written Permission. Non Commercial/Educational Broadcast is Freely Encouraged.

“Soldier Shares in WW3″ (A Poem)

March 12, 2022May 1, 2022Posted in fiction, Poems, politics, Prose, Soldiers, warTagged dystopia, fiction, Money, Poems, Stock-Trading, warLeave a comment

By Martin Anton Smith Feb 12 2022

At Forty-Three, I Got The Nod,

From Couch Blob to World War Three.

Now I’m Half Starving And almost Dead!

But I Haven’t Even Left Yet!

Now There’s a Constant Ringing In My Head.

Coz That Bullet Came From ‘Direction Z’.

But Don’t Despair, My Fellow Bean,

If The War Continues ’til After Tea,

My Share’s Go up 2000 per cent!

Lo and Behold! I’ll Upgrade From The Trench,

To A Raincoat – And Then,

To a Glamorous, High Ceiling Tent!

But If The Enemy Surrenders,

This Great War Will End,

And My Share’s Will Tank!

I’ll Be Skint, Flat Broke – Outa Bread!

But Never-mind Dear Chap,

I Messaged The Other Side,

And Asked Them Politely,

To Keep Up the Fighting.

So Not To Sell Us Short!

For In The Madness of 21st Century War,

Having No Money or Stocks,

Is Universally Agreed Upon As

a Fate Far Worse Than Death.

P.s. The Glorious Soldier Outlasted The War,

And Basks In the Sun Outside His Mansion,

In the Cayman Islands.

And Now Writes His Glorius Memoirs,

Of Trading Stocks,

Amid Whizzing Bullets,

Going Past His Ears,

In the Trenches,

On A “Smartphone”

At “The Front”.

“ZEN AND THE ART OF NOT MAKING NUKES” (A Poem)

March 4, 2022May 1, 2022Posted in dystopia, fiction, Nuclear, Poems, social commentaryTagged Armageddon, Forgiveness, Nuclear Warfare, PoemsLeave a comment

She Did What She Did,

Because She Was Who She Was.

If She Had Done Something Different,

She Would Not Have Been Herself.

She Would Have Been Someone Else.

And The Same Goes For Me.

This Logic Is Robust!

And Armed With This Philosophical Toolkit,

You Can Forgive Histories Worst Tyrant,

Your Parents,

Your Siblings,

Old Schoolmates,

Your Boss & Workmates,

Your Ex,

And Maybe, Just Maybe –

Yourself!

And Anyway,

Learning How To Make Small Tactical Nuclear Weapons,

In Your Parent’s Basement,

Is far Too Costly,

Intellectually Difficult,

Time Consuming,

Personal Injury Causing,

Requires Too Many International Import Licences,

And Is Impossible To Do Without Arousing Suspicion

From The Neighbours,

Who Will Undoubtedly Soon Rat You Out To The Cops.

Your Mother Of Course,

Will Be None-The-Wiser.

So Don’t Go Down That Track.

Don’t Be This Headline:

“Bitter & Twisted Middle Age Loser Arrested After Trying To Build Atomic Bomb In Their Mum’s Basement – Neighbour Tipped Off Police After A Series Of Loud Bangs & Flashes”

Just Accept:

“It Is What It Is” –

Glib But Perfectly Wise & Certainly True.

And Anyway,

Nuclear Armageddon Will Well Take Care Of Itself,

And In it’s Own Way,

Without Your Amateurish Involvement.

“Future’s Friend” ( A Poem)

February 4, 2022May 1, 2022Posted in dystopia, fiction, philosophy, podcast, Poems, warTagged dystopia, Poems, sci fiLeave a comment

The Century Begun

And Started Off Bad.

The False Flag Wars,

The Mad Scientists,

The Men In Suits,

Did Stop the Earth.

The Computers Rose,

And Took the World.

******************************************

It Came From Tomorrow,

It Came From Nothingness.

It Wore No Cape,

It Climbed No Walls,

Leaped No Shadows,

Didn’t twist or Shout.

It’s here To Fight.

To Kick Them Out.

*************************************

The Future Said

“Go Back In time”,

“Save Those Souls”,

“Disrupt Their Kind”,

“Kill The Man-Beasts”,

“Kill The Machines”,

“Kill The Cloud”,

“That Killed The Crowd”.

*************************************

There Was Too Much Trust,

And To Much Cash.

A Time Of Dopes.

A Time Of Thieves.

The Future Must Strike!

To Save The Lives!

Thanks To The Future!

The Future, Your friend.

*************************************

In A Flash

The Future Came.

Took The Good,

Sunk The Bad.

Land Made Anew,

The Good Returned.

An Easy Task

For Your Future Self.

“The Proud Cats At The PUC*C Finally Put Their Paws Down”. (A Short Story).

June 23, 2021June 27, 2021Posted in bureaucracy, cats, China, Comedy, communism, fiction, politics, sci fi, short story, social commentary, UncategorizedTagged fiction, Poems, sci fi, short storyLeave a comment

Welcome to The Baby Wants It’s Bottle Poetry Inc. Podcast, a creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. In this episode I read a short story of mine. It is somewhat inspired by my very wise cat. I wrote this after much thought about the inter-related world of civilians, societal leaders, geopolitics, pandemics and international trade. But at it’s core, all these things are instances of social interaction. Social interaction is largely is about the contested world of forming narratives, and he who tells the best stories wins. He who wins long term, creates cultural norms which are by nature tough to budge. What is ‘Culture’ other than embedded stories we all tell ourselves each other, over and over, without much or indeed any thought. I now fully recognize the art of “telling stories” determines what gets done and by who, who leads and who follows. In other words the ancient tradition of storytelling lives on in its beauty and pre-eminence more than it ever did, and also if we are not careful bad culture comes as a growing weed along the fence, avenue, town, city, nation and finally the World.

Proof of this constant need for narrative and storytelling has been seen during the heavy lockdown period in 2020-21 coupled with a period of not-seen-since-the-1930-s media and tech giant censorship. A totally new environment of “the pandemic” required demand for a new both local and world narrative. So I wasn’t so surprised when opening a web browser and seeing Orwell’s 1984 and Huxley’s Brave New World were at the top of Amazons fiction list of best sellers. In this state of flux, people are scrambling for good storytellers to tell them what’s happening and how to act. In many an eye of the public today, the dystopian future outlined in these books 1984 and BNW is now happening. We feel a distinct flavor of Authoritarianism, and these famous ‘storytelling’ books 1984 and BNW of course are also a message to the future, the future we are now in 72 and 83 years after they were written. It is not so surprising a fact these books ring true, given Orwell and Huxley were gaining much knowledge of the Authoritarian times they lived in, coupled with the History Rhymes thesis.

So the best story wins, and in the Western World at least, Huxley and Orwell have the best story about the nature and future of Authoritarian and totalitarian regimes, that why they were and are still again bestsellers. In 2021 we live in a world which seems to approximate these two books. In the future, if history is not fully erased, we will be known as the people who fought off Totalitarian disaster and World War, only to decades later throw away all for a few inflation reducing bucks and a few obselete-ing foreign made widgets. I haven’t mentioned ‘Animal farm’ which is probably very silly as my short story and the themes are more obviously similar to that Orwell novella. I will thank these three books and these two men, for the unknown guiding hand that helps move the pen when I talk of dystopian and authoritarian subjects.

I will speak no more, as you more than get my drift. I don’t claim to be anywhere as good as these two writers, I am a beginner or at best a sophomore writer who is probably emerged in too much silliness. However Orwell and Huxley are a great inspiration for me personally to attempt meaningful fiction, which I hope to achieve on some level in the future.

I’m sure when all is said and done, the animals will have a better plan for us all.

P.s. I cant help but think of the BNW theme where society programs people to die exactly at age 60, the logical point where the societal dependency and reducing economic value began to become ‘a problem’ (& by the way, is coffee the new soma)?

Please enjoy the story!

““The Proud Cats At The P*U*C*C Finally Put Their Paws Down”” – A Short Story by Martin Anton Smith 2021.

My Cat, being Conservative by nature, always wears an old world formal dining coat.

It’s Coal black with highlights of the finest Aegean sea tortoiseshell.

It fits perfectly as one piece, with the only gaps being the most physically necessary ones.

He does not, of course have a dull cat name like Tom, Mittens or Timmy.

He has a wide range of titles bestowed upon him by the finest chaps and chap-ess’s.

They are: Squeaky, Sir Squeaky, King Squeaky, His Nibs, Squeak Chop, Sir Squeeksalot.

These Titles, he advises me, are from his esteemed fellows from the strictly exclusive ‘ Pragmatic Utilitarianism Cats Club’.

Often out of Nowhere, he will say “I’m off the P.U.C.C., don’t wait up”

“Me and the ‘Cool Cat’s’ will Talk Geopolitics all night”.

To which I mentally squash the obvious childish retort of “But I thought Cat’s were lone wolves”?.

A cat of Sir Squeeky’s class, would always despise such time wasteful comedy, especially while on the way out the door.

As King Squeaky always looks resplendent, and is as organized and on-time as a German train, he is not one to mess around getting ready.

I hear the door slam shut, followed by a muffled goodbye of “toodoloo!”, followed by the slowly reducing sound of paw steps on the crunchy driveway gravel.

After somewhat feeling jealous of Sir Squeek’s upper crust social life, I retreat to my bedside reading: The books title is “China Now Owns The World, SO NOW GET USED TO IT”.

The hours pass, and I wonder how His Nibs the cat-about-town, is getting on. Then exhausted from the days running around, my eyes droop and I fall into a deep sleep.

The next afternoon Sir Squeeky opens the door and meanders in to the living room almost as slow as a turtle dawdling along on a beach.

He’s before me in the living room, eyes half closed as he has been up all night yakking at the exclusive Pragmatic Utilitarianism Cats Club – or “The P.U.C.C. or more simply spoken as “The Puk”.

“taking my opportunity for a sneaky quip I cheerily utter ” Look what the Cat dragged in; how was the Club”?

Squeaky ignores the ill mannered quip and replies perfunctorily.

“Well, we talked and decided the China problem is ok for us Cats, but extinction-ally bad for Humans, so I’m concordantly content”

“But what about shipping delays” I say, “their will be undoubted delays in your finest branded Cat Biscuits – RegalCataBix”

To which “His Nibbs” replies – “It’s sorted we’ve organized an alternate secondary shipping backup via the ex Cape Horn Spice trail and the boats are all manned and manufactured by craftsman felines”.

Again I squash the obvious quip “I thought cats hate water” and I ask “what about delays regarding sardine smelt production from Canada”, I rebut.

To which Squeak Chop dismissively replies:

“I and the P.U.C.C can get it fresh fish from the mountain stream at the next village, you dunderhead! canned sardines pffft as if, OUTRAGEOUS!”

Sir Squeaksalot starts grooming his paws nonchalantly, exuding his usual unflappability under fire.

Continuing my line of questioning I say “And so you talked about the Pandemic? So what if you Cat’s all get sick?

Squeeky looks at me with the same disdain the Queen might if a politician had upon greeting had hugged her instead of bowing politely.

“That ridiculous, we can’t get sick from something we developed ourselves in our virology labs along with the antidote”

Quite stupefied, I ask him “Are you saying you elite cats down at the P.U.C.C developed this virus in the lab, in order to do away with all Earths people”

“Sir Squeaky pawed his whiskers, that’s exactly what I’m saying, and I’m dreadfully sorry on a personal level, as you’ve been a good foot soldier for me around this joint, but we at P.U.C.C are a pragmatic and utilitarian bunch – we couldn’t take any more silliness, you were all feeding us a far too limited diet, and making the air far too dirty to breath, so much so half of us now have asthma. On top of that our coats were becoming grimey and that simply wont do. We had to put our paws down.”

To which I protested: “But you get the best quality biscuits, I feed you beef bits from the butchery, full cream milk and even some shaved deli ham on occasion”

“Yes, of course – you have been good my dear boy – it’s the rest of humanity we made this call for – you will unfortunately be what’s called ‘collateral damage”

“Collateral damage” how could you be so cold Sir Squeeksalot? After all these years”

“3 to be Exact”, he firmly retorts. “Well as I said, dear boy, it was a tough decision, not taken lightly and we spent all night on it, and it could have gone either way at any moment.”

I was about to further protest when a firm “Knock Knock Knock” cut out our conversation.

“Special delivery for Sir Squueksalot – paw print required”

I opened the door, and Squeeky jumps up on top the box the delivery man is holding. He proudly thrusts his somewhat oversize paw to the mans digital scanner, he scans it with a “boop-bip” sound, says a robotic “thankyou”, and leaves in a flash.

Then in a blur Squeeky cuts through the carton with a deft flick of an un-retracted claw, the top box flaps open to expose a small ray gun which seems to have a handle which has been molded especially for a cats paw.

Before I know it, I see Sir Squeeky point the ray gun at my head and he says “This is harder on me than it is for you sonny”.

I am swiftly encapsulated in an otherworldly green glow of visible plasma particles. It’s like I’m looking out into distant space from the surface of Alpha Centuri.

Time seems to slow to a halt for what seems like an eternity, then in the blink of am eye, all’s normal again.

For some reason I have a monstrous craving desire for ‘RegalCatabix’, some fresh Canadian smelt all washed down with a saucer full to the brim of full cream milk ‘.

I squash the acute hunger as I see Sir Squeaksalot peering at me with that common cat look of squinted half closed eyes – though this time our eyes are equal level with each other.

As the reality begins to set in, my rising anger erupts ….I open my mouth to aggressively chastise Sir Squeeksalot and ask him to reverse whatever in hells name he’s done to me with that green plasma ray gun.

I open my mouth to let out the words, but to my surprise instead of my human voice all I hear is elongated unhappy screechy sounds:

Meoooooow ……Meeeooooowwww……..Meeeeeooooooowwwwwwww.

I am about to look around and find where the feral cat is hiding – perhaps behind the couch? Then it dawns on me.

Sir Squeaky has turned me into a cat, so as to save me from the Cat-in-the-Lab designed ‘Killer Human Virus’. The Virus that would abruptly solve all of the Earth’s man made problems.

I look sheepishly at Squeeky, he looks back in a grandfatherly-wise way and says hypnotically and with gravitas:

“It’ll take you a while to get used to your voice box and speak Cat English again, but me and the Cat’s at of the P.U.C.C will teach you everything we know”. As a tear appears in my eye he swipes my face with claws fully retracted, as says ye-olden-days speak: NOW KEEP A STIFF UPPER WHISKER AND FOR SPHINX’S SAKE CARRY ON – YOU’RE A CAT NOW”

I pawed the tears streaming from my now wide yellow cat’s eye’s. Soon my spirits began to lift as I realized how lucky I was to have Sir Squeaky save me from a certain viral death.

I no longer had to worry about the deadly ‘Man Virus’ and I could live in a paradise in a world ran by Cats running of the philosophe of “Pragmatic Utilitarianism”.

I was now an ‘insider’ cat, controlled by the strongest paws and the best minds of the P.U.CC. Soon no doubt I’d be inaugurated as a fully fledged member of P.U.C.C., and no doubt would be asked by His Nibs to jointly head the committee which will manage world affairs in lieu of those dumb humans. I mean what could possibly go wrong?

Sir Squeaky then wheeled out a platform with at least 30 large red books.

“Now we have to get you schooled up of the ideology principles and methods of the P.U.C.C. system- start with Vol 1.”

Sir Squeeks pawed off one of the books from the platform, and it landed with a thud in front of my nose. I looked at the front cover. It read as the following

“P.U.C.C. MANEFESTO Vol 1 – A NEW WORLD DIGITAL CURRENCY – THE PURRCOIN”.

Then uncontrollably, my furry stomach started revolving, like the rolling waves on the open seas. Then I started rocking to and fro, violently like a sailboat in a storm in the roaring 40’s. Then I broke out into a drenching sweat, I could see my fur clumping together through my now salty sweat addled eyes. As ill as I felt, I could hear King Squeaky mumble over and over: “Oh no, not again, this theoretically shouldn’t even be possible…dear oh dear…somethings wrong with the plasma re-orienter settings, those bloody P.U.C.C. techs are useless…useless…USELESS!”

I thought it was over when a paw toe suddenly turned into my old human pinky finger, then it popped back to a paw toe, then a finger, then back again. Then horribly the same thing happened to my head. The whole upsetting experience lasted no longer than five minutes, then I was once again fine and fully formed. I was a healthy normal cat.

His Nibs sat me down and gave me a warm saucer of full cream milk, to settle my nerves after this harrowing trial. I said nothing and listened to his soothing words.

“Don’t worry, these teething issues occur initially, the ray gun plasma blast is 100% healthy. Your mild symptoms are merely a small technical hurdle the nerd cats at P.U.C.C. haven’t ironed out yet. This wont effect anything. For the moment just follow this process that has been rubber stamped by the highest P.U.C.C. committee, which you will be happy to know I also reside on as Chairman.

“One – avoid large gatherings or anywhere where you cannot reach a bathroom stall within 3-5 minutes. In other words no sports games or concerts, automobile trips etc.

Two – the signal to hide yourself away in a bathroom stall will occur when your tummy starts revolving, you of course must get to the bathroom stall before your head starts to flip between your normal cat’s head and your old human head. You must understand If anyone who is not a part of P.U.C.C sees a cat with a human head, the P.U.C.C. will be shut down. We cannot under any circumstances let that happen.

Three – when safely hidden from prying eyes inside the stall, you will wait the remaining minute or two till its all over, perhaps 5 to be safe, then you can rejoin the prior activity with no one the wiser”.

I was finally feeling a bit less worried when he kindly added “If you follow this process there wont be any problems, and of course you can still potentially be a member of the P.U.C.C. and I’ll make sure I’ll keep a guiding eye on you until our best P.U.C.C. Ape-to-Cat Reconfiguration Technicians resolve the problem”.

With Sir Squeaky’s increasingly calming words, I knew I was in good hands. I didn’t protest, I smiled obediently and wiggled my whiskers joyfully. Now was the time to begin psychologically preparing myself for a whole new post-human existence. After all, What else was I to do? Go back to being a human being who would be wiped out by cat instigated virus? Never! I wouldn’t dare squander the gift of life Sir Squeaky had manifestly bestowed upon me.

I reached my paw out for the well bound, red leather cover of the P.U.C.C. Manifesto. After all I had so much study to do. Sir Squeaky casually ambled over to sit on his favourite grey furry blanket, that overhung the base of the couch. He turned around twice the settled and went to sleep almost instantly. His purrs rung out loudly as I turned over the first gilded page.

THE END

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https://www.podchaser.com/podcasts/the-baby-wants-its-bottle-poet-1788993/episodes/the-proud-cats-at-the-pucc-fin-93940292

Thankyou for listening to the Baby wants It’s Bottle Podcast, A creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. This podcast is available on Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts from.