Friday, July 12, 2024

2 Minutes. Go!

It's OK, baby, I'm just a little bit slow. A little bit tired. I've been traveling for lifetimes, and my sense of comportment deported back near the wreck of the first MUSKROCKET. This was before the chlorine clouds thinned the herd out. Before the ocean turned to salt wash. Before the birds stopped flying and started living in holes.

I know you had a long day, honey. I did, too. My body is damn near shook apart trying to keep up with the augments. This new titanium and NUflesh exoskeleton will be the death of me. 

Baby, relax. We aren't here to talk about genitals. Here, plug in. You know you'll feel better after you're plugged in. There's too much static in your head because you're trying to go against the system, the way. You're taking their happyfeel and shoving it right back in their faces. They won't like it. 

I won't be here when they come. When they bring the erasers and the reProgs. I'll be halfway to Mars, baby. You won't stand a chance. 

Now, just relax. It's time to feel good. 

You like feeling good, don't you?

Good.

6 comments:

  1. Digging the return of the MaderRap(TM). Loving the glib darkness.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Interesting and enigmatic. I'm wondering if they are robots or people in the future. Can't put my finger on it, which makes it enigmatic. And then, third read, yep, we are in robot futuresque territory :)

      Delete
  2. Once again, too long.

    1. Before their exploration of the United States of France could commence, the Founding Fathers decided on a respite. After procuring dishes containing something called “poutine” from a park vendor sympathetic to traveling cosplayers without financial means—Franklin poured out his charm and promised the man would be handsomely repaid—the trio of time-travelers sat on a bench and, in quiet contemplation, ate and watched the children play. Along with their general discombobulation, the question of what had become of the republic for which they had once stood demanded a few moments to regroup.

    Jefferson was the first to break their silence. “Indeed this children’s game of kicking the black-and-white ball to and fro is an interesting diversion,” he said. “But I am astounded as to how our original thirteen colonies became French. Perhaps, after our repast, we can go in search of a library.”

    “If indeed those still exist in this brave new world of continental design,” Adams said.

    “Adams,” Jefferson scolded. “You must give the people more faith.”

    He harumphed. “As far as I’m concerned, the only good to come out of France is pastry, Voltaire—”

    “And the ladies,” Franklin said, raising a finger. “Never forget about the ladies. There was one in particular…”

    “Yes, Ben,” Jefferson said. “We all know about the ladies. Never forget that I succeeded you in the French ambassadorship. I could barely move a step without some creature of the fairer sex inquiring as to your health and meting out subtle tests to see if I would be as charming.”

    “My apologies, Thomas,” Franklin said with a chuckle. “Apparently mine were monstrous shoes to fill.”

    “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Adams said. “If you two roosters could control your crowing for a moment. Do you suppose our treaty with the French to get their assistance in our revolution could have been an inflection point where the timeline diverged and became…this?”

    Jefferson appeared to be contemplating the graceful skyline, then said, “You’ve got a point, John. Ben and I were both involved in the negotiations.”

    “One of you more than the other,” Adams said, eyeing Dr. Franklin.

    Jefferson looked aghast. “John, what are you suggesting?”

    “I’ve always had my suspicions about that treaty,” Adams said. “I’ve heard that there was more to the negotiation than that which was signed.”

    Adams and Jefferson both turned to Franklin. The apples of Ben’s cheeks pinked. “Can the pair of you keep a secret?”

    “Yes. Yes, of course,” Adams said.

    “Then so can I.” Franklin winked at him.

    “He did something,” Adams said. “I know he did something.”

    “Save your breath, Johnny,” Jefferson said. “He’s determined to keep his own counsel on the matter.”

    “Can we change this?” Adams said to Franklin. The man from New England turned to Jefferson and said, “Surely we can return to that spot and we two might be able to convince the Franklin of that era not to sell our fledgling republic down the river for a little—”

    “Careful, John,” Jefferson said. “This is now treason you’re implying.”

    The trio once again fell silent. John Adams stewed in his sour face. Franklin watched the children. Jefferson’s brow furrowed in thought.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. 2. Finally, Jefferson spoke. “I fear the madness in the thither-and-yon of what we’re doing, Ben. That any point in the past where we insert ourselves will have increasingly erratic effects for the future. Yes, the Philadelphia of this decade indeed looks like a haven of peace and prosperity, but who knows what other geographical areas and populations might be suffering? All because of our zeal for these adventures.”

      Franklin pressed a hand to his own chest. “We abolished the practice of slavery in America, Thomas. Surely you agree that it was the right thing to do.”

      “Well, yes, Ben. I agree to that. It’s the absence of any control over the resulting situation that troubles me. It troubles me greatly.”

      “We had no control when walked off the public stage and let our descendants carry on the business of governing America,” Franklin said. “Conflicts would arise. War would happen. Allegiances would be tested. Such is the stuff of the human condition. Such is the stuff of democracy. It’s untidy and quite loud and contentious, at times, but tell me a system that is better.”

      “Maybe we should stay off the stage, then,” Jefferson said. “We did what we could—more than what we originally thought we could. Can’t we let that be enough?”

      Silence fell again.

      “But it was so much fun,” Franklin said. He sighed, then continued, more brightly. “I believe there could still be a method whereby we can travel and not insert ourselves into history.”

      “It has indeed been fascinating to see more of the world than nature has allowed,” Jefferson said. “And John, I know you’re a Puritan, but surely you yearn for more adventure than your corporeal lifespan has allowed?”

      Adams said, “If I were being utterly frank I would have to begrudgingly admit that there have been…embers.”

      “Ah.” Franklin clapped his hands together. “There’s my boys. What delightful adventures we will have.”

      “Dr. Franklin,” Jefferson began, “what might you suggest as our next stop in the fabric of time? Given that you believe there’s a method by which we could stay out of time.”

      Franklin waved at one of the children, more accurately at his young, lovely mother, then said, “My first suggestion is that as this cosplaying business is an accepted mode of comportment here, we take the opportunity to enjoy this beautiful afternoon. When in Rome, as they say.”

      Adams frowned. “As who says?”

      “You really ought to keep up, John.” Franklin rose, straightened his waistcoat, turned to his compadres. “The first order of business, I suggest, is that we honor the debt for our repast.”

      “Are you forgetting we have no funds?” Adams said.

      “I have a plan.”

      Delete
    2. 3. Adams leaned toward Jefferson. “Indeed most of my nightmares begin with Franklin saying ‘I have a plan.’”

      “Just follow my lead, gentlemen.”

      “God help us,” Adams said, while they trailed Franklin to a more populated area of the park. Most of the denizens shared features with the little girl who’d first approached them—dark hair, dark eyes, a complexion of a light oak hue—but there were plenty enough who were different to suggest that the United States that was now of France continued to honor her promise to immigrants from all countries.

      “Do you remember, Thomas,” Franklin said as they walked. “How the entertainers in Paris would literally sing for their suppers?”

      “Yes, Ben. Some were quite delightful. But as for your singing—”

      Franklin stopped. Smiled at Jefferson. “Then please do me the favor of holding my chapeau.”

      Franklin cleared his throat, stood taller, and put out his arms as if in invitation. “Good people, gather ‘round,” he began in impeccable French. “For I, as Dr. Benjamin Franklin, am about to offer for your pleasure the wisdom of Poor Richard and his Almanac. In the original English.”

      Two people wandered over, eyes eager. More followed. Franklin, seeing the beginning of his audience form, started his recitation. Then more people came. And more. The hat filled with money. When Franklin drew his performance to a close, he thanked the audience most enthusiastically, and bowed to them as they began to drift away. A few fans stayed with Franklin, peppering him with questions, and he was happy to oblige.

      “Dear God, look at him,” Adams, sotto voce. “The power he holds over the French. He worked some manner of devil’s bargain with Versailles to get the south on board, I’m sure of it.” Adams leaned toward Jefferson. “How much money did we make?”

      Delete
  3. A hay(na)ku consists of a three-line stanza, where the first line has one word, the second line has two words, and the third line has three words.


    Step
    on out,
    slide inside in.


    Buzz
    lightly aloft,
    bumble soft dance.


    Ecstatic
    light, revoke
    night’s arc pin-point.


    Click.
    On. Off.
    Light’s suggestive spark.


    One.
    A paw.
    A toe. Impromptu.


    Scarlet
    rose, pearl
    ears of snow.


    Pelts,
    blue scales,
    shaken jagged pieces.


    Split
    selves, empty
    cusks, dishevelled shells.


    It
    snakes, eels,
    eats hexagon hearts.

    ReplyDelete

Please leave comments. Good, bad or ugly. Especially ugly.