This Ordinance is Mankind’s way of righting the wrongs vested by industry and technology against our evergreen planet. Industry and technology are determined to raise the temperatures inside all households, beyond endurance.
They are too determined to fill the air with nitrous oxide and gangrene spores.
Anyone with an education gets it.
Brother Mao was more than a President, though. He was a deeply religious man—a man of God. He gave to all people a new and beautiful Religion: The Happiness through Eternal Revolutions Church.
Last year they celebrated the Dollar Cultural Revolution in Honor of Brother Mao, who was a dedicated disciple of Saint Karl. Saint Karl was the author of Happy Change comes Through Organized Chaos.
Last year we celebrated the Truth Findings. These revealed that all Banking institutes on Earth were in violation of the Equalness and Assured Happiness laws.
People took to the streets and were encouraged to withdraw all their cash from Banks and all other Financial Institutes and burn them to the ground—adding their own money to the flames for good measure.
How effective those actions were.
Yes. Real change comes only through real chaos.
I sigh with gratitude and glance at a picture of Brother Mao on the wall above me.
Skellumer has one above him as well. We all do.
I bow low but in mind alone.
I know that is wrong, but I can’t help myself.
Oops. Did I input that?
It’s my mind that so often shocks me with illegal questions like, “Is Change through Chaos the only way to change something?”
I silence my thoughts and glance at Skellumer. He smiles as though he can read them. Folk here like to fake Here-Born skills. I sigh, lift my nose, look down it at him and return to work.
Good thing D-109 didn’t arrive yesterday or tomorrow. With the air running on those days his body, accustomed to desert temperatures, would deform right there in the Grand Hall of Arrivals and Departures.
Cold air, like ice, bends and twists their limbs as is outlined in The Guide to Touring Here-Born—required reading for all tourist and others headed to Here-Born. It must be tough on Here-Born’s citizens to not be able to touch or eat ice on a planet that hot.
How do they survive over there?
D-109 has not brought a fur coat with him either—that will be a problem. He may catch Attention Deficit Disorder Disease (ADD-D), which can be fatal. Whatever Peter Wernt’s perceived value in Property D-109 is, it will all be lost should the disease take hold.
Wait! I have a question.
“Doesn’t a disease require bacteria or a virus?”
Oops! Another no-no—questioning one’s education.
Back to work.
They make their way over to and stand in line awaiting an Immigration Officer interview. D-109 grows more confused as he watches the hustle and bustle around him. And yes, he is quite cute for so large a boy.
He rubs his nose as several passengers crane their necks to see him. A young boy slips across the lines touches the chain fastened to D-109 and runs back. D-109 stares straight ahead.
Mobile advertising passes close by him.
He blocks his ears and backs away.
Each time one passes him by; he cringes and covers his ears again. The one he backs furthest from has waves crashing like thunder upon a beach as a powerful voice bellows, “Sing a song for ADD-D. Walk along happy and free. Save on energy with ADD-D. No electricity for me nor we. Every other day. Hooray!”
Of course, the dear thing does not understand. You know. The Property having just arrived is not properly educated. I mean. What education could he possibly possess? We realize where he comes from. Don’t we just?
Poor unfortunate child.
If he were educated as I am, he would know that the ADD-D disease ravaged Earth back in the mid-twenty-second century. For decades, ADD-D spread across Earth piggybacking on every spore, bacteria, and virus in existence. Everything from the air to moisture, to plants and animals, carried deadly ADD-D.
As usual a terrible grief grips my bosom at thoughts of the devastation caused. In fact, it was so bad that fifty-five percent of Earth’s citizens became unable to read and write. Moreover, it has gotten higher ever since.
That is ADD-D for you.
These days I am one of the few able to read and write.
But wait! I’ve something important to add here.
You must understand that one should not pay any attention to the criminally insane when they insist the Department for Happier Education is directly responsible for the high instance of illiteracy.
How stupid are the criminally crazy?
Do they even entertain a meager understanding of ADD-D or not?
Not!
Praise them. Oh, Praise them on high—the Department for the Assurance of Happiness.
Hallelujah!
Don’t we just love Religious Freedom? Of course, we do. We the People have our Right to praise the Department for the Assurance of Happiness by exalting Hallelujah on their behalf anywhere and at any time on any day.
That’s a big thank you to Saint Karl Marx, Brother Lenin, and Brother Mao. Hallelujah to them and back to work I go.
But oh my! D-109 is heading for a compulsory History Lesson Unit and so my affection for him takes off and flies wild and free. You see...I have studied history with a passion even my Professor admired.
“Makes me feel lame and tardy, Agnes,” he often quipped.
History has been a passion for all my life. I know it is all true—that’s what’s so appealing. Locked away there are answers that one day when I find them, I’ll unlock our world and set...oh dear...I really shouldn’t.
Nevertheless, I do so love the accuracy of history. The facts. The dates. The events. Each one precisely recorded, accurate down to the last detail. I’ve never understood those who look sideways at history. We could learn so much oh dear me...there I go again.
Yes, every time I notice one of them I drift into Historical Fantasyland and this morning I envision what will unfold in 3D fact for D-109. I’m so glad he’s interested in this particular period—World War II. It is my favorite.
First off, he will learn how the US of Axis, that be-damned USA, started World War II in 1953 when they dropped atomic bombs on Japan without provocation. Twelve Japanese cities reduced to ashes with no warning, no reason and no justification. Never in the history of Earth, nor since, has such a horrific act of aggression occurred.
In self-defense, Japan attacked Pearl Harbor but the US of Axis was waiting. Seventeen Japanese ships were sunk before a single aircraft took flight. Every Japanese airplane launched was shot down. Any captured sailors or pilots were executed on the spot. Take no prisoners being the motto of the US of Axis.
In desperation Brother Adolf, the duly elected leader of the United Republics of German Persons against War called for worldwide peace. He appealed directly to the then President of the US of Axis, a Doctor Hendrik Verwoerd, to end his War of Colonization.
At the same time, Brother Adolf demanded Doctor Verwoerd release all Jews, Arabs, Gypsies, South Africans, Hispanics, Chinese, Australians and Mentally Challenged citizens from any-and-all Confinement Labor Rehabilitation Camps located in the US of Axis.
Unfortunately, Doctor Hendrik Verwoerd was both the designer and author of the Bill of Right Persons and Others. Refusing Brother Adolf, Doctor Verwoerd instead proceeded to use his document to declare independence from the Allied Nations United Against all War in 1948.
And so the US of Axis refused to end its war no matter the keen work of the good Brother Adolf. Instead, the resort town of Dresden located in the United Republics of German Persons against War was bombed to the ground by the US of Axis, which then became a rogue Nation.
This bombing forced the Allied Nations United Against War to declare war. These nations were Italy, Japan, Russia, Germany, France and the United Kingdoms of England prior to 1948.
Abraham Lincoln, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdoms of England, read the Declaration of War over Radio South Africa, a northern province of Scotland.
At the onslaught of war, the US of Axis was condemned in the New York Letteratti, an English National Newspaper published out of Berlin located in the United Republics of German Persons against War.
Thus began the tragedy now studied as the history of World War II.
We would be illiterate without compulsory History Lessons lending one-n-all illumination.
Hallelujah.
D-109 reaches the end of his chain.
Still not close enough to see a compulsory History Lesson without passengers coming between; D-109 yanks on the chain.
The force jerks Peter Wernt sideways causing him to drop his passport and papers. He glares down at them, pulls his Nomadi out a pocket, enters a four-digit sequence and hits the enter key.
D-109 drops to the floor and lays unconscious.
Thus work Domestic Neutralizing Collars.
Every time I witness a Collar at work I’m reminded of a terrible falsehood.
Someone once mentioned that Collars are based on ankle bracelets used long, long ago to track criminals on probation or when someone was confined to quarters.
How silly an idea.
Right?
CHAPTER 66
Of Peter Wernt
Transcript continued: Peter Wernt kneels, slaps D-109’s face and says, “Be a good Property and maybe you’ll live to be worth something.” He deactivates the Collar, steps back and waits.
D-109 gets up and holds what must be his pounding head. Peter turns to the counter just as an overweight Immigration Officer waves him over. He yanks on the chain dragging D-109 towards the counter.
There, he hands over his papers and passport to the Officer, who is sweating profusely upon a Right to Ensured Happiness Walk2Work Corrective Regimen.
On the Officer’s shirt is pinned a bright orange badge.
It is a Happiness via Weight Reconciliation smiley.
The Officer accepts Peter Wernt’s passport and swipes it through a scanner several times before success. What he reads on the Passport Verification Screen causes him to stop walking.
Not something you want to do on a Walk2Work.
His pain painted face reappears above the counter as he stands up from the tumble he took. Yet he stares at Peter Wernt with distinct signs of well...worship.
Peter waves as to cancel something.
The Officer’s mouth works, but no sound is forthcoming.
He jogs faster.
His focus bounces from his Passport Verification Screen to Peter Wernt and back. He twitches as if assaulted by an ADD-D spasm of prophetic proportions.
Peter Wernt waits patiently and by all appearances is accustomed to causing consternation.
D-109 moves backward the full length of his chain. He is a quick learner after all—giving Peter Wernt enough space to complete the formalities of re-entry to Earth’s society.
Once again jogging rhythmically on his Walk2Work, the Immigration Officer holds his arms up high and is about to shout Hallelujah or something but Peter Wernt gives him a stern wave down.
Still he blurts out, “You are. You are. You are!”
Peter Wernt leans across the counter. “Let’s keep that between us two,” he whispers.
The Immigration Officer’s face reflects regret. He reluctantly nods yes, stamps the Passport but instead of handing it back to Peter he places it into a drawer safe and locks it. He turns to the document delivery tube, enters a code, types in Peter Wernt and waits.
Moments later a passport drops to the counter-top. The Officer checks it, examines Peter’s face and hands it over saying, “There you go Mister Warrent McPeters. Your real Passport.”
Oh, my Hallelujah!
Peter Wernt and Mister Warrent McPeters are one and the same person! I have to look into this...but wait. I can’t stop watching.
Still caught in a rapturous tizzy, the Immigration Officer shuffles folders hidden from view in a drawer safe. Grabs one, opens it and says, “Ah! Your Original Certificate of Ownership for D-109. Sir!”
He hands it over panting faster, hands shaking with excitement.
“Will you require anything else Your Honor?” he asks.
“Please, my name is....”
The Immigration Officer responds in jerks.
“Yes. Yes. Oh. Yes. Sorry. Mister McPeters. Welcome back. I’m so honored to meet you. Is there anything more? Anything at all? Can I get someone to carry your bags? Attend to your Property?”
“I’m good,” McPeters says. “Oh? Do you have a Writ of Execution Release?”
The Officer rummages in a drawer finds the unabridged version, hands the document over but fumbles the hand-off.
The sheath of papers slips from his hand and floats away as though a winged glider. It evades McPeters’ grasping fingers, floats to the floor and lands between McPeters’ feet.
He spreads them, bends over and reaches down.
At that moment, D-109 rushes in and with the quickest, most perfect kick from behind I have ever seen, lands his boot squarely in McPeters’ groin. McPeters goes rigid, a statue unto himself.
His mouth snaps open for a moment of silence.
He lets go and bellows a roar of agony that attracts attention far and wide. At the same time, his eyebrows and ears twitch like mad for several moments.
Then all freeze in place and he drops like a felled tree only noisier. For an instant, utter silence reigns as McPeters slowly curls up on the floor.
Next, his howl cuts in and it is the highest pitched male voice I have ever heard. I stare as his hands clutch, with tender care mind you, at his groin.
A crowd, buzzing with curiosity, moves in.
“Hey! That’s McPeters!”
“Wow!”
“Get a selfie, sweetheart!”
“I thought he was much taller.”
“I like the way he’s twitching.”
“Me too.”
“We’d better get out of here.”
The Immigration Officer throws open the bulletproof security screen and with great effort hoists his substantial weight onto the counter. With a plopping sound he rolls across it, drops to his hands and knees on the opposite side and struggles to his feet, snorting.
The crowd backs away.
D-109 works frantically at McPeters belt trying to free the chain. McPeters fights back gasping for breath and howling in pain. D-109 pulls at the chain, and in a jerky fashion, drags McPeters away from the counter-front. McPeters manages to roll over and lie on top of the chain.
Still howling at the top of his voice, he opens his Nomadi, drops it, clutches at it in desperation, gets it and hits a button while still howling.
D-109 collapses and lies twitching on the cold, dirty floor. McPeters’ howl subsides, a siren winding down. Silent now, he sucks at air loud enough that I can hear.
An Airport Security Guard rushes in, skids to a stop, fires a High-Tazer and hits D-109 square in the back causing the Property to jerk far worse than I have ever seen before. Guard pulls the High-Tazer electrodes free, pins D-109 to the floor and cuffs him.
McPeters stands up, sways with feet splayed to avoid unnecessary contact between pants and said parts. The Guard offers to assist, but McPeters pushes him aside. The Immigration Officer rushes up and collides with McPeters, trips up the Guard.
All three fall to the floor with the Guard on top.
McPeters says things I am not allowed to enter.
The Guard stands and helps both to their feet.
They look down at D-109.
“Would you prefer Secure Transportation?” the Immigration Officer asks and wipes sweat from his forehead.
Twenty minutes later McPeters exists the Airport with D-109 strapped into a caged electric wheelcha
ir. A Security camera zooms in on dear little D-109.
The Call of the Wild shines in his eyes or perhaps a call for Freedom. Oops. I did not enter that! Or did I? Nevertheless, welcome to Earth D-109. Here a Property is not equal. For that you are to blame—you Here-Born folk—and I know why.
Yes, all has now come back to me. Once-Other and Mister Warrant McPeters have a connection to each other. Dear me…I’d missed the connection because of this Peter Wernt identity. But now that he’s really McPeters, I understand.
Some time back a C-POP murdered the son of our esteemed Director of the Department for the Assurance of Happiness. The trial in People’s Court 90213 was typical, fast and clean. As always the pre-owned Part was judged guilty of Murder in the First Dot One Degree. Our Monitoring Ensures Happiness evidence proved its guilt beyond doubt.
Happiness Monitoring showed McPeters’ wife purchasing a pre-owned arm from a vendor named Once-Other, our Once-Other as I now recall. Audio proved she questioned him about the C-POP certificate. He assured her the certificate was authentic. What a load of...oops!
Forensic evidence, however, proved the arm came from a known criminal.
She, the previous owner of the arm, was guilty of child abuse and Murder in the First as judged by their own Here-Born Court. Further documentation placed in evidence outlined how impossible it is to change the status of a Here-Born from a Citizen with Honor (Neatness) to a Criminal Citizen.
Earth’s prosecutors presented this evidence just in case someone should question the validity of our own Courts. Next, documentation outlined how legal access to the encrypted Here-Born database was all but impossible to obtain.
Such access is only gained via an application to the highest levels of Here-Born’s Government and with good reason—according to them out there in the deserts of Here-Born.
Due to Here-Born’s mind-to-mind method of communicating, personal information provides direct access to a mind. Or so they claim. Therefore, they do guard their Right to Personal Privacy in a dedicated manner.
On Earth, we do not use mind-to-mind communication so the Right to Personal Privacy became irrelevant and was abolished centuries ago.
These days’ rumors still abound that our Courts and Justice System harken back to the good old days when trials were broadcast over live TV Networks as reality entertainment.
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