Once-Other

by Lawrence M. Nysschens

  “Can you believe what those politicians are doing?”

  We come to another unexpected halt.

  Every screen buzzes with static and clears.

  Again it is the interior of the Hub.

  Again the same politicians present.

  But this time they are in an uproar, shouting at each other, pointing finger and flapping arms. McPeters stands and holds his hand up for silence and waits until you could detect the sound of a pin dropping.

  “Let’s be clear here,” he says. “Not a single person in the Hub today was unaware of this and hadn’t agreed to it. We all paid dearly...commitment came at the highest possible price.”

  His face red with anger Jimmy Cromwell screams, “Yes. But you had a stepson. A stepson! Others gave their own flesh and blood. I may be one of the Twelve, but I’m not privileged as you are.”

  Preordained agreement ripples through the Chamber. McPeters watches it hit, a wave crashing upon the beach of mutual discontent. In the coldest voice I have ever heard, he says, “Let me backtrack here for everyone.”

  He glares a challenge at them and they all fall silent. “Yeah. We agreed to invite certain of Here-Born’s politicians to our New World campaign. Right? Don’t just stare at me! Right?”

  They nod as one.

  “Yeah. Did they or did they not deliver all of Here-Born’s gold and oil to us as promised along with the real names of actual and suspected campaigners?”

  With grim faces and solemn nodding, they all confirm.

  “We will make good on our word and release them from prison as soon as our Invasion Force takes full control. Keep in mind that I found out they of Here-Born are a divided nation. Yeah. We land within a few days circumstances permitting—sooner if needed. We deliver what we promised. Like every single one here...they paid the entry fee.”

  “But I say,” a Senator with an aged face and wispy gray hair says. “Jimmy, as always, is right. We others made the ultimate personal sacrifice.”

  “Your point?” McPeters snaps at him.

  “Ah. I. Ah. Please. Okay. Look. I gave a daughter’s life my own flesh and blood.”

  McPeters snarls, “Are you saying the entrance fee was too high for you, Senator? Are we already forgetting the Rio Teroan’s fanatical fixation on the Rules of Evidence? Real Murder in the First dot One…evidence of?!”

  “No I. No. Just looking for some justice and truth.”

  McPeters nods. “Umm? Justice and truth. Yeah. Okay. I’m going to back way up...all the way back to fairness and truth.”

  He glares without a single twitch and save for a few, every head bows.

  McPeters growls in a low hiss, “You idiots kidnaped twelve infants from Here-Born. Me, Jimmy Cromwell there, Odentien, Juana, Sally-Anne, John McIntyre, May-ling and the others no longer with us. Those seven fools tried to go home. Right?”

  No one disagrees yet none expresses agreement.

  “Now correct me should I be wrong. Yeah. You tried for how many untold centuries to get distribution rights to Here-Born’s gold and oil—and failed. Your little contingent plan was our kidnapping.”

  Heads bow further, glazed eyes point to the floor.

  “Yeah! We the kidnaped delivered by training in your techniques and applying our natural skills to your teachings. We took complete control of most of their politicians and got those rights—those untold quadrillions of dollars for longer than we can imagine.”

  He pauses and glares. Few, other than those of the remaining Twelve present meet his eyes.

  “Yeah. We have each paid an entrance fee to our New World. An exact sacrifice—the life of a child. The one permitted us by law, which legislation we have agreed to waive in the New World. I lost my wife. She’s gone...yes...still at home but no longer with me!”

  McPeters steps forward, hands on hips and challenges them—their heads bow even lower. The remaining Twelve smile and sneer.

  “Yeah. If I recall correctly, I first alerted us to how and where Here-Born’s campaign operated. Mary, my wife, going on and on about Rights sent shivers and alarm bells through me. This Right. That Right. On and on she went, ad nauseam.

  “But we were alerted!

  “That’s when I proposed a course of action. And using their politicians once again we got the real names of these so-called campaigners each time one was discovered and verified. Yeah. Now at the same time, our Laws kicked in on Here-Born.

  “Which thus far has worked. Without their politicians’ involvement in our campaign, nothing was possible. They were the breakthrough point. Politicians. Oh Yeah. A greedy bunch are we not? So!

  “After a period we will no longer just distribute oil and gold as I’ve already covered. We’ll own it. However, we needed and still do need a situation with which to justify our planned invasion of Here-Born. Now.

  “Anyone here present forgotten what sticklers the Rio-Teroans are for Inter-Constellation etiquette? What do they say? Oh yeah. Do what you must only—have ample justification. Right?”

  All nod yes.

  “So we invented C-POP and Murder in the First Dot One Degree.

  “We had to use our own children as undeniable proof of Dot One.

  “You know this as a deep-seated truth down in your hearts. There could be no trusting some criminal with this task no matter how well paid he or she would have been. When stress hits, lips speak! And so we shared the burden of the act. Each one of us committed the deed for another...all of whom are present and as guilty.

  “So keep in mind! It is easy to force any individual to speak. Anyone! But it’s far harder to get someone to speak when the deeds are their own and there’s no one to point finger at except self! Please!

  “Never lose sight of that. Nor of this...our actions were for the greater good of all Mankind. Solely and only for Mankind’s future do we tread so difficult a road. It is the correct path upwards to a Greater Race of Human Beings.

  “Something only dreamed of since the early days.

  “Previous historical giants paved the way...yet failed in the end.

  “Fellow Adolf, Fellow Joseph, Fellow Mao, Fellow Lenin, Saint Karl and many less illuminated wannabes. What did we learn from them? Genocide? Not workable. Communism failed. Fascism failed. Democratic elections failed.

  “No singular political philosophy brought about what was needed—how precisely that showed up back in 2026. What did work? We combined them all. The use of all those political philosophies swiveling around the central theme...from out of chaos comes change...change comes only out of chaos.

  “So how would we bring about chaos? Do nothing if more chaos results...do something if more chaos results...drive every confusion or troubling incident directly into chaos and or greater confusion...and so comes about change. The directed change that we want.

  “Let us not forget those dearly beloved Harbingers of Fear. That old trustworthy News Media. Oh. How they spread bad news and every act of terrorism far and wide. How close that was in the end. Imagine if they’d refused to cover those acts. Imagine if they simply made a two-minute reference to it and never mentioned an act of terror again.

  “How would we have spread terror and panic across the world without their coverage? No. That would have been impossible. Imagine hitting New York and only the USA got a two-minute bulletin and nothing else.

  “We would have failed miserably.

  “And! We took over the poor and struggling by giving them free stuff, those endless handouts, and entitlements and then gave them more free stuff. Promised them a free ride forever and never allowed them time to think it through. Oh! Thanks to a complacent and co-operating News Media once again.

  “Imagine if some entitlement junkie had said something like when we’re all on free stuff where’s the money to make free stuff going to come from? Well, slaves are where. And the entitlement poor were the next new era slaves right after those who betrayed their own people by helping us.

  “Gone they are.

  “So eas
y to round up registered entitlement receivers. Get on the train, on the bus. You are off to pick up free stuff for yourselves. No! Take the family along that way you can carry more.

  “There you go. Step right on up.

  “On the other hand imagine if someone had suggested that if you get free stuff you lose your right to vote—years for each payment you receive.

  “How would we have built a voting bloc of voters living off free stuff if that had happened?

  “Thank all Fellows no one thought of that one!”

  He drops his arms his face aglow as though a holy light shines upon him. He takes a deep breath, wipes his brow and continues.

  “Had those who helped back in 2026 taken some real history lessons we would not be here today. But more importantly, from Fellow Mao onwards we purged anyone who helped us the invader, invade against their own people. May have been earlier, but that is sure.

  “And how exactly did we invade and conquer? By using propaganda laced with violence. Propaganda designed to gain popular agreement against undesirables. You know who those were. Smokers of cigarettes went first. Lovers of the right to freely own and bear arms went second. Those overweight useless eaters were third. Polluters who refused to drive green cars fourth. Pro-life advocates fifth. Protestors against drug use were sixth—and on and on.

  “I...okay here’s how. Just find a segment of the population who are easily positioned by propaganda into a group worthy of the hate of others. Get the remaining population to hate that one group. Make people believe that that group has no rights. But!

  “Never allow anyone to realize that if they agree that someone else has no rights...their rights will soon evaporate as well. So never leave them to their own devices once you have won. Yeah—once in power we purge those who helped get us there. They are the first to be purged...once the invader rules! Always!

  “Perhaps you now fully understand why I so welcome Here-Born’s treasonous politicians to our New World.”

  Heads nod sagely as understanding dawns.

  McPeters nods his satisfaction and says, “We must never lose sight of the main thread of a successful invasion...and, in particular, post a successful one. No matter the office they hold, no matter how good the work they have done nor the talking points they repeated until all others believed as they appeared to. They are always purged first...always.

  “Every invader knows this: if someone betrays their own people, their own Constitution, their own Bill of Rights and thereby their own form of government—they protest authority. Any authority. And so much so they’ll commit treason to see their own country surrendered up to an invader—one from beyond their borders or one from within their borders.

  “But...now the invader is the government and since we know they protest their own government enough to betray it...they vanished first. And into forced labor camps they went, half-starved and driven till they drop and don’t get up. And why so? Because the Invader is now the government and they protest government...don’t they?”

  Silence reigns, he inspects them and continues.

  “And so all the little helpers back when—vanished. Including those of the so-called...News Media.”

  He claps his hands silently and continues.

  “Now. About today. Yeah! Man can now finally rise to heights of socially perfected behavior upon a New World rid at last of those who hang like lead weights around our necks, dragging us forever down.

  “No more the drug addict, the whiner, the chronically ill, the naysayers, the indigent, the bum and hobo, the anti-Socialism nuts, the entitlement addicts. And on and on and on!

  “So! Any doubters amongst us?”

  No one moves, no one blinks.

  He takes a sip of water.

  “Yeah. Now about what we’ve done—generally speaking.

  “You know we could not afford to bring outsiders in...no matter how loyal they appeared. We used an entrance fee none could back away from without paying the ultimate price...death by extended ADD-D.

  “Look around and to see how well this worked. Our Invasion Fleet hovers in waiting—ready to plunge downwards and rain fire upon a desert world. They remain hidden in the dark of space, awaiting orders to deploy a scorched Here-Born policy.”

  Every face except for those of the Twelve turns gray. The silence grows so deep one can hear electrons orbiting. They had obviously never addressed their plan in so coldblooded a manner.

  McPeters is not done and his voice begins to rise growing stronger. “Now you gave over to us the remaining Twelve, full control, and responsibility for the New World campaign. Do you want to take that back?”

  He looks them over and nods.

  “Anyone here want to turn traitor on the remaining Twelve? Let me remind you of the hundreds of corpses rotting in shallow graves. Do you agree that they gave their lives for our training? Gave them well? Do you now regret the blood on your hands?”

  A single cough breaks the silence.

  McPeters drives on.

  “Have we the remaining Twelve given ourselves to you? Have we delivered everything we said we would? Has C-POP Murder in the First Dot One Degree been accepted by Rio-Tero as acts of terror?”

  Heads nod eagerly.

  “Then trust us to deliver Here-Born and the New World as we’ve promised and with ample justification for all our acts. In other words...your salvation is at hand.”

  The House Members glance with fear-filled eyes at one another.

  “Once again. Anyone here no longer wish to leave their beloved Earth?”

  All shake their heads.

  “Yeah! Okay then. Remember my—our commitment to you. Yeah.

  “You kidnaped us.

  “Yeah.

  “You took us from the arms of loving parents.

  “Yeah.

  “You imprisoned us in that horribly cold dormitory...housed like rabbits in a warren. But we each whispered to you the secret of what fuels our hatred...no one from Here-Born came looking.

  “No one!

  “We gave our commitment to the New World. You still have it! I’ve long forgotten those of the Twelve executed for attempting to escape. You should forget what you should as well. Yeah! Therein lies your salvation.”

  And his face twitches violently.

  CHAPTER 76

  Of Two Different Conquests Begun

  I rush out the elevator to find pandemonium reigns. Hundreds of transcribers mill about, talking up a storm, a mass of swirling gray uniforms just like mine. In the center of all this commotion stands my Supervisor.

  He is alone deep in thought with a clear space around him. In one hand, he holds his beloved red, white and blue coffee mug. Steam floats around the rim, slithers upwards and fills the narrow hallway with its fragrant aroma.

  In his other hand dangles a lighted cigarette.

  I note he is standing directly beneath a smoke detector.

  I head for my office. Got stuff I need to check on—right now!

  I stride by him and he smiles at me.

  “Morning Agnes,” he says.

  I screech to a halt. Agnes? He knows my name?

  “You know...smoke detector...right above you?” I say somewhat lost for words.

  He looks up, ponders for a moment and says, “What say you turn this one off?”

  “That’s illegal. It’s also illegal to smoke indoors.”

  “Yes. I know. Turn it off anyway.”

  I head to my cubicle, log in and turn the smoke detector off. He wants some real protest—he’s got himself a protester.

  Now, what is on my mind? Oh yes. I hunt down the third-eye recordings made by Peter Wernt and scan through them and make notes of the information Once-Other passed on with regards their groups, Nomads, Desert Drivers and Free Marketeers.

  Oh, my Equalness—everything makes sense.

  They are here!

  They have taken over everything from our communications systems to electrical grids...absolutely everything. Oops.

&
nbsp; My Supervisor is right behind me.

  He sure can move quietly and quickly.

  He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

  Oh no! What is this?

  “Agnes. Good work. Excellent. Stay the road.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Call me Pete.”

  “Okay. Ah? Pete.”

  “I wonder what’s next?” he asks.

  “Me too,” I reply.

  He pats again and heads off.

  I’m about to get down to further research, but static waves cut across my screen. They resolve and shadowy shapes evolve, sharpen and become Seattle BA-75 docked on Here-Born. The engines fire spewing flame, smoke, and thunder. The camera follows the tanker until it disappears into the sky.

  Screen goes black then activates again.

  We are looking downward at another desert.

  BA-75 comes in for a landing with clouds of smoke and billowing dust. The engines cut off and heat waves rise. The camera pulls back. BA-75 grows smaller until we are so high we can see the world below, and it is Earth. The focus moves in closer and closer. Two tiny figures exit a hatch onto a steel mesh platform above the transportation tank.

  The viewpoint races into close-up.

  Oh, my Equalness—it is Madsen Somalo and another.

  Why is the other one wearing a mask? Why does anyone wear a mask?

  What are they doing? What type of liquid is coming out that silo? We should see vapor spewing if it’s liquid oxygen. No, cannot be liquid oxygen—doesn’t fit.

  Okay. He’s done.

  They head for the cage their boots clattering across the steel walkway. Going down in the cage. I wait through time-consuming and endless clackity-clack. This is taking forever.

  Okay, they are running across the sand now. Okay. We all know that Madsen. Steel pipes do not burn. Give us a break here. Okay. That looks like gasoline. Oh yes. Now the pipe burns. Wait. That silo is filled with gas, not liquid oxygen.

  If they are not busy importing oxygen but instead it is gasoline—why am I paying for BA? Why is anyone paying for BA?

  Voice-over echoes my thoughts. “Why are you paying for BA when what’s being imported is gasoline?”