CLICK, click-click, CLICK, click-click.
“Harriet Tubman, huh?” said Gora looking at the beautifully written note. She flipped through the tattered pages. “Her list of achievements is quite incredible for humankind.” Gora stopped on a page that had a picture of Harriet Tubman sitting in a wicker chair. “This is who we need to help us. I can’t believe I didn’t think of her from the beginning. But I’ll have to see if I can get my hands on a real photograph of her. This picture in the book may not work correctly.”
Gora admired the dusty, dilapidated book for several minutes. She eyed the handful of black and white photos of Harriet Tubman. She was a sturdy woman that wore a plain dress and a bandana; she also happened to save many lives from slavery.
“My word,” swooned Gora. “I am so happy I created you! You knew exactly what we needed!” Gora gripped Owlbert and hugged him tightly.
Owlbert squawked and flapped his wings. “OK! OK! Frau Gora please stop! OK! OK!” laughed Owlbert, more nervously than happily.
Gora let go of Owlbert and began to twirl about the laboratory. She twirled to her tiny radio in the middle of the laboratory and turned it on. She began to dance to the pop music seeping out of the speakers.
“I am going to get my revenge, la la la boom, going cut all their throats, la la la slice, going to make their families feel grief, la la la ha!” sang Gora horribly. An electronic instrumental now came through the speakers. Gora continued to add her own lyrics.
During the strange performance, Hitbear and Owlbert found themselves next to one another as Gora kept singing and dancing and being unusual. The pair of beasts were slowly accepting the bizarre nature of Gora. It was endearing in a way.
“This is awfully weird and deranged,” said Hitbear as he playfully patted Owlbert on the head.
“Ja, even for du? Oh, vell. Vee must abide by zee creator! To make her happy,” said Owlbert as he became relaxed by the patting. The owl-beast’s eyes flittered delightfully.
“La la la poof, maybe dip them in some acid!” continued Gora, her voice dripping heavily with bloodlust.
“So who did you two decide on for our mega soldier?” asked Hitbear continuing to gently pat the half-man, half-bird. “Whatever we’re calling it.”
“La la la snip, put some fish hooks through their mouth!” continued Gora.
“I don’t think vee vere ever going to make ein-uhm ‘Mega-Soldier’ but vee decided on zee one und only Harriet Tubman! One of zee most integral human beings in American history!” stated Owlbert, still exceptionally relaxed from the patting he was receiving from Hitbear. “Gora has decided to change up zee plan; vee vill be taking the revenge into our own hands!”
“La la la chop-chop, mince them up, mince them up!” continued Gora. Her movements became sporadic and animalistic.
“I’m quite fine with taking this into our own hands, but a Negro?” questioned Hitbear loudly.
Suddenly, Gora stopped dancing and singing. She sprinted over to Hitbear and punched him in his thick bear mouth.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” screamed Gora with unbridled vocal strength; Owlbert and Hitbear’s sphincters clenched tightly. Neither had been so terrified of a tiny human like this before. “She’s daunting,” thought Hitbear once again.
“I didn’t say anything!” gasped Hitbear as he gripped his stump arm, a constant reminder of his insubordination. “Please, creator no! I don’t know what I did, but I didn’t do it purposefully!” Gora gripped tightly to the fur on Hitbear’s chest, as the beast cowered.
As Gora began to withdraw her knife to slice Hitbear’s other paw off, the radio screeched with a loud buzzer – BMMMMPPPPHHH – then began to ring out:
This is a public service announcement per the Arkansas State Radio Service.
There has been a third candidate included on the ticket to fill the seat of Governor of the state of Arkansas. Elections will take place this coming fall. Here is more information on the third candidate.
Misanthropic billionaire businessman and philanthropist, Chairman Obelis, has announced that he will enter in the race to become the next Governor of Arkansas! He will be running in the Philanthropist Party – which he just created this morning – and will be supported by world-renowned scientist: Takeo Silva.
Gora’s grip on Hitbear’s chest fur lessened. Hitbear began to stand up straight and withdraw from his cowering stance. He focused on Gora’s eyes, which were open wide and strained. She was sweating profusely.
Silva is known for creating a vaccine that eliminated feline AIDS, but took immoral measures to create the vaccine. He is heavily opposed by animal rights groups. It is speculated that he will take a position in Obelis’ cabinet should Obelis become Governor. More information on Doctor Silva will likely be known when the first debate for the Arkansas gubernatorial race occurs in Bella Vista.
The reclusive billionaire, Chairman Obelis, has stated he wants to be more involved in the political process for the “greater good” of humanity. The full details of Obelis’ campaign remain a mystery, but will likely be known at the aforementioned gubernatorial debate in Bella Vista.
Gora dropped her knife and began to struggle to control her breathing.
Chapter 8
Teach a Man to Fish
Standing still in an open field, Chairman Obelis looked through binoculars, with those binoculars’ straps draped across his chest. To the north laid a thicket, to the east nothing but open, rugged land for miles, to the south an abandoned mining facility and to the west the sun on the horizon – once the sun set, one could see the beginnings of a dense forest to the west. Beyond that dense forest, a scrappy, smelly trailer park full of workers lived. “This would be the perfect spot,” thought Chairman Obelis. “The perfect spot to continue my ultimate plan.”
“Send for the construction materials, architects and refurbishers, Jeffrey,” said Chairman Obelis to his assistant. “Make sure someone has knowledge on modern architecture. I want it to look keen.”
“Yes, sir. As you wish,” nodded Jeffrey as he walked slowly back to the black SUV parked at what used to be the parking lot for the miners that could afford cars. It was mostly gravel and dirt with no parking lines. Once inside the SUV, he grabbed a handheld radio.
“Time to strike. Send in the construction crew immediately. Bring the assigned equipment for the refurbishers too,” ordered Jeffrey. “Also, make sure one of those architects knows about modern architecture – it’s a must. Not post-modern either – just simply modern, got it?” The handheld radio buzzed back and Jeffrey seemed pleased. He tossed it back into the SUV.
Jeffrey watched his boss, Chairman Obelis, from the SUV. Chairman Obelis, a tall, slender but sturdy man, was slowly twirling around pointing robotically: pointing at the thicket to the north, pointing at the nothingness to the east, pointing to the factory to the south and pointing to the sun slowly fading in the west. Chairman Obelis’ actions were bizarrely cute to Jeffrey, since they were rare actions.
Chairman Obelis had always been quite exuberant with his passions, albeit his exuberance was rarely shown. He normally wore a look of boredom, never cracking a smile during business deals. His bored look often gave off the feeling that he could go elsewhere to make a deal, so this scared potential business partners of trying to lowball or con Chairman Obelis.
Often times when dealing with overzealous persons, he drove a hard bargain to make sure the little people didn’t get trampled on, which normally led to him losing most of his own share. It was what he felt was necessary when dealing with hardheaded and selfish persons. Regardless, he still wore that look of boredom.
He was one of the few businessmen in the world that legitimately gave to charities – instead of creating a faux charity to use as a tax deduction – and helped try to turn peoples’ lives around, though he rarely put himself in the spotlight. Fame was not a goal of his, nor was he about granting a journalist access into his life to paint him in an incorrect light.
Chairman Obelis av
oided the press at all costs because he wanted to live a “stress-free” life at home. He avoided the press so often that he created devices that would render a journalist’s recorder useless, devices that would melt the memory cards of photographer’s cameras, and devices that caused would-be intruders to receive painful headaches, among other devices that Chairman Obelis had in his arsenal against the press. He wanted to do his good deeds, not rake in the glory. Jeffrey was his liaison to the world.
Jeffrey never questioned his boss’ tactics because Jeffrey knew his boss was an intelligent man that knew how to run businesses properly. “Why question what works?” Jeffrey would often think.
But now, becoming quite bored with the business world, Chairman Obelis wanted to get into the political racket. He wanted to go beyond just helping people; he wanted to guide people so that he could make the right decisions for them. He knew that you could give people money, scholarships, housing, healthcare and perfect options, but people would always find ways to ruin it. He knew that humans were full of an incredible amount of faults, genetically and otherwise, and those faults would ultimately end humanity, intentionally or not. He had almost no faith in the general populace of humanity, though he cared deeply about nearly all humans.
Chairman Obelis would often tell Jeffrey that the “Teach a Man to Fish” quote was a load of horseshit and fooled even the smartest men into thinking that they could help everyone, simply by providing options of education, food, shelter, money, and so forth.
“Now Jeffrey, humans have dominated this planet because of our minds and our ability to use tools – complex tools. We have moved past needing to be full of brawn, testosterone and animalistic instincts. We need to use our minds to create new tools that our minds will use to further our knowledge. We need to create tools that will help the masses in deciding what to do. As I’ve always told you, the masses are significantly ignorant on nearly all technological advances and human history, among other topics.
“They know how to eat, shit, drive their cars, do menial work, watch television and produce equally stupid spawns of themselves; what the hell are they doing to help mankind? Adding more mouth breathers to the gene pool? We can’t help them merely with education, we can’t help them by providing healthcare and there’s no way we can help them if we give them more money to spend on God knows what. They’re entirely incapable of thinking critically and thinking about the bigger picture! Humans and their governments have effectively neutered the population to the point that they’re just skinbags, mouth-breathers and pseudo-intellectuals repeating political, religious or academic rhetoric that they don’t even understand!
“We need to be able to control – erm, guide the masses that can’t help control themselves, then after a few generations I am hopeful that with the decisions we make for them that they will become autonomous and not hamper mankind’s progress. I hate calling my fellow man ‘mouth-breathers’ because I love humanity, but the mouth-breathers need to be bred out of humanity otherwise we’ll all be mouth-breathers in a few short decades or less.”
-----
Jeffrey had always been quite glad that he was selected as Chairman Obelis’s assistant out of over five hundred thousand applicants, but, unknown to Jeffrey, was merely selected for his lack of any close family members, and his handful of degrees in quantum computer science didn’t hurt his chance either.
He was offered an incredible salary from Chairman Obelis right after their meeting together, a mere three years ago. Jeffrey was becoming the biggest asset Chairman Obelis ever had, and ever needed. Not to mention that Jeffrey fully believed in what Chairman Obelis wanted to do. “Few men want to achieve greatness for humanity,” thought Jeffrey. “What better person is there to work for?”
Jeffrey continued his thoughts, “Chairman Obelis was on the frontlines doing whatever was necessary! Chairman Obelis stayed in the huts with the Fulani tribe in West Africa to see how badly insects were destroying their crops and children, he braved the arctic temperatures in Nunavut with Inuit tribes trying to hunt down whales for sustenance, and he slept on the ground of woman’s shelter in Chicago for a week guarding the shelter to show the women that they were worth something to someone. All without a film crew or press release. Chairman Obelis just did what he felt was necessary to help others get through a night.”
“Are they on their way, Jeffrey?” shouted Chairman Obelis as he was still slowly rotating and pointing, rotating and pointing, rotating and pointing. Jeffrey was sure we was soon about to hear beeps and boops coming out of his boss’ mouth.
“Yes, sir! They’re on their way as quickly as they can get here!” replied Jeffrey. “There’s also two architects with vast amounts of knowledge on modern architecture! One is a relative of Frank Lloyd Wright!”
“Excellent! Excellent!” shouted Chairman Obelis. “Come join me and enjoy the sights while we wait!”
“The sights weren’t that enjoyable,” thought Jeffrey.
“Of course!” said Jeffrey. He jogged over to Chairman Obelis like a dog that hadn’t seen his owner in weeks, a stupidly-happy smile covering his entire face. Jeffrey was only an inch or two shorter than Chairman Obelis, but he had short dirty blonde hair that contrasted Chairman Obelis’ short, curly black hair.
“Remember what I told you about that silly “Teach a Man to Fish” quote, right?”
“Load of horseshit.”
“Yep! It’s complete horseshit, Jeffrey. Always remember that.”
Jeffrey put his arm around Chairman Obelis and Chairman Obelis put his arm around Jeffrey as they stared at the abandoned mining facility that will soon become their operation hub and the facility where the majority of their experiments will take place.
“Do you believe what you’re trying to do will actually work?” inquired Jeffrey.
Chairman Obelis removed his arm from Jeffrey and heavily pondered the question Jeffrey asked. Chairman Obelis knew it would be a difficult task even with his wealth, intelligence and overwhelming determination.
“I believe that as long as I am alive, there is a substantial chance that this will work and that we can save humanity from itself,” said Chairman Obelis. “I have done so many things in my life, but, Jeffrey, this means the absolute most to me! How many men can say that their work directly affected humanity?”
Chairman Obelis began to pace. “It can’t be much more than the fingers on our hands, Jeffrey. I want this to be my mark on humanity. I desperately want to save humanity so my mark can be remembered. This may be a sneaky approach to helping humanity, but we need to get dirty to help everyone get better.”
“But, sir, in all due respect, you have made numerous and incredible marks on humanity! There are so many people alive, and educated, because of your generosity! What more do you have to gain?”
A hefty voice bellowed from the nearby SUV, “He wants complete control and power – it is what every man wants that already has everything.” A short, brown man walked towards the pair. His weight made his white lab coat unable to close; the coat made noises as he walked since it brushed against his belly. Whoosh, whish, whoosh, whish.
Stitched into his white coat with red thread was the name “Dr. Takeo Silva.”
Chapter 9
Dirty, Smelly Business
“I am quite pleased for you to join the campaign, Doctor Silva. We needed a man like you at our side,” said Chairman Obelis as he handed a martini glass to Doctor Silva. Chairman Obelis took a quick whiff of his own martini. “It adds an aura of sophisticated, thorough science to the campaign. I appreciate your presence greatly.”
“It’s truly an honor, sir,” smiled Silva. Silva and Chairman Obelis clanked their glasses together and laughed, like they were best friends reuniting for the first time in decades. The olives lightly bounced around in each glass. “This is the good stuff. I haven’t had a martini this good since Chelsey was alive.”
“Who’s Chelsey?” asked Chairman Obelis. Of course, Chairman Obelis already knew that Chel
sey Donovan was Silva’s former lover and that she had died, but information regarding her life was scant. She was a nobody with a nobody job that the world was ready to forget, aside from Silva. “Was she important to you?”
“Chelsey was my,” he paused to sip from his martini glass to gather confidence, “Chelsey was my lover, my muse and – most importantly – my dearest friend.” A tear dropped from Silva’ left eye. “She inspired me to continue to pursue the cure for feline AIDS, as I was hesitant to harm any animals in the process – which was quite necessary for a cure.” Silva’s white lab coat had become stuck behind him in the chair and his shirt began to rise slowly. His impressive belly was revealed. He could set his martini glass on it if he wished it was so large.
“She’d tell me, ‘The lives of the many outweigh the lives of the few, my dear Takeo.’ Each animal life meant the world to me, and it meant the world to Chelsey too! At the time at least it did…” Chairman Obelis yawned loudly but Silva paid no mind. “She just kept telling me, ‘Takeo, these animals will not be sacrificed in vain! They will be the reason that cats can be free of feline AIDS. Their lives will have purpose.’ So I finally gave in and began the rigorous testing which required injecting the feline AIDS into hundreds of test subjects. Not to mention I had to remove enzymes and tissue from another hundred or so healthy test subjects. Cats, kittens and other, um, mammals … but I won’t bore you with those details, sir,” Silva finished his martini in a final gulp.
He removed a stained handkerchief from back pocket, dabbed his tears and placed the handkerchief back in the back pocket. Chairman Obelis was appalled by the use of handkerchief – not because of germs – but because it was quite out of style to actually use a handkerchief. However, Chairman Obelis marveled at the fat felinologist’s flexibility whilst retrieving the handkerchief.
“That’s interesting,” asked Chairman Obelis. “It takes courage to make the necessary sacrifices for the greater good.” Chairman Obelis smiled sympathetically at Silva. Chairman Obelis didn’t want this portly man to keep blubbering, but pressed on to gain more information, “What happened to Chelsey, if I may ask?”
Beast Machine Page 6