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Ruminations
on Power and Cheap Chicken
-same?
-methods, yes.
Materials, no.
-materials can
change the methods.
-no doubt at
all about that.
-so this is
not going to be an episode in futility?
-well futility
is always waiting near the finish line.
-but in the
meanest of times, we aren't going to get all demapped as soon as we
unroll?
-our
propaganda investments are strong, on message. Already feeding into the
inflated egos of the locals. Whispering into their earsets as they settle
into sleep, nightmares of the ever-involving and evolving others, plus
dreams of their final conquering.
-a bit on the
nose.
-we have some
good car chases and semi-ironic chatting in bars and alleys. Hide some
more subtle suggestions to obedience and particular trade policies.
-I've heard
good things about pre-packaged grassroots collapse.
-out of our
price range.
-I wondered
when we were going to run up against that wall.
-oh, I still
guarantee a few seasons before they begin to waver and demand results.
-and that's
when the gates must open, to see us holding the carrot or the stick.
-well
considering the level of our liquidity, we have no choice at this point
but to talk to the rabbits.
-ah.
-for the
foreseeable future, we are to be loved instead of feared.
-you are
certain that we cannot find some thugs that will take a small slice of
land and people as payment to keep said people docile?
-none that I
would trust to not soon try putting their boots upon our own throats.
-a religious
take, then. I will gladly put on robes and say a few words with a blood
and thunder tone if that would make them cower and defer.
-local polling
has shown god is no longer commanding the fear he once did. Some genuine
miracles or unexplainable disasters would be require to drop the rabbles'
iq a sufficient amount of points.
-you are
really popping all my balloons.
-and you are
really resisting our most practical and let's be honest only option of at
least temporarily giving the masses exactly what they want. Why do you not
want them to love you?
-love takes
time. And time is a precious commodity.
-as is love.
-then what's
the point if we're just exhausting limited resources to create more
limited resources?
-because if
they love you, then they will forgive you the first time that you hurt
them. And the second. And maybe even the third. And hopefully by then
they'd have grown complacent enough that they won't have noticed that you
stopped loving them long ago and that there are now obedient, mindless
foot soldiers marching the streets.
-yes, yes of
course, I see, I know, but...
-the energy.
-yes.
-dragging you
down.
-beneath the
waves, the water pushing down into my throat, infecting me.
-think how
much more you could accomplish if you pushed these thoughts out of your
mind.
-'the less you
know'.
-'the more
you'll never stop'.
-but we are
now at the gate where the mantras shrivel up and die.
-right. Of
course.
-the time is
now.
-okay. Love.
-yes.
-I must love.
I must care. I must show these things convincingly. I must. I can do this.
I am true and one.
And with that
I close my eyes and breathe in that thought and let it become a feeling
that pushes from my heart and groin outwards.
My advisor
slips into either the shadows or back into my mind, I forget how real they
actually were, how much of an impulse or well-read devil's advocate.
But I know the
moment of truth is at hand. The responsibility of a nation with
ill-defined borders is the slippery fish that has jumped into my boat, and
instead of whacking it with an oar, I have to feed it the finest glow
worms and rock it to sleep.
I walk down
the cavernous hall and am about to enter the courtyard, where I will make
the first pronouncements-
-AH-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK!
Fuck me.
Terrible memories come flooding back. I freeze for a moment, considering
whether to turn around, rip off my designer uniform and run naked for the
hills.
Instead I rush
into the courtyard and yell:
-what the hell
is he doing here?!
To no one
apparently. The gazebos are destroyed, the tables all overturned, the
feast strewn across the ground, and all my senior advisors lying horribly
managed in deep pools of their own blood. And trying to feebly flap away,
as if I caught them red-handed and could actually do something about it,
was a Cheap Chicken.
-AH-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK!
I wince in
pain at the terrible volume of its cry. A three-storey, semi-plastic
atrocity, a grand mistake of living advertising, a massive bird that looks
like it had been perfectly painted a pleasant baby blue. It's wings not
strong enough to get it off the ground despite being proportionally the
same to the average chicken. Something about its unreal insides means it
can't do the things you would assume it could.
But it
certainly was able to be angry, confused, and step thoughtlessly on dozens
of powerful and influential people that I was prepared to rely heavily
upon to make my rule over the people beyond these walls a successful one.
-you son of a
bitch! I scream at it, not knowing if it could hear me.
-AH-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK!
I'm grinding
my teeth in pain at this sound. I don't know how it got here, or what it's
going to do, or really, how it was created by an overeager public
relations company in the first place. Makes you doubt the fabric of this
very reality, but I always get more philosophical with my hands over my
ears.
-AH-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK!
I struggle to
get closer and notice that it's favouring its left leg, that it's almost
trying to hop around, and thanks to that I see the problem. Why it's still
kicking up such a fuss.
A giant shard
of windowpane is sticking almost perfectly up its bottom, clearly the
cause of great pain to a sensitive area. Where did that happen? There are
no glass structures in the courtyard, so it must have arrived like that.
But then it
turns towards me and its beady blue eyes lock on to me, and I can't read
them well, I don't know if they’re full of pleading desperation, hoping
that I could somehow help it, or if the feeling is one of great anger and
rage, blaming every living creature around for its pain.
-AH-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK!
Taking several
steps towards the Cheap Chicken, I hope that I am not the only one who
chose love this afternoon.
END
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