After some dire weeks with steadily increasing pollution levels leading
to severe respiration difficulties for many, two days of rain had at least
cleared the skies a bit. Strange, upside down hanging doomsday clouds would
give off their load and disappear in under half an hour when their task was
apparently done. The resulting fine layer of orange dust which remained over
plants and streets alike was sold to the public as Sahara sands, though the
winds had been predominantly westerly. When the subterranean traveller checked
out on Neus Eddict again, once more watching planes laying new blankets in the
wonderfully old-fashioned clean air, he was in reasonably high spirits.
Neus had been reading all kinds of new things and was beginning to see
the larger picture, she told, and this information, as hard to swallow as it
was, was giving her the tranquillity of knowing what to expect. We are being
sprayed by aliens, is what she claimed. The pilots are humans, of course, most
likely American soldiers, but the program is clearly commissioned by
extraterrestrials. Neus looked completely earnest, not at all trying to be
smart or sound particularly unsettling.
So, what's it good for, then? the traveller asked joyously, the levels
of oxygen in the air putting an inerasable smile on his face.
Our demise, I'm afraid, answered Neus Eddict. They want us dead. They're
not interested in new smarties in the universe. So, before we can enter the
game they want to get rid of us. They must have been checking out on us for
some time when they decided to approach the europeans and the americans in the
nineteen thirties, them being in control of affairs clearly. Neus told how
aliens had been sharing technology with some of the more repressive regimes
they encountered, knowing and appreciating these new possibilities would be
used against the own and enemy populations of those regimes, and all this was
perceived as standard alien presence information.
But they can't do it without help, the traveller pointed out.
What's in it for our complying elites, you wonder? Salvation, of course,
in the underground hideouts which have been built the world all over or on Mars
or something, plus a vain believe they might one day hook up with our
destroyers and become part of the universal problem. Neus chuckling girlishly.
This is all going rather fast for me, the subterranean responded. I
mean, how do you know this information is correct?
I don't, admitted Neus with the broad grin her small face was
unexpectedly capable of. That is perhaps our biggest problem, isn't it? She was
smoking heavily from a hand-cut wooden pipe. We have no idea how far we've been
left behind since digitalisation made knowledge a tradable good. We don't know
what we're not supposed to know.
With some private knowledge on the side, I hope, the traveller erupted.
Neus put a hand on the subterranean's knee. Can you believe it possible,
she asked, pointing up at some sudden pitch black clouds on the once again hazy
blue sky, the relieve of clean air short-lived and an unseasonably cold fall
wind reminding them what such clouds were dragging along. Can you see the
american war machine creating this technology and then using it against the
human population? Do you perhaps need an alien in command, to render the story
more trustworthy?
Like you? But do you then, for real?
Neus Eddict held her answer back for as long as she deemed it
acceptable. What do I know, man, she let go. Again she touched the traveller. I
see the daily assault. And it doesn't look like it's going to stop soon, so I'm
wondering how many people will die from this? What are the aims? Couple of
billions, maybe all of them?
Have you thought of the possibility of a serious environmental disaster,
the subterranean traveller offered. Your methane story or perhaps a completely
vanished ozone layer, so that they have to do this to at least postpone the end
another while.
Methane's not a story, it's a very scary truth. Have you noticed how hot
the sun feels when she is shining through as she still sometimes is. That's not
an April sun.
Winter sun was also warmer this year.
There you have it. Not sure where her argument was leading, Neus handed
over her pipe and the traveller reluctantly took what he hoped would be an
unsubstantial drag. Neus then was watching him for a while. What's your name,
she suddenly demanded.
I have no name.
No name?
I'm known as the subterranean traveller, but there's no person behind
the word.
No person? Do you mean you don't exist?
Only as character.
Neus chewed on those words for a while. Is it possible to have uncompromising
sex with an empty character, she informed.
I would certainly think so.
She already had her arms around him. You don't mind me being older than
you?
I mind preciously few things about you, the subterranean came through.
It earned him a hot kiss. You are younger than most beyond age 25. A second
kiss, with a good grab in his crotch. The subterranean, as usual, felt slightly
awkward, though it was promising to know she still wanted him with the truth
out.
Neus led the traveller to her bedroom. I believe we are done for and
it's making me hot as hell. The traveller at that same moment did not want to
admit this whole weather modification madness was sucking all life's juices out
of his body. Just pretend everything is hunky dory and you will do all right,
he told himself.
After something of a performance they cruised the streets of Neus'
neighbourhood. It's so hard to look at people these days, commented Neus. Are
they blissfully unaware of what is happening above their heads? Are they too
afraid to speak out? What's going on with us?
The subterranean traveller had no answer. He was suffering from a severe
intelligence deficiency gap.
