excerpt from THE LESSON


GENERAL PARTICULAR

In the peripheral vision of my right eye I glimpse a large hairy hand as it grips down upon my shoulder. This is what happens every time I go out without Space to watch my back.

“Mister Dvorak.”

My forward momentum combined with the hand there makes me spin in my tracks. As I am unhanded I turn to face a two star General dressed as a maint worker in blue hot lami’d coveralls. I recognize his face from the group at the Utah flesh fry.

“Mister Dvorak. I’ve got to talk to you.”

“Ok. Talk.”

“What I have to say is very important could you please turn off your suit? I’d like this to be off the record.”

“Oh my suits not on.” I’m very casual.

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not.”

“Is.”

“Isn’t”

“Is. I can see that it’s on. It just went ‘boop’”

.

“That wasn’t me.”

“My coveralls say your suit is on.”

“Well turn off your coveralls.”

“You turn off your suit first.”

“You first.”

“You won’t be sorry. Believe me you really do want to hear what I want to tell you. But I don’t want your suit to overhear.”

“But your coveralls can hear? It’s okay for them to listen in but not my suit.? General I know you’re monitored.”

“Ssshh don’t call me that! I’m not Gen…” He whispers. “You are mistaken Mister Dvorak. My name is Sam. Sam the maint guy. I am just Sam. Call me Sam.” Sam I am….green suits eat spaceham.

“Ok General Sam.” He cringed. “I’ll turn off my suit now. The master tab is in here though…in a sec…down in there…ah there it is.” My suit went dead. The flashing boop-ing lami pocket data flaps faded. “Now turn off your coveralls.” After some squirming his ID ‘maint Sam’ faded and went dark. For all I know his pants were off, though he could have merely hit the dimmer tab as I did. I have no doubt we were being monitored in many other unknown ways. This is after all the popular Retro Nozzle Pub on Balance.

 General ‘Sam’ leads me to one of the half EG 4D padded booths in the back. The décor of this booth is reminiscent of an antique orbital capsule interior, this being of course a retro theme bar. I bring my Marstini.

“You have friends on our side.” He confides.

“I do? Side of what?”

“Yes. We got you into the PACSA demo. We keep Major Savage in our loop. We watch out for her. There is a lot going on in the third echelon of the military counter to the Smith Smolt power clique.” What a mouthful.

General maint guy Sam kept his hands on the table. I remember him and his pals in Utah, they had the ostracized look of alien EXTINT about them. They stood by while the Mathers Carp crew kicked us out.

“There are some who don’t want them to succeed. We will help you all we can.”

“Succeed at what?”

“It’s Gentech with what’s left of Intellicorp and AIOOIA. They want a war. They’re out to start a war. A big one. A total planetary solar system war. They want to overthrow the civilian popular Government and create a militaristic totalitarian regime.” It has been done before.

“Through the threat of aliens?”

“They don’t care about aliens!”

“How will they get the Government to where it can be defeated?”

“They don’t need to defeat it directly. They want complete technological superiority.”

“What do you mean?”

“They are planning a techno war. First an info coup then subjugation by technical means.”

“Meaning?”

“Artificial intelligent bipedal humobotic weapon platforms backed by self-sustaining deathbots that can refuel from any carbon source.”

“Blast and suck?”

“That too but skip the suck.”

“Why are you telling me about this?”

“They must be stopped. You must stop them.”

“Me! What can I do? I haven’t made my report yet. My Librarian is missing. I don’t have an army.”

“Expose them and then the Government will have to act. A Senior Researchers report is history. They will read it.”

“Yeah ancient history. Researchers don’t stop wars we document old wars, usually.”

“Expose their threat.”

Three more maint guys came into the bar and looked pointedly towards our booth. General Sam saw them too.

“I have to go now. You didn’t turn your suit off did you? I didn’t think you really would.”

“Well I …ah…”

“Farewell Dvorak. I’ll keep in touch. We’ll help you all we can. But beware, Smith has many friends inside and outside the military. Trust no one. Even me.”

“Even you?” as if I ever did.

“I didn’t turn off my pants either. Those guys there mean trouble is coming…I gotta go.”

“Bye General er Sam.”

He and his three maint pals left by the fire exit door to the utility corridor as six uniformed weapons systems packing square head types came in the front. They ignored me while they crowded the bar ordering up soft drinks.

Genitech is another huge anonymous manipulative interplanetary corporation. I encountered them at the periphery of my rogue canned-plus research. Its subsidiary Boisebryo is suspected by Chevrolet of being responsible for the numerous Wilson Phillips’s and recent Philip Wilson’s. Genitech is listed as a privately held corp with hints that it is owned mostly by AIOOIA and Intellicorp. I think Sue Virtue works for them now.

So the military is split again. This time by friends and followers of ex General Smith and those that oppose him. I should send my new friends some entertaining new vids featuring Smith Smolt and Carp. They should see what they are really up against.

Why would a company like Genitech push for war? New markets for limbs and organs? Fleshy practice targets? Grow your own soldiers? Yeah…all the above.