Monday, October 8, 2012

August 18



The Great Confession continues!  Yippee.
 
So I was discussing how the government was considering getting the explosives out from under our major cities.  That went right out the window once the Kalquorian Empire said, “Pretty please may we have some of your extra vaginas so we don’t go extinct?”  Holy Leader Copeland told his cabinet, “Leave those bombs right where they are.  Better we all die in the good graces of God than pollute his great creation with freaky alien DNA.”  Or something to that effect.

So the warheads stayed put.  And five years later when we declared war on the horny aliens, Mike got scared and told me all about those nukes.  He always shot off his mouth after he shot off his load.  It was like he had to unburden his conscience along with his balls.  I do not miss that prick. 

Ha!  I just realized what I wrote.  I meant I didn’t miss Mike himself, but I don’t miss that particular appendage he possessed either.  It’s only too bad I didn’t get to rip the damned thing off him before he vaporized along with the rest of Washington.

I swear to you, I really wanted to tell someone about the warheads after I found out.   It’s not that the war was going badly, not at all.  We were slowly overwhelming the Kalquorians simply because our numbers were so much more than theirs.  But Mike told me the War Secretary had secretly informed him that the aliens’ technology was way beyond ours.  Just one of their destroyers, if it got in a lucky shot, was actually capable of taking down one of our big, bad battlecruisers.  But with a ratio of ten cruisers for every one Kalquorian destroyer, superior technology wasn’t winning the day.

Still, when you’ve got an enemy that smart and that determined, you know the worst can easily happen.  All the Kalquorians had to do was get one of their ships past the defense grid and into the Bermuda or Dragon’s Triangle wormholes, and we were done.  Which was exactly what happened.

I should have told someone.  Somehow, I should have gotten the word out to the general population.  Nevermind I would have been killed by my government.  Nevermind most wouldn’t have believed a ‘hysterical’ or ‘sinful’ woman looking to make trouble as we have since Eve in the Garden of Eden.  Nevermind I have no idea what outlet would have gotten the true story told when all publications and vid agencies were state-run.  There had to have been a way.

In my defense, even Mike was terrified to open his mouth though he knew the dangers better than I.  He was part of Copeland’s cabinet, supposedly one of the untouchables where law and Church were concerned.  Untouchable, my ass.  Mike told me what would happen, and he had no reason to lie.

He said, “If I dared to speak of this, I would die.  Officially, the cause would be a sudden heart attack.  They’d give me a state funeral, and the Holy Leader himself would preside over the service.  It would be the event of the year, and few would know I’d actually been murdered.”  Mike looked at me, fear making white show all around his eyes.  “You know how they do it?  How they kill one of us if we turn on the Holy Leader?  I’d be put in a grav-field, laid down on a table.  Placed in semi-stasis so I couldn’t bleed out too fast.  So I would remain conscious for the whole thing.  Then they would ritually slice me open, my organs slowly removed until I was dead, right in front of the rest of the cabinet.  I’d be an example to them, to keep them in line.”

If an ‘untouchable’ was afraid to let billions of people know they were sitting on a pile of death, then how do you think I felt about my chances to stop Armageddon from happening?  But that doesn’t excuse me.  I knew and I’m still alive.  I didn’t tell and an unfathomable number of people are dead.  Hi guilt.  Sure, move right in.

It was an accident I wasn’t in Washington when it went up in a big mushroom cloud.  Mom’s condition was getting to the point where I couldn’t keep my job and watch over her too.  It was time to find an alternative to our living situation.

A media production position that wouldn’t have meant much of a pay cut had opened up at a government facility in Georgia.  It was close to where Mom had been born and grew up.  When she had her infrequent lucid spells, she wasn’t too thrilled about being put in assisted living.  Being able to go back to her hometown and still have me nearby made the bitter medicine a little easier to swallow though.  And getting out of Washington would get me away from Mike finally.  No more, “gimme what I want or I report you for lewdness”.  No more worrying about somebody seeing something they shouldn’t that would put me in a work camp.  I was actually looking forward to moving to the little southern town and away from the hectic pace of D.C.

I applied and got the job.  I was a month from transfer when I grabbed Mom on a bright June morning and we took a little jaunt down to Georgia to scout nursing homes.  Two days later, I’m interviewing the administrator for St. John’s Adult Community while Mom samples their arts and crafts class.  Suddenly, people start screaming.  We ran out of the administrator’s office (sorry, I forgot the guy’s name), and someone says, “We’ve been blown to smithereens and there are Kalquorian destroyers in our smoke-filled skies.”  And that was that.

So there you have it.  In the two months since the world most definitely ended with a bang (hundreds of bangs, if you must be accurate), everything about our society has disappeared.  Emergency services are gone.  Law enforcement is gone.  Gangs roam around at will, killing and looting and raping.  Kalquorians skulk about, no doubt looking for some surviving vaginas to impregnate.  Dantovonians fly through, inviting us to sign up for indentured work that will get us off our poisonous rock of a planet and put us back on our feet – no doubt after they’ve put us on our backs for awhile.  I’ve even heard rumors that Tragoom raiders have been seen, eating whatever they can find whether it be man or beast.

We are done.  Earth is dead.  And I helped put us in this position.  With everything that’s happening now, I will probably be just another body on the pile before long.  You might think it’s just what I deserve.  You’d be right.

All I can say at this point is I am so very sorry.  I really, truly am.  It’s not much, certainly not enough to make up for what I allowed to happen.  Even if I had said something and they’d shut me up before it got to anyone’s ears, at least I could have claimed I tried.  But I didn’t.  To my eternal shame, I didn’t even try.

I am so sorry.

Shalia Monroe

4 comments:

  1. Hello,

    I definitely want to see an eBook, I would most definitely buy it...


    Fern R.

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    Replies
    1. Hi Fern. I'll be addressing the ebook question on my regular blog on WIP Wednesday. So glad you're enjoying this!

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