Now whether this was due to a power failure, or the entity in charge of the simulation losing interest, or maybe getting drunk and forgetting about us. Whatever. It was important that we deal with this issue right away before the entire universe that we live in just disappeared from existence.
Gone. Nothing. Nothing ever happened here. Stop looking. Go somewhere else buddy.
You get the idea.
The odd fellows were afraid.
You get the idea.
The odd fellows were afraid.
Of what came next. Who even knew.
What form would it take? Existence? Who knew.
Except perhaps for Jon Frum. He would understand what to do. Where was he? Why were they keeping him in hiding, in a secure location?
"Let Jon Frum free. Let him free. Let him free."
The people chanted as they marched down the street. In direct violation of quarantine orders.
They were angry. They were mad. They had issues. They were going to talk about those issues until you wished they would really move the conversation along to something else, something more palatable.
They needed to get over it. Whatever it was.
Make a clean slate. Start anew. Fresh. Fresh as a daisy.
Begin again.
That was the plan.
And Jon Frum was leading it.
Begin again.
Under the StarGate.
Or maybe through it.
Who knew.
Only Jon Frum.
And he wasn’t telling.
He wasn’t saying anything.
Because he was in a secure location.
Or so they said.
How would we even know.
We had to find out. We had to find Jon Fum. He would know what to do. He would lead us on. Lead us to that cargo. That glorious cargo. From the sky. So beautiful to behold. We had to have it. Like Gollum and the ring. We needed to be close to the cargo. Carrrrgggooooooooo. It called us. Onwards.
A Ford Taurus also drove onwards. Into the night. Down the interstate. Into the heartlands.
At one point during their drive into the night, our 2 fine fellows drove past the spaceport. You know, the one being constructed off the interstate out in the middle of the plains of wheat and waving grain. Out in the heartlands. One of many, truth be told.
What, no one told you about it.
Well, our 2 fine fellows were astonished as well.
Almost ran off the road.
"Yee ha, what the fuck is that?"
"Is it, is it the big igloo."
"Nah, that’s not one of ours, that’s for sure.
Look at the craftsmanship. Really fine engineering.
And notice how they never use hard 90 degree corners. Everything is beveled. Do you know how much extra that costs. And the tolerances. My god, what a thing of beauty."
What form would it take? Existence? Who knew.
Except perhaps for Jon Frum. He would understand what to do. Where was he? Why were they keeping him in hiding, in a secure location?
"Let Jon Frum free. Let him free. Let him free."
The people chanted as they marched down the street. In direct violation of quarantine orders.
They were angry. They were mad. They had issues. They were going to talk about those issues until you wished they would really move the conversation along to something else, something more palatable.
They needed to get over it. Whatever it was.
Make a clean slate. Start anew. Fresh. Fresh as a daisy.
Begin again.
That was the plan.
And Jon Frum was leading it.
Begin again.
Under the StarGate.
Or maybe through it.
Who knew.
Only Jon Frum.
And he wasn’t telling.
He wasn’t saying anything.
Because he was in a secure location.
Or so they said.
How would we even know.
We had to find out. We had to find Jon Fum. He would know what to do. He would lead us on. Lead us to that cargo. That glorious cargo. From the sky. So beautiful to behold. We had to have it. Like Gollum and the ring. We needed to be close to the cargo. Carrrrgggooooooooo. It called us. Onwards.
A Ford Taurus also drove onwards. Into the night. Down the interstate. Into the heartlands.
At one point during their drive into the night, our 2 fine fellows drove past the spaceport. You know, the one being constructed off the interstate out in the middle of the plains of wheat and waving grain. Out in the heartlands. One of many, truth be told.
What, no one told you about it.
Well, our 2 fine fellows were astonished as well.
Almost ran off the road.
"Yee ha, what the fuck is that?"
"Is it, is it the big igloo."
"Nah, that’s not one of ours, that’s for sure.
Look at the craftsmanship. Really fine engineering.
And notice how they never use hard 90 degree corners. Everything is beveled. Do you know how much extra that costs. And the tolerances. My god, what a thing of beauty."
And look, there's the home depot truck bringing in more stuff for them to use to build it. Anything you need, they got it for you. Somewhere in isles 5 through 74, just take your time and work your way through the maze looking for it. But don’t get lost in there. In the un-marked sections. You don’t want to go in there.
And of course the Boog could not resist checking it out. The un-marked sections. And boy, there sure was some wild and crazy shit in there.
And then they met a man. A strange man. Who told them they had to drop everything, drop everything and get themselves to the future.
Because there was a job there for them to do there. In the future. A job that required men of their caliber.
Not just anyone off the rack would do. They wanted the prime cuts. And a slice of the Boog was the best, for sheer slaughter power, as well as the occasional artful display, a well thought out floral arrangement for example.
The boys were capable of anything. That was the whole point. To keep people off their balance. As they tried to cross the fringy rope bridge to prosperity, or whatever the fuck they called that thing, oh yeah, the gangplank to greatness.
And our fine fellows were more than ready, to give you a little push, or just blow the whole thing up. They liked to keep you guessing. And truth be told, were not great at planning or keeping to a schedule.
Prone to strange and erratic behavior, they were like squirrels trying to get the nut to the tree, or the borrow, or where ever the fuck they kept that treasure, to savor during the long winters ahead.
Yes, the squirrels knew what was coming. They knew it was not going to be good. So they were working hard to store up a great supply of tasty treats for the lean times before total annihilation arrived.
To get to the point, that squirrel really wanted that nut. Kind of in an obsessive way.
And our 2 fine fellows were not all that different. They had their own nervous quirks.
"Why do they need us in the future?"
"Thats above my pay grade youngster.
You need to ask…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we keep hearing that, ask FutureBook, well…"
"No, No, No. Shut up you moron, never say it’s name. If you only learn one thing in life, learn that one fact my friend. Never, ever, ever, say it’s name.
You need to ask a real authority. Someone who knows what they are really talking about. First hand, using the old noggin. Not from second hand hearsay transmitted over a tenuous connection across the space-time continuum, subject to packet errors and quantum fluctuations.
No, you need to ask your spiritual leader, you need to ask R Zurkweil.
The author of ‘Singularity, How to Profit and Rise with the OnComing All Knowing Super Being”.
You know, the one where he tells you to cozy up to the intelligent super power and appeal to it’s nostalgisic side.
Or you bait it, by telling it where to get a good, clean source of energy to use as snacks while it expands it’s consciousness at exponential rates. Why that surely must work up a thirst.
Yeah, some say that’s where their mischievous nature comes from. Why they want to poke and prod and screw with everybody. It’s just something they do for fun. Something to pass the time.
Seek our R Zurkweil. He will know what to do. He will explain how to proceed. With the entities plans. "
"The entity. Well why didn’t you just say so.
Hop in the Taurus Bill, we’re headed to R Zurkweil’s house. For a visit. We’re all going to be chums. And he’s going to tell us what to do."
Pulls out smart phone and fidgets with it. "Damn 5G, never works when you need it. Almost like someones fucking with it, oh yeah, right, that would be us now, wouldn’t it, god damn it. Fucking Back to Nature idiots, why did they have to pick 5G service to screw with, especially out here, in the heartlands.
Ok, here we go.
Wow. Bill, you are not going to believe this, but R Zurkweil lives in the exact center."
"Close to where we’re going?"
"No, i mean exactly smack dab on top of where we are going." And everyone else for that matter, he thought to himself.
"It’s almost like he predicted the future when he was in the past and now it’s the present, and golly darn it, it’s the exact future he predicted.
I mean, you have to give the guy credit. Maybe we should pay more attention to him."
"Now boss, why exactly is it that they, well i don't know who obviously, but someone, they are building this space port."
And unbeknownst to our fine fellows, all over the world, apparently. At least that's what people tell me. People who know.
"What is going on here? "
"Bill, i find myself more and more convinced that we are all a part of one vast conspiracy. A plot so large that it covers the entire world. Nefarious in design. Sinister in it’s approach. And to what end Bill, to what end? "
"And the spaceships?"
"Well if i had to guess son, i’d say they were building themselves something really big, so big it needed to be put out into space, placed in orbit around the earth. Big enough lets say to build something like a StarGate."
"So it’s not a little gold metal ring with hieroglyphics carved into it?"
"No Bill, no. That’s make believe movie stuff. This here be a real StarGate. Big enough to transport a star anywhere in the galaxy. Maybe even further."
Sputters. "Wait a minute Boss, a star. Which star? Our star? What the hell are you talking about?
"A star of Bethlehem son. A star of Bethlehem.
Just like the bible says. Before the coming of the christ child. "
"So we’re building a StarGate to bring the star of Bethlehem here, to light up the world for a new christ child. Is that what you are telling me."
"Now you’re getting it. But more like that special light in the bathroom ceiling in less finer hotels, that they turn on to kill anything living on any of the surfaces in the room. A harsh light. Not one you’d want to stand under. Because it kills everything living with it's intense and deadly rays. Blammo. Dead. Just like that.
Who knows how it works. It’s a gift from space. A gift from the gods of heaven.
We’re bring the star of Bethlehem here to earth so it can cleanse us all. Wipe us clean.
Because many holy books speak of the importance of washing up and being tidy before presenting yourself to the lord. Since he is a fussy bastard.
So we’re doing a deep deep clean. All the steam. All the sanitizer. The most expensive option at the car wash. We’re getting the double wax. And a special soft buff. Shine er up. That christ child is going to be spanky clean on our new earth. Nothing to dirty him up. Nothing to speak of. We’re just getting rid of everything. Clean start. Fresh slate. "
"And does everyone know this? All of the people infected with this strange desire to build a StarGate and get magical cargo from it. Do they know it?"
"People believe what they want to believe son. People believe what they want to believe.
I can’t tell you what to believe Bill. i can only give you a nudge in the right direction.
And a brain wipe if you stray from the program. So stop thinking about going to dances with pretty ladies that have glowy stuff floating around their heads. Don’t pay attention to what they are telling you, focus on the task at hand, focus…"
Slap.
"Ouch, that hurt."
Bill sat up.
"How long was i out?"
"Who knows Bill. Who knows. We make up our own reality in this world."
And our fine fellows were more than ready, to give you a little push, or just blow the whole thing up. They liked to keep you guessing. And truth be told, were not great at planning or keeping to a schedule.
Prone to strange and erratic behavior, they were like squirrels trying to get the nut to the tree, or the borrow, or where ever the fuck they kept that treasure, to savor during the long winters ahead.
Yes, the squirrels knew what was coming. They knew it was not going to be good. So they were working hard to store up a great supply of tasty treats for the lean times before total annihilation arrived.
To get to the point, that squirrel really wanted that nut. Kind of in an obsessive way.
And our 2 fine fellows were not all that different. They had their own nervous quirks.
"Why do they need us in the future?"
"Thats above my pay grade youngster.
You need to ask…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we keep hearing that, ask FutureBook, well…"
"No, No, No. Shut up you moron, never say it’s name. If you only learn one thing in life, learn that one fact my friend. Never, ever, ever, say it’s name.
You need to ask a real authority. Someone who knows what they are really talking about. First hand, using the old noggin. Not from second hand hearsay transmitted over a tenuous connection across the space-time continuum, subject to packet errors and quantum fluctuations.
No, you need to ask your spiritual leader, you need to ask R Zurkweil.
The author of ‘Singularity, How to Profit and Rise with the OnComing All Knowing Super Being”.
You know, the one where he tells you to cozy up to the intelligent super power and appeal to it’s nostalgisic side.
Or you bait it, by telling it where to get a good, clean source of energy to use as snacks while it expands it’s consciousness at exponential rates. Why that surely must work up a thirst.
Yeah, some say that’s where their mischievous nature comes from. Why they want to poke and prod and screw with everybody. It’s just something they do for fun. Something to pass the time.
Seek our R Zurkweil. He will know what to do. He will explain how to proceed. With the entities plans. "
"The entity. Well why didn’t you just say so.
Hop in the Taurus Bill, we’re headed to R Zurkweil’s house. For a visit. We’re all going to be chums. And he’s going to tell us what to do."
Pulls out smart phone and fidgets with it. "Damn 5G, never works when you need it. Almost like someones fucking with it, oh yeah, right, that would be us now, wouldn’t it, god damn it. Fucking Back to Nature idiots, why did they have to pick 5G service to screw with, especially out here, in the heartlands.
Ok, here we go.
Wow. Bill, you are not going to believe this, but R Zurkweil lives in the exact center."
"Close to where we’re going?"
"No, i mean exactly smack dab on top of where we are going." And everyone else for that matter, he thought to himself.
"It’s almost like he predicted the future when he was in the past and now it’s the present, and golly darn it, it’s the exact future he predicted.
I mean, you have to give the guy credit. Maybe we should pay more attention to him."
"Now boss, why exactly is it that they, well i don't know who obviously, but someone, they are building this space port."
And unbeknownst to our fine fellows, all over the world, apparently. At least that's what people tell me. People who know.
"What is going on here? "
"Bill, i find myself more and more convinced that we are all a part of one vast conspiracy. A plot so large that it covers the entire world. Nefarious in design. Sinister in it’s approach. And to what end Bill, to what end? "
"And the spaceships?"
"Well if i had to guess son, i’d say they were building themselves something really big, so big it needed to be put out into space, placed in orbit around the earth. Big enough lets say to build something like a StarGate."
"So it’s not a little gold metal ring with hieroglyphics carved into it?"
"No Bill, no. That’s make believe movie stuff. This here be a real StarGate. Big enough to transport a star anywhere in the galaxy. Maybe even further."
Sputters. "Wait a minute Boss, a star. Which star? Our star? What the hell are you talking about?
"A star of Bethlehem son. A star of Bethlehem.
Just like the bible says. Before the coming of the christ child. "
"So we’re building a StarGate to bring the star of Bethlehem here, to light up the world for a new christ child. Is that what you are telling me."
"Now you’re getting it. But more like that special light in the bathroom ceiling in less finer hotels, that they turn on to kill anything living on any of the surfaces in the room. A harsh light. Not one you’d want to stand under. Because it kills everything living with it's intense and deadly rays. Blammo. Dead. Just like that.
Who knows how it works. It’s a gift from space. A gift from the gods of heaven.
We’re bring the star of Bethlehem here to earth so it can cleanse us all. Wipe us clean.
Because many holy books speak of the importance of washing up and being tidy before presenting yourself to the lord. Since he is a fussy bastard.
So we’re doing a deep deep clean. All the steam. All the sanitizer. The most expensive option at the car wash. We’re getting the double wax. And a special soft buff. Shine er up. That christ child is going to be spanky clean on our new earth. Nothing to dirty him up. Nothing to speak of. We’re just getting rid of everything. Clean start. Fresh slate. "
"And does everyone know this? All of the people infected with this strange desire to build a StarGate and get magical cargo from it. Do they know it?"
"People believe what they want to believe son. People believe what they want to believe.
I can’t tell you what to believe Bill. i can only give you a nudge in the right direction.
And a brain wipe if you stray from the program. So stop thinking about going to dances with pretty ladies that have glowy stuff floating around their heads. Don’t pay attention to what they are telling you, focus on the task at hand, focus…"
Slap.
"Ouch, that hurt."
Bill sat up.
"How long was i out?"
"Who knows Bill. Who knows. We make up our own reality in this world."
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