Tag Archives: Brave New World

Not Tim Flannery

27 Jan

I have become an ardent anti-environmentalist, intent on exploiting all of our natural resources whatever the cost, devoted to reducing the planet to a cinder.  Of course this will pass, but it is a natural reaction that you will understand upon learning of Trevor’s efforts to establish his “Green” credentials.  I have always thought of myself as being suitably respectful of nature, and to be honest, I would be impressed by the proposals that had been made, if they had been made by anybody else.  (However, it is well known that I have no nose, having cut it off a long time ago to spite my face, among others.  My life has required a degree of inflexibility.)

The press release rightly points out the imbalances that exist in the natural order.  Food chains have been disrupted.  We have extinctions coinciding with population booms, chaotic event after chaotic event.  It all springs from our foundation as a pastoral and grazing society, which required the removal of natural vegetation, and the resultant diminution of the native species that fed upon it.

Now Trevor is going to do something about it.  Pan-humans are at the top of the food chain.  Most major native predators have been removed, their ecological niche taken by feral cats and foxes, who do a fairly pathetic job of it.

Unfortunately, many of those predators were unique to Glossolalia and are now gone.  Trev-gene are doing useful work which may see versions of them decanted any day soon, but until then, imported predators will have to do the job.

One cannot argue with the press release (after all, I wrote it).  Frankly, as a human being, it will be a relief not to be at the top of the food chain any more.  That will relieve a lot of the pressure.  Komodo dragons have already been released along rivers, where they will have to compete with introduced crocodiles.  I am a little nervous that tomorrow will see the arrival of the first container loads of lions and tigers for urban release, however I am assured that there are already many foxes living unseen in urban areas*.  Of course, all of the new arrivals are protected under strict environmental laws.  Its not that you cannot fight back if attacked, you just better make sure there is no evidence left when the police arrive, only slightly too late.

At least now I will be able to explain to myself the screams I hear in the night.  Perhaps I will even be able to return to sleep.

What if the spider woman suddenly decides she needs protecting?

***

*No wombats are to be introduced, they are too vicious.

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Not Abraham Lincoln

23 Sep

The War between the States appears to be over for the time being.  There have been less explosions lately, and we saw the Governors together on TV recently (oh yes, with the “Premier”, Truculence has to be different, Shires instead of Counties, Premiers instead of Governors, abbatoirs instead of hospitals) mingling with apparently genuine bonhomie.  Trevor was there in the background with Governor Chickenhawk in his Glossolalia tie.  I think they were playing golf or hangman,it was hard to tell as the picture was not good, for example all of their faces were bright red.

There is a disturbing aspect that I am surprised no internet conspiracy theorists have picked up on.  The State of Bliss has disappeared.  It is only a small State, and its boundaries have changed over the years with internecine warfare and the vagaries of the Border Institute’s decisions, however, now it is simply not there.  It is not just that the borders have shifted to incorporate it into other States, the landmarks, the landmass even, is missing from maps, even from Boogle-Earth.  There is weirdness and strange science at work here.  I am certain that Trevor has squirreled it away somewhere, with all of its 1112 residents.  I suspect a dual purpose in his machinations.  Firstly, he wants to experiment on Bliss.  Secondly, he wishes to force the other States to accept artificial substitutes for the natural products of Bliss.  Are those massive flags still hanging from monastery walls?  Is the Wheel of Life still being turned?  Why does no one notice, or care?

That a war could be fought over differences in railway gauges.  I can understand wars being fought over important issues, such as the results of football games, or slavery.  As a result of a unique legislative program in Glossolalia, “slavery” has been both outlawed and renamed.  There is no longer slavery in Glossolalia, but this is no cause for rejoicing.  Just as there is no longer nasty genetic modification of foods, but rather “cuddling”, now there is no slavery, but there is the popular cultural practice of “spooning”, which involves quaint forced labour and indentured servitude.

I personally do not believe in spooning, but who am I to force my beliefs on others whose culture is different to mine?  Recent (I’m fairly certain independent) surveys of the spooned indicate they are just glad to be out of The Horror, and are happy with the way their gametes are being treated by Trevgene.  That was reported on page 2.  On page 3 of the GLOSSolalian was one of the Trevgene Academy’s newest graduates.  I am not sure of the purpose of her modification, there is not a baby in existence that could suckle at those.  Though perhaps my understanding shall grow with the release of the next product line, who I understand will be the most efficient workers the States have ever seen, and who can subsist entirely on a diet of tabloids and milk.  Hurrah!  Perhaps then there will be no need for spooning, and it can be phased out over several centuries.  It is of course too structurally embedded to be removed at once.  Where would children’s football teams be without the spooning firms who pay for their uniforms?  What about the pensioners?  The bus that takes them to bingo is paid for by spooners.  No, unfortunately spooning is too inextricably linked with these major aspects of our economy to be easily removed.  Why, one could more easily try to control problem gambling, or appropriately tax mining companies.

Not Aldous Huxley

12 Sep

On returning from some minor surgery in Gaza, I was pleased to find a new bunch of catalogues awaiting me.  I find it pleasant to wile away a few moments over a cup of tea, examining fresh fashion atrocities and descriptions of new motion pictures that I cannot be bothered to see, and of course I wanted to test my new eyes.

I should not have been surprised to find the latest catalogue from Trevgene.  We are a clever bunch in Glossolalia, with much of our economy based around the latest developments in research and technology, as well as armaments and vegetarianism.  We don’t have the labour force to compete with our Chinese neighbours, and have to concentrate on working smarter, not just harder.  Or so I read in some book (or perhaps wrote in some job application, I forget, I have a very short look something shiny).

The new catalogue praised the wonders of a genetically enhanced workforce.  Once upon a time, I confess, I would have been appalled at such an idea, but recently (coincidentally, since I started drinking bottled Trevwater), I can see that I was simply being a fogey, an old fashioned reactionary.  Why leave it to nature to slowly and haphazardly alter your workforce, when Trevgene can breed your workers for you.  I flipped through the pages, amazed by the many colours they came in, and all of their enhancements.

It occurred to me that long ago, in the dim past, Huxley’s Brave New World would have been presented to impressionable youth as a dystopia.  Today I am sure it is taught in schools as a desirable goal, as a model to test ourselves against, and find ourselves lacking.  It is also a tragedy of course, a tragedy that Mr Savage was unable to adapt to the wonders of this brave new world.  I ain’t no Mr Savage, and I’m not an Epsilon minus sub moron.  No, they are being bottled and decanted as we speak across the river at the Trevgene facility.  I like my comfortable bed, I don’t desire to recline on any scrap heap.

For a moment my head hurt.  Then I saw that the catalogue came with a tiny sample sachet as a bonus, and I cheered.  After all, a gramme is better than a damn.