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Updated Sunday 18 July, 2010 12:11 PM |
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SNAKE OIL
By Doctor What
Chapter Seven Money won't buy happiness, but it will pay the salaries of a large research staff to study the problem. - Bill Vaughan *** February 7, 2017
Isaac Eudhin looked down at the flyer in his hand one more time and then – with obvious great reluctance – let go of the flyer.
It landed on the sidewalk and was almost instantly snatched away by a gust of wind.
The wind clawed at it and pulled it high into the sky, causing it for the briefest of moments to be silhouetted against the Manhattan skyline.
A speed reader with extraordinarily good eyesight, if they happened to be looking up at that precise instant, would have been able to read the flyer;
Alone?
Lost?
Unsure of your Place in the Universe?
Looking for Something More?
Wondering what to make of the Visitors?
Come and be ENLIGHTENED!
The message written on it was simple, vague, almost Spartan – but for Isaac, it had appeared as either a Word from God or yet another Message from the Loonies.
Which one is was—Isaac had no idea.
But he was going to find out.
Taking one long deep breath, Isaac stepped through the front door…
The Community Center he had walked into was rather large.
It also seemed to be a maze of corridors.
Idiot! Had to let go of that flyer! The room number for the meeting was on that! I...I think it was…room 123…
Knocking on Room 123, Isaac leaned back and nervously tapped his foot.
The door opened a few seconds later, revealing a short, skinny, swarthy man of about fifty years old or so. He had a massive afro of black hair along with a scraggly goatee—black as well but with streaks of shockingly white hair.
He had a look of what could only be described as Complete Serenity.
The white robe he was wearing probably added to the whole ‘serenity’ thing.
On either side were two….assistants? students? acolytes?... similarly dressed in white robes.
The two guides were rather attractive females in the early twenties – just a bit older than Isaac – and were standing there with absolute beatific smiles on their faces.
Even Isaac with his…limited…experience in such matters, could tell that the women did not appear to be wearing very much beneath their robes.
Blushing, Isaac cleared his throat.
“Excuse me but is this the meeting for the Lytasians’ Companions?”
The bearded man smiled.
“Oh, I’m sorry. You have the wrong room. This is the Raëlian meeting. You want Room 132.”
“Ah. Apologies Mister….uh….Father…er…?”
“Lomagno. Sebastiano Lomagno. And you may refer to me as Guide instead of Mister. There is no need for such archaic terminology here.”
“Ummmmm….okay…”
“Would you like to join us? We’re always looking for new recruits. Say…you look kind of cute….”
“Uhhhhh….” stuttered Isaac, backing quickly away from the apparently crazed man. “No thank you! Sorry to disturb you! I’ll just be going on my way!” said Isaac as he practically sprinted down the corridor.
The goateed man simply shrugged his shoulders and turned around and walked back into the room and shut the door behind him.
A moment later there were the sounds of giggling.
Female giggling.
Lots of it.
Isaac looked at the room number.
Room 132.
This is it…
He walked in.
There were about a dozen or so others in the room, sitting on various second hand chairs, facing the front of the room.
All of them had the same look – one that Isaac was certain he had on his face as well.
This vague sense of … displacement.
Like they were living in the world but not really in the world.
Confused. Frustrated. Completely clueless about what they wanted to do with their life.
Isaac was fairly certain that was the reason … well, one of the reasons … why he was failing university.
Isaac didn’t consider himself naïve …well, maybe just a bit naïve…but he knew that he wasn’t the first nor even be the last university student to feel that way. There were dozens of religions that he could have looked over here in New York if he was lacking spiritual meaning in his life.
But he felt like he was missing something more…something that could make things in his life make some kind of sense.
A woman walked into the room and confidently walked to the front of the room.
Putting her handbag down, she turned to face the assembled crowd. And smiled.
“Are you seeking enlightenment?”
There were a few vaguely acknowledging nods and grunts.
“Well—I don’t have it!”
Several very confusing gasps.
The woman grinned again.
“But I may have something almost as good—a reason to get up every morning for the rest of your life…”
Isaac leaned forward and listened as the woman began to speak….
“I bring you the truth!” bellowed the man, as the crowds hurriedly brushed past him, giving him a very quick glance before turning quickly away.
Even by Time’s Square standards of crazed lunatics standing on a soapbox shouting conspiracy theories, the college-aged man in the dirty jeans and t-shirt was…unique.
Not in appearance…but in what he was offering as the ‘truth’.
“They’re fake! All of them! It’s a hoax! The whole Lytasian ‘First Contact’,” – and the man actually made quote marks with his fingers as he said the phrase – “is a hoax! A hoax perpetuated by those in real power! They used special effects to make us THINK that they exist! Everything—the aliens, the ships, the media messages—EVERTHING – is all FAKE! A GIGANTIC hoax to fool the nations of the world! A conspiracy that involves the willing cupa…cupabili…uh…that involves the willing use of the so-called leaders of the world! Why you ask? Why you ask?”
The crazed man scanned the crowd of people near him.
There was a definite lack of people asking.
“WHY YOU ASK?” he shouted. “To lull us into a sense of false comfort! So that we may buy their so-called ‘alien’ technology and take their ‘vaccines’,” –another set of air quotes – “ and all the rest of it! And that’s when it happens! When the REAL plan occurs!”
A passing man –obviously a tourist (the twelve cameras around his neck, the shirt emblazoned with the logo ‘Somebody I know went to New York City and all I got was the lousy t-shirt’ and the NYPD cap were subtle hints) –decided, in spite of himself, to take the bait.
Leaning his head to one side and grinning, the man asked, “Ok—what’s the REAL plan, mac?”
“Total control of the whole world through their evil brainwashing methods! They will use the so-called alien technology to implant subliminal messages into our brains! And the vaccines that will ‘cure’--” –more air quotes—“ - our ‘diseases’ and ‘ailments’ and ‘conditions’-“ - a plethora of air quotes that almost decapitated a passing pigeon – “will have done their work on us and turn the whole population into their mindless slaves to do their bidding! We will become a world of mindless consumers! Spewing out their propaganda! Buying their goods! Acting like sheep! And making those who hold the reins of power ever more powerful!”
The tourist rolled his eyes.
“Oh Jeez—don’t tell me? The Jews? The Illuminati? The Catholics?”
“Ha! Those groups are mere pawns of the True Masters!”
“Then who?”
“I speak of the most evil and perverted and DIABOLICAL group in all of creation!”
“And……?”
“They are…dramatic pause…the Rosicrucians!”
The tourist rolled his eyes again
“It’s true, I tell you!” shouted the crazed man.
The tourist shook his head, clearly bemused.
“That has to be the craziest—wait—did you actually say ‘dramatic pause’?”
“It’s true!” shouted the crazed man again.
“I know I’m going to regret asking this but –how do you know this?”
“My uncle told me! He discovered the truth!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake…”
“You laugh now! But just you see! They’re setting their plan into motion as we speak! But their plan can be stopped!”
The tourist, who had been turning to leave, stopped and turned back.
“Oh this should be good. Why is it that they could be stopped?”
“Because in their arrogance they neglected to take the most basic of precautions!”
“Which is?”
“They have no back-up plan! NO BACK-UP PLAN!!”
With a quiet muttered ‘Marone’, the tourist turned and walked away, leaving the crazed man alone again….
“You feel alone, don’t you?” said the woman, staring at the assembled group.
There were several nods.
“You wish to be a part of something bigger, don’t you? Something meaningful?”
Many nods this time.
“The Lytasians came here offering hope. But what have we offered them?”
Several confused looks.
“They want to help us. Uplift us. Encourage us to fulfill our potential. But what are they getting in return?”
Many confused looks. A few shrugs.
“Nothing! We are treating them as merely a source of materials. As a source of technology. As a source of goods. Like they were nothing better than mere… mere… salesmen!”
There were still many confused looks but one of two of them had…the glimmerings of understanding.
“Is THAT how we treat our benefactors? Those who offered so much to us?” The woman stared at the collected group.
“NO!” she shouted, causing one or two to jump back.
“But….” continued the woman, “it doesn’t have to be that way…we can offer them something more…”
The crazed man packed up his bags and buttoned up his coat against the damp cold.
Fools! None of them believe me!
Just like all the others!
But just you wait!
I’ll keep trying! Yes! Yes I will!
“What can we offer, you ask?” asked the woman.
She stared at each one of the assembled crowd-- questioning, inquiring, searching;
Isaac carefully lifted up an arm.
“Yes! You! What can we offer?”
“Ourselves…..? Our…companionship…?”
The woman broke into a wide grin.
“Yes! Exactly! How did you guess so quickly?”
“Errr...cause the name of the group is called the Lytasians’ Companions…?”
“Exactly! We will treat the Lytasians with the support and respect that are due to them! We will stop these ugly rumours spread by small and petty people about the intentions of the Lytasians! We will make sure that people understand the true nature of the Lytasians—that they are NOT simply friendly aliens offering us technology but rather something much, much more!”
“And that is?” asked a young brunette female in the front.
“Emissaries! Our spiritual guides! Our salvation! Our very future!” shouted the woman, grinning and spreading her arms…
The crazed man walked into his apartment, rubbing his hands to warm them up.
Taking off his coat, he pushed his way through all the newspapers and magazines he had scattered about the small one room place and carefully navigated his way to the couch.
He flopped down on the old couch and let out a deep sigh.
Yet another day lost with no converts!
He tried very hard…but the fools won’t see!
He turned on the TV. A moment later, a static-filled picture appeared.
“And the Visitor’s ship returned from their tour of the facilities on the Moon and Mars today, carrying with them several dozen high ranking officials in preparation for tomorrow’s televised meeting with world leaders. The first shipment of technology that had been offered by the Visitors -- several fusion generators, approximately one hundred thousand vaccine doses, over a dozen desalination and soil purification devices, as well as a wide variety of blueprints and technical manuals – were personally delivered to the human representatives. ‘Bob’ – the designated spokesman -- er – spokesalien of the Visitors commented to reporters –“
The screen changed to show one of the Lytasians smiling at the camera. His antennae were waving as he spoke.
“Today marks a new chapter in Earth’s history – the day when our children and children’s children will look back to know when that perfect world started in which there's no war or famine, oppression or brutality – merely one vast and ecumenical holding company, for whom all people will work to serve a common profit, in which all people will hold a share of stock - with all necessities provided, all anxieties tranquilized, all boredom amused....”
The screen cut back to the reporter.
“In other news,” she continued, “The Chinese ambassador to the UN resigned, citing ‘irreconcilable differences’. The White House declined to comment on the subject. The United Kingdom’s Foreign Secretary Christopher Nuttal, on the other hand, commented with a simple response.
The scene cut to a tall lanky looking man with blonde hair and glasses leaning back in his chair, a look of extreme annoyance on his face.
‘”Good riddance to them, those wank-“
The scene immediately cut back to the reporter.
In other related British news, the Prime Minister’s Office announced that a Cabinet shuffle is in the works, with Foreign Secretary Nuttal accepting a position as the new Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs...”
The image shrank down to a small white dot that slowly faded as the TV was shut off.
The crazed man got off the sofa and walked towards the window, deep in thought...
“—you not see the logic in that?” said the woman. “It is, after all, the very least we can do for all their assistance!” The woman was back to smiling again.
Of the dozen or so people in the room, only about half seemed convinced.
Isaac was one of those convinced.
It’s...logical. Of course! It IS the very least we can do!
“What do you suggest we do?” asked Isaac.
“Merely leave that to me! I will be the point person to initiate the official contacts! We will show the world that we will not take the Lytasians for granted! That we will show them the respect that is accorded to them! Are we with me?”
Slowly, one by one, six of the people nodded their heads.
Finally, Isaac did so as well.
An hour later, Isaac walked towards the subway station, a massive handful of papers and brochures and pamphlets held awkwardly in his right hand.
He was looking forward to the retreat that the lady had planned for the upcoming weekend. He was looking forward to meeting the others. He was looking forward to learning all he can about what he could do.
He was looking forward to having...a purpose.
The crazed man stared out the window.
The view he had was ...less than ideal.
A dank alleyway with patches of brick.
Still—it helped him think.
I’ll show them...show them all...then...THEN...they’ll thank me for opening their eyes!
Nodding his head, the crazed man turned around and walked back to the sofa...
...and tripped over a pile of newspapers on the floor, causing the pile to tip over.
Like dominoes, the pile of newspapers fell against its neighbor...which in turn fell against its neighbor...and then against the one next to that...and then...
It took the two paramedics thirty-five minutes to dig through all the newspapers and pull the crazed man out.
Despite having multiple broken bones, the man was still smiling and grinning.
When asked why, the man replied, “You see! This is proof that my great mission is valid! THEY are trying to stop me! Ha! But I showed them! I survived!”
One of the paramedics glanced over to the other, a questioning look on his face.
“Bellevue?”
“Yup.”
~~
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