El Viento Redentor
by H. L. Dowless
The majestic Sierra Geral hillside provided an extraordinary view
across the vast metropolis of my royal empire. In the hazy distance lay
the sea, faintly observable from my three story Bastille wall. My
personal observatory office is inside the ninth guard tower, down from
the northern end. My twelve feet thick earth, brick, and mortar walls
are slightly angled inward, to deflect projectiles of any sort. Massive
anti-aircraft guns are positioned on each corner of my elegant, league
square, Bastille. Mounted fifty caliber machine guns guard the central
areas of my wall. A twenty four hour armed guard does routine patrol
along this wall, moving from the northern end, downward to ward the
southern end, both the eastern and western walls, pausing at each guard
tower, going up the winding staircases, observing, then racing downward
again. Security cameras in company with AI android facial recognition
systems covertly guard the outside area and the walls. Inside myself,
my beautiful family, my associates and those of theirs, and all of our
security forces, are totally safe.
Behind this astonishing Bastille fortress stands our blessed cathedral
styled castle abode. Here the walls are also twelve fee thick, being
tactfully constructed of solid concrete, and an elegant decorate stone
covering. Beneath the cathedral, deep underground, are positioned grand
chambers, with catacombs some thirty fathoms down constructed into the
mountain side. The walls of these catacombs are also some twelve feet
thick.
These concrete tunnels interconnect, moving from the living chambers,
creating alternative exit points, with concealed exit points on the
beach itself, in the city underneath cathedral worship areas, age old
libraries, distilleries, vineyards, market places, and trading areas of
a vast multiplicity in sorts. On the surface these exit points are
concealed as being basement storage areas, storage buildings, closets,
warehouses for grapes, apples, condiments at large, garages, and in
many more contexts forming a list far too exhaustive to make note of
here. Should an air attack ever commence, our entire forces and our
presence shall be totally preserved beneath the very earth and concrete
rubble of our massive castle and Bastille, with every precious element
being much more secure even in its very destruction, as we continue to
wage holy war upon the aggressive enemy without!
There exists a series of strategically situated driving carts inside
our tunnel complex, where we can ride in groups, exiting from the
castle complex, into any area found in the reaches of my vast empire,
including the dense jungle itself. At various strategically located
areas throughout our subterranean tunnel network, are massive twelve
feet thick, automatic doors of concrete and steel. With a single click
of a button on our infra-red wand, these doors open. Should our
motorized mechanism for opening these doors ever become disabled, one
classified secret is that these doors are designed to be manually
locked or unlocked from a handle concealed inside the concrete itself
in an area found at the top center of the nine foot door, which is
balanced into an absolute perfection. Though each door literally weighs
in at a ton, a ten year old child can ease the door open without
stressing.
Frequently our security men don themselves as mere commoners, exiting
at different points, conducting patrols, placing covert microphones and
security cameras inside areas of proletariat congregation and crowd
movement. Even a slight whisper made can be detected by our
ultra-sensitive AI systems, an AP alert silently transmitted throughout
our entire security network system, a photographic identification of
perpetrator distributed in the passing of an instant, with any
potentially dangerous dissident being clandestinely arrested on the
spot before he can even exit the area in which the forbidden comment
was made. A cloth coated in easily obtainable chloroform makes an
excellent silencer on the offender, who is them whisked away before any
individual inside the crowd even notices.
When he awakens he finds himself inside our special subterranean
dungeon, chained and shackled to the concrete wall. He may scream in
his own astonishment of his personal situation, but not only are the
walls sound proof, they are also designed to radiate that sound back
into the central area of the room where it is magnified ten times over,
causing terrible pain to the ears of he who is enchained. Our security
men, however, wear special hearing devices designed to squelch loud
sounds. Should the condemned person scream, they are consequently
immune to the magnified sound.
Usually these dissidents are repetitive. We have a well developed
formula for effectively dealing with such people, however. Our process
involved proceeds along a clearly specified and deductively determined
course. What we strongly desire above all other effects is a patriotic
citizen reformation, rather than any type of punitive. Elimination
is a least considered option.
Inside the very holding cell itself, a four by six wooden table is
positioned in the center of the concrete floor. A chair is placed on
either side of the table. The enchained violator is attached to a chain
comfortably extending into the center of the chamber. The lights are
quashed until there is only total darkness. A candle is lit and
positioned inside the center of the table. There are three security
officials inside the dungeon behind the bars. One of them is the
interviewer. Three more stand at guard on the outside of the dungeon
bars. The dissident takes up a position on the side of the table toward
the wall, while the interviewer takes a position in the directly
opposite chair. The other two security officials take their own rigid
positions behind the interviewer, or on either end of the table.
The candle burns for a few moments as the two glare forward into each
other’s faces without any display of emotion what so ever. The golden
light dances in the faces of the two, and upon the walls, filling the
entire chamber with an amazing brilliance. Even the security guards
behind the bars could clearly be discerned in what would ordinarily be
a total void of light. The rough, weather scarred face of the
mustachioed interviewer, suddenly shattered a nerve racking silence
with its ragged but harshly firm voice;
“So they call you John El Diablo. Did I get that right?”
“Why should I even reply to the likes you?,” the violator asked without
any sign of emotion in the flickering light.
The interviewer glances around the room toward the others, laughing, as
the others chimed in.
“Take a look around here son.” returned the interviewer with the palms
of both hands turned up and spread out. “Where in hell do you think it
is that you are? La Guarida Del Conejito Roho ?”
Both the interviewer and the guards burst out in harsh, cruel sounding
laughter. The interviewer suddenly arose from his seat, moving toward
the accused.
“Or might it be the Fairmont Francisco Suites?,” he thundered. The
accused made no reply.
All laughter abruptly ceased. All crude smiles transformed into cruel
mustachioed sneers. Nothing more was said for what felt like a few
minutes. The silence suddenly shattered again with the interviewer’s
low rumble.
“Indeed you are the last of your kind, John. You dwell in the most
luxuriant kingdom on earth! Are you aware of this fact? Reality of this
situation with you truly staggers all of our minds. The name is called
The Kingdom Of The Sun! Say our honored name with pride, boy. Say it,
now-!”
The condemned dissident remained firmly silent for what felt like an
hour.
The interviewer rushed up, seizing the man by the face where his mouth
was, continuing to speak through tightly clenched teeth.
“Its El Gran Reino Del Sol. Feel the name roll off your lips as it
leaves your tongue, and in its place following its exit, a sweetness in
likeness to no other. Say the blessed name now, boy!”
Suddenly the interviewer proceeds to slap the dissident sharply with
his opened right palm as he firmly grasps the man’s face with his left
hand, and speaks through tightly clenched teeth.
“Say the blessed words, my boy, speak the elegant name of the greatest
kingdom on all of emerald earth. Allow the flow to move from your
throat, across your tongue, and over your lips, now! Say it!”
He proceeded to slap the man again, one time after another with his
right hand, though the man still remained rigid in his composure,
ignoring the pain. Without any prior indication, suddenly the man in
chains leaped upward from his chair, though both hands were shackled
securely in irons.
“Stop it! Just stop it! I have had enough of this abuse! Stop it now!”
The interviewer and his fellow security accomplices burst into a
laughter that now grew louder and seemed to continue on for what felt
like hours. The sound grew so intense in the head of the chained
dissident, that he clenched both ears with his shacked hands and
wrists, squinting his eyes, and wincing in near unbearable pain. The
guards laughed on for a time feeling as though it would never end. He
continued clenching his ears and teeth, until he staggered backward to
collapse against the wall, eventually sagging into the floor while the
security officials continued roaring their coarse laughter.
He awoke, finding himself still in chains laying at the foot of the
wall. The room was one of a pitch black darkness. He somehow could
barely make out the form of a table that was now fading, as his dizzy
intellect and the darkness played merciless tricks on his mind and
eyes. The security men were gone, and the iron doors were firmly
locked. What now was he going to do? Where would he wind up going? Who
could he now call to inform them of his personal tragedy? How?
So it goes with these dissidents periodically. We have a highly
developed methodology in dealing with these types. Our system works in
the area of citizen reform. Punitive acknowledgments were only
systematically delegated on an appropriated occasion. Eliminations were
virtually unheard of. Indeed, no records of such occurrences even
existed inside any national file. International investigators often
searched diligently due to dissident claims of mass executions
occurring inside our divine homeland of infinite tranquility, and
nothing ever was brought to the surface; not even an old blood stain on
a dungeon floor, let alone some half buried wilderness bone pile,
somewhere in a long forgotten peat bog. How dare these crass, imposing
imperialistic foreigners insult our holy name, in company with our
general national dictate!
No kingdom or city existing in our present day even remotely resembles
ours. Our chief patron God is the same as holy Indra, in the
far east across the distant water, aye, the same as Manco Copac!
He is also the same divine entity as Viracochas, who
constructed the mighty city, Teotihuacan, in the far north. We,
who dwell in El Gran Reino Del Sol, have our own title for our
divine entity, Zorothrauzi!
Zorothauzi founded El Puerto De Tranquilidad, nine thousand solar
revolutions ago. We label this twelve month measure of time in our own
vernacular as a solar epoch.
We, the citizen lords of progress, dwelt in an air of complete peace
and total prosperity. Our marvelous city covers the mountainous valley,
with central complexes inside the pit of massive extinct volcanoes
surrounding our primary metropolis. We are totally liberated, free to
dwell according to our own design, and most importantly of all, to
prosper! Individual enterprise is esteemed above all else. We submit to
no outside dominion of any sort. No church, no central banking system
or dynastic financiers, we have no debt from national entities outside
of our own, praise be to God. Indeed, dear reader, we submit unto no
power found on earth, other than the force of reason and logic!
We live far better than any among those who surround us. We are more
industrious, are more creative, better educated, more civilized, and
far wealthier by a long shot! We even possess a vastly different
appearance from any among those found in the surrounding lands. Our
hair and flesh radiate forth the very light of the sun. Our eyes exude
the brilliant cerulean effulgence of the immaculate skies above. Our
hair flows in succinct strands resembling the healthiest threads of
flaxen. Our physical form is near five cubits in height, and perfectly
sculptured forms of supreme fitness and health. On our bodies there are
no blemishes, yea, no imperfections neither nor upon the surface.
When Pizarro El Conquistador entered our supreme kingdom, there was no
conquest. Nay, on the contrary, there was a respectful embrace! He
exalted in our presence, gave us sustenance, granted us his own
personal guarantee of indefinite liberty. He adored our inheritance of
organization ordained by the divine gods in the heavens beyond. He
deeply desired that we retain our traditions, our celestial
constitution, our inherent plan of life, and our individual liberty.
Our women were viewed as exotic sublime queens among his men; yea, even
our individual men, as native bastions of intellectualism, philosophy,
accomplishment and raw strength!
Others arrived here into our land. Welcomed immigrants from among those
who dreamed of conquering the great Golden Circle, flooding forth upon
our golden in waves, eventually gravitating into our midst. They were
fleeing persecution in their own land by the laden greed of the banking
dynasties, the corporations, and their colluding collective absolute
authority in congress. Our latest degree of prosperity has been
credited by our own present day historians, unto them. Our illustrious
ancient banner of the glorious Saint Andrews Cross, was inherited from
them. Still, to this very moment in time, we ardently welcome those who
can prove a genetic connection from this heritage population, with wide
open arms. Thus, via our heritage and embrace, we consequently
prospered from that time forward, while all others fell prostrate
before imperialism’s incessant advance.
In our own time, our success, our individualism, our lucid patrimony,
our physical beauty, our intellectualism, the undeniable degree of
sophistication, is the envy of the entire world! Those who envy our
patrimony, our success, our traditions the most, originate from among
the western imperialists. I say, they indeed can fly far away from us,
with all of their dissident accomplices!
The present time was midnight on the outside. Our dissident prisoner
had been employed steadily for twelve hours down in the western tunnel
sections. He was not allowed sleep the night before, he had labored for
twelve hours, and in all probability, he would receive no sleep on this
night in addition. Again the table of wood had been positioned in the
chamber’s midst. The central candle promptly lit. He sat on the side of
the table facing the wall, while his interviewer sat at the other
directly from him. The timeless light danced on the face of every
person present. The rumble of the interviewer’s voice shattered the
heavy silence.
“Look at me, boy. I say, just look directly into my face, and answer my questions!”
The dissident breathed heavily as the interviewer spoke his words.
“Do we have an understanding?
The dissident made no reply.
“Boy, I asked you, do we have an understanding?”
The interviewer abruptly rushed up to the dissident on the other side
of the table, slapping the chained dissident one time after the other
with the back side of his right hand. Blood began to splatter the floor
and the plain concrete wall, being clearly noticeable in the flicker of
the candle light. The dissident sagged from the chair, onto the cold
concrete floor beneath him.
“You are going to look at me when I speak to you! Do we have a clear understanding?
The interviewer began kicking him in his sides, in his groin, in his
face, time and time again. The excruciating pain caused him to believe
his ribs had been shattered.
“Do we have an understanding between us two now?"
The dissident forced himself to nod yes as he lay on his side upon the concrete chamber floor.
“Excellent, excellent! Now that’s what I like to hear, cooperating men
discussing serious details on level playing fields. Now get up from
that floor, and sit back in your seat!, ” the interviewer roared in a
more calmed tone of voice.
The dissident struggled to pick himself up and take his seat. He forced himself to gaze upon the government interviewer.
“Now, I am going to speak in plain simplistic words, asking you a
series of questions. You simply give me a direct response. Are you with
me on this?
The dissident forced himself to nod yes. His eyes flicked from his interviewer’s hardened face, to the table, then back up.
“Are you who they call John El Diablo?
The chained dissident nodded a strained yes.
“Did you originate with the group referred to euphemistically as The Liberators?”
The dissident forced himself to nod yes again after a lengthy pause. The interviewer smiled, then arose from his seat.
“Your cooperation level at this point is staggeringly outstanding. Now
I am going to ask you a few questions in regard to this organization, The Liberators, alright?”
The dissident paused, then nodded yes, with an extremely nervous hesitation.
“Did this group, The Liberators, originate with the northern imperialists?”
There was a momentary pause, then a hesitating nod yes. The dissident began to inhale deeply in seething anger.
“Outstanding, excellent, and just what I had already supposed. So how long have you been in league with this group?”
There was a long pause, and no answer.
“I said, boy, how long have you been with this group?,” the interviewer
screamed as he rushed up again, slapping the dissident with the back
side of his hand repeatedly, until he collapsed out onto the cold
concrete floor again. When the dissent fell from his seat, the
interviewer commenced to kick him in the face until he lost two teeth,
and blood flowed from his mouth into a warm, thick oozing puddle on the
cold concrete floor, in which he lay struggling to breath.
“Seven years,” the dissident struggled to say as he began to choke on
his own blood. He spit blood several times as he finally arose into a
sitting position on the concrete. The interviewer stopped beating him,
then paced back and forth in the cell, walking around the table
repeatedly.
“Outstanding, virtually beyond belief as to assigning value level to
the information we have now harvested. Men, assist our inmate here back
into his seat. Turn on the lighting. Give him our best pasta and meat
dish. Give him fresh milk to drink. Everything we are dealing with here
is just as our investigators had already surmised.
“I simply cannot for the life of me comprehend why a person would
embrace the false claims of some foreign imperialist, when he lives in
the greatest land on the face of the earth. He has access to everything
right here. He can prosper without repression, while all of the
northern lands enslave their citizens to the chains of a central bank,
where their congressional legislators can take out loans in complete
absence of any regulating check, then force the installment payments
back down upon the heads of its citizen base. Can you really believe
they call this form of systemic indebtedness freedom? Convincing
citizens to believe this lie surely must demand the very best in the
world’s artifacts of creative propaganda. And according to our present
comprehension of facts harvested in recent weeks, their secret service
has invaded our boarders and convinced at least one group, The
Liberators, to embrace their own bondage? My God, this reality defies
all forms of logic and reason! How many of you are there?”
The dissident didn’t return any reply.
“I asked you a direct question. How many of you are there?”
The dissident paused, then finally forced his own reply.
“Three thousand.”
The interviewer circled the table in his own obvious display of seething anger, repeatedly saying;
“My word, oh divine Zorothauzi, I simply can’t believe what my poor
ears are hearing. My throbbing mind can’t accept what my ears are
hearing tonight!”
He continued to pace nervously around the table.
“Do you know of any other dissident groups?”
The dissident finally spoke following another pause.
“I have heard of three, but I don’t know who they are, or how many members are in these groups.”
The interviewer continued to pace around the cell, gritting his teeth
in seething anger. He inhaled deeply as the depth of his rage motivated
him. He finally spoke.
“I shall pass all of this valuable information on to the king. Take the
other dissidents to the pool of lampreys inside the twelfth
subterranean corridor,” the interviewer roared to his surrounding
accomplices. “There is no more value for us to make of them. Us, the
king, and all of you are finally going to have a banquet party tonight,
in spite of these possible threats to our position. Get them stripped
down and covered in bacon grease and molasses! Fetch in all of the many
meat varieties, the rum, the bourbon, the sugar cane white lightning,
and the native herb. A few comfort women mixed in with this exuberant
celebration of darkness being conquered, will be good. Indeed, the
grand climax shall be my favorite part!,” he laughed as he glared down
at the chained dissident, who only hung his head in abject despair.
On the third of March I received the interviewer’s elaborately detailed
note. He informed me of every planned detail. The resulting party the
night before really had been great . The female dissidents were
compelled by flames to service all of us in every conceivable way
imagined. I got really excited when we brought in the great Danes. A
few of them refused, but we had artfully anticipated this possibility
earlier on.
Within the past month we forced all of these kittens to inject needles
filled with heroine. They fought us bitterly at the onset, but soon
came to relish the very moment of our strategically offered occasional
gifts. By the moment of our great party, they were all completely
addicted. When we offered them additional hits, they soon relented on
their forbearance, and merrily serviced the Danes right there before
all of us, in every conceivable manner. I personally got a kick out of
the two on one scenes. We all roared with laughter as we witnessed them
degrade themselves with the great Danes from every perceivable
perception of possibility. This specific party was about the wildest
time I ever encountered under these gross circumstances.
At the parties conclusive moments, the males were thrown totally nude
into the pool of lampreys, while their very bones were soon licked
perfectly clean of all flesh by these hysterical eels. It was really
fun shoving, or kicking them back into the pool, as they struggled to
clamber out onto the edge, hoping to escape our starving eels, as our
eels licked virtual gaping holes into their very bodies, going into a
crazed feeding frenzy as the water saturated heavy red with blood. The
water in the pool seemed to literally boil as these eels went mad. We
all laughed until our sides ached, and we could hardly breathe. Here it
is a week later and I am at my office in the Bastille tower,
contemplating my offensive move on our newly certified enemies.
A hundred and fifty years ago, huge waves of persecuted illustrious,
elegant, and wealthy immigrants migrated here from the huge kingdom to
the far north. We welcomed them all with wide open arms. We needed
them, and they needed us. Their government hated them for not
submitting to the extortion of the banking dynasties, and the
corporations financed by them. They fought a vicious four year long
battle with their own greed intoxicated government, who callously
reduced their precious homeland and illustrious assets, into smoldering
rubble. Their government even proceeded to blame them for starting the
war, continuing to attack their heritage, their patrimony, their family
structure, their religion, indeed must I say, their culture at large.
Obviously the effort of their own government was and is, to exterminate
them outright!
Because we welcomed in these innocent asylum seekers with wide opened
arms, as we still do, their government hates us in a likewise fashion,
seeking to destroy us in their continuing attack on them as they relish
here in their patrimonial culture. Its not going to happen the way
these corrupted leaders think this time around. I hereby declare to the
earth without, I am king, and that much makes all the difference!
Though the remaining citizens of this northern land were once
fabulously wealthy, the greed of their own leadership has now reduced
multitudes into abject poverty. They, as individuals, have lost all of
their personal and individual liberty at large. They have a
constitutional amendment allowing them to own firearms firmly fixed
into place, and their government desperately seeks to render this
heritage law impotent. Once this measure is secured, no barrier will
then prohibit their government from rendering their population
completely into slave status to the banks, the corporations, and their
governmental allies. Their constitutional inalienable right to own
property, secured in a document known to them as The Bill Of Rights,
has been stolen right out from underneath their own feet, in their own
faces! They are compelled to pay a virtual government lease
installment, on an indefinite recurring time schedule, consequently
robbing their secured right to own property from their very grasp; and
yet not a single citizen ever dares to voice the concern! Their
corrupted present day system is one virtually identical to those who
live by the old Fabian law far across the water, yet their prevailing
ignorance proselytized by their own government causes them to be blind
to the fact.
In their government officials own corrupted minds, their boarders are
to remain open due to their own perverse, if not mandated, ideology
embracing a collectivist notion of brotherly love. I have ardently
studied their legal system, their laws, their daily costumes. My double
agents have already entered into their boarders by the virtual
multitudes. I am educated in regard to their weaknesses. My discoveries
run as such;
They have sent away their own production base. The prevailing greed of
government and corporation has allowed their developed industry to exit
their own national boarders. Their economy only stands on their service
industries, which pay little, while offering virtually no benefits and
no employment security, with only a few exceptions at an apex virtually
unattainable by the broad masses; an exact opposite to the way it was
when they possessed a developed production base.
According to great investigative research, their largest weakness for
the purpose of our exploitation, lies in their medical industry, and
general health services. Because of their corporate and government
greed, accessing these services is almost beyond reach of the average
person. Two thirds of their people have no health insurance, since it
is so ridiculously overpriced; especially in lieu of their production
base being shipped offshore, and their best paying jobs in number going
with it. My first direct attack will be there, on their medical system.
My intent is to saturate their system with medical cases in the
hundreds of millions.
On the stormy twelfth striking of early April, I covertly spoke with the darkly cloaked occultist priests of Harmule,
found inside the natural cave networks of the mountainside surrounding
our capitol metropolis inside our blessed Empire Of The Sun, in
concerns to us cooking up a special potency for our enemies' disaster.
We prayed collectively to Vichama, the ancient God Of Death, for a viable solution, in accordance to the nature of our own intellect. During the course of my ayahuasca
induced midnight fantasy, I visualized myself as being the timeless
Angel Of Death. A potent vapor, a debilitating mist of massive
disaster, moving forward upon the face of the earth earth with
horrendous trepidation! I become extremely excited at the thought of a
million millions perishing by the power of a grandiose miasma I release
at my own liberty. I desire not for instant death, mind you, however.
No! What I desire most of all is a delayed death or effect, no less
than three months!
I visualize a formidable death, where the brains transform into soupy
jell, then leak from the nose. A pestilence where the genitalia is
filled with devouring maggots. The very vision of me crafting such a
thing really excites my inner being to the fullest! I desire an
ultra-communicable pestilence manufactured to transform eyes into
liquid, while it gnaws at the very flesh. I want the inner organs to
transform into mucilaginous jello.
Their suffering shall endure for a period of twelve days, so that vast
multitudes shall saturate their medical centers, their care stations,
their individual homes, their schools, even their places of worship;
not only in search of medical facilitation, but also in a quest of
comfort found in some philosophical comprehension of their all
encompassing seemingly spontaneous emerging situation. If I can’t wipe
their population from the face of the earth, then I desire at least
eighty percent; nay, even seventy percent! Even with their death rate
standing above fifty percent, I will be overjoyed!
I visualize myself as being a secular restoration of El Santa De La Muerta!
I exonerate her immaculate effigy. I kneel even as I pen these very
words, in her presence. I seek a certain non-quantifiable solitude. I
beseech her divine blessing in my quest for an inheritance of power
granted unto me by her emerging spectrum before me. Her very form
abides with me. Her words whisper into my waiting ear. She offers her
divine instruction as she paints a portrait of the death scene in the
eye of my most vividly exotic mid-night fantasies.
My might, my force, my passion, my rage, transforms into a mist, a hazy
heavy saturated mid-night fog. Silently I cross the vast norther ocean,
entering the open boarders of the nation designing to do my anointed
kingdom harm. These boarders remain unguarded not out of intentional
idealistic carelessness, as their government relays unto its masses for
the purpose of courting an allying majority, but out of an arrogance
provoking intimidation to the neighboring nations of the earth! Inside
secret labs among the occultist priests from the dark dogma of Harmule,
have been harvested certain specific herbs from the jungle heart,
combining specific chemicals extracted from these herbs with virus
microbes. These specially selected chemicals engender a dramatic
increase in a level of toxicity manufactured inside the host body from
any infestation of these special virus microbes. These chemicals also
allow this germ to feed from the light of the sun, from upon the oxygen
in the surrounding air, until it magnifies itself into an invisible
mist or haze.
We have already isolated the labeling code, H1N1, aye, the dreaded
Iberian Terror! My priestly assistants have manipulated this germ in
ways rendering it totally immune to any antibiotics presently
available. Not only may it be inhaled, it may also be absorbed through
the skin, the eyes, even an exposed patch of flesh the size of a small
American quarter! Far more than that, this manufactured virus is
invisible to the eye, the nose, the sense of taste, while still yet
possessing an ability to infect, yet lay dormant for ninety days in the
initiative following ingestion.
Our special ops agents known as El Fuego De Dragon, have
already entered in through their southern boarder, as it lays so
arrogantly open and waiting. They will never suspect our intentions or
presence, as we move around donned in the garb of vagrants. Our well
educated special ops speak their language fluently, in their own
accents.
Entering in was a ridiculously simplistic act. Our agents silently
walked through the desert at mid-night, donned in black, green, and
yellow hooded cloaks, manufactured with a built-in red-out heat seal.
Our valiant sleuth warriors lived on packed water and pemmican as they
traveled, slyly walking passed their visual indicators perched on
posts, and patrolling the drone saturated skies above. Our covert
forces are in likeness to forest fog, as they have so been designed by
intent and routine experimentation. They move where they please, enter
inside as they feel motivated. I gloat with great pride as I relay the
report detailing how they they artfully and so silently swam the river
boarder!
The terrible formula for the death fog is carefully locked away in the
minds of each agent. They collect necessary corroborating herbal
substitutions from the enemies own countryside. They manipulate the
virus microbes while doing so covertly inside their own caves! These
carefully composed formulas are sealed inside vials crafted from shells
harvested inside their own desert, or brown beer bottles castaway by
various vagrant interlopers passing through.
Our ninety holy agents of the divine order, scatter all across their
great land, entering into their largest airport facilities, their buss
stations, their subway stations. They enter into their largest malls,
their enclosed sporting events of any magnitude, their largest places
of worship! These vials are opened and the terrible cloud is released
simultaneously, according to a prearranged synchronized time formula.
This whiff released from these covert vials, reproduces on the air
within these facilities, being inhaled deeply by every living being
present, even to include beasts of the field and house hold pets.
Zorothrauzi is so great!
From these areas this ultra-contagious death vapor shall be transported
into the schools, the homes, even into the most remote areas. Without
firing a single shot our forces shall bring our arrogant enemy to its
very knees, devastating its health care industry, its service industry
from which it supports itself, acting as its own infecting agent in and
of itself. Eventually its economy shall cease in all production, with a
loss totaling into the trillions on top of the gross debt margin it
already carries. So be its justified well earned consequence for
violating the divine commandment to avoid all debt.
Inside the ninety day incubation period our submarines shall lay in
waiting along the bottom of international waters. Our presence is
perfectly legal, according to international law. Upon incubation, when
this carefully designed devastation is at its height, according to the
word given by our special agents, our newly developed electromagnetic
missile system shall be launched. This missile system also has been
routinely tested as being totally undetectable.
The divine number of seven is enough to detonate in outer space above
their twelve primary economic metropolitan areas. Should our weapons
system fail to eradicate their entire national power grid, certainly
the power shall be zapped from these twelve central areas, eventually
milking all power from the outlying areas beyond. Any survivors shall
consequently turn on his neighbor, eliminating him and serving to
spread our magnificent victory vapor even farther. For virtual pennies
on the dollar, and without firing a single shot, our forces from the
Elysium realm in the beyond, shall totally annihilate a land noted as
being the greatest nation on the face of the earth! Hail to the supreme
God Of All, Zorothrauzi! Hail Zorothrauzi!
Our euphemism code name for our death cloud weapon is El Viento Redentor!
Yes, through it our honor and respect has truly been redeemed. Our
might, through the power it shall exert, shall be inherently
resurrected, for ever more. Our national honor and our blood heritage
shall be preserved indefinitely, via the presence of it’s very being.
Viva El Gran Reino Del Sol! Viva El Puerto De Tranquilidad!
THE END
© 2020 H. L. Dowless
Bio: The author is an international ESL Instructor. He has been a
writer for over thirty years. His latest publications have been two
books of nonfiction with Algora Publishing, and fictional publications
with combo e-zines and print magazines; Leaves Of Ink, Short Story
Lovers, The Fear Of Monkeys, and Frontier Tales.
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