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#Post#: 487--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: K-Dog Date: June 14, 2021, 12:40 am
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[spoiler][quote author=Phil Potts link=topic=18.msg483#msg483
date=1623618929]
Is it possible the real reason you don't look at the main news
headline outside is; you're afraid of hearing the unthinkable
has happened and capitalism has failed?
[/quote][/spoiler]
At the time of the writing any capitalism left on the planet is
heavily subsidized. The world has run out of energy. Oil
companies operate under martial law and the little bit of oil
left is extracted at a loss. Capitalism only works when growth
is possible or when capitalism is regulated so completely it
becomes something else.
#Post#: 493--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: Cam Date: June 15, 2021, 9:44 am
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[spoiler][quote author=K-Dog link=topic=18.msg486#msg486
date=1623648890]
[quote author=Cam link=topic=18.msg482#msg482 date=1623533190]
Finally sat down to read this. Fantastic work K-Dog. I read the
Great Derangement a few months ago, and it's all about why
contemporary fiction has avoided the topic of climate change
even though it is one the biggest issues facing us today. I
really enjoyed it.
I think a climate changed world is an extremely rich topic to
write about, and somewhat eerie to read as it is based on a
plausible scenario for the future and not some fantasy. Thank
you for helping to fill the huge gap in current fiction! Now
you've got me thinking I want to write some sort of short story.
[/quote]
Thanks, good to hear it has an eerie feeling.
As a commercial success I am sure it would fail so if you write
something, do it for fun. I'm sure I actually don't have to
tell you that. I say it to make a point. The eerie feeling
would push away most people. Having a few zombies would make
everyone feel better because then they would feel the story
can't possibly be real.
I hope you write a story. If you are thinking of it writing one
then it is only a matter of time before you do.
[/quote][/spoiler]
Oh definitely, I think this is a genre of writing that will not
be brought up at dinner parties often, lol. It's very helpful to
write and read about though, at least to me. To write about it
you have to start thinking in systems and get specific about
future effects. You kind of need a global perspective on certain
things (refugee crises, droughts, geopolitical conflict etc.)
but also a very local expertise about wherever your story is set
- a certain city or community for example. I think if I do write
something it will be about a younger person living through
collapse - maybe in some intentional community or small town.
"The climate crisis asks us to imagine other forms of human
existence—a task to which fiction, Ghosh argues, is the best
suited of all cultural forms. His book serves as a great
writer’s summons to confront the most urgent task of our time."
It's the imagining of other forms of existence that opens up
many avenues for writing. I think that's what interests me the
most.
#Post#: 525--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: K-Dog Date: July 2, 2021, 5:26 am
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Chapter Eight
Sunlight streamed through the open door when M walked in. Her
hair glowed red in the morning light. The flash of red caught
his eye and he waved. Closing the door behind her, she turned,
walked down the isle, and sat down across the table from him,
smiling she said,
Good morning.
It is always a good morning when I see you, he replied.
The egg knew how she liked her coffee.
It came to the table. No order was necessary.
Looking straight into his eyes, she said,
What are you going to do today?
I am going up to the airport and have a look around. See what
needs to be done.
We don't have flights in or out anymore, and all the planes are
in hangars. What is there to do?
I want to make sure we can respond to visitors. We could have
guests. Somebody might get the idea of moving in. Our airport is
a way onto the island, so we have equipment to run cable across
runways, making them impossible to use.
This cable can cut semi-trucks trying to crash through military
gates in half. We stretch our cables across our runways, in a
dozen places. So runways can't be used in an invasion. It only
takes a couple of minutes to wind cable in or out across
runways. But cable equipment is not yet in place. Spools holding
cable are in a warehouse at the airport ready to be put up along
runways.
Spools mount along both runways. Twenty-four poles rise out of
the ground. One for each cable. Twelve on each runway. The poles
make fences with spools on the other side which wind out cable
when receiving poles rise up. Cable hangs between pole and spool
like the cables holding up nets on tennis courts. Poles for the
spools are installed and working. They are in the ground and
ready to rise up when a cable is attached.
I'm confused, why are poles working but not the spools? When
were poles put in?
Each spool is seven feet tall and three feet wide. I did not
want anybody to know how I was going to lock down the island
before Helter Skelter happened, and spool housings will be
noticed. I did not want to make a puzzle to figure out. Spool
housings do not sink into the ground when cable is wound up like
poles do. They are too big. Poles are invisible when they are
sunk in the ground. They resemble landing lights.
Each spool has a doghouse next to it. Each doghouse has a pair
of mechanical hounds inside. Each hound can pull a cable across
the runway from a spool to a pole while it unwinds, to hook the
cable onto the pole. The hound can also unhook a cable from a
pole when the cable winds up. One hound is a spare. The poles
were installed two years ago. Hydraulics are tested every month
to make sure they lift.
Finishing coffee and breakfast, they talked about her house
project. A new house was going to be built each year. It was a
way to keep islanders skilled in building trades. The first
house was being planned. M was planning the kitchen. He asked
her what she was going to do next, and she asked him if he could
come to her house and help her move a chair. Which she could
have moved herself. And which did not need any moving. An hour
later, he left her house for the Airport.
The drive from the town to the airport only takes a few minutes.
Marvin Gaye played on the car stereo.
'Mercy, mercy
Things ain't what they used to be, no no
Where did all the blue skies go?
Poison is the wind that blows from the north and south and east'
As he drove, new vaccinations began in Gujarat India. Members of
a particular fringe Hindu sect stand first in line. They wait
for vaccination centers to open. Religious tensions in India are
stretched thin and tight. New dangerous fringe elements have
emerged. Hindu and Muslim do not trust each other and are at
war. Chronic hunger aggravates tensions. Hindu and Muslim take
vaccinations separately. They only mix with their own kind. Each
side fears being poisoned by the other. The separation in supply
chains allowed one side to change the vaccine profile their own
people get inoculated with. Annual bat virus boosters started
after pandemics were unleashed when flora and fauna tried, and
failed, to adjust to the methane bomb. Now the vaccine delivery
system is perverted from a noble and humane goal, hijacked by
madmen.
A system to vaccinate everyone on the planet was set up after
the explosion in pandemics caused by climates marching
relentlessly north. Controls make sure vaccines are not
adulterated, but a way to switch the entire supply of Hindu
vaccines to India at the source was found by homicidal fringe
elements. Anti-tampering controls can not account for an entire
supply being changed. The new Hindu supply is the same as the
old Hindu supply, but with an addition to the recipe. The new
supply protects from all seven known COVID viruses and their
many variants. Plus the new vaccine protects from a new and
previously unknown, novel, and very deadly virus. A virus which
exists only in a lab managed by the same homicidal fringe Hindu
sect whose members are first in line to get new bat virus
boosters.
Chapter Nine
Marvin Gaye finished playing. Roger Waters started streaming.
"The Bravery of Being Out of Range" played over the car
speakers. Climbing a small hill, the road curved as the Tesla
Model S slowed to take a sharp left onto Ten-Mile road. A few
hundred yards south on Ten Mile road, then a right turn onto
Airport way. A bamboo stand across a drainage ditch on the right
side of the road shimmers in a breeze. The stand of bamboo is
framed by eucalyptus trees. White flecks of gold sunlight flash
sparks from the last morning dew left over from an early morning
fog. A fog now all burned away.
Sparks of white fire flash a message back in the sparks of
sunlight. But what is the message? The breeze bends the bamboo
over. But no eyes can know the bent tops point in the wrong
direction for things to be good. The sparks of light warn of
danger.
Fifty years earlier, the bamboo stand had been thick with green
Arctic grass. The grass pointed in a different direction when
the wind blew. The new bamboo was too young for the direction of
bend to show its preference. Seeds for the eucalyptus trees came
from thousands of miles away. Nobody paused to think which way a
bamboo stand along Ten Mile road should bend in the wind. The
bend shows air is being sucked into Siberia. A huge high
pressure cap of air is being fed there. A zone of stagnate air
will hang over Siberia for days. It will be warmed by the late
summer sun until it is hot. Then it will move south and west and
get hotter.
Cement was being exposed when he arrived at the airport. Four
foundations for holding cable spools and attached mechanical
doghouses were already exposed. Work on digging up a fifth was
well under way. Landscaping had buried concrete foundations
under dirt mounds before Helter Skelter. The mounds of earth
looked like raised flower beds. Cement foundations were poured
with concrete for the runway. The foundations only needed to be
dug up with dirt from the raised beds spread out over the
surrounding ground. Plastic flowers in the raised beds had
already been taken away. The flowers would be turned into diesel
fuel later. When all the cable spools were working.
One of the men working a shovel paused as he drove up. Stepping
out of the Model S he heard,
Hey, look it is Mr K. The video star. Should we get his
autograph?
The others chuckled.
If you want it you have to have something to write with. I did
not bring anything with me.
More chuckling.
How did you guys get so much done so fast?
Another of the four-man crew spoke.
We talked last night. We figured you might show up and want to
dig, and we wanted to get all the digging done before it gets
too hot. We did not want you getting in the way. The weather
gods say it is supposed to be a hot afternoon.
The comment about getting in the way was said with a smile. The
crew was in good spirits. The weather god was an island joke. An
array of sensors across the island provided detailed weather
data to Island Central computers. An AI monitored the sensors.
As time went by, the AI learned how to make better and better
predictions of island weather. The process was automatic, and a
pair of virtual reality newscasters gave a continuous streaming
forecast of island weather over a dedicated channel on the
island broadband network. The smiling newscasters never slept or
needed to eat, and they were perfect renditions of beautiful
people. Consequently, their constant virtual cheer was quickly
found to be irritating and within days the pair was nicknamed
the weather gods. The nickname made the cheer bearable.
Besides, we want to get the work done. We think this is kind of
important.
He replied,
Yes, but as long as the United States exists, not so much. We
put up the fancy stuff now because if the country divides,
borders will be unstable. That is when we could have trouble. He
paused saying,
So what is next?
The team leader, who had been first to speak, replied.
After we dig up and wash this pad down, we are going to mount
the first five spool cans. Then we test the mechanical dogs.
Good, I want to see a dog in action. I have only seen one in a
demo when I visited the factory where they were made. I have not
seen one pull on a cable. Now, if you don't have an extra
shovel, you can give me yours.
The group chuckled.
There is an extra in the truck.
After twenty minutes of digging, the concrete pad was ready to
be hosed down with discarded dirt spread out and raked into
nearby grass. Washed down, the first five spool pads were ready
to be used.
It was late in the afternoon before all five concrete pads had
their spool cans and doghouses bolted down. Tomorrow, five more
cans would be installed by a different crew. Five days would be
needed to install all the spools. Exposing as much of the Island
Defense Team as possible to the system was a good idea. That is
why every day used different people. Everybody doing the work
was on the Island Defense Team.
People began to show up for the demo about 15:00 in the
afternoon, but it was almost 16:20 in the afternoon before power
was wired to all the spools. About fifty people stood on the
north end of the runway, looking south at the line of newly
mounted spool cans on the right side. The first can was about
twenty feet away and the last looked small and very far away.
The three cans in between stepped in size from large to small as
the perspective of distance shrank them down.
A line of five bright blue lights flashed along the other side
of the runway. The lights rose on thick steel poles as thick as
tree trunks from the ground. On the side of the poles facing the
runway thick steel hooks are mounted open side up.
Doghouse doors opened in unison. Out of each door, a pair of
mechanical dogs stepped. One dog stood motionless, while the
dogs closest to spool cans walked over to stand by their cans.
Ends of cable bent over to make loops popped out of the side of
the spool cans. Each dog slipped their mechanical head through a
loop. Then the dogs walked across the runway all at the same
time. Each pair together with one dog pulling cable. Reaching
the hooks, the dogs pulling cable rubbed their heads against the
steel hooks and with a quick fluid motion of the front paws the
cable was on the hook. Then the poles rose higher and the runway
was blocked by thick cables ready to slice any airplane trying
to land in half. The dogs returned to their doghouses and backed
in. The doors closed.
A minute went by and the doors opened. This time one dog jumped
out of each doghouse and, without pause, ran across the runway
to the poles hooking cables on the other side. Jumping up on
hind legs, the dogs unhooked cables and ran back to their
doghouses. As the dogs backed into their doghouses, spools began
to wind up cable. In a minute, the runway was cleared for
landings until the next test of the system.
In a week, all the cables will be mounted. The Island will be
able to prevent airplanes from landing and regular defensive
drills will start. By then, the mass of stagnant air over
Siberia will be slowly moving. The mass of high pressure will
blow through and around the mountains of Afghanistan for a final
push to bake over India.
By this time a Hindu detective in India, suspicious of the
eagerness members an extremist group had for being vaccinated,
acquired some vaccine the group is fond of taking. The
detective's commitment to the principles of ahimsa is firm and
his desire to stop extreme authoritarian and cruel expressions
of karma, where he can, is strong. Before the day was over, the
vaccine was in a diplomatic pouch on the way to the Wuhan
Institute of Virology in China. If there is anything unusual
about the vaccine, the detective knew the Wuhan virology lab is
the place with the best talent to find out if anything strange
is going on.
Chapter Ten
Leaving the airstrip, the Tesla cruises up Ten Mile road. Five
kilometers up from where Airport Way turns onto Ten Mile Road,
the Tesla turns left to reach the Doomstead Diner parking lot.
The Diner lot is on the opposite side of the Diner from the Ten
Mile Road side, reached by a driveway along the south wall.
Coffee smells good when K walks through the door. Nods greet
him. The Doomstead Diner is across the parking lot from the
Church of Celestial Wonders. The Church of Wonder is not a real
church. It is the name of the island recreational drug
dispensary. K knew prohibition would not work. Social use of
alcohol and other things is allowed. Island ration cards make
excessive consumption difficult. The Diner, filled to capacity
with people fresh from work in farm fields, is serving dinner.
Talk fills the air.
The waitress looked at him.
'They were just saying you might bring a mechanical Fido in with
you.'
'I would, but they don't have tongues to hang outside windows. I
need a dog that hangs his head out the window when I go down the
road.'
'Really, everybody wants to see one. Nobody here knew we had
them.'
'Ahhhh, yeah. It was on the down-low because they can double as
soldiers. Under the new rules, I can't bring a dog in anyway. I
am only the island censor now. The dogs are managed by island
defense. I'll ask them to arrange a demo since people are
interested.'
'Coffee ?'
'Yes, And a facon sandwich.'
He sat down at the counter. She turned to get coffee. The Diner
looked like something from the American 70s. In each of four
corners, video monitors mount hanging from the ceiling. Screens
are packaged to look like old style TVs. A slide show of island
news plays in an endless loop. Booths have individual speakers.
Audio from video plays in booths when a button is pressed down.
Island temperature flashes onto screens in a weather report.
Twenty-Eight degrees C shows. A balmy arctic day if you do not
move too much. A hot day for those pulling farm shifts. The
Diner is cooled. Finished with a day of work, those assigned
farming are happy to be cooling off in the Diner. K is there for
coffee, conversation, and a walk across the parking lot for some
hash oil.
Unavoidable slowing of northern grain shipments to new southern
desert nations start riots. China dissidents awake to find
themselves nailed inside apartments. Their only consolation,
knowing that failure to receive a fair share of food rations
from those assigned to deliver rations to them is a death
penalty to those in the delivery team. A consolation not worth
much if their own death reveals a delivery problem. In India,
riots rage. The curious Indian detective delivers the vaccine he
obtained from the Hindu radical splinter group to the World
Pandemic Authority. Analysis shows the mix is their own standard
vaccine issue with an additional strand of RNA to protect
against a virus membrane protein in the terrorist bio-weapon.
Within hours, this strand is added to standard anti-Covid
vaccine cocktails. The World Defense Authority, alerted by the
Pandemic Authority, targets every city where members of the
radical Hindu sect live. Nuclear weapons are armed.
On the Island, crops grow. The island council decided isolation
will be suspended to take the anticipated food harvest surplus
to Anchorage. There it will be sent to food banks in the city.
Grain unloaded, the boat crew will return to the island
immediately. There is no need to bring anything back, so contact
will be kept to a minimum. The visit would be short.
Helter-Skelter means keeping a low profile.
A world defense execution squad mingles in the village where the
radical Hindus sect keep their bio-lab. All members of the sect
in the village are killed at once as the bio-lab is seized. The
stored virus is killed and the lab torched. In a nearby village,
a vial of the virus kept as a backup is released by surviving
members of the terrorist sect. The release is quickly detected.
A test of the first victim's blood shows the released virus as
soon as she is hospitalized. Local members of the Hindu sect are
arrested or killed. A pandemic vaccination squad enters the
village and sets up a wide perimeter stretching into the
countryside. Across which nobody can cross without permission.
By the time the virus release is fully extinguished, 700 people
in the village district are dead. Release in a large city would
have triggered a nuclear response. World defense cancels the
nuclear alert.
In better parts of the world, low birth rates and natural
attrition shrinks population. Slowly over the years. In these
areas food is scarce but available. Population living in better
parts experience a long misery. The relationship is
coincidental. In other parts of the world, food availability and
soil fertility fall faster than population in the area can
naturally fall.
These are lands of failed states where warlords and gangs rule.
Murder and starvation is the norm in these lands. Population
declines catastrophically in sudden jumps from any increase in
food stress and soil degrades. Creating ever more difficulty in
growing food. A handful of cities high enough from the sea cling
to civilization in uneasy stabilities.
A warehouse on the island has enough Formica to resurface all
Doomstead Diner tables and counter-tops every five years for the
next thousand years. Facon is not in short supply, and Coffee
grows well on island mountains. Society is organized to maintain
equity between island citizens, allowing all citizens to achieve
fulfilled lives. Island citizens are able to express and
cultivate talents. Education punctuates island work schedules
throughout life. All citizens become skilled teachers as they
practice on each other. The Island is organized to preserve the
best humanity learned in the growth times. Before the world
died, and before it could begin to recover.
Population has to reduce to a fraction of the mass the human
tumor has been allowed to grow. A massive reduction in
population numbers must happen before our biosphere can recover.
The most powerful counties of the far north collaborate to keep
nuclear war from happening. Pandemic response is coordinated.
Most importantly, grain ships of the arctic are controlled by
this cabal of nations. This is welfare on a global scale, with
countries receiving grain ruled by surveillance and panoptic
terror to keep populations from growing. Need for grain keeps an
uneasy peace between nations. Population growth or war results
in the sanction of a grain boycott.
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