Copyright © W. Shawn Gray 1981 - 2001. All rights reserved.
Last update: Saturday, 12-March-2001
The crimson flow of love trickled down, diluted by the haughtiness
of the bourgeois, debased by the arrogance of imperialist regimes, 'twas a Messianic message for an eschatological time.
Politicians debated, economists
balanced, Conservatives clung, Terrorist bombed Scientist dreamed as Conservationist screamed.
Nuclear Brinkmanship for an Apocalyptic Age. Blasphemies of creation were
the Mushroom clouds of Insanity that nearly annihilated the miserable breed Homosapiens.
For now in the Dark Ages of the 33rd Century an
ignominious race of technological barbarians are paused to spread their obscenity across the galaxy These vile creatures are reading a new Hyperspace drive in preparation for yet another fling at infamy.
"Study hard, and get a good job"
They used to say so you study hard, get distinctions, honours, highly commendeds, and qualify yourself right out of a job into unemployment "Ah! Sorry you are too qualified for us
Blab, Blab, Blab" They would say
"Too Qualified!" What a joke, me with every letter possible after a degree in Ethereal Physics, they never got past the subatomic stuff in their day. More likely we feel positively threatened by smart graduates, and we don't want to loose our cosy jobs and six months annual leave.
Then just when I've settled down. This jerk from the bureaucracy ambles in and trys to engage my enthusiasm, with a job so secret he doesn't know what it is. Did I do Ethereal Physics?
What a classically dumb question that was. All the computers knew, but I suppose the bureaucrats didn't want to tax their brains too much by looking. I should have realized something was wrong.
But stupid said "Yes" didn't she! and now she is a Guinea-pig in this experimental 'Hyperspace-Jump-Ship'. O'k well no use whining, what is done is done. So now for 'Humankind' and the Empire, lets get this crate of a ship on it's merry way. Sickening really isn't it.
Morone give us those numbers. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Bingo!
What is Hyperspace anyway? I ask myself. Oh! It all looks good on paper. Universes of positive and negative curvature and absolutely nothing in between the curves. Not like ordinary space, they used to think there was Nothing there Either! Except Dust and Light, and we must not forget Gravity, (lots of that), Twist the nothingness vacuum of Space in curves. "E = mc2, g = am" Now where was I? Positive, negatives curves, all quite simple it seems. All I've got to do is accelerate this crate to nearly the speed of light and hit a wormhole of negative curvature as the computer winds the spacewarp up to full. That shouldn't be too hard now should it ?!
Velocity Morone? V=.5c and rising Wormhole Trajectory Search Commenced.
Who are you? Wither you go? What is your quest?
What do you mean "Who am I ?"
Who or What are you? and Where are you from?
The voice of ages past, The voice crying in the wilderness. The wilderness of time and space the voice crying for the past.
Leave me alone you silly old man, I haven't got all day to listen to your ravings. I am for Now,! Humankind and "The Empire!"
Bravado! Arrogance of imperialist scum. Your breed has already killed the Jewel of creation, for debased motives, now you
wish too spread your vileness across both space and time!
I don't care what you are. Get out of my way Flamin' way or I'll blast you into your precious history ........
Morone! Aim the heat hunting
Torpedo and get rid of that pessimistic Ghost. He should have been dead years ago.
I cannot allow this nor will I allow it! Your blood be on
your own head!
Morone, Fire! No! He's vanished and I'm the Hottest thing in light years of
The voice cries
"Before the reaper's blade come, leap !"
T, T, T, Ta Ta
T, T, T, Ta Ta
T, T, T, Tar ............
Morone, Fire! No! Ahhaarrrrrrr.
Boo. Poff. Ahh?
Ha! Ha! Har!
Morone turn this crate around, Let us forget the Empire, and to a sowing for the Messianic Message in this Apocalyptic age "Before the reaper's blade come, leap ! The Crimson flow of Love trickles down."