Czar d'Oz Episode I: Incoming

by Smitty



Start with the Czar d'Oz Announcement

I. Incoming
"This is not a test. The Obama Weather Service…"

Julius "Scare" Crowe: [Addressing a lecture hall] American history can be viewed in three stages: pre-Progressive, Progressive, and Modern Obama. The pre-Progressive phase was the worst. The tyranny of an English autocrat was rejected, triggering a necessary, if flawed period where racism was rampant. A bloody Civil War claimed hundreds of thousands of lives, and the Consitutional promise of equality was delivered, but the racism remained.

The next 140 years saw the birth of the Progressives, who understood the need to balance the Constitutional equality with the natural tendency towards racism. This would require increasingly diligent feedback from policy makers to ensure that the States took care of their citizens. The last gasp of the recidivists was the Bush administration, which threatened to plunge the whole country into a dark age.

The Modern Obama age began under something of a cloud, trying to dig the country out from under the avalance of social and economic woe visited upon us by Bush. By Barack I's closing term, the essential rights of medical coverage had been extended to all, and the economic damage brought on by the Scorched Earth Tea Baggers who resisted this improvement had begun to recede.

America's retreat from the evils of imperialism had begun under Barack I, and gathered steam under Michelle. The GOP's last gasp came in 2017, when their attempt at Social Security reform was laughed out of DC. The next year, ObamaLife absorbed it anyway.

The evil of American nationalism would not die for many decades, however. The bitter cling-ons would take another 57, yes, fif-TEE seven years before the signing of the WorldGov Treaty saw the creation of the Vortex as the successor to the United Nations in Holy Davos.

And now, 104 years after Obama, or 2112 by the Oppressor's Reckoning, is our satisfaction complete.

"…has issued a tornado warning…"

Martin Mann: You must be having me on. [Throwing small boxes over his shoulder from a large box on the work bench in front of him.]

Those supply morons have Bushed it again. You go to the staff meeting. You explain to them what you need. They spout the usual crap about the Eternals, the Vortex, the Czars. They tell you that even if you're a war hero, you're still a Brutal.

You give the best years of your life to these people. You give your health, your senses, your smarts. They give you slideshows of chewing gum for the mind. If the economy is so rosy, if the education system is so great, if there really is nothing to worry about, then why are the little things like delivering an order for electronics so hard?

Most of these pointy-headed little bureaucrats haven't ever left Kanasas, much less served in the US military. And the pitiful few that have done so sure ain't ever gone overseas to a pitiful place like Zambiniland on a WorldGov mission. How I badly want to see their little Eternal butts taken away from their precious Vortex and made to understand what the Brutals go through.
If I hadn't got blown up, I wouldn't've had a chance to learn like I did and try to do a little better in life. But now I'm forced to find a way to polish a digital turd into a shiny thing of electronic beauty. Darn right I'm pissed. Those Eternals don't care about anything but getting their kids to the right school and either an elected position or a job working for a Czar. And they really don't know jack, except how to use big words to tell you that whatever they've done wrong is really YOUR fault. [The box is empty, and Mann smashes it with a metal forearm.]

"…for this area."

Peter Lyon: [Hastens up the broad steps and into the Temple of Cyrus Rinks (sometimes erroneously termed Syrinx by young hipsters) for his meeting. A disgruntled young man bursts out of the door, face in a rage, carrying a strange, flat, figure-8 device with a long handle, having wires along it. The conference room with the meeting already in progress is just off the atrium, thankfully, directly above boss Murdoch's office, and obviates the need to go through security. He grabs a seat in the back.]

Meeting Coordinator: Oh look, we were just joined by the illustrious Peter Lyon. Peter, I know you're busy, but can you offer us the benefit of your insight? A little birdy said you were actually just at the Flyover Czar's Budget Offsite. Have you got any hot, juicy presentation bullets for the Bureau of Administrative Affairs?

Woman in Front Row: That's Administrative Actions Bureau. We just changed last week, remember?

MC: Oh, right. Thank you. Doing my best to keep up with the re-orgs. Mr. Lyon?

Peter Lyon: [Standing] Well, the news breaks down into good, bad, and unknown.

MC: Unknown, bad, good.

Peter Lyon: That is our tradition, no? All right. The unknown piece is whether of not the Flyover Czar is going to wrest more control from counties on the East side of the Mississippi from the Southern Czar. While we'd like to expand our operations, and get the budget that goes with it, those areas are some of the least economically productive in the country. Could prove a Faustian bargain--that's when you make a deal and find out that guy across the table is named Bush.

The bad news is that this weather system is spitting out some monster tornadoes, and has already done some expensive damage in Texas and Oklahoma. This could negatively affect funds for the Obama Nativity Party at the end of the year.

[The room offers a collective groan]

The good news is that the new WorldGov budget finally passed. The WorldThalers now move to New Chicago. The Kansas team looks good for the new season of Political Cage Matches that starts Monday, so our funding stream should hold steady, as long as the Flyover Czar doesn't screw things up.

"All citizens are to seek shelter immediately."

Dorothy Zeda: OK, got the last of the water. [Zeda looks up from her clipboard at a worker in a jumpsuit. They stand in a basement area, to the right of stairs coming down.] We've got the combat rations, the medical supplies, the extra nylons. All of the windows are boarded. The blankets, the cots, and the batteries. Anything we're missing?

Worker: Nope, Zeda, we got it all. Except some dice, maybe?

Zeda: You little scamps do what you will, just don't come whining to me when all your WorldThalers are gone. The only sympathy you'll get from me will be delivered by 20 feet of bull whip. You got that?

[Worker smiles at the thought. People are coming down the stairs.]

Zeda: OK, this shelter is divided up into sleeping and recreational areas. Probably everyone is too worried to sleep. There is a copy of WorldGov Saves Zambiniland which is about to start playing, so pull up chairs and relax. We'll get through this storm in style.

[Crowe enters]

Crowe: Hi, Zeda. WorldGov Saves Zambiniland is a great patriotic film to show. Will you flog me if I yell out lines at the good parts?

Zeda: Of course not. You know all of the lines. I'm too busy for a session now.

[Mann enters, unsteadily, and has to stomp his foot to unfreeze the joint.]

Zeda: We're playing your show.

Mann: Great. I'd rather have a working leg.

[Lyon enters]

Lyon: Am I the last one in?

Zeda: Indeed you are.

Lyon: Then close the hatch. I fear this one's a doozy.

Episode II: Wreckage

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith