Czar d'Oz Episode X: Dénouement

by Smitty



Start with the Czar d'Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They've survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas. In Vegas they form an alliance with Jefe, the Southwest Czar, to take a short cut to the Emerald City. The trip lands them in Vancouver, Washington, slightly South of the destination. Driving North, they are greeted at the edge of Seattle with a large explosion. Saving the life of Czar d'Oz, they were given the keys to the kingdom, which they turned to their advantage.

[2121. Pike Place Market, in Seattle. A round table across the street from the original Starbucks, which forms the background. Summer. A player on ukelele is off to stage left.]

"America's my girl..."

Peter: We don't get together enough anymore. How are you guys doing?

Martin: Can't complain.

Zeda: Things just couldn't be better.

Julius: I've got something to go on about it, but let's hear from you all first. Peter: how is the election forecast? I heard our Vortex might lose some clout.

Peter: Oh, the usual. Only the candidate with the name 'Obama' seems to have any national credibility. The alternative parties seem to be a bunch of morons, overt criminals, or knuckle-dragging historical throwbacks, as always. The irony is that, for all the Obamas and the Czarocracy have held power all this time, those opposing ne'er-do-wells still manage to foil the best-planned lays of mighty mice and socialist men.

The Obama strategy seems to be (a) Fear the Army of Strawmen, and (b) re-conquer them every election. We've got a few new ploys to make the Flyover Czar and the Northeast Czar look more stupid than usual. And we just broke up another plot to infiltrate the social networking system, like those two Czars did last mid-term.

Julius: Yeah, but the legerdemain is so much more tolerable if you just join the Vortex and participate therein, as we've discovered, haven't we?

Martin: Yep. [Flexing limbs.] Got an iron fist on the supply chain. Staying in spare parts is a breeze. It's tedious, though. I keep having to explain 'fair' for the new meat. After a while, they figure out 'fair' is whatever works for me. They quit asking. Then they start working to arrange stuff. They figure out 'fair' can support them, too. Just as long as it supports me in the end. The chain of command is a beautiful thing. Once everyone is onboard. Eternals are Eternals, Brutals are Brutals. You try to leave the routes open for them to move up. Like we did. But mostly the Brutals are content.

Julius: Sweet, sweet patronage. It's what made Rome great, and it's the glue holding America together. Zeda: how is the acting career going?

Zeda: I'm enjoying it. Getting the scripts past the censors is tough sometimes--

Peter: Sorry to hear that. Are any of them getting too uppity? I can have them re-assigned to voter registration or some other task that will have them dealing with Brutals. That usually helps them be less full of themselves.

Of course, you do understand the need to keep the Brutals pacified, don't you? It's a delicate balance, making sure we hold what we've got. The less clever must be trained to buy into the various "justice" and "rights" myths that we perpetuate, while that entitlement choke-chain stays just loose enough.

Zeda: Yeah, sometimes I want to just do a classic work, like an Oedipus Rex or a Waiting for Godot without having it turned into a variation on the theme of "Beelze-Bush the Anti-Obama", or "opposing the Obamas is racism", or "America the guilty-ful".

Peter: Is there still room for artistic expression while remaining loyal to the group of 17 Eternal Czars?

Zeda: Oh, sure. Let's not look the gift whores in the mouths. Things could be so much worse. I'm just wondering if things couldn't be better if the outcome of all the novels and movies wasn't always predictable.

"...but she has lost her way..."

Julius: An interesting thought. What I wanted to tell you guys about is a cache of history books I found at a dacha in the Cascades. No more detail than that, lest there be repreisals against the original owner. Which should clue you that I'm only telling you this in the strictest confidence--we could lose everything if word gets out.

The thing is that American history is like a parabola. Freedom increased from the Revolutionary War to the Federal Reserve Act. By then, the US government had diminshed the power of the 50 States via income tax and direct election of Senators. Once they had their own bankers, the American aristocracy could germinate. It rose like bread on a yeast of debt and globalization.
The Tea Party movement of the first Obama administration was the last gasp of the original, independent American spirit. However, the neo-aristocrats had such a grip on the media that no amount of exposed scandal could shake their grip.

Too, the knowledge that the amount of debt was so staggering, the pain of facing the decades of systematic larceny, made the glib words and cheap assignments of blame very easy to accept.
Like Israelites in a desert of debt without a Moses, it was easy for the American people to reject freedom, to scuttle the rigors of preparing for a promised land, and to return to the predictable comfort and occasional whip of their overlord of old.

So that parabola of freedom peaked about 100 years ago. We came here from Topeka those years ago to try to escape this modern American debt slavery. The cache of books I found has writings from as late as 20 years ago discussing the efforts around the country to build a network of people dedicated to the spirit of the Founding Fathers, not the neo-aristocratic people who followed them. Are you interested in taking on some risk? Some adventure? Some action to resurrect the ideals upon which this country was founded, not this horrible, decadent Vortex of progressivism?

Peter: I've always felt that change must occur within the system through evolution, not revolution.

Martin: My oath is to support and defend the Constitution. That has been amended to include all of the writings and speeches of Barack Hussein Obama. Maybe you can show that the whole thing isn't working. But I doubt it.

Zeda: Look. I've made it big. I don't feel that guilty about it. And if I do feel guilty, I do an ad supporting the Obamas.

Julius: It was an idea. As adventurous as our road trip in TOTO those years ago. Forget I said anything. Are we allowed to ask how things worked out between you and Barry Cuda?

Zeda: No, but obviously you want more than that. Let's say that he was a slow thinker, in terms of that old lyric by that forgotten local band Heart: "If the real thing don't do the trick / You better think of something quick." Politicians: can't live *with* them, and the more kinetic alternatives will land you in jail.

"...so hear me now lament."

[The ukelele player at stage left picks up a lilting, sad little waltz tune and croons:]

America's my girl,
  but she has lost her way,
    so hear me now lament.

She only wants to play,
  to primp and toss and twirl,
    though all the cash is spent.

For all the wise would say,
  "You've got to pay the rent,
    before the hair you curl,"

To slavery she's bent,
  on sugar daddy day,
    though he be a squirrel.

That foolish element,
  the pig's snout with a pearl,
    still prattles on so gay.

What if she gave a whirl,
  and tried to leave a dent,
    by offering a NAY?

Let freedom's flag unfurl,
  facing fascist flambé,
    becoming confident.

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d'Oz Episode IX: Lab

by Smitty



Start with the Czar d'Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They've survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas. In Vegas they form an alliance with Jefe, the Southwest Czar, to take a short cut to the Emerald City. The trip lands them in Vancouver, Washington, slightly South of the destination. Driving North, they are greeted at the edge of Seattle with a large explosion. Saving the life of Czar d'Oz, they are given the keys to the kingdom, which they turn to their advantage.

"...you're more resourceful..."

[A lab scene. A control console with lots of panels at stage left, a raised dias with four pointy gadgets at stage right. Big power panel at stage rear.]

Peter: This lab looks really clean.

Julius: I should hope so. The last experiment was just a few weeks back. It's the new quarter, and, as you might know, there is always a thumb-wrestling match getting all the funds to trickle down from the Treasury to fund the next go-round.

Martin: Is there a lightoff procedure?

Zeda: That would appear to be this. [Pulls out a fat binder from between the display panels at stage left.] Shall we?

Martin: Sure.

Zeda: Ok. Energize all power panels.

Martin: Ok. [He begins energizing breakers. A hum arizes.]

Zeda: Boot control software server.

Julius: That would be this box here. [Reaches under the panel to turn on a CPU box.]

Peter: Ah, Windows XXXVII. Some parasites manage to keep the host alive. We're fully booted, Zeda.

Zeda: Indeed. Run the calibration routine.

Peter: Calibrating.

Zeda: Now, we're agreed that we're escaping to Spring 2008, where we can warn the people that electing a Marxist-in-Centrist clothing is suicide?

Julius: It's already too late at that point. You're only popping a zit, not tackling the acne. We could also consider 1908, and warn the people that the Progressive movement threatens the complexion of American politics, and sets the stage for authoritarian pimples.

Martin: But that's before the electric guitar. Can we make multiple trips?

Peter: Absolutely no idea, but probably not. Ok, the calibration is complete. Everyone has their toothbrushes and valuables? We should assemble on the dias.

[They do.]

Peter: Right. We have a three minute timer, starting…NOW. [He walks from the control panel, across the stage, to join the rest. The timer on the big screen rolls ahead to the final ten seconds.]

(together): 9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1...?

Peter: Oh, for crying out loud. I followed the procuedure.

"…than I thought,"

[Enter Czar d'Oz, stage left.]

Czar d'Oz: Yes, Peter, the system worked exactly according to design.

Martin: Nothing happened.

Czar d'Oz: Oh, much has happened in the decades this project has run. Look at this equipment. Look at these buildings. Look at the budget, man. From a bureaucratic perspective, this project is a smashing success.

Julius: But that is a pure fraud!

Czar d'Oz: Fraud, shmaud. All the regional Czars have these pet projects, from warp drive to genetic editing, to artificial intelligence. They're the prime conduit for R&D earmark cash. None of them work, or will work. But we play our game, we do our dance, we take our cash, and then we spend it on more traditional prostitutes.

Peter: The dishonesty shown to the citizens is astonishing.

Czar d'Oz: Look, if everyone is a liar, then no one is. The only problem with the patronage system arises when somebody fails to understand the dichotomy between the written Constitution of the United States and the reality that there hasn't been a legitimate election in decades. This triggers outbursts of whining among youthful idealists.

Zeda: This country has been turned into a third-world hell.

Czar d'Oz: It's the triumph of capitalism. Everything is for sale, including the government. The question is not "should there be business". Rather, it is "should there be more than one real business." The answer, for the last century, has been "NO". Appearances are maintained, celebrated even. The election this November promises to be an outpouring of patriotic fervor unmatched by any previous one. The fact that none of the candidates or the legislation actually matter isn't something that will trouble the Brutals, who shall go on being fed, and receiving medical management until their utility to the Vortex expires.

"…to have escaped that trap."

[Enter a man on crutches, stage right. Barry Cuda, a.k.a. Captain Jacob Kleindrubble, a.k.a Raina Petkoff]

Cuda: I've found you, you bastard.

Czar d'Oz: Well, you're more resourceful than I thought, to have escaped that trap.

Cuda: Your other sons are foppish nitwits. Why don't you just recognize me?

Czar d'Oz: You're an incompetent gambler and a double agent for my foe, Czar Jefe. Admittedly, these are as much features as bugs, but I don't trust you.

Cuda: You've brought in four people from absolutely nowhere and given them massive responsibility!

Czar d'Oz: Oh, come on. These people have no real clout. The easiest way to figure out what they were doing was to appear to give them free reign. It turned out all they wanted was to see the time machine hoax.

I'll tell you what: come back tomorrow with a fresh attitude, and we'll see if you can find some means of regaining my good graces. Come up with a plan. Have it involve guiding the course of the elections this November. Let's increase the family power, shall we? That's the only thing we live for, you know: the power.

[Addressing the four]

So, there's the rub. This country has opted for increasingly centralized control for the last two centuries. It didn't happen over night. Creating the Vortex was a slow project, brought in incrementally for a sleeping, Brutal populace. They could have paid attention, and did not. Blame the victim? Damn right I do.

Your quest, like elections for the last century in this country, was a sham. But at least I got that TOTO car out of it.

Tomorrow: Dénouement

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d'Oz Episode VIII: Seattle

by Smitty



Start with the Czar d'Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They've survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas. In Vegas they form an alliance with Jefe, the Southwest Czar, to take a short cut to the Emerald City. The trip lands them in Vancouver, Washington, slightly South of the destination. Driving North, they are greeted at the edge of Seattle with a large explosion.

"I tracked down..."

[The bottom of an overturned car dominates the stage. Zeda, Martin, Julius and Peter are in front of it.]

Martin: No smell of gas fumes. We won't be a fireball real soon. Not like the bastards ahead of this car.

Peter: Maybe we should just wait for the first responders.

Julius: In contemporary America, first responders are notional unless you're in a Vortex.

Zeda: [Peeks around rear end] It looks like there is someone in the back! HELLO! Tell me if you can move your arms and legs! [Muffled sounds] Martin, he says he can. No neck injuries to him. The driver is unconscious. Can we right the car?

Martin: Let me try. Peter, Julius, move!

[Martin reaches up and pulls the top of the car toward the audience, and it flops down onto its wheels.]

Martin: The driver is dead. [Turns towards the man in back.] What is your name sir?

Czar d'Oz: [Sounding dazed.] I am Bartholemew Murdoch, the Northwest Czar, commonly known as Czar d'Oz, since we originally came from Australia. Can you get me back to Mercer Island?

"…the lab location over at…"

[A luxurious room on Mercer Island, where all five are now sunk into a sectional, with beverages.]

Julius: We met rather informally earlier. I'm Julius Crowe, this is Peter Lyon, Martin Mann, and Dorothy Zeda.

Czar d'Oz: Thank you for saving my life. You do realize I know all about TOTO. Even though Justin is a complete idiot most of the time, though not as bad a fool as Jeremy, we're still in contact. Either you have no sense of direction whatsoever, or your supposed mission to New Chicago was a deception.

Peter: Well, while today's introduction was hardly a job interview, it does get at the point that we're looking for work. Flyover country is relatively dull compared to the excitement you have occuring in these parts. Is it OK if we ask whether that was an assassination attempt?

Czar d'Oz: Attempt, hell, it was a success. Almost an over-achievement. The fireball you probably saw on I-495 was formerly known as Barry Cuda, my military advisor and spy for Czar Jefe down in Vegas. All of the moves I'd been making to shore up control of Oregon in time for the election this Fall were given away.

There was supposed to be a Czar meeting with Barack Soros in New Chicago today. I really need to be here more than there. So it seemed that rubbing out the traitor in such a way as to give me an excuse for not attending would kill two with one stone bird.

I gave Jeremy the task of finding the right Special Operations people who could do the job and yet were junior enough not to be under Cuda's control. It looks like he really did nearly kill two with one stone bird.

Martin, you've an aptitude for being in the right place at the right time, and plenty of military record, and I'm certain you're equipped to clean house among my military advisors. Would you like to swear the explicit oath to the Constitution we lip service, and the implicit oath to work for me? Peter, Julius, Dorothy: you've also arrived at a hiring moment. My various administrative areas are in need of a shakeout. All four of you have the same offer in front of you. You can ponder this, and we'll meet again tomorrow to see what you think.

"… the University of Washington."

[The four are seated around a circular meeting table.]

Peter: Last night I searched on the network and located documents pertaining to the time machine project. It's been funded heavily for the last decade, I find, and has grown quite an impressive staff.

Julius: You're stealing my thunder. I tracked down the lab location over at the University of Washington.

Zeda: How soon can we get out of here? Czar d'Oz is promising me all kinds of film roles, but it looks like more of a casting couch.

Martin: The military side is OK. The good news is that I've got a few people I know. The bad news is that they're all on the outside of anything important. You always have to prove yourself. Tomorrow at UW, then? I can drive Peter and Zeda to your office, Julius.

The Stunning Climax in: the Lab!

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d'Oz Episode VII: Vancouver

by Smitty



Start with the Czar d'Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They've survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas. In Vegas they form an alliance with Jefe, the Southwest Czar, to take a short cut to the Emerald City. The trip lands them in Vancouver, Washington, slightly South of the destination.

"Spend more time…"

[On the pier in Vancouver, reversing the previous scene. The crane lifts TOTO off the ship. Frothy addresses Martin and Zeda, who prop up Julius and Peter between them.]

Martin: So, what's the deal with this line shaft bearing casualty? There is interesting conversation down the pier. The people here to hook up the water, sewage, electricity are being waved off. I heard the crew being told not to double the mooring lines. You're leaving as soon as you unload us, aren't you?

Frothy: The walls have ears, the ears have noses, and the noses have eyes. I will let you know that your team was never more than a cover story, and there was no intention of ever going to Seattle. The drama with the USS Ayers was unscripted, but the rest is playing out as intended.

Martin: Fair enough. Maybe, someday, a beer and a full story. Until then, I'll take this much.

Frothy: Spoken like a man who knows how it goes. Now, as your plans have been rather rudely upended, I suggest you relax at a hotel nearby for a day, and then press on to Seattle. Here is a suggestion. [Hands a piece of paper to Zeda.]

"…sizing up…"

[Zeda, Martin, Peter, and Julius are in a cutaway TOTO, facing the audience. The screen behind shows Vancouver rolling by.]

Peter: So, what do we do now? Just drive up I-5 to Seattle? We've got to figure out how to link up with Captain Kleindrubble.

Martin: We first stay cool.

Julius: Easy for you to say. We've got families and friends we'd like to let know we're alive.

Martin: We died when that first air car blew up on Leisurely Drive.

Zeda: [Facing the two in the rear-view mirror.] That's right. You bureaucrats and academics are all about avoiding commitment. "Flexibility is the key to indecision," and you guys are Gumby and Pokey, if you've ever heard of them.

We're in this to the end. We're going to find this time machine and escape this third-world version of the US. Maybe even warn the people of this country that giving up their liberty to the House of Obama and the Czars was not what they thought it would be.

"…the situation."

[A hotel restaurant. Zeda, Martin, Peter, and Julius sit at a table left of stage center, chatting. Three soldiers in fatigues enter and sit at another table right of stage center. A waiter takes their drink order. Some cable news channel plays on the screen at stage rear.]

Martin: How're you kids doing? Name's Martin. What's shaking?

Ralph: Lieutenant Colonel Ralph Morris, Washington National Guard. Major Frank Jones and Captain Henry Tate, respectively. It looks like you've seen some action.

Martin: Here and there. I wasn't aware of any National Guard armory around here. Is something up?

Ralph: Oh, nothing too exciting. Heading down to Oregon for routine maneuvers with their Guard. It's been in the hopper for a while. Kind of hope that this influx of people from California

[nods head toward the screen] keeps things nice and boring.

Justin: Really? What are the media drones on about now?

Ralph: Just some wacky group of revolutionaries have been shaken loose from Flyover Country by all that bad weather, and they're cruising around the country stirring up hate and discontent. There is an FBI warrant and a bulletin from the Domestic Tranquility Czar calling for information on a gang led by "Red Zeda," a supposedly statuesque redhead. She's purportedly got a gang of violent ruffians who will stop at nothing to overthrow the government. They were last seen in California, and moving North.

Peter: And so you guys are notionally on maneuvers, but actually part of a dragnet set out to stop these madmen and woman before their evil spreads.

Ralph: Well, I never said that to you. No, old Barry Cuda has us jumping through hoops with our hair on fire, trying to curry favor with the Czar, like always.

Peter: It can't be any fun to be ripped away from the Emerald City, the Land of Endless Lattes, the Seat of Czar d'Oz, for this bit of silliness. Who is this Barry?

Ralph: The commander of the Northwest Czar's ground troops. He's probably taking good care of our wives back home, as we speak. [The other officers glare.]

"OK"

[The TOTO cutaway is at center stage, facing stage right. Forest goes by on the screen at stage rear.]

Peter: We're to head down to a bar called the Mohican at Pioneer Square, and meet Barry Cuda? Czar Jefe really has a spy who commands Czar d'Oz's ground troops, and he's going to meet us in a bar?

Julius: Oh for heaven's sake, Peter, of course not. We inquire after him there, and there will be a breadcrumb to get us to the next step. Some patience and savvy required.

Zeda: Let's see, we're just East of SeaTac on I-5, still South of Seattle. We're actually ahead of schedule. Do we need to stop and review anything for anyone?

Martin: No, mobility is our friend. We can get in there early. Spend more time sizing up the situation. OK, we should see Southcenter Mall to our right ahead. Yes, that looks like your standard shopping mall. Fine. We jus--

[Boom! The car shakes...]

Next Episode: Seattle

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d'Oz Episode VI: Sandog

by Smitty



Start with the Czar d'Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They've survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas. In Vegas they form an alliance with Jefe, the Southwest Czar, to take a short cut to the Emerald City.

"General quarters, general quarters…"

[A pier. The screen shows a warship in profile. An unseen crane is lowering TOTO to the tiny flight deck of the ship. Captain Horatio Frothinghampton, Julius, Peter, Martin, and Zeda are on the pier. Frothy holds a document with thick fold lines in front of himself, and addresses the four.]

Frothy: What kind of a fool's errand is this? "Spec Ops Team", my Neon. White. Ass. You two [nodding at Julius and Peter] have obviously never fired anything heavier than a PowerPoint bullet. Ms. Zeda here could easily beat either one of you. What's that hint of a smile, Julius? Martin is the only one of you worth a fart in a firefight. Sorry Dorothy.

Can I talk you out of bringing the chariot? That car on USS Alinsky has the appeal of a brickload on a greyhound. Orders are orders, but loyalty to country and crew requires I at least ask.

And what's this "Infiltrate Seattle?" You realize that there is a vessel traffic safety system in Puget Sound? They'll have mustered a full-on pipe band to greet the four of you geniuses at the pier.

Forget I said any of that. Czars are Czars. Eternals are Eternals. Other than informing you that this trip is as transparent as a lie on a politician, I've no need or desire to know any of the details.

Ms. Zeda, you'll sleep in the sick bay. Julius, Peter, and Martin, I believe the Executive Officer has you in the Chief's Mess. High tide's in six hours. I request you be aboard, with your last bit of toiletry shopping done, in four, so we can set the Sea and Anchor Detail smoothly. I like it smooth.

"All hands man…"

[A bridge scene in red light, with darken ship set. Martin talks to Frothy, who is seated in his Captain's chair. They have coffee.]

Frothy: How are your compatriots doing?

Martin: Zeda's wishing she'd gone into the Navy instead of hotel management. Julius is winning the quantitative end of the barfing contest. I think Peter still has the edge in distance. Those guys are laid out in the stateroom. Trying to keep them hydrated.

What's it like in the modern Navy, Captain?

Frothy: It's all the same. We swear the same oath we always have. The President has the regional Czars. The Northwest Czar owns the 7th Fleet, since they were retracted from Japan in 2059. I work for the Southwest Czar, of course. 3rd Fleet has been out of San Diego since Noah was a bosun. Each fleet still keeps one aircraft carrier in commission, though parts and funding are hard to come by, and deployments are irregular. Why deploy when the two West Coast carriers have to share an air wing?

The bulk of the Navy is small sea control units like Alinsky. This is about the 4th generation of the Littoral Combat Ship concept. Alinsky, of course, is the best damn ship in the Navy. We've just been in the yards for hull cleaning and refit--she was looking a bit rough when I took command, I'll admit, but she's clean and ready for action.

Martin: How do you call a ship named for a man a 'she'?

Frothy: Why are all German rabbits der hase? One could say it hearkens back to a pre-Obama gender consciousness. One could also say that Saul Alinsky was a bitch. Or, one could just accept that we have these traditions older than the US Constitution, and no amount of political wind-shifting shall alter this cultural glue that holds us together.

Martin: Fair enough. Where are you from?

Frothy: I'm from just outside of Portland, Oregon. I've been sailing these waters all me bloomin' life, and will probably retire to be a ship's pilot around here.

And what of you? You're a veteran of that expedition into Zambiniland at the end of Patrick Daley Obama III's administration 20 years back, no? I presume that's how you got so shot up. That is, if you're inclined to speak of it.

Martin: What's to say? Zambiniland didn't pay their vig. Or their leaders got uppity. Or some Eternal wanted to clear out the territory for a new golf course. Or the arms merchants needed to clear inventory. Or the Pentagon wanted live fire training. Or the Indo-Russian alliance needed taming. Or all of the above. Davos gave the signal. We packed up and deployed. We got there and were mostly bored, with occasional firefights. And severe injuries. Also, lots of civilian casualties.

Frothy: I was an Ensign. We spent the whole conflict anchored at Fernando Poo. This was due to low fuel, and the Zambini Navy, of which exactly no units in their Order of Battle ever got underway. Your analysis is as good as any I've heard, by the way.

Martin: Well, I'm getting some sleep. We're two days out of Seattle?

Frothy: Yes. Around tomorrow midnight we'll be near the mouth of the Straits of Juan de Fuca, or Straits of Wanna Shagya, as they say. We'll take the low-traffic entry at night and aim to be in Seattle in the early morning.

Martin: Great. Thanks.

"…your battle stations."

[Morning. General quarters. The bridge. Frothy, wearing binoculars, bridge-to-bridge handset at the ready, stands at center stage by a pelorus. The helm and lee helm are manned. There is a flashing light both at stage left and right. A quartermaster is at the light at stage right. Everyone is in battle dress. Zeda, Martin, Julius, and Peter are at stage rear, out of the way. Martin and Julius are both hanging from a cable running from left to right across the bridge in the overhead. Their heads hang down in exhaustion.]

Frothy: Belvedere, what is the status?

Commander Belevedere, the Executive Officer (XO): Sir, the USS Ayers, one of our 7th Fleet sister ships, under command of CAPT Jeremy Murdoch, has signaled intent to stop and search us.

Frothy: Screw me gently with a chainsaw. [Keys the bridge-to-bridge radio] Ayers, this is Alinsky: Murdoch, lay by your dish.

[The quartermaster codes furiously on the light. The words scroll up the right half of the screen at stage rear like a chat room transcript.]

Alinsky QM: (WTF?)

Ayers QM: (Murdoch pissed, screams you're smuggling. Frothy won't get by him.)

Frothy: Ahead flank 3.

Helmsman: All ahead flank 3, aye. Port and starboard engines ahead flank 3.

Murdoch B2B: Alinsky, Ayers: Heave to. Steer course 190 at 5 knots. Let's have a cup of coffee.

Frothy: This Murdoch has been an upward-failing loser his entire life, like that degenerate brother of his, Justin. [Keys the B2B, snarling] Ayers, Alinsky: Why don't you tell me what you read in the news today, Plebe? [Puts down the radio] What I'm about to do simply couldn't happen to a bigger jackass.

[The screen at stage rear shows the tracks of the two ships. Ayers comes down from the North, Alinsky up from the South. They pass several hundred yards apart, Alinsky East, closer to shore.]

Frothy: Left full rudder.

Helmsman: Left full rudder, aye. My rudder is left full.

[The stage tilts towards stage left, and Julius and Peter sag and moan. The quartermaster on the flashing light moves laboriously across the stage using the wire to man the other flashing light.]

Ayers QM: (Murd yells, flank 3, we chase. Our XO warns CO to calm down.)

Alinsky QM: (Frothy in yr CO's head.)

Murdoch B2B: Alinsky, Ayers: You're in my waters. I'm within my rights. Don't make this worse than necessary.

Frothy: [Eyeing pelorus] Rudder amidships. Steady course 090.

Helmsman: Rudder amidships, aye. My rudder is amidships. [The stage returns to level.] Steady course 090.

Frothy: [Keys the B2B] Ayers, Alinsky. Plebe, you have neither any idea what you're talking about nor business standing on the bridge of a warship endangering good sailors. Break off pursuit now, and I'll forget the ass you've already made of yourself.

Ayers QM: (Murdoch threw XO off the bridge.)

Alinsky QM: (No f'ing way.)

Ayers QM: (Way)

[The left side of the screen shows the two ships driving at the Oregon shore at high speed.]

Frothy: [Bending over pelorus intently, shooting an angle out in the right side of the audience] Quiet! In about 40 seconds, I will be giving an order for left full rudder, and we'll shoot a narrow gap in a submerged ridge that only a local would know about. Murdoch's crew should be telling him to do a crash back right now and avoid the shoal waters, or not. Stand by…LEFT FULL RUDDER! [The stage again tilts towards stage left, and the quartermaster works his way back to his original position.]

Helmsman: Left full rudder, aye. My rudder is left--.

Frothy: RUDDER AMIDSHIPS! ALL AHEAD ONE THIRD!

Helmsman: Rudderamidshipsaye, myrudderisamidships. Allaheadonethirdaye, allaheadonethird.

Ayers QM: (Aground!)

Frothy: Left standard rudder.

Helmsman: Left standard rudder, aye. My rudder is left 15 degrees, no new course given.

Frothy: Steady as she goes.

Helmsman: Steady as she goes, aye. Steady course 080.

Frothy: Very well. [Keys the B2B] Ayers, Alinsky. Standing by to render assistance. What is your status?

Ayers XO: Sir, Ayers XO here. I have assumed command. Captain Murdoch is down. We are in radio contact with 7th Fleet, they're dispatching a wrecker to assist us getting off of this rock. Respectfully recommend that you lock up your logs and put in to Everett, Washington to await the admiralty hearing, sir. Ayers out.

Ayers QM: (CO struck a lookout. Bosun got up. Laid CO out. CO very still.)

[Another officer, the Chief Engineer, enters from stage rear.]

CHENG: Captain. I'm not sure if a propeller knicked the seamount during the gymnastics, but I've got a hot starboard line shaft bearing, and I recommend we don't go above all ahead one third until I've had time to stop things and inspect it.

Frothy: Very well. XO, you have the deck. Get us moving towards Vancouver, Washington at one third. I have to draft a message to 3rd Fleet explaining what I understand to be the situation, that a 7th Fleet ship is aground, and I have an engineering casualty requiring immediate attention. I also have to call some people in Vancouver to make arrangements.

Next Episode: Vancouver.

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d'Oz Episode V: Vegas

by Smitty



Start with the Czar d'Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They've survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas.


"Look, they're lying."

[In the office of the Assistant Dean for Advanced Progressive Liberal Diversity Studies at UNLV. A desk, a bored secretary at stage center right, with Julius, Zeda, Martin and Peter at stage right. A wall divides the stage in two, with Assistant Dean Wentworth in a chair, picking his nose.]

Julius: Hello, I'm Julius Crowe, from Patrick Daley Obama University in Topeka. I'm wondering if Dean Wentworth has a moment to spare?

Secretary: [Nasal voice] I'm afraid he's occupied.

Julius: I should mention that I'm an article referee for the Journal of Hope and Change, and I have some questions for Dean Wentworth regarding a special issue we're preparing to support the election this Fall.

Secretary: [Nasal voice] I'm afraid he's digging in deep on his current task.

Julius: [Sighing] Oh, and another topic at hand is a research grant proposal from the Flyover Czar to inquire about the "Effects of the Crash of 2047 on the Racial Fairness of Gaming Rights in Southern Nevada," emphasizing of course the terrible plight of the several hundred Uighur poker dealers who migrated to Topeka.

Secretary: [Nasal voice] Oh, well, let me see if he has a moment, then. [Addressing an intercom] Dean Wentworth, sorry to bother you, but a Julius Crowe is here to see you.

"How, exactly…"

[Julius enters the office at stage left, leaving the other three with the secretary.]

Julius: Zoggie, old boy: your secretary is new and rather difficult to get 'round.

Wentworth: Oh, well, you know how it has gone. Working diligently to expand the field. The problematic nature of the cultivation of understanding amongst these Eternals, and worse still, the Czars. The academy is so little respected! Would you care for some tea, old chap?

Julius: I'm afraid I left some fellow-travelers to the mercy of your secretary. There has been a bit of a road trip, as a result of the recent weather in flyover country, you see.

Wentworth: Oh, dear. I'm afraid I haven't got any convenient visiting professorships to offer, though, come to think of it, the Inter-species Mating Rights and Habits Studies may have a…heh…opening. Sorry.

Julius: Well, I wasn't really out for a job so much as a bit of parking and some directions to where the Southwest Czar might be found.

Wentworth: Is that all? How am I to place you eternally in my debt if you don't take any liberties? I still owe you deeply for saving my skin back during the--

Julius: I'll hear no more of that talk. Though, if there is a visiting professor bungalow I could mooch for a day or two, as a base of operations.

Wentworth: Sure. Here are the keys. The address is…

"…I'm not sure."

[In the Great Hall of Czar's Palace, the casino floor has been emptied and replaced with a vast garden of plants that grow tall from halogen lighting. A dais is at stage left, with a few craps tables in front of it. Then the garden begins. Peter, Zeda, Martin, and Julius enter at stage right and advance, looking around, toward the dais. Czar Carlos ("Jefe") Schwarzenegger IV sits on a throne in a Miami Vice suit.]

Peter: Greetings, Czar Schwarzenegger!

Jefe: Please, call me Jefe. Formality is crap.

Peter: Fair enough. We're come from the territory of the Flyover Czar, as a result of the wreckage of that tornado, as you know. When it became obvious that other players in Topeka were going to have the upper hand on us, we thought we could add the most value to the country and our own well-being if we found somebody who could appreciate something possibly helpful.

Jefe: Go on.

Peter: As it turns out, there was a son of Czar d'Oz exiled to Topeka. The damage to his office uncovered certain information that, played properly at the New Chicago Vortex, cold hurt both the Flyover Czar and Czar d'Oz, conveniently in time for the election in November.
We request your aid in travelling to Seattle, were we might link up with the Environmental Czar, Phelandria Garofalo-Maddow, the infamous "Phlegm", to start a disinformation campaign that will weaken both of them, thereby strengthening you.

Jefe: No, I will not ally with any Eternals 'reproducing' by unspeakable means. But some aspects of your idea do not suck completely. The story that will accidentally leak is that you're travelling up I-5 to sneak into Seattle and discredit old d'Oz. You're disguised, albeit ineptly as union muscle sent to Southern Oregon to help with the election.

Meanwhile, you and your fellows get down to San Diego, where one of my 3rd Fleet ships will take you and your gear for a ride up the coast. That will save you time and hassle. Who would be good for this job? Oh, Captain Horatio Frothinghampton on USS Alinsky will likely be just the man and ship for the job. When you get to Seattle, I'll need to have you track down a certain Barry Cuda at a bar called the Mohican in Pioneer Square, who will help you get in touch with the Pacific Rim Czar. PRC is far more sympathetic to my cause than Phlegm.

Come back here tomorrow at nine o'clock for the orders to take with you. None of this is handled electronically, you understand? The wires cause fires.

Peter: We are in your debt, Jefe.

"This entire plan…"

[The four leave. An aide comes to the dais.]

Jefe: Look, they're lying. How, exactly, I'm not sure. This entire plan is bollocks. But it's low-risk, high-gain bollocks. If they survive the journey, i.e. if Frothinghampton doesn't find them out and give them a swimming lesson, then we'll see if "Barry Cuda" Kleindrubble can use them. Or PRC.

Aide: Very good, Jefe.

Next Episode: Sandog.

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d'Oz Episode IV: Porch

by Smitty



Start with the Czar d'Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar.

"I have some people…"

[A porch at stage left with two men sitting in chairs on it. A Colorado flag flies by the porch, along with a ObamaUS flag, bearing BHO's face and the usual red and white stripes. There is a sound of a car door slamming offstage. Zeda, Martin, Julius and Peter walk onstage.]

Stacy: Are you guys from the Post Office? Did you bring the O-Dough?

Zeda: Are you Brutals running a bakery?

Smitty: That's pretty funny, but no. By the way, I'm Smitty, and that is Stacy.

Peter: Then just what are you two doing here, if I may be so inquisitive?

Stacy: Waiting for the big bailout. The Obama Administration has promised to fix all woes, to tissue all tears, and to line all wallets with frogskins. While there have been delays, we patiently await the reward for our patience.

Julius: Just how long have you been waiting?

Smitty: We're what? The second or third generation?

Stacy: I don't know. Who cares? We've just been waiting all this time.

Peter: Who is President now?

Smitty: An Obama, like always. Peace be upon him.

Peter: Which Obama?

Smitty: Barack Obama.

Peter: Which? There has been Barack Hussein Obama, Barack Hussein Obama II from 2057 to 2065, and we're under the second administration of Barack Soros Obama in the year 2112, or year 104 of the Era of Hope, if you're one of those.

Stacy: We knew all that.

Julius: And do you know that Washington DC ceased to be the capital at the Tri-Centennial? And did you know that the shift to the New Chicago Vortex was a complete joke, since the de facto capitol of the US, and also the world, has been the Davos, Switzerland Vortex since 2074?
Smitty: I was led to believe there would be no history lesson connected with your visit. I just want my O-Dough.

Peter: This is the point: there IS NO O-Dough. The currency is WorldThalers, but a Brutal like you won't get any of them.

"….at UNLV…"

Stacy: How dare you, sir! Why not?

Peter: It's all patronage these days. If you want to get anywhere in life, you have to find your local Eternal and convince them that you have something to offer. You might get hired, but, more likely, you'll be given something menial to do. You offspring, should any woman be so desperate, might have a chance of promotion to Eternal, if you hang around the Vortex long enough.

Smitty: But the health care? The bailouts? The O-Dough? The environmental justice? The end to racism?

Martin: You can get some of that in the military. The Service is going to have to spend some time getting you two right in the head first.

Stacy: How can you call us wrong? Promises were made. Understandings shared. Assurances proffered. Our rights are at stake here.

Zeda: The only promise that was kept was that the wealth would be re-distributed. And it has been. Across the whole flipping world. The Vortex concentrated power. Elected officials became the Eternals. The elite among the Eternals are the Czars. The rest of us "little people" are Brutals, enslaved to feeding the machine.

The Constitution is fetished like something pornographic. The speeches and writings of Barack Hussein Obama are consulted like legal opinions by the so-called judges.

Oh, they went on and on about more "rights". Those could be summarized as the right to be treated like little children regardless of age. And they took liberty in the name of providing those "rights", the swine. And sovereignty from our country. And money from our wallets. And, in the case of you two, the brains out of your heads. Just how old are you clowns?

Smitty: Oh, we're both North of 50.

Julius: Oh, really? Well, you're encouraged to remain healthy then. ObamaLife starts to taper off past three-score for Brutals. Like we said, it's not likely that you guys can do much down at your local Vortex to get in good with the Eternals. Now, if you're related, and have enough tissue similarities, they may let you swap parts, to keep each other going.

Stacy: Yeah, we're brothers.

Smitty: Are you sure?

Stacy: That's what my father said.

Smitty: That's not what my father said.

Zeda: This is getting creepy.

"… that owe me a favor."

Peter: *Ahem*. Do you know the Southwest Czar, by the way?

Stacy: He was by, was it four years ago, five?

Smitty: It wasn't the Southwest Czar proper, mind you: it was one of his captains gone rogue.

Stacy: Rogue? He sure had a fancy uniform and all.

Smitty: Face it, Stacy: he had run up a tab he couldn't pay, and killed a man at the Czar's Palace down in Las Vegas. He was fleeing. He only put on them airs so we'd stash him under the porch when the rest of the Czar's troops came by.

Stacy: Well, that explains much. I couldn't understand why an officer in the Czar's service would want to be so secretive about it. And the O-Dough he gave us to hide him sure wasn't much.

Peter: That's an interesting idea, seeing the Southwest Czar. I know some staffers there. We could perhaps gain some intelligence about Czar d'Oz, if we play it right.

Martin: We could also find ourselves vanishing mysteriously. TOTO taken. Our quest cancelled. Our bodies ventilated. I'm against the idea. Wait. Stacy, Smitty: what was the name of the guy you stashed under the porch?

Stacy: Raina Petkoff?

Smitty: That was his alias. When he was giving us the WorldThalers, his identification fell from his pocket. I picked it up to give to him and saw that his name was Jacob Kleindrubble.

Martin: Thanks.

Julius: Now, I have some people at UNLV that owe me a favor. Let's swing by, hide the car, and do some scouting.

Zeda: A real hotel room and some shopping would also be appreciated. Stacy; Smitty: do either of you have plans?

Stacy: Why yes. Yes, we do. We're waiting for O-Dough. Our investment in waiting is too big to fail.

Next Episode: V. Vegas

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d'Oz Episode III: TOTO

by Smitty



Start with the Czar d'Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle.

"He could..."

[Murdoch's office. Murdoch is fat, balding, opulently dressed, and seated facing stage right. Peter Lyon is at mid-stage, with Martin, Julius and Zeda at stage right, standing at ease, facing the desk, too.]

Murdoch: Let me see if I understand this clearly. You four are taking my prize Terrain Obstacle Transformation Observer, whose experimental power plant can make two trips across the US between fuelings, and driving to the capital at the New Chicago Vortex in Michigan to petition President Barack Soros Obama for aid?

Peter: We had thought that the Car Czar might be a better place to start. Might the POTUS be aiming too high?

Murdoch: No, the last year's models were worse than the usual roller-dreck, and the Car Czar is out of favor. Word is that some other Eternals covet his job.

You also realize that makes the Governor of Kansas and the Flyover Czar both look like prize chumps for not fixing Kansas after this killer tornado, don't you? The death toll is at 187 and climbing.

Peter: Of course it does. However, it's not too late to get you on the ballot for Governor this November. And don't you think it's high time that the House of Sebelius was…restructured?

Murdoch: That's a good point. But the way the system works, we'll have to offer some kind of sweetener to Obama to encourage the desired behavior.

Peter: Barack Soros doesn't have any monuments in the area. Proposing something flattering might work.

Murdoch: But where?

Peter: The Sebelius Estate along the Kansas River might offer some possibilities, particularly if the investigation raised doubts about how the land had been acquired, and further ambiguities were raised about spending on tornado preparadness under the Sebelius tenure.

Murdoch: I do like the way you think, Lyons. Clearly you're looking for a Chief of Staff position, or so?

Peter: Well, now, one focuses on the task at hand, which is getting Kansas back in order, and lets the details fall as they may, doesn't one?

"...be luring.."

[In Murdoch's fortress garage. An SUV-sized vehicle with a tandem rear axel and a tear-drop shape emerges. The rear is slightly higher than the front, for that mean look. The vehicle rolls on from stage right and stops at the center, while Martin, Zeda, Julius and Peter await stage left. A sliver-haired man with a dash of black at the bangs gets out.]

Martin: Ah, the legendary TOTO. She was designed by an old buddy of mine from the Army.

Leno: You knew Shelby Carroll?

Martin: Yeah, we had some…fun…you could say, during that whole Zambiniland fiasco. That was a…time. American people used to be dead-set against foreigners commanding our troops. There was a reason. [Martin glances at his prosthetics, flexes a hand, triggering mechanical groans].

Leno: Well, if you know that much, you know that this custom rig doesn't get too far without daddy knowing about it. Nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more. [He does kneel and point at a location under the frame.]

Martin: Got it. Thanks.

[The four pile in.]

"…us in."

[A cutout of TOTO without the top and left side dominates the center stage. An elevated flat screen positioned at stage rear serves to move the scenery by. It shows a still scene of Kansas fields, with the words RIGHT VIEW at the bottom. The characters walk around and get into TOTO from the back. Martin is driving, and he carries a puck-like object. Zeda rides shotgun, with Julius and Martin in back.]

Zeda: Well, you already raised their suspicions by going Northeast on US-4, instead of East on I-70 to Kansas City. When do we make our break?

Martin: Oh, now is as good a time as the present. [Makes turning motions to left. The screen still says RIGHT VIEW, and pans.]

Zeda: 247th Road going West? OK, well, Murdoch can only have us ventilated once. Julius, you look back and right, and Peter, you look back and left. We're not safe until we're not in Kansas anymore.

[The stage lights dim to indicate some passage of time, then come back up. The scenery moves past at a good clip on the screen at the back of the stage.]

Martin: [Receiving some comms over his headpiece, nods] Understood. We'll be seeing you in a couple of minutes. Bye.

Julius: I see them coming up behind us!

Zeda: OK, we just passed Haskell Road.

(full size)

Martin: Right. Here's what's happening. Some old friends of mine have an ambush set on the lake at Leisurely Drive. Hold on. [The engine roars, and the scenery blurs and rolls by behind them.] What've we got?

Peter: There are two air cars, one smaller than the other, behind us.

Martin: Stand by. We're going to see what some of these ground-effect controls can do. [The background scenery slows and lurches as the car tilts to its right, away from the audience. Muffled jet turbine whine and tire squeals. The screen says RIGHT VIEW, and pans to the right, showing the two air cars in pursuit, but they quickly fall off the screen.]
I doubt anyone's ever taken a right turn from 274 onto Greely Road at 100 clicks, but this ride can do it.

Peter: [Agitated] They're gaining! They're gaining! Look at them bank on that turn!

Martin: [Muttering into his headset] Almost there. You should be seeing the dust cloud coming up from the South. Zeda, you look green. It might be easier to just close your eyes.

Zeda: Get bent.

Martin: Like this?

[He violently turns the car to the right, and the jets and tires wine and squeal louder still. The background scenery remains on RIGHT VIEW and again shows the two air cars, much closer, before the forward motion of TOTO causes them to fall off the right side of the screen. The image stabilizes for a moment on a lake, and then returns to land and is wildly shaken and distorted by a huge explosion behind TOTO. He jerks the wheel again to the right, to make the turn down Leisurely Drive, and the view on the screen pans to show a huge fireball where a bridge used to be, making a small mushroom cloud. The second alloy air car comes to a fish-tailing stop, then changes direction to go back to Greely Road. Martin stomps on the accelerator, and the view pans left as he straightens, then shows houses screaming past. He gets to the other end of Leisurely Drive and takes another hard right onto Greely Road. The screen now changest to FORWARD VIEW at the bottom, and the alloy air car is limping toward them, shuddering and shimmying, an increasingly big blotch on the screen.]

Martin: Some game of chicken this is. He's either had a fan casualty, his batteries are drained, or he's too big of a coward to go at it like the old days.

Peter: He could be luring us in.

Martin: Fair point.

[The air car moves right on the screen, as Martin veers left, out into the flat wheat field. TOTO goes 4-wheel drive automatically. They go North past the air car, loop around to the South, and come up on the right quarter of the limping air car, now at the left edge of the screen, still set to FORWARD VIEW.]

Martin: They got nothin'.

[Martin stops TOTO, rolls down the window, and picks up the tracker device from the floor. It has one stage of epoxy smeared all over it. On cue, Zeda reaches over with another tube, squirts a black paste on, and stirs it. Martin heaves the sticky tracker at the air car, throwing it off stage left. The FORWARD VIEW screen shows the puck stuck to the quarter panel of the air car. Martin rolls up the window, guns it, and they exit, turning right on 278th Road.]

Julius: So, you just arranged with the locals you know to ambush the authorities? If we weren't committed before, we're committed now.

Martin: Yeah, this is a community of folks that served together in Zambiniland. Still remember the Old Constitution, too. It would be great to stop and thank them. But they kinda understand what's goin' on. Murdoch's too busy with the tornado cleanup to spare more pursuers. Let's get the fizrock out of here.

Next episode: Porch

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d'Oz Episode II: Wreckage

by Smitty




Start with the Czar d'Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado.

"...and it explains..."

[A dark stage. Martin's limbs randomly spasm, causing a loud metallic clamor. Zeda turns on a dim light, and the characters begin to stir. Zeda lights the room dimly.]

Zeda: It's time to be up anyway. We're going to need to be early to the Temple of Cyrus to see if the Vortex has any bailouts for us. The line will be long.

Martin: Sorry about the racket. I really need some better parts. Hey, whaddaya know? It sounds like the storm's gone.

Julius: They say that the real thing to do is stay put and wait for the authorities. There will be a lot of downed power lines and weakened structures. Perhaps I should stay here and pore over volume four of The Wit and Wisdom of Patrick Daley Obama.

Peter: [looking at a dead handheld, shaking his head, pocketing the device] Wow, the network is down. Julius, Zeda is right: we've got to get moving to the Temple now, with the sun rising enough to see. You're right about the dangers, but there is precious little to go around. If we're not early, we're simply naught. Martin, do you have any wea-wea-weap-pons? We-we don't want any violence at all, of course, no violence. But the appearance of the ability to deliver violence, without making any explicit threats (of course) is often helpful in negotiations.

Zeda: Well, Julius? Peter sure has you beat for guts. I think Martin and I are with him. Do you want to stay here and babysit the rest of the building like they were a pack of your worst graduate students, or do you want to risk biting into some history?

[Zeda, Martin and Peter exit left. Julius sighs and follows.]

"…what a Murdoch…"

[Peter enters left, followed by Zeda, Martin. Julius is still in the rear. They come up to the ruin of the Temple of Cyrus. The rotunda has collapsed, though the sun is still to show through the new, permanent skylight where there had been a dome. They go up the stairs, and peer in. The front doors and the conference room door are all flat on the ground. A huge chunk of ceiling has smashed a gaping hole in the conference room floor.]

Peter: I was just in a meeting here yesterday…in a different life. [Keeping carefully close to the wall, he works his way around to where the ceiling chunk, like a giant chicken leg, still has the bone of a girder sticking up out of the floor.]

Martin: What's below here? A boiler room?

Peter: No, it was Murdoch's office.

Martin: Would he have weapons?

Peter: Not that I know, or would approve of.

Julius: Are you going to descend?

Peter: Down this girder? Are you mad? There is no way my insurance would cover an injury incurred while climbing over random storm wreckage, unless I was a first responder. How irresponsible!

Julius: You have no sense of academic inquiry. Martin, will you join me?

Martin: You nearly sounded like a man for a moment there, Scare.

Julius: High praise, indeed. Here: let's use this extension cord to lower ourselves down.

[The two rig an electrical cord to a wall stud, and head down the girder, while Zeda holds a floodlight down into the still-dim hole.]

"…was doing…"

Martin: Jackpot! Zeda, a little more to the left…

Julius: Peter, can you throw down that duffel bag? The roof collapse managed to break open an end table that concealed a safe.

[A duffle descends. There is a brief screeching sound of metal hinges being forced.]

Zeda: Hey the sun is fully above the horizon. You guys have about two more minutes down there, and then we need to get out. Even the sleepiest government guard has to wake up for his morning doughnut sooner or later.

Martin: Yeah, yeah. You gripe like a Sergeant Major, Zeda. OK, that looks like most of it. Zeda's right: we gotta beat feat. Julius, you go first with the bag on your shoulders, backpack-wise. I'll be right behind offering support.

Julius: Fair enough.

[Two men and a duffle ascend.]

Peter: There is a park by the river. I've got a secret place there I've gone for years when I need to escape the meetings and the madness.

Julius: Sounds good.

[The four exit stage right.]

"…in a rat-hole…"

[The four enter stage right, crouching, led by Peter.]

Peter: Just bend over and force your way through the bushes and up this little bank, and there is a secluded clearing at the top where we can go over the find.

Zeda: Is this where you brought your admin assistant for trysts?

Peter: David? He wasn't my type, and I doubt I was his. I always saw him with plump redheads, come to think of it.

[Julius, the duffel, and Martin break into the clearing. Dawn is done, and morning is in full swing. Julius sets the bag down, and unzips it to reveal a binder, an opened envelope, a pistol, two clips, and a large wallet.]

Martin: An M1911 and two clips. I may need a private moment, everyone…

Peter: This notebook discusses a fascinating project…

Zeda: This wallet looks like it will solve our financial problems indefinitely…

Julius: This letter is the most interesting bit of all…

"…like this."

Julius: …and it explains what a Murdoch is doing in a rat hole like this:

Dearest Justin Murdoch,
    Your irresponsibility has become too great a burden. Whatever promise you once showed on the Project, you can no longer stay in the Emerald City after this latest outrage. Even a relative of Czar d'Oz himself cannot go whoring amongst the Brutals in so cavalier a manner.
    I've found you a position in Kansas, working for the Flyover Czar in Topeka. You understand that this constitutes a banishment. You also understand that saving your sorry hide even this much has cost me significant political capital. You must go and never return, or you shall have defied me personally, and get to pay for that as well as your other misdeeds.

            Your Father,
            Jasper d'Oz, Northwest Czar

Martin: OK, I think we need to take this stuff back. Not that I want to, mind you, just that one thing you don't do is steal from a Czar. Them bastards don't tolerate competition.

Zeda: I second that idea, though it would be a shame to just let all of this stuff go.

Peter: In political struggles, you always trade up. We secured these goods, and we're going to return them intact. The reason we're going to do that is because Murdoch is hiring us to go on a mission. He's doing that not only because of the dirt we now have on him, and the loyalty and respect we're showing by protecting his property, but because we're going to make him look a genius to the Car Czar in Detroit, where he is sending us on a diplomatic mission.

Only that's a ruse. We're going to take the vehicle he sends us in and head off to Seattle, instead, to see if this experimental time machine project detailed in this notebook, and which appeared nearly operational when he got this copy of the project description, actually works.

Because, if it does, we have a chance to go back to the beginning of this godforsaken Obama administration and warn the people!

[Zeda's eyes widen, Martin nods vigorously, and Julius' jaw drops.]

Next episode: TOTO.

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

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

Announcement: Czar d'Oz

by Smitty



Awash, after the fashion of a country wrecked by a tsunami, in the reviews of the previous efforts of Porch Manqué Productions, we called a meeting. Stacy flopped down on the dilapidated couch, expelling a cloud of dust, through which cover at least two cats made their escape.

"OediPOTUS Wrecks and Waiting for O-Dough were a train wreck followed by a volcanic eruption," declared Stacy. "We need something that will deliver eyeballs, not debris. You last ideas were so obscure that nobody cared about, much less had heard of, their sources."

"I have a cunning plan," I began, continuing on through Stacy's tortured glance heavenward. "A dystopian future view of the US, merging the plot of an old Sean Connery flick with an American classic, plus a few other elements that didn't move fast enough." I handed over a few pages of draft in dead tree format.

After a few moments glance, Stacy inquired, "Have you been tested for Mad Cow disease?"

Episode index:
I. Incoming
II. Wreckage
III. TOTO
IV. Porch
V. Vegas
VI. Sandog
VII. Vancouver
VIII. Seattle
IX. Lab
X. Dénouement

Stacy's initial take matched reviews remain as varied across time, if constant in theme, as ever:

• Sean Connery: Impossible! A human being that's a bigger piece of scum than Alex Trebek!
• Helmuth von Moltke the Elder: No plan of Smitty's extends with certainty beyond the first encounter with reality.
• Sigmund Freud: Hey, Smitty: your mother!
• Stevie Ray Vaughan: Hand me down my shootin' iron.
• Randy Rhodes: Next time the Crazy Train comes by, make sure Smitty is on it.
• Joe Satriani: Congress should limit Smitty to, at most, Ten Words.
• Burma Shave: In defiance of 'sane' / Again wrecks this train. /Far more favorable the /Frobnicated follicle to explain.
• Captain Ahab: Nothing wrong with Smitty that a firmly cast harpoon could not remedy.
• Joseph N. Welch: You have done enough, Smitty. Have you no sense of decency sir, at long last?
• Dan Riehl: Thanks, Smitty! I always like to start the morning by throwing up in my mouth!

Czar d'Oz runs at high noon right here for the next two weeks, or until the FBI shuts us down.

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith