THE AIR WHALE
When old ideas have come to pass, either a new
meaning must be found for them (the kind of meaning
possible in the world they now inhabit) or they lose their
meaning and the continued use of them is a levy on sense.
P. J. Purvis, The Offensive Art
The first authenticated air whale was spotted off the coast of Newfoundland in 2179. It was forty meters long and had a high volume of lighter-than-air gasses in great sacks that ribbed its body. It floated for several days then headed inland and landed on a farmer's shed in Westbrook, crushing it spectacularly.
For years reports of air whales continued as they continued to be explained in confused ways each time one would beech anywhere near a nerve-centre of civilization. Experts seemed to be studying the opinion -- not even the scientific fact -- of whether air whales didn't only purposefully drift over water. That is, if they didn't purposefully fall inland, intentionally.
Then an air whale obliterated a heritage site, a beautiful pioneer village. By 2201 air whale crashes were reported as far away as The Great Lakes.
The Canadian government's first reaction which was to kill the air whales over the ocean was not representative of the electorate. Despite the family-friendly term, Clearing, and the promise of whale blubber enriching the economy the debate raged for years whether or not it was necessary to kill the innocent animals; until a corporation was formed to deal with the increasing property damage.
“Maybe we could domesticate them,” said The Minister of Finance.
“Maybe we could screw propellers on them,” said The Minister of Defence.
“What do you think?” said The Minister of Education to Prime-Minister Paul.
Prime-Minister Paul thought long and hard.
The Ministers eventually left him to his thinking and the debate slowly dropped away as the shiny new corporation was left to its own devices.
The new debate which followed was the enormous costs it would be to keep the corporation open that kept air whales out of the media, not to mention off the Atlantic coast-line. As always there were a few people getting rich on the scheme and a developing tourist industry. Discontents usually found themselves the victim of an air-whale catastrophe.
Silvia had all the time in the world to become a young lady but she never really managed it. She read her science text-book.
“The air-whale debate is divided into two sides. There are those who say that air whales float and those that believe that air whales fly. Nobody has proven whether air whales have the capacity to control their flight. They seem to just go up and up! The more interesting question is whether air whales will ever truly escape the Earth's gravity and become great seeds for life on other planets!
Draw a picture of an air whale!”
Silvia drew a picture on an air whale in space. Then she added a background.
The picture was an air whale exploding on the ground.
Do you think air whales fly?”
Silvia thought for a moment.
“I don't know,” she thought. She wrote, “No.”
"How's my young lady?” Silvia's mother asked her.
"The questions were easy.”
“Are you ready for a snack?”
“Yeah!” said Silvia.
It was Spring in Niagara. The blossoms popped like popcorn on the oriental fruit trees of the Niagara Peninsula.
Jimmy was a character in the novel, The New Tomorrow. He was an usher in an old theatre in the 20th Century. He would sit people in their seats and then observe people's reactions as they watched the show. Afterwards he would talk nonchalantly with patrons. When a conversation started it would signal a new adventure. Jimmy's adventures were often funny, sometimes sad and poignant, sometimes scary. The New Tomorrow became a success and was adopted by the education curriculum. Jimmy became a household word.
Jimmying The New Tomorrow was a tell-all biography of the author.
The easiest way to make money is to collect tax. So how do you tax people without involving the government? Ask any billionaire.
Prime-Minister Paul usually worked on keeping The New World Order up and running but today he has decided to read The New Tomorrow. To see what all the fuss is about.
At school Silvia came to a difficult question. It was test-time.
"Friday the 13th is an unrecognized holiday. The people who honour Friday the 13th are
Multiple Choice Questions that could not be answered were considered none-of-the-above questions. Some students crossed out the question and the answers in mad marks. Some wrote, “Cannot be answered,” under the last option. All attempts to answer the question were marked wrong but one. And no one knew which one.
Silvia didn't know A B or C so she wrote: “D) People on the news.”
“How's my little girl?” asked Raymond.
“I'm fine,” said Silvia.
“Ah, ah, ah! Fine? A ticket? How are you?”
“Good to eat?”
“I'm well!” Silvia was laughing.
“Well!” Raymond puffed up in his clothes as though he had just been told the most wonderful thing. “How's Mommy?”
“Oh. She's not doing too well.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“She hasn't been good.”
Everyday Raymond asked his daughter how his wife was doing. If she was fine then she had been bad. Raymond spent a lot of time explaining bad behavior to his daughter.
“Oh, you'll be a great lady some day!” said Raymond.
Raymond, Margarite and their daughter Silvia all by the end of their lives had been crapped on by a bird flying above them. For them and millions of others this was just one of those things.
The Prime-Minister was walking along reading The New Tomorrow. Jimmy was ushering. A huge shadow seemed to follow him down the side-walk...
The final version of this story can be found in Self-Arrest, a book written by me and someone else, i.e. Marvel Fassbender. Of course it is totally unavailable at the present time unless you would like a fax of the manuscript for an astronomical price. Over twenty dollars!