Fools Of Parody

Prologue

The blazing light flashed across the sky, stopping to hover over Gandu before landing in the desert.  Following the trail, he thought about turning back to awaken one of the priests, but an inner voice told him to keep going. As the recently appointed historian, he wondered if this event was deliberate or an improbable coincidence since it was Gandu’s duty to immortalize the event. If it was deliberate, then the thing knew of his recent appointment and came to help. If not, he’d just have to take his chances. At the very least, it would provide him great notoriety and would cure his writer’s block.

Gandu moved closer. His gait increasing from nervous baby steps to a bold saunter. Upon reaching the shimmering object, Gandu stopped, even as a doorway revealed itself from the unblemished surface. 

A figure emerged from the doorway. Gandu dropped to his knees in awe. The priests and priestesses foretold the coming of the gods. Heeding the warnings, he covered his eyes out of fear.

No welcoming committee? asked the visitor. If you expected us, where’s the celebration? I hoped for at least some panic. Becoming impatient, the traveler barked, Stop groveling. How will you be able to recount what happens if you can’t see me? Look at me and I won’t turn you into a ball of fire.

Gandu wondered how the stranger knew what he was thinking. Uncovering his eyes, he watched the naked visitor with skin the hue of burnt cedar, move toward him, his manhood swaying with each step. Gandu gasped at the sight, not able to take his eyes off the enormous maleness which extended down to the visitor’s knees. The other men in the kingdom used to mock Gandu, pointing at his small phallus. Now, he felt even more insecure.

The visitor reached to put his arm around Gandu’s shoulders leading him closer to the vessel. Gandu flinched at the touch.

Gandu, I did not come all this way to compare our peckers. Do you want to hear my story or not?

Gandu wondered how this being with a horse-sized sex organ knew his name, but did not find it surprising. As he suspected, their meeting was not coincidence.  How does he know my thoughts? Gandu nodded as he sat in front of the visitor.

Who are you? Have you come to destroy us?

My name is Anu. I was sent by Source to assist in your evolution. Others will come, each teaching you a different lesson helping to shape your society. You will pass these lessons on to future civilizations throughout eternity.  Anu continued his story, recounting from the beginning of time and ending with the present.

Do you understand?

Gandu shook his head. Big bang? Dinosaurs? Evolution? Future civilizations? This was more than he could comprehend. He opened his mouth to speak, but remembered his job was to listen.

What is it? asked Anu. What do you want to ask me?"

"Are you a god?

No. We are a consciousness. But, in your limited understanding, we can be perceived as gods.

Gandu asked more historical questions, leaving the philosophical questions to the priests and priestesses. What are dinosaurs and when did they live?  How old is the earth?  What is evolution?  Never looking look away from Anu’s loins he pointed and asked, Do you plan on using that thing on our women? You’ll ruin it for the rest of us.

Anu’s eyes glowered at the simple human. I knew I should have given this place to the dolphins.

Now, Anu. You promised, came a female voice from inside the ship. I’ll wait here while you go to the village. But cover yourself, first.

Gandu led Anu through the village, ending their journey at the royal palace. Villagers followed them curious about the stranger and how their King would welcome him. The women noticed his longer than usual loin cloth and giggled amongst themselves.

King Dunghi. It is I Gandu, official historian. I have brought you a visitor from the sky. One of the gods foreseen by the priests and priestesses. His name is Anu.

The king looked Anu up and down. He was not impressed by the unruly hair and mangled beard blowing in the wind. A god you say? He looks more like a beggar. Are you sure he’s not from a neighboring village come to steal our food?

I followed his sky trail into the desert where he stepped out of a glowing house.

A glowing house? Was it on fire?

No, my king. It glowed in the moonlight, like the river.

Well then, welcome. I am King Dunghi–

Dunghi? Is that really your name?

Yes. It means great pile of–

Yes, yes. I know what it means, snickered Anu.

You find my name funny? It is a great honor among my people.

Yes. I’m sure it is.

The high priest and priestess entered. One look at Anu and they ran to the king.

It is he, King Dunghi. Just as we both saw in our dreams. It is the Sky god.

The priestess looked down at Anu’s loin cloth and blushed. It was her job to pick the right woman to mate with the god. Are y-y-you here to mate with us. If so, let me be the first to–

No! We are here to assist in your evolution. To teach you about civilization. To give you guidelines for living a successful and abundant life. To appreciate what you have, rejoice in the way things are, and be eager for more. That is why we came.

We? asked King Dunghi. I don’t see anyone but you.

I heard another voice coming from the house, a female voice, stated Gandu. The priestess let out a disappointed sigh.

And what are we to do with this newfound knowledge? asked the priest.

Impart it within your village and let the word spread. We will invite others to come, each with different lessons and experiences to share.

The priest and priestess whispered into King Dunghi’s ear, and he nodded his head and while smiling as if glorifying his namesake and leaving a big pile for the palace slaves to clean. 

King Dunghi called Gandu over to him. I don’t want all they share to be spread among the villagers. Leave out the important lessons and make up stories to fill in the blanks. Myths so unbelievable and shocking, that people will be afraid of them and look to me in reverence. Keep the people meek and servile. Only in this palace, among ourselves, shall we speak the truth. Go now, Gandu. Use cuneiform and hieroglyphics to earn your place among mythologists.

Anu shook his head in disgust.

For five hundred years, different life forms came and went, each with a different story to tell and wisdom to impart. The historians could hardly keep the pace. More sagas and legends of mythological creatures appeared in their writing, including the introduction of the goddess. Anu oversaw them all.  Having never been in a position of authority, Anu often abused his power.  Power is the means to force others to obey.  Authority is the right to command.  Power without authority is tyranny.  Anu’s tyrannical rules and overbearing manner alienated many of the invited guests. Several broke away from the original tribe looking to establish their own tenets.

One such being, Enki, followed the Euphrates River south. Coming upon different tribes he mated with the women, creating a superior race that worshiped him thus becoming as powerful as Anu. Finding all the groveling and submissiveness boring, Enki soon left to spread his message, and seed, throughout new civilizations in the fertile crescent. He moved west across the Arabian Desert and eventually settled in Egypt. 

War between the once-peaceful tribes became a common occurrence. The battles varied in objectives from survival of the fittest to libidinal impulses.

Over the years other political and religious leaders followed King Dunghi’s creed. Leaving out vital information revealed by Anu, and replacing them with accounts of the gods, they kept their subjects ignorant and tame. The most important message they hid from their subjects was this, We are all connected and come from the same Source.

Religious conscientious started moving away from the goddess. Combined with the missing wisdom and the often-incredulous stories that replaced them, the crusaders, inquisitors, xenophobic nationalists, and suicide bombers lost their humanity. One motive for war stood out above all the rest. One obsolete motive that has plagued humankind for 2000 years. One vain motive that continues to separate people instead of bringing them together. What is this battle cry of so much hostility and pointless death? Broken down to its simplest terms, Our god has a bigger dick than your god.

Chapter 1

The first thing one noticed about the descending space vehicle was its shape. Not a saucer, or a cigar, or a cylinder by any means. Instead, it looked like an interstellar house blown by a tornado and landing in the middle of Kansas.

No windows or doors adorned the house. The sleek, faultless as-yet-unidentified object gleamed like the buffed chrome of an antique car on exhibit at an outdoor fair.

A few witnesses said it landed on the tip of the roof, and then rolled over to stand upright. Others swore it spiraled down, landing without a sound. And some insisted that it de-cloaked after landing.  No matter how it transpired, after all the movies and books and talk shows, government cover-ups and unexplained cattle mutilations, it finally happened.

Tourists passing by on U.S. Route 281 interrupted their schedules. With cell phones in hand, selfies sprang up on social media sites like a heat rash. Within the hour, media, police, and U.S. armed forces surrounded the metallic house on the prairie.

The media arrived with all the restraint of a blitzkrieg. Camera crews clashed with law enforcement over where to set up their equipment. Radio correspondents and newspaper journalists shoved microphones into unwarned faces waiting for answers to unanswerable questions. People quit their jobs or requested impromptu vacations. Airlines overbooked their flights, hotels overbooked their accommodations, and rental car agents overbooked their fleets. 

The next day, the crowd around the interplanetary abode grew to more than one thousand. People came dressed as their favorite apocryphal, science-fiction, and horror celebrities rejoicing in the coming of the aliens.

Signs giving praise and gratitude to Galileo, Leonardo da Vinci, Nikola Tesla, Albert Einstein, and L. Ron Hubbard rose from the crowd like antennae. Luke, Matthew, John, Allah, Jesus, Yahweh, Buddha, Lao Tsu, and one extolling the virtues of the Flying Spaghetti Monster presented additional alternatives. Other signs pleaded for the visitors to Bring Back Elvis or warned the inhabitants of earth about the day of reckoning. Quotes, such as, Klaatu barada nikto! and Beam me up, Scotty completed the requisite clichés.

World-renowned scientists arrived. A two-petawatt LFEX laser, flown in from Osaka University, couldn’t cut through the outer armor when fired at the shiny dwelling. Titanium, cobalt, and carbide drill bits all shattered like icicles when attempting to penetrate the burnished-baseball metaphor. Every attempt to reveal the mystery of the ship met with unsuccessful and humorous results. The so-called geniuses walked around scratching the top of their heads like Laurel with no Hardy to slap any sense into them.

The crowd continued to grow. Vendors peddling food and pennant flags shaped as various movie-themed spacecraft invaded the gathering. Within a week of the landing, manufacturers of instant gratification inundated stores with product lines from clothing to food. A toy company rushed models of the metallic house out to stores. Of course, tiny figurines of scientists, military troops, and flesh-colored Martians that glow in the dark were sold separately.

Publishers put a hold on new releases taking the opportunity to dust off older new age titles and books detailing  abductions. But, even with all the excitement and new evidence, three books still sold better than any other; the Christian Bible, the Muslim Quran, and the Hebraic Five Books of Moses.

Hundreds continued to arrive into the sacred grounds each day. Communities of like-minded pilgrims sprang up sharing their tents and food with anyone who asked.

Cable channels catering to science and science-fiction lovers canceled their programs in favor of broadcasting 24-7 from the site. Interviews with scientists, authors, spectators, and former abductees interspersed the actionless action. The continuous TV coverage kept many would-be trekkers at home. 

Two of the more memorable interviews happened at the beginning of the week. The first occurred when a reporter spotted the owner of a national fast food chain. A social network video of him and his family killing an elephant while on safari in Africa elevated him to a loathed anti-hero. Asked why he was there, the owner replied, God made man superior to all other life. Plus, I got some bad press when I killed that dumb animal. Let’s see what they think of me when I kill these space people.

The second came when a local TV station interviewed Miss Twyla Faye Barrow of Van Buren, Missouri about details of her abduction. An over-sized woman with bright, multi-colored makeup and a good humored smile recounted her story. She ended with a plea to the aliens. If you can hear me, please let me know what you used for the anal probe. I have not found anything on earth that comes close and I would like to manufacture them here. Of course, I’ll split the royalties with you, say 20 percent? 

Traditional news stations battled for the best positions to view the gleaming space vehicle. Finance TV told their viewers 100 different ways they could make money from the event. By the end of the week, the State of Kansas made U.S. Route 281 a toll road between the city of Lebanon and the landing spot. Proclaiming the ship a state landmark, they charged fees for entering and camping in the park.

Interest among TV viewers started to decline. Stations devised new ways to keep their audiences interested, but the lack of action made the broadcasts as exciting as airline food. Losing viewers by the score, the news outlets had to think of ways to keep the interest before their ratings dropped further and exploded on the sidewalk like a bag of soup thrown from the Empire State Building. As one producer put it, It ain’t doing nothing. It just fuckin’ sits there.

The media’s long-time solution of making stuff up and presenting their fecal matter as truth served them well. Throwing their crap into a yard spreader known as the news, they continued to fertilize the seeds of fear and ignorance continuing their quest of splitting the world into separate but equal hate groups.

Left- and right-leaning stations shared their opinions on every topic concerning the occupants of the spaceship. Stories from the conservative side ranged from accusing the current liberal President of offering the aliens sanctuary to the religion of the unseen aliens.  From the liberal flank came placing half the blame on the religious right and the other half on the wealthy one-percent wanting to start another war. 

Correspondents turned their attention to the hostility transmitting through the crowd like venereal disease. The main attraction came from different fundamentalist religious groups fighting each other over the proper way to pray. Atheists, science-fiction geeks, and search-engine–influenced scientists soon joined in the melee creating separate facilities with which to do their physical and spiritual business.

A group appeared for every societal sect. Hate-filled racial epithets launched into the air left behind a wake of viscous, murky bile. Names might not have hurt people, but sticks and stones broke many bones as guns and explosives found their way into the camps. The National Guard and neighboring police forces who were called in to keep the peace helped the situation as much as putting a muzzle on a wolf and leading him to a hen house.

Elation spread through the news outlets like a yeast infection in the vagina of a world with a weak immune system. Like bacteria infecting the prostate of the earth. Their reporting left viewers with a burning sensation in their soul. The media didn’t care if their actions led to deaths and fighting. They considered it foreplay and hid the antibiotics. If it bleeds, it leads, reminded the producers to their networks.

I can’t believe them, Matrona exclaimed.

What did you expect? asked Anu. Every time we come here we clean up their mess. I’ll tell you, Matrona. I’m tired. Why don’t we start over again? Another ice age or flood, and poof, they’re gone forever. The atmosphere is already mostly gone. Let’s turn up the heat, fry them, and come back in another hundred years.

I hear you, Anu. I’m tired also. I don’t get it. None of the other species failed, on this world or on any other. Let’s give them one more chance. This time, we’ll give them a time limit and an ultimatum. 

This is the last time, though. Give them nine months or else we turn the planet over to the dolphins.

Deal.

Are you ready? asked Anu. He took a deep breath preparing for the earth of the 21st century.

No. Not yet.

Discharging his breath like an escape valve, he cross-examined Matrona. Why not? What have you been doing for the past two months?

You try sorting through seven billion people and narrowing them down to twelve!

OK. OK. I get it. How many do you have so far?

Four.

What if we cut it down to six? That should take you another month.

But Anu–

Yes. I know. But six will be simpler. You remember the last time we picked twelve. We became so focused on keeping them together that we didn’t see it coming, even after he warned us.

I remember. That one set us back a couple thousand years. OK. Six.

The translucent consciousness named Matrona went back to work. Her counterpart turned on the video displays.

Oh, goody. Look Matrona. This should be interesting. Come and watch with me. The two visitors watched, like gods with the power over life and death.

After five thousand years, they still see only differences. Anu, maybe you’re right and we’re wasting our time.

Chapter 2

Booker Lincoln observed the action from the Situation Room in the basement of the White House along with his invited guests. 

Those damn news stations, commented Canadian Prime Minister Julian Trew. Do they have to stir the pot?

President Lincoln shook his head, his face coming apart at the seams. "Now you know