The Hummingbird Drone Justifies Strange, Irrational Behavior In Responsible Members Of Society
I’d never suspected the shimmery green and blue hummingbird that hovered beside my kitchen window to actually mean me any harm. That would be considered irrational thinking. Not until my old friend, and local Los Angeles vagrant, Marlin, came over for a chat one afternoon, did I realize how ensnared we are in a rapidly developing technocratic prison of possible deceit and surveillance.
We sat around my square kitchen table and chatted about the new pope and the vigilante who was roaming Los Angeles shooting out the tires of vehicles that ran red lights. Both of the stories fascinated Marlin, and he yapped back to me his opinions on the matters.
A hummingbird, clearly enjoying the sun, hung around the open window. I saw the small creature first, while Marlin talked about how the Filipinos lauded the new pope, as they did every new pope. He claimed he’d been married to a woman in the Philippines, but he didn’t have money those days to fly out there and see her. She needed him to make love to her badly, and knowing she and her desires lingered, unsatisfied, left him anxious to raise the necessary funds.
“Pretty lips, pretty behind, pretty sexy,” he said.
I watched the hummingbird float. Its wings were hardly noticeable. Only a shining blur as they moved hundreds of times per second. Like a little machine, I thought. The bird enjoyed the small splotch of juice on the cement ledge outside the window. I’d often sit in the sun and eat oranges. Sometimes, when the pulp was too much, I’d remove it from my mouth and set it on the outside ledge. The juice left behind was what attracted the poor creature.
Suddenly, Marlin’s bony, vein-lined arm shot out and popped the hummingbird. The fragile creature was jolted a few feet and then plummeted, head first, to the pavement below. A four-story drop.
What in the hell did you do that for? I asked. Marlin wasn’t one to kill creatures like that. He lived on a steady diet of wheatgrass juice, and he always seemed to have a deep respect for nature. While walking down the street after a rain, he’d make a big deal about stepping around the snails and slugs.
“Don’t you know?” he asked me. “You of all people, you, Mister Dear Dirty America, should know better than to let a hummingbird hover near your window. They aren’t that brave. With the two of us sitting here, to get so close.”
What do you mean? I said. There was orange juice spilled on the ledge! And, I’ve never posed a threat to it before. It shouldn’t have to live in fear around my place.
“You’ve been seeing it often, then?” he asked.
Most days, I said.
“That was no ordinary hummingbird,” Marlin said. “It was a spy drone. The new version the Pentagon has rolled out to use as surveillance tools. To spy on anyone they don’t like or feel is a threat. I could hear the whirring of its mechanical wings.”
A hummingbird spy drone? I asked him. That was no spy drone.
“It’s because you’ve been writing those critical articles about the government, the Federal Reserve, and their links to the global banks. They’re keeping tabs on you, bro. They do that to me, too, when I go around looking for treasure in the garbage bins. But they don’t use a hummingbird. They use the ghetto bird. But it looks more like a gigantic dragon fly to me,” he said.
I looked it up on my smartphone. Marlin was right. The Daily Mail, I said, wrote this:
A pocket-sized spy drone disguised as a hummingbird has been unveiled by a major Pentagon contractor measuring just 16 centimetres and weighing less than an AA battery.
The mini spy plane can fly up to 11 miles an hour and took five years to develop at a cost of $4million.
Experts hope the drone, which can fly just by flapping its wings, compared with current models which rely on propellers, will eventually be able to swoop through open windows and perch on power lines.
“I know, bro!” Marvin said.
|clearly, this is what Marlin imagined|
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