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OT: A science fiction story from another planet with no connection to real people or events at all

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A guest post by Johnny U with much thanks!

“Thanks, man,” younger Merle said, adjusting himself in his chair. It was a beautiful clear evening with just the faintest hint of springtime ammonia in the air. Winter’s back had finally broken.
“So how old are you today?” asked Argyle. The two Martians were doing what they had done almost every Saturday night for almost thirty years. Amateur astronomers, their focus was Earth. Unlike so many other celestial bodies, Earth was close enough to study in detail. Argyle sometimes joked to women that he had “…the longest lens in the solar system…”. 
“I’m one-hundred fifty-seven,” Merle said showing no hint of approval for yet another birthday.
“Ha! That makes me thirty years, three three days older than you.”
“Then let’s get the show on the road, old man.”
Into the blackened blue of the late winter night they trained their telescopes. For as long as he could remember Argyle had wanted to be an astronaut. As a boy he often lay in bed for hours daydreaming of sitting alone at the helm of his spaceship, gazing in wonder at the universe. Looking back he realized he had never feared the unknown. Argyle was an explorer at heart. 
Merle liked the anthropological side of the hobby. With their state-of-the-art Martian technology they could practically peer directly into peoples’ living rooms. As avid Earthophiles they would turn on the radio or even intercept television programs to learn more. Argyle was more familiar with the history of Earthlings for he had been watching longer. Martians intuitively understood all languages.
“Ah. Interesting.” Merle scrunched up one eye, looking into the lens with the other. “Something’s up. Less smog. Less activity. Here, look for yourself.”
“Uh-huh. It’s a pandemic. I’ve been watching Fox News.” Argyle fiddled with the focus. “I think our little Earthlings have some real problems.”
“Interesting. How many dead so far?”
“Not so many, relatively,” said Argyle. “It compares statistically to a regular flu season, but it’s still different. Lots of confusion. This one is basically a political storm.”
“Commie plot,” said Merle matter-of-factly.
“Essentially. But more fascist.”
“Like Hitler. I remember him.”
“Yes. A corporate-government amalgam going for total control.”
“I see they’ve got vaccines already,” Merle said.
“Well, experimental gene therapies to be accurate. –No understanding of long-term effects.”
“Short-term efficacy?”
“Essentially unknown given the state of information warfare they’ve got going on. Claims are made, but–.”
“Right. Change accelerated when they discovered the internet. For both better and worse.” Merle reached for a fresh can of Mung blood. Martians loved their Mung blood.
“Go easy on that stuff, Champ,” said Argyle. “It’ll curl your antennae.”

“Who’s winning the race?”
“For immunization.”
“Israel. They’ve injected more people.”
“So Israelis volunteered to be the guinea pigs of the planet? Curious.”
“How so?” asked Argyle. “In fact they made a great deal with this company Pfizer to treat everyone as quickly as possible. They say they’re finding it to be 94-percent effective.”
“Effective? Effective how? I mean, if drug trials usually last for years how can anyone really know what these things end up doing? Especially given they’re experimental? What are the possible negative consequences? Did they test it on pigs or monkeys or rats? What will people be saying about messenger RNAs five or ten years from now?”
“Well,” Argyle leaned back from his telescope. He shifted his body towards Merle. He held out one of his ten-fingered hands and began to list: “There have been reports of headaches, miscarriages, strokes, heart attacks, palsy–and again who knows about the long term. Only time tells. Then one must ask about the possibility of sterilizations taking place because of the timeframe of reveal on these things.”
“Interesting. I was listening to BBC radio. Globalists say they’d like to see Earth’s population under one billion. Bill Gates said it. So did Klaus Schwab.” 
“You’re not saying–.”
“I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m just trying to connect dots. Isn’t this what we’re forced to do when we have limited information? These main stream media pundits who call everyone a conspiracy theorist who disagrees with them, and then a little time passes and a little more data comes out and voilá, conspiracy theory becomes conspiracy fact. Gates is on the record saying he wants seven billion fewer people around. He has also pushed gene therapies–they’re technically not vaccines–so hard that it really makes you wonder. What if in a few years they discover they’ve sterilized all the women or men? Who are they going to sue, then? Money won’t matter much once you’ve lost a whole generation of precious progeny.”
“Good god, Merle, don’t listen to the BBC. That’s ground zero for the whole Hegelian machinery. It’s in full swing there. And why think the very worst of people?”
“Oh, phlegm, Argyle, it’s in full swing everywhere on Earth. The last place we’ll hear ideas like what I’m saying is on legacy media. And alright, sure, Hegel’s thesis, antithesis, solution dialectic is in full blossom, but no one calls this out for what it is except in very small circles that the average human never hears from. As far as thinking the worst of people–if I can imagine it then I can ask it. It’s not as if mass exterminations don’t have multiple precedents both on Earth and on Mars.”
“So what does all this have to do with Israel?” asked Argyle. 
“Probably nothing. But didn’t you once say that without anti-Semitism there would be no wars on Earth?”
“Yes, I said this. But not everything has to circle back to the Jews.”
“That statement sure does. So why is there anti-Semitism?”
“Because Ashkenazi Jews are the smartest race on average and people resent it when they see themselves playing second fiddle in their own countries. And they can be arrogant. And then when times are hard the Jews are scapegoated.”
“Alright, but then I read an article a few years back by Barbara Amiel lamenting the scarcity of Jewish geniuses. “
“And I read one by Charles Murray about the superiority of the Jewish intellect.”
“So then where does the gentile manage to compete?” asked Merle.
“In statistically-deviant, non-linear thinking resulting in new and usable paradigms.”
“Mutant genius-gene freaks, then. Or crazy people.”
“A little harsh, but basically. Like your brother-in-law Wilfred. But I think we’re really getting carried away, here. What’s your point?”
“My point is that what if these neo-Nazis are–besides being out for world control and drastically reducing population–out to complete a bit of unfinished business and even limit the competition? Like I said I remember Hitler. What if Israel is making a terrible mistake by being first? What if millions of future Jewish babies are being negated? Is this a question so horrible that it cannot be even imagined, or asked? Is this the question that cannot be named even when scientific questions exist? Just as it could not be named in the second world war? And if such a question exists, is it a crime to ask? Is it incitement or offensive or politically incorrect? If so then to whom? Certainly not the target of the animus. What moral crime is it to not ask? Or put another way, if not a single scientific body on Earth is able to declare–with proof–that none of these gene therapies will cause sterilization, then they shouldn’t be using them. And obviously they cannot because insufficient time has passed. Forget about the Jewish question, even, and ask for the sake of all humanity. Don’t blame the messenger for asking the uncomfortable questions. I’m not the one on record calling for a cull, and I’m not the one pushing one of the few devices capable of a secret, mass cull! You can poison the waters or the air, I suppose, but these aren’t on the table as the soup-du-jour, now, are they?”
Argyle looked wearily at Merle. “Happy Birthday.” He had poured himself a glass of Mung blood. He raised it up to his friend. “You should have been a science fiction writer. How about we look at Uranus just for tonight?”
“You never get tired of that one, do you.”
[Editor’s note: To avoid that last joke, Earth astronomers have officially changed the name of the 7th planet of the Solar System. it is now called, “Urectum”.]


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