Dead Planet XI
“There's a monolith there—
a very unusual structure on
this little potato shaped object
that goes around Mars once
every seven hours.”
Hellas being just a temporary droid Mars metropolis—hurriedly erected on top of some incredibly ancient Martian-Egypto-Aztec-Mayan-Toltec ruins sunk down miles deep in the Amazonis plains. Most Earthlanders not knowing anything about it—or even caring less about it.
Nobody knowing the name of the ancient Martian metropolis—even tho it was bigger & deeper than any Earthside city ever was. Supposedly there were Archival chambers down there—more than equal to the Egyptian Library of Alexandria. Ten times more—a thousand times more. Things like Timescreen teleschrolling-archives & Spinning titanium disks speaking & projecting CGI 3-D beings against blue-screen images of what Mars used to be like.
Plus Forbidden Planet Earthside histories—mysteriously “meta” enough to make fabulating fools out of all of us. Detailed narratives of early landings that’d been made—by von Braun & his nazi Messerschmitt teams back in the ‘40s. All of it a part of the clandestine TTT agenda—the TerraCorp-Tyrell Mega-Cartel Development Zone. The Late Capitalism Terran flagships—already fleeing the next solar catastrophic denouement.
The further out the better—the Argentine & Chile bunkers of the Peron-Pinochet cliques already having been trashed & raided. The vast Latin American underground estates—ersatz & useless in the wake of fake Late Capitalism interplanetary agendas.
All the suave, supposedly sophisticated, bought-off Earth power-brokers supposedly in the know. Left to perish in the crumbling ruins deep underground—finally wising up & in the know. The Giza complex & Inca sky-castles—still standing as forgotten Krell reminders of what was coming down. Ancient cosmic remains & remnants—from the previous solar adjustments.
Adjustments? A fuckin’ polite way of putting it. More like cheesy apocalypto Last Tango in Paris. Terran Exo-Endgames—Götterdämmerung zeitgeist time. Confirmed years earlier by Aldrin, Medvedev, the Vatican—hinted by NASA mostly covering the whole thing up. All the usual various clairvoyante fakes—like Madame SOS Sosostris of The Waste Land literati fame. Hints of ersatz Cuban baroque forebodings—camp Ouija Board Telescreen schmoozing...
That and the somewhat tardy domestic “Space Summit” games—anticlimactically announced at Cape Canaveral way back in March 2010. Apocalypto Disco Inferno—Space Opera Sat matinee Bijou time.
As usual, the big problem for Tyrell & TerraCorp was deceptively simple—adroitly controlling the rate & direction of imminent Disclosure Planning. Not letting it accelerate—not pushing the panic button. Letting the needed leaks flow now & then—gradually managing & slowly guiding the shit hitting the fan. Imageering the inevitable smoothly—like good managers of reality always manage to do. Profiteering the dynastic possibilities wisely—investing in the new Neocon Future.
Following the Phobos revelations—like a long snaky, slinky row of dominos winding its way domino-by-domino around & around in a lazy labyrinthine path deeper & deeper inward. Zeroing in on escaping back to Mars again—where the whole déjà vu thing happened once before. Getting outta doomed dead Earth quickly enough—and down into the dark secret Baron subterranean bunkers of Amazonis depths safely. The quick founding of Hellas City spaceport—and all those post-Phobos development plans opening up like an evil Black Rose of Death…
The earlier color-coded 3-D interior MARSIS radar shots—how carefully the TTT intelligentsia spent forever & a day comparing & contrasting them with the previously posted MARSIS Phobos Google pics. These unearthly “catscan” images showing up on JJ's iPad vidscreen—MARSIS, SHARAD & MRO (Reconnaissance Orbiter) imagery. Detailing HMS Phobos stealthship—as an amazing thinking ancient alien spaceship orbiting Mars every 8 hours.
Later other droidship asteroid-bots popping up—various scattered solar system objects like “2867 Steins.” Turning out to be ancient stealthships too—like Phobos & even the ancient mothership itself Death Star Luna.
These extraterrestrial vehicle profiles slowly opening up—into the new Rosetta Stone Era of Neocon Solar Renaissance. Leading directly smack-dab into the incredible TTT Age of Space Exploration—with its inevitable Ort Cloud Belt Contact looming on the eerie magic realismo Event Horizon.
Former NASA scientist Richard C. Hoagland intuiting it pretty close—right down to the fucking Nexus nub. These Phobos-type truncated double-tetrahedrons—being stealth spaceships from the Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius Future. Neatly coated & covered—with svelte “cloak-shields” of radar-conductive casings.
Slick, sleek, smooth, slipstreamed Commander Cody spaceships—straight outta the magical realistic future. Meta disruptions outta modern realist sci-fi pulp fiction—transgressing multiple pulp fiction worlds. Destabilizing interstellar aesthetic subtleties—with a space opera poetics of Maria Montez Cobra Woman excess and shameless galactic glut.
Already fictionalized by early Borges Argentine fabulations—Golden Sci-Fi Age writers back in the ‘50s. Another example of Android Authorship—announcing itself ahead of time. Thru Null-A lo real marvavilloso americano—thru camp Cuban magic realismo planetary paradigming.
Alejandro Alejandro Alejandro — "¡como no!?!”
Slan Boyz Pulp Fiction levitation, flight, telepathy, telekinesis—postcolonial Creole Space Operas suddenly congealing, revealing, poised predominately with lots of surprises. Slipstream Cyberpunk fait accompli—Exo-Euro-Americano Apocalypto Narrative Tango slide back into commonplace bourgeois suburban Desperate Housewife Earth Time.
Lady Gaga descending in her sleek Martian Tetrahedral spaceship—caped, leather-clad, high heels, armed with a raygun & lots of bad attitude. Accompanied by her cute Alejandro gang of kept alien android boyz. Much like cool cerebral Devil Girl from Mars—exquisitely played by horror queen Hazel Court (The Curse Of Frankenstein, The Masque of the Red Death)…
Big, black, retro back-engineered football-field sized scary stunning steathships—hovering high over Moscow’s Red Square December 2010. Big 3-D CGI blue-screen projections—magically real, startling unreal or even perhaps maybe somewhere in-between?
Post-Phobos commentaries and TTT Archives getting sealed, pronto of course—really super-quick as the Phobos relic gets descended upon by teams of TerraCorp & Tyrell Exo-professionals. Exo-linguists, exo-archeologists, exo-economists—the whole usual Null-A World corporate team approach. That which distinguishes us from all previous extraterrestrial races. Our hyperspace hominid genius for organization & group-think dynamics. It will either save us or destroy us. So little Time for the Stars—how quickly Childhood Ends.
The Oort Cloud Belt-Shadow Effect thing—always hovering somehow out there in the neo-Plutonic Borges-void. One thing leading to another—event horizon surprises reactivating the van Vogt time-distortion neo-Gosseyn memory-game once again.
The Null-A continuum team (Hayakawa, Dr. Kair, Curoi, Grand Captain Treyvenant)—entering into final countdown & reconnaissance landing on Phobos. Ancient Phobos Ydd technology—instantly at Tyrell & TerraCorps disposal.
Gosseyn opening his eyes again—Slan seeing thru the vision-plate paneling inside of his helmet. Seeing down into twilight Hellas Towers bedroom—dull gray ceiling & stupid me sleeping there beside him. JJ waiting for me to catch up with him—brooding wakeup call for another Slan X version of van Vogt’s Lavoisseur again.
JJ exploring Phobos stealthy-labyrinthine inner chambers—doing the Titanic trip with his telepathic underwater radar and miniature distance viewing sub=sight. Time paradoxes kicking in as usual—clicking their ruby slipper heels just right. Up above they're at that very moment entering the Phobos stealthship.
. The doors are dialing open—immediately opening up a double synch-version of itself. Showing up “simultaneously” on the radar vidscreens—both for Hayakawa’s team & JJ here Mars downside with me. My young Alejandro android boyfriend down here in Hellas Town—smoking a cigarette in his puce Alejandro kimono. Waiting patienly for me to wake up—from my deepspace stealthdroid-induced dream.
Memories of the future flooding in—Solaris alien knowing & Stanislaw Lem not-knowing. The Martian Other—about as fuckin’ unknowable as JJ’s douchedroid Otherness. Subtle sub-space subtexts—slithering surrealismo surface discontinuities. Neo-Einsteinian space-time cause-effect mind-fuck distortions—enough to shatter the delicate synchronistic surface tensions of Roberto reality.
Mirror for Observers-esque appearances—Boyhood’s End Exo-Evita discontinuities. Phobos phantom Armando embraces—Fernando deep space protocols. Entering the Phobos stealthship—the post-NASA nostalgia for the future is overwhelming.
The only question being—how accurate are the reports coming in, despite the paradoxes involved? The Hayakawa team with no complete 3-D working blueprint beforehand—not lucidly cognizant of the Phobos ancient labyrinthine inner workings. Things like alien android exo-electronics—Space-time Destabilization Distorter gizmos. When all they have is just the same old—Null-A Game Machine Rules from way back ‘50s van Vogt Venusian vidscreen stuff.
Every TTT team getting sent into the Phobos ship from then on—suddenly disappearing & never seen again. Thus obviously putting a serious damper on—corporate back-engineering gaming plans. Discretely done earlier—under cloak & secrecy stealthy acts. Even those successful exo-protocols tho—outdated, outmoded, archaic now...
HMS Phobos ending up getting sealed off—as well as the orbiting Steins planetoid ship. Help sought from down below in the ancient Martian city—far down beneath Hellas Town on the Amazonis Plains. That’s where I came bumbling in—me & my reluctant lover-droidboy guide. JJ awake & calmly smoking an electronic cigarette—as I yawned & slowly woke up for a new Martian day. Our journey into the Heart of Darkness beginning that day so long ago...