Dead Planet XXXII

Dead Planet XXXII

“The advantage of non-Aristotelian
integration over the stereotyped
reflexes of categorical thought is
greater flexibility of mental adjust-
ment of abstractions to the facts
they represent.”—John C. Wright,
Null-A Continuum: Continuing
A. E. van Vogt’s World of Null-A

[Meanwhile in Mars City Underground—Tyrell (Lizard double) is having a last-minute conference]

Tyrell (Lizard double): [Addressing the Lizard lords gathered around the conference table. The same headquarters table—that the TyrellCorp used for meetings. Except this time—it’s for Lizards only.]

“Greetings, fellow Lizard Lords & Snake Princes. There’s something we must now discuss. It’s about the monotonously oppressive & depressing monkey melancholy—I’ve had to go thru dealing with Detective Deckard’s human REM dreaming. I always hate to tele-dream that way. I have this nervous sub-cortical disgust & uneasiness for that despicable human being. A repulsive aversion to dreaming into his primitive monkey brain-thought patterns.”

[The Lizard lords in the conference room hiss nervously in agreement. Some of them pound on the table with their gloved fists. Others narrow their slit-eyes—fingering themselves under the table.]

Tyrell (Lizard double): “He’s just too fuckin’ jungle lucid—much too primitive & hairy for me. Too much hominid ignorance & bad breath impinging on my pristine Snake cerebrum. Each time I’m around him—his monkey presence smears & profanes me with his dirty, nasty monkey-brain subconscious. Forcing its way rudely into my pure lily-white smooth snake consciousness—how tiring it gets, my fellow Snakes.”

“I don’t know how Deckard can stand it—surely he must yearn for some other non-hominid exo-reality where it would be impossible for him to not be so sickeningly sad & naked ape melancholy that way all the time? That phrase “All too human” means just that—“all too fuckin’ human.” What a waste of time & lizard energy—dealing with these creatures. The sooner our calm, cool Snake Consciousness—takes over this stinkin’ hominid Solar System. The better off our Empire & all of us will surely be—that’s for sure.”

[Hissing fills the conference room. Lights dim. The air-conditioning system almost fails. Everything humans construct is falling apart. Snakes have to drag in human technicians to fix the crumbling infrastructure. In many ways, it’s like that classic decadent Earth movie “Brazil”—technological decay & crippling kipple have set in & there’s no stopping it.]

Tyrell (Lizard double): “Lot's wife was turned into a pillar of salt. We Snakes of the Garden of Eden—we got rid of the humans—and now it’s time to reclaim the Garden of Earth as our own once again!!! Let the Snake Pandora’s Box be opened one last time—let the Fig Leave reveal the Monkey’s Dirty Dong of Doom once again!!!”

[The Lizard Council hisses even louder in agreement—the timetable must be set up faster. It’s urgent & terribly necessary to rid the solar interplanetary realm—of stupid naked Adamic monkey brains forever.]

Tyrell (Lizard double): ”The Head of our Medusa Goddess. That's who’s in the Box—and when her deadly gaze looks out at the universe, then everything will be changed forever!!! Not into mere pillars of salt & stone—but into living breathing glorious Reptoid Beingness! Not brimstone and ashes—not Sodom & Miss G. But of course, my fellow Lizard Lords—I’m just preaching to the choir. All of you know that already—we the blessed Medusa Minions of the New Millennium. We who never have a Bad Hair Day—we who proudly wear the Writhing Snake Coiffure of the Medusa Goddess. We who bear the Art Deco Zig-Zag Wig—of the great Bride of Frankenstein!!!”

[The Lizards lose it completely—the Conference Room turns into a Cosmic Alligator Pit of Anger. Lizard Kings & Queens—start wrestling with each other on the conference table. Crocodile tears flow like rivers of darkness—flooding the fetid humid Lizard underground headquarters there beneath Mars.]

Tyrell (Lizard double): “Listen to me, my slithery all-knowing Fellow Lizard Lovers. Even if I were the beast-god Cerberus himself—barking with all his heads by the gates of hell. I would still tell you the same thing—it’s time to Open Pandora’s Box & Let Snakehood Goddess Free Once Again!!!”

[Leaning down over the vidscreen image of Deckard—descending in the elevator to a meeting with the Head Lord Lizard himself. ]

Tyrell (Lizard double): “See, there he is. This time I’ll take care of him myself. I’ll use my Snake charm & Lizard suavity—to turn him into a reasonable monkey. I’m going to meet him now—in my special greenhouse conservatory. We’ll make a deal. A deal worth it—for him to drag himself outta the hominid gutter & into my clutches. I’ll learn the secret of his Nexus droid—and his Predictress courtesan.”

A Lizard Lord warns: “Careful, Deckard’s a smoothie. He's a professional bedroom dick you know.”

Tyrell (Lizard double): “Hmm, you’re right. I didn’t think of that. He’s probably immune—to my mind-fuck manipulation games. I’ll try out a humanoid avatar first.”

Gas station attendant (Lizard double):

[Supposedly admiring Rick’s old hover-craft up above]

“Jaysus Christ, Mr. Decker—what a beautiful classic old Jag hover-craft! This Jag model’s worth plenty, big time Mr. Decker!!! How much you want for it?”

Rick: “Sorry, kid. I’m married to that old Jag now.”

[So much for the Jag hover-craft ploy, the Lizard lords down below say. They ponder other ways—to influence Decker’s mind-set. Maybe they’ll just let Tyrell the Lizard double handle it his own way.]

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