Strictly Confidential

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Contently Deranged Travelers
What begins as a tacky spy fiction parody turns into a satirical view of a dark future controlled by three deranged ideologies. Sequel to NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH. Continues in ETERNITY and MURDER IN SAPPHINGTON.

Submitted: June 14, 2015

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Submitted: June 14, 2015

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The Assignment

June 2099, Temporarily-Challenged Eborakon (formerly New York), capital of the United States of Democratic West

“Strictly confidential,” the President said.

Euclyde Jehosabath Coltrane nodded several times, as if he just heard the most profound words of wisdom.

“Don't worry, sir,” he announced happily. ”Everything is gonna be a-okay. You dude... I mean Mr. President. You just –” he spread his hands, looking for the right words. “You just hang in there, sir! We won't disappoint you! Sir! Right, Mike? We won't disappoint Mr. President?”

Mike Prziszczewski looked at him.

“If we do disappoint Mr. President, we'll be really... really –” he stopped, overwhelmed by emotions.

“Sad,” Euclyde finished for him.

Mike nodded gravely.

“Yeah,” he said. “That's what I meant. Sad.”

“Unhappy,” Euclyde added.

“Miserable,” Mike said.

“Distressed,” Euclyde said.

“Joyless.”

“Wretched.”

Mike thought for a moment and said: “Dysphoric.”

“Hey, that was a good one,” Euclyde said.

The President opened his mouth. No words came out. He closed his mouth again. Euclyde smiled nervously. Mike gazed at the President’s shoes.

“The situation is grave,” the President finally said. “The fact that Special Agent Jean-Pierre Krishnalinga is no longer with us is deplorable.”

“He was great, man,” Mike said. “I mean sir. He was baaaaaad on the drums, man. Just as Archie Bloedtraum was baaaaad on the sax.”

“JP and Archie were both bad,” Euclyde said. “Badder than the baddest badders. Bad City. Bad-o-rama. Badissimo.”

“They were fucking bad,” added Mike by way of explanation.

The President took off his goofy-looking glasses and wiped his eyebrows with a shivering hand.

“I... ahem... understand that you two and Special Agent Krishnalinga were... erm... performing together in –” the President pressed his fingers against his forehead.

“Shanghai, dude,” Euclyde said.

“Sir,” Mike said.

“Come on, Mike, you can call me Euclyde. We are buddies, right? Pals! Mates!”

“I mean you should address Mr. President as sir, you moron,” Mike said with disgust. He sighed and told the President: “No offense, man. I mean sir. Euclyde is a moron, you know what I mean? A moron.”

“Idiot,” Euclyde said apologetically.

“Dumbass.”

“Dickhead.”

“Er... I think I understood that part,” the President interrupted. “I entrust you with information which, by all accounts, must be considered strictly confidential. I believe that there is no need to stress that this mission is of utmost importance. It may so happen that the future of USDW will depend solely on its outcome.”

He paused. Euclyde and Mike kept staring at him. The President nervously caressed his cleanly shaved face and continued:

“A person known as 'the Vizier' has recently taken control over the Caliphate. He is the one who pulls the strings behind the curtain. He shapes the political future of his country. Now let's take a look at their recent activities –“ The President put on the glasses, pulled a sheet of paper from a drawer and continued: ”They signed a peace treaty with China, declaring their previous official statement about East Turkestan being an inseparable part of the Caliphate null and void. They removed their troops from Urumqi. For the first time in over ten years (since the Kashmir Incident in 2088), there is a good chance for a permanent peace agreement between China and the Caliphate.” The President cleared his throat. ”Which leaves us, the United States of Democratic West, somewhat isolated as the only super-power which is still at war with the other two.”

“Fucking lonely,” Mike summed up.

The President raised his head and squinted at the ceiling.

“Your objective is simple. You have to find out about the Vizier's true intentions towards the USDW. So far, no official statement has been made by the Caliphate regarding the ongoing war in the Middle East. But terrorist activities have been decreasing drastically ever since the Vizier rose to power. It is yet unknown whether it is an unprecedented step towards peace or a new war strategy.”

“Don't worry, Mr. President,” Euclyde said. ”We'll find out. Maybe those Caliphate fellows finally understood something. I mean, you also did a lot, Mr. President. You gave them Chechnya.”

“And you tried to give Siberia to China,” Mike added. ”Only they wouldn't take it.”

“It's too cold there,” Euclyde said encouragingly. ”Nobody wants a cold place. Not your fault, Mr. President.”

The President looked at him.

“We're on our way, sir,” Euclyde said quickly.

They bowed several times, like Japanese female receptionists in a five-star hotel, and went out.

The President sighed. He put both hands over his face and pulled hard. The mask fell down, revealing his true face. Bulbous nose. Fu Manchu mustache. Spiky rock-star hair. He sighed again, then picked up the phone and dialed.

“Lao Wang?” he said. “It's Archie. How you doin', man? Yeah, I'm cool, man. All cool. Yeah, loved your solo on You Don't Know What Love Is. Taaa-doo-dee-doo, doodly-doo, doo-bee-doo, doo-da dum! dum! dum! Yeah. Hehe. So anyway. You think Mimi can do it? Really? Man, that would be like... Haha. Yeah. Hehe. Hehehe. I know, I know... Such a great idea. Right. Sure, man. Sure. Best regards. Best regards. See ya.”

Still smiling, he reached down and pulled an alto saxophone from under the table.

 

Two Letters

To: President of the United States of Democratic West

From: Agent Prziszczewski

(orthographically correct version)

Dear Mr. President!

We did it! Woo-hoo! Man! I mean, we hereby respectfully report the situation as situated by the aforementioned initiative regarding the following alternative above. What I mean is we did it! Yeeeeee-hawwww!!

Ok. Man… Let me explain, sir. So me and this imbecile, I mean cerebrally-chemically challenged Euclyde, go to this place. It’s called Mauritius. You ever heard? Now it’s Caliphate, but before it was like an independent state or something. Like, before this whole Great Division fuckup. I mean, mess. An untidy state of affairs.

Anyway. Where was I? Why am I typing this? … … …Mauritius. Yeah. It’s, like, pretty hot there. Yeah. Hotter than old TCE, that’s for sure. Thing is, this Vizier dude often goes there. Visits a jazz club, of all places, can you imagine? Didn’t even know the Caliphate dudes allowed that kind of thing. So we tailed him. Just like in the movies, hehe. We went to this jazz club and there he was.

Man… You are so not going to believe this. The Vizier is not a real Vizier! I mean, he is Vizier! But also not! You know who he really is?

Haha, I won’t tell you! No spoilers! He’ll write to you, man. I mean sir. Quest complete! Mission accomplished! Yeaaaaaahh!!

Signed: Special Agent Mike Prziszczewski

 

To: President of the United States of Democratic West

From: Vizier of the Caliphate

Dear Archie,

I hope you are all right. You know who I am, right? Of course I recognized you! You can hide your face, but you can't hide your soul, bro! There is only one Archie Bloedtraum in the world, bro. And can I tell you something? You shouldn't be ashamed that you were a jazz musician. Think about it. How did you become the President? How did I become the Vizier? Charisma, bro. We musicians got more charisma than all those boring senators in your country or the crazy sheikhs in mine. It's like magic, right? People just listen to you. You can do what you want with them. It's super power.

So you had this idea to use this super power. For the right cause, bro. Because what is more important than world peace? I saw what you were trying to do. You were trying to stop those stupid wars. You tried reasoning with the Caliphate. You tried reasoning with China. But they didn't listen to you. Because they were still ruled by boring or crazy people. What a crazy world it is, bro, don't you think?

So I understood I had to do something. I went back to Mauritius. I still had contacts there. They got me a new ID. I made my way to the top of the Caliphate, just as you did in USDW. I didn't betray you, bro. I just wanted to make some balance, you see what I mean?

So now we do stuff together. We are cooperating. Sorry I couldn't tell you before, bro. But you know it's not that easy. You've got a bunch of boring and crazy people who don't agree with you. Many times they tried to kill me. But the Caliph is actually a nice guy, you know? He likes music, bro. He's just too passive, you know what I mean? But he liked me. He removed all those crazy sheikhs. And he listens to me. So soon this war will stop. Thanks to you and me, bro, don't you feel proud?

Now about China. You know that we stopped messing with East Turkestan, right? But they still attack us in Kashmir. I said we would give them Kashmir too, but you know how it is - they are crazy. They will just want more. They announced that they will take Malaysia now. So it's not cool, bro. But there is hope.

You remember Mimi, right? The singer? And you remember Lao Wang, the pianist? So he tells me Mimi is having a huge success. They don't even care that he is gay. Lao Wang says he will be the Chairman of Communist Party in no time. And you know what he will do, right? He'll leave Kashmir and Malaysia alone. And you won't have to worry about Siberia, too. Let them decide themselves to whom they want to belong, right?

So looks like it's happening, bro. It's really happening. World peace is about to come. And we brought it to humanity, bro. We, musicians. Don't you think it's great, bro?

Your friend,

Jean-Pierre Krishnalinga

 

Three Letters

To: Chairman Li Weihua

From: Dr. Chen Guoxing

Comrade Chairman,

Your order has been fulfilled. The mental patients of the Great Jade Lotus Dragon Recovering Facility are no longer allowed to communicate over the Internet. As I have reported before, one of our patients, family name Wang, who has been locked in our facility for the last 10 years due to his failure to comply with moral reconstruction according to the law of the Communist Party, recently began communicating online with at least two people, one in Yisilanguo, one in Laowaiguo. We believe that they discussed a topic which is forbidden in the Middle Land, a certain music style called jueshi, which was deemed immoral and has been since outlawed in our country. Furthermore, Wang and the other two engaged in pseudo-political conversations that we found inappropriate and harming the moral image of our society. Wang has been denied access to the Internet or any other forms of overseas communication since that incident.

May the Communist Party further preserve the moral face of our homeland!

Sincerely,

Dr. Chen Guoxing

(Next E-Mail in the Inbox queue: Hey Weihua, I know that place in Xuhui District where you only pay 2000 kuai for a blowjob. Party members only. Let's go next week, okay? Just be careful that this third concubine of yours doesn't find out, you know who I mean, forgot her name, the one whose husband you put in jail for immoral meetings with some Zangzu guys. Next Thursday would be great. Just let me know. A-Qing)

 

To: B. Canelloni-Olajuwon

From: P. Obaldelov-Ng

Hello Billy,

How are you? Remember I told you about this crazy neighbor of mine? The one with the funny mustache? Anyway, he just got crazier. Yesterday I saw him standing near the door to his apartment and mumbling “jazz, jazz” all the time. I guess the poor guy used to be a jazz musician or something. I tried to explain to him that jazz was not PC. If it's not PC, it's not allowed, right?

He asked me why. I said, you know how it is, lots of things are not PC now. With jazz it's simple. There's that organization of African Sub-Saharan Melochromatic Americans who wanted it forbidden because it reminded them of the time they’d been slaves. There are the Neo-Ultra-Post-Feminists who wanted it forbidden because there were more male jazz musicians than female ones. There are the environmentalists who wanted it forbidden because, as they said, the smell of sweat on a jazz musician after a good solo polluted the air.

Who cares? It's not PC. So the poor guy started crying. Said he was the President, can you believe that? And he said something about jazz musicians saving the world. Poor soul…

(Next E-Mail in the Inbox queue: Real penis enlargement + a level 83 character from World of Warcraft 6! Satisfaction guaranteed! Just transfer 700,000$ to Prof. Dr. Mabumbe Gazumbe, Bank of Nigeria)

 

To: Sheikh al-Khattab

From: Chief of Central Prison of Baghdad

O exalted sphere of righteousness, o glorious wrath of the infidels!

In the name of Allah, the merciful. The insane infidel who calls himself Jean-Pierre Krishnalinga, may Allah curse him for all eternity, has been finally caught. We have captured him on the Island of Nasrallah (which the infidel is still calling by the infidel name Mauritius). He frequented an infidel place which is now burnt down, thanks to Allah (swt). There he used the inifidel tool of Internet to write infidel letters to his infidel friends, one in the Great Satan (may Allah's wrath fall upon it!), the other in Far-East Turkestan. They spoke of an infidel kind of music they called “jazz”, and blasphemously implied that the Great Caliphate (may Allah's blessing be upon it) already made a peace agreement with Far-East Turkestan and is about to make another agreement with the Great Satan. The insane infidel also shamelessly claimed to be the Vizier of the Caliph (may Allah bless them both)! We are vigilant, o great one. The infidel criminal is awaiting your trial.

Allah (swt) is with us!

Khalid Fakhouri, Chief of Central Prison of Baghdad

(Next E-Mail in the Inbox queue: To my honorable brother in Islam: we are prepared to attack any infidel country, city, or outpost, at any time. As the Prophet (sawas) said: strike terror into the hearts of unbelievers. Allah is with us, and Allah is great. From your brother in Islam, Sheikh Ahmadi, Head of the Caliphate's Nuclear Weapons Department).

 

Four Letters

….

 

THE END


© Copyright 2019 Oleg Roschin. All rights reserved.

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