In their quest for brotherhood, revenge, liberation and retaliatory fulfillment
they have lost their way and are now moving into a new and golden age –
THE
CREDIT SOCIETY
The machines have taken their masters to the cleaners. Those persons with the
power to retain a sense of authority are swept aside and a new race of
programmers rules O.K. and never before have so many been so subservient to
so few.
Governments are brought down by the collapse of computer banking systems
and the pirates who intercede at major transference terminals and make off
with the credits are still selling rice to the dying of the ruined hinterlands,
whose
rulers have forgotten them in the race to go Western.
Not unreasonably the Western programmers are distressed. Sexual equality has
become highly developed and words like MID-WIFE & HOUSEWIFE have
become obsolete as has the word WIFE. As the NIGHTHOGS will tell you they
are only PUNT PERSONS and CRICK PERSONS, oh yes and FARCE PERSONS.
The new and ever clevered programmers have absorbed many cultural
and socio-political, behavioral manifestations into their scheme and have quieted
the murmurings of dissent with POSITIVE and HEALTHY ENERGY SAVING
LOGISTICS backed by the latest technology.
(cont……)
The Euro-criminal has been converted from his old ways forever. He is a
struggling and desperate animal whose diminished numbers have forced him to
integrate almost totally with the modern politician. This COVEN of minds meets
twice a year in BELGIA, the farce hole and seat of power of the great European
state, and once a year in secret in a back room at a billiards hall in Clapham,
London, England and once again at Christmastime somewhere in Sicily.
One day a member of the coven introduces someone especially clever to the
others. His name is EVERTON, a part Jewish, part West-Indian with Swiss
connections and a truly wonderful grasp of all things electronic... And so in
a
secret conclave, not a million miles away from the Vatican, and on a day trip
during their Christmas get together, the boys begin to evaluate the enormity
of
their latest acquisition – SUPERCHIP – THE FINAL SILICONE SOLUTION.
It is only twenty minutes and eleven seconds later into the discussion when
Winston Forecourt, a former heavyweight petrol salesman, who made a killing
in the oily rag boom, expressed the very sincere hope that tHis invention must
not fall into the hands of the KRAUTS until most markets have been resolved,
though we will have to include the JAPS.
At this point in the discussion and halfway across the world and unbeknown to
those assembled CRICK PERSONS in Italy, an operation to launch – SUPERCHIP
– in the brain of a newborn infant was about to begin. Only Mo Everton
and a
specially selected HOME DROID SURGICAL CREW knew about this and that's
where Mo made his big PRATFALL and lost his way, just like the NIGHTHOGS.
But they don't care, DO YOU?
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