Issue 1: The Trojanpoclypse - Part 3: President Earth and Traditions of Planet XRS-250

President Earth is sitting in his office, looking at a hologram on his desk. He turns to the Secretary of Earth Defense, who doesn’t actually do anything since The Elders offered full protection of the Earth from alien invasions. However, it was tradition to have a Secretary of Earth Defense, so 10 billion Chronos were wasted on his salary per year. Hooray for tradition.

“What do you think of this Trojanpocalypse, as the ICNB is calling it? Clever name, by the way.” President Earth said. His real name is Orwell Stripes, but it is also tradition to just call the ruler of the world President Earth. The Earth isn’t even called Earth anymore, in fact, it’s called XRS-250, renamed by The Elders.

“I think it sucks.” The Secreatary of Earth Defense replies. “It may just spell the end of our world economy as we know it.”

“You’re right, if we don’t stop the Trojan default, the entire world economy might collapse. If that happens, everyone in the world will be out of jobs. If that happens everyone will be poor and start killing each other for cultured bread. But there won’t be cultured bread because the scientists that create cultured bread will be out of jobs. Then we’ll all starve and die. If the Trojans default, we’re all going to starve and die! We must take immediate action so we don’t die!” President Earth exclaims.

The Secretary loses his cool.

“Well what are we going to do? How are we going to stop this impending doom?” The Secretary gazes at President Earth with expectant eyes, like a little boy waiting for his father to come home.

“I don’t know, what does your expertise tell you, Mr. Secretary?” President Earth asks, blissfully unaware that the Secretary doesn’t actually have any “expertise” on the matter, or any expertise at all, for that matter.

“What if we use the money we don’t have to bail them out of defaulting on the bailout we already gave them? Then we can charge them even more money that they don’t to pay us back for both bailouts. That’s a nice permanent solution to this problem.” The Secretary suggests.

President Earth turns to the Secretary of Earth Defense.

“That’s genius. It’s practically foolproof! I’ll alert the press of our amazing plan immediately.” President Earth says excitedly.

An Update on How Often I Post

My wonderful, possibly non-existent readers,

My schedule for this whole thing isn't really worked out yet, but I'm going to try to get a new part of an issue out every few days. But that's not set. I could go a week without posting a part, or I could post three parts in one day. It's just going to depend on how writery I feel from day to day. I'm not sure how many Parts I will have per Issue, I'm thinking maybe 10, it seems like a nice round number, but it's going to vary issue by issue.

Okey dokey lokey, see you later!

Stephen Zelenka

Issue 1: The Trojanpocalypse - Part 2: Daniel the Delineator

Marcus Orlando, CEO of ÜberGlobal News, is sitting in his private sky limo looking down at the city below. He addresses his driver.

“You know, Edgar, I feel sorry for those people down there in the lower level sky traffic. You know why?”

Edgar is not much interested in Marcus’ views on society, but indulges him.

“Why, Mr. Orlando?”

“Because, Edgar, they have to wait in traffic, while I just soar above them, free as a bird, so to speak.” Marcus elaborated.

This was a very insensitive statement. Marcus had helped make birds extinct. However, thanks to the miracle of science, genetically engineered bird cyborgs ruled the airways.

“And don’t even get me started on the ground traffic. People who still have automobiles are pitiful. But it’s a good source of work for the homeless.” Marcus spouted, mostly to himself.

25 years ago, the government had created a law to give homeless people jobs: the homeless were decreed to replace traffic cones, as there was a shortage of plastic manufacturers that year. Also, the law was enacted to make the homeless feel like they had some kind of place in society. These homeless people/living traffic cones were called “Delineators”. Now, the ground traffic was littered with homeless people acting as traffic cones for cars driven by those below the poverty level who had been given free automobiles by the government when they were fazed out…two hundred years ago. The cars had been passed down through generations of poor people.

“I hate the homeless.” Marcus concluded.

“My brother Daniel is homeless.” Edgar remarks sullenly.

Marcus shows the faintest interest.

“Is he a delineator?”

Edgar nods.

“Yes.”

“Hmm…pity. At least you’re not a disappointment to your family, Edgar.” Marcus tries to console him.

This is not very comforting to Edgar, considering the company he presently is, and has been for the last five years, keeping.

“It would be terrible to be a Delineator. Just standing there all day with nothing to do. But I guess they deserve it for not making anything of their lives. Men like me, I worked to get where I am today. I worked to be one of the most important men in the world. I earned it.” Marcus babbles on.

He didn’t earn it. His grandfather started ÜberGlobal News almost 80 years ago and made it the powerful new medium it is at the moment. Marcus was born into money and will most likely die with it, as well.

“We’re here, Mr. Orlando.” Edgar monotonously states as he drifts into the private docking pad of ÜberGlobal News’ Headquarters and lands the sky limo.

“Good,” Marcus replies, “because it’s going to hectic day at work with this whole Trojan default affair going on. I wonder if the ICNB has named this latest catastrophe yet?”

Edgar steps out of the sky limo and walks around to Marcus’ side and opens his door. Marcus steps out of the limo and surveys the docking pad for a moment.

“Well, time to get to work!”

Issue 1: The Trojanpocalypse - Part 1: The ICNB

Aaron Pecker, the head of the Interglobal Crisis Naming Bureau, is disturbed as he reads the morning news hologram. The bright red headline reads “Mass Panic in the Market as Trojans on the Verge of Default: ICNB yet to name the crisis.” across the light blue holographic background.

Aaron sets down the news hologram. The article that had been in the hologram disappears. He clears his throat and speaks seemingly to no one.

“Wendy, gather the boardmembers.” He commands. “Tell them to meet in the Naming Room in 10 minutes.”

A female voice responds inside of his ear.

“Yes, Mr. Pecker.” The female voice belongs to the aforementioned Wendy.

10 minutes later, Aaron walks into a room with a conference table full of expert crisis namers. Near the end of the table, next to the empty chair that Aaron would soon occupy, sits Bill, the phonetics expert. Next to him: Graham, the grammar expert. Next to Graham: Kelly, the professional on words. The rest of the board members are there to give the false impression that the ICNB Naming Committee is larger than it is in reality.

Aaron takes a seat next to Bill. He clears his throat.

“As I’m sure you are all aware, the Trojans are extremely likely to default on their bailout loan in the next week or two. It’s our task, as always, to create a name for this impending crisis so the media has something to call this to make it seem worse than it actually is. Bill, tell me what you have so far.”

Bill shuffles some papers around in order to look more professional. It is merely a ritual. Paper has been obsolete for centuries.

“I have been working on a name for some time. The Trojanpocalypse.” Bill announces proudly, as if every name the ICNB made up didn’t feature –pocalypse, -gate, or -mageddon at the end.

The boardmembers are awestruck. They deliberate momentarily, as though they haven’t already made up their minds.

Aaron nods.

“I love it. Let’s send a sample headline to The News. “Trojanpocalypse rocks the Earth. How will the Trojans deal with impending doom and will The Elders do anything about it?”

Graham is confused.

“A…sample headline, sir?”

Aaron nods.

“Yes, a sample headline, so the incompetent media can have something to work off of.”

Mental light bulbs go off. The rest of the naming committee is impressed.

“That’s ingenious.” Kelly responds, “Can’t believe we haven’t thought of that before.”

Bill nods.

“It gives our names more street cred. Lets us practically show off our naming talents.” He adds. “I like it.”

Aaron nods.

“So, let’s sum up the meeting so far. Trojanpocalypse and sample headline. Everyone keeping up?”

The rest of the committee nods in unison.

“Good, so the next item on our agenda….” Aaron opens up a blue news hologram and reads for a moment, “It looks like there’s a baby missing in ÜberUtah. It’s all over the news holograms. What should we call it? Yes, Graham.”

Graham clears his throat.

“What about ‘Babypocalypse’?”

Aaron smiles.

“Ingenious, Graham!”

The Elders: A Short Preview

The Elders is a comedy/satire/sci-fi web serial set in the future about an alien race that rules the human race and observes their economic, social, and political tendencies. They rule humans pretty much in name only, imposing very few laws upon them, as they are more curious about humans than intent on suppressing them. However, the humans constantly come to The Elders with their trivial social apocalypses, political scandals, and economic turmoils, expecting them to be able to miraculously fix their problems.

Writer's Note:
I've been toying with this idea for about a month now. The original idea started with the thought of critiquing modern culture through the eyes of an alien race. In essence, The Elders is a satire of modern culture set in the future. I'm really excited about this series and hope you readers will enjoy it as much as I am enjoying writing it.

Salutations or something like that,
Stephen Zelenka