Post by Floyd Looney on Dec 14, 2009 23:05:53 GMT -5
excerpt from the story I am presently engaged in writing. Nothing really happens in this excerpt, its all background really.
The five-trillion World Standard Units spent on the project included about three hundred billion in bribes and cronyism paybacks. Every two-bit dictator and bureaucracy wanted their share so that every major order was divided between a dozen or more organizations somewhere on Earth no matter how inefficient the decision.
The purchase of a half-million cubic feet of nitrogen was made by a committee made up of representatives from two dozen nations that ended up getting the bulk of the purified nitrogen contract. Those committee positions were bartered and fought over by the many countries of Earth and every nation had at least a few committee seats.
A private company could have done the same job in a tenth of the time and at a fifth of the cost but politicians had taken over. Years and years of haggling about the details of the mission and hearing after hearing and the infighting and backstabbing had made the whole process a colossal waste.
Now, a decade later the world is paying attention again because the thing looks like it is finally going to happen. Sure there is a former Ugandan sheepherder whose uncle-dictator secured him a spot on the ship, and yes there is that Mongolian ruler whose own son-in-law got a spot but never mind that; it’s the big picture we need to see.
Humanity, finally united, had gotten its act together, sort of, and was sending its first real starship to another solar system. Not a “nearby” system either, the final decision came down to two that were the most likely to harbor Earth-like habitable worlds and one of those was discounted over some Muslim prophecy that made it “holy” or whatever, but the mission is a go.
The Inter-Solar Mission Project had been given several names over the years but each one offended some group or political faction or nation and soon this bland replacement took its spot.
The ISMP was embodied by the giant starship Earth Ship One, again a lot of political and cultural wrangling took place, several diplomats came to blows and it was finally decided that the real official name was Earth Ship One translated into whatever language anyone wanted. On the outside of the vessel the words were painted in two dozen of the more common languages.
The main symbol of the Inter-Solar Mission Project came to be a tree in which the rounded top sort of became Earth. It was actually very nicely done until some countries complained that the image showed the eastern North American coast and western European coast and was inherently racist. So the top of the tree became ocean blue with the word EARTH in green and some clouds thrown in. They added IS on one side and MP on the other side of the tree trunk.
The catalyst for the uniting of humanity, bringing us all together in abject poverty so that bureaucrats and politicians could spend our hard-earned dollars on graft, influence peddling and corruption of the highest order.
“Why does the United States get to choose the Captain?” The committee member from Tonga asked during the discussion of crew rotation and work shifts. This question was out of order, of course, since the topic at hand was the 6-hour work day for the crew proposed by the committee member from France.
“Of course everyone knows that this honorary title of Captain bestows no real power or influence on whoever gets it. All of the decisions are made by committee and they are guided by the World Parliament and Secretariat as laid down in the by-laws passed eleven years ago and ratified seven years ago” The committee member from the United States said, reminding them of what they already knew. “This position is really just someone who takes orders and then hands them out to the crew. Every country was assigned positions to fill on the ship and we traded and bartered amongst ourselves. Rashid over there had his nose broken, if you remember, during a dispute over the Chief Janitorial Officer position.”
Of course their phony objections and jockeying for political favoritism played well in their national press, everyone did it. It didn’t hurt that most of them controlled their own press with an iron fist either.
“The issue at hand is how we divide the work into four shifts” the committee member from France reminded them. The committee member from Canada interjected “No, the issue is do we divide it into four shifts”. The two argued briefly before the committee member from Nauru asked “I object to the Captain position being an American…” starting the whole thing over again.
The Environmental Council continued to create problems by overriding decisions based on what it said were ecological grounds. On the problem of crew human waste it had objected to dumping it into space, storing it on the ship, burning it for fuel, burning anything for fuel actually or even launching the waste into the sun. Finally after years of wrangling the First Committee ruled that the Environmental Committee had no jurisdiction in the matter, upon which the EC took the matter to the World Court, which said it would study the matter and decided whether to hear a case in a year or two.
Meanwhile in the United States the filling of the Captain position was a hot potato that everyone was fighting over. The pacifists vehemently objected to the notion that a military officer or even a veteran or the son of a veteran be chosen. The radical feminists, barely resembling women, strongly favored a female for the job on the grounds that all men are rapists and pigs and therefore repugnant.
Muslims objected that the Captain might be a Christian or other infidel and threatened further problems if their will were not heeded. Animal rights activists suggested that an animal would make as good a Captain as a human.
The politicians meanwhile fought over the political points of what party the Captain should be a member of. Others suggested the Captain should naturally be from their fine states and cities and any who do not agree were worse than Hitler.
After years the Special Representative Council finally proposed the position be filled by random drawing from among citizens. This brought an outcry of protests from illegal immigrant advocates that foreigners not be excluded because this was discriminatory even if other nations had never considered giving foreigners their positions. On this one the illegal aliens lost out.
On the bright side Mexico had its own positions to fill, the best one being Cultural Events Planner aboard the ship.
The Captain Lottery would be done by a computer program that would choose someone at random, this was to be shown on live television. The President of the United States, having little else to do, was made the host of the event.
“The honorary title of Captain is not in actual fact a powerful position but the title still denotes a lingering aura of authority. This computer will choose one of you to be the Captain of Earth Ship One, your duties will be to follow orders from the World Authority and to hand down orders to others aboard the ship.” The President said before airing short taped interviews with the Secretary-General about the importance of Earth Ship One and with a “well renowned scientist” about its mission.
“Finally I believe we are ready to see the name chosen by the computer…”
More than two thousand miles away a man sat at his older computer trying to figure out how to feed his family. He had once upon a time owned a thriving business manufacturing minor electronic components but high taxes, heavy-handed regulations and government-subsidized competitors put him out of business.
The nation and world economy was in shambles, with more than ninety-three percent of the people on Earth living in poverty. The United States government owned dozens of money-losing “corporations” that produced products and services people did not want or like. Then again, since they were backed by government it didn’t matter if the customers were happy, they had no choice in the matter.
This man, Jim Thompson, was dismayed at the state of the country and the world and at the culture as well. He could not fathom why the populace continued to vote for the same politicians who did the same things, over and over again. The politicians did the same things over and over again and the results were the same over and over again, meaning the politicians said the problem could be fixed with more money and more power and by electing them again. This was called “reform” and “fixing the problem”.
They would have to cut back, Jim Thompson told himself he’d be just fine cutting back the calories so his daughter would not have to. Prices were always increasing, the value of the World Standard Unit was always decreasing and the price of government unbearable.
The official unemployment rate hovering at 0% because the government had decided that if you work a day a year you count as “employed” the real rate was around 70% with more than half of those with jobs working for government, meaning they contributed nothing to the economy but drained it.
Jim Thompson needed a real job and he hated the idea of working for the government, but times were starting to get dire. They hadn’t purchased new clothes in a decade, used clothes for sale were in serious short supply. They lived in two conjoined former cargo containers and electricity being available was sporadic at best. Water was from a community well downhill a half-mile away and he hated to see his kids lugging water when they barely had any energy.
Just after the program he was working with was saved the power went out, again. That stupid television appearance by the President must have ended, the electric authorities would never shut down during one of them. Of course there was never any electricity when a television channel planned a short and hostile interview with the opposition leader.
There was a knock at the door and it was fast and hard. Jim was instantly on his feet with images of his children being hurt or something running through his head. When he pushed open the door of his container house he found a neighbor with a broad smile who grabbed his hand to shake.
“What’s wrong?” he asked “Are Darla and Mike okay?”
The neighbor’s brow furrowed for a second and then the grin returned “I am sure they are fine, I just came to congratulate you Jim!”
“Congratulate me?” he asked, perplexed.
Then Jim remembered that his neighbor was Bill and he had a television, one of the few in the camp and the power had been on.
“You have been named the Captain of the Earth Ship One, Jim Thompson of Settlement Camp 37. This is great news, isn’t it? It means your kids are all set, of course you’ll be going on a multi-year voyage and all that, but no more worries about food and stuff!” Bill was going to ramble on and on and Jim could see his kids pulling a wagon with two jerry cans coming up the hill. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Soon the entire camp was celebrating, everyone who could do so brought something to share even if it was just a song to sing. Everyone was happy for Jim Thompson and everyone wanted to know if they could have his double container home.
Jim thanked everyone and his arm was sore from shaking so many hands and for the first time in a long while he got to see his kids grinning from ear to ear.
Within days a small convoy of government vehicles arrived to pick up Jim and his children and whisk them away each taking only a small satchel of their few personal belongings. Jim Thompson was now an international celebrity and he was given the answers to every interview, he was just going through the motions.
Within weeks he started his training with classes on Roberts Rules of Order and the power structure of the ships command. He was to learn that the position of Captain was quite a minor one in real terms. He met some of the other officers that would make the trip with him at lunch and dinner.
His first ‘friend’ was the Second Junior Cultural Affairs Officer who was from Palau, nephew of their main World Parliament member. The young man had a strange name, Polo, which apparently noted eccentric wealth in some parts of the world.
The five-trillion World Standard Units spent on the project included about three hundred billion in bribes and cronyism paybacks. Every two-bit dictator and bureaucracy wanted their share so that every major order was divided between a dozen or more organizations somewhere on Earth no matter how inefficient the decision.
The purchase of a half-million cubic feet of nitrogen was made by a committee made up of representatives from two dozen nations that ended up getting the bulk of the purified nitrogen contract. Those committee positions were bartered and fought over by the many countries of Earth and every nation had at least a few committee seats.
A private company could have done the same job in a tenth of the time and at a fifth of the cost but politicians had taken over. Years and years of haggling about the details of the mission and hearing after hearing and the infighting and backstabbing had made the whole process a colossal waste.
Now, a decade later the world is paying attention again because the thing looks like it is finally going to happen. Sure there is a former Ugandan sheepherder whose uncle-dictator secured him a spot on the ship, and yes there is that Mongolian ruler whose own son-in-law got a spot but never mind that; it’s the big picture we need to see.
Humanity, finally united, had gotten its act together, sort of, and was sending its first real starship to another solar system. Not a “nearby” system either, the final decision came down to two that were the most likely to harbor Earth-like habitable worlds and one of those was discounted over some Muslim prophecy that made it “holy” or whatever, but the mission is a go.
The Inter-Solar Mission Project had been given several names over the years but each one offended some group or political faction or nation and soon this bland replacement took its spot.
The ISMP was embodied by the giant starship Earth Ship One, again a lot of political and cultural wrangling took place, several diplomats came to blows and it was finally decided that the real official name was Earth Ship One translated into whatever language anyone wanted. On the outside of the vessel the words were painted in two dozen of the more common languages.
The main symbol of the Inter-Solar Mission Project came to be a tree in which the rounded top sort of became Earth. It was actually very nicely done until some countries complained that the image showed the eastern North American coast and western European coast and was inherently racist. So the top of the tree became ocean blue with the word EARTH in green and some clouds thrown in. They added IS on one side and MP on the other side of the tree trunk.
The catalyst for the uniting of humanity, bringing us all together in abject poverty so that bureaucrats and politicians could spend our hard-earned dollars on graft, influence peddling and corruption of the highest order.
“Why does the United States get to choose the Captain?” The committee member from Tonga asked during the discussion of crew rotation and work shifts. This question was out of order, of course, since the topic at hand was the 6-hour work day for the crew proposed by the committee member from France.
“Of course everyone knows that this honorary title of Captain bestows no real power or influence on whoever gets it. All of the decisions are made by committee and they are guided by the World Parliament and Secretariat as laid down in the by-laws passed eleven years ago and ratified seven years ago” The committee member from the United States said, reminding them of what they already knew. “This position is really just someone who takes orders and then hands them out to the crew. Every country was assigned positions to fill on the ship and we traded and bartered amongst ourselves. Rashid over there had his nose broken, if you remember, during a dispute over the Chief Janitorial Officer position.”
Of course their phony objections and jockeying for political favoritism played well in their national press, everyone did it. It didn’t hurt that most of them controlled their own press with an iron fist either.
“The issue at hand is how we divide the work into four shifts” the committee member from France reminded them. The committee member from Canada interjected “No, the issue is do we divide it into four shifts”. The two argued briefly before the committee member from Nauru asked “I object to the Captain position being an American…” starting the whole thing over again.
The Environmental Council continued to create problems by overriding decisions based on what it said were ecological grounds. On the problem of crew human waste it had objected to dumping it into space, storing it on the ship, burning it for fuel, burning anything for fuel actually or even launching the waste into the sun. Finally after years of wrangling the First Committee ruled that the Environmental Committee had no jurisdiction in the matter, upon which the EC took the matter to the World Court, which said it would study the matter and decided whether to hear a case in a year or two.
Meanwhile in the United States the filling of the Captain position was a hot potato that everyone was fighting over. The pacifists vehemently objected to the notion that a military officer or even a veteran or the son of a veteran be chosen. The radical feminists, barely resembling women, strongly favored a female for the job on the grounds that all men are rapists and pigs and therefore repugnant.
Muslims objected that the Captain might be a Christian or other infidel and threatened further problems if their will were not heeded. Animal rights activists suggested that an animal would make as good a Captain as a human.
The politicians meanwhile fought over the political points of what party the Captain should be a member of. Others suggested the Captain should naturally be from their fine states and cities and any who do not agree were worse than Hitler.
After years the Special Representative Council finally proposed the position be filled by random drawing from among citizens. This brought an outcry of protests from illegal immigrant advocates that foreigners not be excluded because this was discriminatory even if other nations had never considered giving foreigners their positions. On this one the illegal aliens lost out.
On the bright side Mexico had its own positions to fill, the best one being Cultural Events Planner aboard the ship.
The Captain Lottery would be done by a computer program that would choose someone at random, this was to be shown on live television. The President of the United States, having little else to do, was made the host of the event.
“The honorary title of Captain is not in actual fact a powerful position but the title still denotes a lingering aura of authority. This computer will choose one of you to be the Captain of Earth Ship One, your duties will be to follow orders from the World Authority and to hand down orders to others aboard the ship.” The President said before airing short taped interviews with the Secretary-General about the importance of Earth Ship One and with a “well renowned scientist” about its mission.
“Finally I believe we are ready to see the name chosen by the computer…”
More than two thousand miles away a man sat at his older computer trying to figure out how to feed his family. He had once upon a time owned a thriving business manufacturing minor electronic components but high taxes, heavy-handed regulations and government-subsidized competitors put him out of business.
The nation and world economy was in shambles, with more than ninety-three percent of the people on Earth living in poverty. The United States government owned dozens of money-losing “corporations” that produced products and services people did not want or like. Then again, since they were backed by government it didn’t matter if the customers were happy, they had no choice in the matter.
This man, Jim Thompson, was dismayed at the state of the country and the world and at the culture as well. He could not fathom why the populace continued to vote for the same politicians who did the same things, over and over again. The politicians did the same things over and over again and the results were the same over and over again, meaning the politicians said the problem could be fixed with more money and more power and by electing them again. This was called “reform” and “fixing the problem”.
They would have to cut back, Jim Thompson told himself he’d be just fine cutting back the calories so his daughter would not have to. Prices were always increasing, the value of the World Standard Unit was always decreasing and the price of government unbearable.
The official unemployment rate hovering at 0% because the government had decided that if you work a day a year you count as “employed” the real rate was around 70% with more than half of those with jobs working for government, meaning they contributed nothing to the economy but drained it.
Jim Thompson needed a real job and he hated the idea of working for the government, but times were starting to get dire. They hadn’t purchased new clothes in a decade, used clothes for sale were in serious short supply. They lived in two conjoined former cargo containers and electricity being available was sporadic at best. Water was from a community well downhill a half-mile away and he hated to see his kids lugging water when they barely had any energy.
Just after the program he was working with was saved the power went out, again. That stupid television appearance by the President must have ended, the electric authorities would never shut down during one of them. Of course there was never any electricity when a television channel planned a short and hostile interview with the opposition leader.
There was a knock at the door and it was fast and hard. Jim was instantly on his feet with images of his children being hurt or something running through his head. When he pushed open the door of his container house he found a neighbor with a broad smile who grabbed his hand to shake.
“What’s wrong?” he asked “Are Darla and Mike okay?”
The neighbor’s brow furrowed for a second and then the grin returned “I am sure they are fine, I just came to congratulate you Jim!”
“Congratulate me?” he asked, perplexed.
Then Jim remembered that his neighbor was Bill and he had a television, one of the few in the camp and the power had been on.
“You have been named the Captain of the Earth Ship One, Jim Thompson of Settlement Camp 37. This is great news, isn’t it? It means your kids are all set, of course you’ll be going on a multi-year voyage and all that, but no more worries about food and stuff!” Bill was going to ramble on and on and Jim could see his kids pulling a wagon with two jerry cans coming up the hill. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Soon the entire camp was celebrating, everyone who could do so brought something to share even if it was just a song to sing. Everyone was happy for Jim Thompson and everyone wanted to know if they could have his double container home.
Jim thanked everyone and his arm was sore from shaking so many hands and for the first time in a long while he got to see his kids grinning from ear to ear.
Within days a small convoy of government vehicles arrived to pick up Jim and his children and whisk them away each taking only a small satchel of their few personal belongings. Jim Thompson was now an international celebrity and he was given the answers to every interview, he was just going through the motions.
Within weeks he started his training with classes on Roberts Rules of Order and the power structure of the ships command. He was to learn that the position of Captain was quite a minor one in real terms. He met some of the other officers that would make the trip with him at lunch and dinner.
His first ‘friend’ was the Second Junior Cultural Affairs Officer who was from Palau, nephew of their main World Parliament member. The young man had a strange name, Polo, which apparently noted eccentric wealth in some parts of the world.
