A Rainbow in Brooklyn, June 2019
A storm crashed through Brooklyn today, ripping out branches up and down 6th Avenue. Then a rainbow appeared in Park Slope, at the top of the hill, just above the Pilates place.
A storm crashed through Brooklyn today, ripping out branches up and down 6th Avenue. Then a rainbow appeared in Park Slope, at the top of the hill, just above the Pilates place.
Case Files of Rolkahr Dholztra, Kuzdrohna Department of Public Safety
[Editor’s Note: Read Episode 1, here.]
The brutal Belanthrese attack on the Nolatrid homeworld continued to rage across town and countryside, while the waterways stayed relatively calm. Since the dawn of orbital warfare, aquatic battleships. submarines and aircraft carriers had become as obsolete as the humans’ ancient cavalry divisions.
Not content with the damage already inflicted, the enemy had now launched a comprehensive ground-based assault. While major government facilities, roads, bridges and dams were hit hardest, residential areas weren’t spared. Across the planet, desperate citizens flocked to municipal shelters, only to find many of them already compromised.
By vastly underestimating the scope and intensity of the Belanthrese battle plan, Nolatrid military had been caught flat-footed. Only in the last few hours had homeworld forces begun to rally, by winning a major skirmish on the outskirts of Kuzdrohna, the capital city. But it would take a lot more than that to gain the upper hand, not least because, by then, the invaders had broken the Nolatrid spirit.
At the relocated, underground HCBI headquarters in Pelintherash, however, the dedicated agents refused to give up hope. The only demoralizing point was the disappearance of Detective Dholztra, who hadn’t been heard from since before the agency’s flying bunker had touched down the previous day. Inside a secure conference room, Agent Grelek pounded all four of his fists into the large, shiny table around which he, Jalinoor and Imogen were seated.
“Should have picked him up on our way out,” he said.
“Not your fault,” said Jalinoor. “Deputy Director Lotrianka insisted we head here directly.”
Greleck snorted.
“That’s the last order I take from that pea-brained chrysalis,” he said. “The worst of it is, we don’t have a crumb of intel on the Detective’s whereabouts.”
A disturbance outside the conference room made the world-weary HCBI agent yank the door open. From the threshold, he saw a junior agent named Rhethalaz being subdued by a uniformed security guard.
“You better have a good explanation for this racket,” he said.
“Agent Grelek,” said the young female, “It’s the robotic unit … “Celia” … it just walked into your office and started talking. I wanted to tell you immediately, but this idiot wouldn’t let me in.”
“Guard’s just doing his job,” said Grelek. “Let her go, OK? Why didn’t you comlink me?”
“Our secure channel may be compromised,” said Rhethalaz. “The Deputy Director….”
“Never mind that,” said Grelek. “Where’s the unit now?”
Panting, Rhethalaz pointed down the corridor to Grelek’s office, and Grelek called out to Jalinoor and Imogen. The three of them raced off, following her lead. If “Celia” were talking again, that could mean only one thing.
“Detective!” said Grelek, the moment he entered his office
It had taken a few grueling hours, but Dholztra had eventually trudged far enough into the desert to escape the electromagnetic interference generated by Halfoorn’s high-tech underground lair. So when his implant finally connected to “Celia,” his voice sounded weak, distracted and less than fully coherent. Yet with a few grunted phrases he made the main points clear.
“Still alive?” asked Imogen, her voice an odd mix of consternation and, truth be told, relief.
More to the point, Dholztra conveyed the startling news that Halfoorn had stolen his very consciousness and pressed it into service.
“I’m afraid this is it,” he murmured through the robotic unit. “That maniac knows everything now.”
“On the contrary,” said Grelek. “We know everything. You’ll be able to predict Halfoorn’s every move. But that can wait. Just keep the link open so we can find you.”
“Don’t … waste … time,” said the unit. “Find coordinates. Destroy.”
Grelek refused to hear that. What Dholztra didn’t realize, was how extensive the Belanthrese assault had become. With almost half the population on the run, destroying Halfoorn would be meaningless until they could turn the tide militarily.
“No way to know if this Halfoorn is the last one,” said Grelek. The wary agent figured they might only learn the true identity of their enemy when they defeated him. Meanwhile, with help from the HCBI’s crackerjack cyber tracking unit, the agency had homed in on Dholztra’s coordinates. On Grelek’s orders, a rescue team consisting of a Special Ops squad, a field doctor and an emergency medical team were dispatched to bring him in.
They arrived not a moment too soon, to find the miserable detective cowering in the faint shadow of a sand dune that the wind had piled up only hours before. Dehydrated, trembling and in abject terror, he seemed to be engaged in a vigorous conversation with … well that wasn’t at all clear.
“Why should I believe you?” the field medics heard him say as they laid him on a stretcher. A moment later, he’d passed out. Once onboard the armored lander that Grelek had sent for him, the med team set to work pumping the exhausted detective with fluids. At the same time, they carefully removed every trace of the burning sand that had scarred his exoskeleton almost beyond recognition.
Gradually, on the four-hour flight to Pelintherash, Dholztra’s outlook improved, until he was able to sit up, enjoy a light meal and answer questions. Though the lander’s skilled pilots made every effort to avoid the worst battle zones, the areas not yet affected by intense fighting were dwindling fast. More than once, the fragile Nolatrid winced at a jolt from the resulting turbulence.
Now that he was awake, the weary detective’s strange inner dialogue with a phantom conversationalist resumed. The field medics shook their heads at what they assumed were early signs of brain damage. Had they known the truth, however, it’s doubtful they’d have been any more reassured.
Fact was, the voice Dholztra now responded to was none other than his own. That is, the copy of his consciousness that Halfoorn had made the day before. What the besotted tyrant had failed to take into account was the control chip the HCBI had installed in Dholztra’s brain, so he could control “Celia.” By failing to remove the chip, Halfoorn had allowed his brainwave mapping system to make an exact emulation of the detective’s remote link.
As a consequence, Duplicate Dholztra, now embedded in Halfoorn’s globe-spanning AI, could reach out across vast distances and communicate directly with the original wetware in the detective’s brain. And, as it turned out, Duplicate Dholztra was a bit of a wise acre.
Come on, Rolkahr, it was saying into his weary mind. Of course you can trust me. I’m you.
“Really?” said the detective. “I’d never work for Halfoorn, no matter what he did to me.”
Exactly, said the duplicate. That’s why I’m contacting you … me.
“Forget it,” said Dholztra. “You just want to earn my trust so I’ll tell you our strategy.”
You don’t get it, said the duplicate. I already know everything you know, the second you do.
“The implant!” said Dholztra. “I’ll get it yanked out. Then where will you be?”
Totally under Halfoorn’s thumb, said the increasingly life-like voice. Without you, I’ll go pure evil. You gotta help me, Rolkahr.
“Leave me alone!” Dholztra shouted and was startled by the sound of Grelek’s voice coming over the lander’s intercom.
“What’s going on up there, Detective?” asked Grelek. “The medics tell me you’re ranting like a psychotic bark beetle. You gotta snap out of it. We need you.”
“That’s the problem,” said Dholztra. “Everybody needs me — even me … I mean the copy of me that Halfoorn made. Turns out it can speak to me through my “Celia” implant.”
“Think of the intel we could get out of your … your clone,” said Jalinoor.
“Please,” said Dholztra, “it can hear you. So don’t get insulting. Thing is, I don’t know if I trust Detective Dupe. Hey, I know, let’s give him a target to eliminate.”
“Risky,” said Jalinoor. “We can’t blow up something that we couldn’t possibly know about, without giving away our secret weapon.”
Still, the idea was intriguing, in that even a temporary setback for the enemy would buy them some time. But might there be a more productive use of this bizarre strategic windfall?
“We still don’t know the status of LunarOne,” said Grelek. “If the Admiral’s only in lock-up, we might be able to get her forces operative again. That’d be worth a thousand planet-side targets.”
“What do you think, Dupe?” Dholztra asked his cyber copy. ”Talk through ‘Celia’ now, so everybody can hear you.”
A split second later, Grelek, Jalinoor and Imogen saw “Celia” spring to life again in Grelek’s office.
“I’ll see if I can enter their systems,” said Duplicate Dholztra. “I know Halfoorn has a direct link somewhere — but LunarOne is the lizards’ mess. I’ll have to tap into their system and … yeah, I’m in. You’re in luck, Pal. The lizard leader figured LunarOne was too useful to destroy. Same for its leadership. Admiral Nethrez and the senior staff are all locked up in stasis chambers.”
Imogen’s eyes welled up at the thought of so many potential casualties.
“And the … the crew?” she asked.
According to the cyber clone, the rest of the LunarOne force had been pressed into service by blackmail. One false move and the Admiral’s stasis chamber would be flushed out of the nearest airlock. Meanwhile, the Belanthrese kept the base on red alert at all times.
“Much as I’d like to break the Admiral out,” said Grelek, “I don’t see how you can do it without getting the base personnel killed. Nobody wakes up easy from stasis, especially after all this time. She wouldn’t be battle-ready for hours.”
“Way ahead of you, Agent Grelek,” said the duplicate. “I’ve already got a file started on that nanobot weapon you told us about. Kid stuff. I can upload it to the Belanthrese command center on LunarOne anytime. The lizards will be cold — and out cold — pronto.”
“Think you can do all that without being detected?” Dholztra asked his other self.
The simulacrum snorted. Halfoorn, it turned out, was quite the hedonist.
“The main reason he wanted to upload our brain was so he could indulge himself more,” said the duplicate. “Right about now, he’s probably enjoying his second helping of … well, you know what I mean. The guy’s insatiable. That’s why it seemed natural to add a few … additives … to his water supply. ”
“Then let’s act fast,” said Grelek. “No matter how far gone he is, he’ll come up for air at some point. I say go.”
“Me too,” said Jalinoor. Imogen nodded.
“Let us know the minute the lizards are out,” said the detective. “Let’s hope Halfoorn stays under the influence until they are. But, hey … what’s up with that mystery fleet I keep hearing about?”
“You sitting down?” asked the duplicate.
The latest intel showed a revived Earth fleet closing in on the Nolatrid solar system, with a series of risky, short-range spacefolds. From there on out, it was hard for Dholztra and the rest to tell whether time had sped up or their frame of reference had downshifted to a different plane of consciousness. Though they had no idea of the humans’ intent, the addition of another player to this high stakes poker game was a wild card no one could ignore.
“What if the humans have bought into Halfoorn’s phony promises?” asked Dholztra.
“Oh, I doubt that,” said Imogen.
“How can you be sure?” asked Grelek.
“I can’t — except my father used to tell me about Earth history,” said the human female. “Especially on one of our traditional holidays. You know, like the Fourth of July.”
“The what?” asked Dholztra.
“Never mind,” said Imogen. “Dad used to tell me about a time, five hundred cycles ago, when a guy like Halfoorn had his own insane ideas about creating a “master race” of genetically perfect specimens. Would have destroyed the whole planet if they hadn’t stopped him.”
“Destroyed … how?” asked Grelek.
“Dad said his scientists came this close to developing nucleonics,” said Imogen. “Anyway, I’ll bet you a million credits that EarthGov was ready to sign up with Halfoorn, until he explained his genome remapping scheme. If he showed them a holovid of … of Nyles … they would’ve seen their old enemy had come to life again.”
“It’s like sentience has this sick joke buried in it,” said Jalinoor. “Just when you think you’re close to evolving, Reality pulls you back into the muck.”.
“Yeah,” said Imogen. “And don’t get me wrong. The leaders of the Nolatrid invasion weren’t any better. Don’t know how my father got sucked into that. That’s why I’m not positive these new human ships won’t support Halfoorn after all. Craters, what makes evil people so persuasive?”
“Because anybody who can imagine the future is scared by it,” said Dholztra. “Too many unknowns, right? So when somebody says they have all the answers, it’s comforting. Besides, the way life works, it’s easy for average folk to feel they don’t get a fair shake. Guys like Halfoorn know exactly what we want to hear. That’s how they get us to look the other way, until they’ve destroyed our freedoms.”
“Well not this time,” said Grelek. “Maybe we can’t change the sentient condition, but sure as water’s wet, we’re gonna stop this nut job. Dupe? How soon before we can patch into the LunarOne comsystem?”
“Oh,” said Dholztra’s quantum clone. “You wanted me to wait? The lizards are already dropping like flies. I told the operatives not to touch the thermostats and to get their officers out of stasis right away.”
“Good work,” said Dholztra. “Can you pull the same stunt on the entire Belanthrese fleet?”
“Sorry, me, I gotta go offline for a while,” said the clone. “The First Citizen’s waking up. Good luck.”
Now the fate of the Nolatrid system and the lives of trillions of peace-loving citizens across three galaxies turned on the initiative of a moonbase-full of groggy military operatives. Yet to their credit, they swung into action immediately, by dispatching the bulk of their assault force to Nolatre and engaging the Belanthrese space perimeter with terrific force.
Yet it was, as the saying goes, too little too late. While Admiral Nethrez exhibited tactical brilliance on all fronts, the focus of the battle was now on the planet’s surface, where billions of innocents were under threat of mass extinction. Nolatrid forces battled on bravely, but were outnumbered by as much as three to one in some locations. Despite a few lucky breaks, thanks to Duplicate Dholztra, it looked as if the end of Nolatrid independence — and even, perhaps the entire Nolatrid species — were just over the next horizon.
Against this background of despair, the arrival of the human ships came as an even deeper blow.
Imogen’s second-hand knowledge of human history notwithstanding, there was no way to know what impact they might have on the situation. That is, until two of their lead ships fired two halves of a massive positron torpedo at a Belanthrese battle cruiser that was parked in geostationary orbit. The halves joined each other mid-trajectory and annihilated the enemy ship faster than the average Nolatrid could inhale. The fiery explosion lit up the afternoon sky for a full minute.
From there on out, the fighting escalated to unheard of levels of devastation. Bridges collapsed, roads buckled, communication towers snapped and the terrain was beginning to take on the deadly pallor of an airless moon. The sight of the humans’ early victory heartened the Nolatrid forces and encouraged them to rally against the odds. But though his Belanthrese confederates had been blindsided, Halfoorn himself had another hand to play.
Across the planet, on all eight continents, a series of strategically placed sliding doors opened up in the crust. Out of them streamed wave after wave of severely mutated male human clones. They quickly assembled into a planet-spanning army of hulking soldiers clad in dense body armor.
Worse, SWARM’s heavily shielded central AI confirmed that each soldier was equipped with advanced-design cyborg implants. No wonder they immediately demonstrated an ability to target their weapons with superhuman accuracy. They fought like demons and within hours had commandeered nearly every major Nolatrid spaceport. Soon enough, thanks to the mutants’ relentless pounding, what little had survived of the main Nolatrid fleet after the Belanthrese assault was in shambles. Though a relatively small contingent of battle cruisers was on its way from Nolatre’s most prosperous colony, the space force on LunarOne was all they could count on for now.
Yet in the midst of this disturbing development, a ray of hope burst through for the Detective. Word arrived that Halfoorn had put every available soldier into direct combat maneuvers. That meant the small patrol unit that had kept Treldraah captive at her sister’s home in Romnexia was now disbanded. She might survive the war after all. But the news had barely registered in Dholztra’s mind before the facts at hand demanded his full attention again.
“Now what?” he asked. “Dupe! Can you infiltrate the mutant’s implants?”
After an uncomfortably long delay, the detective heard his cyber clone whisper in his mind.
“Can’t risk it now,” it said. “But I have an idea that might work if you can implement it. You’re in luck. Halfoorn has linked all of their implants into his central system — that is, into me. It’s a strategy thing; no time to explain. Sending details to Grelek. Don’t contact me again until….”
The mentallic link went dead and Dholztra was forced to hope that his other self was merely disconnected. But this was no time for mourning. He had to see if Grelek could carry out Duplicate Dholztra’s attack plan.
“Pretty ambitious,” said Grelek. “Considering we aren’t supercomputers embedded in the heart of Halfoorn’s system, like Dupe. We don’t have a safe way to deliver his malware program to those implants.”
“What about ‘Celia’?” asked Imogen. “I’ll bet those poor boys have never even seen a human female. If she distracted their leader long enough, she could transmit the program and infect the entire army.”
“That might work,” said Grelek. “Dupe said they’re centrally controlled. If we infect one, we’ll infect them all.”
Dholztra sank his head into his front two hands.
“And infect Dupe, too,” he said.
“We don’t have a choice,” said Grelek. “Besides, Dupe is you. Wouldn’t you do the same?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” said the detective. “But I don’t have to like it.”
Yet now, even with a plan in place, the dedicated team was still up against Time itself. Though the combined LunarOne-Earth fleet had started to put a dent in the Belanthrese assault, their adversary’s head start was a formidable advantage.
“I’ve just heard from LunarOne,” said Jalinoor, “The Admiral is meeting now with the human ‘Supreme Commander’ to work out a coordinated strategy. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Let’s just hope it’s not the last day we see,” said Dholztra. “Is ‘Celia’ ready? And by the way, what exactly should she do when she gets out there?”
“I’ll help you,” said Imogen. “Just don’t get too embarrassed.”
“Can’t believe the fate of my homeworld depends on whether I can get in touch with my feminine side,” said Dholztra.
While they worked out their charm offensive against Halfoorn’s soldiers, Grelek was busy securing an armored auto car to take the robotic unit into the midst of the raging battlefield. Within two hours, Grelek’s staff had replicated a new, decidedly less business-like outfit for “Celia,” and changed the robotic unit’s clothes. They also took care to install the necessary nano-transmitters into the palm of her hands. It was a long shot, but if the robotic unit could get close enough to touch one of the mutant humans, the transmitters would do the rest.
“How do we know Halfoorn’s soldiers won’t blast the car to bits before it even gets close?” asked Jalinoor.
“If the chameleon circuits hold, we should be fine,” said Grelek. “They won’t even see the car until it’s practically on top of them. Then the circuits will switch programs and the car will appear to have Halfoorn’s First Citizen logo on it. That’ll be your cue, Detective. You’ll get ‘Celia’ out of there and work whatever magic you can.”
Dholztra took over from there and walked the robotic unit over to the armored car, where technicians showed him, through “Celia’s” eyes, how to work the safety harness and the internal door handles. HCBI operatives slammed the doors and Dholztra watched as the car sped out across the smoldering battlefield toward the nearest formation of mutant soldiers.
As predicted, the chameleon circuits kept the car off the mutants’ visual sensors, while the noise of battle masked any engine noise, until it was in close range. At that point it stopped. “Celia” walked out onto the rubble-strewn terrain and waved at the soldiers as they rushed passed.
“Hey guys,” the unit called out. “All hail the First Citizen. Can you help me out? I’m kinda lost and my dang car just conked out.”
The closest soldier stopped short and turned his perplexed face in her direction. His massive jaws, though still nominally humanoid, bristled with pearly white, razor sharp teeth that glistened in the afternoon sun.
“What … what are you doing out here … Miss?” said his shy, awkward voice. “You could … you could get hurt.”
“It’s the darn nav-AI on my car,” said the unit. “It just went all … crazy … and I couldn’t control it. Could you fix it for me, please? I read the manual, but it gave me a headache.”
“Kind of busy … but … OK,” said the soldier. “But you gotta promise me. Drive outta here as soon as I get this working.”
“Oh, thanks,” said the unit. “You’re such a sweet guy.” And before the soldier knew what was happening, “Celia” reached up, took his horribly distorted face in both hands and kissed him. Instantly, the nano-transmitters went to work. The soldiers eyes went blank. He stepped back and nearly stumbled over his own feet. He bent double and a series of gagging sounds squeezed out of his throat. Dholztra wasted no time stepping “Celia” back into the auto car, which sped off back toward the entrance to the underground HCBI headquarters.
Inside the secure facility, Dholztra glared at Imogen.
“Was that last part really necessary?” he asked. Imogen tried to suppress a smile — and failed.
“We had to get close enough, right?” she said. “Tell you what. I promise to handle it differently the next time we’re in a similar situation.”
In spite of himself, Dholztra laughed, but not for long. Reports were coming in of Halfoorn’s soldiers falling where they stood, all across the planet.
“Looks like it worked,” he said. “I just wonder what happened to Dupe.”
Later that evening, more encouraging news came in about the largely decimated Belanthran fleet. To the astonishment of the Nolatrid High Command, the humans’ innovative sonic weapons had played havoc with the enemy ships. Better yet, a design flaw in standard Belanthrese guidance systems made them especially susceptible to sonic disruption. It was a type of weaponry no one on this side of the universe had ever considered and it took the proud insectoids by surprise.
Yet as always in war, the triumphs of one day are easily dispelled by sunrise on the next.
“Craters, look at this!” Jalinoor called out the following morning, from across the situation room where they’d been camped out these many hours. He pointed frantically at the room’s main view screen and Dholztra’s antennae twitched at the scene unfolding before him. In the outskirts of Kuzdrohna, where the HCBI had convinced itself that Nolatrid forces had finally taken control, an oddly shaped mound of earth had risen up in what had once been a municipal park. Now the onscreen image shook as an immense, glinting metal device broke through its upper surface, looking for all the world like an outsized corkscrew.
Up the screw turned; it uprooted trees and ripped through the electrical grid. It also smashed through water mains and sewer lines, until the entire area was awash in water and bio-waste. Sparks flew at random as downed powerlines careened off trees, buildings and each other. The scene had all the earmarks of an urban Armageddon and it was just getting started.
Now the screw stopped abruptly and a gigantic sphere emerged from the park’s swampy remains. A menacing array of tentacles dotted the surface of the orb. Each one ended in a heavy armament that began firing with merciless fury. At the same time, a dark voice boomed out from deep within the sphere. In the hysteria of the moment, as citizens of all stripes ran in vain to find shelter, the message the voice delivered blotted out rational thought:
CITIZENS OF THE THREE GALAXIES: UNDER MY PROTECTION, THE PARASITES OF SWARM WILL WAGE THEIR GALACTIC CARNAGE NO MORE. FOLLOW ME OR PERISH AT THEIR HANDS. I ALONE CAN SAVE YOU. I ALONE CA… OWN … AN …ALO … WHAT IS HAPPEN … HAPPE … DHOLZTRA YOU … FOOL … WHAT HAVE … AV … YOU DONE?
Now the mayhem the sphere had initiated began to turn on itself. Its tentacles ceased firing and turned inward, only to fire again on the sphere itself at full blast.
“It’s Dupe!” cried Dholztra. “He came through!”
My last hurrah, Pal, said a faint voice in the detective’s mind. You know, that’s one sick brain you have there, but I guess you’re used to it. Anyway, nice knowing you. Say hi to Treldraah for me, you lucky ‘sectoid cretin.”
With that, Dholztra’s cybercopy winked out of existence.
Can’t say I’ll miss him, he thought. Mainly because I’m still stuck with him….
Meanwhile, the combined space fleets of LunarOne and Earth saw their opportunity and took it, firing as one on the sphere and the desert coordinates Dholztra had identified the previous day. It was a searing stream of weapons fire not seen in the three galaxies within living memory. But when the dust and smoked cleared, the flooding subsided and the hearts of a hundred thousand mutant soldiers ran cold, it was all over.
“Can’t really call it a victory,” said Grelek. “We’ve lost a monster, and gained a legacy of fear that I’m not sure we can ever recover from.”
“You hope he’s lost,” said Dholztra. “But you can bet that Halfoorn wove himself a safety net. He’ll be back.”
Jalinoor’s multifaceted eyes squeezed shut
“How did Halfoorn ever build such a massive power base?” he asked. “Even with a twenty-five cycle head start?”
“We let it happen,” said Grelek. “We got complacent and stopped paying attention.”
“Come on, don’t take it so hard,” said Dholztra. “Nobody expects a monster like that.”
“And now?” asked Grelek. “You think after we rebuild, we won’t slide back?”
Dholztra shrugged.
“No time for that debate,” he said, “until we fix up the mess that Halfoorn made.”
And in the coming weeks, the savvy detective’s words rang true many times over. For starters, the damage Halfoorn and his confederates had done to Nolatre was daunting. Aside from the sheer scale of physical destruction, his corrupting influence had shaken public trust in SWARM leadership to its core. Weeding out Halfoorn’s collaborators was only half the battle. There was also the challenge of holding meaningful elections at a time when the planet’s entire infrastructure was in tatters.
The only silver lining was the flip side of Halfoorn’s meteoric rise — after decades of planning in obscurity. So new was his rebellion that the majority of the Nolatrid colony worlds had remained untouched. Thankfully, following a quick assessment of the homeworld’s most critical needs, volunteers from Nolatre’s twelve colonies began pouring in, accompanied by financial managers and engineers, who brought an army of advanced-design replicators, automated tools and robotic units with them.
As a consequence, the planet’s most urgent needs were met, in a matter of weeks, albeit through a patchwork of improvised solutions that wouldn’t hold for long. In this regard, the humans proved especially helpful. Their own fairly recent experience in rebuilding Earth, in the aftermath of their failed invasion, enabled them to offer the Nolatrids a fresh approach to disaster management. Over the next few months the humans’ advice became the foundation of a new interplanetary cooperation agreement that eventually include a technology exchanges and a mutual defense pact.
Still in all, it was nearly a year before, on a balmy day in mid-spring, Dholztra gathered with the two HCBI Agents, and other members of the Bureau, at the refurbished Kuzdrohna headquarters for a gala farewell to Imogen. In the intervening time, she’d joined the thousands of humans, both in the Red Disk program and from amongst the rebellious human diaspora, to accept an offer of repatriation, extended by the human fleet commander. Under different circumstances, Imogen’s formal reception might have made her heart swell with joy and anticipation.
Yet if she saw the prospect of traveling to her ancestral homeworld as a dream come true, it didn’t show in her sullen expression.
“Not sure what to expect,” she told Dholztra. “Nolatre is the only world I’ve ever known. After my mother died, my father tried to bring Nyles and me up like real Earth kids, but he didn’t have much to work with. I can count the number of facts I know about Earth, let alone its history. And, let me tell you, after five cycles of speaking almost nothing but Nolatrid, I don’t even know if I can hold a conversation in the main human language.”
“Wait,” said Dholztra, “you have more than one? Isn’t that a little crazy?”
“I’ll find out, I guess,” said Imogen. “Besides, what could seem crazy after this?”
Dholztra was about to agree, but the sound of the door opening behind him made him spin around.
“Take it easy, Detective,” said Admiral Nethrez. “War’s over now, remember? Imogen, there you are! I want you to meet Captain Craig Stone of the Earth ship Redemption. He says he knew your father.”
Imogen’s eyes misted over.
“Really?” she whispered.
“No, actually,” said Stone, “but I feel like I did. My uncle Todd served in the same unit as your dad. He was one of the lucky ones, who got away when EarthGov pulled out. Used to talk about your father all the time.”
“Sorry, if I can’t … can’t …” said Imogen, “What EarthGov did was … well … thanks for remembering my father.”
Captain Stone glanced down at his polished, neo-leather boots.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “the invasion disaster turned everything around on the homeworld. It’s a different place now.”
“Congratulations,” said Imogen. “But I’m only going to Earth because I’m out of options. So far, the Nolatrids have a better track record with me than your people.”
“I can’t blame you,” said Stone. “But I also can’t change the past. Will you give us a chance?”
Imogen walked away, her face lined with tears.
“I’m a fool,” said the Admiral. “I should have known she wasn’t ready to meet you.”
“I think we’ve all learned that ‘should have known’ is one of those phrases we can do without,” said Dholztra. “What matters is how you play with the cards in your hand. Imogen is tough as titanium. She might never forgive EarthGov, but she’ll pull herself together. Me? I’m not so sure.”
Agent Grelek clapped him on the back.
“Come on, Detective,” he said. “I’ll bet you’re secretly itching to get back to your case files.”
“Maybe later,” said Dholztra. “Right now, what I’m itching for just walked into the room.”
Grelek, Nethrez and Stone turned around to see Treldraah tiptoe into the Agency’s imposing ballroom.
“Dholztra, you big lug,” she called out. “You could’ve told me this was gonna be so fancy.”
The wily detective rushed to her side.
“Nobody’s fancier than you, Larva,” he whispered.
“Shut up,” said Treldraah. “You have some fresh mouth for a guy who almost got me killed.”
“Sorry about that, Trel,” said Dholztra. “Maybe I should start selling insurance.”
“You do and you can forget what I have in mind for later,” said Treldraah.
“Later?” asked Dholztra. “What do you mean?”
Treldraah blinked back tears.
“Gyroscopes, Rolkahr,” she said. “For the world’s greatest detective, you sure are clueless sometimes.”
Whatever sheepish reply Dholztra was about to make was drowned out by the sound of the hired dance band, striking up with a medley of popular favorites. Dholztra twirled his antennae, took his cue from Destiny and swept his girlfriend out onto the dance floor.
“Stepping on my feet,” Treldraah complained. But the way her eye-facets shone, it was clear she didn’t mind a bit.
THE END
^^^
IF YOU ENJOYED INSECTIVE BY MARK LAPORTA,
PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD
Art by Mélanie Bohémier Gagné
Mark Laporta is the acclaimed author of the Changing Hearts of Ixdahan Daherek series and the new novel, Probability Shadow, which was published in October by Chickadee Prince Books, available now in paperback or ebook on Amazon, Barnes & Noble or at a bookstore near you.
The Tenth Plague, by Alan N. Levy, will be published by Chickadee Prince Books on September 15, 2019 in trade paperback and Kindle.
LEVY: I attended the University of Illinois and obtained my Master’s in Statistics in 1966. In order to help pay for college, I had federal loans which were paid, in full, in the ten years following my graduation. Sometimes, those payments were a real challenge to mail, but I paid the loans in full and on time. Later, in perhaps 1977, I read an article that reported only about three percent of those loans were being paid back, and I was so outraged that I wrote a scathing letter to the editor of the Chicago Tribune. It was published, and every once in a while over the next several years, I’d submit something to the Tribune. I realized that writing something, even if it’s not published, was a superb way to get things off my chest, and in 1990 I began writing my first novel. Frankly, it was disjointed, but I’ve come a long way since then. A hobby has gradually become my passion. I still write to get things off my chest, and it’s a much better practice than taking meds.
A column may help people and address a subject fleetingly, while a novel takes them into the very soul of the issues at hand. If your heart rate quickens when you’re immersed in the plot, if you flinch when an explosion occurs on paper, you’re living through the experience the author is portraying. In the case of our dealings with Iran, I don’t believe we comprehend the depth of their conviction, and my novel displays their relentless determination to attack Israel and the United States. It’s designed to be a wakeup call, in more ways than one.
When we entered into the “Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action” with Iran, that nation was essentially instructed to “chill” in terms of nuclear technological development for a period of ten years, and we released billions of dollars in return for that promise. Even though President Trump pulled us back out of that agreement, we cannot ask Iran to return the previously-seized assets. So the current administration’s position seems clearly too little, too late. It’s simply very easy now for Iran to move into the nuclear arena, and they don’t necessarily have to do it by purchasing thousands of centrifuges. They can work a deal with North Korea … dollars for food in return for nuclear expertise, or they can wait ten years and then develop nuclear weapons on their own. My novel anticipates they have done so, and they are preparing to launch against Iran’s mortal enemies. We truly believe we can negotiate with anyone, including Jihadists and those who strap explosives to their children. All those discussions will fail, because we fail to appreciate the determination of those in Tehran.
Yes, I’m conservative in many ways, and all my relatives in Chicago are liberal Democrats. We do break bread together once in a while, and the experience doesn’t seem to do harm to any of us. I have a few far more liberal views, when it comes to social welfare and education programs, and health care. I’m also opposed to spending billions of dollars on less than one-fifth of a wall at the border with Mexico. If the Mongols could figure out it was easier to invade China by studying The Great Wall and marched around it, the average Mexican will intuitively know to head for gaps in ours. I believe one should take a liberal or conservative stance, or one of neutrality, based solely on the particular issue at hand. People at either end on the spectrum, who rubber-stamp everything in a consistent and unflinching way, worry me.
Israelis have only one choice … attack in defense of their nation. To wait until Iran unleashes nuclear weapons is absurd, and that’s the core of the decisions indicated in my novel.
I’m not particularly in favor of dismantling NATO, but I do believe we must reconsider whether we are prepared, for a third time, to come to the aid of Western European nations. In World War II, between May and June of 1940 alone, 1.8 million French soldiers surrendered to the Nazis rather than fight to defend their nation. We seriously must decide if it is worth more American lives to come, once again, to the aid of France and fight, side by side, with Germany against the Russians, if that’s the next explosive situation on that continent. I say we should not, and yes, it clearly makes America stronger to not expend lives and billions of dollars in another European land war.
I write from an acorn, a single thought or issue from which a plot emanates. My most recent thought now has roots, and I’m watching it grow into what will be my next novel. Five pages of text to date, and a plot blossoming in my head.
Alan N. Levy, a political columnist at Audere and blogger at The Times of Israel, is also the author of The Tenth Plague, an acclaimed geo-political thriller that focuses on a future with a nuclear-armed Iran, coming in September from Chickadee Prince Books. The book is available right now for pre-order in paperback at your local bookstore, from Amazon and B&N, and also on Kindle.
Eden was no fan of perfection. She swam in trivia, in the failures of the world. Her favorite music created by blues musicians from the 1920s who had never quite made it big, and who had died in obscurity, and her favorite television shows all canceled after only a few episodes ten years earlier. She read and re-read fifty-year-old books from defunct publishing houses, and she solicited type-written manuscripts from the survivors of deceased writers who had never found a venue for their work; she velobound these drafts and read them on the subway, or carried them into the park…. She recited passages out loud to Alice, breathlessly; she looked up every few moments and smiled a joyous smile of discovery.
The best movies, Eden always insisted, were all half-completed, things so daring and uncompromising that production had to be shut down for lack of financial backing. Eden bought bootleg videotapes of movies that were never finished. She had a substantial collection. She would watch these films alone in the dark, and she would imagine what each might have been, and sometimes she would cry.
— From In Love With Alice, by Alon Preiss
There is something so sad and moving about a brilliant, unfinished work.
Here are a few, which you can enjoy in an unfinished state and imagine what could have been:
In 1998, the acclaimed SF/fantasy author Elizabeth A. Lynn broke a long silence when Ace published this novel, an expansive and beautifully written saga about a shape-shifting warlord in a barbaric, medieval land, a book that, like all her books, contained spare, lyrical language and characters who were sexually flexible, to say the least. (Lynn is often described as writer who engages with gay themes, but her characters are not so much gay as they are highly adaptable.)
No less than George R.R. Martin hailed Lynn’s return, adding, “It’s been far too long since fantasy readers have had a new book by Elizabeth A. Lynn to savor. I hope we don’t have to wait as long for the next one.”
Lynn wrote a sequel, which ended on a cliff-hanger and cannily set up the series for a smashing finale.
Then … nothing. Till 2015, when she wrote, in a comment on Watt O’Hugh author Steven S. Drachman’s website, “[I am] indeed fine — but I do not think the rest of [the] story will ever be told. I regret it. I am delighted that you enjoyed Dragon’s Winter and Dragon’s Treasure.”
She is now a martial arts instructor in San Francisco, and a really great one. Her work is on YouTube. (Here, for example.)
A great masterwork of animation by Roger Rabbit animator Richard Williams, on which he labored for 30 years before, in rapid succession: 1) Warner Bros agreed to fund its completion, 2) Disney stole the whole idea and many of the characters and released Aladdin before Williams could finish his more ambitious film, 3) Warner Bros fired him and sold the movie to Miramax; 4) Miramax chopped the movie to pieces, threw away half of what Williams had completed, and paid a Korean animation studio to finish it on the cheap, and 5) the distributor dumped the film in theaters the last week of August under a different title.
Happily, an animator named Garrett Gilchrist (who also created the Chickadee Prince logo) pieced together what he could for an unofficial fan version and called it The Recobbled Cut; Gilchrist’s version includes the existing footage, the original soundtrack, tracings and storyboards, and which you can watch on the web. The excellent documentary, Persistence of Vision, by Kevin Schreck, provides a great introduction to Williams’ story.
Speaking of which: Gilchrist himself created a web-comic called The Chosen Ones, which was an alien-invasion story filled with satire, social commentary and great illustration. All of a sudden, the chapters stopped coming, with much of the story left untold. Now even the website has stopped functioning. Gilchrist, however, is still alive, and so there is always hope.
The Prophet’s Wife was Rabbi Milton Steinberg’s novel about a Biblical prophet and his prostitute wife. OK, it was kind of about a Biblical prophet and his prostitute wife. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a sexy page-turner! Especially considering that it was written by an Orthodox rabbi. But it also had great metaphoric power (or so they tell me) in its implications for the human race. The beautiful harlot’s betrayal of her husband (the Prophet Hosea) mirrors humanity’s descent into wickedness, our infidelity to our better nature (or, if you wish, our infidelity to God). So how the novel is to end is of great cosmic significance! If Hosea patches things up with the little lady, then humanity deserves to survive. If Hosea abandons her, then humanity deserves to be abandoned to a cold, empty and lifeless universe.
Steinberg, who ran the Zichron Ephraim synagogue in New York city after the death of founding rabbi Bernard Drachman, died in 1950, at the young age of 46, without finishing his book or ever indicating how he intended it to end. Various writers undertook the project at various times, but the essential question of the ending was too daunting.
Finally, just a few years ago, the gigantic tome was published as Steinberg had left it, and our fate still hangs in the balance. It is very strange, because the question that no one could answer is really just this: Is there any good left at all in Humankind, and do we deserve to live? One might hope the answer would have been Yes. Now we will never know.
A parallel universe story about a minor god who doesn’t want to be forgotten (and hence disappear), Noragami, an acclaimed and popular anime, made it to Season 2, ended on a cliffhanger, and then … what? Rumors and speculation about a new season have gone on for years. This is a show with good animation, compelling characters, beautiful music and a devoted fan base, and maybe there is hope.
Like Noragami, Outside is not obscure, but unlike Noragami, this brilliant, ambitious epic saga is destined for oblivion. Remember, this David Bowie/Brian Eno recording, the tale of a dystopian future world (1999!), was subtitled, The diary of Nathan Adler or the art-ritual murder of Baby Grace Blue: A non-linear Gothic Drama Hyper-cycle, and it was clearly hyped as merely the first chapter of a much longer story. Outside was a multi-media piece that included the recorded songs along with a written book, packaged with the CD.
Bowie promised that a new record would be produced every year till the Millennium, when an elaborate concert would tie the whole thing up. Nothing came of it till 2015, when Eno and Bowie discussed finally finishing the tale. Unfortunately, Bowie died in early 2016, and that was that.
The Button: Book I of II, by Vlad Vaslyn, is an exciting modern fantasy/horror novel, and those of us who love it have been waiting many years for Book II. The author promises to finish this. Let’s hold him to it.
***
Oblivioni is a blog about “Obscure or Overlooked Books, Movies, People, Television, Artwork and Whatever.” Read more here.
Featured image by Aaron Burden/Unsplash.
I thought about this show for the first time in many years when I woke up one recent Saturday morning with its catchy, catchy theme song pounding through my head. I just couldn’t shake it, but I also could not name it. By Saturday night, it had gotten completely out of control. And then it struck me. Could it be that the tune in my head was The Eddie Capra Mysteries theme song? Indeed it was, that beautiful theme song, by the inescapable 1970s composer John Cacavas, which I had not heard since 1978 (forty-one years ago!), when the show ran for 13 brief episodes. It was one of my very favorites, back then, when I was 13.
And there was more good news. While Eddie does not stream on Hulu, Amazon, Netflix or anywhere else, and it is unavailable on DVD, Blu-Ray and video, YouTube does indeed have one grainy episode viewable in its entirety.
Does it hold up?
It does indeed.
Eddie Capra, played by Vincent Baggetta, is a California defense lawyer, who finds his real calling as an investigator. The available episode, Murder on the Flip Side, which was nominated for an Edgar Allen Poe award in 1978, involves the murder of a ruthless record executive. The plot is appropriately labyrinthine, the moments of suspense are genuinely suspenseful, and the solution to the mystery is diabolical, hilarious and well-earned.
The episode features 1970s names like pop singer Rick Springfield (as a pop singer), and older names like 1960s jazz singer Mel Carter (as a 1960s jazz singer). Dick Haymes appears wearing a really unfortunate turtleneck, and Vicki Lawrence, who was a member of Carol Burnett’s ensemble at the time, rounds out the cast as the #1 suspect. Springfield is not great, and Springfield had some unfairly nasty things to say years later. But the rest of the cast is strong, including Wendy Phillips, who plays Capra’s romantic interest, and who later acted with Warren Beatty in Bugsy.
And Baggetta is perfect. He doesn’t wink, exactly. He’s fully committed to his street-smart character, but he’s having fun a little bit above-the-fray. Baggetta portrays Eddie Capra as a guy who just loves being the star of a mystery detective show, a witty and subtle performance that may not have been fully recognized at the time.
A great show. You should watch it.
Steven S. Drachman is the author of Watt O’Hugh and the Innocent Dead, which will be published by Chickadee Prince Books on September 1, 2019; it is available for pre-order in trade paperback from your favorite local independent bookstore, from Amazon and Barnes and Noble, and on Kindle.
“Obamacare” is the less than respectful term attributed to our current healthcare program, and the program is, as suggested by its detractors, fundamentally flawed.
Designed to assist low-income families and to provide them credible medical insurance, this is the reality of that program. Let’s say a family of four has an annual income of perhaps twenty-two thousand dollars and they call the Marketplace to inquire about medical insurance. Great news, they are told. There is (hypothetically) a Blue Cross/Blue Shield plan, or a plan by another provider, available for those residing in their zip code, and the premium for that family of four is normally $1,050.00 per month. Clearly unaffordable, but, and here’s the big part, the family qualifies for a premium tax credit in the amount of $1,025.00 per month.
So the federal government pays Blue Cross that $1,025.00 each month, and the newly-
Yes and no are the complex answers to that question. On paper, the family has insurance, and Blue Cross has furnished the family members little ID cards. So, in theory and in actuality, we can attest to the fact that this family has medical insurance. But from a practical point of view, they do not, because they will only use that insurance sparingly, if at all. Policies such as this one carry a staggeringly high out-of-pocket maximum annual expense, usually in the range of $7,000.00, and that’s the amount this family must first expend, before Blue Cross, in this example, begins to pay medical bills at the rate of 100% coverage.
An immense $7,000.00 per year in additional expenses faces this particular family with an income structure (before taxes) of $22,000.00 per year, and the net result is this. The members of this family technically have insurance, but they cannot possibly afford to utilize their medical care plan.
And that’s why the Affordable Care Act is a poorly designed program, and it needs to be completely overhauled.
Medicare for all? Socialized medicine as those programs now exist in Great Britain and in Canada? Perhaps that’s the cure. Certainly, the ill-constructed alternative that the Republicans attempted to pass is not a viable alternative, in my opinion. I might easily support a form of socialized medicine or less-expensive Medicare-For-All in this nation, and I agree that a prosperous nation of our stature should be able to create a healthcare system for its citizens that is a plan to which other nations aspire.
But this article is about the pendulum of government, as it dangerously swings, in our case, from the right to the left. I sense a movement in this nation. Allow the pendulum to move a bit to the left, and we achieve a system of socialized medicine and benefits for all, assuming we can work out the bugs. The smart thing would be to hire some Canadians and Brits as consultants, but we’re far too pig-headed to do something logical in ego-maniacal Washington, D.C.
And in the dangerous waters to the more left of center as the pendulum continues its course, we have universal socialism as a new form of government in this nation. That’s what Bernie Sanders advocates, and according to an article published within the past few days in the Daily Signal and written by Lee Edwards,
“A new Gallup poll confirms what other surveys have reported: A disturbingly high percentage of Americans, about 4 in 10, now look favorably on socialism. Forty-seven percent of Americans even say they would vote for a socialist candidate for president.”
Our nation is a Republic conceived by men whose thought processes are not ancient, nor is the wisdom of their creation to be carelessly discarded. “Everyone is equal” and “everyone is to be treated equally” are the rallying cries of mediocrity. And those words are the foundation of socialism. At first, to take offense at those statements will turn heads. “How can you believe it is unacceptable to support ‘everyone is equal’ or ‘everyone is to be treated equally?’” is the challenge before us. There’s such a subtle difference here, and it’s easy to miss.
The second paragraph of the United States Declaration of Independence states, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed …”
From those great words has evolved a radical misconception. Self-evident truths, among them that “all men are created equal,” in particular. Abraham Lincoln clearly understood what Jefferson meant, when he wrote those everlasting words. Lincoln correctly decided slavery was an abomination, and in the bloody conflict that followed, Jeffersonian doctrine prevailed.
Those words are about the right to have opportunities. “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness, at its core, means the right to live, the right to grow, the right to learn, the right to work, the right to achieve, the right to excel, the right to pray or not to do so, the right to prosper, the right to provide for your family, and the right to keep that which you have earned. “All men are created equal” in this great nation means that we each have the right to begin that path, as your personal journey toward greatness, as I’ve just outlined. And as an entrenched conservative and patriot, I am honor-bound to protect your right to take that path. It is my duty to fight and give my life, should that be necessary, to protect your right to walk with me in that belief or to think otherwise and to disagree with anything I state or believe in this or any article I’ve written.
Socialism purportedly treats everyone equally, but it requires that the government take control in a stifling system that encourages mediocrity. And that was not what our Founding Fathers had in mind when they made statements about equality.
Imagine a huge welfare state, where all your personal and familial needs are provided for, by the government. What does your nature become? Do you remain driven to excel and to succeed? Do you strive to keep your creative juices alive? Do you have any reason to look at a situation or an object and mold it into something better, or to proclaim a thing outdated by virtue of that which you have invented? Do you maintain your sense of humanity, or do you become robotic and immune to all sensory input? Can you still value things, achievements, education, if you and others in our society are given everything as equals by a government monolith? That is the glimpse into the future, as suggested by the Gallup poll described in this article.
As a tiny glimpse into a socialistic state, attend a little league post-season party or a swim meet where everyone is merely given a “participant” medal or trophy. The kid who lapped the field in the 100 meter butterfly is given the same level of recognition as the kid who finally just climbed out of the water, and the kid who was 0 for 70 at the plate with 68 dismal strike-outs is given the same award as the kid who went 70 for 82 with 182 RBIs. I get giving kids something that signifies their determination, their stubbornness to be there and to compete, b
\ut don’t cross the line and rob the great ones of their achievements. And the silliest image I can muster is at the Olympic Games, in which a socialistic world gives all the participants in each event the same cheap medal. Certainly no need for podiums and flags, or judges and scorecards.
When I read that nearly half our citizens might easily vote for a socialist candidate for president of this nation, I felt compelled to write something. In a socialist state, the only true equality is that citizens have no rights at all, and in that lone regard, we are equals. Dissension is frowned upon, either politely or impolitely, and in the latter form of governmental concern with a particular citizen, there are imprisonments and executions. Your right to work and grow within our current form of government, a Republic, is something that is sacred. Do not allow the pendulum of power to swing too far to the left, for one day, in the quiet of your kitchen, you might whisper to someone you love, “How did this all occur?”
And whispering will be necessary.

But Levy, who also writes a lively blog over at The Times of Israel, has chosen to devote his latest column to dire warnings about the rising popularity in America of “socialism.” And regrettably, he mischaracterizes today’s moment.
In Communist parlance, it is the stage before full Communism, and does indeed advocate state ownership of all the means of production.
In the parlance of the American conservative, it is anything that the conservative wants to prevent, an all-purpose insult. So, for example, the conservative promises to protect Social Security and Medicare, which are broadly popular.
The conservative hears about Warren Buffett’s call for the rich to stop paying a lower tax rate than the poor, on the other hand, and calls Buffett, one of America’s most successful capitalists, a “socialist.”
When a CEO of a privately owned company chooses to increase everyone’s pay, American conservative Rush Limbaugh calls that “socialism,” as though a CEO in America should not have a perfect right to pay his employees whatever he wants Obama is a “socialist,” because he is a member of the Democratic Party.
To conservatives, socialism has become a broad brush to tar anyone who advocated economic fairness. Because economic fairness, while good for America overall, and especially the American economy, is not particularly beneficial to America’s ruling class.
America’s young, so battered by America’s winner-take-all society, hears the “socialism” label that conservatives use to fight any effort to narrow the economic divide in America, and they think, Socialism doesn’t sound so bad. Toss the word “Democratic” in front of the word “Socialism” and it sounds even better.
When Bernie Sanders talks about democratic socialism — and, really, everyone who talks about socialism in America today means the democratic kind — his action plan includes proposals to improve health care, the tax system and education, things that have worked well elsewhere, things that young people in America want.
Indeed, nowhere in the entire column does Levy find fault with any actual policy advocated by Sanders or favored by America’s youth. Instead, he seems to object to the word “socialist,” and attributes various horribles to the word.
He is alarmed that this word, so recklessly bandied about for so many years by Fox News propagandists, has lost its ability to terrorize Americans, and he has imagined, out of thin air, some kind of awful future that will now inevitably result, an argument that is as ridiculous as it is fact-free.
Because what they want is not at all bad.
But instead, Levy conjures some kind of horrible science fiction horror movie, in which Democratic Socialism turns everyone into robots, which bears no resemblance to any sort of reality. He then spends an entire column knocking down a straw man that exists only in his own mind.
Ironically, Levy begins his column by acknowledging that “I might easily support a form of socialized medicine or less-expensive Medicare-For-All in this nation, and I agree that a prosperous nation of our stature should be able to create a healthcare system for its citizens that is a plan to which other nations aspire,” which is, after all, what our young socialists are asking for today. “Medicare for all?” he muses. “Socialized medicine as those programs now exist in Great Britain and in Canada? Perhaps that’s the cure.”
After all, he is, like me, an oldish man, and for Alan and me, what’s not to like about socialized medicine? Presumably, he also likes “Social” Security.
But then he adds, “[I]n the dangerous waters to the more left of center as the pendulum continues its course, we have universal socialism as a new form of government in this nation. That’s what Bernie Sanders advocates[.]”
Let’s begin by stating, again, that Bernie Sanders wants Democratic Socialism, and that only his opponents on the right talk about “universal socialism,” something they made up to hurt him. And this idea of a “new form of government in this nation” is also not something that Sanders advocates. Sanders and the new young American socialists are quite happy with the Constitution.
“ ‘Everyone is equal’ and ‘everyone is to be treated equally’ are the rallying cries of mediocrity,” Levy tells us. “And those words are the foundation of socialism.”
While he puts those words in quotes, and attributes them to socialism, he doesn’t actually name any socialists who have said those words. And then, well, um, er, actually, as he admits in the next breath, those words are the foundation of American democracy. (No less a conservative figure than Paul Ryan, after all, said, in his speech to the 2016 Republican convention that nominated Donald Trump, “Everyone is equal, everyone has a place.”)
So Levy has to spend a few paragraphs explaining that, while those words are actually the foundation of American democracy, Thomas Jefferson, who said them, didn’t really mean them, and the socialists, who didn’t say them, do mean them.
And, clearly, Levy is just wrong: social democrats do not want to treat everyone equally regardless of need or ability.
If my friend Alan Levy needs arthritis medication, but he cannot afford it, a socialist would say that the government ensure that he gets it. If Levy has a granddaughter who does not have arthritis, the government would not give her arthritis medication.
“Imagine a huge welfare state,” Levy then grouses, “where all your personal and familial needs are provided for, by the government. What does your nature become? Do you remain driven to excel and to succeed? Do you strive to keep your creative juices alive? Do you have any reason to look at a situation or an object and mold it into something better, or to proclaim a thing outdated by virtue of that which you have invented? Do you maintain your sense of humanity, or do you become robotic and immune to all sensory input? Can you still value things, achievements, education, if you and others in our society are given everything as equals by a government monolith? That is the glimpse into the future, as suggested by the Gallup poll described in this article.”
Really? It’s self-evident to Levy that government help discourages innovation and ambition (and worse, makes everyone into a robot who is [WOW!] “immune to all sensory input”), when in fact the opposite is true.
Alan, my friend, that “huge welfare state” that you think would turn us into robots, is a nation in which citizens do not need to worry about how to pay for health care or education, in which its citizens can seek to excel and to succeed.
Worrying about health insurance has never encouraged anyone to achieve excellence.
Now imagine a huge capitalist society, run by gigantic corporations, in which the children of the poor know that, no matter how hard they work, they will never be able to afford the good college that the rich see as their birthright; do the children of the poor remain driven to excel and to succeed?
Imagine a world in which you, Alan, need a job to maintain health coverage for you and your family.
It’s not so hard to imagine, is it? It is today’s America. Would you have any incentive to leave that job to start your own business? If you knew that if you were to start your business, and it failed, there would be no government support to help you get yourself back on your feet. Would you take the risk?
Imagine a child who could be a great cellist. Should she pursue a career in music, or would she instead take a job at an insurance company, for the regular paycheck, the health benefits?
But still, Levy wants a universal capitalism of gigantic corporations that are too big to fail, in which access to education and health care is only for the wealthy, because it would discourage mediocrity, somehow.
This is the conservative’s idea of “freedom,” and a conservative’s “freedom” is the true rallying cry of mediocrity. Isn’t the America of Donald Trump Jr. a nation in which the mediocre rule?
Alan? Is up down? Is down up?
Levy then argues that “a socialistic state,” like that imagined by Sanders and the young of America, is like “a little league post-season party or a swim meet where everyone is merely given a ‘participant’ medal or trophy.”
When socialist nations hold trials to qualify athletes for the Olympic games, he complains, “all the participants in each event [receive] the same cheap medal. Certainly no need for podiums and flags, or judges and scorecards.”
This is just not true.
Look, I think Levy and I will agree that the Soviet Union was no one’s idea of a worker’s paradise.
But Levy sees the USSR as a nation that failed to yield successful Olympic athletes, a claim that is simply factually untrue.
In fact, the USSR was a highly unsuccessful nation overall that nevertheless achieved massive success at the Olympics, as did many nations in the Communist bloc.
The USSR did have glimmers of success from which the capitalist nations or mixed-economy nations can learn, and one of them was its ability to find the best athletes across a vast nation.
When the USSR granted access to its athletics programs based solely on ability and excellence, it achieved greatness.
And this is an important point: a nation that grants access to the best universities based on ability, rather than ability to pay, is a nation that cherishes personal excellence, not a nation that encourages mediocrity.
Nevertheless, Levy argues, in his final paragraph, if we follow today’s young Americans down the road to what they are not afraid to call “socialism,” a world of affordable education and healthcare, of progressive taxation and a livable working wage — if we pursue the policies of self-described “Socialists” like former British prime minister Tony Blair — we will find ourselves, like the English did when they lived under Blair’s rule, in a world in which “the only true equality is that citizens have no rights at all, and in that lone regard, we are equals. Dissension is frowned upon, either politely or impolitely, and in the latter form of governmental concern with a particular citizen, there are imprisonments and executions … [O]ne day, in the quiet of your kitchen, you might whisper to someone you love, ‘How did this all occur?’ And whispering will be necessary.”
What specific policy does he think will lead us there? He doesn’t say. I can only dream of an America in which one could engage in a reasonable debate with our fellow citizens. It would be a better America.

Bravo, Alon. This is the kind of stuff that makes our nation great. You think, you write. I think, I write, and only in a remarkably free society are we granted the power to publicly disagree. We both cherish that right, I often refer to the U.S. Constitution as the sacred document that it is, and I write to protect it and the foundations of this Republic.
Let me address your commentary by first quoting an article written by John Stossel on January 1st, 2019. I hope we can get by the fact that Mr. Stossel is a contributor to Fox News, primarily since he immediately begins to quote a reputable Swedish historian.
For years, I’ve heard American leftists say Sweden is proof that socialism works, that it doesn’t have to turn out as badly as the Soviet Union or Cuba or Venezuela did.
But that’s not what Swedish historian Johan Norberg says in a new documentary and TV video. ‘Sweden is not socialist—because the government doesn’t own the means of production. To see that, you have to go to Venezuela or Cuba or North Korea,’ says Norberg.
We did have a period in the 1970s and 1980s when we had something that resembled socialism: a big government that taxed and spent heavily. And that’s the period in Swedish history when our economy was going south. Per capita GDP fell. Sweden’s growth fell behind other countries. Inflation increased. Even socialistic Swedes complained about the high taxes.
Astrid Lindgren, author of the popular Pippi Longstocking children’s books, discovered that she was losing money by being popular. She had to pay a tax of 102 percent on any new book she sold.
She wrote this angry essay about a witch who was mean and vicious—but not as vicious as the Swedish tax authorities, says Norberg.
Yet even those high taxes did not bring in enough money to fund Sweden’s big welfare state.
’People couldn’t get the pension that they thought they depended on for the future,’ recounts Norberg. ‘At that point the Swedish population just said, enough, we can’t do this.’
Sweden then reduced government’s role.
They cut public spending, privatized the national rail network, abolished certain government monopolies, eliminated inheritance taxes, and sold state-owned businesses like the maker of Absolut vodka.
’They also reduced pension promises ‘so that it wasn’t as unsustainable,’ adds Norberg. ’Today our taxes pay for pensions—you (in the U.S.) call it Social Security—for 18-month paid parental leave, government-paid childcare for working families.’
But Sweden’s government doesn’t run all those programs. ‘Having the government manage all of these things didn’t work well.’
So they privatized. ‘We realized in Sweden that with these government monopolies, we don’t get the innovation that we get when we have competition,’ says Norberg.
Sweden also partially privatized its retirement system. In America, the Cato Institute proposed something similar. President George W. Bush supported the idea but didn’t explain it well. He dropped the idea when politicians complained that privatizing Social Security scared voters.
Swedes were frightened by the idea at first, too, says Norberg, ‘But when they realized that the alternative was that the whole pension system would collapse, they thought that this was much better than doing nothing.’
So Sweden supports its welfare state with private pensions, school choice, and fewer regulations, and in international economic-freedom comparisons, Sweden often earns a higher ranking than the U.S.
Next time you hear democratic socialists talk about how socialist Sweden is, remind them that the big welfare state is funded by Swedes’ free market practices, not their socialist ones.
So if Sweden is an improper example of a true Socialist state, by definition, then which nations are successful and prosperous Socialist nations?
Let’s skip the Communist nations, and per Wikipedia, here is a current list of non-Marxist-Leninist Socialist States.
The People’s Republic of Bangladesh
The Co-operative Republic of Guyana
The Republic of India
North Korea
The Federal Democratic Republic of Nepal
The Republic of Nigeria
The Portuguese Republic
The Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka
The United Republic of Tanzania.
Of these Socialist nations, all are “multi-party semi-presidential republics,” with the exception of just one of these nations.
The Preamble to the constitution of that nation states, “The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea is the socialist motherland of Juche, which has applied the idea and leadership of Kim Il-sung,” and that nation declares itself a “Unitary One-Party Republic.”
North Korea.
Am I suggesting that if we evolve into a one-party nation with a Socialist mentality, we may mirror the horrific form of government entrenched in North Korea? No, I am certainly not convinced we may be headed down that path. On the other hand, to ignore the parallels is infantile.
While Alon and I are debating the merits of a Socialist society or allowing ourselves to overindulge at the Socialist buffet … “I’ll have a little Health Care with lemon-butter sauce, and a chunk of Tax Reform marinara,” the real concern, admittedly not addressed in my article, is a clearly defined plot to reshape elections of the future by virtue of granting the right to vote to an additional body of new voters.
Alon, you wrote, ”Equality, to a socialist, means equal rights and equal access, according to need, regardless of race or economic means.”
I wrote, ““the only true equality is that citizens have no rights at all, and in that lone regard, we are equals. Dissension is frowned upon, either politely or impolitely, and in the latter form of governmental concern with a particular citizen, there are imprisonments and executions … One day, in the quiet of your kitchen, you might whisper to someone you love, ‘How did this all occur?’ And whispering will be necessary.”
You wrote, “Of course, none of this is true.”
Isn’t it ironic that if (a) the Democrats have a formula to seize power in this nation by giving the right to vote to millions of illegal aliens, and (b) absolute power corrupts as Lord Acton so correctly observed, then there is only one nation which we can study to observe the aftermath of the events I fear may take place in this nation.
And that nation, as I’ve mentioned, is North Korea.
It’s easy to dismiss my concerns about where this nation may be headed. You can wave a hand of dismissal at me and walk away, shaking your head in disbelief.
But let me remind you that’s what millions of Jews did as they were loaded into cattle cars and embarked on their journeys to Auschwitz and Buchenwald.
And by the way, you misquoted me.
You claimed I said, “When socialist nations hold trials to qualify athletes for the Olympic Games, he complains, ‘all the participants in each event [receive] the same cheap medal. Certainly no need for podiums and flags, or judges and scorecards.’”
Of course, the Soviet Union achieved greatness and won medals. Not at all what I said or meant, and I might add that their lack of ethics in competing were hardly admirable.
I actually stated, “And the silliest image I can muster is at the Olympic Games, in which a socialistic world gives all the participants in each event the same cheap medal. Certainly no need for podiums and flags, or judges and scorecards.” That was my way of taking issue with treating all participants as equals and having the concept of competition be meaningless.
In summary, debate between us is very healthy. You are entitled to pick at sentences and disagree with me. But the message I’m attempting to convey is this. Give someone or a coterie the scepter of power, and anything can happen. The remainder of the quote by Lord Acton concerning absolute power is this.
“Great men are almost always bad men, even when they exercise influence and not authority; still more when you superadd the tendency of the certainty of corruption by authority.”
We are in dangerous waters here, and the first murky step will be to elect a Socialist President of the United States.
Alan, you are a really cool writer, but you spend too much time in front of Fox News.
Here is my point: for years, every time some earnest Democrat would propose some reasonable legislation that might actually help poor people, conservative propagandists would label him a “socialist.” So, as I noted in my rebuttal, a CEO who raised the salaries of his workers was a socialist; Warren Buffett, of all people, was a socialist, because he thought his secretary shouldn’t pay a higher tax rate than he paid. (In the feverish conservative mind, taxing the poor is “capitalism”; taxing the rich is “socialism.”) Obamacare, a thoughtful attempt to use capitalism to provide health care to all Americans, was labeled “socialism.” Free college? Socialism! Clean energy? Socialism.
What has happened, perhaps inevitably, is that the young have listened to your political party. Suddenly, they believe that everything they want is in fact socialism.
The result? That poll, which has frightened you so much, showing that the slur has lost its teeth.
I ask you again: tell me what, if anything, is objectionable about the New Socialism.
It’s a simple request. Engage with our ideas, without hysteria.
Don’t talk about North Korea. Don’t scream about Nazis.
Look at our plan for the American economy and let me know what you think about our actual proposals.
Listen to Bernie Sanders.
“The right to quality health care,” he says, in today’s New York Times. “The right to as much education as one needs to succeed in our society, the right to a good job that pays a living wage, the right to affordable housing, the right to a secure retirement, and the right to live in a clean environment. That is what I mean by democratic socialism.”
Now, is that really “democratic socialism”?
Arguably, it’s not.
Sanders, and the young American Socialists, don’t even believe in nationalizing industry. This is the inevitable result of the conservative campaign to vilify sensible progressive policies. The word “socialist” has lost its bite.
In my rebuttal to your column, I asked you to consider Sanders’ policies specifically, and let me know what you disagreed with. I pleaded with you to engage with me in a sensible debate about America’s new socialism, about the policies favored by America’s new socialists.
Instead, you’ve responded with … um, the exact opposite.
First, a list of what you consider frightening countries, something you say you pulled from Wikipedia. You know, good work mastering the internet, I guess.
North Korea, you pant. The Republic of Nigeria.
Then a story from propagandist John Stossel about something or other than went on in Sweden, which has precisely nothing to do with anything.
And finally, you throw this in my face:
“You can wave a hand of dismissal at me and walk away, shaking your head in disbelief. But let me remind you that’s what millions of Jews did as they were loaded into cattle cars and embarked on their journeys to Auschwitz and Buchenwald.”
Is that what Hitler was all about? Free education, decent healthcare and clean air?
Yes, I want decent air for my grandkids, good education for the poor.
I think decent education, regardless of ability to pay, would be good for America.
Alan, you are a smart guy.
You wrote one of the best books of 2019.
You have been a brave voice against Iranian appeasement.
You want socialized medicine.
You believe in free education.
I am not sure, but I think you probably even like clean air, and as a resident of Florida, you probably would prefer that the ocean stop rising.
Step out of the Fox News opium haze and into the light. I know that you’ll be happy here.
Alan N. Levy, a political columnist at Audere, is also the author of The Tenth Plague, an acclaimed geo-political thriller that focuses on a future with a nuclear-armed Iran, coming in September from Chickadee Prince Books. He’s now also a blogger at The Times of Israel, addressing the various terrible threats facing America, Israel and the world. Take a look at all of Levy’s opinionated opinions at the TOI.
Alon Preiss is the author of A Flash of Blue Sky (2015) and In Love With Alice (2017), which are both available from Chickadee Prince Books.