An English Department on Fallar Discordia
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All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia. — Orwell
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The idea of gathering information from the Administration was conceived years ago by Knifestream, the most ruthless of the Demon Priests of the Black Horde.
Each time Knifestream passed on a crucial piece of information to his fellow Demon Priests, his red eyes burnished a shade darker. The other Priests nodded their ebony hoods in agreement, and assured him that one day he would benefit ten-fold from all his hard work.
Secretly, the other Demon Priests intended to benefit twenty-fold, and were happy to let Knifestream do the heavy lifting. Let him spend all that time wading through terrabins of data about pedagogic super-clusters and intergalactic voids. It’ll keep him busy, Gascitar signaled to his ally Kaldriscat. Knifestream’s diligence allowed them time to mine the hallways with microscopic mirror-devices, tiny slivers that reflect information through the darkest of dark matter directly to their hidden stations.
It should be noted that Knifestream hoarded every tenth bit of valuable information. He hoarded the most crucial pieces — the discs that deciphered all the other pieces. Knifestream was just making sure that when the time comes, he’d be holding all the chips.
It should also be noted that Gascitar and Kaldriscat knew about the discs that Knifestream believed he was hiding from them. He was always a crude bumbler, that Knifestream! they nodded to each other, making sure that no one saw their shoulders jiggle with laughter beneath their black cloaks. The same tiny slivers they used to mine the voids were embedded into the fabric of Knifestream’s hood — except that these slivers were even smaller, undetectable to the sanctioned laboratories of Fallar Discordia.
Several years previous, Knifestream suffered from a rare form of ear fungus, which Gascitar found in the trenches of Rabixia Fallix. The only hood fabric that gave his ears any relief was gifted to him with great ceremony by Kaldriscat.
They must really think I’m an idiot, Knifestream thought to himself. Darkest of dark matter! My third crawler!
Knifestream had made a deal with the sworn enemy of all Fallarians: the real world. In exchange for several species of angströminic ants (that could be used to make immigrants work harder), he received valuable information about how to reflect data from just beyond the edges of the darkest of dark matter.
All I need to do is scratch my ears every week or two and the idiots think they’ve outmaneuvered me!
It should be noted further that Gascitar and Kaldriscat…
They’re a dreadful lot, those Demon Priests.
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♦️ Short Fiction ♦️ Poetry ♦️ Politics