What will Bong and Symphy find at the encrypted coordinates they received?
On the previous episode of James Bong.....
The anarcho-fiction writer B. Light was gunned down in front of Bong. His final words "C.A. Salt" led to a set of coordinates in the middle of the Pacific.
Episode 25
Scene 1
Bong, K, Miss Moneybit, and Symphy are in a makeshift airfield just a ways from K’s place in Acapulco. Bong and Symphy are about to take off for the designated coordinates in the Pacific between Baja and Hawaii in a 3d-printed SeaPlane.
Bong (eyeing vessel skeptically): This is the best you could do, K?
K: I know, it’s not much to look at, but it was the best I could do on short notice.
Symphy: I estimate the chances of this vessel performing it’s necessary functions to be just over 80 percent.
Bong: How comforting.
Miss Moneybit: And Symphy’s gonna be at the controls, right?
Bong does sour milk face.
Moneybit: What, Bong? Have you handled one of these before?
Bong groans.
K: Oh, put your ego down and relax, buddy!
Bong: All right, Symphy. Let’s head out.
Moneybit: Wait! Something just dawned on me!
Bong (sarcastic): Congrats.
Moneybit: What if this whole thing is a set up? A trap?
K: I think you’re assuming statist players to be much more clever than they actually are.
Bong: Easy for you to say, K. You’re not the one risking your neck in the possible trap.
Moneybit: And what if it is?
Bong (sarcastic): Then Symphy will have to use her A.I. superpowers to save us.
Bong and Symphy squeeze into tiny front seats. Her hands fly over the control deck and the plane sputters off into the sky.
Scene 2
The SeaPlane approaches the designated coordinates in the Pacific Ocean.
Bong: All I see is a small sailboat.
Symphy: I see much more than that due to my enhanced visual capabilities.
Bong: I meant that there’s only one vessel for us to meet people on.
Symphy: Curious. Why do you assume we are looking for people? Or vessels for that matter?
Bong (grinding teeth): Just land this piece of work, will you?
Symphy brings the craft down smoothly and anchors next to a modest sailboat. A petite young woman approaches.
Woman: Welcome to the SeAgora!
Bong (perplexed): I’m sorry, did I miss something?
Symphy: Are you C.A. Salt?
Woman (guffaws heartily): C.A. Salt? It’s not a person or a place, or something that can be summed up with a tidy little bow on it.
Bong: Is this a riddle? I loathe riddles.
Woman (amused): What an odd thing to loathe. Anyway, no more loathing. It’s time to get down to business. And the first order of business is a fantastic surprise!
Bong: Surprises irk me almost as much as riddles.
Woman (calling below deck): Come on out!
A familiar male face with a wide grin pops out and greets the group.
Male: Surprise! Good to see you again, Mr. Bong! And Symphy, this is my first time meeting a humanoid A.I.! I’m delighted! (extends hand, Symphy shakes hard)
Male: Quite a grip you’ve got there! (turns to Bong) Don’t arm wrestle her anytime soon, chap!
Bong stands with befuddled look on face.
Male: Well, don’t just stand there, Mr. Bong! Say something!
Bong: Nice to see you again, B. Light, or whatever your name is. Would you mind telling me how you survived multiple gunshot wounds and a non-existent pulse?
B. Light (friendly slap to Bong’s arm): That’s easy! I didn’t!
Bong: But I saw it myself. I was there.
B. Light: Yes, it’s called a faked death. Coming from your checkered MI6 past, I’m sure you’re no stranger to such concepts. I suppose you’re wondering how and why?
Bong folds arms and narrows eyes.
B. Light: I’ll take that as a resounding yes! So those weren’t bullets. They were tranquilizer darts made to look like bullets. They also contained a chemical that kept me alive, but made my vitals appear to be zero. Kind of like cryogenic freezing, but much more advanced and much cooler. Pun not intended.
Symphy: I would be fascinated to examine this chemical.
Bong: And the blood?
B. Light: Old hollywood trick. Come on Bong, are you losing your edge?
Bong: I would be fascinated to know why you faked your own death. And who fired the shots? And how the hell did you get the lamestream media to pronounce you dead?
B. Light: Now Bong, while I admire your curiosity, I’m afraid that some details must remain secret.
Bong: Fair enough. So why am I in the middle of the Pacific Ocean?
Woman: Because you flew here in a plane and landed.
Bong gives disapproving stare.
Woman: So let me explain……
Scene 3
General Small is in his CIA office, on a holo-call with Sir Hugo Trax.
Trax: Give me some good news, Small.
There’s a knock on Small’s door.
Small: Come in!
A delivery drone pops in and starts dropping off a large order of junk food.
Small: There’s some good news! Anyway, Trax, it’s confirmed. B. Light is dead. Not only that, but I’ve got a suggestion to finally eliminate Bong.
Trax (furious): Not in front of the drone! This is highly classified!
Small (nonchalant): Ah, you worry too much. It’s just a simple delivery drone.
Trax facepalms. Drone leaves.
Trax: Anyway, what’s your idea?
Small: I say we use the experimental, space-based death ray that can target individuals.
Trax: The key word here is experimental.
Small: Sure, there’s always a chance of killing the wrong guy, but since when has that stopped us?
Trax: I hate to say it, but you have a valid point there.
Small: Besides, we’ve been throwing boatloads of money at this project for decades, so it’s about time we got something out of it other than a few payoffs.
Trax: Payoffs?
Small: Oooo, did I say that out loud?...Anyway, is it a go, sir?
Trax: I suppose, but I know nothing, is that clear?
Small: The fact that you know nothing is abundantly clear, sir.
Trax (miffed): Right….well, keep me posted.
Click.
Small grabs donut and starts munching.
Small: Computer, call Major Botch.
Holo-phone rings. Bug-eyed guy in uniform answers.
Small: Botch, General Small here.
Botch: Yes, sir.
Small: Project Sky Smoker has it’s first real field test.
Botch: Uh, are you sure about that?
Small: Sure, why not?
Botch: Well….it’s still being tested.
Small: Has been for 20 years! Time to see what that huge money pit can do!
Botch: Ok, if you insist. Go ahead and send me the target info.
Scene 4
Back in the middle of the Pacific….
Woman: So this is my boat, the first one in the SeAgora. The idea is to have a decentralized, voluntary, seasteading community, or agora, if you will. All the technology is there to make this happen! 3D printing, portable water desalinizers, aquaculture, solar.
Symphy: Intriguing.
B. Light (excited): Isn’t it, though!?
Bong: So where do we come in? And why all the secrecy?
B. Light: Well, we’re kind of hoping that you and your crew would promote this project. And possibly, if you’re interested, fund, join, and help create it.
Woman: The secrecy is for obvious reasons.
Symphy: It seems to not have been obvious to Mr. Bong.
Bong (grimacing): Thank you, Symphy.
Woman: Well, we’re doing our best to hide it from the state.
Bong: Now I know you’re off your rocker.
Woman: Ok, it won’t work forever, but in the initial stages I think it’s possible to keep it secret.
Symphy: How can it be promoted and kept secret simultaneously?
B. Light: It'll start out with just people, voluntaryists, that we know and trust. It'll be by word of mouth, for the most part. But we were also thinking that Miss Moneybit could use the "C.A. Salt" code word in her publications. Symphy, you and K could help provide some layers of technological tricks and layers of protection in the promotional communications.
Woman: It would be kind of like an extremely ambitious and high-tech version of a speakeasy from the 20s. OH, and also, those who don't want to use names, like me, can do so, of course. Oh, and we can....
Bong holds up hand.
Bong: Please, while I admire your goals, I think it's quite far fetched. Count me out, for now, anyway.
Symphy: Count me in.
Bong (shocked): Really?
Symphy: In the past minute, I've war gamed the success probabilities of this project, and there is a 30 percent chance of success.
Bong: Those are horrible odds.
Symphy: You didn't let me finish. 30 percent without my help, and 49 percent with my help.
Scene 5
The next day, General Small is munching on some chips at his desk while calling Sir Hugo Trax.
Trax: Yes, General?
Small: Got another good news, bad news scenario for ya.
Trax (facepalm): Good news first.
Small: The space-based weaponry works.
Trax: And the bad?
Small: The targeting is way off.
Trax: How far off?
Small: Oh, a few thousand.
Trax: Feet?
Small: Miles, sir.
Trax: What?!
Small (munching, casual): Not only that, but the scaling is off. Instead of one individual, we accidentally vaporized a small town.
Trax: Where?
Small: New Mexico.
Trax (enraged): Get this covered up immediately, Small! And this call never happened!
Click.
Small (muttering to himself): Why do I have to do everything? Computer, call Det Turner.
A wrinkled old face appears above Small’s desk.
Wrinkled Face (regretful): Oh, why did I take this call? What do you want, General Small?
Small: Det Turner, always a pleasure. I’ve got a little boo-boo that needs fixing.
Det Turner: Well, why didn’t you just call one of the managers at BNN?
Small: Normally I would, but, well, ya see….
Det Turner: Just spit it out, Small! I’m a very busy man! I’ve got a eugenics meeting in an hour!
Small: Well, we accidentally vaporized a small town from space.
Det Turner: I didn’t know that we had small towns in space.
Small: No, no, we don’t. I mean the weapon is in space.
Det Turner: I see. So what outrageous cover story do you have in mind?
Small: Oh, let’s see, off the top of my head….how about an Alliance of Russian-Muslim-Bitcoin-Anarchist-Skinhead-Hackers, led by James Bong? It can be a new terrorist group, with one hell of an acronym! ARMBASH! Rolls right off the tongue, right? I thought of it myself!
Det Turner: Oh, come on, why would people believe something like that? They’re not THAT gullible.
Small: What?! Come on, Mr. Turner! They’ll believe it because it’s on TV news! Especially that distinguished channel of yours, BNN! People believe in the war on terror! They believe in voting! They believe that government institutions work in their best interests! They take vaccines without even knowing the ingredients! They believe that weather modification doesn’t exist!
Det Turner: And they believe in authority. Yes, yes, I get your point. Very well, I’ll run it.
Small: Thanks, Mr. Turner.
Det Turner: On one condition. I get access to that weapon.
Small: Oh, boy.
Scene 6
Bong gets a call on his encrypted smart watch while flying back to Acapulco.
Bong: What is it, K?
K (trying to contain laughter): You’re not gonna believe what’s on BNN!
Symphy: Believing the lamestreeam news is not logical. Are you using sarcasm?
K: An entire town in New Mexico was vaporized and they’re saying a new terrorist group, the ARMBASH, is responsible. And guess who’s at the head of this vaunted alliance?
Bong: Garfield.
K: Almost as absurd, but no. You, Bong!
Bong huffs.
Click.
Episode 26 coming soon!
Thanks for your time and attention!
Just say "NO" to slavery!
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