There was this man’s man, you know the sort, burly builder type. Anyway one night, aliens, I mean deep state in their Megaton ships, took him off for the op. He woke not remembering anything, with women’s bits, same voice same him. The press had a field day I can tell you. Oh they laughed, deep and state to see the confusion. He was pregnant to. Well this sent the religious world into uproar. The Antichrist Jesus in the same sentence.
Our friends deep and state were having a royal joyous time by now and were simply tickled pink by the event. “It’s the end of the world” said some; “no it’s the beginning” said others. Neither was right of course. Because our friends deep and state had planned all of it, scripted it and waited until they had the technology to make real their vision.
Anyway pregnant Jim, as his mates were calling him down the pub, was supping his favourite ale.
“So you keeping it then Jim?” guffawed john into a pint.
The pub had not seen such a trade in a good while; it was almost as if community was coming back out of the shadows.
“Yes” said Jim, “definitely, Bethany if it’s a girl Jim if it’s a boy”.
“What if it’s an alien” threw in an onlooker.
“Then the human race will have evolved beyond the precipice of self destruction”, said a stranger the spit of Tom Baker leaving the pub in a swirl.
Cameras were flashing as Jim enjoyed another sup of ale, he was quite the celebrity, but taking it all in his stride. The fact that he now owned the pub was neither here nor there.
Meanwhile deep and state were deeply instate inside their deep state hideaways underground under the deep deep state, you know what I mean, secure in their deepness, deep in deep underground bases deep. They were starting to think they had picked the wrong Jim.
“Was it 52 or 42, where was that piece of paper with the address on”, Carrie get me the names at 42, said general Kirby, the deep deep general.
“There’s a Jim at 42, athlete type sir”
“Damn! Dammit damn! that damn AI is messing with us again Carrie”
His pocket-watch shifted in his coat, uncomfortable for not being touched, he stood on the station in dark corduroy, a sullen looking tall man, black piercing eyes of steel and an air of destruction about him. No one of the dark hand had sacrificed no ill intent upon his road of blasphemy, knowing no bounds his whole had been without...always. His only fear was death. Things were not going to plan, why was Jim keeping this child, he was the completely wrong genotype, and it should have been aborted toot sweet.
“So it will like a drink then Jim”
“well ways I sees it is, it crossed my path not me it, so it’s best if it just accepts the way it is, and the sooner the better” “aye aye” piped the crowd “aye”.
Well Bethany was born and for all his efforts Jim couldn't bring himself to get into the mom role. “Don’t get me wrong”, he cried, when she was born, and had been showing some compassion. But he was a man just a man and no matter how hard he tried he could not, not be just a man.
Well deep and state by now were selfless with doubt and suffering, it didn't matter how they planned it, it just never ever really perfectly went to plan, always some piece that didn't fall into place.
“Clean the pipes and change the barrel” shouted Jim to John. And see if Wendy is OK (the stand in mom).
“I know you mean Beth really Jim”. Said John.