2 0 7 7, Tilman-Otto WAGNER [read an ebook week txt] 📗

all the red fossil oil stocks and drinking water reserves were to be seized. The nuclear terrestrial cyborg units of «Wotogor» were ready for armed actions. Titanium protection shields and plutonium anti-tank guns were activated from the order issued by the 13 presidents and royals of «Wotogor». Telescopic drones at the RCSW were programmed to track down every temperature of android body emissions within a radius of 1.300 square miles. The «Wotogor»-sector was entirely build from titanium blocks and white quicksands near the coast of Ocean A.P. It was a maximum security unit, where the central data agency was set on tracking down the exact coordinates of the 200 snipers’ position. It was called Mission Blue because of the indigo blue color of the snipers’ camo suits.

 

Dr. Slix, Ve and Ot arrive in the year of 2037 in «Wotogor». No life energy credits required here. The metallic reflection of the very few sunrays in the titanium blocks is blending them. They put on their dark blue sunglasses with body heat visibility. For a moment, Ve is looking north, using her left arm as a field glass. There is a huge sandstorm approaching from the artificial steppe which spreads out in front of them. Dr. Slix is activating his thermo-suit. Ot activates his chameleon-camouflage, becoming one with the sandy white of his environment. Ve is still observing the approaching sandstorm through her left arm. An earpiercing, howling wind goes right through them, as they decide to walk south. The only help supplied to them by the Intergalactic Commissioners regarding the exact repository of the Seven Magnetic Keys is an amber map with carved runes of the seven paths that lead to the repositories. They don’t know though if there are seven different storage places or just one. It is a dangerous mission they embark on, for every single citizen’s future existence on Plutonanix depends on them finding the Seven Magnetic Keys and handing them out to the Intergalactic Commissioners. The territory, where the 200 infiltrated snipers are fighting against the «Wotogor» war robots, is a death zone. As they walk south, deeper and deeper into the fossil oil territories, Dr. Slix suggests an oasis pit stop. As he spots a red fossil oil platform within a range of 40 square miles, Ot and Ve preventively realize what is going to happen. They both fetch and activate their hipnotism-antennas. These intelligent electronic devices can hypnotize a sentient being within a range of 40 to 60 square miles, putting it into a 24-hours deep slumber.

 

«Hicks tha’ pix, we should get it movin’!», whispers Dr. Slix in an old-fashioned manner.

 

Ot and Ve nod consensually. They can feel the truculent sandstorm behind their backs. Ve points her hipnotism-antenna at the engineers and workers, who are located on the red oil platform, presses the on-button and charms the clueless men into a deep sleep. Dr. Slix sets in motion, directing Ot and Ve the way to the south. Walking by the platform with the sleeping engineers and workers, a shaft of red light points at the forehead of Ot. A piping shot echoes through the dusty air of the white quicksand dunes. Ve and Dr. Slix run for cover, hiding behind an amorphous blue silicon rock. Ot’s body falls into muddy swamp water. His chameleon-camouflage deactivates. Ve takes out a small remote-controller from her left pocket and presses a red button, transforming Ot‘s hull into an android body protector. A second shot is fired at Ot. The bullet bounces off. Ot reaches out for an elastic vine, hanging on for dear life with his fingers clutching the vine. Ve extends her telescopic limb to a point where Ot grabs for her fingers. A third shot misses Ot’s hull by a fraction of an inch. Dr. Slix and Ve pull Ot out of the sewaged water of the swamp. They tear him behind the blue silicon rock. Within a fraction of a second, they teleport themselves by use of their telepathic energy accumulators to a remote site in the «Wotogor»-sector. Crimson red fog patches are spreading out in front of them together with a keen smell of burnt up rubber tires. Checking their position and reassembling their camouflage suits, a far distant explosion arouses their attention. Kneeling, Ve and Dr. Slix fix the damaged particles of Ot’s head.

 

«It must have been a drone attack», Dr. Slix whispers.

 

 

 

Meanwhile, an emergency meeting with the 13 presidents and royals of «Wotogor» is being held at the headquarters of the RCSW. Everybody is in alert about the three intruders and 200 snipers prowling round the white quicksands. The telescopic drones still can’t trace down the precise position for the scan must go through a 3.200 square miles area.

In the year 2037, every single district of the «Wotogor»-sector near zone A7 is being headed by a president or royal with full rein authority over the citizens. Elections are manipulated by the secret agencies and media lobbyists. Terror, fear and repression are the principles of the 13 presidents and royals. They are insane enough to start an armed conflict with almost the rest of the world. Eurerica, Afrisia and Antarlia cover 97 % of the Earth surface, 80 % of which is being owned by shareholders of transnational corporations, plutonium mongers, corrupted lobbyists, criminal shylocks, megalomaniacal computer programmers and degenerated bureaucrats. The citizens of the «Wotogor»-sector are living in permanent fear and claustrophobia in their titanium blocks near the coast of Ocean A.P. Every citizen receives three pills per day: a red one in the morning, blue one at midday and a green one in the evening, after the muster on the plane marble plateau nearby the headquarters of RCSW. At the siren alarm sound, everybody has got to be present for the muster, no matter what. The only excuse for missing is a death certificate. Corporated greed, corruption, tolerable criminality and impiety dilapidated the «Wotogor»-sector and the life of its citizens, degrading them to enslaved androids. During the day, everybody has got to be working on the red fossil oil platforms as workers, programmers and engineers. The refineries and distribution companies around the world depend on the import of red oil for the production of aviation turbine fuel. Aerocabs can fly only by use of turbine fuel. During the years, it turned into a lucrative business between the «Wotogor»-sector and the rest of the world, but it also triggered territorial conflicts, cyber attacks and informational embargos.

 

 

 

The amber map showing the seven paths that lead to the repositories of the Seven Magnetic Keys is their only help. Ot‘s, Ve‘s and Dr. Slix’ mission is to find the repositories and to enter in possession of the Seven Magnetic Keys. The seven paths that lead to the secret place lead into seven different directions - no hints or arcane meanings indicated by the carved runes. As Ot recovers from the incident in the red fossil oil territories, Ve and Dr. Slix try to figure out by use of logical deduction and intuition if the seven paths on the amber map lead to just one or different repositories. A dark curtain of tar clouds cloaks their silhouettes, their three shadows exhaustedly stretching out between crimson red fog patches. Deactivating their camouflage suits, Ot and Ve look at Dr. Slix in a wondering manner. He presses a button behind his left ear. The thermo-suit shrinks together with the silver feather costume and his silver platform shoes within seconds to a tiny silicon bag. Softly bedazzled by the purple ultraviolet rays cutting the surface of the remote site in the «Wotogor»-sector, they deactivate their brain batteries.

 

 

 

In the meantime, the 13 presidents and royals of «Wotogor» proclaimed during their emergency meeting at the headquarters of the RCSW a worldide diversionary warfare maneuver, which intended to destabilize the economical and political ressources of the O8 and T3 zones of Eurerica, the Afrisian A7 and E4 zones and Antarlia’s Z5 and K1 zones. First they triggered a ginormous war refugee exodus from the Eurerican O8 and T3 zones, that was to overrun the biggest parts of the Afrisian A7 and E4 zones. Out of solidarity people welcomed, helped and gave shelter to the refugees. Nobody knew, that this war refugee exodus was just a distraction from the actual plans of the «Wotogor»-sector presidents and royals. These presidents and royal elites were all blood-related among each other and connected by a 4,000-year old blood lineage to the Ancient Egypt pharaohs. Worshiping the Seven Princes of Hell and performing satanistic rituals, these incestuous despots and war strategians were all intertwined with the Merovigians. Within the bloodlines, leadership was based on mythical descent, and alleged purity of blood. Therefore these royal-political elites marry within themselves, in efforts to protect the blood and to compete with one another over genetics. During the milleniums, their reign of terror spread out its malefic tentacles all over the world, subverting every important political, economical and social change on the planet.

 

The nuclear terrestrial cyborg units of the «Wotogor»-sector and their leaders were in a permanent murderous mood for armed actions. On their Mission Blue, the telescopic drones sent by the RCSW were still trying to track down the 200 snipers and three intruders. The only success message the RCSW received was that a drone fired off a few shots at one of the three intruders somewhere in the red fossil oil territories. The precise coordinates were unknown. It was not confirmed that the shots caused leathel damage. Another unknown fact was that the 200 snipers sent by the SPAs of Eurerica, Afrisia and Antarlia were just a few miles away from the RCSW headquarter in the «Wotogor»-sector. They battled their way through and managed to trick the surveillance apparatuses by use of their camo suits. Their instructions were to seize all the red fossil oil stocks and drinking water reserves, destroy the data processing center of the RCSW headquarter and take the 13 president and royals captive. It was an intricate mission for each president and royal had fifty robot security guards available for his personal protection. Not even the Intergalactic Commissioners possessed the knowledge about the exact residence of the 13 leaders, far less about the repositories of the Seven Magnetic Keys.

 

Due to drastic temperature fluctuations and dry seasons most of Eurerica’s and Afrisia’s encrusted surfaces were covered by a 130 million square miles deserted mantle of the Earth. Most parts of the oceans were overlaid by tectonic plates of foulded mountains, vulcanos and sand. With the exception of 8 isolated oases in the T3 and A7 zones, where the most resistant plants Elaginella lepidophylla, Welwitschia mirabilis, Elaeagnus angustifolia, Cannabis sativa and passiflora still grew, all the natural ressources were eradicated by the large industrial companies and warfare apparatuses. These 8 oases were cultivated and looked after by the health guru Kaura Kaibe and his 300 love warriors and freedom fighters who organized themselves in the Love Warriors and Freedom Fighters Unions. He was a close friend of Dr. Slix whom he helped drafting the Constution of Love in 2035. The water was supplied by rain messengers in exchange for a miraculous elixir of life extracted from the plants in the oases. The brewing recipe was kept secret by Kaura Kaibe. Nobody except himself knew how to prepare the elixir. It provided a lifespan vitality of 170 years. Love warriors and freedom fighters were relicts from the ancient time when The Blue Planet used to be a nutritious Garden of Eden. Their mission was to share their infinite knowledge of the universal awareness with the future generations and to preserve the collective mind and memory of the human species. Under the strict but warmhearted guidance of their health guru, everybody in the isolated oases could feel safe from the malefic tentacles of the worlds terror reign and warfare attrocities.

 

One morning, a love warrior couple wakes up early in oases 6 to welcome the rain messengers. The water reserves are drawing to an end. Tristan and Alena are holding each