In my last two books, HAL and February The Fifth, I’ve been toying with the absolute silliness of our human existence. Little tribes separated by thin red lines on a map and all getting seriously upset in our little patches of Earth because those guys on the other side of the thin red lines worship a different God or speak a language we don’t understand. Even more upset if they are a different colour and eat different food. Perhaps they wear silly hats that we don’t like. One way or another, we in our little tribes of human existence specialise in disliking each other with immense and warlike passion. Kill first, ask questions later.
From the days of Adam and Eve, (metaphorically) we have been been finding ways to really piss each other off. And worse, finding novel ways to kill each other. Usually with god in one hand and a weapon in the other. So little has changed in human existence that as I start to write the third book in this series, I am seriously considering sending one lethally ugly death star and blowing up the whole damn planet.
Not that this is a new idea as many authors have reached the same logical conclusion that the Earth really needs destroying and starting all over again with a clean slate. My favourite, yet unfortunately dead author, sent a Vogon destroyer in the shape of a brick to do the job. He did do it nicely though by adding a little poetry to the proceedings. Awful poetry and likely to kill you, but poetry all the same. I could hope to be so kind.
However, as I sit down to write the final episode I am struggling to find a suitable and similarly nice tool of instant destruction. Death stars and intergalactic destroyers have been done to death. Instead I’m thinking of making it a more self propelled destruction. You know, let’s all sit back and watch as these idiots go about destroying themselves.
‘Oh look! Poof! There goes another little country and 17 million monkey descendants! Hey, you’re not leaving already? Stay around a bit longer and have another drink. Just until another 100 million get wiped out.’
‘Ok. Just one more drink, a few more million, then I really have to get going. My wife’s expecting me home for dinner.’