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Ve Haff Rights
16 April 2008 22:41“But….ve are hAmericans,” they said. “Ve haff…rights!”
Their thick accent wasn’t helped by their pointed teeth. I hated making arrests in the ghetto. Stupid Eastern Europeans with their blood plague. The way they searched for common English words always made them sound like they were just now coming up with bright ideas. Not to mention their whistling, sibilant way of talking. It was like listening to little children with missing teeth saying their first words.
They came over by the boatload when the gate first opened. Let’s tap into other dimensions, the scientists said.
Our ancestors had plugged it up, you see. Myths of vampires, fairies, unicorns and giants still hung on but the *how* of their absence had been lost. They were banished and it was a matter of survival. We won.
Looks like we’re losing now. Europe has reverted. It’s a land of semi-mythical kingdoms now. Brutal blue-skinned monarchs with eyes of gold exercising whimsical and cruel judgements on the remaining humans. And each other for good measure. War is a party for the faeriekynd, and a more or less constant state of being.
The only difference is that they are a race of concepts. They’re not alive like us so they don’t take death so seriously. We, on the other hand, are much better at dying than they are.
We’re trying to barter with them now. Presidents and prime ministers and what’s left of humanity are bargaining after the Pope’s head showed up on the top of the Eiffel Tower.
It started with the refugees through the first Gate in Prague. A few winged horses, a fairy princess, and a gnome. Wounded and begging for asylum. Who could resist? They might as well have been talking baby seals. Of course we helped. It was televised. The scientists who had opened the door were hailed as heroes.
Until the dragons came through. And the dark ones. And the fire-orcs. And the vampires.
The scientists were killed. With them went the knowledge of how to close the Gates.
The invaders got the hang of video cameras almost immediately. It was frightening how well they took to technology. They tore the princess to shreds on world-wide television after a liberal and generous raping. The gnome is still alive. They tied him to the Prime Orc’s helmet to be a witness, the orcs said. The gnome never stops crying. There’s a station on the radio where that’s all they play. A live feed of his whimpering regret and broken heart. He’d loved the princess and he had failed to save her.
They feasted on the horses for a month, taking their hind legs first and then their wings so that their whinnying pleas for mercy could be heard all over the world.
Pleas for mercy that eventually changed to pleas for death.
Understandably, people are fleeing by any means. They come here to America.
This is the vampire ghetto that I patrol. The trueblood Vampyr allowed boatloads of people to leave the European Union as long as they could have a drink from their necks before they left. And one family member. Quick, horrible, and intimate games of 'short straw' took place on the dock much to the Vampyr's amusement.
We couldn’t turn them away. We set up makeshift cities to house them but it’s not working out. We’ve done our best to give the vampires daily rations of blood but people in the neighboring suburbs keep disappearing. At first it was just pets but not anymore.
They’re a cancer and soon enough, we’re going to have to ride in and kill them all. Now, though, it’s my job to arrest suspects and take them away for interrogation after there’s a murder. I usually just pick a few vampires at random. There’s never a witness to confirm identity and none of the vampires every come back from ‘interrogation’ at the hands of my men.
I feel like I work for Hitler. I hate it.
I point out two old men and a woman to my men. The go in with neck armour to drag them out.
tags
Their thick accent wasn’t helped by their pointed teeth. I hated making arrests in the ghetto. Stupid Eastern Europeans with their blood plague. The way they searched for common English words always made them sound like they were just now coming up with bright ideas. Not to mention their whistling, sibilant way of talking. It was like listening to little children with missing teeth saying their first words.
They came over by the boatload when the gate first opened. Let’s tap into other dimensions, the scientists said.
Our ancestors had plugged it up, you see. Myths of vampires, fairies, unicorns and giants still hung on but the *how* of their absence had been lost. They were banished and it was a matter of survival. We won.
Looks like we’re losing now. Europe has reverted. It’s a land of semi-mythical kingdoms now. Brutal blue-skinned monarchs with eyes of gold exercising whimsical and cruel judgements on the remaining humans. And each other for good measure. War is a party for the faeriekynd, and a more or less constant state of being.
The only difference is that they are a race of concepts. They’re not alive like us so they don’t take death so seriously. We, on the other hand, are much better at dying than they are.
We’re trying to barter with them now. Presidents and prime ministers and what’s left of humanity are bargaining after the Pope’s head showed up on the top of the Eiffel Tower.
It started with the refugees through the first Gate in Prague. A few winged horses, a fairy princess, and a gnome. Wounded and begging for asylum. Who could resist? They might as well have been talking baby seals. Of course we helped. It was televised. The scientists who had opened the door were hailed as heroes.
Until the dragons came through. And the dark ones. And the fire-orcs. And the vampires.
The scientists were killed. With them went the knowledge of how to close the Gates.
The invaders got the hang of video cameras almost immediately. It was frightening how well they took to technology. They tore the princess to shreds on world-wide television after a liberal and generous raping. The gnome is still alive. They tied him to the Prime Orc’s helmet to be a witness, the orcs said. The gnome never stops crying. There’s a station on the radio where that’s all they play. A live feed of his whimpering regret and broken heart. He’d loved the princess and he had failed to save her.
They feasted on the horses for a month, taking their hind legs first and then their wings so that their whinnying pleas for mercy could be heard all over the world.
Pleas for mercy that eventually changed to pleas for death.
Understandably, people are fleeing by any means. They come here to America.
This is the vampire ghetto that I patrol. The trueblood Vampyr allowed boatloads of people to leave the European Union as long as they could have a drink from their necks before they left. And one family member. Quick, horrible, and intimate games of 'short straw' took place on the dock much to the Vampyr's amusement.
We couldn’t turn them away. We set up makeshift cities to house them but it’s not working out. We’ve done our best to give the vampires daily rations of blood but people in the neighboring suburbs keep disappearing. At first it was just pets but not anymore.
They’re a cancer and soon enough, we’re going to have to ride in and kill them all. Now, though, it’s my job to arrest suspects and take them away for interrogation after there’s a murder. I usually just pick a few vampires at random. There’s never a witness to confirm identity and none of the vampires every come back from ‘interrogation’ at the hands of my men.
I feel like I work for Hitler. I hate it.
I point out two old men and a woman to my men. The go in with neck armour to drag them out.
tags