CSI: American Carnage (Monday, September 23, 2019)
IN THE CYBER – Little Timmy, pup reporter, and the Professor’s small strike force make their way out of the protective cave deep in The Cyber and look across the blasted landscape. Big Bertha tweets have been rolling in every 13 seconds leaving a pocked and rutted wasteland as far as the eye can see. A sallow moon shines over a bubbling lake and the breeze bears a rancid stench, like old buttery potatoes pulsing with mycotoxins. Boris, genial triple agent, says, Eet ees like moonrise in Chernobyl. So beeauteefull. Sarah, Timmy’s friend from the resistance potluck, says, We have entered the autocrat’s half life of decay. This is the embodiment of his fantasy world. How disgusting can he make the life of the imagination? Very. Timmy, who is carrying a stuffed bird, says, Let’s get away from this battlefield before the tweets begin coming in again. There are some monsters! The group falls silent and walks along a broad path marked, here and there, by small holes blown out by off-handed snark bomblets. Leafless trees poke above the charred plain in the middle distance. Boulders are strewn across the fields, and ponds of acrid waste – catchment pools? – can be seen here and there. They glow a dark brown. Mohammed looks over the scarred ground and says to Timmy, He will really stop at nothing. Timmy shakes his head, No, nothing. At that moment, the Professor whispers, Stop! Just beyond the next rise, the roof of a house can be seen. Smoke curls from its chimney and patches of black dahlias grow on its front lawn, shadow flowers. Timmy says, A house! A woman wearing a broad apron and with her hair pinned back, opens the front door and takes a deep breath. There is a jabbering in the air. The sound of many voices. Look! says Boris. He points at the fields rolling behind the farmhouse. People sprout everywhere from the ground. They have cell phones and screech into them. Some punch at the keyboards. Jajajajaja! fills the air. Fights break out as the people grow. The strike force watches, astonished. Timmy says, What could it be? Sarah shakes her head. She says, A troll farm. This is where they grow the trolls, ripening them before the reaping. The Professor empties his pipe and says, I’m afraid Sarah is right. These troll farms are essentially harmless. The trolls they grow simply argue and disparage one another, and, of course, their targets. Sarah says, They also sow misinformation from those large sacks. They cultivate incredibility and then fertilize with a steaming layer of false facts. It is an insidious operation. I say we burn it down! The Professor says, Scorched earth? Sarah says, Absolutely. That is the only thing the autocrat understands. – Monday, September 23, 2019