CSI: American Carnage (Tuesday, March 10, 2020)
LAS VEGAS – Little Timmy, pup reporter, and the Professor’s small strike force are blocked from entering the Hotel Bellagio, a favorite watering hole for Boris, genial triple agent. The strike force is held back by a double ring of Carabinieri backed up by Guardia di Finanza with a fine display of automatic weaponry and hardened vehicles. Boris, incensed, says to a local LV police officer standing to the side, What are they doing? I need to return to my room. I am outraged by this thuggishness. The cop says, Sorry, pal. All of Italy has been locked down. You can’t go in there. Timmy tugs on Boris’ sleeve and says, Boris, come on, we’re late for Detroit. Boris says, I am seek of Motel Sex. I need Bellagio. Sarah, Timmy’s friend from the resistance pot luck, says, Come on, Boris, there’s nothing here. The police officer says, Yeah, nothing to see here. The Italians are in lock-down. Nobody goes in and nobody goes out. Move along. Boris says, Okay, okay. The strike force heads toward Wormhole2020 for the trip to the Hamtramck headquarters. Boris grudgingly turns away from his beloved Bellagio. He says, How can they lock down Bellagio? Eet has best vodka! Sarah says, The Autocrat thrives on disruption. He is in love with chaos. The fear engendered by the fusion of Las Vegas and Lake Como is jarring and disorienting perfection. Who can predict what else will be fused? The Autocrat is always unpredictable. He is a nihilist of reality. Nothing is what it appears to be. This is simply what he does. Imagine the thousands upon thousands of people who embarked on luxurious cruises. Their trips of a lifetime have been transformed into journeys to hell. Floating palaces full of the sick and dying unable to dock, sailing forever on rising, garbage-filled oceans. For the Autocrat, this is a heavenly gift. He embraces the destruction and the chaos. He seeks to clone it. Everywhere a tornado. Or, just as good, if not better, the possibility of a tornado, or a hurricane or a deranged attacker looking for a wandering person of color. The destruction is the point, not a byproduct. Boris shakes his head and looks back at the Bellagio. The Guardia, wearing gas masks, hold off old and enfeebled women whose faces are lined with care and are calling out, Dacci dell’acqua. Dacci dell’acqua per favore. Abbiamo così sete. The guardia fend off the outstretched arms and the women, in their full black dresses and black head scarves, begin to fall to the ground. – Tuesday, March 10, 2020