Captain Galvez. Consider him our latest message to the stars.” He walked out, followed by Dr. Schaum. Then a crewman came in and led Galvez back to the airlock.
As she coasted back to her ship she watched the blackness beneath her feet, and wondered what it would be like to drift this way forever.
*
The thing lit up and moved away. Watching it leave, it was as though he were looking through a thick gauze.
It had been with him for some time: above him, below him and beside him. And then when it left he was alone again.
For a long time he waited for it, or something like it, to return. He seemed to expect it, although he wasn’t sure why. But nothing else came.
When he finally realized he was truly alone, he turned all of his attention to the distant stars. Arms spread wide as if to embrace them, he glided silently towards the unknown.
Canadaland
T he Medium is the Massage
(Views of various modes of transportation: 797s and Airbuses thundering in for landings; high speed rail pulling in to train stations; lines of personal automobiles passing through customs)
Announcer’s Voice: “As dangers the world over and within their own country increase, American citizens increasingly look north for their vacation paradise.”
( Camera cuts to fast images of: Mountie dog sledding; nude sunbathers on Wreck Beach 1 ; smiling blonde skiing in the Rockies)
Reach Out and Mug Someone
(Partial transcript of phone message to Dale MacDonald)
Dale: “Hello?”
Operator: “This is Bell Canada 2 . We are pleased to be your new telecommunications server for this area. Please indicate now if you would like to proceed to your incoming call immediately, or if you would like to hear about some of our fine…”
Dale: “Jesus! Incoming call!”
Operator: “Thank you for your choice. We will contact you shortly regarding Bell Canada operations and specials. Please proceed.”
Dale: “Hello?”
Caller: “Dale MacDonald. This is the Human Resources Department for Natural Resources Export Corporation. Our records show that as of 2400 hours today you have been drafted. In keeping with federal government regulations owing to Bill C-7982 3 , your position is terminated. Separation pay has been deposited in your account, and at the end of your service you can expect to be offered an excellent entry-level position. Thank you.”
Dale: “Shit.”
If A Tree Falls in the Forest and No One is There,
Can They Still Make Junk-Mail From It?
Your name is Dale MacDonald, and the mail is late. You’ve just lost your job, informed of this disaster by a computer with a reasonable tone of voice. If the computer knows, then you should as well.
But Canada Post 4 , bless them ( no, really ), is late with the mail today. They don’t deliver for anyone but the feds now, the feds and advertisers who all claim to use recycled paper for their junk mail 5 .
Maybe they recycle each others’ ads.
You are a handsome young lad, Dale. Six-foot four by the new system, one hundred and eighty-five pounds 6 . You have a curly shock of brown hair, blue eyes that all the girls say are to die for , and pretty decent body tone. But today you feel and look quite sick.
Drafted! Kick the concrete porch on the outside of the old tenement you live in. That’s it. Again. Ouch! I bet that smarts, doesn’t it? Got to be careful, can’t afford a broken foot since they delisted it from healthcare 7 .
Ah, the mailman. Walk to meet him at the sidewalk, Dale. Have your I.D. ready so you can prove it really is you.
No? Well, then, follow him down the street to the superboxes 8 , wait for him to deposit your letter, and then pull it out.
Wait! Don’t read it out here! Look up and behind you first.
Yeah, you see? Old Lady Laurier has floated another spy balloon. You can see the sunlight glinting off the one hundred sixty times lens as it tries to focus on the letter. Consider dropping it with one of your pocket missiles, but not for too long. Easier and
As she coasted back to her ship she watched the blackness beneath her feet, and wondered what it would be like to drift this way forever.
*
The thing lit up and moved away. Watching it leave, it was as though he were looking through a thick gauze.
It had been with him for some time: above him, below him and beside him. And then when it left he was alone again.
For a long time he waited for it, or something like it, to return. He seemed to expect it, although he wasn’t sure why. But nothing else came.
When he finally realized he was truly alone, he turned all of his attention to the distant stars. Arms spread wide as if to embrace them, he glided silently towards the unknown.
Canadaland
T he Medium is the Massage
(Views of various modes of transportation: 797s and Airbuses thundering in for landings; high speed rail pulling in to train stations; lines of personal automobiles passing through customs)
Announcer’s Voice: “As dangers the world over and within their own country increase, American citizens increasingly look north for their vacation paradise.”
( Camera cuts to fast images of: Mountie dog sledding; nude sunbathers on Wreck Beach 1 ; smiling blonde skiing in the Rockies)
Reach Out and Mug Someone
(Partial transcript of phone message to Dale MacDonald)
Dale: “Hello?”
Operator: “This is Bell Canada 2 . We are pleased to be your new telecommunications server for this area. Please indicate now if you would like to proceed to your incoming call immediately, or if you would like to hear about some of our fine…”
Dale: “Jesus! Incoming call!”
Operator: “Thank you for your choice. We will contact you shortly regarding Bell Canada operations and specials. Please proceed.”
Dale: “Hello?”
Caller: “Dale MacDonald. This is the Human Resources Department for Natural Resources Export Corporation. Our records show that as of 2400 hours today you have been drafted. In keeping with federal government regulations owing to Bill C-7982 3 , your position is terminated. Separation pay has been deposited in your account, and at the end of your service you can expect to be offered an excellent entry-level position. Thank you.”
Dale: “Shit.”
If A Tree Falls in the Forest and No One is There,
Can They Still Make Junk-Mail From It?
Your name is Dale MacDonald, and the mail is late. You’ve just lost your job, informed of this disaster by a computer with a reasonable tone of voice. If the computer knows, then you should as well.
But Canada Post 4 , bless them ( no, really ), is late with the mail today. They don’t deliver for anyone but the feds now, the feds and advertisers who all claim to use recycled paper for their junk mail 5 .
Maybe they recycle each others’ ads.
You are a handsome young lad, Dale. Six-foot four by the new system, one hundred and eighty-five pounds 6 . You have a curly shock of brown hair, blue eyes that all the girls say are to die for , and pretty decent body tone. But today you feel and look quite sick.
Drafted! Kick the concrete porch on the outside of the old tenement you live in. That’s it. Again. Ouch! I bet that smarts, doesn’t it? Got to be careful, can’t afford a broken foot since they delisted it from healthcare 7 .
Ah, the mailman. Walk to meet him at the sidewalk, Dale. Have your I.D. ready so you can prove it really is you.
No? Well, then, follow him down the street to the superboxes 8 , wait for him to deposit your letter, and then pull it out.
Wait! Don’t read it out here! Look up and behind you first.
Yeah, you see? Old Lady Laurier has floated another spy balloon. You can see the sunlight glinting off the one hundred sixty times lens as it tries to focus on the letter. Consider dropping it with one of your pocket missiles, but not for too long. Easier and
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