Geneta-landia (Part Two)

16 April 5042

Central Breeding Center

New Johannesburg, UNoA (United Nations of Africa)

A doctor in white scrubs progressed among the tanks. He took a look at the cardiographs for each patient and saw that they were running steadily. Beep, beep, beep, beep. He saw a nurse and said, “Are the new ones ready for inspection?”

“Yes, doc,” was the reply.

A cart full of screaming babies, suspended in a fluid, rolled on its own accord, and a robot hoisted a baby up to the light, staring at it intently with one electronic eye. The robot then said, “Not suitable.” It killed the baby with a laser and threw it down a garbage chute. It then picked up another and said, “Suitable for second-stage testing.” Another robot, whose arms ended in a giant bassinet, rolled by and the robot dropped the baby into it. He then went back to surveying the rest of the babies.

The robot with the bassinet rolled down hall after sterile hall. Eventually, it came to a door. The door slid open with a chuff and the bassinet robot was admitted to a room containing hundreds of thousands of individual cribs. The robot with the bassinet dropped each baby into an individual crib, which was then sealed by a glass top. Another robot pressed a button and a cool computerized voice said, “Pain test, level one.” Electrical volts shot out of the side of the crib and the baby began to scream and cry. After five seconds, the computer said, “Results are being sent to doctors for analysis.” Then, “Endurance test, level one.” A wheel shot out of a crib and an arm pushed the baby into it. The baby began to crawl faster and faster. Then, the baby stopped. A cool computer voice said, “Overwhelmingly negative results. Disposal process initiated.” A needle punctured the baby’s thigh, and a clear fluid shot down the needle. The baby’s face seized, it began to shake, and, suddenly, there was no movement.

Three rows over, a baby had completed that task and was moving onto the next test. A cool computer voice said, “Cardio resistance test, level one.” A lamp came over the crib, and the crib began to heat up. A screen next to the crib read the temperature. The temperature jumped from a comfortable 70 degrees, to 90 degrees, to 112 degrees, to 190 degrees, and the baby began to pant. The cardio monitor beside the bed began to go crazy: beepbeepbeepbeepbeeeeeepbeepbeepbeeeeeeeep. The beeping was no longer steady; it was getting higher and higher. It climbed to incredible levels before being replaced by a flat monotone: booooooom. The line on the screen was flat. Again, “Disposal process initiated.” There was a flash of light and the baby was gone. Simply disintegrated.

Meanwhile, upon completing these tests, those who had passed them successfully were sent in for actual testing by a human being. In this new room, babies were subjected to visual inspections of all areas. They were tested for genetic compatibility and, if the results were unfavorable or average, the next procedure was the sterilization of the genitals, which was done by simple x-rays. If the genetic combinations were extraordinary, then that particular human being would be allowed to reproduce sexually, which was a long-lost luxury for much of the world’s population. Upon the completion of this simple procedure, the babies were subjected to yet another visual inspection. When this was completed, the babies were transferred to a holding pen, while genetic makeup was analyzed. This was done by a combination of a computer and a human reviewer. The computer would perform initial analysis and then the human would finalize. Upon the human finalization, the babies were transported to an adoption center.


17 April 5042

Central Adoption Area

The completion of the genetic tests took a day, but, when that day was completed, the babies were transported to the adoption center in the morning. In the adoption area, babies were kept in rooms according to one of four races, each of which was carefully curated by those who combined the genes to make the babies in the first place. The only four races which were allowed to live on were Caucasian, Asian, Middle Eastern, and Black. All other races and their minorities were exterminated by simply not including genes to produce them anymore. At precisely 9:00 AM on the 17th of April each year, the public was admitted to the viewing rooms. If a couple or single spotted a baby they were interested in, they would take the baby into a playroom to have a trial. If the baby had the desired genetic characteristics of that particular family, the baby would be taken home. If not, the baby would be returned to the main adoption center. The adoption center would be open for twenty-four hours, seven days a week from the 17th of April until the 24th of April. Any babies who were not picked by that time would either be exterminated or called to complete early army training.


18 April 5042

Sana’a, Yemen

People bustled in the streets. It was sunny, and above all lay the symbol of the Genetic Covenant. The supreme leader/Dontar of the Genetic Covenant was the leader of the world. This began years earlier, when ISIS was vanquished in 2025. In order to prevent the entrance of any more extremists, it was decided that they would simply stop breeding extremists. From then on, all reproduction was tightly controlled by the Genetic Covenant to ensure that no more terrorists were bred into the world ever again. People were still allowed to worship as they would, but their loyalty was above all to the Genetic Covenant, by genes. The Genetic Covenant was created with the Genetic Accords in Yemen in 2011. They would come into effect when Al Qaeda/ISIS/other Islamic extremist groups were vanquished from the world. The Genetic Accords were signed in secret by all of the great powers, spearheaded at the time by President Obama. Then, the Minuteman strike paralyzed most of the terrorists. This meant that the Genetic Accords could now go into effect. The first Breeding Center was opened on June 5, 2025 in New York City. To the creators of the Genetic Accords, it was important that one of the world’s most powerful cities would be the first to adopt the program. President Trump did not agree with the Genetic Accords entirely, believing that there should be a limit on Muslim genetics as well, basically eliminating Muslim genes from the world. However, Secretary of State Rex W. Tillerson stopped the measure behind the President’s back. This saved a race. The United Nations set about directing nations that were not on the Security Council to begin using the program.


19 April 5042

122 Freedom Street, New Johannesburg, UNoA

Jane and John Petersburg played with little baby Yohan without knowing what her true purpose was. Yohan was one of the New Ones — a race of superhumans under genetic modification at the United States Genetic Labs in Washington D.C. in the United States of America. The superhumans not only combined the perfect genes of humanity, but also the strongest. There was a plot.


23 April 5042

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Washington D.C. 20500

White House, Oval Office

President Alex Sarappo LXX stared up at the portrait of President Washington, which sat right alongside the portrait of President Obama. He could have sworn that President Obama winked at him. He stared down at the briefing once again and sighed. There were anti-geneticists. But how could there be? The human race was so perfect with the genetic modifications. How could anyone be opposed to such a perfect society? He left the office, shaking his head.


700 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Washington D.C. 20408

National Archives, Rotunda

President Sarappo LXX walked into the Rotunda, accompanied by seventy guards who all wore suits with earpieces and dark glasses. He stepped up to the Declaration of Independence and the guards stepped aside. The doors parted and the Declaration of Independence was exposed. The President read for an hour and then he ripped the Declaration down.

“But, sir!” yelled one of his guards. But it was too late. The president took out a cigar lighter and set fire to the Declaration of Independence.

“Let it be known that I am the top. In the name of the people, I choose that I should dictate to the people. I order the destruction forthwith of the Constitution and the undoing of all its principles. Now, I briefly declare martial law to have you do one thing: knees, now.” And everyone kneeled.

The president stamped a foot and said, “Now, hail me.”


24 April 5042

New Johannesburg

The CNN broadcaster finished his report with, “This report has been approved by the new IPG and Sarappo the Great. I will not be executed for broadcasting this material.”

Jane put a hand to her head and said, “So this is how freedom dies. This is how the world’s greatest democracy falls. They told us it would be perfect. They told us the world would remain a democracy. They told us that we were beyond all of this. They told us that genetics would make our world perfect, but purity in genetics leads to dictatorship. The Dontar remains democratic so that the entire world is not a dictatorship, but absolute power always corrupts absolutely. It never goes as it does in the movies. It never goes completely. It begins with the slightest rot in one organ of the machine.”

Her husband sighed.


25 April 5042

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Washington D.C. 20500

White House, Oval Office

The Speaker of the House entered the room, thumping his fist on his chest before extending his arm and bowing deeply. “Mr. President, sir.”

“No one call me President. Execute this man immediately.” A secret service guard in suit and tie and dark glasses ran in. He had a needle at the ready and the man was executed on the spot, his last expression one of bewilderment and his last words, “Why?” It was in this way that the United States was “cleansed.” The developments in the United States were reported to the Dontar, and he attempted to make a change in the United States. He ordered the President executed by the United Nations immediately. It was set to occur on the occasion of the President’s first address to the people. The President would then be replaced by an interim leader, until fully democratic elections could occur with the only person prohibited from running being Alex Sarappo LXXI, because it was considered that Alex Sarappo LXX would be dead.


27 June 5043

1600 Me Avenue, Sarappo City D.M., 20500

Imperial Palace Lawn

Alex Sarappo LXX emerged from the palace gates. He was in a black car, which was surrounded by motorcycles, on which rode guards in military fatigues bearing assault rifles and other automatic weapons, including even a tactical nuclear missile launcher. He stepped down from the car to an ornately decorated podium where two men and two women bowed to him. He waved his hand and, all of a sudden, a silent maid gave him a bowl of fruits. He tossed one into the pyre beside his throne and took a bite out of another, feeding the rest to a monkey perched on his right shoulder. He said, “Citizens of the Empire of Sarappo. 3,000 years ago, when this country was still a democracy known as the United States of America, my great ancestor Alex Sarappo worked at an organization called Writopia Lab. This organization was a think tank which provided quiet, uncensored writing spaces for free speech. This is what I have eliminated for you. Things are better when I make decisions for you. My great ancestor would never have wanted what I have done, but I have done what I have done, and I have risen this family to a position of power unoccupied by any other.”

As he began his speech, citing references such as “budget,” he said, “Why do you need budget when you can work for me and only have a pay of honor?”

In the rear of the lawn, two soldiers stood guard. One of them fell forward. The other, startled, said, “Jacobs!?” He too fell to the ground as three people in black military bodysuits rushed across the lawn. Darting between the revellers, who stood in fear and happiness before the emperor, they attempted to move unseen. They soon reached, however, a line of imperial guardians, which they darted past, but the guardians began to fire at them. One of the men fell, blood spurting from a hole in the back of his balaclava. The other two attempted to continue, as people around them yelled wildly, “For the empire!” and tried to grab them for the soldiers to shoot.

Emperor Sarappo grabbed a pistol and shot one of the remaining two through the skull so that blood and pieces of brain splattered through the hole in his head. Meanwhile, the remaining person attempted to shoot Emperor Sarappo, but failed as he was shot three times in the back and three times in the head simultaneously by Emperor Sarappo and an imperial guardian. The Emperor said, “Send the Dontar my withdrawal notice. We are coming after them. We can defeat them!”


20 July 5043

Central Breeding Center

New Johannesburg

Yet more babies were undergoing tests as the robots brought them through the Central Breeding Center. One of these babies was a baby named Jonathan. To be more specific, Jonathan Bletchley Smith II. He was just an innocent babe in those times, but he would grow to pass the tests and save the world from the tyranny of the United States. A buzzing robot came to take him to the Central Adoption Center, and this was the beginning of a new life.


21 July 5043

The Mansion, Sherwood Dr, Bletchley Milton Keynes MK3 6EB, UK

Bletchley Park

Jonathan Bletchley Smith II sat in a sitting room at Bletchley Mansion. This was his mansion now. He had a staff of over 1,700 people to take care of his every need. But this was truly his base of operations to focus on something larger: the maintenance of the genetic system and the rescue of his Yemeni relatives.

Sun filtered through a gap in the velvet curtains. He stared at a computer screen as though willing all the work he had to do to go away. But it wasn’t budging. If you got in this business, you had to do the work that came with it.

Yemen had fallen to the anti-Geneticist rebels, but, again, why would anyone rebel against such a perfect system? In most situations that are dystopic, there’s a restriction of personal freedom, but there was no such thing in this system. Everyone was allowed to live as they would, with undesirables executed at birth, with nothing more being heard.

Suddenly, as he pondered this deep question, an air raid siren sounded. At the same time, his computer began to go crazy, popping up with an alert that there was a nuclear bomb attack inbound. Jonathan was curious: had the rebels really gotten this far already? If they had gotten this far, he himself would have lost confidence in them long ago. He got up from the chair and strolled leisurely to a massive door with seven wheels on it. The door swung open as he stepped inside of it. He retreated down a stairway as the alarms followed him, watching flashing sirens on the walls. A voice came through the alarms: “Under attack. Warning. Under attack. Please seek shelter immediately. You will be alerted with a blue alert tone when everything is all clear.” The voice repeated this over and over again as he hurried down dark stairway after dark stairway. Upon reaching a dark concrete room, he assumed the proper hunkered-down position. He watched what was going on above on a television screen and wondered exactly why they sounded the alarm.

Suddenly, the voice came through again, “Drill. Drill. Personal message: ha ha, I’ve got you thinking you almost died!”

Jonathan asked, “Who are you?”

The voice replied reverberatingly, “You shall never know exactly who I am, but you may refer to me as the Harvester, the Protector, the Seeder. But you can call me Joe. I have come to your planet to play practical jokes because I’ve got nothing better to do after the first war three millennia ago. I can control all of your systems and humans and animals like they are rag dolls. So you are basically a giant, I believe you call it a ‘Lego,’ set. I shall be playing more jokes on you later. Goodbye.”


22 July 5043

Sarappo City D.M., 20392

1 One Guy/Girl (depending upon the gender of the Presidential Regent) Less Powerful than Me Circle (formerly 1 Observatory Circle)

Presidential Regent Joan Alchmire looked out the window. She wondered, “What is my place in all of this? What is my place in Emperor Sarappo’s regime? Am I supposed to be his secretary, something for him to parade around and put on display? But he has given me the power to do this.” The Regent suddenly called a number of the Imperial Marine Corps officers to stand. A number of officers arrived. “Now, officers,” she said, “Do jumping jacks!” They did jumping jacks. When they were finished, she said, “Grab a random person from the street, arrest them, and bring them to me now.”

When a poor looking man in a jacket who smelled strongly of cocaine and heroin arrived, she said, “Knock him in the head.” One of the officers obediently grabbed his pistol and slammed it into the side of the poor man’s head. “Now, shoot him.”

“Of course,” said a Marine. There was a silenced shot that sounded like a polite cough, and then there was a sickening crunch as his shoulder bone shattered and his arm hung limp. The man screamed.

“Shoot him in the mouth,” screamed the Presidential Regent. There was another polite cough and blood poured from the man’s mouth as he fell to the floor. He was unable to make any sounds, but his eyes conveyed a world of pain. “Now shoot him through the top of the head.”

“Of course,” said the Marine sergeant. He pressed the gun against the small of the man’s head, and there was the sound of an even more muffled polite cough, as the man adopted an expression of shock and fell forward like a stone. She turned away, feeling satisfied.


12 December 5043

Sana’a, Yemen

Unknown location  

On a street corner in clear, cool Sana’a a stone building sat abandoned. A dilapidated, illuminated sign said, “مقهى سياحي! نحن نعرف اللغة الإنجليزية جيدة! رخيص! رخيص!”

Another sign next to it read, “Tourist Cafe! We Know English Good! Cheap! Cheap!” It buzzed on and off with the frequent power outages. The last occupants of the building had forgotten to turn it off, but the power failed so often in Sana’a that it was like it was off permanently. Inside, there was a 3092 year old layer of dust covering everything. Since the building had gone unoccupied, there were rumors that it was haunted or occupied by hermits. As these rumors were proven to be untrue, squatters had moved in and out again. However, there were some lasting fixtures, such as metal tables and chairs. Impaled in one of the metal tables was a fragment of paper yellowed and degrading with age. It read:


A man sat and stared at the paper. A light briefly flashed as he took a picture with his phone.


8 November 5044

Sarappo City D.M., 20392

1 One Guy/Girl Less Powerful than Me Circle

“Do you know what this is?”

“No, I don’t,” replied Emperor Sarappo.

“This reads: ‘Will you kill me?’ Forensic analysis has confirmed our suspicions. It’s from over 3,000 years ago, in 1951. We believe that this is our trail to the elusive Jonathan, and that Jonathan is, in fact, the great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great grandson of Jonathan Bletchley, founder of Bletchley manor in Milton Keynes in the state of England. Jonathan Bletchley II is one of the greatest supporters of the Dontar, but if we turn him to our side, I believe he will be amenable to assisting us, because he thinks that the Genetic Program will lead to great things. Now we know the last name of this early instigator, and we can look through civil records from that time to determine his personal details.”

“Then go ahead and do it,” screamed the emperor. “What are you talking to me for? In fact,” he yelled, “someone get in here and shoot her!”

A sergeant ran into the room and read as fast as the fine print in a car commercial, “You have been charged with direct treason against the state. Under penal codes 5420 & 541204422, you are sentenced to death.” There was another polite cough as though someone had a question, and the Presidential Regent fell to the ground, her eyes glassy.


9 November 5044

Libreville, Gabon

Gabon was one of the few countries in the world poor enough to not have a long-range spaceport, which catered to destinations such as New Congo on Ganymede V. The only transportation fixture was an airport, dubbed Libreville International Airport, or “the place of the steel birds” by native people. Jackson Dueter got off of a flight on a supersonic Concord XVII from Bangkok. It reached cruising speeds of around 17,000 mph, which was escape velocity for chemical rockets back in the 2000s. This meant that the flight took 22 minutes. Upon arrival, he was waved through Customs and Immigration, because even in those days, authorities were easily bribed to ignore the fact that there were 100 assault rifles and a small number of tactical nuclear missile launchers in his suitcase. He stepped out into the heat and briefly contemplated holding a taxi driver at gunpoint before deciding it would be more productive to pay. He jumped into a dilapidated GCM (General Communist Motors) Eagle, which was made in the Soviet Union in 1998. He practically screamed at the driver, “Get me to the city center! Now!” The driver was tanned and wore old camouflage fatigues. The car stank of urine and years of having just enough care to keep it working for thousands of years.

When he arrived in the city center, he jumped out of the car and bounded toward a door. He pounded on it with a brass knuckleduster three times, rap rap rap. He then did two quick taps: taptap. A voice came through the door, saying, “Kodi inu bwenzi kapena mdani?”

To this he replied, “Palibe ndine wosakwatiwa.”

The voice came through the door again, barely audible over hysterical laughter, “No, you idiot. You just said you weren’t married! You were supposed to say, ‘I am not a foe!’ or ‘Sindine mdani!’”

“Fine, fine. Just open the door and don’t make a big scene for the police,” whispered Jackson. The door silently swung inward, as someone within stepped aside to allow Jackson in.

“Now comes escalation!” said Jackson as he slammed his fist on the table at which they were sitting by the fire.


14 November 5044

Sarappo City D.M., 20001

148 Lack of Freedom St.

A black hover vehicle touched down on the tarmac. Its windows were tinted, and inside it was lusciously appointed. But its luxurious appearance hid a far more sinister purpose. This was a car which was converted into a tank with assault rifles and grenades. A police officer walked by and got a faceful of acid paint that started to melt his skin and skull, as he screamed ever so briefly before falling silent because his mouth had melted away. Soon, the car drove away, as the heap of police uniforms and bubbling acid fizz sat on the ground. Beside it was a post-it note: “We are coming.”


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