Chapter Twenty Six
"A man must destroy himself before others can destroy him."
The intercom buzzed. This latest model intercom did away with
buttons entirely, and so - at Wye's spoken command, "Speak," the
circuit was opened.
"A Ms Carolyn Mayes to see you, Dictator," came the smooth voice
of the twentieth Flapper - the civil service bureaucracy had been
slimmed down still further, "She says that she is a news
reporter. And she is accompanied by a cameraman," his voice oozed
"Show her in," said the General, "The cameraman also," he added.
Mayes walked in, confidently. Her tall, blonde figure was
followed - at a slightly slower pace - by the five-ten, dark
haired cameraman, who was taking the time to pan around the
cabinet room, taking in the details which were, through Wye's
television broadcasts, by now familiar to all British citizens.
When she reached the Dictator, Mayes waited a moment for the
camera to take in the scene before asking, sharply, "Do you have
any comment to make concerning this, Dictator?" she made as
though to pass a slim sheaf of print-out across to Wye, who
studiously ignored it.
"That depends - what is it?" asked Wye, his outward calm masking
a core of certainty as to the nature of the information.
"A description, taken from MI5 and MI6 files of the nineteen
forties, of the two towns destroyed in the so-called massacre of
November the twenty third, 1999," Mayes elaborated.
Graham's eyebrows lifted in an almost Vulcan expression of
surprise, "'So called'?" he queried.
"Those two towns," Carolyn went on, "As you know full well, Mr
Greene, did not exist."
"Not after that date, no," said Graham, precisely.
"Nor before that date," replied the reporter, evenly, "Those
towns, along with four others, were pure fiction - created by the
Carolyn Mayes turned to face the General head-on, as she spoke
her next four words. The camera caught every nuance of the
General's expression as Carolyn Mayes said, confidently:
"There was no massacre."
Dot gasped, Gerald was stunned into silence by his astonishment
- even their six year-old twins were amazed, though more by the
reactions of their parents than by the reporter's words. Across
the British Isles, people studied their Dictator's impassive
Wye's carefully-blank expression broke into another of his
famous grins, then quickly escalated into a hearty belly laugh.
It was only that he was having trouble breathing that forced him
to finally come to a stop. "I assume you realise how ludicrous
your words sound, Ms Mayes," he gasped, "And that nobody is ever
going to believe them."
The camera shot cut back to show Carolyn Mayes - actually
speaking over an hour later in specially-filmed cut-away
segments, though her audience either didn't know or didn't care
about that. She had them hooked.
"I believe that you are wrong, Dictator," she began.
Wye's voice - actually, dubbed onto the cut-away segment, but,
again, nobody cared - was heard saying, "Call me 'Absolaam,'
please - everybody else does."
"I believe, Dictator," she went on, refusing this offer of
familiarity, "That everybody in this country will easily be able
to convince themselves of the truth of my words." She then listed
precise reference numbers for the papers in the security services
archives which proved her case, "And, for those requiring further
The shot cut away once more, this time to show Carolyn Mayes
standing in front of a massive earthmover. As she spoke, the
machine lumbered away in the background, tearing up the meadow in
which she was standing, "If you would care to check your maps,"
she said, "You will be able to verify by the landmarks around
me," she indicated some hills, two lakes and a stream, "That I am
at the grid reference given for the location of one of the towns
supposedly massacred two and a half years ago.
"In file," she gave a reference number, which was hastily jotted
down all over the land, "You will find a complete, unedited video
record of my journey from London to this spot - which should
convince even hardened sceptics that I am where I have said that
"Behind me, you can see excavations in progress. So far, we have
removed slightly over two metres of topsoil.
"We have found no trace of either human bodies or any town."
Dot and Gerald stared at the screen, turned and looked at each
other, looked back at the screen. All in silence.
Now the film footage of the massacre was being shown once again.
The camera froze on the image of the burning policeman. Carolyn
Mayes's voice could be clearly heard as the picture zoomed in to
show the policeman's face.
This time, there were no gasps of astonishment - people had gone
beyond that point by now. When the picture cut away to show
Carolyn Mayes talking to that very policeman - very much alive,
and unharmed - brows merely furrowed up and down the land.
"Okay," said the General when the camera cut back to him, "The
security service papers could have been faked, the town buried
more deeply - or destroyed more thoroughly - than you had
guessed, and as for the man you claim," he stressed the word,
"Was the policeman who apparently died during the massacre. Well,
he could quite easily be an impostor. I'm not convinced," the
"I am convinced, Dictator," said Carolyn, "Let us apply Occam's
"If the massacre took place, then you have planted fake evidence
to suggest that fifty thousand people not only did not die, but
never existed. Evidence which has been planted with such care
that it is consistent with government records going back six
decades. Not content with that, however, you have also destroyed
a town containing dozens of people who are identical in
appearance to people now alive - and each of those people claim
to have taken part in the filming of the so-called massacre - and
buried the remains of the towns involved so carefully that no
"On the other hand, if no massacre took place then only one item
needed to be faked - the film showing the massacre itself.
"Occam's razor, Dictator - the fewer assumptions required, the
more likely the explanation is. I submit to you that the massacre
did not, in fact, take place."
"What is my motive?" asked Wye, calmly, but still grinning
"Simple - to take power, avoiding the possibilities of
"And why not just perform an actual massacre, in that case?"
"Because..." This time, Carolyn Mayes was rendered speechless.
"Say it, Carolyn," demanded the Dictator, "Think, woman!" he
barked, as she hesitated, "The only reason for a fraudulent
massacre is in order to..." he prompted.
Reluctantly, she said, "Is in order to produce the psychological
effect of a massacre, without having to carry out a real
"To avoid bloodshed," nodded Wye, to the astonishment of the
country's television viewers, and the disbelief of some.
In the United States of America, unease was rapidly turning to
unrest as the British technology failed in still more of the
Welfare programme's protein wafer plants, forcing each of those
plants to close down - one by one.
"We're hungry now!" chanted the crowd, "We're hungry NOW!"
The ten-thousand strong mob was blocking the square in front of
the Capitol building, in Washington, DC. Similar demonstrations
were going on in front of virtually every government building in
every state throughout the country.
The British embassy in every country across the world was
distributing parcels of protein wafers, but only to those who
were showing the signs of malnutrition - not to those who were
merely hungry, only to those who were literally starving.
To prevent a black market springing up, the protein wafers given
out at the British 'mercy posts' were to be eaten on the
premises, and the controlling chips of the machinery used to
manufacture the wafers were all overseas makes. If a machine was
stolen - as happened in Boston - then that machine immediately
ceased to work, and that mercy post closed down until it was
returned and could be repaired.
Once this had happened two or three times, the crowds themselves
began to function as de facto guards for the mercy posts.
In short, people were permitted to suffer from their hunger and
starvation, but were kept alive and in borderline-good health for
as long as they wished, and were able, to travel to their nearest
By the end of August, apparently-permanent, loose-knit and
unorganised camps of the starving and near-starving were
established around each and every mercy post in every country on
all of the continents of the planet.
In each camp, the picture was the same.
A child with taut, shiny skin - swollen and distended by protein
deficiency - licked its dry, cracked lips with a smooth, puffy
tongue. Tears were virtually unknown in the more severe cases,
where vitamin A deficiency had dried the eyes and stopped the
flow of mucus from the now-swollen nose.
The discoloured skin of adolescents stood out in stark, well-
defined patches against pale or dark skin, occasionally drying
completely and sloughing off in lumps from their distended
bellies - puffed up by intestinal gases. Even where the skin was
not swollen, legs and arms were bruised or, in extreme cases,
haemorrhaging - blood flowing down the body in fly-attracting
Such extreme cases were, it has to be said, very rare. In the
main, the mercy posts caught people and provided them with the
vitamins, minerals and proteins needed to prevent serious
All too often, however, a parent would wait too long before
making the trip to the mercy post. In such cases, both they and
their child could be close to death before the mercy post was
reached, and the mercy post staff would be forced to hospitalise
the children to allow them to regain their strength.
Every wafer and microchip, every protein wafer manufacturing
machine, and every moment of the staff's time was itemised for
each individual country, the bill to be paid by that country's
government as a condition of the resumption of technological
trade to that country.
Most such bills were paid almost as soon as they accumulated,
for it had been made clear that no trade would resume with any
country until every country affected had requested the resumption
of trade and paid their bill - or had their bill paid for them -
in full. By mid-September, the situation in most countries was
horrendous - only the British mercy posts stood between the
people and mass starvation.
That was when the mercy posts began to close down.
Individual mercy posts had closed before, of course. When one of
the PW-4 protein wafer manufacturers were stolen, that mercy post
had to be closed down until the machine was returned, and its
chip could be replaced. But that only resulted in a single post
shutting down for a week - even the longest such closure had only
lasted two weeks, which had happened when the citizens of Iowa
had problems locating the thief, and attempted blackmailer, in
Then, towards the end of August, strange things began to happen
in the mercy posts on the West coast of the United States.
Like every other mercy post worker in the world, Harry Lloyd was
a volunteer and a British citizen. Because he wasn't leaving
teaching or research work in order to volunteer, Harry was also
being extremely highly paid while he worked on the mercy post -
one of his drinking buddies was a biologist, and so was not being
paid at all.
Scientists and teachers were, officially, discouraged from
volunteering for dangerous tasks such as these - so not only were
they not paid, they also had to pay their own way. Despite this
situation, roughly ten percent of the volunteer workers were
scientists or teachers whose conscience had made the decision for
them - pay in those professions was at such a level by this time
that the economics of the situation didn't have much of an effect
on their decision. A fact of which Wye was well aware.
Harry's job at the moment was to walk the perimeter at the San
Francisco mercy post. Harry thought that the job was pretty much
redundant, considering the sophistication of the alarm systems,
but he tried to perform his assigned task properly and carefully
in any case.
If Jake had been on guard duty at that moment, it's possible
that nothing out of the ordinary would have been noticed - Jake
agreed that the job was redundant, but his response to this
situation was to catch a nap or smoke a joint or two. Harry,
however, was the one on duty.
"What the fuck?" he murmured softly, to himself, as the corner
of his eye detected a stealthy movement. Then, almost
automatically, he reached simultaneously both to trigger the
manual silent alarm and to pick up his dart gun.
When Harry, moving as quietly as his training allowed, reached
the perimeter fence - electrified, of course - his eyes had grown
sufficiently used to the darkness to allow him to see the figure,
hunched over in the darkness, crouching near to the PW-4
Harry hesitated a moment. Though he had been - intellectually -
expecting to find an intruder, emotionally he was unprepared to
actually see somebody here. He recovered before the invader
noticed his presence, however, and - in the near-pitch darkness -
his fingers played quickly over his handlink.
At his braille-given instructions, detection devices were
instantaneously concentrated about the stranger. On the monitors
in the security room, images appeared in various light
frequencies, from infra red through to ultra violet, while the
mercy post computer watched for more extreme frequencies. One of
the monitors showed a haze of radio waves centring tightly on the
intruder - a haze which was unnoticed until the computer's
attention had been focused.
The radio signals were automatically analysed for pattern -
quickly establishing the probable presence of a scrambled verbal
message, and shunting the signal via satellite link to code-
breaking decryption computers back in Britain.
In the meantime, the signals were jammed by the simple stratagem
of blanketing the base with static on the frequencies detected.
Harry saw the night-shrouded figure shake its head in
consternation and tap irritably at a box attached to one side of
its head - the radio receiver/transmitter, he guessed -
When he saw this, Harry's fingers played their security symphony
once again, this time calling for light. A spotlight pierced the
blue velvet air, neatly spearing the intruder. Harry had time to
see that the enemy agent - for such he assumed the stranger to be
- was a deeply black man, whose face was smeared with a burnt
cork matting starkly visible in the glare of the spotlight.
Then the figure rolled out of the spotlight's glare. Uselessly -
the spotlight, now set to track the black man, followed his
movements closely, hugging him as a druid does a tree, as a glove
does its hand.
The intruder rolled, ducked and dived, ran and crawled. Slowly,
then quickly. His reflexes were fast - but the machine's were
infinitely faster. And the machine doesn't tire. And its
movements are not restricted by the presence of electrified
fences or tripwires.
Ten minutes went by before the black man admitted defeat - which
was Harry's cue to move in, cuff him and transfer him to a
holding cell in the security building.
"Who are you?" was the first question Harry asked the intruder.
The stranger was, by this time, seated in an interrogation room.
The room was blanketed in monitoring devices. Devices to monitor
pulse, heartbeat, body temperature, breathing rate. Every non-
invasive device imaginable was built into that room - most were
highly illegal under the US constitution - making the room
essentially an enormous lie detector.
"Who are you?" Harry repeated.
"John Henry Walker," the black man said, in a lifeless, dead pan
Harry paused a moment before asking his next question. "Who do
you work for?" he asked then.
"Nobody - I don't work for nobody," Walker replied.
Instantly, an electronic voice sounded from a loudspeaker in one
of the top corners of the room, "Lie," it said, "Lie."
Harry smiled as Walker started in surprise. "Let's try that
again," Harry said, "Who do you work for - and no lies this
"I'm not saying anything without a lawyer," said John Henry,
belligerently, "I know my rights," he asserted - though with a
note of uncertainty about him.
Harry's smile widened into a truly Wye-ish grin as he said,
"Let's not play games, John - you have no rights here. This
here," his hand took in the room and - by implication - the
entire mercy post complex, "This is British territory.
"British law applies here - and British law recognises no such
things as human rights, only responsibilities of one human being
to another. Since you were planting," Harry broke off, then the
tone of his voice altered as he said, apparently to the ceiling,
"Sol, wake up. Sol, tell me about the device planted by Mister
There was a brief pause before an electronic voice replied,
"Hello, Harry - the device was an explosive."
"Sol, status of device?"
"It had not yet been primed, and has now been defused entirely.
Do you wish a complete technical breakdown?"
"Sol, not right now. Sol - go back to sleep," Harry said. The
inflection of his voice changed subtly as he returned to
addressing the prisoner, "You were planting a bomb." It was a
statement, not a question, but Walker nodded anyway.
Walker looked amazed for a moment. Harry didn't understand, at
first, the source of the man's discomforture. Then, in a flash of
insight, it hit him. "Haven't you ever used a voice-activated
John Henry shook his head, "I've heard of them - there used to
be one in the Pentagon, so I've heard, but..." his voice trailed
off as he shut himself up, leery of giving too much away.
Harry finished the sentence in any case, "...But they weren't as
sophisticated as my little friend, is that right?" He looked over
at Walker, then, "Don't bother to answer - your face gives you
Harry's brow creased slightly in thought, then he said, "Sol,
wake up. Sol, how sophisticated are US voice-activated systems?"
"Hello, Harry," Sol's electronic voice came, "Only one V-A-S was
sold to the US - to the Pentagon - before the trade embargo came
into effect. That machine, which answered to the name 'Lincoln,'
is - of course - no longer in working order.
"Before deactivation, it was capable of responding to simple
voice commands from a specific individual - though only after
being extensively trained on that individual's voice, and only in
a situation of minimal background noise." Harry knew that the
contempt he thought he could hear in Sol's voice was an artifact
of his own mind, but he persisted, nonetheless, in hearing the
contempt as Sol went on, "The machine was one of the fuzzy logic-
based VAS-1 series computers.
"That series was discontinued two months ago, and entirely
replaced by the neural network-based VAS-2 series, of which I am
"Sol, that's enough - go back to sleep," Harry said, hastily. To
Walker, he said, wryly, "You've got to shut him up, otherwise
he'd talk for hours."
Walker's face was showing some small traces of the shock he
felt. Harry could see the emotional conflict - loyalty and
discretion fighting a losing battle against curiosity - writ
large on the negro's face. Then John asked, "How come that kind
of obscure information is stored in this computer - or does it
have the history of its own machines built in to its database?"
Harry laughed, shaking his head, "No - Sol has virtually no
information built in to him. Whenever he wants to know something,
he looks it up. His short-term memory is here, but his long-term
memory - which includes his reference material - is all back home
in Britain. Through Sol," Harry went on, "I have access to the
sum total of human knowledge - I can ask him any question and
he'll be able to answer it.
"Not," he corrected himself, "Necessarily the correct answer -
and Sol is not of reasoning-level intelligence, so his answers
will not be of his own invention - but he'll almost certainly be
able to obtain one or more answers from the library database."
Seeing Walker's disbelieving expression, Harry asked, "Do you
want to try him out?" The prisoner nodded, so Harry said, "Sol,
wake up." ("Hello, Harry") "Sol, listen to Mister Walker. Ask
your question," he said to the American.
Walker thought for a moment, then said, "'Does God exist?'"
Harry grinned a Wye-like grin again as he said, "Sol, answer
Mister Walker's question."
The computer paused for two or three seconds, then began, "There
are five hundred and thirty-eight thousand, seven hundred and
nineteen passages which would appear to have a bearing on your
question - would you care to narrow down the search, Mister
Walker, or should I simply start reading from the first passage?"
Walker blinked twice, then looked Harry in the eye. "It it
serious?" he asked.
"Computers are always serious, John," Harry said, "Perhaps you'd
better make your question a little more specific."
"May I make a suggestion, Mister Walker?" came Sol's voice.
Walker started again in surprise, then said,
"Sure...er...Sol...what do you have to say?"
"Only that people have asked this question - and related
questions - very often before, and the most common method of
initially narrowing down the field of search has been to define
your terms a little more precisely. For example, what do you mean
by 'God?' If I knew which particular god you were talking about,
perhaps I would be of more use."
The American mulled this over a moment, then nodded his head,
"Good idea - by 'God' I mean the Christian God."
"As defined in the Old or New Testament?" asked Sol.
"Both," said Walker.
"Very well," the computer replied, "The range of articles is now
narrowed down to only fifty four thousand, six hundred and thirty
"'Only' he says," muttered Walker.
"Sol," broke in Harry, "Exclude all articles which do not come
to a definite conclusion one way or the other."
"Yes, Harry," said the computer, "sixteen thousand, one hundred
and three articles remain."
"Sol, now exclude fictional passages," Harry continued, "And
works which source or are otherwise derived from works already in
the selected list."
"Yes, Harry - two thousand and seventeen articles remain."
Harry considered a moment, then said, in a flash of inspiration,
"Sol, include only one piece as an example of each argument for
or against the existence of the specified god."
"Yes, Harry - five articles remain."
"Whew," said Walker, "You've narrowed it down to just five
articles. I'm not sure how you did it, but you did it."
"You get used to doing that kind of thing when you work with
computers all the time," Harry said, "It's a knack - but it comes
easily with a little practice."
"I find that hard to believe," Walker said, "But I didn't think
you worked with computers - I thought you were with security."
"Actually, I'm a greengrocer - I only volunteered for this job,"
Harry said, "But every British citizen uses computers every day -
they make for the easiest, fastest and best sources of reference
in existence. Whatever you need to know, the computers can
usually tell you the answer. And even if they can't they can at
least give you some hints to guide you towards finding the answer
"And once you've found the answer, of course, it's on record and
somebody else can access it in the future - to use it, build on
it, contradict it or modify it according to circumstance."
Walker looked surprised, "You mean that you British rely so
heavily on computers?"
"Not rely, exactly, no," said Harry, "We don't rely on them -
they're just tools. Very powerful tools, but tools nonetheless.
Do you want to read the five passages Sol selected?" he added.
"No, that's okay," said Walker, "I'll pass just this once."
"Sol, end search - go back to sleep," Harry said, then added,
"Sol, wake up - store the five passages selected and pipe them to
me next time I ask for general reading matter. Sol, go back to
"I think I'll read them later," he said to the American, "You
never know - they may prove interesting."
Harry waited a little while, looking his prisoner over. Then, he
walked over to a small table and picked up a paperback book-sized
device which seemed to be almost entirely a screen - though there
was no harsh glare coming from it. It was his handlink, and his
fingers played over the keys at its sides.
"Hmmm. John Henry Walker doesn't quite exist," he said to his
prisoner, "But your face matches one 'Henry Walker,' an agent of
the Central Intelligence Agency. You?" he asked, raising his
Walker's face collapsed, then he shrugged, "I don't suppose
there's much point in my denying it?"
"Not much," Harry grinned, "The CIA, eh? Well, well, well." His
expression clouded over as he noticed another item on the report
Slowly, he walked over to the CIA agent, then thumb-rubbed him.
His practised touch could detect a thumbdom fairly easily, and a
little more work had it peeled off, despite the American's
"Your face matches Henry Walker's, but your fingerprints
didn't," Harry said, in explanation, "Instead, they matched the
prints of Thomas Wheeler. A recently executed serial killer." He
shook his head, sadly, as he forced Walker's denuded thumb onto
the plate of a Card.
Sol's voice rang out, "Identity confirmed as Agent Henry Walker,
Harry barely heard the confirmation behind his own considerable
distress at the CIA agent's transparent strategy - stepping into
dead man's hands.
"Dirty, Godless Limey bastard!" were the last words he heard
before the blinding white light which preceded his, almost
grateful, embrace of the blackness of unconsciousness - then
oblivion. As he fell, the graffiti scrawl on the wall before him
burned its way into his brain. His final image was of the
hastily-scrawled legend: All Nigers Are Gay.
The three hoodlums kicked him once. Twice. Three times more -
the final kick to the head sealing the man's fate. And his mind
crazily grappled with irrelevant questions about the illiterate
graffiti. Why not 'Queers'? was his final, pointless thought
before the end. As his mind came to a halt, the thought turned
over and over in his mind, blocking out all else - its clarity
and persistence, despite his situation, would have been
frightening, had there been room in his brain for fear: Why not
Before they ran off, they pinned a hastily-scrawled American
flag to the stranger's back - not even bothering to rob him. They
knew already that Limeys never carried cash on them. Particularly
They were caught quickly, of course.
Unhampered by the niceties of the US constitution, British
agents simply sealed off the area as soon as the ex-pat's
broadcasting heart monitor showed a faltering heartbeat. Over
ninety percent of British ex-pats and citizens abroad now wore
such subcutaneous heart monitors and emergency beacons, at the
request of the British embassy. Ever since the attacks had
started, a week earlier.
The British agents cordoned off the area, then moved inwards and
took the thumbprints of all people, checking for thumbdoms and
taking blood samples for rapid DNA analysis. In the meantime,
another team had travelled immediately to the body and - after
unsuccessful attempts at revival - had swabbed for sweat and
Even though this latest victim was male, an anal check was made
for samples of semen. Rapes of British citizens, both male and
female, were increasing in regularity - the ultimate power-
dominance game. Thankfully, no such traces were found this time.
The British citizen's fingernails did, however, reveal traces of
skin and a strand of hair - a bloody follicle still attached -
which were immediately blood typed, then subjected to DNA
The portable units made light work of these tasks and within
five minutes, when the cordon began to close inwards, a DNA
profile of two of the killers had been assembled.
As the cordon closed and narrowed, the two were located and
identified before being turned over, along with the evidence
against them, to the US authorities for prosecution. A futile
action, since those authorities never charged attackers in these
Since the extension of the interpretation of the fifth amendment
to the US constitution, DNA - as an integral constituent of an
individual - was now regarded as self-incriminating evidence.
Since no individual could be compelled to incriminate himself,
DNA evidence was inadmissible in court. At this time, further
test cases were going through the courts, attempting - by the
same arguments - to define fingerprint and blood typing evidence
to be similarly legally inadmissible as evidence.
Nobody could be sure - at least, not sufficiently certain to
point the finger - but the prevailing opinion was that the change
in public opinion in the US regarding British citizens was in
some way orchestrated by the government of the United States.
It was certainly true that the US government had launched a
massive propaganda campaign complaining of the behaviour of the
British government in assisting only with extreme cases of
malnutrition, while leaving the majority of the American people
to starve. General Wye was, not unjustifiably, blamed as the
effective cause of the famine in the first place.
The only question was whether the vitriol of that campaign was
sufficient to account for the spate of vicious attacks - after
all, the British mercy posts were still heavily utilised.
Before the end of the second week of September, however, over
four hundred British immigrants and visitors had been murdered -
one hundred and seventeen of them were volunteer workers at mercy
Even then, the mercy posts stayed open - even then, there were
thousands of British volunteers. The next stage in the escalating
warfare, however, first showed itself in the Mid-West - the Bible
Tens of thousands of good, God-fearing Americans - joined by
their President - surrounded the mercy posts and prayed for their
all-powerful, perfectly good God to cast down the British sinners
into Hellfire and everlasting torment.
Before long, within an hour of the President's departure from
the scene, the preachers began preaching that 'God helps those
who help themselves.' The crowds, deep in their religious
fervour, their zealotry accentuated by the mental weakness
enhanced by their hunger, surged onwards and onwards in wave
after wave - howling and screaming and calling for blood in the
name of The Greater Glory Of The Lord.
Five hundred US citizens and fifteen Britons died when the
Kansas City mercy post was demolished in an orgy of violence.
It was then that the mercy posts closed throughout the United
Their staff left the PW-4s, their controlling chips disabled, to
rot in the buildings, and left the country entirely. Over every
entrance to the abandoned buildings was pasted a notice:
People of the United States
This trade embargo was imposed following an act of terrorist
murder by your government. Even so, the British government
has tried to prevent the loss of American lives.
Due to continuing acts of terrorism on the part of the
American government and some American people, resulting in
the murder of four hundred and twenty six British citizens
and the persecution of British citizens and ex-pats living
the US, we are forced to abandon your country to its fate.
I sincerely regret having to take this course of action, but
I will not continue risking the lives of British people in
attempts to save the lives of the very people who are
The notice was 'signed' with the words "Absolaam Wye, Dictator
of the British Isles."
In the week that followed, ten thousand American people died as
disease attacked their already-weakened immune systems.
The text of the articles is identical to the originals like they appeared in old ST NEWS issues. Please take into consideration that the author(s) was (were) a lot younger and less responsible back then. So bad jokes, bad English, youthful arrogance, insults, bravura, over-crediting and tastelessness should be taken with at least a grain of salt. Any contact and/or payment information, as well as deadlines/release dates of any kind should be regarded as outdated. Due to the fact that these pages are not actually contained in an Atari executable here, references to scroll texts, featured demo screens and hidden articles may also be irrelevant.