***Previous episodes of A Common Enemy can be found on the top menu, or start at A Common Enemy. A little sci-fi in progress. ***
Jeremiah flinched each time a rock hit the AV. While nothing would penetrate the vehicle shell, his sorrow was deep. He remembered seeing a movie when he was a child that in many ways had foretold the planet’s current state. That movie had the rich living in space, the poor like rats on the surface. Here money wasn’t the only necessity to be safe under impenetrable domed cities. One also had to be genetically blessed. No genetic conditions, no contracted diseases, born of genetically cleared and licenced to procreate parents.
He watched the camera feed on the screen. Walking skeletons covered in rags, their eyes sunken and their lips cracked. There was little food and water was rationed. The rabble existed. Jeremiah touched the bio-chip in his neck, wondering how many genetically perfect people had been overlooked in the initial implant process. What of subsistence farmers living in the country villages in African countries, or nomadic people in the Middle East? Had every one of these people been checked, or just those who could afford to go to the reading points? He knew the official line was every single person had been screened, but was he in fact just one of the lucky ones?
The screen zoomed in on a child clutching a piece of bread. This was a rare sight as bread was not generally available to the rabble. In country areas where they could still grow small crops and bake flat bread in fire ovens perhaps, but not in the teeming urban areas. Where had this child come from? He slowed the AV and drew alongside. Jeremiah activated the retrieval gear, the long arm reaching out, the mechanical hands grasping the child. The arm retracted into the holding bay, the child letting out an almighty scream. Once in the holding bay the bio scan ran. The child had no bio-chip, but all preliminary genetic scans were clean. Not enough to identify the child, although the report stated male, four years old, O + blood type and other general biological data Jeremiah wasn’t interested in.
Rosna watched the retrieval from the bridge. The Elengia had worked hard overnight, accessing many computer systems on Earth, including the one running Jeremiah’s AV. Although still working on deciphering the languages, Rosna and her crew could now see the inhabitants of Earth at close range and try to work out the situation. So far there seemed to be major differences between urban and country areas. In several country areas they were observing, the bi-peds were almost living a hunter-gatherer existance. In the urban areas there seemed to be heavily fortified clean areas: the rest were like slums the Elengia had encountered on the Distic world five hundred years ago. Clearly the people were starving. Many were ill or dying. Despite the fact the preliminary scans of the planet had reported a lot of water, these people were collecting a daily ration from designated points.
Palenda appeared at Rosna’s side.
“It seems these slum inhabitants may be useful to us”, he said, “They need help.”
Rosna had a troubled look on her face, one tendril tapping the arm of the chair in a steady beat. “What happened here?”, she asked. “There are signs of a war, a global war. We need to know the weapons used didn’t leave a residue that could harm our people.”
“Why did that vehicle just snatch that child? The computers scanned the child once the child was secured. Why?”
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Random Observations of Life 
Dead Man Walking versus Dead Woman Walking
If, as women, we accept the use of “Dead Man Walking” to describe male politicians we can hardly complain if “Dead Woman Walking” is used to describe a female politician. I don’t consider that sexist per se (although I have other concerns), I consider it the current rough and tumble of politics. Granted, in Julia Gillard’s case it was one in a string of death related insults which in and of itself was highly inappropriate. But sexist? “Dead Man Walking” had been used in describing John Hewson, John Howard and Simon Crean. I found all of those in one quick date with Google. Michael Duffy used the phrase in a headline in March 2009 speaking of several male politicians.
http://twitter.com/bettsie2u/status/462580611249487872
I was certainly one of the people not at all impressed over the red box quail. So not impressed I wrote “A little spotted dick, anyone?“. However, male politicians get called a “dickhead”. I have seen a meme of a modified Abbott head doing the rounds and John Howard was said to be not looking like a dickhead in an article on The Drum.
Given women don’t have a penis, it is a little hard to call us dickheads. I DO NOT condone the red box menu at all, but then I don’t condone calling a Prime Minister a dickhead either. I see the two as equally unnecessary insults.
I have concerns about the use of language in society. I have concerns that vile and nasty language is becoming far too accepted. I ended up in a Twitter debate on this topic when Ben Cubby, Deputy Editor of the Sydney Morning Herald, asked the following question on Twitter.
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