T H E P A S S A G E P T . 1
Written by Greg Kiss.
Like a gas, directed suddenly by aerosol propulsion it dissipates into the fresh night air on the faintest breeze, encircling its prey, exerting its incomprehensible force.
Its effortless interference with the hearts and minds of the populous is acknowledged by the distant stars who wink and nod subtly as it continues to go about its business. The layman would never understand his sudden perception of detachment from his surroundings. The entrepreneur would never conceive how the stars aligned and made his new drink the most popular sensation on the globe. There was of course a simple answer to the conundrum: it was so designed by the antagonist, the anomaly, The Shoemaker.
It knew that it did not have to expend its energy focussing on the corruption of every human entity. Simply pass the poisoned seed to the most powerful bird in the aviary and soon the mighty, the weak, the elderly and young would gobble up as much as they could carry. Blue Cola would serve its purpose in the end and all ends led to The Shoemaker.
The war had begun. The extermination was close at hand.
Great celestial bodies canonised in the company of silence and dust, with ethereal shadows creeping across their broad and bold faces, paralysed in ignominy, are forced to watch the scene unfold unblinkingly. War, the great art and trade of mankind that has punctuated the proponent’s very existence holds its scarred lungs with crazed and bursting capillaries in recognition of the imminent full stop that is set to be cast upon the creased page of the Universe.
Playing host to an invasion of spies, puppets and would-be-protagonists, the Earth rests ill-prepared for the onslaught of a mighty and unknown foe.
The Shoemaker with its immeasurable array of wraithlike senses observes the situation, twisting it this way and that to maximise the advantage, pulling strings, casting influence and lurking in the cold shadows and moonlit pools of his target planet.