Here is excerpt F (preliminary draft version) of my novel The Grand Oligarchs of Qinsatorix
While the sound of the buzzer was still blinging in the worthy lady's ears, three female Icarian librarians marched in, wearing purple uniforms and carrying trays of books from the Top Secret stack in the Carnegie turret.
“Our High Head Archivist would like to draw your attention to this intriguing diary, Ma'am,” clucked an elderly librarian with a set of silver falsies. “It was published by The Truth and the Essence Press of London in A.D. 1958, and authored by Baron Holinshed Van Gröningen, though that could well be a one off pseudonym.”
Prince Caleb grabbed the book from the old crone's withered hands.
“It's entitled The Secret Diaries (1911-1936) of Karl Pearson, Statistician, Eugenicist, and Fascist,” said the prince. “Who the **** was he?”
“He was the distinguished polymath who founded the first ever university statistics department on Planet Earth,” replied the old crone. “That was in AD 1911 and at University College London where Sir Francis Galton, an extremely ruthless academic, had dreamt up the subject of Eugenics twenty-eight years previously, with the direst of consequences for humankind.”
“The High Head Archivist also managed to micro-neutron this copy an article which a totally daft Anglo-Scottish eccentric self-published in AD 2115 on his extremely archaic website,” said a teenage librarian with a dazzling diamond obloid, “It's entitled C.I.A. Mind Control, MK Ultra, and the Progressive Destruction of the Bourgeoisie (1930-2015).”
Prince Adam scurried over and gave the girl an inappropriately provocative pinch which made her squeal in dismay.
“I'll take a peek at that while I stick pins into my voodoo doll,” he declared.
A middle aged librarian with human-style implants for breasts slapped Prince Adam's face.
“I'll stick pins up your jumper!” she yelled, as she gave Prince Adam a totally disproportionate backhander across his chin. “In the meantime, I would like to recommend a biography for consideration by this highly élite group. It's entitled Sir William Sargant: MK Ultra, Invasive Psychiatry, and Psychological Torture and it was published in 2014, twenty-six years after that cowardly blaggard's death. The author was a leading member of the Council for Non-Spuriously Evidence-Based Psychiatry.”
“How fascinating,” said Prince Hamlet, with a yawn. “I guess I'll take a burble through that one.”
“And I'll bungle my way through this epic saga,” declared Admiral McSporran, grabbing hold of an ancient volume entitled Charles Von Coburg, Queen Victoria's Nazi Grandson.”
“We have a master plan then!” exclaimed Dame Prothesa. “Why don't you guys all beaver away on these bits and pieces for the next hour and fifteen minutes? Then we'll roll in a barrel of honey cider and splice the mainbrace while we're discussing where this is all leading us.”
“Gung ho!” exclaimed Prince Adam, rubbing his smarting face.
The Owl of Fairy Archangels Past past flew in through the round crystal glass window, without breaking or even scratching it. She perched on a wooden lectern, and carefully listened to the readers' thoughts.
So what if the attempts by the early Statisticians and Geneticists to estimate ethnic differences from sample data did lead to a world-wide Eugenics movement and to MK Ultra? pondered Prince Caleb. The populations in America's Deep South, 1930s Germany, and 1970s Sweden would appear to have been particularly beneficially culled.
“The International Eugenics Federation pursued the elimination of 'less fit' races everywhere, you cretin,” screeched the owl, “by resorting to such barbaric techniques as compulsory sterilisation, forced abortions, and the genocide of millions.”
“Whoopsie daisy,” replied Prince Caleb. “So they did!”
Meanwhile, Prince Adam was focussing on the history of the C.I.A.'s mind control program.
This bit sounds a touch extravagant, he thought, rubbing his sore chin. MK Ultra mind controlled numerous U.S. and Canadian citizens, including thousands of basically sane children in orphanages and fake mental hospitals, by damaging their brains with electric shocks, pumping them full of toxic psych meds, curtailing their sensory perceptions by locking them inside strange space suits, and sexually abusing them for good measure. How on Earth can supposedly civilised human beings behave like that?
“Those bozos even mind controlled future rock stars and politicians,” wailed the owl, “so that they could negatively influence their victims' subliminal messages to the proletariat.”
“Not to forget the potential assassins, mass murderers, and predatory pedotwats,” added Dame Prothesa, with a snigger. “The scopolamine usually worked best for them. It turned them into brainless zombies.”
“I do wonder about all the predatory pedotwat politicians of that era,” replied the owl. “Maybe they were paid guinea pigs for MK Ultra during their misspent youth.”
Meanwhile, Prince Hamlet was glancing through the biography of the London-based psychiatrist William Sargant.
How scarymongerfying, pondered Hamlet. During the late 1950s, this turkey visited the C.I.A. financed MK Ultra Head Boffin Ewen Cameron in his Sleep Room in Montreal. When he returned to his makeshift ward under St. Thomas's Hospital, Dr. Sargant incorporated many of Dr. Cameron's evil mind control techniques into his psychiatric treatment regimes. Jesus wept! If I was crazy, I'd prefer eternal Hell fire to that sort of shit.
“William Sargant thereby changed the course of British clinical psychiatry for many decades to come,” groaned the owl. “By the turn of the century over a fifth of the British population were being mind controlled by their physically damaging, enzyme poisoning psych meds which dumbed down their intelligence and reduced their life expectancies by up to twenty years.”
“That Charlie Von Coburg tosser was also a spiffing bloke,” added Admiral Sporus McSporran, rubbing his crotch. “He helped Hitler to brutalize the entire mentally disabled population of Das Vaterland. We need more characters of his Ilk in the battlefleet.”
The Owl of Fairy Archangels Past leapt onto the admiral's head and scratched his elephantine face from his ear to his snout with her eagle-like talons. That good deed for the day accomplished, she beat a hasty retreat through the crystal glass window without an Auf Wiedersehen or a goodbye.