Rock Music Books – Opher’s Best

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Opher Goodwin’s Top Rock Music Books

Here is a list of some of my top Rock Music books (all available in paperback or kindle and some in Hardback):

Phil Ochs On Track: Every Album, Every Song  Phil Ochs was the ‘The Prince of Protest’ in the sixties. The only real rival to Bob Dylan, he was the archetypal Greenwich Village topical songwriter. Whether protesting the Vietnam War or campaigning for civil rights, workers’ rights and social justice, Phil was always there. Phil was the man to take up causes, write songs, play at rallies and even risk his life. His clear voice and sense of melody, linked with his incisive lyrics, created songs of beauty and power. As his career progressed, with lyrics and music becoming more highly poetic and sophisticated, he still never lost sight of his cause. Towards the end of the sixties he joined with the YIPPIES in protest against the Vietnam War. But idealism became Phil’s downfall. He was an idealist who could see no point in continuing if he was unable to make the world a better place. Phil lost all hope and descended into depression, which, along with excessive alcohol consumption, led to his suicide in 1976. Shortly before he took his life, Phil asked his brother if he thought anyone would listen to his songs in the future. Well here we are; sixty years later, still listening. The songs of Phil Ochs are every bit as relevant as they ever were and they are making the world a better place!Phil Ochs On Track: Every Album, Every Song: Amazon.co.uk: Opher Goodwin: 9781789523263: Books
Ian Dury On Track: Every Album, Every Song Paperback – 25 Sept. 2025  “We only ever get glimpses of Ian Dury; nothing is as it seems. From irascible rogue to national treasure, pop star to social commentator, cockney geezer to artist, he was a man greater than the sum of his parts. Part teddy boy, part punk, part vaudeville act; he was unique. The music that emanates from this powerful personality echoes the heart and drive of their complex creator.
   Dury began his career as a frontman with post-punk outfit Kilburn And The High Roads, but had his greatest success with backing band The Blockheads, which featured Chis Jankel and Wilko Johnson at various times. He found true commercial success with the albums New Boots And Panties and Do It Yourself. Dury went on to a critically acclaimed solo career and worked with The Blockheads again on the 1997 album Mr Love Pants. He also had a slew of non-album hits, especially the UK number one ‘Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick’.
   In this book, Opher Goodwin dissects his albums and songs to tease out their spirit and reveal the inspirations behind them. 
   This is Ian Dury: a Blockhead, a genius.”		Ian Dury On Track: Every Album, Every Song: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781789523744: Books
Leonard Cohen  On Track: Every Album, Every Song Paperback – 30 May 2025  An enigma, Leonard Norman Cohen was possibly the most improbable bohemian intellectual songwriter/singer in music history. He was certainly the working-class hero, the peoples’ poet, the suicidal lamenter of doom and the purveyor of popular songs. But the truth is even more complex. Throughout his life, there were juxtapositions of the most unlikely life choices and influences. To have fashioned a mishmash of ideas, styles and influences into a successful, long-lasting musical career is nothing short of amazing. He blended secular, mystical, sexual and religious themes into ambiguous poetic tapestries and devised an intricate, unique musical style. He possessed a deep baritone voice that, although mesmerising, was sometimes in danger of sounding monotonous. Leonard was able to fuse these elements into a distinctive amalgam that somehow worked on many levels. He did not look the part, play the game or conform to any rules, but Leonard touched hearts and minds all over the world, while writing some remarkable songs, including ‘Halleluyah’ and ‘Suzanne’. Focusing equally on his popular early albums, his more experimental mid-period and his final, late-career renaissance, this book analyses and interprets every album and every individual song to shed light on the phenomenon of Leonard Cohen.Leonard Cohen On Track: Every Album, Every Song: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781789523591: Books
The Beatles – White Album – rock Classics    Arguably the greatest album by the best rock band ever, The Beatles – also known as The White Album – proved to be a watershed recording. Coming as it did, after manager Brian Epstein’s death; after the disillusionment with the Maharishi; in the middle of the break-up of long-term relationships, and following on from the psychedelic masterpiece Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, it heralded changes of style and the marked the start of the falling apart of the previously tight-knit group.The album’s diversity and creation are analysed and its background and dynamics revealed. This extraordinary double album reflects a remarkable time and period. As the sixties came to an end, so too did the band. They mirrored the times they lived in. The album also followed on from their first highly criticised TV flop Magical Mystery Tour, the success of the first global satellite triumph of ‘All You Need Is Love’, and the highly ambitious Apple business venture. George Martin ducked out and ructions broke out between band members. But, among all the pressures and stress they found time to write and record an incredible array of songs; songs that synergised into a spectacularly successful album with a fascinating story. This is the tale of every track and every facet of this remarkable record.The Beatles: White Album – Rock Classics: Amazon.co.uk: Opher Goodwin: 9781789523331: Books
Bob Dylan – Bringing It All Back Home – Rock ClassicsOne of the most pivotal albums in the evolution of rock music, few other recordings have had more impact than the 1965 Bob Dylan classic, Bringing It All Back Home. In the mid-sixties, rock music was about to explode into psychedelia, prog and jazz fusion. Meanwhile, Bob Dylan had made an enormous impact on songwriting with his first four all-acoustic albums. He had created a different way of writing songs, by embracing themes such as civil rights, anti-war protests and social issues, which lifted the subject matter from teenage love songs to serious poetic works of art, rife with symbolism. But with Bringing It All Back Home, Dylan shot his lyrics through with surreal hard-edged beat poetry while the music contained both acoustic songs and blues-based loud electric rock. It alienated him from many of his peers in the folk community but nonetheless contains classic cuts like ‘Mr Tambourine Man’ ‘Maggie’s Farm’ and ‘Subterranean Homesick Blues’. Dylan had opened the door to experimentation. The Beatles, The Stones, The Who, The Doors, Hendrix, Pink Floyd and Cream all listened and responded. In its wake, Songwriting rose to new heights with few boundaries. After Bringing It All Back Home, music was forever changed.Bob Dylan Bringing It All Back Home: Rock Classics: Amazon.co.uk: Opher Goodwin: 9781789523140: Books
Captain Beefheart On Track: Every Album, Every SongCaptain Beefheart (Don Vliet) was undoubtedly the creator of the most bizarre and wonderful music. A child prodigy sculptor, he applied his artistic approach to music, creating ‘aural sculptures’. He befriended Frank Zappa in High School, collaborating on a teenage rock opera and sci-fi/fantasy film entitled Captain Beefheart vs The Grunt People. It was from this film that Don took his name. Of course, a magic character had to have a magic band. Captain Beefheart On Track: Every Album, Every Song : Opher Goodwin: Amazon.co.uk: Books
Roy Harper On Track: Every Album, Every SongRoy Harper must be one of Britain’s most undervalued rock musicians and songwriters. For over fifty years he has produced a series of innovative albums of consistently outstanding quality. He puts poetry and social commentary to music in a way that extends the boundaries of rock music. His 22 studio albums 16 live albums, made up of 250 songs, have created a unique body of work. Roy is a musician’s musician. Roy Harper: Every Album, Every Song (On Track): Amazon.co.uk: Opher Goodwin: 9781789521306: Books
In Search of Captain Beefheart – A Rock Music MemoirThe sixties raged. I was young, crazy, full of hormones and wanting to snatch life by the balls. There was a life out there for the grabbing and it had to be wrestled into submission. There was a society full of boring amoral crap and a life to be had in the face of the boring, comforting vision of slow death on offer. Rock music vented all that passion. This book is a memoir of a life spent immersed in Rock Music. In Search of Captain Beefheart: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781502820457: Books
Bob Dylan 1962 to 1970 On Track (Decades)  Bob Dylan is the magician who sprinkled poetic fairy dust on to the popular music of the early sixties and his songwriting sparked a revolution and changed rock music forever. The diminutive poet/singer claimed he was merely a ‘song and dance man’ but Dylan altered popular music from intellectually bereft teenage rebellion into a serious adult art form worthy of academic study. Bob Dylan 1962 to 1970 On Track (Decades) : Opher Goodwin: Amazon.co.uk: Books
Neil Young 1963 to 1970: Every Album, Every Song    In the realm of singer songwriters, few have been as influential as Neil Young, whose music has always been creative and relevant throughout six decades. Neil is a chameleon for whom boundaries of genres do not exist. He has delved into folk, country, r&b, rock ‘n’ roll, grunge, hard rock, electronic and pop and made them his own.Neil Young 1963 to 1970: Every Album, Every Song: Amazon.co.uk: Opher Goodwin: 9781789522983: Books
Nick Harper: The Wilderness Years    Nick speaks!  I first met Nick when he was a young child and over the years he has become a close friend. This book illuminates the genius that I feel is Nick Harper and is designed to accompany ‘The Wilderness Years’, a trilogy of vinyl albums. Nick talks candidly about many aspects of his music and career. I include, with Nick’s permission, the lyrics of all the songs featured in the trilogy. There are also many photos dating from his childhood to the present day.Nick Harper: The Wilderness Years: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9798815185630: Books
Here There and Everywhere – A novelI was in conversation with a good friend who, like me, is a Rock Music fanatic. We have both been everywhere, seen everyone and have had our lives hugely affected by music. However it is not who you have seen but what you failed to catch that you dwell on. I said to him that it would be brilliant if we had a time machine and were able to go back and see all the major events in Rock history; Robert Johnson play in the tavern in Greenwood, Elmore James in Chicago, Elvis Presley in the small theatres, The Beatles in Hamburg, Stones in Richmond, Doors in the Whiskey, Roy Harper at St Pancras Town Hall…………….. and a thousand more. Then I realised that I could. The Blues Muse: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781518621147: Books
Rock Routes – A History of Rock MusicThis charts the progress of Rock Music from its beginnings in Country Blues, Country& Western, R&B and Gospel through to its Post Punk period of 1980. It tells the tale of each genre and lists all the essential tracks. I was there at the beginning and I’m still there at the front! Keep on Rockin’!!Rock Routes: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781514873090: Books
Opher’s World Tributes to Rock Geniuses  If you like Rock Music you’ll love this! – 195 tributes to Rock Acts of Genius. – Each one a gem of a picture. You’ll find out what makes them so brilliant and a lot more besides! This is the writing of a true passionate obsessive. These are Ophers tributes to Rock geniuses – loving pen-pictures to all the great artists and bands that have graced the screens, airways, our ears, vinyl grooves and electronic digits – (well a lot of them anyway). These tributes make you thrill to all the reasons why they were so great.Opher’s World Tributes to Rock Geniuses: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781508631279: Books
537 Essential Rock Albums  – Pt. 1This is not your average run through an opinionated list of somebody’s favourite albums. This is much more than that. By the time you get to the end of the book you will be in no doubt as to the type of person who has written this and what their views are. This is Opher at his most extreme and outspoken. He’s been there at the front through thousands of shows, purchased tens of thousands of albums and listened to more music than seems possible to fit into a single life.537 Essential Rock Albums – Pt. 1 The first 270: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781502787408: Books

The Cleansing – 27 – Chapter 12 into Chapter 13

Posted on by Opher

Unlikely heroes and alien political intrigue emerge as the tale unfolds:

Fresh from her encounter with Grrndakegra Chameakegra sat herself at her station to send a message. The rage still flowed through her and she needed to expunge it.

She sat in front of her comulator and pressed record. Her image hung in the air above the tridee. She studied her angry white scutes and began:

‘Beheggakegri, you slimy piece of dreyfus shit, I have the evidence of what you and Grrndakegra have been up to.’ She waved her communicator in the air. ‘I have an interview with Commander Loj at lunar and more from Minorian commanders at various camps. It’s all here.’ She tapped her communicator with a claw and allowed the camera to linger on her bleached face. ‘You two have been actively undermining my plan and I have the evidence.’ She glared into the camera. ‘I’m sending a full report of your sabotage through to Judge Booghramakegra.’ She leaned into the camera so that her face loomed menacingly out with fluorescent green eyes flashing spears of venom. ‘You are mince!’ Then she flicked the record off.

Chameakegra thought about all the advice she’d ever been given. Never do anything in haste. Never send a message to anyone when consumed by anger. Then she calmly and deliberately pressed send.

For a minute she stared at the tridee, her mind racing. Was this the moment to go nuclear and actually send the evidence through to Booghramakegra? Was it enough? Should she gather more?

At least it was all out in the open. Her claw hovered above the keypad. She hesitated.

By the time Ron was prepared for his first address to the new assembly the media was back up and running. Getting TV back was considered essential by Chameakegra. She saw it as a calming influence.

Ron mounted the podium and calmly surveyed the delegates spread out before him. There wasn’t one he recognised. They had all been appointed by Chameakegra and the combined computer power of the Neff, wherever that was. Somehow he had to put his faith in that. And, despite a few residual qualms he thought he had. This was certainly no time for doubt. Not when he was facing thousands of delegates and a world-wide audience of billions.

For a moment Ron froze. The fears rose up in him. What if the words did not come?

He was not used to public speaking; a few dozen in a hall at a book signing was his limit if you didn’t count a wedding speech or two. Yet here he was standing in front of a couple of thousand delegates in the old UN building in New York. At the front were all the department heads responsible for managing the various branches of government. Behind them a mass of delegates of all shapes, sizes, colours and cultures. He looked down the aisle. There were the camera crews with their equipment all trained on him. Nobody knew who he was. This was their first look at the new boy on the block. This speech was going live right round the globe. Every word he uttered would be analysed. Billions of people were probably going to judge him on what happened in the next hour. He had no notes and decided against the autocue.

There was complete silence. All eyes were on Ron. They were already weighing up this strange little man who had come out of nowhere – studying his straggly hair and grey beard, his podgy frame and slightly crumpled cheap suit. He hadn’t even tightened his tie. Was this really the man who was going to lead everybody to a new future? It didn’t look very likely.

The pressure on Ron was immense.

Strangely he felt completely calm and confident. He knew exactly what he was going to say. He turned to face the world.

Chapter 13 – Deception and Vision

Beheggakegri was incensed. He kept rereading the short message from Chameakegra as if he couldn’t quite believe it. His crest was fully raised but a multitude of colours raged across his scutes as he attempted to think of a way forward. That infernal Giforian would be the death of him. He could feel is twin hearts labouring as his blood pressure rose dangerously high. His medikit kicked in with a shot to calm him down, but that didn’t do too much. His confidence had evaporated. Had he overreached? His anxiety levels were dangerously high.

What could that Judge actually do? She didn’t actually have jurisdiction over UFOR. What if Chameakegra or Judge Booghramakegra did send out there evidence? Had that stupid Minorian implicated him? Couldn’t he just push the blame on to Grrndakegra? What had the stupid fool told her? Did they have enough to call it a conspiracy or could he get away with blaming it all on Grrndakegra? The questions buzzed around in his head like maddened zubby flies.

How should he respond? The rudeness of the message was such that any formal response should involve a severe reprimand, probably sufficient to warrant a demotion or sacking. But if he went down that path and she had evidence of conspiracy that could rebound on him. But if he chose to ignore it then he was displaying guilt and weakness. Which was worse?

For once Beheggakegri felt conflicted.

Then he made a decision: he would go the middle way, reply with a severe rebuke, tell her she is being stupid and warn her not to be so rude?

‘My fellow delegates, new governors,’ he looked directly into the cameras, ‘and citizens of the new world, my name is Ron Forsythe and I have been appointed President and Planetary Steward.’ He paused, looking resolute, projecting more authority than he had ever done in the whole of his life. A huge burst of confidence welled up inside him sweeping all doubts aside. He knew the words would find him. There was no need to search for them. He was the President and he aimed to make them know it. It was essential that he did – so much depended on him coming through. He had to trust in Chameakegra and sell her vision to the world. There was no room for doubt. He had to be 100%.

‘We stand on the brink of a new age. We have pulled back from complete disaster. Our alien friends have arrived to assist us to escape that horrible fate and move forward into a new age.’ The silence was thunderous. The delegates were watchful and sceptical. Most of them, just like him, felt they were impostors, brought in to do what the Federation wanted them to do. He leaned forward and peered out at the world. His audience extended far beyond the delegates in the hall and all of them were far from sure. His job was to convince them. ‘I aim to ensure that we grab this lifeline with both hands.’

Unfazed by the lack of response Ron pressed on. He knew exactly what he needed to do; his mind was crystal clear. ‘Together with our Federation friends I have been working through an exciting vision for the future.’

Ron looked round and gestured to Chameakegra who was lurking in the background. He waved her forward. A murmur ran around the silent hall. All the delegates had been appointed by their new overlords but that did not mean that they trusted them yet. They certainly had not had the close daily contact that Ron had. The Giforian was still viewed with great suspicion by most people. The horrible scenes of the abductions were fuelling distrust. Even many of these delegates saw them as invaders who were pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes. If the delegates didn’t believe then how could anybody else?

Ron reached for Chameakegra’s claw and held it aloft. He could only raise it to Chameakegra’s shoulder height but it achieved its aim. ‘This is Chameakegra. She is the Commander of a spacecraft that travels through the depths of hyperspace – something that we can only speculate about. Chameakegra is one of two commanders who have been given the task of helping us save ourselves.’

Chameakegra stood awkwardly by his side not knowing quite where this was going. They certainly hadn’t rehearsed this. She had to trust Ron. A yellow awkwardness flowed over her scutes as she stood beside this little Hydran. Neff had selected him. Now she had to give him her trust. ‘When I first met Chameakegra I saw her as an alien lizard, part of a conquering set of invaders. She talked to me and shared a vision of the future. I watched her talking in her broadcasts and I could not bring myself to believe her. But she persevered. She told me she’d seen something in me and that was why she thought I was suited to this role. She continued to share that vision, putting flesh on the bone, until I could see it too. She spent time with me until I learnt to understand her mannerisms and feelings; until I came to realise that she really meant what she said. She had a vision for how we humans could be and she is trying to make it come true.’

He let go of Chameakegra’s claw, stepped forward and gripped both sides of the podium ignoring the cameras and peering round at the massed delegates.

‘I am a writer; a nobody. Everyone can see that. I am no politician let alone President. But I am here. I see myself as a bridge to the future. Just a bridge. When you have all made that journey to the other side I will no longer be of any use. But I can get you across.’

Ron stared the silence into defeat.

‘To understand where we need to go we have to first understand where we’ve been and where we were going. We have to recognise it and accept the reality of it. We have to change the path we were going down because that way spelt disaster. We have to find a better way.’ He gestured towards Chameakegra. ‘This is our crossroads. This is the better way.’

They might not have been applauding but they were listening. Ron had more charisma than anybody had expected and what he said made sense.

‘The world was in a death loop,’ Ron asserted, ‘a repeating cycle of escalating catastrophe – a cycle of uglier and uglier wars with nastier and nastier weapons – a cycle of endless ravaging of nature producing greater pollution and a climate change that would have been catastrophic – a loop of endless unrestrained greed in which we spawned billionaires and trillionaires while condemning billions to terrible poverty – a loop of tribal racism, violence and hatred, of gangs, drug abuse, sectarian extremism and crime. It doesn’t take a genius to follow that to its conclusion. We were steadily, inexorably heading towards the exit.’

Ron stood centre stage and dared anybody to contradict him. Rapt silence. But it was a positive silence. At least they were listening to him.

‘We had lost faith in all political parties, institutions and the media. We were being fed a daily diet of lies, conspiracy and propaganda. The billionaires controlled the media and ran things to benefit themselves, electing useless buffoons and populist self-servers. We were being led by narcissists, psychopaths and sociopaths and could not catch a glimpse of a competent leader capable of leading us out of this quagmire.’

Ron stopped again. He reached once again for Chameakegra’s claw and raised her arm once more, drawing her forward, up to the lectern.

He looked up at Chameakegra admiringly as she stood beside him. ‘It took an objective outsider with intelligence, a clear understanding, the scientific and technological means coupled with a clear vision, to help us crawl out of the grave we were digging for ourselves.’ He looked directly into the cameras and addressed the whole world. ‘Chameakegra provided that objectivity and vision.’

Slowly and deliberately he pronounced each syllable: ‘I    trust    her.’

‘This, ladies and gentlemen, whether you like it or not, is our only hope for the future.’ He shook Chameakegra’s claw in a sign of unity and victory. ‘I urge you to trust her too; to give her your backing and work hard to make her vision real.’

‘Together, Federation and Earth, can forge a better future. We can banish the scourges that have crippled us throughout our history. I say to you – back Commander Chameakegra and fight for a world without war and division, without violence and hate, without cruelty and pollution, without poverty and unrestricted greed, a world with a future.’

There was actually a ripple of applause.

‘The Federation offers us the science and technology to create that better future. They have temporarily removed the minority who were responsible for creating much of our misery. They will be rehabilitated and returned as wholesome, well-adjusted citizens. This isn’t an invasion, a take-over or a bid for control; this is our last chance… our last chance.’

‘Let’s not blow it.’

Ron stepped back from the podium. For a moment the silence remained then, first as a dribble, then a dam burst, and a surge spread around the hall, soon every member was on their feet clapping.

Ron smiled and nodded.

He’d passed the audition.

The Cleansing – 26 – Chapter 11 into Chapter 12

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The political intrigue between aliens mirrors that to be found in human societies:

Chameakegra settled for checking the lunar facilities first. Finding time to fit everything in was proving difficult. She needed to be in ten places at once. An army of Xerc engineers were working on the facilities, burrowing deep into the moon’s substrate, creating rooms, facilities and corridors sufficient to house a small city, necessary to house and treat all the excised Hydrans. By the standards of the Federation, this was not too daunting a task. They had all the tools and materials to facilitate the operation. With the technology available this should not have taken too long to get up and running.

An army of psychiatrists were at hand. Behind the scenes Judge Booghramakegra had lubricated the moving parts to assemble the best.

Chameakegra was greeted at the entrance by loj, a large Minorian. She was familiar with species; Graffa, her second in command on the Neff was a Minorian. He’d always impressed with his calm amphibian manner and efficiency. She was expecting the same.

Loj began the tour, leading her through completed corridors, showing off the idle lavish facilities and introducing staff. It was only when Chameakegra enquired about the date for the facility to be up and running that she began to get the highly aromatic reek of a deceased quiw. Loj began to show signs of agitation and Chameakegra noticed her dousing herself from her hydrating glands. Something was up.

Back in Loj’s office Chameakegra cornered her. ‘Right Loj,’ she demanded, ‘what is going on?’ It came spilling out.

That’s when the real tour began. Roughly hewn corridors, empty rooms, no facilities, Xerc’s standing around with little work being carried out.  It did not take too much to piece it together. They were on a go slow. Loj fired excuse after excuse, unexpected rock formations, instability, cracks, and fissures. None of it made sense and Chameakegra could plainly see Loj’s embarrassment. When asked directly if she was acting on orders from Beheggakegri or Grrndakegra she prevaricated.

Chameakegra returned filled with a seething fury. She had got nowhere and could see that her whole project was being deliberately sabotaged and there was little she could do about it.

Next up were the temporary camps, only intended to house the Hydrans for a short while as they were shuttled off to be treated. She toured the cramped, squalid conditions with their listless inmates, squabbling, infighting and sullen resentment boiling up into hate and fury. Hardly conducive to the rehabilitation she had planned. Nobody could tell her anything. The squalid conditions were a hotbed for everything she was fighting against.

This wasn’t disheartening; this was monumentally horrendous.

Back on the Neff she sat for a moment. Something had to be done. First Booghramakegra. She needed putting in the picture. Quickly her claws rattled across the keyboard filing a report of what she had witnessed along with her suspicions. Then the communicator.

‘Grrndakegra, we need to talk.’ With that she shut down and sat back in her pexi her scutes and crest a deep green sign of outrage.

Chapter 12 – A Reckoning

Ron was a writer, a man who was used to studying people, who was familiar with emotions, psychology and all manner of human behaviour. Understanding character was his trade. But dealing with human beings was one thing; dealing with completely unknown alien reptiles was quite another.

His regular meetings with Chameakegra were beginning to pay dividends. Ron felt that he was beginning to get the measure of her. Despite his initial sense of outrage at feeling he was being used he couldn’t help but start to melt. As he grew more familiar with her mannerisms he began to read her more. What he was becoming more and more certain about was that she was sincere. Slowly his anger melted away to be replaced by a grudging respect. He believed her. He was beginning to be able to read the emotions displayed on her scaly face and interpret the colours that flowed across her skin. He still could not figure out why she had chosen him but, though he kept a small element of doubt alive, he was becoming convinced that she believed what she was saying. She wanted that bright future for them.

That left Ron with a dilemma.

He felt torn.

If Chameakegra believed in him and felt he was the man for the task; if she had a viable vision for the future, one that he could buy into, then wasn’t that worth fighting for? What had he got to lose? Despite the violent scenes he was seeing perhaps it was just as she was saying – a necessary means to an end? Ron was at war with himself but maybe, just maybe it was time to put aside his doubts and fears and fully buy into the dream? That’s what his gut was telling him.

Chameakegra was fuming. Her scutes ran with livid green outrage bleeding into white fury.

Grrndakegra sat back looking supremely relaxed in her pexi. Somehow Chameakegra had kept her composure as she led her through the Neff to her private quarters; she’d even offered her a drink of synth, now Grrndakegra’s total lack of concern was needling her. She had been so sure she could hold it together now she wasn’t so certain after all.

Chameakegra sat opposite Grrndakegra and poured herself a sizeable synth from the servo then sat back, took a deep breath and tried to control her feelings.

Grrndakegra continued to watch her closely, her scutes moving between a thoughtful pink and mauve amusement. She was waiting for what was coming.

‘Where’s this coming from?’ Chameakegra finally asked, fixing Grrndakegra with her flashing green eyes while slowly sipping her synth. ‘It’s Beheggakegri behind this, isn’t it?’

Grrndakegra tried to hide it but Chameakegra noticed a hint of red annoyance creep into Grrndakegra’s scutes.

‘Where’s what coming from?’

Chameakegra glared at Grrndakegra a distinct white rage stealing across her crest.

‘Don’t give me that shit. I’m not stupid. I’ve just come back from the lunar facility after an interesting tour with our friendly Minorian. Loj did her best but she couldn’t hide it forever, could she?’

Grrndakegra sipped her synth and tried to brazen it out. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ her beige scutes displaying a lack of concern.

Chameakegra nodded allowing the white rage to settle over her thorax. It did not hurt for Grrndakegra to know how furious she was. ‘You know exactly what I mean.’ The cold, deliberate delivery gave the words a cutting edge.

Grrndakegra shrugged.

‘I did a tour around the camps,’ Chameakegra continued in measured tone. She left it hanging.

Grrndakegra sipped her synth insolently but Chameakegra could plainly see some yellow annoyance or awkwardness displaying on her scutes. She might feign a lack of concern but inside she was feeling something.

‘Is this some underhand ploy that you and Beheggakegri have dreamed up?’

‘Chameakegra,’ Grrndakegra purred, in a condescending tone, ‘you have to be realistic. These Hydrans are space vermin. They can no more be turned from greed and violence than Beheggakegri can forego his dainties. There’s something deep in their DNA. You’re not going to fix it with all your restructuring and namby-pamby therapy. It runs too deep.’

Chameakegra studied her fellow Giforian with an olive burst of contempt. ‘I never figured you as one of Beheggakegri’s cretinous stooges.

Grrndakegra produced a burst of white anger, like a button had been pressed and some dam inside her head had burst. ‘I’m nobody’s fool and I’m nobody’s stooge,’ she snarled rising to her feet in fury.

Chameakegra stared up at the Giforian towering over her with her crest fully raised and waves of white anger flowing over her scutes. She sipped her synth in a show of indifference while showering the Giforian with disdain, the olive green deepening into a brown shade. ‘That’s exactly what you are.’ The contempt in her voice was thick like cold molasses. ‘You are utterly despicable, worse than that heap of blubber whose anus you are busy licking.’

For a moment it looked as if Grrndakegra, who was now incandescent white from toe to crest, was going to strike her with one of her raised claws. Chameakegra met her gaze and leaned forward, daring her to deliver the blow. ‘You and that piece of drewfus excrement Beheggakegri deserve one another.’

For a moment the claw hung in the air then Grrndakegra turned on her heel, flung the beaker of synth at the wall and stormed out, the portal barely dilating sufficiently to allow her through.

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The Cleansing – 24 – Chapter 10 continued

Posted on by Opher

Little did I realise what ICE were going to be doing in American cities. I was looking into the future:

The camps were full to bursting. Rows of prefabricated huts extruded from some strange alienplastic-like material extended into the distance like some battery hen egg-producing factories. Inside was just as orderly and mechanised in the most sterile manner imaginable. The huts were crammed full of bunk beds made of the same alloy, each equipped with a mattress, single pillow and sheet. The amenities were shared – toilets and wash basins all made of strange alien fabrics. Everything was very basic and austere. They worked and did the job but that was all.

The lack of a perimeter wire was the camps only redeeming feature. The inmates, all dressed in the same single-piece tunics, were contained by an invisible containing barrier. There were no entrances or exits visible. Nothing could come in and nothing went out through that undetectable partition. The alien craft landed vertically into a central reception area. That was the only commerce.

Each massive block was managed by a single lizard who paid scant attention to what was going on inside their domain. Their function seemed largely ornamental. They were there to register a presence and perhaps record what went on. Their one task was to oversee a delivery of bland untextured alien food three times a day. Otherwise they ignored the inmates and what they got up to. In the event of fights they would appear and wait for it to be over, watching with interest. The injured would be removed without any repercussions for the offenders. Even when horrible weapons were constructed and inmates killed nothing was done about it. Law, rules and regulations were left to the inmates to implement. The inmates were left to organise themselves, no attention was paid to the distribution of food, condition of the toilets and wash areas or any form of entertainment. That was also left to the inmates. Once a week bedding was changed, apart from that it was a free-for-all that rapidly descended into a survival of the fittest. A recipe for disaster.

Almost as if someone had designed the kind of pressure cooker likely to explode.

Most of the guards were nine foot Giforians with a smattering of slightly smaller Drefs. They seemed impervious to physical attack, brushing assailants away like flies, and equally impervious to cries for help. If anything they found the antics of their charges either amusing or repulsive. They made no attempt to indulge in any interplay.

Inside the huts no distinction was made between the inmates – rich, poor, famous, criminal, male, female they were all heaped in together, supplied with the same tunics and left to organise themselves. It proved fertile ground for squabbles, baiting, bullying, rape and intimidation that broke down into regular nasty fights. Some huts were orderly otherswere run by various factions who organised things for the benefit of a ruthless minority. The strongest and meanest prevailed.

Every few minutes more craft would arrive to spill out their cargoes of furious or bewildered people who were crammed in to the over full huts. The strange glassy bunks were pushed closer together and more crammed in. Feeble attempts were made at privacy with sheets pinned up and ‘inmates’ with nothing to do sat listlessly or dozed on their bunks. The basic, tasteless food was picked over and only consumed out of hunger. Entertainment was restricted to a stroll between huts and gossip with fellow inmates. Some tried to keep themselves fit through a fitness regime but most lazed around listlessly and grew increasingly despondent. There were three main topics of conversation: why had they all been singled out? Where were they going? What was going to happen to them?

An air of anger, violence and fear hung over the camps. It was waiting to ignite.

On arrival the newcomers were processed by big lumbering Leff who scanned, cross-checked DNA, chipped, vaccinated and sorted them in a perfunctory manner. They were then roughly led to their new ‘homes’. Most were so stunned by what had happened that they moved through the process in a trance. Occasionally someone would break down into a fit of hysterics or resist, arguing fiercely, shouting, ranting, beating at one of the reptiles or attempting to run away. They were roughly manhandled and brought back into line. It was soon apparent that the lizards were faster and stronger and seemed completely impervious to pleas or attacks. Resistance was futile. The troopers had a job to do and they intended to do it. They carried out their role dispassionately.

The boredom did nothing to lift the air of hostility that gripped the place. There was nobody to turn to for help, nobody to ask, no questions answered. They were left to stew, to wonder why they were here and what was going to happen to them. Conspiracies festered.

The Cleansing – 23 – Chapter 9

Posted on by Opher

I wanted to tap into the wave of populism that is sweeping the country and identify some of the nationalistic patriot tropes. I also wanted to explore the emotional and political dynamics of relationships.

Sci-fi for me is about the life we are living. I just create a different setting within which to explore it.

Chapter 9 – The Meeting

‘Bloody hell,’ Denby squawked as they approached the Ashley. There were crowds outside and it was twenty minutes before they were due to start. He turned to Billy with a look of incredulity on his face. ‘They can’t fucking be here for our meeting, can they?’

Billy shook his head in shock. ‘I wish I’d made a few notes.’

‘You’ll be fine, you daft sod,’ Charlene remarked. ‘You never usually have any trouble spouting your head off. Just tell them how it is.’

Billy had turned puce and looked far from convinced.

‘We’ll all be right behind you,’ Cheryl said, frowning as she looked at the milling crowd outside the pub.

‘Yep,’ Foxy added, ‘a long, long way behind!’

They managed to squeeze in through the door and push their way through the crowd to the bar where they were hemmed in and turned to face the crowd. Billy nervously stood at the front flanked by Charlene and Billy with the others pressing in around them. They had no option but to be squeezed together; the crowd was that tightly packed. There was a loud babble of noise with everybody talking at once. You had to shout to be heard.

‘Right Everyone!!’ Billy shouted. Nobody took the slightest bit of notice. ‘Hello! Can I have your attention?’

‘Up on the bar,’ Charlene hissed in his ear, shoving him towards the counter. Nobby reached over and Denby and Foxy gave him a hoist and Billy found himself up on the bar looking down at the crowd below. It did not take long for the people to notice him. The noise died away.

Billy peered round at a sea of faces packed like a bag of jelly beans. A great wave of nausea welled up inside him but he battled it down.

‘Hmmmph,’ he cleared his throat. ‘Thanks for coming.’ It came out like a squeak. ‘Thank you. Thank you for coming,’ he stammered, his voice stronger. Then, miraculously the panic inside him subsided and he found his voice.  ‘Bloody hell! I didn’t expect so many of you.’ A big cheer went up and he felt himself relax.

‘We’re all here because of the same thing,’ he went on more confidently. ‘We’re here because of these bloody lizards.’ A great roar went up that buoyed him along. ‘They’ve been dragging people away, terrorising families. It’s a bloody tyranny of fear!’

A roar went up. They unanimously agreed. You could see Billy visibly swell as the crowd boosted him.

‘They tell us that it’s for our own good,’ he told them while making it clear that he did not believe a word. A disgruntled boo went around the room. ‘I reckon it’s nothing short of control!’ The crowd liked that. A roar went up around the room. He jabbed his finger accusingly in the air. ‘These bloody lizards are trying to control us! They want us to shut up and for us to roll over!’

By now the crowd were baying. They were lapping this up. This is just what they wanted to hear.

‘I say, enough!’ Billy jabbed.

‘Enough!’ they roared back. ‘Enough! Enough! Enough!’ Punctuating each jab of Billy’s finger.

‘We want our country back!’ Billy shouted.

‘WE WANT OUR COUNTRY BACK!!’ they roared back at him. Billy looked round at the animated crowd. He couldn’t believe it. In no time at all he’d worked them into a frenzy.

It went on with more of the same. He fed them his gripes in short punchy one-liners and they amplified it back at him tenfold. It flowed out of him like lager out of Nobby’s taps.

‘Bloody Ada!’ Charlene exclaimed as they walked back. She was looking at her phone. She looked across at Billy with a startled face. ‘There’s over two hundred thousand hits on the site I put up!’

‘Might need a bigger venue for the next meeting,’ Foxy jested.

Billy looked across at Denby. What the fuck had they unleashed?

‘I reckon we need to be watching our backs,’ Bob remarked dourly. ‘Those fucking lizards are going to be taking a dim view of all this. They’ll be pulling us in with all them others. We’ll be the ones brainwashed!’

That sent a shiver through all of them. Debbie glanced up at the sky as if expecting an alien craft to swoop down out of the heavens and Charlene flashed Billy a worried look. Bob was right. They were putting themselves in the spotlight.

‘Gotta be done,’ Billy stated resolutely, walking with a defiant swagger.

Chapter 10 – Consolidation

Ron was in a quandary. Being rushed off to New York and told he was running the show had thrown him into a complete daze. He felt like he was awake in some weird dream that he couldn’t fight his way out of. Was any of this real? Had the lizards really come? Were they really putting him in charge? Or was this some strange hallucination? Probably someone had slipped some acid into his drink and all this was some great fiction served up by his overheated brain? Perhaps he was really stuck in some kind of Matrix? He was half expecting Keanu Reeves to walk in at any moment. It was too preposterous for words. Anything was more likely than the scenario he was being served up with right now. Yet it seemed real. It felt real. He found himself sitting down and shaking his head to clear the absurdities out, as if a few shakes of the head might bring everything back the way it was before.

Gradually it felt as if he was emerging from a narcotic haze. It was real. He really was here. As Chameakegra began to prime him on what they were going to do it slowly began to dawn on him that he really was here, it really was happening to him and he was being presented with a programme by a bunch of alien lizards, a programme that he actually approved of, from what he had seen of it. He was being asked to take control of a scheme to improve the world, a vision that weirdly aligned itself with his own ideals. Uncanny. Though it was totally ridiculous he was going to have to go along with it. What else could he do? Go and admit himself to the nearest mental asylum?

‘We are prepared to work with you Hydrans to create a better society,’ Chameakegra was telling him. ‘We will supply the means to enable the alterations – the scientific and technological expertise – but it requires a Hydran government to back and implement the changes.’

‘Whoa,’ Ron said, coming out of his trance and raising his hands to slow her down, ‘what changes? What changes are you after me implementing? All I’ve got to go on is that speech you delivered on the TV. I need details.’

Chameakegra’s iridescent green eyes seemed to glow. Ron got the impression that she was finding this amusing. ‘Right,’ she said slowly as if addressing a child. ‘We are looking to generate a global Hydran culture that is well-adjusted, non-violent, compassionate and tolerant. A single global culture that incorporates the richness of the different cultures that are incorporated but one that operates under an overarching philosophy based on equality, fairness and justice. We want a culture that retains the vibrancy and creativity of your species but is rid of the destructiveness. That global culture would set up a new zeitgeist and alter the way Hydrans develop and think.’

‘All very well,’ Ron remarked sceptically, playing along with the illusion as if it was real. ‘That all seems too good to be true. Very idealistic. I’m not even sure it can be achieved.’

Chameakegra studied him with an unflinching gaze. ‘That is what we are hoping to find out.’

Ron peered back at her, no longer intimidated by her size and ferocious appearance. ‘I’m all in favour of non-violence, equality and the rest.’

‘We know.

Ron peered at her questioningly.

‘We’ve carried out the tests. That’s why you are here. You have the qualities and ethics that we are looking for.’

‘But why me?’ Ron bleated.

The Giforian made a mannerism that Ron recognised as a chuckle. The more he was around these lizards the more he was beginning to understand them At least on a superficial level. He was certain that the lizard was amused.

‘I am concerned that Beheggakegri and Grrndakegra are doing their best to undermine your efforts,’ Judge Booghramakegra messaged.

‘I suspect the same,’ Chameakegra messaged back. ‘In fact I’m certain of it.’

‘I would suggest that you look to take charge of the rehabilitation process as soon as possible and look to have an input on the rounding up of the reprobates.’

‘I have limited power. We have a joint command which means that I cannot greatly influence what Grrndakegra is doing and how she is doing it. The lunar facilities are coming along but will take time. We will have to house millions.’

‘Can’t you at least begin to process some of them?’

‘Not really. I have the team of psychologists and psychiatrists you have sent all ready and prepared. They are fully up to speed on Hydran psychology. As soon as I am able I will initiate the process. But until I get the go-ahead that the facilities are ready to receive a batch, my claws are tied.’

‘From what I am seeing the rounding up process is causing a great deal of animosity.’ Judge Booghramakegra seemed very annoyed.

‘That was always going to be the case in the best of circumstances,’ Chameakegra reflected. ‘But I am sure that Grrndakegra is not making it run as smoothly as it might have.’

‘Some of those scenes look dreadful.’ Booghramakegra asserted. ‘Do you want me to press for you taking overall command? I can put some pressure on Beheggakegri.’

Chameakegra considered this. She knew that, despite the judge’s power, there would be a process and Beheggakegri would certainly throw some flujes in the werbez. By the time they got that through the damage would likely be done. The round-up would likely be over apart from minor mopping up. Open conflict with Beheggakegri and Grrndakegra might prove do more harm than good. ‘No, No, leave it for the moment. I shall see if I can’t sort things out.’

‘If you need help just ask. I think this experiment is of the utmost importance.

The Cleansing – 22 – Chapter 8 continued

Posted on by Opher

Even among superior aliens there is political intrigue and emotional dislike, vying for position and ignoring rules and laws. Even with a benevolent take-over of a planet there is an inevitable backlash and populism is not logical.:

‘We are working with your scientists and technologists to improve your knowledge and understanding so that your horizons can be greatly increased.’ She did not add that this knowledge would be restricted until such time as the species were considered worthy. ‘This will have a huge impact on all walks of life, from energy production, transport and infrastructure, to your appreciation of the universe and how it operates.’

She peered out of their screens with a severe frown and green hue of displeasure. ‘You as a race have badly damaged the ecosystems that create stability in the planet, replenish air, water and soil, and ultimately enable all life to prosper. It is an ecosystem that has been billions of years in the making. Nature is not something apart from yourselves as your modern urban lives seem to suggest; it is a vital element in all your existence. Nature nurtures everything. You are part of it and dependent on it. It cannot be allowed to disintegrate. Even if you could live by artificially producing the necessary elements to live, your lives would lack a vital spiritual ingredient that would prevent you from being whole and living a satisfying life’. Her eyes shone with revolutionary zeal. ‘We will restore your ecosystems. For a while stretches of habitat will be protected and all Hydrans will be excluded from those zones to enable the food webs to rebuild. We will aide that recovery.’

Her face softened.

‘As part of this process we will enable new clean energy production technologies and non-polluting mechanisms to upgrade your industries. This will produce a revolution in manufacturing that will benefit all while also protecting your planet.’

Chameakegra drew herself erect and raised her crest, her scales a shimmering effervescence of blue satisfaction and gold authority. She seemed to speak directly to each and every one of them.

‘Fellow humans, we are poised at the edge of a new future, one that is congenial and prosperous for everyone. By the time we leave you there will be a new age, a new future and better life for everyone. We will go forward together.’

The picture faded away to pleasant views of meadows, sunrises and animal life, families playing in the midst of beauty, majestic landscapes and beautiful scenes; all carefully selected to create a positive vibe.

Grrndakegra’s leering face appeared hovering over her tridee messaging. ‘Another masterpiece,’ she remarked jeeringly. ‘I’m sure that’ll help pacify the brutes, make my job a lot easier. Much more of that and we’ll have all the fugitives handing themselves in for reprogramming.’

‘How’s the round up progressing?’ Chameakegra replied, ignoring the sarcasm.

‘Very well,’ Grrndakegra replied, looking smug.  ‘We’re doing a great job. We’ve now run down ninety-five percent of the despicables. We’re hunting down the rest and are winkling them out of the holes they’ve secreted themselves into. My troopers are getting good at extracting them. We’ve had to deal with a number of conspirators who were deliberately helping the fugitives escape. Perhaps you could have a word with your Hydrans about not hampering the cause, or getting in the way of the operation. After all, you could tell them that handing in the criminals is for the greater good. I’m sure they’ll all take notice of you.’ She chuckled mockingly. ‘Failing that you could warn them that we’ll add them to the list. That might do it.’

Chameakegra thought it best not to enquire too much about what was happening to the conspirators. Presumably they were already being added to the lists of those in need of adjustment for their antisocial ways.

‘How are the camps?’

‘Overcrowded, but we’re cramming them in,’ Grrndakegra replied jovially. ‘Always room for a few more.’

‘I hope to get the Lunar facilities completed soon then be can begin work on housing them properly and rehabilitating them,’ Chameakegra said, still attempting to treat Grrndakegra cordially as if she was trying as hard to get things right as she was.

‘I wouldn’t shut down your respiratory tract,’ Grrndakegra grinned, ignoring the question posed. ‘From what I’ve seen most of these dranglers they are well beyond rehabilitation.’

Chameakegra repressed a shudder. Were they on the same team?

‘We’ll see,’ she replied, trying to appear matter-of-fact and unflustered.

‘While you’re at it, I can see the value in painting an idyllic future for these dranglers but from where I am sitting I’m not seeing it. It appears to me just as Beheggakegri called it, these dranglers are a bunch of violent psychotics. It’s genetic. They can’t be cured. In my opinion they need eradicating and put an end to all this nonsense.’

‘Well thanks for your opinion,’ Chameakegra said coldly before breaking the connection.

‘That lizard’s got a great voice,’ Debbie remarked. ‘She speaks perfectly. How has she learnt English so quick?’

‘I bet it’s all done by technology,’ Denby suggested cynically. ‘I bet if you were to go to any other part of the world you’d hear it speaking in the local dialect.’

‘You reckon?’ Debbie replied, looking amazed. ‘I was wondering how that blue forked tongue and hard scaly lips could form words so perfectly.’

‘Did you hear what the fucking reptile said,’ Billy snarled. ‘She’s not only taking our fucking country off us, she’s banning us from going on our own fucking planet!’

Debbie looked confused.

‘All that shyte about allowing nature to repair so we’re not allowed to go places,’ Billy snarled. ‘Banned by a bunch of scabby lizards from going where we want in our own bleedin’ gaffe!’

‘I quite liked some of it,’ John muttered. ‘Sharing that technology and making life better. Perhaps they will make a difference?’

Billy and Denby both fixed him with withering stares.

‘The world is in a bit of a mess,’ Debbie remarked in a feeble voice, not wanting to bring their wrath down on herself.

‘What’s all that fucking shyte about putting this fucking dimwit writer, Ron Force or whatever his fucking name is, in charge? What the fuck does he know about running the world?’

‘Can’t do a worse job than the bunch we’ve just had in,’ Foxy quipped.

‘He’ll be running nowt,’ Denby asserted. ‘He’s just a face, a puppet. Those lizards’ll be pulling the strings.’

‘Right on,’ Billy nodding his agreement.

‘Well I like the idea of taking the money from the military and bunging it into schools,’ Cheryl asserted, glaring defiantly at Denby, daring him to turn on her. ‘About time the kids got a better deal.’

‘Bloody indoctrination centres, more like,’ Billy didn’t hold back with his glares. ‘They want to indoctrinate them, that’s all. It’s not about fucking education.’

‘If they overhaul production and make it more efficient that might bung a bit more in my pay packet,’ Foxy remarked cheerfully. ‘I could do with enough for a week or two on the Costa Brava.’

‘I for one aren’t going to be pushed around by a bunch of alien lizards,’ Billy asserted vehemently. ‘Just wait until that meeting this evening. I’ll tell it like it is?’

‘Your task will be to bring them together, to create a global community,’ Chameakegra explained. ‘You have to engineer building a society based on fairness and equality, one that works for everyone.’

‘Bloody hell,’ Ron looked aghast. The longer this went on the greater his suspension of belief. ‘Fucking Ada. That’s all? What am I meant to do in the afternoon?’

‘I have received your report,’ Beheggakegri’s image hovered above Grrndakegra’s tridee receiver looking suitably smug. ‘Good stuff. Do your best. This Hydran rehabilitation scheme looks like a recipe for disaster. Your troopers are doing a great job. I’ve been watching the Hydrans on their communications systems. They are becoming more and more irate. The camps are working too. Put a bunch of psychos together, pack them in and they’re bound to feed off each other. Before long they’ll be big trouble.’ He chuckled, scutes flashing blue with pleasure. ‘See if you can’t find a way of delaying those lunar facilities. The longer we have them cramped up in the camps the better. And tell the troopers to be even rougher when they drag them out. It would be good if we can inflame the families and lookers on. Make sure that the most troublesome, violent arrests find their way on to their communication networks. That’ll stir them up.’

Grrndakegra nodded assent, as if she needed telling how to do her job.

‘Make sure that your abduction teams steer well clear of the resistance groups,’ Beheggakegri added. ‘We don’t want any of them getting picked up. If possible we need to allow all that protest to ferment, some more widespread scenes of violence would play into our hands. You could try funding more of those prehistoric thugs that you used at the protests. They really created mayhem.’ Beheggakegri was obviously delighting in all this. His whole demeanour was glowing.

Grrndakegra watched the obese Dref flicking dainties into his buccal cavity with disdain verging on repulsion. He so obviously relished the thought of the Hydrans fighting but was enjoying the thought of Chameakegra’s downfall even more. It was easy to see that Beheggakegri totally despised the Giforian Commander. This business left Grrndakegra feeling disgruntled. That Dref Beheggakegri was incredibly annoying, giving out his instructions like this. She didn’t need telling.

‘I have slowed things down on the lunar facilities,’ Grrndakegra explained with a touch of exasperation. ‘Didn’t take much. I had a word or two with the Minorian in charge. We exchanged a few scenarios. He rapidly came round to my point of view, particularly when I informed him that you were on the case.’

Beheggakegri found that amusing.

‘So, the lunar facilities won’t be available for a long while yet. The camps are as full as a Breffta’s crop and the Hydrans are becoming feisty. We’ll see how lady Chameakegra copes with that. Keep up the good work Grrndakegra.’

‘I’ve already employed more provocateurs and am funding various media agitators, really stirring up the division and hate. That’ll all pay off. My troops have been instructed to leave our agitators alone. I have it all in claws.’ Grrndakegra wanted her obese boss to know that he certainly did not need to keep checking up on her.

Beheggakegri seemed suitably impressed.

Grrndakegra flicked off and stared at the space where Beheggakegri’s obscenely obese form had been. She felt like spraying the tridee with disinfectant.

The Superhero Agency – A humorous short story

Posted on by Opher

I stole this wonderful idea from Dave Burnham and developed it into an amusing short story. Thanks Dave.

‘Good morning Mr Jeckyll, where are you? Oh there you are. Now what made you apply to the Agency?’

‘I want to be a superhero.’

‘Well you’ve come to the right place. This is the Superhero Agency. We specialise in finding roles for superheroes. Oh, you’ve gone again. I can see you Mr Jeckyll, peeping out from under the desk.’ He chuckled. Mr Rowntree was used to dealing with real superheroes – Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern , the Incredible Hulk and the like – all muscular, fit and dynamic, not like the scrawny youth in front of him. The idea of him being a superhero was amusing but he was happy to go through the formalities. Superheroes were few and far between. He did not have much to fill his days with and dreamed of a new discovery. You never knew. The most unlikely of places.

Mr Rowntree began shuffling papers and gave Gavin a stern look as the callow youth slid back into his seat. He pushed his horn-rimmed glasses back on his nose and blinked. His eyes were playing up today.

‘I think some paperwork is in order.’ His pen was poised over his application form as he began to take down some particulars. He glanced back up to find no sign of the young Mr Jeckyll. He’d gone again.

‘Ah, there you are,’ he muttered with a sigh of exasperation as he caught a glimpse of the young man’s head peeping out from behind the filing cabinets. ‘Let us start at the beginning. Now, what superpowers do you possess? I do wish you would keep still.’ He blinked to settle his misty eyes.

Gavin Jeckyll regained his seat. ‘I am super at hiding.’

‘Hmmm,’ Mr Rowntree murmured dubiously through pursed lips, not taking his eyes off the youth. ‘Hiding, eh? We don’t get too much call for that in this business – more the turning green and bursting out of your clothes to stop locomotives, or flying through the air to prevent disasters. That sort of thing. I’ve never seen hiding as a super-skill.’

‘Exactly,’ Gavin replied. ‘There’s no superhider. I’m your man.’

Mr Rowntree frowned dubiously across at the emaciated young man, blinking to settle his eyes, his pen poised. ‘And pray Mr Jeckyll, what possible use could this superpower be to humanity?’ He ground to a halt, scanning the room. The youth had gone again. He was certain he hadn’t taken his eyes off him yet he had disappeared. He must have glanced down. Now where was he? He perused the room. There was not a sign. No head peeping out from under the desk or behind the filing cabinet. Apart from those few items the room was bare.

‘I can listen in on secret meetings and gain valuable information about our enemies,’ a dissociated voice drifted from behind the curtains.

Mr Rowntree turned to study where the voice had emanated from. No sign.

‘I can tell you all the most dastardly plans. I can avert wars, halt tyrants in their tracks. I want to be a superhero.’

Mr Rowntree was beginning to see the possibilities but was still far from convinced. Nobody looked less like a superhero than Gavin Jeckyll. He couldn’t imagine comics being written about this dishevelled lanky youth and certainly not a film. Nobody could be less photogenic. He blinked and tried to keep his eyes trained on the stringy fellow.

‘Hmmm, if we were to confer superstatus on you Mr Jeckyll, what superuniform could we devise and what name could you assume?’

Mr Rowntree looked up from his form. ‘Oh, where are you now? Oh there you are.’

Mr Jeckyll was pretending to be a coat stand by the side of the door and very effective at it too, only when he waved back at Mr Rowntree did he become visible.

Gavin Jeckyll moved in front of the desk, pulled his shirt off and dropped his tracksuit bottoms.

‘Mr Jeckyll really!’ Mr Rowntree exclaimed. ‘You really can’t get undressed here. I was only referring to the possibility of a superuniform.’ Then he went quiet, staring at the naked Gavin Jeckyll in disbelief. ‘Oh. Gosh and golly. That is extraordinary.’

As he stared at the man, Jeckyll’s skin took on the colour and texture of his surroundings and seemed to melt into the room – ‘The Chameleon’ was born.

The Cleansing 16 – Chapter 6

Posted on by Opher

The original idea behind Judgement was to provide a vehicle to analyse the good and bad aspects of human civilisation. The idea behind The Cleansing was to suggest how the bad stuff could be remedied.

Chapter 6 – The Plan

Chameakegra sat in her quarters concentrating deep into her mind. How could she undo some of the damage done by the extractions? How could she soften Grrndakegra’s hard style? The Hydrans were now familiar with the look of Federation races, particularly Giforians and Drefs. She knew that their features produced terror. Hydran folklore was full of dragons, serpents and scaly worms. To them they appeared like creatures from their nightmares. Was there any way she could counter that? It seemed impossible.

What had been the effect of her first broadcast? The research seemed to suggest that not much had gone in at all. The Hydrans had been in total shock and were completely unreceptive. Neff’s great mind suggested that she should simply repeat the message. Hydrans found repetition reassuring. Psychologically it would help. But Neff intimated that there was no magic cure, no panacea. Sudden exposure to a superior technology always resulted in psychological turmoil. All that could be done was to keep repeating the same message and demonstrate the veracity of it through actions. That took time – a lot of time. Chameakegra took that on board.

The idea of her second broadcast was to put a little more flesh on the bones. She aimed to pick up the same points as last time and build on them.

‘People of Hydra,’ Commander Chameakegra spoke in her most soothing tone. This time she was allowing a close-up of her face taking care not to show her crest which she thought might still be too frightening for Hydrans to stomach. She was working on the principle that the Hydrans had seen the hordes of Giforian and Dref troopers on the street. The time for pretence was over. The best psychological ploy was to be completely transparent, lay out the reality and all the Hydrans to come to terms with what the situation was then they could start to come to terms with it. ‘I am Commander Chameakegra – the officer in charge of this assistance scheme. I am sure that you have been extremely frightened by what has happened. I can fully understand that. I can only repeat that we mean you no harm. What we are doing is in your best interests.’

Chameakegra peered out from billions of homes with a face that she hoped looked sincere. Hydrans had never seen alien races before so it was a big ask to expect apes to interpret saurian expressions and scaly faces were notoriously difficult to read. It was a risk. She pressed on. There was nothing she could do about that. Her scaly face was something they were going to have to get used to. She just hoped they could adjust quickly.

‘I would like to tell you something about us. We are a Federation of intelligent beings from all over the galaxy. Intelligent life is rare and our aim is to assist it to develop and prosper. This is not an invasion so much as an intervention. We are here to assist you to progress.’

Images of polluted areas and wars filled the screen.

‘Our investigations have concluded that action was necessary. You and your planet are teetering on the brink of catastrophe. Wars, violence, social breakdown and environmental disaster have taken you to the brink of disaster. We had no choice but to intervene.’

Chameakegra was hoping that the Hydrans were savvy enough to at least partially accept the truth of what she was saying. After all, she had heard it expressed all over the planet. Even though many of them turned a blind eye to it, or were in denial, most did recognise that things were hanging by a precarious thread.

‘We are briefly taking control of your planet. We have dismantled your military and suspended all forms of government. We have temporarily closed your media. Please do not be concerned. I will explain what we are going to do.’

This was the crux. Could they accept that it was necessary for the Federation to take over the planet? Could they psychologically come to terms with this invasion? She was projecting a pinky beige colour in order not to appear too outlandish. She guessed that a psychedelic face might just push them over the edge.

‘We have completely undone the tribal idea of nations. They will not be reinstated. In due course we will set up a global government which, in the future, will be run by yourselves for the benefit of all Hydrans. There will never again be the need for armies and military forces. There will never again be any more wars.’

Chameakegra thought that explanation was better. Even if they did not agree maybe they could understand the reasoning.

‘As for the members of this interim government we have assembled; we have replaced your democratic system with one based on ability. Instead of electing individuals into office, based on lies, charisma, promises, lust for power and greed, our supercomputer has studied the qualities of all eight billion Hydrans and selected people best suited to carry out the jobs based on their ability and character. All too often your democratic system has elected self-servers, liars, inept fools and thieves. That is largely why you were in the mess you were in. We have replaced the corrupt and ineffective with those most able and best suited to do a good job.’ Her face seemed to crinkle into a smile as she attempted to come across in a more informal manner. ‘Allow me to point out that if you were appointing anybody into an important role you would study their qualifications, experience and interview them to ascertain their views and character in order to select the most appropriate candidate for the role. Governing is the most important job in the world. You would not appoint them through an election.’

Chameakegra was attempting to look serious but benevolent. She wasn’t really certain how that might come across to Hydrans. This was the crux of her speech.

‘So, citizens of Hydra, we have made two moves that may cause you some consternation but which we believe are essential for your progress. We have given you a global government, unifying you under one overarching system and we have placed people of ability and integrity in charge.’

Here, she knew she was treading on some delicate psychological territory. Her investigations had led her to recognise how deep the tribal traits were embedded. Many Hydrans seemed intrinsically patriotic and nationalistic to the point of rabid xenophobic racism. The idea of their nation being done away with altogether would be utterly abhorrent. Would the prospect of there being no more wars be sufficient to bring them on board? The camera zoomed in to focus on her eyes, eyes that were not dissimilar to that of Hydrans, apart from the brightness of their colour, vulnerable eyes that she hoped might project compassion and verity. She hoped that they could see those emotions.

It was time to grasp another thorny issue and clear the table.

‘You will have seen that we have taken away numerous individuals and I am sure this has caused you a great deal of fear. Do not be concerned. We have identified all the people who, for one reason or another, are responsible for the precarious state of your world. These are the people who have displayed malevolent levels of greed, lust for power or violence, or have obvious psychological, emotional and anti-social behaviour traits. I repeat do not be concerned. They will be returned to you unharmed. It was necessary to remove them so that we could carry out the cleansing. They will come back rehabilitated with their empathy and compassion fully restored so that they can perform positive roles in your society. We aim to leave you with a vibrant, happy, well-adjusted and productive society that no longer takes you to the brink of extinction.’

At least it might allay some of their fears and give them hope. She knew their imaginations were probably conjuring up scenes of torture and murder. This might help allay some of those fears though she was aware that she might be reopening wounds and feeding fires. She allowed a reddish tint to spread over the scales of her face, softening it, providing warmth and indicating a positive emotion. It had to be said.

‘We have a clear vision for the future. One that will make you prosperous and happy and enable your progress into a new age of science and technology. The stars await you. After we have restored your government we will overhaul your other institutions so that they function properly and enable your society and culture to reach its potential and assume a leading role in the Federation.’

Providing hope for the future was essential if they were going to progress. She tried to present a sincere expression that she hoped they might be able to decipher. From her experience Hydrans were good at interpreting facial expressions, though the Giforian features were nowhere near as malleable as those of Hydrans.

‘We will take steps to overhaul our industry and energy production so that it is no longer polluting and damaging to the environment. We will clean up your rivers and seas, improve the quality of your soil and air and restore the biosphere to the dynamic state it should be in.’

Chameakegra was confident that this would appeal to a sizeable number of Hydrans and find a majority in favour. Her investigations had shown the state of the environment to be a major concern. Her big eyes shone out hypnotically as she paused between each element. She wanted them to take in the gist of what she was saying even if, in their present state of turmoil, they were unable to retain the detail. This exercise was all about the long, slow process of building trust. Chameakegra herself had to believe. She had to believe one hundred percent that at the end of this process the Hydrans were both capable and worthy of being saved and Hydra had a great future. She could not allow herself to think for an instant that Beheggakegri might get his way, the Hydrans eradicated and all this in vain. Not for a second. She exuded sincerity.

‘We will make education a priority in order that young minds are nurtured and expanded so they can reach their creative best.’

Everyone cared about their kids. Surely this was another important area to emphasise. She resisted the desire to raise her hands to emphasise the words. The last thing that Hydrans needed was to be shown an image of Giforian claws. Not at this stage.

‘We will enable a care system so that the weak are supported and greatly improve your health systems with all manner of preventative and remedial technology. This will enable you to cure many of your present-day maladies, rectify genetic flaws and prevent many diseases that you presently suffer from so that you can all flourish. We will provide treatments to cure your various addictions, addictions to drugs, alcohol, sex and gambling so that your societies will be healthier.’

This too might help to paint a positive vision of what was to come that might win a number of Hydrans over.

‘We aim to give you the means to improve your infrastructure and housing so that the quality of everyone’s lives will improve greatly. When the resources of your planet are more evenly distributed, far less is wasted on destructive warfare, and the innovations on technology and science have been introduced all your lives will be transformed.’

Chameakegra’s image hung there in all its glory. She could only hope that she had done enough. She had tried to sell them a vision of a glowing future. She had to hope that they could absorb it and see the benefits. Could this vision of a fabulous future compensate for the fears and shock of this encounter and upheaval? Time would tell. At least it was a start. She smiled benignly out at them radiating peace and hope.

The picture faded away.

Ian Dury book finally out!!

Posted on by Opher

I take great pleasure in announcing that my Ian Dury book is now finally available on Amazon and all book shops!

Ian Dury On Track: Every Album, Every Song: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781789523744: Books

I have signed copies is anybody would like one!