pected random Freudian garbage to pour out of what
they thought were relatively stupid creatures, most
dogs began a whiny tirade against their masters, mine
addressing me universally with interesting appellations.
“Listen, you douchebag!” says my dog.[8] Next came
insects. I remember the first immortal grasshopper I
met. Being used to the usual subservient position of
insects in the daily hierarchy, I accidentally stepped on
it and frowned when he exclaimed his discomfort. It
resulted in multiple lawsuits, and I had to pay a huge
settlement. I shall never again pick a fight with a grass-
hopper again![9]
Now to the mettle of this note. While the initial
progress of science was astounding and positive, soon
the decentralized economy, which was an inevitable
outcome of the rise of the Leftist wing of the scientists,
strengthened by an increasingly stratified society, re-
sulted into factions. The FLOOPonians were one such
faction. They developed a supercomputer (really super.
Not like the supercomputers people made back in the
2000s. These could actually predict future and stuff).
This was when all hell broke loose. It predicted, with
the infinite wisdom of any binary juggler (as in it juggles
1s and 0s. Sorry!), that mankind had just two more
years, after which, everyone shall die because the earth
would turn into a giant meatball. This was no ridiculous
science fiction, and the reason was complicated. It had
something to do with the artificial-meat producing in-
dustry harnessing the outer-core dynamics for energy
by creating an intercommunicating flux bridge, but this
bridge was susceptible to quantum fluctuations, and
hence would be reversed in the aforementioned pe-
riod leading to the meatball-isation of the core, and
then the earth. Even conservative calculations predict-
ed we had at max 197.3 years. The government, or
whatever remained, tried to suppress the rumor, con-
verting it into a meme rather. “Whether it happens in 2
years or 197.3 years, I shall be ready with my fork and
knife”[10], billboards read. People bought into the joke
and did not take this seriously.
The government hunted the FLOOPonians down,
destroyed all their workstations. Here is where I come
in. In the final siege of the government on the last
FLOOPonian stronghold on the Madagascar island,
they discovered the supercomputer. The government
had all the plans to use the computer to predict future
and tighten their already draconian grip on the public.
That is why I had to bomb the island.[11]
Very few FLOOPonians were left, and without their
supercomputer, were almost powerless. Well, almost.
One of them had, what we colloquially call a shrink-
ray. Contrary to popular belief, this worked by making
the entire space-time continuum around them smaller,
rather than reducing the size of atoms, which is obvi-
ously impossible. Pushed to the wall, he shrunk all the
surviving FLOOPonians, and they hid in the nearest
beehive they could find. Honey, due to its viscosity, re-
tards EM signals, and hence when the rest try to search
for them, the signals return empty.
I am the last known unshrunk FLOOPonian sur-
vivor. Whenever I look at a bee, I wonder how fool-
ishly ignorant people are of the FLOOPonians living
on them.[12] I do not know whether you believe
in destiny. But I do. I believe it is my destiny to help
these people. What I plan to do is simple. I shall use
crayons, the only known device capable of time and
intra-dimensional travel (and that is why children scrib-
ble. Is it not apparent that their fantastical stories come
from them glimpsing into other-dimensional worlds?). I
shall create a portal when the time is right, go into the
past, travel to my parent universe and take birth as a
human there. When they look at the fetus therein, they
would not know, but that fetus will change the history
of several worlds.[13] If I manage to, from within my
avatar there (a young man from a small city in west
India), bring about some change in the world there,
that universe will progress better than ours did. It will
then, in the future, move to KimJonUniverse to help
out my FLOOPonian brethren. That is my destiny. That
is my path.
I shall imprint the note onto my iris, using the visu-
ospatial pattern imprinter chart, which in the past was
also used in the Rorschach inkblot test[14]. In case I
fail, do ensure this task is done. A lot of lives depend
on you.
Yours faithfully,
Johnny Bravo[15]
Satwik Pasani
3136, Batch of ‘14