"Robert Rankin - Armageddon the Musical" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robert Rankin)

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Armageddon The Musical
Robert Rankin


VIEW WHAT THOU WILT SHALL BE THE WHOLE OF THE LAW

Planet Earth rolled on in ever decreasing circles around the sun. As it had been carrying on in
this fashion for more years than anyone cared to remember, there seemed no cause for immediate
alarm. Not that things were exactly a bundle of laughs down on old terra firma at the present
time, oh dear me, no. Things had never been quite the same since, in a moment of gay abandonment,
out-going US president Wayne L. Wormwood had chosen to press the nuclear button just as the New
Year bells were gaily chiming in the arrival of the twenty-first century.

This generally unwelcome turn in events had caught many with their trousers well and truly down
and had definitely taken the edge off much of the auld lang syning. But it did, at least, offer
followers of the late great Nostradamus the dubious satisfaction of spending their final four
minutes saying 'I told you so' to anyone who seemed inclined to listen.

The Nuclear Holocaust Event, as the media later dubbed it, was a somewhat noisy and unsettling
affair, and was considered by the naturally pessimistic to be 'the end of civilisation as we know
it'. Of course it was nothing of the kind and a surprising number of folk did come out of it
relatively unscathed, if not altogether uncomplaining. The governments of the day rose to the
occasion with such remarkable aplomb that one might have been forgiven for thinking that they were
expecting

it all along. Although the water was a bit iffy and lamb looked like being off the menu for some
time to come, the TV was back on within the week, which can't be bad by any reckoning. And it was
encouraging to note that not only had unemployment been cut at a stroke, as had long been
promised, but racial intolerance ceased virtually overnight, mankind now being united beneath the
banner of a single colour. A rather unpleasant shade of mould green.

But, as someone almost said, you can't please all of the people all of the time. And, even now,
fifty years on, with the smoke beginning to clear, radiation on its way down and that nebulous
something, oft referred to as normal service, restored, there were still no outward signs of
euphoria evident upon the faces of Mr and Mrs Joe Public. Not that anyone was actually heard to
complain, and why should they? Today's nuclear family had very much to be grateful for. Three
square meals a week, unlimited cable television, a constant room temperature, low overheads and
free waste disposal. And leisure time had really come into its own.

Of course, the prospect of spending your brief span banged up in a bomb-proof bunker, watching TV
and awaiting further developments, was not everyone's cup of enzo-protein synthatea. But you did,
at least, have the satisfaction of knowing that, even here, you could play your part in the
glorious rebuilding scheme.

Active Viewing was now the name of the game, down below. The console of the TV terminal put
everything that was left of the world at the finger stumps of the bunker-bound. And there was a
great deal to see. The re-education programmes, the devotional exercises, the food operas, the
game shows, not to mention the public service broadcasts. It was all there, and the choice of what