by INDIRA CHARUNDER-MACHARRUNDEIRA, Alternate Reality News Service Literature Writer
As per the instructions in his will, writer Ira Nayman was brought back from the dead 300 years after his demise. While alive, he reasoned that, so much time having passed, he would finally be able to write something featuring Mickey Mouse without running afoul of copyright law.
“I’m afraid Ira is going to be very disappointed,” said Atari Dimanche, the Vodun Priest who turned Nayman’s remains into a zombie.
“Nnnnnnngh uhhhhh guuuuuuh guh gaaaaah nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnh!” Nayman moaned.
“I will not translate that as there may be small children present,” Dimanche stated. “Let me just say that Ira was very, very, very, very, very, very disappointed.” That is one very beyond the five verys threshold, so the reader can imagine how much beyond disappointed Nayman was.
While dead, Nayman missed the corporate takeover of Earth by Galactic Gzyzygics, a military corporatocracy based in Alpha Centauri, 137 years ago. While GG restructured much of human life around its principle of “Profit before Honour, Death before Debits,” one aspect of human existence it found worth keeping was extending the term of copyright every 20 years.
“It just makes sense,” explained Akananda Vellum, CEO General of Galactic Gzyzygics, Earth. “Why would anybody create anything if they couldn’t provide for their family at least 20 generations into the future?”
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgh nnnnnnnnnnnnnnguh guh guh!” Nayman cried.
“I think he said something about ‘artistic need’ or ‘artistic feeding’ or ‘artist’s feet’ -something like that,” Dimanche translated. Well, tried to, in any case. “Sorry. I had a good career going in an alien wergillflomp factory when I was called upon to continue the family shamaning business. I’m still rather new at this.”
“Guuuunuuuungggggggggh! Ruhhrrrr gurrraaaaargh?”
“Everybody has to start somewhere!” Dimanche protested. “And, anyway, the squirrels I used to put flesh on your bones were freshly killed, so you really have nothing to complaining about!”
“Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Grrrrrrrrgh aaaaargh aaaaar ar grrraaaaaaaaagh!” Nayman continued.
“Ah, now, there’s a good point,” Dimanche commented. “He wants to know where new ideas come from when copyright is continually extended into the future. It would seem to him that this is a formula for esthetic stagnation – his words, not mine.”
Vellum looked chagrinned. Well, as chagrinned as a six foot tall preying mantis with a human head wearing a business suit with military decorations – the entire mantis, not just her head – can look. She explained that Galactic Gzyzygics expanded through the galaxy precisely because its copyright regime made it impossible to develop new ideas on its home planet.
“It was around the 500th version of the film Fecund Belorchian, Corporate Espionager that we realized that we had a problem,” Vellum admitted. The obvious solution was to stop extending copyright protections and allow artists to do new things with old artistic properties. Galactic Gzyzygics decided to raid alien cultures for new stories instead. “It was easier that way,” Vellum stated.
The first civilization Galactic Gzyzygics hostilely took over was the Feynman Clustertariat of Alpha Omicron VII. The military corporatocracy plundered its culture for 27 years, fully exhausting its possibilities before moving on to its next prey. “You know what they say about potato chips and the heads of your husbands…” Vellum wistfully commented.
As Galactic Gzyzygics acquired new cultures, the synergy between them and the old cultures it had already incorporated into its portfolio meant that it could profitably mine the new acquisition for longer and longer periods. It is now estimated that the military corporatocracy will control Earth for 549 years before having to seek new merger opportunities in other star systems.
“I look at this planet as a fixer upper,” Vellum said, running a feeler across the hood of a Ford Phallacy (voted the third most impressive sport utility vehicle seven years running by Better Roads and Gundums magazine) and tutting when she inspected the results. “Still, it will be an honour to die on this rock for the greater profits of Galactic Gzyzygics!”
“Aaaaaaaaaargh rurrrrrrrrr arrrur rrrrur?” Nayman asked.
“Sorry, but zombification is a one time process,” Dimanche apologized. “The next time you die, I won’t be able to bring you back to life again. The best you can hope for now is that you continue to exist in this twilight state of being until Galactic Gzyzygics gets bored with Earth and moves on, letting copyright finally lapse – that’s the only way you’re going to get your claws on that scrawny rodent.”
Nayman sighed. Or, possibly just leaked gas from the side of his head; either way, let’s assume that it meant he was unhappily resigned to the situation.