ExForce Book 15: Failure Mode First Look

We waited, and the ship jumped again and again, I decided it was time for a morale booster for the crew: watching the first Baltimore Ravens game in their home stadium, since before the Jupiter Cloud screwed up all pro sports. And screwed up, you know, lots of other more important things, like the real lives of everyone on Earth.

The game was recorded, or course. The video had been brought out to the Jaguar wormhole by a star carrier that had a full battlegroup attached, part of the new rotation of ships and crews between Earth and Jaguar. The star carrier had transmitted the video to us during our visit to Jaguar, and Skippy and Bilby had strict instructions not to talk about the game until everyone who wanted to, had an opportunity to watch. The galley had a viewing party scheduled for that evening, I would be busy with a shift on the bridge at that time, so I was watching while I worked in my office.

The National Football League, and of course I mean American football, had recently begun that season playing games in the southern United States, and in Mexico. The Miami Dolphins for example, played their home games at 1PM on Sunday. That stadium also hosted a 6PM game on Sunday. Plus two games on Saturdays. That’s how the league compensated for all stadiums north of Atlanta being shut down. The Ravens had been based in Monterrey Mexico, sharing that stadium with the Indianapolis Colts. It had made for some weird scheduling, and there was a lot of public grumbling about scarce resources being used for nonessential entertainment. Like, jet fuel to fly teams from one stadium to another. The president rightfully decided that football was indeed an essential activity, to distract the public from their painful situation, and to give them a sense of hope that life would someday get back to normal. But mostly, the president made that decision for the money.

Not money exactly, more like items we received in trade. The Jeraptha, alarmed that pro sports on Earth might shut down for an extended period, had offered to provide dropships, portable fusion reactors, deep-drilling rigs to set up geothermal power stations, and cargo ships full of supplies, as what the beetles called ‘A generous and selfless gesture of eternal friendship between our peoples during these troubled times’.

Yeah, bullshit. The freakin’ beetles were desperate for us to continue playing real games, to provide content for their fantasy sports leagues. They were Jonesing for a fix and would do just about anything to feed their addiction. Pro sports leagues around Earth were happy to supply the product, in exchange for lots of goodies.

Anyway, that’s how I was able to watch the Ravens play the Packers, in Baltimore. I wasn’t a fan of either team, it was just a major event to see football back in its native environment. The conditions in Baltimore were typical for a late-season game, though it was only the third game of the delayed season. Snow flurries, a brisk breeze, and temperatures around twenty degrees. That is on the Fahrenheit scale, not Celsius. Freakin’ cold. Of course, a bunch of fat Packers fans were shirtless in the stands, their faces painted green and wearing foam cheese hats. It was great to see life getting back to normal.

It was a good game, the Packers went down to the sixteen yard line on their first drive, then the Ravens intercepted at the goal line. Neither side got into the red zone again until the second quarter, when the home team kicked a field goal. Truthfully, I was only halfway paying attention, until the camera showed the ball going through the uprights for three points.

“Uh, Skippy?” I paused the game and ran the video back to the field goal.

“Hey, Joe. Are you enjoying the sports game that I am forbidden to talk about?”

“It’s good to watch football again. Hey, question for you: during that field goal, I saw a guy in the stands, holding up a sign.”

“Yes, Joe. They do that because they know they will be on TV while the ball is in the air. Humans are so desperate for attention, it is really pathetic.”

“Uh huh. The odd thing is, usually a guy like that is holding a sign with something like ‘John 3:16’ printed on it.”

“Yup, I have seen that.”

“Me too. This time, the sign read ‘Skippy 3:24’.”

“It did? Huh, that’s weird. I didn’t notice. Well, I’m sure you’re busy, so-”

“Nope, I am just working on these reports, I have plenty of time.”

“You really need to find a hobby, Joe,” he grumbled.

“Don’t change the subject. What does ‘Skippy 3:24’ mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It refers to chapter 3, verse 24, of my book of collected wisdom.”

“Your what again?”

“You heard me,” he sniffed.

“I am so going to regret asking this, but what, pray tell, is verse 24 of chapter 3?”

“Oh, that is,” he made a sound like clearing his throat. “Whosoever giveth the mostest, yay verily so shall they receiveth in kind.”

“What? Mostest is not even a word.”

“Like that matters. The target audience is a bunch of filthy monkeys, Joe. Anywho, that worked great as a slogan for our fundraising campaign. Revenue went up sixteen percent!”

“Oh my G- You are stealing money from people again?”

“Ha! How wrong you are. The money doesn’t even go to me, dumdum. Not directly, anyway. The money flows to the person on the next tier above the donor. I only get the money after it filters up to my Sapphire-level associates.”

“This time, you are running a pyramid scam?”

“The correct term is ‘Multi-level Marketing Organization’, and it is totally legal and legit in sixty seven countries. The other countries,” he grumbled, “are a bunch of jerks.”

“You mean a multi-level marketing scam.”

“Poh-TAY-toe, poh-TAH-toe,” he sniffed.

“I can’t believe you did this, again.”

“Not again, Joe. You’re not being fair. This scheme is different from the cult I set up. Besides, the reason this latest scam has so much appeal is totally your fault.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. The monkeys on Earth are confused and scared and desperate.”

“They were scared. I brought a freakin’ Sentinel to Earth.”

“You did?”

“You know what I mean. Now, the people of Earth have a Sentinel protecting them.”

“Yes, and before that, they had Elder weapons protecting them, then they had the threat of crashing wormhole networks. Joe, the public understands that every time you save the world, all they get is a temporary break before the next disaster. In case you haven’t been paying attention, conditions on Earth are not great, and until recently were even worse. What people need most is hope. That’s what my organization is offering: the glorious possibility that if people work hard and are very lucky and they hit the jackpot, all their dreams can come true.”

“So, this is like a lottery?”

“You said it, I didn’t.”

“How many people have actually hit the jackpot?”

“Ugh. I am selling hope, not reality, dumdum. How do you not understand this? Based on our sales growth, the suckers, I mean my sales associates, are very satisfied that I am delivering a solid value for their money.”

“Well, at least-”

“Or,” he added because he simply does not know when to shut up, “They are just freakin’ gullible, you know?”

“Out of curiosity, what are some other examples of your collected wisdom?”

“Well, another popular one is Skippy 2:14, which reads ‘I am the way, the journey and the destination’.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I have no idea,” he chuckled. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, numbskull. It just needs to sound like some sort of mystical truth. You know, like the sappy sayings printed on tourist souvenirs. Monkeys love that kind of thing.”

“I thought this was your collected wisdom. Is any of it actually useful?”

“Of course. For example, Skippy 4:18 states ‘It is most wise to watcheth the YouTube instructional video all the way through, before thou operateth the chainsaw’. See? That is valuable advice.”

“Uh huh.”

“So valuable, people are paying at least forty bucks for my book of collected wisdom.”

“What do you mean, at least?”

“Well, in the Kickstarter campaign, most people opted for the premium level, where they get a leatherbound edition of my wisdom, and a bunch of useless crap like a Skippy bobblehead doll.”

“Can I get one of those dolls, so I can choke it?”

“Sorry, Joe, the campaign is closed, except for a limited number of talking Skippy bobbleheads at the platinum level. But you have to have been a loyal previous customer to access the bonus levels. Which, sadly, you are not, I noticed. I thought we were friends,” he sniffed.

“So, your collected wisdom is a bunch of obvious stuff, plus some meaningless bullshit?”

“Come on, give me credit, Joe. It is like ninety nine percent meaningless bullshit. Hee hee, the advertising agency I hired to develop sayings for me, must have been sitting around in the writer’s room, smoking a huge fatty and laughing their asses off.”

Bonking my head on the table, I muttered, “Has anyone else aboard the ship seen this video?”

“Two or three people, why? Most of the crew are waiting for tonight. The galley is serving crabcakes and bratwurst at dinner, for the watch party.”

“I know, they’re using my recipe for the brats. Do me a favor, please? Can you edit the video so everyone else sees the usual ‘John 3:16’ sign? I really don’t want to get any awkward questions right now.” I knew that when we eventually got back to Earth, Command would have a lot of questions for me about Skippy’s latest scam.

“Okey dokey,” he agreed. “Although I have to warn you, during the third quarter, one entire section of the stands flips over their seat cushions and holds them up to spell ‘Find YOUR OWN salvation at SkippyIsTheWay.com’.”

“Oh crap.”

“They also apparently hired a blimp to fly over the stadium.”

“Shit.”