December 16, 2012 by Lyn
August, 2011. Between Years 16 and 17 of the Addergoole School
A middle-aged white man in a trench coat stands on the street in a Southwestern city, in front of a closed building, holding a microphone.
This is Guy Peterka for News Flash. On scene in Casa Grande, where a man calling himself Kokopelli has been dancing up and down the streets for several days now.
Kokopelli was known as a fertility deity, usually depicted as a humpbacked flute player. This being has been venerated by some Native American cultures in the Southwestern United States since before the time of Columbus.
Cut to an image of Kokopelli in silhouette, then back to the reporter,
The man on the street who has taken on the likeness of this god, complete with humped back and flute, is only the most recent in a series of such appearances. And while his presence is more benign, on the surface, than some of the other so-called Returned Gods, Kokopelli brings with him his own problems.
Cut to the street, where the stores are hung with “Closed” signs. Trash rolls down the street, a la a tumbleweed.
One teenaged girl is crying in front of the closed deli.
“I never… I swear…”
The voice-over takes over.
“Linda Werwin says that she can’t explain the positive pregnancy test, and she has a three-day gap in her memories coinciding with the arrival of this so-called Kokopelli. Nor is she the only one; girls and women all over the city are missing time and showing positive pregnancy tests.”
Another cut-away, this time to a middle-aged woman in an expensive suit, holding her head and crying.
“And the noise….!”
And back to the reporter, who is trying hard to look solemn.
Indeed. The noise. You can hear it through most of the city. Even here if you listen closely…”
He falls ostentatiously silent. In the distance, as the cameraman turns up the mike, you can hear flute music. Even through the filter of the camera, the broadcast, and the television speakers, it has an oddly compelling sound to it, as if there is something you have to do. People listening with a partner want to turn of the TV and do something more intimate. Farmers and gardeners want to check on their crops.
The reporter coughs.
In person, the music is compelling. Perhaps not surprisingly; this so-called Kokopelli is not the first “god” to infect our country, and he is not the first to be more compelling, more interesting, more powerful than should be believable. What is it about these so-called gods? How are they doing this, and what do they want?
Cut to a scientist in an office. The scientist is a middle-aged white man wearing glasses and a lab coat; the text below him says “Dr. Randolg Gershwimmer, University of California at Berkley. His accent is impeccable middle-American, although there are moments when he slips.
“Although we cannot be certain what the goal of these ‘god’ people is, what we can tell is how they are performing their penny-ante ‘miracles.’ They are nothing but illusions and junk science, brought together with some modern technology.”
The scientist points at a machine behind him, which is printing off some sort of frequency graph in red and blue ink.
“It is a matter of science now that certain sound frequencies affect human brain waves. From there, it is easy to extrapolate that if you tune your frequencies properly, you can achieve the exact mood you wish in your target. The man calling himself Kokopelli is nothing more than a brain-wave specialist with an expensive toy.”
Back to the reporter, who looks a wee bit uncomfortable.
Several other experts have come forward, suggesting similar theories. Mind control rays. Drugs in the drinking water. A media conspiracy.
Cut to three scientists in different offices, with graphs and machines, then back to the reporter.
Here at News Flash, we thought we would go directly to the source. Many of the so-called gods would not speak to us.
Clip of the reporter chasing down a car, and then after the car, a man with long catlike ears and a dark cat tail, running on foot. Clip after clip of doors being shut in the report’s face.
But Kokopelli agreed to our interview. We met with him in a small café, shown right behind me here.
The café’s windows are broken in, the front door off its hinges.
We cannot show most of the interview. We do not know what the so-called god Kokopelli was wielding, whether it was mind-control rays, or some sort of Rohypnol-like drug. We do know that we were ambushed with something.
The reporter snugs his tie uncomfortably.
The city of Casa Grande has not yet decided what they will do about this menace. No crime has yet been proven, although it is certain that several will eventually be laid at his door.
When that day comes, we at News Flash will bring to you the coverage of a would-be god brought low. From Casa Grande, I’m Guy Peterka.
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