Culture War (10 page)

“
At least it appears our
students still have some spunk,” said the spider commander. “They
are willing to stand up to humanity. We are going to kick some
human pestilence butt Friday night!” The spider commander sent
Guido a text message asking what the line was on the
Tarantula-versus-Wolves game.

They continued their inspection, walking the
hallways of the school, looking for signs of American
contamination. The spider commander confronted a spider freshman
wearing a Swoosh on his tennis shoes. “Don’t you know that shoe was
manufactured in America?” asked the spider commander, shaking the
freshman by the collar. “That Swooshstika is an emblem of the
enemy!”

“
Chill, dude,” said the
freshman. “Of course they are made in the USA. These aren’t
knockoffs. I paid good money. These are Air Nikes. All the premo
professional basketball players on Arthropoda wear Air Nikes! The
waffle design has awesome traction, and Air Nikes are especially
made for spider feet.”

The spider commander let go of the student,
who then hurried away to the pep rally, muttering about stupid
senile adults. “We have lost the Culture War,” lamented the spider
commander. “What can we do to fight this? What shall I tell the
governor? Their Goddess of Victory is everywhere. We have been
overrun!”

“
Perhaps we should just
join the United States Galactic Federation before it is too late,”
suggested the military intelligence officer. “We could all become
rich Americans.”

“
That is not funny,” hissed
the spider commander. “Recommending surrender to the governor is
not an option. Be more careful. Your joke sounds of defeatism and
treason.”

“
Quite right,” said the
military intelligence officer. “I was just kidding. A few snotty,
disrespectful, badly dressed teenagers is not the end of the world,
and certainly not the end of our culture. Teenagers are notorious
for poor decision-making. That’s why they need us to guide them.
So, don’t let it get you down, sir. How about we require a strict
dress code at all schools? Even better, how about mandatory school
uniforms? That will fix the little baggy-pants Swooshstika-wearing
mush heads.”

“
I like that,” said the
spider commander. “It’s so simple, it just might work. You think
uniforms will have an immediate positive impact against the
Swooshstika and that bitch Goddess Nike?”

“
Yes,” said the military
intelligence officer. “Just do it,” he added impulsively,
subconsciously echoing the sentiment on the Swoosh tee-shirt he’d
gotten from Guido.

“
Old fart!” yelled a spider
freshman from the exit door. “I won’t wear no stinking
uniform!”

The spider commander nodded to his military
intelligence officer, who immediately raced after the obnoxious
teen. He was easy to catch, what with his baggy pants causing him
to stumble. The military intelligence officer produced duct tape
from his first aid kit, and taped shut the struggling juvenile’s
mouth. The spider commander broke open a hallway locker, and the
military intelligence officer stuffed the freshman inside.

“
Ha!” exclaimed the spider
commander. “I feel better already. Reminds me of the good old days
back in school. This is what I have been talking about.
Time-honored traditions, like keeping freshmen in their place, must
be maintained!”

“
Seniors rule, freshmen
drool!” agreed the military intelligence officer as he slammed the
locker shut. “Another use for duct tape!”

* * * * *

Legionnaire recruit Private Walter Knight
waited in line to get his new Nike-sponsored uniform. The whole
First Division was being issued brand new sagebrush-colored combat
fatigues and equipment.
That black Nike Swoosh is going to look
good on my shoulder patch,
thought Private Knight. More
Swooshes adorned his fatigue shirt chest pocket, tee-shirt collar,
and jump boots. Camouflage-blended Swooshes contributed to the
patchwork of desert colors of the new combat fatigues. High-tech
camouflage had just met style.

“
Damn I’m going to look
good in this uniform,” commented Private Knight, tossing his old
uniforms in a bin. “This uniform even smells good. It smells like
peaches.”

“
That would be my lunch,”
said Private Barbara Thayer, in line behind him. “Want a
peach?”

“
No thank you,” said
Private Knight. “Peaches are fuzzy. I won’t eat anything fuzzy.
Usually.”

“
First time for everything.
Are you flirting with me, Mr. Knight?”

“
What?” asked Private
Knight, deciding to accept a peach after all. He took a large bite.
“Your peach, Ms. Thayer, tastes sweet and juicy. Just like you. Do
you believe in love at first bite?”

“
It’s a Georgia peach,”
said Private Thayer. “You aren’t just flirting with me. You are
leering at me. Don’t you know that leering is not allowed in
today’s modern workplace? Did you miss that memo?”

“
Guys have no control over
leering. Mere female movement attracts our attention. It’s an
instinctual throwback from the caveman days.”

“
Well Mr. Caveman, leering
is not allowed between legionnaires,” announced Private Thayer,
primly. “At least not while on duty.”

“
Then I can’t wait to get
off duty,” replied Private Knight, still leering.

“
Have another peach,”
suggested Private Thayer, tossing it to him. “It will quench your
thirst.”

“
Not likely. In this heat,
I need more.”

“
You haven’t said two words
to me the whole time we have been in basic training,” said Private
Thayer, playfully punching Knight in the stomach. “Now I can’t shut
you up. Mama told me to watch out for you silent types. Looks like
I’ve found me one now. But are you a keeper?”

“
I’m too big to throw back.
You have to keep me.”

“
Keep deluding yourself.
What shall I do with you?”

“
Feed me?” suggested
Private Knight.

“
No. You are like a puppy.
If I give you food, you will follow me everywhere.”

“
I think you look good in
Swooshes,” commented Private Knight. “Do you have Swooshes on your
underwear, like I do? On your bra?”

“
I have Swooshes
everywhere,” answered Private Thayer. “Even though it is more
information than you need, my bra has only one Swoosh.”

“
Somehow I pictured two
Swooshes.”

“
I’m sure,” said Private
Thayer. “Some of us from B Platoon are going up to the reservoir
for a picnic this Saturday. Want to come? I’ll bring more
fruit.”

“
Yes!” replied Private
Knight. “But I thought the reservoir was off limits because spiders
frequent it. Isn’t the canal right on the MDL?”

“
We are the Legion,” said
Private Thayer, mimicking their drill sergeants. “We go where we
please. Are you afraid of the big bad spiders? Not me!”

“
Not me either. It’s a
date. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“
Just make sure you bring
your gun fully loaded. Just in case. I believe in taking
precautions. I’m a safety girl.”

“
My gun is always fully
loaded,” bragged Private Knight. “I’ll bring my assault rifle and
some fireworks from the armory, too.”

“
Boyz are alwayz thinking
about their toyz,” commented Private Thayer, as she left for the
barracks to change. “See you Saturday, dog.”

“
Woof, woof!”

* * * * *

Arthropoda is a hot, dry, and arid planet,
described by human visitors as a godforsaken wasteland. Its
monotonous weather is caused by a lack of large oceans. The
reptilian and exoskeleton-based lifeforms that evolved under those
harsh desert conditions by necessity do not consume much food or
water. To spider colonists accustomed to such Spartan conditions,
New Colorado seemed like paradise. Still, the abundance of water on
New Colorado required some getting used to. For example, swimming
for recreation was truly an alien concept to spiders. Even so, some
spiders taught themselves how to swim. Classes in the public
schools offered free swimming lessons and instructions on water
safety.

Most spiders still instinctively feared the
water. Accidental drowning still took many lives among the many
lakes, rivers, and canals of New Colorado. It was said spiders sink
like a rock in water, and it was true. However, the attitude among
many spiders was that if the human pestilence could swim and enjoy
the water, so could spiders.

The increase in popularity of water sports
among spiders made the New Gobi Reservoir Recreational Park
District a very well-frequented place. After a while, it grew to be
used almost exclusively by spider families from both sides of the
MDL. The hot New Gobi weather made the park an excellent year-round
water playground for swimming, boating, water skiing, and angling.
The reservoir was still shared with the human pestilence, but not
many humans used it anymore. Only Legion water techs showed their
ugly faces at the park to check water levels and for routine
maintenance on the dam.

Privates Knight and Thayer and ten other
legionnaires arrived at the reservoir in a Legion Armored car with
picnic baskets of food and swimming gear.

“
Where are all the people?”
asked Private Knight.

“
I saw a man as we entered
the park,” said Private Camacho. “Oops! They got him!”

“
We’re the Legion,” boasted
Private Thayer. “We will go where we please. No one will mess with
us. Try to relax. If spiders smell fear, they might
attack.”

“
That’s right,” added
Private Knight. “Just act like you come here all the
time.”

“
How would you rookies know
anything about spiders?” asked Private Camacho. “Spiders can’t
smell. Man, they don’t even have noses.”

“
Spiders have those
mandible things,” insisted Private Thayer. “They can smell. You
don’t know.”

As they were checking out the neighborhood, a
park ranger patrol car pulled alongside the armored car. A spider
park ranger got out to talk to the young legionnaires. “Why is the
Legion here?” asked the spider park ranger. “I have everything
under control. No one requested your assistance. There is no
problem here.”

“
We
are
the
problem,” bragged Private Camacho, as the legionnaires unloaded
food and beer. “We’re here for broads, boogie, and booze. Last one
in the water naked gets arrested!”

“
I suggest you leave,” said
the spider park ranger. “This is a quiet family-orientated park
used by spiders only.”

“
I have heard that,”
replied Private Camacho. “That’s why we brought our token spider,
Private John Iwo Jima Wayne. He’s the baddest spider legionnaire on
the planet.”

“
I heard Wayne has been
busted back to private so many times they’ve lost count,” whispered
Private Thayer. “Rumor is he used to be a bad-ass insurgent leader
and a spider marine Special Forces commander. He even once hit
Czerinski during an inspection and lived to tell about
it.”

“
I doubt that,” commented
Private Knight.

Private Wayne got out of the armored car,
looking like he just woke up and needed coffee. He was already
irritated about being talked into coming along by a bunch of smelly
human pestilence recruits. Noticing the spider park ranger just
irritated him more. “What is your major malfunction?”

“
I am just trying to keep
the peace,” explained the spider park ranger. “Usually your human
pestilence friends don’t recreate here. There’s an unwritten rule
humans go to the other reservoir west of New Gobi City. This park
is for spiders only.”

“
This is the USGF side of
the MDL,” commented Private Wayne, still waking up and orientating
himself to sunlight. “We have a right to be here.”

“
There has in the past been
a military exception,” said the park ranger. “But you would still
have to pay a damage deposit.”

“
That 50-cal machine gun
atop my racer says we are staying,” said Private Wayne, now fully
alert and getting upset. “And I am not paying any
deposit.”

“
There is no drinking
allowed in the park,” warned the spider park ranger, noticing the
six-packs being unloaded. “It’s the law.”

“
Jesus H. Christ!”
exclaimed the large spider legionnaire. Private Wayne gave the
matter some thought. Colonel Czerinski had already put him on
probation for assaulting some fool bartender who cut him off. Now
this fool was saying no booze in the park? “Fine! You all heard the
fish cop! No drinking in the park! Light them up if you got
them!”

“
Sir, what are you
smoking?” asked the spider park ranger. “That had better not be
marijuana.”

“
That does it!” yelled
Private Wayne, losing his temper. He picked up the park ranger and
tossed him into the reservoir. The spider park ranger sank like an
anchor. Legionnaires jumped into the water to save him. Dragged
back to shore gasping for breath, the ranger was so grateful for
being saved from a watery grave that he did not bother the
legionnaires for the rest of the day. He even tolerated the
alcohol.

Privates Knight and Thayer laid out a blanket
on the beach sand while the others swam and splashed in the
reservoir. Private Wayne, not liking water, sat in the armored car,
listening to ancient golden-oldies recordings of the Beach Boys
human pestilence band.