SYNOPSIS: A political poem aimed specifically at the Australian Prime Minister
Dear Madam Australian Prime Minister
there are some answers I wish for you to administer
in regards to the questions I have for you.
I have the time, and I certainly hope you have some too
to explain away the actions that you have made this year already and in the past,
and to give me the necessary closure, with the longevity to last.
I want to know why you have made so many changes, political and otherwise. I hope I haven’t alarmed you, nor startled you suddenly with a surprise,
because since I love this sun burnt and ruggedly beautiful country with an intense passion and I live inside her too,
I would like to know the reasons behind many of the changes that have been deliberately orchestrated by you.
Do you believe friendship can exist in the political arena? Do you think your predecessor did at one time?
That is of course before you assassinated him in a way that can only be described as outrageously sublime.
Now with your power reasserted, do you finally believe you have full control?
Do you moreover believe when the next election comes you will decimate the opposition at the polls?
Do you think your cabinet respects you? Do you think the Australian public will?
You have made some extraordinarily disastrous betrayals, which, although powerful are horrific still,
for instance, the carbon tax, which was not supposed to be instigated, or so I hear;
might I ask, is this the end of some massively alarming changes, or just the tip of the political spear?
I would like to know, Madam Australian Prime Minister, in you can we all find trust?
And you might reply ‘well, I am the leader of this great country, so I do suppose you inevitably must.’
Moreover, Madam Prime Minister, how are you adjusting to the life that is political fame?
Do you like that some people wave at you, some shake their heads, and people who didn’t know you now know your name?
Might I ask, how is this on you family? Do they respect each and every one of your decisions?
How will it be for them if this country suddenly falls into chaos or even total recession?
I guess this is one of the more major points I wish to stress; when you make decisions for the people, do you think of your family too?
Is there any available room in this political poem for them as well, or do you wish for me to solely aim all of my questions at you?
Furthermore, do you feel you are developing a paradise? A Garden of Eden? A stereotypical image of Heaven?
Do you think anyone agrees with you? Why don’t we ask leader of the Opposition Tony Abbot, or why not former Prime Minister Rudd, Kevin?
Moreover, some of your opponents have implied that you are some kind of devil,
whilst many of your supporters revere you for being some kind of savior; a heroine; a blessed angel.
Might you please state to me, in your own words, how you would honestly describe yourself?
Are you an honest, decent hardworking woman? Are you secured economically with a good amount of wealth?
It’s just that every year you seem to give yourself another substantial raise,
and journalists and reporters alike explain how you deserve it, along with all our praise.
I just can’t imagine how someone can be worth so much economically.
I mean, what is this? It’s not like the government is in need of a surplus of charity!
Do you provide yourself with every dollar you believe that you deserve? Is several hundred thousand dollars what you believe yourself to be worth?
At the same time on the streets there are people in need of this money, often from the moment of their birth.
This system is a lot like a monarchy, and since I was not born into such luxurious accommodations, I do not get anything.
My friend asks me ‘how much do you think the PM will make this year?’ and I reply, ‘how long’s a piece of string?’
Now, I ain’t asking you to confess all your secrets, but if allowed, which ones could you tell?
Would you reassure me this country is stable, and that we aren’t bound for Hell?
Would you reassure me that you are the one political leader this country truly needs?
Would you truly lay down your life for her? Would you sweat? Would you cry? Would you bleed
until there was nothing else you could honestly do to make this country any more beautiful?
Are you planning for a good many changes ahead for Australia, or are you planning for something really dreadful?
Would you reassure me that everything you have orchestrated is going according to plan?
Would you say to me ‘Derek, I am this country’s only hope. If I cannot do this, I assure you, nobody else can.’
Moreover, what about same sex marriage, or is this a topic for another day?
Would you be more open on the subject if your partner’s daughter were gay?
Do you not believe people should be given the option to love whoever they wish?
Do you not believe lovers should seal their bond with a lovers kiss?
On another note, why is it that all asylum seekers appear to get more rights than what I or anyone else would ever receive?
Why is it they can do almost anything, but I’m not allowed to do what I want to achieve?
Why was the job I recently applied for given to somebody who only just arrived in this country, and who is new to this state?
Is this the new definition of ‘fair’, or am I to always be the Australian too late?
Why does it seem you do not care for people, such as myself, whose family has lived in this country for more than eight generations?
Why does it seem you care more for people who are not even legitimate Australian citizens?
You adjunctively help other countries who are in need, but if the shoe was on the other foot, would they ever help us in return?
I don’t think they ever would. In fact, if this country were on fire, I think they would rather watch us burn.
I realise in the past you have expressed how it is our cultural diversity that makes our country so great,
but did you ever believe that it could breed animosity, fear, paranoia, and even provide the people of this nation with reasons to hate?
There are so many people who cannot marry the ones they love because of the differences in cultural backgrounds.
It is moreover taxing that nobody listens when I complain, but the government drops everything the second an asylum seeker makes a sound.
Furthermore, why is it when Australians are called ‘racists’ you do not hit back and say ‘that’s an outrageous lie’?
If we are such racists, why do we have so many soldiers overseas fighting for peace and prosperity who are doomed to die?
If we are such racists, why does a loving husband with two young children go to stop a war that is not his fight?
Why does his wife, ten months later, if we are such racists, need to explain to her children that daddy won’t be coming home tonight?
If we are such racists, why do we send our heroes to fight beside our American brothers on the front lines?
Why are our brave men and women of the Australian forces dying overseas from bullets, shrapnel and land mines?
I ask you, how many terrorist attacks have been stopped on beloved Australian soil over the past five years?
If we are such racists, who are these extremists who wished to kill thousands of people and leave their families in tears?
Why do you persist the continuation of a war we obviously do not belong in?
Do you feel the deaths of our men and women are on your head? Do you feel the blood of the armed forces running across your skin?
Why do you follow the American President and almost everything he chooses to do?
I never did realise we were the fifty first state of America; instead, I believed our Prime Minister was you.
Do you ask God for His forgiveness, for His solace, for His love before you go to sleep?
Any promises you make in regards to the questions I have asked of you will you forever and always keep?
Honestly, if you could guarantee our future and promise that our lives, you could protect,
you are the one politician, Madam Australian Prime Minister, I would only too gladly reelect.
On another note, what about the growing problems concerning the emergency services?
Can you assure me you could do something about reducing the time it takes for the arrival of ambulances?
What about the underpaid workers and the lacking number of staff maintaining our hospitals?
In regards to this question, before you fathom an appropriate response, do you really have a good rebuttal?
And what about the underperformances of students and teachers at our local schools?
Should students not sparkle with intellect within the classroom like radiant jewels?
In your plans for the future of our country, do any of them concern education?
If the children are our future I feel terrible for the next generation,
who will be unable to read, unable to write and unable to perform basic arithmetic.
Is it just me, or is stupidity becoming a nationwide pandemic?
Do you have a cure? Do you have a plan? Or do you plan to simply watch the problem escalate and grow?
If you want Australians to vote for you I believe you need to let them know
that you care for their concerns, for their children and for the future of this great country.
However, this Q&A of ours, it could never actually happen in reality.
I hope you are not Prime Minister for the power, but the responsibility.
Perhaps there might come a day when you could take the time to answer a question or two for me.
The opinion I have of this country’s government moreover has been jaded and I don’t think it’s that good.
If I’m not the only one believing this, then change is mandatory, and if you can do so, I believe you should.
Until then however I shall wish you luck because I believe you are going to need it in the future.
Disappointment is a terribly ugly disease and I hope you will someday become our one necessary cure.
Synopsis: A synthetic super soldier, accompanied by a team of space marines, goes on a suicide mission to assassinate a renegade militarised leader.
‘I lost my entire team. It was then, under the fluorescent moons and the tranquil stars that it happened; I truly became a ghost. Absent of life, love and soul. Then, as I felt something inside me wither and die, I felt nothing at all – but pain.’
August 10th, 2291, 15:47p.m
Space Station Acquilous, orbiting planet Morta
‘We have an assignment that requires your immediate attention’ barked Commander Frankes as his deployment team stood to attention before him, each dressed in dark blue military uniforms.
His face was heavily lined from age, his eyes looking weary yet still full of life, with a massive scar placed across his left eye that made its way to the side of his mouth.
‘You will descend to the planet under the cover of an asteroid bombardment and eliminate renegade parliamentarian Joseph Welsh. We have tracked him to an isolated part of the planet, but numerous enemy troops have been detected in the area. Safe to say this is a covert exercise. If you are spotted, you are subsequently on your own. You do however, have a late arrival to your squad’ continued Frankes as Captain Rawlings grunted ‘perfect.’
‘And this new addition we might add is a synthetic’ said Frankes, the team breaking into an argumentative uproar.
‘But sir, the synthetic program was disbanded’ said Church in a Spanish accent. ‘They were believed to be dangerous.’
‘They were bred to be dangerous’ explained Frankes as the synthetic dressed in full body armour which shone under the pale light of the fluorescent moons outside the station walked out beside him. A metallic helmet with a glistening visor prevented all from seeing the new addition’s face.
‘A fully operational biologically augmented super soldier in the flesh!’ cried Ross as though all of his dreams had just come true at the sight of the individual before him.
‘Don’t get too attached’ grunted Rawlings out from the corner of his mouth, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. ‘He’ll only be with us on this one operation before he gets shipped out to the other side of the universe, right?’ he asked, giving his commanding officer a dirty look as Frankes nodded at him. ‘Good riddance I say’ continued Rawlings with an angry grunt. ‘Synthetics are trouble and that is the one thing that we do not need on this operation.’
‘You speak as though from experience’ said Church. ‘Speak your mind with us boss.’
‘I worked with a synthetic on one of my first operations back when I was with a former squad’ grunted the Captain with a facial expression that clearly signified he did not want to be re-living such a memory. ‘We were tasked to take out a nuclear reactor that was being used by pirates to fuel the battle cruiser they were using to threaten the local planetary settlements. However, during the mission we were spotted and forced to lay down cover fire. The synthetic managed to successfully enter the reactor whilst we created a diversion and planted the explosive charge. Although this could be seen as a decisive victory for us, it certainly was not for me. I lost my entire team that day and that synthetic did not show an ounce of emotion when it happened. He did not flinch, he did not break; he did not say anything. He just moved on with his life.’ Rawlings took a deep breath before proceeding onwards. ‘True, they are good to have in a battle, but they are completely unreliable when it comes to complex human feelings. They simply just don’t have ‘em. They are cold and unemotional. Basically, they are walking, talking ghosts.’
‘Introduction’s all around’ smiled Frankes, interrupting the Captain before he had the opportunity to continue. ‘This is Captain Rawlings’ he said, nodding at a man with graying hair whose eyes were immersed in the colour black. His nose was oddly positioned upon his face, looking as though it had been broken numerous times in the past and had been quickly repaired on the battlefield by a corpsman rather than an actual trauma surgeon.
‘Church’ he noted, indicating a short female with dark flowing hair, a scar over her right eye. Even with this imperfection she still looked beautiful, her lips having a delicate shine to them. She appeared like all women were meant to; gorgeous and gentle, but underneath all of that you could tell there was a distinct danger lurking beneath her skin in the thing you could have once called a soul. It was her eyes that gave her away. They looked as though she had seen an awful lot in her time as a soldier; seeing things that nobody should ever have to; the kind of things that can alter ones perception of reality forever.
‘Tommbes’ he said, nodding at a giant black man with a shaven scalp. His skin was a light brown in colour and he had an overly large forehead. His eyes seemed rather small in comparison to the rest of his face, but unlike the other team members he looked more like a gentle giant rather than a heavily trained killing machine.
‘And Ross’ he said, pointing at a shorter male with white eyes. His hair too was the exact same colour, with a great, toothy smile plastered across his face. He looked more like a comedian than an actual soldier.
‘The code name given to your new synthetic team member is Ghost’ concluded Frankes.
‘Sounds appropriate’ muttered Rawlings under his breath as Frankes gave him a look that suggested he was through with the commentary on the subject of the synthetic super soldier.
‘I would have expected more from you Rawlings’ said Frankes in a stern tone of voice. ‘A person like you does not become squad commander lightly. So how about you quit all of your whining and mutterings and speak your mind out loud for all to hear.’
Rawlings looked at his team who each shrugged and moved their bodies in odd positions as though the each of them were at a loss for words. ‘Great’ grunted Rawlings, finding himself in the one position he did not wish to be – alone, in a room filled with his fellow comrades. ‘No offence sir, but I don’t need a babysitter’ grunted Rawlings.
‘You don’t have one’ shot back Frankes. ‘The synthetic will assassinate the target; you just need to keep ‘im alive.’
The team looked about to explode into a confrontational argument once more before Frankes barked ‘that’s an order! Now move out!’
With that, the team made their way down the hall to where numerous pods were positioned across the walls, each soldier entering their assigned pod before being jettisoned from the station. They flew through the cold darkness of space, a great asteroid field orbiting around the turquoise and jade coloured planet.
Whilst passing through the sea of asteroids, Rawlings’s pod was suddenly without warning clipped by a small meteorite fragment. Smoke began to protrude from the engines as his oxygen supply became grossly limited, his vessel going off course by a few degrees before plowing into a large piece of rock. The pod exploded on impact, his body flying out into the cold blackness of space.
Church cried out in anger as she saw what happened, the remaining pods being pulled in by the planet’s gravitational field towards the surface below.
August 10th, 2291, 16:29p.m
Surface of planet Morta
Church’s pod fell open as she crumpled to the moist ground beneath her, rising to her feet with a groan as she held her aching head. She looked at the luscious rainforest canopy surrounding her, taking out her Personal Data Assistant and scanning for the nearest team members. Picking up her sub-machinegun from the ground she slowly began to hurry in the appropriate direction.
Around her were plants; all of which were the likes that she had never seen, many comprised of colours that she had never believed plants could ever be made from.
Travelling for a few minutes, Church managed to discover Ross beside a glistening swamp. ‘Have you seen Tommbes?’ questioned Church. ‘His signal is coming from somewhere around here.’
‘Somebody get me out of here!’ cried out a muffled voice, Church turning to face the swampy lake before her. Tommbes’ pod was located in its centre, the suction slowly pulling the pod under as both Church and Ross looked at one another.
‘I’m not going in there’ said Church, folding her arms.
‘Who pulls me out if I get stuck?’ retorted Ross, just as a crunching sound was heard behind them, both soldiers pointing their firearms in the direction of the noise.
The synthetic appointed to their team suddenly came crashing through the undergrowth, sniper rifle in hand as the soldier took one look at Tommbes’ pod, before strolling straight into the swamp. Grabbing hold of the pod’s door, the synthetic ripped it from its hinges, throwing it across the swamp before picking up Tommbes by the scruff of the neck and throwing him onto dry land.
‘Did we all make it?’ cried out Tommbes as he crumpled to the ground.
‘No’ said Church mournfully. ‘We lost Rawlings.’
‘The mission is our only priority’ said the synthetic in a deep throaty voice, walking out from the swamp and swinging the rifle over the broad shoulders of its person, beginning to walk deeper into the wilderness after accessing the necessary co-ordinates from its PDA.
The remaining team members watched the synthetic, before Church began to gradually nod, now being bumped up the chain to the level of commanding officer of the team after the death of their beloved Captain, the each of them beginning to follow the synthetic super soldier.
After what felt like an hour, the team came to a standstill overlooking a cliff edge, the perfect vantage point to assassinate the target as the synthetic set up the sniper rifle and crouched down low, looking through the scope.
‘I hope he knows what he’s doing’ grunted Church.
‘Hey, he saved my life’ said Tommbes. ‘The least you could do is cut the guy some slack.’
‘I only meant it in relation to the mission’ shot back Church. ‘It would suck to have him spotted and killed this far into enemy territory.’
‘Were it so easy’ grunted the synthetic, listening in to every word they said whilst zooming in with the scope on the target’s location.
A large militarian outpost was positioned a few kilometres away, a menagerie of grey metallic buildings situated across the encampment with numerous soldiers patrolling the exterior of the installation. In the centre of the base was the parliamentarian they had been sent to neutralise; addressing the military formation standing before him as they cheered in appreciation for what he was saying. He had a dark moustache covering his upper lip and wore a blue militarian hat atop of his head, screaming at the top of his lungs whilst thrusting his hands in the air like a militarian dictator.
Squeezing the trigger, the synthetic fired a single round, the bullet after a few short seconds slamming into the head of the target. Striking him with more force than a magnum pointblank, the parliamentarian’s head was pulverised beyond recognition, blood showering the soldiers before him as an alarm was raised. Ghost quickly swung the rifle over its shoulder, the four soldiers beginning to pull out.
It wasn’t ten minutes later as they were escaping that Tommbes was suddenly clipped in the leg by a bullet, falling to the dense undergrowth as he groaned in pain, blood seeping from the wound. The others went to ground, attempting to find the enemy. With one shot, Ghost neutralised the enemy combatant. Moving towards Tommbes, Ghost was suddenly shot in the head, spinning around and ripping off the damaged helmet, throwing it to the ground before drawing a pistol, the team shocked by what they saw.
Standing before them was a blonde haired woman, her facial features surprisingly smooth, her eyes an ocean blue in colour which were instantly filled with fury as she fired on her attacker who crumpled to the ground. Ross made his way out into the open to help Tommbes, a bullet connecting with his head as blood profusely spilled out everywhere, his body falling over backwards.
‘We need immediate cover fire!’ cried out Ghost, her voice being silky and feminine, no longer the animalistic growl which had being heard through the helmet. Ghost helped Tommbes to his feet as the remaining three soldiers opened fire on the enemy combatants who were surrounding them. Bullets flew through the forest as trees became pulverised, the cries of animals running for cover echoing through the brush.
Ghost was hit in the chest by a round, the bullet ricocheting off from her armored suit as another bullet hit Tommbes in the neck, blood spurting out from his jugular as he collapsed onto the ground with a sickening cry of pain.
Ghost continued to fire rounds from her rifle, removing the empty clip and shoving in a new one, watching the enemy fall like flies before her as bullets were continuously released from the breach of her weapon. As the enemy converged on their position and continued to be depleted, Church thought for a second that they might be able to hold out long enough for a transport vessel to evacuate them to safety. But this hope of hers however was instantaneously destroyed as a mortar slammed into the ground beside her, blasting the landscape into oblivion as her world turned to black.
August 10th, 2291, 22:04p.m
Surface of planet Morta
Church lay in the embrace of Ghost’s arms, blood flowing gently out from her torso as she tried to raise her head. ‘Don’t move’ said Ghost firmly. ‘I’ve called in air support. They will come and pick us up in the next few minutes. Just hold on.’
Church looked up at Ghost, her features scarred with a few cuts and bruises, but ultimately she seemed to be in perfect working order. Church again attempted to raise her head, getting a glimpse of her body, one of her legs having being completely blown off in the blast. Pieces of flesh and the remnants of veins were all that remained of a once proud limb, the blood being stemmed by a health pack that Ghost had apparently used whilst she had been unconscious. Church lay back onto the ground and groaned in agony, looking up at the dark sky above. ‘Ghost, look at the stars’ said Church. ‘I never realised, but they all look so beautiful.’
‘Don’t talk’ replied Ghost.
‘Your codename, Ghost, what does it mean?’ asked Church.
‘It was a name, assigned to me at the moment of my initiation into the synthetic program’ replied Ghost. ‘All synthetics are given an identifiable name upon being recommended for combat duty.’ She said such lines as though reading them off a script.
‘I’m sorry we couldn’t protect you’ said Church. ‘We should have done better. But ultimately, what did you think of us, our performances on the field?’
‘You fought and died with valour, the way marines should’ answered Ghost. ‘You’re a soldier.’
‘And you’re a ghost, aren’t you?’ noted Church as Ghost looked at her in surprise. ‘That’s why you were given the name because of how cold and unemotional you are in the making of every decision.’
‘Don’t talk’ replied Ghost. ‘Conserve your strength.’
‘I won’t need it’ said Church, Ghost looking down at her in shock. ‘You know as well as I that I won’t make it. But you will and you will need all the strength you have for what I am going to ask of you. I want you to put aside all of your training and your overwhelming strength and promise me, that you will try to do the bravest and most daring thing of all; that you will try to do what we no longer can – that you will live, for us, the way any human should.’ With her last breath Church fell backwards into Ghost’s arms, her eyes rolling back into her head as she lay motionless in the presence of the synthetic.
As Ghost looked down on her, she felt a tear well up in her eye and fall down her cheek as she laid Church’s body to rest on the ground. She tore a cluster of flowers out from the ground and placed them onto Church’s chest, moving her deceased fingers into a cupped position atop of them. She looked remarkably at peace.
Over the radio Ghost heard a voice say ‘we will reach the extraction point in t-minus two minutes’ as Ghost rose to her feet, a feeling she had never felt before welling up inside her. Perhaps it was a long lost figment of humanity that had once been with her before her instigation into the synthetic program. Perhaps it was an incredibly strong emotional backlash from the words that Church had just said to her, words which had hit home; had hit hard. It was uncertain where such a feeling was coming from. All Ghost knew was that the feeling was there; and it was tearing a hole right through her.
Taking a small red container out from a pouch on her back, she gripped it tightly in both hands, remembering what Frankes had said to her;
‘If you or your team are captured, use this. It’s a miniature nuke, which will completely eradicate you, your team, and anyone else in the vicinity for a few thousand miles. We can’t allow any of you to fall into enemy hands. But you must promise me that none of your team members find out about this. If they knew they were going on a suicide mission, none of them would have signed up for it.’
Ghost swallowed as she spoke into the radio. ‘I lost my entire team’ she began, taking a few steps forward.
‘Ghost, what the hell are you doing?’ cried a voice over the radio after she had finished speaking, hearing the sound of enemy reinforcements converging on her position. Taking off the gauntlet on her right hand, she pressed her palm onto the screen of the device which instantly registered her fingerprints and instigated the weapon. ‘I’m going home’ she said, just as an explosion rocked the entire planet, the world of Morta descending into silence.