A startling vision of dystopia

LORD Gibberyjabberath the god-hawk of gold descends from the sky, towards Zion, where I sit by the river, a thousand cubits in breadth, We dare not speak his name, it has a beak of bronze and a mighty piercing beak.

The Nazis crawl over the surface of the mighty steam god, the furnaces burn and the slaves toil under the hot sun of the upper atmosphere. Oxygen is sparse the workers fall easily and we sometimes see their flailing bodies fall into the grey sea that surrounds Zion.

A Sadducee of Zion, I have spent my ten years onboard the hawk, and I write by candlelight in my cloister on the paradise. We work for a decade in the steam pits of Gibberyjabberath that dark and avian bowel in the sky and then we come here, to live out the next ten years in heaven.

The Nazis built the hawk in the 50s after they won the war. A giant god in the sky, benevolently watching over us it forged us a new Zion out of the charred earth. The untermenschen work all their lives under whip and chain, we the master race must only serve half our lives onboard the great bird.

They preserved Hitler’s body and he roams The Birds’s decks in his ZORD made with Goebbels and Hess.

Mark and John arrive:

Mark, it is good, ten years I have worked and ten years rest I shall have

A time for toil, and a time for rest,

I time to let go of prize posess’d

A time to work on the giant gold hawk

A time not to work on the giant gold hawk

A time to time for a boy in his years of youth

A time for breaking down the surface of the world

and a time for building up

John: We must destroy the hawk Gibberyjabberath, it is not worth the toil to sweat and burn and toil aboard the wheels of the giant hawk

Mark, you are wrong, you oxen rapist

John, you are a child molester

Guys, guys, he’s a child molester

Mark: silence John!

You know there are no nonces in nirvana