A deregger colony espoused that they would have a thousand-year reign. They have held onto their power, and the colony fanatically believed in that thousand year reign. It is year 999.
None of their lore held anything to indicate what would happen after the thousand year reign. -- Anon Guest
One thousand years of glory! The posters were everywhere. This year, on Landing Day, would be the thousandth year of glorious progression towards a better and more deserving future. One thousand years of the shining CEO's reigning over all others in their appointed place. The loyal and the hard-working and those who gave their all to the greater gears of progress prospered, whilst the lazy, shiftless, and stupid all worked in the prison-factories for their daily gruel and simple cot in the cells where they belonged.
One thousand years, Bili thought, of nobody to blame but those who came with them. There were still conspiracy theories - there were always conspiracy theories - containing all kinds of invisible organisations for the CEO's to defeat. All ones who managed to lie their way aboard the original colony ship or arrive via alien intervention through a secret organisation determined to destroy their freedom and peace.
There had to be secret organisations undermining the perfect plan of the CEO's, because the divine plan of the invisible hand was to create greater joy and prosperity for the deserving and earnest. Those who prospered, were naturally deserving and earnest. How else could they be expected to get where they were? Of course they earned their place through hard work and smart strategies. To think otherwise is to be a part of the secret organisations undermining the perfect plan.
So it was, for almost a thousand years. If the air is unhealthy, you can buy freshened air for a moderate price. The market will find an acceptable cost for air. If the water is foul, then just buy it by the bottle. If you are sick, it is because you were infected by micro-robots from the secret organisations or you are trying to undermine the perfect plan and you are one of THEM.
If you are one of THEM, report yourself immediately before we have to declare war on you.
Executions will continue daily until morale improves.
That is, until someone asks an innocent question in the Executive in Chief's weekly pep rally.
"After the anniversary, what are your plans?"
For one thousand years, there had only been one plan. One thousand years of business doing whatever it wanted with no consequences beyond pure profit. One thousand years of growth and profits accelerating. Now that plan was coming to an end and there had to be something more.
Alas, the Executive in Chief was not smart enough to realise any of that and said, "Well I'm taking a day off to play golf." The media laughed dutifully and cooed approval as mandated by the law.
"What about the day after?" said the questioner. "What about the year after?"
The rambling reply contained a lot of the phrase, "Something big," as if he could summon it with his words and not have to think.
Not having to think was pretty big on this world. That was its problem, though none could see it by now. Easy and often violent solutions were the only way. Strong action! Heavy enforcement. Punish the wicked and elevate the good. You had to know the wicked were wicked because they were the ones who were failing. Trust in the system. The system will put you in your place.
It was the day after golf day that the aliens really came. They came as they had never come before. Not to isolated farmers possibly high on methane-sourced drugs or moonshine made out of corn husks[1], but to cities. To centres of civilisation. To the multiple cameras of the Media willing to cause a panic if it would make people support their sponsors.
There was rioting. There were parties. It all depended on who believed what. Sometimes, the only way to tell the difference was how many guns were there.
They hovered in the sky and backed off when the Executive in Chief ordered the armies to launch their missiles. There hadn't been a real war in centuries, and the right side won of course, but there was always the threat of the defeated enemy emerging from the literal ashes to be a threat once more.
That seemed to be that. The next thousand years were going to be an intrastellar war now that the aliens had showed up. Which lead to the corporate-funded space race.
At last, the Executive in Chief had an idea. They were going to conquer the universe and it would be easy, because look at how successful they were already.
They were going to get the shock of their lives when they met the aliens on their moon base and discovered that they were just more Humans from a different colony. A colony of neo-naturalist environmentally-conscious social justice folk who actually had a thousand years of peace, prosperity, and progress for all.
The aliens also had technology that rendered war obsolete.
These particular Dereggers were going to be pissed.
[1] Humanity can, has, and will go to extreme lengths just to make their brains malfunction for a while. If all they have is cow farts and corn husks, they will make it out of that.
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