"Race Riot"
In the back of the smoke filled noisy bar was a door, which opened into a
private room. The door was well guarded by two huge bald-headed men, one a
Korean and the other a combination of Turk and Irish. Both wore loose fitting
military-style combat fatigues. No one in his or her right (or wrong) mind ever
thought of going near that door. For everyone and their friends knew that the
Bad-Man himself, Little Teddy, held his high court in there. Little Teddy was
beheld in awe by all of his people and his was the final word in all matters. He
solved all disputes. All of the black dealers and pushers and pimps and working
girls and street runners worked either for him, or for someone else who did work
for him.
Basically, Little Teddy taxed all criminal activities, and viewed himself as
being a ‘provider of services’. As a general contractor, he delegated work out
to various individuals, sub-contractors and other small `companies', according
to the job to be done. Little Teddy had first managed to squeeze out the Italian
Mafia, and then had proceeded to chase the Puerto-Rican `Macheteros' out of his
part of the city.
The blacks whom had been left, (that is, those who still sought to do any kind
of business), had quickly found out that there were really only three options
left open to them: Working for Little Teddy, relocating, or being found dead.
This simple reorganizing tactic worked amazingly well, and, after a few dozen
grisly deaths, everything had sifted down into a comfortable routine.
Until now, in his drug operations. Little Teddy had found out that his South
American heroin connection was orchestrating another price war. He saw any rise
in his wholesale costs as a slap, or spit, in his face, and took it as though
someone were personally picking his pocket.
And that was why he was now meeting in the back room of the bar with Kung Pao,
who was in the Chinese import business. They were winding up the negotiations on
a deal whereby Pao became Teddy's new drug source. The price was right, and the
quality of the merchandise was better.
As Pao left the bar, Teddy's two door-guards escorted him to his waiting
limousine. When the limo pulled away from the curb the two guards went back
inside to Teddy, who was still flanked by his two personal guards. Little Teddy
was smiling. He was about to realize a 25% increase in profit due to those
`sneaky yellow bastards', as he referred to all Orientals.
He sat back and puffed away on a contraband Cuban cigar, idly daydreaming of the
day when the blacks would rise against the whites, and take back that which by
right should be theirs. The four bodyguards stood by emotionlessly as Little
Teddy stared through the cigar smoke, thinking of the Watts riots of the
sixties, and the L.A. riots of the nineties. And Dr. King. And Malcolm X. And
Cleaver, Seale, and of all the unknown names. And Rodney King. Time was quickly
running out on Whitey, for Little Teddy had almost enough money to outfit his
area's army...
Meanwhile, Kung Pao motioned to his chauffeur to drive away, and the customized
Mitsubishi pulled off from the curb in such an agile and graceful way, that the
surrounding Cadillac and Lincoln owners were left in states of open lust and
envy.
Pao spoke softly to his chief aide: "These blacks, they seem to be ignorant of
long range thinking." The chief aide nodded silently. Pao spoke again: "He is
one big fish in a small pond. And there are many such ponds, each one with its
big fish. If all the ponds were joined, and all the big fish united in purpose,
they could control the waters. And the fisherman harvests the fish in his sea.
Our people shall one day soon begin to harvest this sea of plenty. We are within
months of realizing the ultimate fulfillment of our people's plan. All will be
well."
Kung Pao drifted off in thought, as the armor plated Mitsubishi hummed toward
the next city in the chain...
Shaka Kinte: "Brothers! Sisters! The time is near! The white man will know and
fear our power, and soon. 25 cities, count them, 25! All across America! It will
begin with the main eleven cities: LA, Miami, Atlanta, Detroit, Pittsburgh,
Baltimore, New York, Boston, St. Louis, New Orleans, and Chicago!!! All on the
same day, brothers. Dig it. All at the same time! Even the National Guard won't
be able to control it! We are going to shut this country down, my brothers! Can.
You... Dig...It?"
The applause was deafening. Shaka, leader of the ‘Sons of Kunta’, pressed on:
"And then the rest: Newark, Hartford, Buffalo, Richmond, Selma, Montgomery,
Tallahassee, Jackson, Vegas, and Winston-Salem, Austin, Seattle, Cleveland, and
even Washington D.C. itself! Some 25 cities. All the big ones. And all ours!
THIS COUNTRY IS OURS, IF WE ARE WILLING TO TAKE IT. TELL ME, ARE WE READY TO
TAKE IT!!??"
There was a roar from the crowd, and Shaka bid them all a goodnight, before
being spirited away by his aides. He was still enjoying the feeling from his
earlier meeting with his seventy-five generals, an average of three each from
the 25 chosen major cities.
Everyone would be ready for the next New Year's Eve. Shaka would have preferred
a warmer time of year, but apparently Kung Pao was adamant about it being on New
Year's Eve, shortly after midnight. And Shaka could not argue with the man. For
without Kung Pao, there would be no low priced heroin available. And without the
heroin, there would be no money for the revolution. So that was that. It would
happen on New Year's Eve… Kung Pao was finally able to report to his boss, the
Chinese ambassador, that all was prepared, the code word was `Genghis', and the
delighted Chinese ambassador immediately left for Beijing on a private jet. By
the following morning, the plans were set into motion.
Several cargo boats, carrying millions of dollars worth of cheap plastic toys,
made by child-slave-laborers earning at the most perhaps 17 cents per hour,
arrived every day in every port of the U.S. Along with the toys, they also
carried many tons of processed heroin, destined for the streets of the major
American cities.
Kung Pao was a high ranking Chinese counter-intelligence operative who had
received the honor of being asked to infiltrate the drug dealers in 25 major
U.S. cities, in such a way that the Chinese government would end up in control
of the supplying of heroin to the local distributors. This had taken some time,
but was not all that difficult. He had leaked to the U.S. government secret
files on all of his country's information concerning the existing suppliers. The
resulting busts had crippled those wholesalers, driving up their prices, while
depleting their stockpiles, and they had faded out of the picture.
Only Kung Pao could promise to produce a higher quality product at a lower
price. Deals were made nationwide, and the new, more potent narcotics hit the
streets of America during the first few hot summer weeks. The cops became
frantic; the overdoses were too many to count. The crime rate went through the
roof and the coming months would turn out to be increasingly more brutal.
All the while, the people whom Kung Pao represented just waited. The second wave
of their invasion of the U.S. was well planned out, and ready to be executed. On
New Year's Eve. So Kung Pao relaxed in San Francisco, looking at his calendar.
Just seven more short weeks of waiting. Then he would become a part of history,
as was his destiny.
New Year's Eve:
Shaka Kinte was turning his head from side to side, his eyes sweeping the crowd
before him, as the hooded man squeezed on the trigger. Shaka's eyes crossed as
the bullet entered his nasal cavity, and exited his skull, sucking one eye out
with it, and leaving a fist sized hole at the back of his head.
During the ensuing chaos, no one paid attention to the little oriental man, with
a collapsible stock A.K.47 under his long coat, as he wandered out of the park.
Then two things happened fast. The blacks went on a rampage, and the scared
whites got out their guns. The media fanned the flames, and by morning, a race
war would be crippling the country.
It has been estimated that perhaps forty percent of White America has Chinese
food on New Year's Eve. Which would be approximately sixty million people. When
the rioting started, large amounts of people were already at the overcrowded
hospitals and clinics, with severe bowel disorders. By six a.m., the National
Center for Disease Control had declared a botulism epidemic of unknown origin.
When it finally became obvious to the federal agency that this was a case of
biological warfare, the armed services were called in. Approximately eighty
percent of the blacks refused to mobilize. This alone created an administrative
nightmare, and by the time that the government was able to get organized enough
to confront the situation, the twenty-five major U.S. cities were under black
rule. The mostly non-black death toll was already in the many thousands.
The Americans paid no notice to the fact that the west coast was lined up with
Chinese merchant freighters, who waited patiently, a few miles offshore, safely
drifting around in circles in the international Pacific waters. The coast guard
was preoccupied with protecting the big port cities. Most of the navy was
elsewhere in the world, protecting every other country but its own.
Jan 2:
Meanwhile, Kung Pao sat in his luxurious stateroom aboard the Chinese embassy
ship, sipping warm rice wine. He was smiling. The country of America was in a
state of emergency, and was fast approaching chaos. All available armed forces
personnel were surrounding the fallen cities. They awaited orders from the
President, who was up in the sky aboard Air Force One, her temporary new office
and home. From there, she issued her hourly, around the clock state of the union
addresses...
Jan. 3:
As the eyes of the world watched in disbelief, the converted Chinese cargo ships
that were offshore maneuvered themselves into position to fire 25 missiles, each
with a nuclear payload. All but one hit their mark. The miss was Boston, where
the missile overshot and landed just offshore of Nova Scotia. The U.S.A. was
effectively neutralized.
So much for the cities and the armies surrounding them. Other missiles took out
Langley, the Pentagon, and Norad, which remained buried, but radioactive.
America was then in effect a Chinese territory, and all that was left intact
were the farmlands and the forests. Which is what the Chinese had wanted all
along anyway. The Blacks had served a very useful purpose, by distracting the
white man long enough for the yellow man to conquer. With control of the world's
food supply, the country of Chinamerica would gain ownership of the world, one
starving nation at a time. Kung Pao's leaders had the very impressive goal of
seeing to it that the entire planet would be inhabited by either Chinese, or
Chinese mixed race persons within fifty years. To assure this, they planned to
exterminate anyone with a DNA of less than fifty percent Chinese. The sleeping
yellow giant had at last awakened . . .
a work of speculative fiction by John McGondel. Published first
in 2000.
The crowds worshipped Shaka Kinte as if he were Martin Luther
King and Malcolm X combined. Shaka Kinte spoke loudly to his audience: "All my
brothers and sisters, hear me and listen! The march on Washington with Farrakan
was good. It showed that we could paralyze any city that we choose. WE! US!
Brothers and sisters!" There was a deafening applause. "And Whitey was scared!
Why, my brothers? Because we were acting together! Soon, we will be strong
enough to take back that which we deserve." The crowd was wild with enthusiasm,
and so no one noticed the small hooded man about two hundred feet away, huddled
against a tree.
Each of the 25 cities had its own black general. Sometimes one general,
sometimes up to as many as five, as in the larger cities. Little Teddy
controlled his city with his lieutenants. On this morning, he somehow felt both
exhausted and invigorated at the same time. For now he really owned the city.
Lock, stock, and barrel. He monitored the other cities by ham radio. Whitey was
scared and was running. He thought of Kung Pao and chuckled. The little yellow
son of a bitch had turned out to be a blessing.
At three am, the Chinese coalition began airdropping hundreds of
thousands of trained troops into areas around the un-taken U.S. cities
surrounding the farm-belt, with low populations, and high crop outputs.
Meanwhile what was left of the U.S. government was concentrating its forces on
the 25 major industrial cities that produced no food... The ones under siege by
the blacks, and at which most, if not all of the available U.S. military was
positioned.