The Vaccine Nano-Bot Birth Control Method

Comparing Conspiracy Theories to Parallel Universes:

Belief that parallel universes exist goes all the way back to the ancient Greeks. As a dedicated science fiction dog, the concept of infinite worlds coexisting has fascinated me since reading about Bizarro World in the Superman comics.

I’m big on conspiracy theories too. I write fiction. The way I look at it all fiction is a type of conspiracy theory. Maybe, just maybe, writers of fiction are hearing voices from alternate worlds and recording them.

Inspiration has to come from somewhere.

The bug was out of the bag:

President Joe Biden double checked the data. It look like his administration was on track to deliver one of his biggest campaign promises: 100 million doses of vaccine in 100 days. Actually, the 100 million was a lowball figure. With enough inventory and the right people in charge, the experts predicted numbers upwards to 130 or 150 million.

One-hundred million in 100 days had a nice ring to it.

Biden saw a reminder pop up on his screen. He had a meeting with Avril Haines, director of national intelligence, in five minutes.

“Good evening, Mr. President,” Haines said as she entered the Oval Office.

“Did you get a chance to meet Cesar, Avril?“

“Yes. My saliva passed the sniff test.”

Biden made it a point to get to know about his staff and their families. And he made a point of asking about them.

When the initial greeting ended Biden got to the point: “What is so pressing that you insisted on calling a private meeting, Avril?”

“We have confirmed reports from reliable sources that Covid 19 originated from a lab in China.”

Biden tapped his pen on the desk. He was thinking about what kind of sanctions should be leveled against the Chinese government and who to round up to get the procedure in gear.

Haines sensed this. “There’s more, Sir.”

“Oh.” Biden wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear what came next but he had no choice.

“A scientist working in one of our secret germ warfare labs was a double agent for the Chinese—”

Biden cut in. “The shit is getting deep. Hold on a minute.” Biden opened a drawer and removed a plastic bottle. He washed down two extra strength Tylenols with water. “Go on, Avril.”

“Apparently, Daniel Chang had some psychological problems. He released the virus in the Wuhan wet market and went back to his apartment and hung himself.”

The moment of truth:

Biden called for his chief aide. “Walter, get me an interpreter who specializes in Mandarin Chinese and set up an emergency conference with Xi Jinping immediately.”

“I’ll get right on it, Sir.” The aide finished tapping in notes then closed the tablet. He left the office.

It only took five minutes to find an interpreter. Biden went with a suggestion from Haines. It took 30 minutes to clear a video conference call with the president of China.

While they waited, Biden ran a Google search on Jinping. He’d never met the man. Politics was definitely a contact sport. Biden felt he’d come off strange, like an internet stalker, if he asked personal questions at this stage of the game.

Biden had no options going into the meeting. He decided to bluff. To see if Jinping would deny the whole thing.

Biden told part of the story: “Our side has conclusive evidence indicating Covid 19 originated in a lab and was released by a mentally disturbed scientist in Wuhan.”

When the interpreters on both sides finished up, Biden saw no trace of emotion on Jinping’s face. He was a cool customer.

As soon as Jinping replied, his interpreter said, “Then you must know that Daniel Chang stole the sample from a US lab and brought it with him when he was called back.”

No one wants to be the bad guy:

Following a back and forth dialogue spanning thousands of miles, the two sides could only agree on one thing: neither wanted to accept responsibility for a global pandemic.

Both sides had good reasons. One thing gnawed at Biden’s insides: if this thing leaked out his administration would lose the nation’s trust. America was in a crisis. The federal government had to step up and toke control of this mess. People were dying, people were sick, people were hungry, people were homeless. Many wanted to reopen businesses or get back to work or just lead a normal life again.

Herd immunity through vaccination was the key to turning this thing around and Biden wasn’t going to blow it.

Another final solution:

One of Jinping’s advisors entered the room and handed the president a piece of paper. Jinping read it twice, nodding as he pored over the document.

Haines, sitting on one side, turned a notepad up. Biden glanced over and saw “TOP SECRET” scrawled across the page.

Finally, Jinping spoke and the American interpreter passed on the message: “We are willing to make a deal but we must do this over an encrypted channel on the dark web.”

Biden muted the audio. He turned to Haines. “What do you think, Avril? Should we do this?”

“I don’t see what other options we have, Sir,” Haines said.

“How do we set up this dark web thing?” Biden threw up a set of air quotes. “Can we do it on my machine here in the office?”

“Actually, we have standalone boxes dedicated to masked browsing in the building.”

The advanced technology was over Biden’s head. The only thing he knew about the dark web was that it was a haven for illegal activities. “Okay, let’s hear what they have to say.”

Ten minutes later, the first encrypted message posted on a web page with an encrypted url came through. It was printed by hand on a legal pad: The Chinese government would not reveal any details about the incident if they were guaranteed not to be sanctioned for sterilizing a large segment of Weigher Muslims held in concentration camps.

At first, the president felt anger welling up inside. Jinping must be insane to think an American President would even give this a second thought.

Rage wore off. Biden had to get this country back on its feet. He knew what he had to do. Americans came first. “Tell Jinping it’s a deal. There is one thing I want to know, how is this going to happen?”

When Biden saw the piece of paper he shook his head. The Chinese were going to place self-replicating nano machines in doses of vaccine. These nano bots were capable of reducing sperm counts in men and inhibiting egg production in women.

It was at that moment Biden decided to tell the American people what he’d done when he announced he would not seek re-election in 2024.

P. T. Barnum and the First Mission to the Moon

Conspiracy theory background:

Mark Philipson’s first exposure to conspiracy theories came when he read Chariots of the Gods by Erich von Daniken. The compelling text had a profound affect.; the 14 year old got caught up in the whole alien visitor thing. Mark wanted to believe humankind on Earth needed an alien intervention to lead the way to civilization. This attitude wore off not long after turning the last page.

What did keep a hold was a fascination with conspiracy theories remaining to this day. While recovering from an injury during the Great Pandemic of 2020, Mark decided to cook up conspiracy theories. The following narrative is an attempt at building a conspeory.

The Seed:

Phineas Taylor Barnum stared at his financial records. The ledger didn’t look too good, the showman had been in the red for the past two months. The bottom falling out of the railroad industry had hit the economy hard, forcing Barnum to sell his holdings in the show. At least he got some royalty payments from having his name on the bill. It wasn’t enough, Bsrnum couldn’t take another quarter like the last one. He needed a new revenue stream and he needed it fast.

Barnum closed the workbook. Sheer willpower wasn’t going to change those numbers. It wasn’t some phony fortune teller act he was promoting. When Barnum moved the ledger to the side and revealed his favorite newspaper the top story on the Daily Mail jumped out at him: MOON PLATES. The headline was so big it spanned the width and one third of the height of the front page.

Henry Draper, an American astronomer, had developed a technique of exposing photographic plates through a telescope. Barnum breezed past the technical explanations defining Draper’s method of hydraulic stabilization and clock driven rotation control.

Barnum saw something beyond the crystal clear images of the lunar landscape. He just wasn’t sure what it was.

Barnum went with his favorite source of inspiration, a Turkish water pipe loaded with hashish. After three long draws, his mind wandered. What if scenarios drifted through his consciousness like the pungent smoke billowing to the ceiling.

After making some quick notes, Barnum hit the streets of New York City armed with an idea. That wasn’t all he was armed with: a four-barrel, .36 caliber pepper box revolver sat tucked away in a vest pocket. Hidden in the blackthorn cane he carried, a 14 inch dagger sharpened to a razor’s edge waited to be drawn.

Barnum made it to the publishing office of the Daily Mail without incident.

The Pitch:

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Barnum told Horatio Hollingsworth, the managing editor.

“I’m a busy man, Mr. Barnum … Can we get to this?”

“Of course,” Barnum said. “A second lost is one less penny in the piggy bank.”

Hollingsworth grinned. “That’s an interesting turn of a phrase.”

“I noticed the front page piece the paper did this morning … A good story … I can see potential there.” Barnum threw out the bait.

Hollingsworth saw a story about an astronomer who fiddled with a telescope so he could expose high quality photographic plates of the moon. To the editor, the story was already dead. “Like I said Mr. Barnum, I have a paper to get out … If you have anything constructive to add to that end, I’d be glad to hear it … If not, I have to get back to work.”

“Here it is, when I saw that bit this morning, I got to thinkin … what if the dark and light areas of the photograph of the moon turned out to be forests and oceans. You know, like on Earth.”

“There’s no proof of that.”

“Who needs proof … All we need to do is get enough people to lay their coins on the barrel head.”

“Which people will be setting coins down for what?”

Barnum could see Hollingsworth was interested. Hell, he hadn’t been tossed out of the office yet. Barnum set the hook: “0n tomorrow’s edition, I want you to run a colorized version of that photograph. Make the light areas green and the dark areas blue. Say astronomers believe the moon is covered in forests and oceans.”

The Scam:

The next afternoon, Barnum answered a knock on the door. A messenger boy handed him a slip of paper. Barnum dug deep into his pockets to come up with a one cent tip. The message, printed on Daily Mail stationary, was from Hollingsworth. The managing editor wanted to meet Barnum for supper at Delmonico’s Steak House on Fifth Avenue and 26th Street.

“You must be hungry,” Hollingsworth said as he watched Barnum tear into his second shrimp cocktail appetizer.

“Well,” Barnum said. “I missed lunch and I walked all the way to get here.” He left out the part about being down to his last ten dollars in the bank and going on a eating every other day schedule.

“You know, running that colorized edition increased our circulation by ten percent.”

“I figured as much.” Barnum looked at the unfinished baked oysters on Hollingsworth’s plate. “Are you going to eat the rest of those?”

“Go ahead.” Hollingsworth pushed the plate across the table. He waited until Barnum was done devouring what was left. “Does the story end here, or is there more?”

“Oh, there’s always more. I could use a drink before dinner, how about you Hollingsworth?”

“All right.” Hollingsworth ordered a glass of white wine. Barnum went with bourbon.

Barnum was working on his third drink when he looked around. Making sure no one was in hearing distance, he leaned in: “Tomorrow, run the paper and say astronomers have seen life on the moon.”

Every evening over dinner, Barnum gave Hollingsworth another story to run the next day. Barnum sketched creatures on house napkins: people with bat-wings soared the lunar skies, oxen with eight legs plowed fields of moon corn 30 feet high. Artist depictions of Barnum’s crude renderings crowded the front page for three days. Circulation was up

At the next meeting, Barnum said, “I think it’s time to move on.”

Hollingsworth had seen sales skyrocket. He didn’t want to stop now. “Move on to what?”

“The next act … The big show … The one that’s going to pack them in and fill the cash boxes.”

Hollingsworth wasn’t following. What could they possibly do to boost circulation by more than it stood now? The managing editor got his answer.

“Tomorrow, start running an advertisement calling for donations. Use that French guy … You know, the writer?”

“Are you talking about Jules Verne?”

“That’s the guy. Didn’t he write some crazy shit about a trip to the moon?”

“You’re talking about From the Earth to the Moon.”

“That’s it. Use the plot of the book to pad out the add … Lay it on thick … Are you with me so far, Hollingsworth?”

Hollingsworth envisioned the piece. He went home that night and put the first draft together in his study.

The next morning, Barnum looked at the morning edition of the Daily Mail. In the classified section, he saw what he was looking for. The article called for donations to a fund that would send a manned missile to the moon. Arms manufacturers from around the world were united with scientists in a quest to build a cannon powerful enough to launch a projectile that would make the journey.

The gag worked. Donations poured in. After three days Barnum took his 25 percent of the proceeds and caught a train to San Francisco.