Inventors and businesspersons promoted their new devices that would make civilized life more convenient—microwave ovens for automobiles, televisions for showers and refrigerators inside furniture. Scientists exhibited new and improved disposable items—clothing, electronics and computers. You name it; a cheap disposable version had been developed and sold for the cheapest prices. Life on Earth had never been so easy, rip off the plastic wrap, use and dispose.
Elsewhere activists campaign for animal rights, human rights and rights of the spiritual and supernatural. With all the causes, it was hard to know what and who to believe. Lobbyist urged people to donate money and sign petitions—pro guns, anti-guns, tobacco, health foods and fast foods. Prophets preached and predicted the rise and fall of society.
Among the selling, protesting and preaching families strolled around the grounds eating ice cream cones and licking large candy lollipops. Children rode amusement park rides. Young men showed off their target-shooting prowess to their dates by winning large stuffed animals. For most, it was a fun-filled day.
Venetia strolled through the carnival on a mission to find Poindexter. Ever since she knocked him over a few days ago, she couldn’t get ARR out of her mind. The thought of the earth accelerating at a faster rate due to pollution frightened Venetia. She simply had to find Poindexter to learn more.
Wrapped up in her worldly concerns she barely noticed the activists and prophets beseech for her attention. “Miss DeMille, may we have a moment? Miss DeMille, we’d like to tell you about our new product! Miss DeMille can we have a photograph? Miss DeMille! Miss DE Mille!” Venetia had no mind for any of them; she pressed on as all the calls blended into one.
“Snob!” an activist yelled.
“Bitch!” cried out a prophet.
Despite her mission to find Poindexter, the words struck Venetia’s heart. She hated to be unfriendly and was just about to turn around and address her fans when she spied a small pop-up tent with a white flag flying half-mast with the logo, “ARR.” Venetia sighed relieved and headed straight for the tent.
Inside the tent, bored and over-heated spectators fanned themselves to keep cool. They had no interest as Poindexter set up a black and white film projector. One of the spectators slurped his soda.
Poindexter stopped and stared annoyed. “Please. I am about to start.” Another spectator coughed. Poindexter cleared his throat and gripped his pointer. “People, I cannot begin with these interruptions.” A Spectator snickered.
Poindexter pulled himself together and addressed the small, uninterested audience. “Have you ever asked why time seems to pass so quickly?” With the aid of his pointer, he demonstrated a poster with the letters, “ARR, Accelerated, Rapid, Rotation—I have concluded the toxins in the Earth’s atmosphere has an impact on the rate of rotation.”
A bright light appeared through the opening of tent distracting Poindexter. Venetia slipped inside and took a seat in the back. “Excuse me Miss. I don’t like to be interrupted while making a presentation.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” replied Venetia.
Poindexter nodded with reproach not recognizing Venetia in the glare and continued his speech. “I have set up control studies around the globe that monitor ARR.” He turned on the film projector and stood back with his arms firmly folded across his chest. The projector illuminated black and white newsreel footage.
A deep, male voice narrated Poindexter’s film, “Control studies have been set up around the world to monitor the ever-increasing rate of the Earth’s rotation.” On the screen a montage of Globevanes spun at various rates world white—Empire State Building, Hollywood sign, Eiffel Tower, Taj Mahal, an igloo at the North Pole, and a water buffalo in Africa.
“I have deducted the Earth’s rotation varies with the level of toxins in the air. The speed of the Globevane’s rotation is fastest on top of the Empire State Building due to the heavy concentration of air pollution in contrast to the slower rotation of the Globevane on the top of the water buffalo,” said the deep-voiced narrator. A landscape of ecological demise appeared on the film screen. “This is the future of our Earth if we do not do something about ARR!” A white light show on the screen and then film flickered from the projector.
The audience giggled as they filtered out of the tent. “That was hysterical,” said someone as they exited.
Venetia remained with a few snoozing people who fell asleep during the presentation. She approached Poindexter and said, “Doctor Schiegopherer.”
Poindexter studied her carefully from behind his thick-framed classes. “Do I know you?”
“I accidently knocked you over in the street,” replied Venetia bashfully, “But I didn’t mean it. I swear. Well, I really don’t swear, but…”
Poindexter raised his hand to stop her mumbling. “Have you come to finish me off?”
“Oh no, I want to make a donation to your research,” she said.
“Don’t tease me Miss. ARR is a serious subject,” said Poindexter.
Venetia reached inside her pocketbook, retrieved her check book and started writing. “Who should I make it out to?”
Poindexter adjusted his glasses to make sure he was seeing the situation clearly. “You can make it out do
Doctor Poindexter Schiegopherer.” He glanced at the amount she was writing and his glasses steamed with excitement. “A million dollars, that’s a lot of a money.”
Venetia handed him the check assured. “I’m a supermodel.”
Poindexter fumbled the check in his fingers. “Well, that explains it.”
“Doctor Schiegopherer, I couldn’t stop thinking of what you said about worldwide devastation. We have to do everything we can to fix it,” said Venetia.
“Stop it? No honey, it can’t be stopped. Once ARR started, it can’t be reversed.” He crumbled the check in his hand. “Now all we can do is prepare for the inevitable. Now if you don’t mind, I need to prepare for my next demonstration.”
“But…,” sighed Venetia. “Who’s going to save the planet?”
Poindexter chortled. “You’re a supermodel; I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He waved his hand. “Now scat.”
Venetia left Poindexter’s white, pop-up tent with tears in her eyes. She gazed around, finding the day an ashy, pale color with a strange orange hue. Despite the strong wind, the air she breathed was stale and suffocating. A sense of alarm filled her chest, but no one else seemed to care or notice. Something’s not right.