By Colin Zachariasen
Birds, as we all know, are a common myth. As part of a Cold War Era scheme, all existing birds were killed and replaced with robots in order to intercept Soviet messenger penguins on their way to their icy masters. Since then, the cold automatons we call “birds'' have become a novelty in American culture that is widely speculated on, much like Bigfoot or the pyramids. In particular, last November marked the 17th anniversary of the late-night History Channel series, “Birds: What even the fuck, dude?”: a show that attempts to answer questions about the true nature of birds and inevitably always settles on aliens.
This “bird” phenomenon has proven to be increasingly popular with young people. Just this past July, thousands of millenials were seen camped outside the Central Park area of New York City, forcing pedestrians to either take a detour or brave miles of hastily-constructed tents put up by people who have never been camping. All this was in preparation for the unveiling of The Government’s latest model of Pige.on, the robotic duplicate of the common pigeon. As told in a press demo months before, the newest update to Pige.on AI will include trash diagnostics, state-of-the-art hot dog identification subroutines, and a controversial facial recognition software that targets the weak. Chadley Arlington, a 23-year-old university student, had the following to say when we interviewed him in front of his yurt: “I’ve never missed a new bird. The Government says that this model will have an insatiable hunger for chunks of bread and children below the age of 5. That sounds awesome, right? I don’t have any kids, so I brought some whole wheat with me instead.” Indeed you did, Chadley.
Mr. Arlington showed us the inside of his yurt, which smelled of bong rips and was filled to the brim with loaves of bread. When asked to comment, the young man simply stated that he “wanted to see what they meant by ‘insatiable.’” As a matter of fact, many of those gathered outside the fence were loaded with dough. Carla Mercklestein, 19, lit a menthol and told us. “We have so much bread. It’s too much. We don't know what to do”. When she was pressed for details, she nervously confessed “another truck-full is coming at 11, and we don’t know where to put it.”
As noon rolled around at the park, the FBI bird engineers had yet to come out of the bunker located under the statue of Christopher Columbus. The crowd began to get restless in anticipation. They began playing indie music and calling for the release of the pigeons, shouting, “even Apple isn’t this dismissive”. Just as things started to escalate on the sidewalk and our crew began to make their escape, a large black cloud erupted from beyond the fence, taking to the skies and blotting out the sun. It became clear after it started to divebomb the sidewalk that it wasn’t a cloud at all, but rather every pigeon in the world that had just been released from Christopher Columbus’s gaping maw. There was no question: the robo-pigeons had been upgraded and were filled with malice. The literal tons of bread brought in by the millenials were quickly consumed in a scene reminiscent of the biblical locust plague. Anything even vaguely hot dog-shaped was torn off and eaten by the malevolent avian swarm; fingers, noses, and even the exposed toes of Teva-wearers were lost in the carnage. The few 5-and-unders in attendance were never seen again. Horrified mothers would sift through the wreckage for weeks after, looking for their children in vain.
This event, being called a “bloodbath” and “massacre” by the New York Times, has been a PR disaster for The Government. Survivors have been called to stand witness at Senate hearings for the executives deemed responsible for the bloodshed. The only question on the public’s minds is what this could mean for the future of bird culture, and whether our mechanical nemeses will continue to roam free or be terminated.
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