“FLY, MY PRETTIES, FLY!”

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Insect drones are stingless and make no honey; they are useful only to impregnate the queen and after doing that they are shunned, whence they die because they can’t even feed themselves. In music, drones are strings, pipes &c. that make continuous and unvaried low tones. Reverse anthropomorphization applies these traits of being useless, helpless and boring to people, usually as an insult.

After WWII the term was used to describe small pilotless aircraft used for target practice, this too has been recently turned on its head. Contemporary drones are piloted, albeit remotely, and are now, in more than practice, doing the targeting. Plus, they are no longer stingless.

Consider this: (https://youtu.be/m-H8PuweRVA) where point one percenter (POP) extraordinaire Mr. Burns who sends his winged monkeys to destroy Homer and Marge, the consummate everycouple, for ordering room service on the company dime. “Fly, my pretties, fly!” he snarls. The monkeys fall to the ground off camera and Burns orders Smithers to “Continue the research.”

Now this: The three-in-one storyboard you see here is one of a sci-fi novel/film as far as I know has not been thought up. It shows a drone, a more sophisticated and successful mechanical version of a Burns’—and L. Frank Baum’s before him—winged monkey destroying a trio of POPs.

Before this finale, the POPs had first used the drones to eliminate the working poor who were the first to be deemed redundant and were, being without jobs, rights, food even, becoming annoyingly restless. Then the POPs set their sights further up the social ladder as the increasingly efficient profitmaking technology could be aimed to “right size” previously difficult-to-control “expenses.” And so more and more middle class white collar jobs went the way of blue collar ones.

To do this the POPs greedily invoked ever-more sophisticated technology to automate the drones, getting rid of ever-more personnel. They could now order up programs for the drones to eliminate any and all people who could be replaced by a machine from the comfort of their gated environs perfectly maintained by their robotic staff.

But not for long. The drones are as sociopathic as their POP masters; after all they were “raised” by them, yes? To the POPs, no lives, other than their own, matter; so to their heartless/mechanical spawn, the once again pilotless drones, no lives matter. POPs, to them, are as useless as the middle and working classes. Bye, bye CEO and friends, good riddance, fin.

There is, of course, an alternate ending where in the bowels of the corporate campus, in some forgotten store room turned office, there are some nerdy coders who instead of programing the increasingly clever (but morally indifferent) computers as ordered by the POPs to “destroy all [non-POP] humans,” they conspire with their new friends—not that these socially inept souls had old friends—to turn the drones back on the POPs.

In this would be sci-fi classic nerds save the day and the middle and working classes are reborn out of the ashes of the plutocracy! Cool, But that’s a little too much a fantasy to believe even for a summer blockbuster. Still a little herd culling of the country club set’s portfolios by some robin hoodie drones wouldn’t hurt. So as Mr. Burns said “Continue the research.”

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