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On the whole, the morale of the white "race" in the northern hemisphere did not assist our efforts. Their partial overru
From TAFTA, SUPREME LORD of SHIKASTA, to SUPREME SUPERVISORY LORD ZARLEM on SHAMMAT, Greetings!
Greetings to the Shammot General Rule!
Obeisance!
Obeisance to Puttiora!
All things obey Puttiora, the All-Magnificent!
Shikasta lies beneath your heel, Shikasta awaits your will!
From Zone to Zone, from Pole to Pole, from end to end, Shikasta subserves you.
How deep and fine the service of Shikasta to Shammat, servant of Puttiora!
From end to end, these disgraceful little animals squirm and writhe under our all-seeingness!
In every land these degraded beasts fight and kill and suffer, the aromas of pain and of blood rising like red smoke above every part of Shikasta, deliciously rise to the nostrils of deserving Shammat.
How strong the nurturing flow from Shikasta to Shammat, stronger every day the flow that feeds Shammat, ever stronger the mille
Oh Shikasta, bleeding little animal, how we praise you in your willing squalidness, how we applaud you in your subservience, how we succour you, our other self, our sac of blood, our source of strength!
Day and night, and from moment to moment, roll in your Tributes, oh Shikasta, our slavish one, the Vibrations of hatred and dissension feed us, sustain us, make us exalt, Shammat the All-Powerful!
Night and day, oh nasty degraded one, you supply our food to us, the clash of arms, the cries of warriors, the roar of machines in hostility.
Day and night, planet that is lowest of the Low, you shake and shiver beneath our Rule, Shammat the Glorious, the all-glorious son of Puttiora the Glorious, offering your fat and your substance, the perfumes of your anguish, the aromas of your cruelties, your disgustingness.
How low is Shikasta, the worm in the dust, writhing heaps and pits of worms in corruption, all, all, all feeding us, Shammat, feeding Puttiora. Over your skies, Shikasta, the shine and shimmer of your contentions, your frightful inventions, all feeding us with the fuel of your hatreds. Under your oceans, Shikasta, the grind and clash and vibration of your manoeuvring machines, all feeding and perfuming us, Shammat. In your sick minds, Shikasta, the perverted minds of backward and ignorant animals whose good fortune it has even been to attract our kindly rule, flame the animosities that nurse us, Shammat!
Everywhere move our magnificent ones, ever aware, ever watching, ever guarding our own!
Everywhere our Eyes and Ears, and nothing escapes us!
We observe the pitiful heavings of your attempts at revolt, we note and we Crush!
We have watched the movements and machinations of our enemies on Shikasta, and have undone them all - confound their knavish tricks, compound their politicks, writhe and expire, suffer and die!
We Shammat, Shammat of Puttiora the glorious, confirm the Flow is extant, the Flow is stronger, the Flow is ever and eternal, the Flow is for all time, the sustenance and food of Us, Lords of the Galaxy, Lords of the Worlds...
NOTE ATTACHED to ABOVE:
Hey, Zarl!
I request sick leave. There is some goddamned new virus. We are going down all over the goddamned place. Or if it isn't a virus then it's Treachery. Why aren't I in the new Government? What sort of shitting gratitude is that? There are going to be some changes made, I'll simmer them in their own filthy blood, see if I don't.
LYNDA COLDRIDGE to BENJAMIN SHERBAN
(No. 17. "Various Individuals.")
Your brother told me to write to you. He says to me that he has told you he is in contact with me. I hope he has done this. Otherwise why should you trust me. It is a hard thing to ask these days. You must trust me for the sake of these people who are coming to you. Otherwise they will be dead. When you think things can't get worse, they can. I've known about all this happening for a long time. But when it does, then it is still a shock. George says these people must come to you. He says you are in Marseilles. That must be a difficult place to be in. These people are trustworthy. All from the hospitals I have been in. They are mostly patients. But some doctors and nurses. So these will be useful. We are not sending you the people who have been so ill they may be a nuisance. Doctor Hebert has helped choose the people. He knows all about these things. Doctor Hebert and I have been working together. I forget how long. I want him to go to you with the others but he won't. He says he is old and due to die. I do not agree with this. He knows so much about useful things, and he is not ever Mad, like me. I hope you know what I mean when I say that about Useful Things. I asked your brother about Doctor Hebert. Your brother says Doctor Hebert must do as he believes is right. Conscience. The individual. Rights of. I am staying. I am old too. Your brother wants me to stay. He has asked me to. He says it will be useful. There will be people left alive, in spite of the awfulness. They will be few. There are underground places. Most of them for bigwigs. Friends of ours have made an underground place. No one knows about it except a few. This is for about twenty people. Most of them have the Capacities of contact. George says you sometimes have them. I have tried to contact you but couldn't. Perhaps we aren't on the same wavelength! (Ha Ha) The twenty people are of all ages. Some are children. They are all ready for what is to come. The Wrath. Sometimes I think that if they knew what is to come they wouldn't be. Ready, I mean. I wish it would all happen, and we could get it over. We are going to take into the underground place more people than it is really made for. That is because I won't live long. And Doctor Hebert won't either. And there are two other old people. Doctor Hebert will be the only doctor with us, apart from a half-trained young one. He can train some more. Also he has quite a lot of Capacity. I know when Doctor Hebert and I will die. By then all the others will be trained in the Capacities. They will all live until the rescue teams come and England is opened up again. I don't know if George has told you all this. George just says this and that according to what is necessary. Then he switches off. I mean, we don't have a proper talk. Not a chat. From this I gather he must be very busy. Well I can see he must be. When I first contacted him, it was by accident. I thought it was my own mind talking to me. I wonder if that will make sense to you. Perhaps it will. I know that one's own mind can say all kinds of things. You think it is someone else but it isn't, it is you. Do you understand this. I am writing too much. It is because it is a fu