“It isn’t like it has always been. They seem restless. More restless this time than at any time than I’ve ever seen them before.” Kim Campbell-Trudeau was still watching the television screen.

Fernando Ortega walked over to the television screen.

The view switched to a close up of what would have been a very attractive young lady if she hadn’t been wearing a Nun’s Habit waving a sign that read “Earth for Humans! Filthy robots go home!”

“Such waste. Such an attractive young lady. So full of life. She should be out blowing up bridges, slaying orcs, or on a raid to try to kill President Humongous. Constructive uses of her youth. Yet on this god forsaken planet, all she has is her ignorance and her rage.” Said el Presidente.

“Hey!” said Humongous Testicles bristled at the mention of killing him.

“Is it not true? Do not the gamers of your country, regularly try to band together and try to raid your White House? Is not one of your duties to be Floor Boss in Chief. Have I not heard that you pick your teeth with the bones of your defeated enemies?”

“Slander!” Shouted the President.

“Quit bickering you two, you’re not five any longer.” Said the Prime Minister of Canada. She pointed to the crowd outside, “Normally they aren’t this riled up.”

“What else can you expect from a bunch of crazies. They are muy loco.” said El Presidente.

The screen switched to a different scene where rioters were throwing Otaku pillows – Dakimakura – with, scantily clad, overly endowed, obviously cyborg gamers on them. Barely clothed anime men and anime women, with big swords and even bigger cartoon genitalia, drawn on long cuddle pillows were being symbolically burnt in effigy.

“There is a gamer culture on earth,” said Humongous, “the religious censors just have it closed off to the general public.” Humongous pointed at the sex-pillows, still being stacked upon the flames, “And since they really don’t know what we’re about, they’ve oddly fetishized us. For the most part we are still people. But the lack of context has made us caricatures in their culture. Far away figures of games, Manga and Wizardry and Science Fiction.”

“Tell me about it,” said Kimberly Clarke-Trudeau. “I once had a young earth woman ask me how many points I got from jumping on a turtle’s back, and what it was like living in 2 dimensions. She kept referring to me as Luigi. After a while I had to tell her that console worlds were few and far between.”

“Yup. We still do get a small trickle of digitalized citizens. We can’t smuggle in the digitalization gear. Theological swat-teams and security is tight. The giant Earth Firewall. But we can occasionally smuggle in the plans to build your own digitalization and gaming gear available, and the old obsolete gaming servers broadcasting from orbit and the moon are still available to play and learn on. I have my own spies down here, but mostly they gather information, it’s hard to get them to distribute schematics. Not to mention that while Churches on earth might preach against VR gear, but in private have very sophisticated servers and equipment.”

“Rumor has it that one of the Dark Zones was founded by an earthly religious cult.” Said Kim Campbell-Trudeau.

“At least two that I know, el Prime Ministero,” said el Presidente. “Los Catholic have a closed off Vatican server where their Cardinals and Popes who fear their own God’s judgement live on in everlasting life. And uno televangelistas of los Born again Christians, set up a world to themselves for los faithful who pay enough are reborn into eternal blessing.”

“There are three more, that I know of.” Said Humongous.

“One is just a Hindu world. A steady stream of High Caste Hindus Earth Hindus tend to end up there. NPC untouchables and an established fairly brainwashed low cast Hindu populace. They keep it quiet, but that is mostly not to offend the other earth religions and to keep the privilege of living on only for people on the right stage of Samsara.”

“Secondly, one of the six multi server dark empires was set up by an earth cultist who believes that the Virtual Worlds will bring on something called Helter Skelter and that will herald in a kind of Race-War. Not sure how that will work, since virtual citizens can choose any race, gender or even species that they want. But who knows. It’s religion, it isn’t supposed to make sense.”

“Lastly, though I suspect there are others we have discovered, there is an entire world of Jehovah’s witnesses out there somewhere. My sources haven’t been able to locate it yet. But every once in a while someone in 21st century USA gets handed a copy of The Watchtower. They send missionaries nearly everywhere with a message of ‘Clone yourself. Get a living body. Reject the sin of Virtual Living. Die Properly in God’s Good Grace.’”

“How is that supposed to work? Don’t they believe that clones have no souls?” Said Prime Minister Kim Campbell-Trudeau.

“I have no idea. I think they believe that if you choose to follow Jehovah then you are already one of the saved, so you never lost your soul to begin with, or something. Or maybe when you first went digital your soul went to God and being a faithful little clone is about living righteously to keep your soul there.” Said Humongous.

“I am somewhat surprised los Mormon do not have a server for themselves.” said el Presidente Ortega. “They are men of many wives, my friend, many wives.”

“None. That we know of. That is the catch. That we know of. Besides, a lot of the earthly religions had early branches of people who weren’t so xenophobic as they are now, establish worlds, so freshly digitalized people tend to gravitate towards them. There is a massive migration of people from Dubai, the Emirate, and Saudi that end up on bunch of virtual worlds they own. Very private, very posh. Bought with Oil money years ago.”

“Polygamy is such a small problem though,” reflected Kim. “I swear half of my Canadians will at some point in their digital lives take off, eh, and go wild for a decade or two. The Reform Party tried to make a big deal over the fact that I’d spent a few years in a group marriage off Server with 41 other husbands and wives, but nobody cared politically because hey, it’s Canada and we’re supposed to be liberal and progressive compared to you American tight asses. Besides the Reform Party is generally considered by everyone who doesn’t live in Alberta to be a bunch of Hosers.”

There was a knock on the door and one of President Humongous Testicles’ secret service guards looked in.

“Is the Pizza Guy here yet?” Humongous said.

“No, Mr. President. There is a Mr. Smith here from Yoyodyne Propulsion systems. He said that there was a different Mr. Smith who’d been trying to set up an appointment all afternoon. This Mr. Smith claims that the matter is urgent. Did you want to see him?”

“No, not really. Tell him I’m busy. Come back next week.”

The Secret Service officer withdrew his head.

“Maybe you should talk to him. If it is urgent.” Said Kim Campbell-Trudeau.

“With Yoyodyne, it is always urgent. Besides, they gave an enormous campaign contribution to my opponent. Get this… The last time they had a so called ‘Emergency, this genetic mutation they’ve somehow managed to breed has gotten out in Cedar Rapids.”

“So, they call, me. They bombard me with texts. They even send their army of pet lobbyists to persuade me. ‘Send out the military’ they yell. ‘Help us. Something has gone terribly wrong.’

“We send out the Military. Tanks. Airplanes. We even mobilize this giant wooden horse we keep just in case we’re attacked by the Greeks. We send in everything. Our crack division of Special Forces Gamers, the national guard, Yiddish old ladies with brooms. Everything we got.

“When we get there, there is like this 30-meter-tall monstrosity of a fire breathing lizard. God fucking Zilla. And no, I don’t mean a Divine AI having sex with a woman named Zilla; though that does conjure up some pleasant images. Rather, an actual primordial lizard that they dredged up from the depth of some Tokyo rampaging hell. Well now this beast is tearing up Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Eating taxpayers, voters and civil servants. Or at least trying to eat them, this lizard keeps biting them, and then spitting them out. Like it doesn’t like the taste of… ahem… pork.

“The scaly beast has just finished ravaging all of the mercenary forces that Yoyodyne sent against it before they called us. Half chewed, undigested, bodies of combat mages, and hackers, and gunners everywhere. Who the hell sends a Hacker to fight against a Lizard anyway. Yoyodyne that’s who. It was like Godzilla took a bite and didn’t like the taste of gamer, so he moved on.

“We get there, and there this lizard is, calmly munching on one of the Quaker Oats silos in downtown Cedar Rapids. Did I mention I lived in Iowa City for a while? Great School the University of Iowa. I digress. It turns out that Godzilla is a 30-meter-tall fire breathing cereal loving vegetarian.

“The army gets me on the phone. They tell me what’s going on. They tell me that they probably don’t have enough troops there to pacify the Lizard. The thing is fucking huge, and this lizard has a skin so thick it should go into politics. Army, Navy, Gamers, Special Forces, Yiddish Grannies, they’re at a stand-still. They don’t think they can take it out. Not quickly. The thing is huge.

“But I just can’t get one thing out of my head. Call it precognition, call it my genius, call it ADHD. To the gathered Generals, Admirals, Bubbe, and assorted goy, I yell ‘Cereal without Milk, what an abomination. Get that lizard something to put on those toasted oats.’ Call it executive intuition.

“Maybe it is just me, I work on a higher plane than most other Presidents, you know. Part of it is the brains in my head, part of it is that my brain’s in my ball sacs. Anyhow it is like I see the scope of the problems of my country and instantly know how to solve them. That’s why they elected me. It is like a sixth sense, or something.

“Being the President, the military took me seriously because, the next time they call, they’ve got a couple tanker trucks full of 2% mixed with AAA+ class sleeping potion deployed and a dump-truck full sliced strawberries and bananas. Next I hear, Godzilla is taking a nice afternoon nap with a full stomach. Sleeping the sleep of the cold blooded with a happy little smile on his horrendous fire breathing face.

“So we ship him up to Montana, and set him free. Shame to waste a genetic abomination like that. Give gamers something to focus their surplus energy on. Great raid boss I’m told. Might have to get a team together after my term in office and try taking him out myself. Big Lizard in Big Sky they call it. Big attraction, tourist revenue out your eyeballs. ‘Big Lizard bit my head off and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’ sales galore.”

“That actually sounds urgent to me.” Said Kim Campbell-Trudeau. “I’ve known about the Big Lizard in Big Sky since it ended up in Montana. I didn’t know the story behind it. Maybe you should meet with him. For all we know it could be another Godzilla rampaging through some small Midwestern Metropolis.”

“This meeting is important too, or else I would not have come. Most of Yoyodyne’s problems they created on their own. They should try solving them on their own first.” Said Humongous.

“For a whole six months after the Cedar Rapids Iowa incident, whenever someone from Yoyodyne said it was an ‘Urgent matter’ I cleared my schedule for them. For six months, all of their ‘Urgent Meetings,’ were simply about adding pork to the budget, or relaxing a regulation. I’m halfway to the opinion that they unleashed all that destruction just to bother me with inane amendments to Legislation.

“They even tried to bogart my landmark Godwin’s Law Legislation. They wanted to add the text to the bill that As an online discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Yoyodyne™ Godzilla approaches 1 which is just plain ridiculous self-aggrandizement that doesn’t even make sense.”

“Still Mr. President…” said Robert Loblaw, who’d been keeping quiet up until now.

“Oh, whatever. Robert, why don’t you go and find out what Mr. Smith wants. If it isn’t a pointless waste of my time, let me know and I will schedule a meeting for after we finish this one. You guys don’t mind if I use the room? Or do you want to stick around and find out what Yoyodyne wants. I’m sure they would be happy to chat with all three leaders of North America together.”

“If it is relevant I will stick around. Montana borders on Alberta and Saskatchewan. We should have been consulted before you let a Godzilla roam around there. We Canadians have occasionally been worried that it might ravage Calgary or Regina. Though I will admit that our Gaming population and some of our military does like to make cross border raids in the dead of night to try taking it out.” Said Kim Campbell-Trudeau.

“Don’t bother worrying. We enlarged one of those invisible Dog Fence collars and put it on Godzilla while it was snoozing. Every time it tries to leave the state, Zap! Though I am worried about the sovereignty of our border, and Tchotchke sales now that you’ve mentioned midnight raids.” Said Humongous.

“Testículos Gigantescos, it is nothing. Some of our Federales and gamers like to test their might against the vile lizard foe in Montana as well. It is good for the young to have such a strong Boss to try and defeat. It makes them into virile men and women of Mexico.”

Humongous Testicles thought about it for a little while. “I get where you guys are coming from. Still, we should probably draw a formal agreement up just in case. I get that sneaking across the border for the raid is fun, but I think something official is in order, maybe a 24 hour gift shop. Let this be the first international treaty between our three nations of this summit.”

“Where is that Pizza? Shouldn’t it be here by now?” demanded Humongous Testicles.

Robert LoBlaw stepped back into the room from meeting with Mr. Smith of Yoyodyne corporation.

“And?” Said Humongous.

“You should meet with him. It might be a waste of time, it might not. Apparently one of their top secret Research Labs was hit this morning in Chevy Chase Maryland. A group of Gamers. I’d say they were professional, except that I have reports that one of the escape vans involved had the words “Free Candy” written on the side. Considering that we didn’t know this research lab belonged to Yoyodyne we should probably listen to what they have to say.”

“If we didn’t know it was Yoyodyne, what did we think it was researching?”

“Apparently they’d set the whole place up under a bunch of shell companies. Supposedly the official cover was that this was a company that was doing research on how to create a hybrid between a dog and a cat. All the best qualities of both pets. We all assumed it was something that Gregor thought up. Nobody ever looked closely enough at them to verify their story. Way too boring. That’s another reason why we should meet. We need to know what Yoyodyne was doing in that lab.”

Humongous started to pace. There was no great seal of the Presidency here, but pacing helped anyway.

A secret service guard knocked and then popped his head in. “Mr. President, your pizza and Beer is here. You ordered a lot, maybe you would like your secret service team to sample it for poison? A few slices and some beer would do the trick.”

“Go ahead, I ordered enough for your team too. Make sure you share with the Mounties and Federales. The pizza with Feta, green olives and Sausage is mine,” said Humongous.

“Thanks Mr. President.”

“Bob, tell Mr. Smith that I will meet with him after this meeting. Tell him that I seriously hope that Yoyodyne hasn’t epically fucked something up, not again, not after last time, or heads will roll.”