Rather, we have certain professional and social communities, united by a common cultural ritual that has come down to us from ancient times. When you choose a profession for yourself you also choose, as it were, the shadow of the nationality whose spirit illuminates it, and join a specific club.
For instance, the ‘Germans’ are the best mechanics and technologists. They devise and build the super-expensive motorenwagens for the rich Orkish bureaucracy, brew forty different kinds of beer, shout ‘Hoch!’ and fly to visit Orkish prostitutes in the Yellow Zone, which is also where their assembly lines are located. They don’t like suras. They even have a saying: ‘a rubber woman is the first step towards alcohol-free beer’ (apparently some northern sage said that). But that doesn’t mean at all that they are plodding, obtuse philistines. In their souls, ‘Germans’ are romantics, secretly they always remain faithful to their ideals, and at the end of their lives simply adore taking cyanide to the music of Wagner. They say that was the way Eureich’s offglobe was scuttled – after worldwide demand for motorenwagens had plummeted to almost zero.
The ‘Japanese’ draw 2D-japorn in silhouette, shadow, curtain and other forms, as well as derp hentai – everything that doesn’t formally come under the law on underage pornography. They assemble all sorts of ingenious electronic wanking devices and also, of course, suras – thank you, lads, from all us pupophiles, although it is not we who are your true brothers, but the ‘Germans’. The ‘Japanese’ have the same kind of suicidal-heroic culture as the manufacturers of motorenwagens, only it’s infused with masturbation instead of beer. Even the passing centuries are powerless to do anything about this, and I suppose there’s a certain beauty in that. It’s no accident that so many old snuffs are devoted to the destruction of the Yamato offglobe. They used to say that under Loss Liquid they were considering in earnest how to flood the Circus so as to film it on water, but the technical sommeliers and the House of Manitou’s Department of Public Morality forbade it.
The ‘Americans’ … America, great America, which once saved the world from Hitler, Bin Laden, Count Dooku, Megatron and Professor Moriarty! The ‘Americans’ shoot snuffs. They also make the manitous on which we watch snuffs. And they also, of course, print the manitous we use to pay for all this. They also had a hand in my Kaya – the historians tell us that the sura is the offspring of a marriage between the Japanese love doll and the American unmanned aerial drone. The rich guys in the upper hemisphere – what else can I say about them? The envious tongues claim that they secretly worship a huge bat, which they keep hidden somewhere in the region of the central reactor – and that they occasionally find processor chips, with state-of-the art architecture, in its droppings. But that, of course, is the whinging of unalloyed envy, and I’m not going to relay it.
The ‘Jews’ are the priests who hold the copyright on Manitou – they even say that Manitou the Antichrist was a Jew from the Bronx. They also shoot snuffs, together with the Americans – and it’s not hard to guess who’ll be top dog there. The neural tissue of the global brain, which invented gravity interest and the loan drive – no wonder they’re the first to get it in the neck fromeveryone who wants to make the world beautiful, muscular and easy to understand.
The ‘French’ are Big Byz’s strike-force intellectuals. Anyone can start a war, but no one else will do it so elegantly. All the best discoursemongers from the Le Coq d’Ésprit special assault group have to know at least a little bit of Old French. They’re great guys. The military men even have a saying: ‘as disciplined as a platoon of French intellectuals’. Meaning discipline of the mind, naturally. But also of the heart – because not every heart would be able to bleed selectively on account of the assigned goal, and circumvent any number of false targets released by the enemy; manoeuvring with supreme precision, in any weather conditions and also at an immense distance. As a combat pilot, I understand what a demanding task that is.
The ‘English’ – in their youth, they make the best protest punks, and at a mature age, the best bank clerks. A great nation. It’s no accident that even now we handle all our business documentation in Church English. It’s impossible to list all the things they have done for civilisation. Without the English, there would be no fish & chips. They invented tabloids and hypocrisy, and were the first to unite the world under its flag – and to this day they keep its sacred flame burning. I’m not joking. Where would we be today without hypocrisy? Under the law on the age of consent, no one would be able to make love until the age of forty-six. They have my respect and admiration. Rule Britannia! But all this is more by way of residual national traits, the shadow, as it were, of ancient traditions which still live on among us today. And everything that I have just mentioned is each individual’s cultural and professional choice, rather than the call of the blood.
