When I was about as young as can be and know a thing, I was told that there were robots on Mars.
The robots fought the Saturnians and the Saturnians wanted to destroy the universe.
This age-old battle well preceded our little squabbles here on Earth by a goodly billion years or thereabouts and is the oldest war in the universe. The reason behind the ringed planet’s unfortunate obsession has been lost to time, although scholars agree it is the origin of the word saturnine.
It was further explained to me the robots subsist on a strange form of sustenance. That being, particular calisthenics performed in a very precise fashion by the denizens of their closest planetary population. Thus, the universe’s continued existence falls to us, here on Earth. All calisthenics help. How could it be otherwise? But when the calisthenic routine is performed exactly aright, it gives the robots a mighty boost of strength and fortitude to persevere in their vital struggle. Should our efforts ever cease, it would be the very vend of life as we know it.
I am fortunate to have been raised by people who know the truth, for it has given my life great meaning and value. From nearly the very day I drew my first breath, I have been instructed in the exact method of calisthenics producing maximum Martial benefit: the timing of it, the order and precise movements, their repetition, and so on, and I have performed these crucial exercises each day of my life without fail.
However, now and then, I am ashamed to admit, particularly in those hours when I am performing some especially arduous exercise, I am nagged by a worming kernel of doubt. That is to say, while it makes perfect sense for the robots to hide their armaments and fortifications in caves deep beneath the surface of the orange planet to protect them from a surprise attack, unfortunately, this keeps their existence (and need of my unusual labors) beyond the verifiability of Earthly satellites.
It has been pointed out to me on many occasions that calisthenics are quite healthy in any case. The benefits to cardiac health, cellular plasticity, and mental longevity are undeniable. Moreover, it has been well documented that people who perform the routines daily and without fail live healthier, longer, and happier lives.
Still, I wonder.
It doesn’t help that our group of robot sustainers has always been hated by everyone else on Earth who is not in on the job. Some say it is jealousy. Some say it is the natural guilt engendered by our lofty vocation in those who sit idly by in the grand cosmic drama. They, of course, say different things.
In ancient times there were various preposterous prattles purported for our singular persecution not worth mentioning. For the past hundred and fifty years or so, the excuse has been that our small group is secretly running the world. It is strange that, while controlling everything, we are unable to protect ourselves from a never-ending worldwide ass-kicking. Unfortunately, this flaw in their basic logic doesn’t seem to trouble them overmuch.
Lately though, a black turn of the globe’s fortunes has made things far worse. It has gotten to the point where I feel unsafe walking in the street or performing my calisthenics in public. The questions I have been asking myself all along in a more or less academic fashion have taken on an increasing dimension of desperate urgency.