The Goodall Protocol, Chapter One
Chapter Two
Six months later, a multinational for-profit coalition known as The Committee for Celestial Fulfillment (hereafter “CCF”) had been formed under the United Nations Office for Outer Space Affairs. Its unlikely chairman was Lionel Pudd, and its slogan and tagline, coined by Mrs. Pudd after two glasses of white wine, was simply, “Why not?”
The first meeting was held in Geneva. The secretary and scribe, an exhausted Swedish diplomat named Freja Liden, began by reading the official minutes: “We are gathered to fulfill the final will and testament, not as expressed in her legal document, but instead as expressed in an interview aired exclusively on Netflix, with subscription prices as low as $7.99, of Dame Jane Goodall, Order of the British Empire, Doctor of Primatology, Whisperer of Apes, and so forth.”
The other members of the committee couldn’t help but erupt in applause and shouts of support, including the unfortunately untraceable, “We’ll be rid of them once and for all!”
Chairman Pudd, full of as much hot air as he had ever been in his life, stood up, took off one of his white-and-gray checkered Louie Vuitton Damier Infiniti Hockenheim Moccasins, and banged it on the table. “Let us be clear: we are not executing anyone. We are merely sending them on a prolonged, indefinite orbital sabbatical.”
The Russian representative, who had recently apologized to President Putin for the ridiculous and false rumor that the President had tried to poison him and his family after his appointment to this committee, leaned back in his chair. “It sounds like exile. It sounds like the gulag.”
Chairman Pudd had been rehearsing this response for hours in front of the mirror. He had never been more ready for anything. “Ambassador, you may recall the Ancient Greek dramatist Aeschylus, who wrote about the enlightenment that is to be found in the ‘awful grace of God.’ This show is for the audience, of course—and we want it to be entertaining—but it’s also for the cast. They will have all of the comforts of home along with a celestial show that even the Sphere in Las Vegas, which has really affordable ticket prices that might surprise you, could not replicate. And who else would we want to send on such a journey of self-discovery than five of our best and brightest? They have helped our planet so much already. How much more will they be capable of when they return?”
A murmur of bureaucratic unease filled the chamber, and the Chinese representative broke through the noise with the question that they were all thinking, “We have heard that none of the five has signed on yet. Why should President Xi be the first to agree?”
Chairman Pudd was ready again: “The contract is clear. The show will not move into production unless all five sign on.”
The Austin representative, Tony Hinchcliffe from the “Kill Tony” show at the comedy mothership, broke in, “I just want it to be clear that Mr. Musk is ready to sign and doesn’t care who accompanies him. I am getting a message now that, if the other four do not sign on, he is willing to replace them with Joe Rogan, Jordan Peterson, @catturd2, and…um…I can’t read the last name that he wrote here…oh…um…”
The Israeli representative seated next to him leaned over and smiled, “Oh, it says Tony Hinchcliffe. That’s you, right?”
