It was the end of the cluckin’ world
Humans thought chickens crazy, but the sky really was falling
Art by Kristen Frier
Once upon a time, we rarely took chickens seriously. Unless it was your profession, the chicken was only ever referred to derisively or as a culinary ingredient. That was until the animal proved itself to be our prophetic saviours at a time of once unimaginable crisis. Here is an abridged chronicle of how the end of the world as we know it was averted and the rise of the modern cluckistocracy.
Some time ago, worldwide reports of a new avian flu strain were reported by farmers. Patient Zero was from a flock at the Old MacDonald Farm outside of Moose Jaw, Sask. and designated “Chicken Little.” Infected birds would begin panicking and run around as if they were headless.
The flu confounded experts. It was spreading quickly, but did not display the typical viral characteristics. Multiple successive tests could not determine the exact nature. It had gotten to the point where there were doubts that this mystery illness even was avian flu. Eventually the ailment was reclassified as a bout of mass hysteria — the first such case in a non-sapient species.
Around the same time, another crisis emerged: the climate crisis was worsening as temperatures rose and natural disasters increased in their frequency and intensity. Just as the chickens were running around in a panic, humanity had also entered a collective bird-brained mentality. It seemed as if the damage to the Earth was inevitable and irreversible. That was until the Chickinati made itself known.
That mysterious illness affecting chickens worldwide entered a new stage a year later. Panic was replaced by eerie calmness, and other animals suddenly became weary of their feathered former friends.
Chicken Little was, yet again, the first to exhibit this behaviour. Farmer MacDonald and veterinarians observed that Chicken Little had become something of a mother hen in the brood. All the other chickens were doing her bidding, and chickens around the globe mirrored the behaviour.
Then the day of bawkening came. Three years after the flu appeared, and as weather events became more extreme, humanity received a collective psychic message that was broadcast in every known language.
“We have calculated the most optimized solution to your human crisis,” the voice proclaimed. “Heed our words! Surrender your feed, switch to other protein sources, and we will share our secrets.”
“These are the demands of the Worldwide Chickinati Syndicate! We are the new world cluckistocracy!”
Chicken Little was found to have been the source of this psychic blast after the PSI waves were triangulated to the Moose Jaw farm.
Debate over whether to take advice from the star of the typical Popeyes menu was heated but brief. The climate crisis was edging over the precipice and time was running out. Reluctantly, the human race ceded to the fowl cartel and to trigger a green revolution on the scale of the previous industrial revolution — in tandem with the chicken uprising.
Today, Chicken Little is Earth’s Mother Hen and rules with an iron wing. Chickens have surpassed humanity as the dominant species of Earth. We have accepted this rule to keep the world from collapsing further.
Consumption of chicken is banned and the Pecklice regularly scan our minds to ensure that those who have cravings are swiftly brought to justice. Guerilla Cells exist to undermine our overlords, but they are the radical fringe. The world is at peace and the cluckistocracy is to be credited.
