About

It was about nineteen thousand years ago, twenty thousand, thirty thousand, forty thousand, In the Marcab Confederacy they had a race-track. And you were probably there. And you either have attended its races or had something to do with it, because you find it on most cases.

There's one 1216 B.C, that shows up on any case - the Brotherhood of the Snake. 1216 B.C. It shows up on any case. Well, evidently, this other one is the same breed of cat. Almost anybody going through Marcab Confederacy sooner or later got mixed up with the racetracks.

They had turbine-generated cars that went about 275 miles an hour. They ran with a high whine. I notice they've just now invented the motor again. And they had tracks that were booby-trapped with atom bombs, and they had side bypasses. The tracks were mined, and the grandstands were leaded-paned. And the audience - it got to be kind of a "no audience." You never could see the audience.

And oh, they had loose-sand sections and they had slick-oil asphalt and they had ice sections and loose gravel. Any kind of hazards you could think of. A mountain that you went up to the top of and fell off; you know?

And just - there were just more drivers killed. There was more blood pouring on that track, you see, all the time. I mean it was always goofed up. Ten, twelve thousand years, this was the favorite sport of the Marcab Confederacy, apparently.

If I'm restimulating you, okay. It's not done intentionally. You'll run into this sooner or later. You'll wonder... You've probably often wondered what that needle-like pinging was in the back of your neck. Well, you probably wound up on the track some time or another as a driver or something of the sort.

Because nearly everybody, when he wanted to go to the devil, went to this track and became some part of its operating personnel, because it was the fastest ticket out in a society which absolutely insisted that you live!