Somewhere in Murca
"This can't be..."
"I don't know sir, these pictures look authentic...", Hobert Z. Reinlein's assistant seemed dismayed. Various photographs of Venus delivered by the Commienist probe orbiting it were strewn across the table, along with a scientific journal where Zenobian researchers published their findings.
"It can't be! Atmosphere of carbon dioxide and sulphuric acid? 900 degree temperatures? Extreme pressures? It was supposed to have jungles! Lush jungles and oceans! Places for adventure!"
Reinlein sat down heavily. And then he had an epiphany.
"It's a commienist propaganda plot to destroy Murcan sci-fi!"
"But the pictures..."
"Are you an astrophysicist? You wouldn't be able to tell if they've been faked! Hah! Yes, that must be it. Sleazy communoids, they almost had me there! Hah!"
Some fifty million kilometres away, give or take a few, the planet of Venus, now stripped of its adventurous mystique, continued its orbit around the Sun, oblivious to the wishes of the people living on its not that close neighbor.
Ain't exploration a bitch?
"