The Cleansing – 32 – Chapter 16

Posted on by Opher

Taking heed of the effect of the European cultures and their colonisation of the world, with the destruction and disillusionment that followed, the loss of confidence, I transposed that to the alien invasion. I coupled that with the modern populist wave of propaganda and undermining of institutions and media. The resultant instability was open for exploitation. My aliens were at odds with each other. They were seeking different outcomes. Human civilisation was in meltdown.

Chapter 16 – Progress

Beheggakegri was beginning to feel more relaxed. The camps were far less crowded and the amenities improved. He was confident that if they were inspected now they would just about pass. The lunar facilities were coming on apace with some parts already up and running. They had shipped in the expertise from around the Federation and were already beginning to work on the Hydrans. If drangling Booghramakegra started poking her nose in now she couldn’t find too much to blame Beheggakegri with. He could refute all that excrement emanating from Chameakegra. He was in the clear. A great feeling of relief passed through him.

Good luck to all those therapists. He was sure that they could apply their therapies and potions to their hearts content but they’d soon find out that they were wasting their time.  These Hydrans were a lost cause and he would prove it. That Chameakegra was heading for a downfall.

As for Grrndakegra, that Giforian seemed to be coming through. He liked her. She was like him, no nonsense. She could see what these Hydrans were like from the start. If she’d only been in charge of the operation from the very beginning these Hydrans would be gone and forgotten and he wouldn’t have even had to think about drangling Commander Chameakegra. She’d be off doing her mundane work out in the periphery where she belonged, unseen, unnoticed and out of his crest. When this debacle was over he’d have her commission, she’d be gone for good. The sooner he could get back to normal the better. All this business with Chameakegra was upsetting his digestion.

Grrndakegra would sort it out. He felt confident again.

No sooner had Beheggakegri begun to relax when the next problem hit home.

‘What is it?’ Beheggakegri asked abruptly, answering the special encrypted communicator he kept for all commerce with Grrndakegra. When that communicator buzzed it usually meant something was wrong.

‘Have you seen what our darling Commander has just put out?’

‘No,’ Beheggakegri replied with a sinking pair of hearts. What had the drangling guff done now?

‘I suggest you check your mail. She’s pasted you in.’

Beheggakegri fumbled around with his other communicator. Immediately he could see that a colossal file had been sent through to him. ‘What the drang?’

‘She’s only gone and released all the data that Neff had collected about the Hydrans.’

It took a moment for Beheggakegri to take that in. Slowly the implications dawned on him. ‘She wants to justify the extractions.’

‘That’s right.’

‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘I’m already on it,’ Grrndakegra replied. ‘I’m flooding their communication network with posts from a large number of reputable sources questioning the facts, contradicting, undermining and claiming it is all fake news. The dissident factions are already claiming it’s a fabrication; a conspiracy put together by the Federation. I’m boosting that view on steroids. I’ll soon have the bulk of the Hydrans believing right is wrong. Doubt and distrust are our weapons. These Hydrans love to believe in conspiracies. They are so incredibly stupid.’

Beheggakegri laughed.

Progress was being made but Chameakegra knew that it was a race against time. Did she have the time to win the Hydrans over before Beheggakegri got his way?

Funding and expertise was being funnelled into education. Long-neglected schools refurbished, a new curriculum put into place that was mind expanding, creative and brought enjoyment to the heart of the process. In developing countries new facilities were under construction. Every youngster over the entire globe, for the first time, was going to receive a first class education. But there were problems emerging. Teachers could not be conjured out of nowhere and the new curriculum and styles of ‘active’ teaching were an anathema to a largely conservative profession. Despite the long-term benefits the short-term issues dominated. There was general disquiet and unrest. The unions became involved. Parents became anxious. Conspiracy theories blossomed – education was being taken over by the lizards. Children were to be brainwashed. Protests ensued. Soldiers were being brought in to fill gaps and soldiers are not renowned for compassion and empathy.

The protection of the environment was warmly received by environmental groups but also generated widespread anger. People were no longer allowed in areas they considered beauty spots. The turning over of whole areas to nature met a furious response. We were being told where we could go and what we could do. This wasn’t right. Restrictions on fishing, trawling, farming, mining and logging, no matter how beneficial they might prove in the long run, were garnishing widespread dissatisfaction. Rewilding became a dirty word. Who were these aliens to barge in and tell everyone what they could and could not do on their own planet?

New quantum energy plants were under construction using alien technology but a new energy grid cannot be constructed overnight even with the amazing resources that the aliens could bring to bear.

The revamping of industry with the incorporation of new technologies required time and expertise. People had to be trained.

The data drop that Chameakegra had instigated had certainly made an impact. The media had delighted in picking over the dubious actions and attributes of their pet politicians, celebrities and business magnates. They were shown up for the horrible selfish people they really were, yet strangely it did not spin the dial as much as Chameakegra had hoped. The campaign claiming that the reports had all been doctored, were fake and created by the lizards greatly undermined the impact. People became confused. What could they believe? Who could they trust?

The most noticeable effect of the aliens’ occupation, apart from the huge impact of the excising of so many people from the upper echelons, was the disbandment of the military. The Federation with the help of the Ministry of Peace under Apsara Amorin, managed the decommissioning of equipment, including nuclear arsenals, warships, planes and missiles but the personnel were suddenly surplus to requirements. All over the world soldiers, sailors and airmen were stood down. The knock on effects were enormous, the whole defence industries, the supply and support along with surveillance, planning and organisation. The mass unemployment created huge problems. People could not simply be retrained overnight.

They were all compensated. The Federation seemed happy to support a large number of unemployed people. That was not an issue. Their resources were unimaginable. That was not the issue. The issue was time. Work filled time. Work gave purpose, status and self-worth. When the work stopped people had time but no drive. They were at a loose end. Time was the enemy. They felt as if they had been robbed. They no longer mattered. They had far too much time.

Then there was religion. All over the world the religious fundamentalists felt that their faith and beliefs were under attack. Attacking or denigrating a person’s deep-felt faith was incendiary. There were no holds barred to a religious fanatic.

People did not like change.

Whenever there had been periods of change there had always been great civil unrest. It took time for change to bed in.

Never in human history had so much change happened so quickly. The whole world had been turned upside down. Not only that, but inside, people were suffering from a demoralising malaise. It was the same psychological collapse that had affected the human cultures following their contacts with the superior technology of the European nations. The arrival of the huge sailing ships with their mystical death-dealing cannons, horses, armour and weapons undermined the very psyche of the cultures they encountered. The tribes, with their canoes, bows and arrows and spears, were suddenly up against people who not only looked different but acted different and brought new religions and weaponry. These tribes could not conceive of how anybody could build a colossal schooner or make a cannon. These strangers appeared like gods. It undermined every belief the endemic people held. Their worth disappeared. They were inferior in every respect. They felt worthless.

Such was the impact of superior technology.

It was the same with the aliens. They left people feeling that their beliefs, culture and lives were worthless. All over the world people were feeling hopeless, floundering and losing the will to live.

Soldiers, miners, fishermen and timber merchants were thrown on the scrap heap, but they were only the tangible symptoms. The very tenets of all religions had been thrown into question and fundamentalists were vainly trying to hold their hands over their ears and eyes. They did not want to hear it or see it. In reality the whole of humanity was now worthless. There was nothing to hold on to anymore. All social cohesion and inner pride had evaporated.

If this was what progress looked like then it was better to live in the past. At least in the old days there was certainty. Now nobody knew what to believe and all beliefs were either discarded or open to question.

The Cleansing – 31 – Chapter 15 continued

Posted on by Opher

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books

Sci-fi for me is a way to explore the real world and real people. I don’t write space opera. My heroes are Philip K Dick and Robert Sheckley. I like it grounded in insightful realism.

If you are enjoying these excerpts why not purchase the book. It’s available in 3 formats on Amazon.

Here’s the next snippet:

Billy was also caught up in an inferno. Except his was a joy and he was blossoming. The flames of dissent were igniting in his head and being fanned by millions of followers making him feel energised and indestructible. The momentum was building and Billy found himself gathering dissenters like a mighty avalanche careering down a mountainside building as it went. Billy was caught up in it like a fly trapped on a treacle trap, except he was basking in every minute of it. All his time was devoted to the movement – trawling the net, gathering the latest gossip, theories, gripes and information, distilling it into a series of blogs and rants. He’d purchased software and hardware and harnessed Dom the Geek from down the road to set it up. His and Charlene’s bedroom had been transformed into a studio. Now he ran a daily podcast in which he shared his ‘wisdom’. There was no shortage of help. Donations were flooding in. He could afford to do it right – the best cameras and microphones – a real professional job.

Gone were the days of standing on the bar at the Ashley addressing a measly hundred or so, or even holding a meeting at the community centre to address hundreds; he was now on line with an audience in the millions. There wasn’t a hall big enough to accommodate them. Billy had discovered that he had a knack for this podcasting; he just poured out all the stuff he’d picked up and gave it his ‘Smythe charm’. Everyone was suitably impressed at how natural he was – like he’d always played with microphones. Charly had always said he had the gift of the gab.

‘You’re a dark horse,’ Charly chortled. ‘Who’d have thought that you had it in you?’ She was checking out the hits on Billy’s latest rant. The numbers were going through the ceiling.

‘It needs doing,’ Billy replied, a slight modest blush tinging his cheeks. ‘We can’t let these lizards steal out bloody country, Charly.’

‘There’s a lot of people feel the same,’ Charly observed, looking at the latest figures. ‘The trouble is what can we actually do about it?’

‘I’m working on that,’ Billy replied with a smug look on his face.

‘Billy, what are you up to?’

‘We can’t just sit around and moan, can we?’

Charly looked sideways at him. Billy wasn’t a deep thinker. She knew that. He had trouble booking a restaurant for an anniversary surprise.

‘There’s this guy on the web,’ Billy explained. ‘Likes to keep in the background. Some rich geezer. Chucks in most of the readies. He’s as pissed off with the lizards as I am.’

‘And what’s he going to do with anything?’ Charly enquired doubtfully.

‘He’s full of ideas. Things I’d never have thought off. They’re dragging people off to these camps and wiping their brains, you know? The ones they’re not bumping off. He thinks we have to do something about it’

‘I’ve read all that,’ Charly muttered. ‘Don’t know if it’s really true.’

‘It’s true. This guy is sending me stuff. I’ve got the pictures to prove it. They’re ending up like zombies. Their brains wiped clean. He sent me photos. They look like they’re on fentanyl.’

‘And where’s he getting these photos from?’

‘He has contacts.’

She looked at him questioningly. Billy could be a bit gullible at times.

‘I dunno,’ Charly said thoughtfully. ‘They’ve rounded up a right bunch. I never liked the look of that Musk and Farage and their ilk. Glad to see the back of them.’ She chuckled. ‘I don’t even mind if their brains are turned to mush.’

‘Farage is alright,’ Billy protested. ‘A man of the people.’

‘Man of the people my arse,’ Charly sneered. ‘A fucking merchant banker with the gift of the gab who’s jumped on the bandwagon to easy street.’

Billy kept quiet. Farage was one of the few things they disagreed on.

‘So what are the big ideas then?’

‘Well,’ Billy shifted around, ‘protests and stuff.’

‘Protests and stuff?’

‘You know, marches and protests at the camps.’

‘You don’t even know where the camps are.’

‘Yes I do. He’s sent me the details.’ Billy was indignant. ‘There’s one at Clacton. Used to be an old holiday camp and then army base. They’ve taken it all over and put up these huts. He’s sent me photos.’ Billy was enthusiastic.

Charly looked sceptical. ‘What are you going to do there?’

‘We’re gonna march down and have a protest at the camp.’

‘And you’re organising this.’

‘I am,’ Billy said, looking pleased with himself. ‘I’m putting out the stuff this week. I’ve been preparing it.’ He showed Charlene the material he had stashed away in a file on his computer. There was a lot. She trawled through the headlines, photos, posters and details with a wary eye. This looked professional, not at all like Billy’s work. ‘I tell you Charly, we’re putting England at the centre of the whole fucking world!’

‘Looks really impressive,’ Charly remarked with a hint of doubt. ‘What’s all this about trains and busses?’

‘This guy says he will lay on special trains and coaches to take people to the place, even laying on fucking planes to bring people from abroad. We’re expecting thousands,’ he was excited. ‘He’s doing banners and all sorts. All I’ve got to do is publicise it through my blog, stir up interest. He’ll do the rest. Amazing eh?’

Charly fixed him with a wary eye. ‘You be careful you don’t get yourself brain wiped, Billy.’

Chameakegra was in her quarters checking through the material Neff had sent through to her. There were gigabytes of the stuff – all the details on each and every Hydran who had been extracted. The descriptions were graphic, highlighting their personality defects and crimes against humanity.

Judge Booghramakegra was right. This was nuclear. Surely if all this information was released every Hydran would clearly see that they had ample grounds for excising them from society. These people were sick. What they had been doing was criminal. They were the reason the whole world was in such a grave mess.

By removing them Hydran society had an opportunity to heal. People would be able to see that. This could change the balance of opinion. All Hydrans would see why they were doing it.

All that remained to be done was to decide how to release this massive body of material. There was far too much for anyone to read through. But was that necessary? They could dip in to select certain individuals of interest. By seeing the despicable activities of some characters, and having the whole body of information to back that up, they would surely see that the reasons were valid? The guilty ones had to be dealt with.

Even so there remained nagging doubts. Chameakegra had come to realise that many Hydrans were not rational beings. No matter what evidence they were provided with they tended to stick to their own prejudices. That couldn’t be helped. They believed or they didn’t. She had to put that down to the way Hydran’s minds operated. At least a percentage would be won over. She had to hope it was a large percentage. One thing she was sure of was that it could not do any harm. Let some of them believe that it was all made up. There was little she could do about that.  It was no good worrying about lost causes.

So what was the best way to get the information out to the widest audience? That was easy. She would ask Neff to release it to all media outlets and simultaneously send it out on all social media and communication platforms. Let them pick over it and select the morsels they found most interesting.

She set about producing a short introduction to accompany the release:

Dear Hydrans,

I am releasing the raw data that provides the justification for why we have extracted a large number of your citizens. There are a variety of criteria we have applied. Our investigations have been thorough and in depth. We have identified all those guilty of the following crimes against humanity:

Committing or instigating violence

Corruption and bribery

Greed

Racism, sexism and misogyny

Religious and/or political extremism

Indoctrination and brainwashing

Crime

Wanton destruction of the environment

It is our contention that these people are mentally or emotionally ill. Their illness has detrimentally impacted on your society. By removing these antisocial individuals we are enabling your society to heal.

The individuals that we have removed are not being punished; they are being cured of their various illnesses. When their rehabilitation is complete they will be returned to you unharmed and no longer suffering from their antisocial attitudes.

I hope this clarifies our actions for you.

Chameakegra – Commander of the Hydra Mission

When she had completed everything she had a moment’s reflection; should she involve Grrndakegra or Beheggakegri? Grrndakegra was joint Commander. Surely she needed to be updated? Yes. But not before the material had circulated.

She pasted Grrndakegra, Beheggakegri and Judge Booghramakegra into the release. Her claw hovered over it for a second, then the button was pressed, Neff received her instructions and the massive file of documents was on its way.

The Cleansing – 30 – Chapter 15

Posted on by Opher

We always seem to choose the wrong leaders. I think that is because we are tribal. We choose leaders like we did when we were small tribal units. We like strong leaders who are binary and decisive – everything is black and white. The trouble is that reality is not like that; reality is nuanced, it requires complex solutions to problems. Our ‘strong’ leaders end up as vicious dictators or self-serving greed-merchants. The system does not promote caring, compassionate people; it promotes narcissists, psychopaths and sociopaths who are in it for themselves. It creates division, hatred and wars. I wanted to explore a different approach in this Sci-fi novel. What if anybody who wanted to be leader was automatically excluded and the choice of leader was made on ability?:

Chapter 15 – Trust, Faith and Conspiracy

Running an administration is never easy at the best of times. Running a new global administration where there were no protocols and nobody knew each other or what they were doing was proving nigh on impossible. Even with the direction and assistance of the aliens coupled with the mighty resources of the Neff the task was immense. People had to sort out their roles and get a grip on their responsibilities. Ron was being run ragged.

There weren’t enough minutes in the day. He didn’t have time to think. His diary was a locomotive running down a mountainside with no brakes. All he could do was hold on tight. The morning started with a series of Teams meetings with the ministers working in the key sectors.

Mikhail Alexandra was running education. A lively, energetic individual who seemed to think education was the key to the universe. That was fortunate because that is what Ron also felt. He knew that if a society could unleash the creative power of youth and harness its energy and ideas then that society was going to prosper. Mikhail felt the same. He was putting together an explosive curriculum full of investigation, questioning, experiment and discussion. In Mikhail’s view rote learning was equivalent to the decay of the brain.

Mikhail was deliriously happy. The demise of the military, with its massive budget, meant a dividend for everything else and education was a Federation priority. From primary to tertiary the sector was expanding.

‘I am hiring staff,’ Mikhail chortled. ‘I am sacking staff.’

Ron looked bemused.

‘I don’t want lumps of meat in front of kids. I don’t want death by boredom. I want dynamism, energy, creativity. I want life.’

‘Are they out there?’

‘They’re out there,’ Mikhail was supremely confident. ‘We just have to find them. Fortunately we now have the money to attract the very best. It’s brilliant! You should ee the new facilities and equipment. There’s a revolution.’

After thirty minutes tracking through Mikhail’s dynamic views on education Ron was ready for a sleep. The sheer enthusiasm of the man was exhausting.

There was no such thing as down time. No sooner had the screen cleared of Mikhail’s animated face that Apsara Amarin’s image popped up. Apsara had the portfolio of Peace. It used to be the Department of War but war had been banished.

Apsara was a different can of worms. Whereas Mikhail could not possibly sit still for more than two seconds, Apsara was quiet and thoughtful. Her brief was the complete disbandment of all military units and the destruction of all military hardware. She’d set about this in the most logical manner as she was about to share with Ron.

He listened for half an hour without managing to get a word in. Apsara had it all sewn up. From the demobbing of millions of servicemen and women right across the entire world, the melting down of weapons, to the decommissioning of nuclear warheads and battleships Aspara had drawn up a programme and initiated a schedule. Grrndakegra was helping to implement the programme. Giforians were assisting in taking over all military bases and enabling the decommissioning. The Giforians and Drefs had already taken over from the beginning and Grrndakegra seemed happy for Aspara to take over. For once the Giforian Commander was not being obstructive – perhaps because their aims were convergent?

Aspara led him through a detailed diary of events scheduling the complete annihilation of all military resources right across the planet. It was so detailed and thorough that he nearly dropped off to sleep during Aspara’s presentation.

By the end he was no clearer on exactly what was going to happen but was left with an understanding that Aspara had it all in hand. All aspects of the military were booked for their demise. She was systematically taking it apart and redistributing the wealth. Chameakegra assured him that Aspara knew what she was doing. 

Ron was left with no doubt that the Department of Peace was in good hands.

No sooner had he finished one on-line meeting than another was stacking up demanding attention. Ron was even grabbing coffee and sandwiches on the fly.

Next up was the solemn idealistic intonations of Camila Soto. She had a hopefully temporary, but none-the-less highly important, role of managing Rehabilitation. Her job description covered the detainment camps, facilities on the moon and the psychiatric services necessary to complete rehabilitation. She was supposed to be liaising with Commander Grrndakegra although that had been proving difficult. Early on she had petitioned for Ron to intervene so that she could begin to inspect the installations. Ron and Chameakegra had given her their OKs but Grrndakegra had always come up with reasons why her inspections could not take place. There were last minute cancellations and unexpected events that disrupted their arrangements. She’d had to be content with a series of reports and was finding it all extremely frustrating.

Camilla was a real live wire who had already started making waves. She’d more or less forced her way in, commandeering a shuttle to carry out unofficial reconnaissance. After an extensive tour of the camps and lunar facilities she was incandescent. The camps were appalling and the lunar facilities would be great if they were ever completed. Her biggest concern was the lack of trained staff to carry out the role of ‘curing’ the excised. She wanted it done overnight and demanded that Ron use his muscle to sort it out. Perhaps the Federation come provide more expertise? In her opinion what Chameakegra and Judge Booghramakegra had sorted was simply not good enough. She commanded Ron to put pressure on to complete the facilities and empty the camps before it all melted down in one unholy explosion?

He assured Camilla that he would do his best and made a note to bring it up with Chameakegra at their next meeting. By the time he had finished their session he felt as if he had been run over by a careering bull.

Yu Chen Zhang, the energy chief, was a complete contrast. Where Camilla was sceptical and demanding, Yu was quiet, analytical and completely blown away by the wonderful new technologies the Federation was offering. According to Yu we could forget about fossil fuels, solar, wind, nuclear fission and even nuclear fusion, the future lay in some weird quantum force that provided unlimited energy with zero pollution and hardly any cost. Yu was ecstatic, at least in the restrained manner that a physicist displayed enthusiasm. What the Federation had already shared was blowing apart the whole world of physics. Yu could not have been happier. His main task was where to place the new energy plants and how to distribute the energy. He’d been working with a bunch of Xercs to sort it out and the speed they were going at was astounding him. Ron couldn’t have met a happier individual. For Zhang this was manna from the heavens.

Yu proceeded to enthusiastically, in an intense manner, explain just how the new energy producing plants were going to operate. That went straight over Ron’s head. All he needed to know was when it would be on tap.

By the end of that one he felt that his brain was on overload fit to burst.

Mia Jones had a difficult brief. The world was operating on a global scale but that didn’t obviate the need for local governance. The local circumstances had to be addressed. Local customs had to be catered for.

In many ways Mia’s role was the most important. The loss of sovereignty was the punctured fusion pile that had blown up for a lot of people. Mia had to find a way of marrying local needs and customs to that of the global perspective. In many ways the success of the whole project rested in her hands.

This quiet, shy woman was seeking to pull the rug from under the feet of the populists. If she could not find a way of appeasing local cultural concerns and marrying them to a global perspective the dissent would grow. They all knew that.

By the time the detailed proposals were gone through Ron was left gagging for oxygen. But it still wasn’t over.

Arjan Singh, heading the environmental department, was still to come to complete his morning review. The passionate, knowledgeable young man certainly knew his stuff. From conservation to the recreation of habitat and control of pollution, Arjan had his finger on the pulse. From the vastness of the Brazilian rainforest to the pond in the back yard of John Simmons, Arjan knew exactly what was needed to create diversity and encourage nature back to life.

By the time Arjan’s lively tones had died away it was lunchtime and Ron was ready for a quick nap. No such luck. A quick sandwich washed down with a strong coffee was the rushed order as the afternoon promised more of the same.

As Ron sat in his office munching his sandwich and thinking about the morning he realised that his cynicism was fading. The Federation was living up to its promise. Things were getting done on a monumental scale. He had utmost respect and support for the people carrying out the programme. But would it deliver quickly enough? The thing that worried him most was how much time did they have? Chameakegra was delivering everything she had promised but would the populace wait? He could sense the unrest building. Setting things in motion was one thing; preventing the suppressed emotions of the world’s population from erupting was something else again – and that buck also stopped at his door.

KGB and Trump – More evidence emerges

Posted on by Opher

Was Trump recruited as a KGB asset in 2018?

Did Russia get Trump elected using targeted social media, propaganda and lies?

Have the KGB got compromising videos of Trump – namely, that there is a Kremlin file with compromising video material from Trump’s stay at Moscow’s Ritz-Carlton hotel in 2013?

Are they using this to blackmail him into supporting them in Ukraine?

Ex-KGB official says 2 countries have copies of compromising Trump video

Explains a lot about the way Trump has been backing down and cosying up to Putin.

The Sixties

Posted on by Opher

I can only speak for myself and my experience of the sixties.

The sixties were a revolution. Not a violent overthrowing of the establishment but a revolution that took place in the head. At the time I believed it was shared by many of us. We were rebelling against an establishment that represented values that we could not accept. There was an inbuilt hypocrisy and hierarchical acceptance that I grew to despise. Society was steeped in a puritanical cloud that sucked the joy out of life. The class system pervaded to keep us in our place – fodder for the machine – workers to be exploited – fodder for the guns. The puritanical rules applied to us but not them. The upper classes were awash with licence. We were controlled. Religion was nothing to do with spirituality but used as a moral straitjacket for us, paid lip service to, by them, and was nothing less than a mechanism of power and control. We were being put through the sausage machine of an education system that was designed to discourage questioning and mind expansion and used for control and to grade us for entry into the further machine of careers and employment. The promise was that if you kept your nose clean and worked hard you could earn money, buy a house and car and bring up a family in suburban comfort (while those at the top exploited, cavorted and lived a very different life with mansions, yachts and orgies).

It started with the Beats. Kerouac and Ginsberg pointed the way to a different kind of life. We didn’t have to be consumed by the war-mongering, exploiting, hierarchical machine with its inbuilt racism and misogyny. We weren’t pegs to be placed in holes. Life could be more exciting, colourful and meaningful. Racism, misogyny, exploitation and warmongering were evil. We could build a better world based on sharing, equality, love and spirituality. Life wasn’t about making money and owning things. Friendship, experience and understanding were more important. Life was an adventure.

Music was the unifying force for all of us young, naïve revolutionaries. Music expressed the emotions that we were feeling.  The poetic lyrics, with their defiant anti-war, anti-racist sentiments and positive spirituality and love represented the equality and peaceful we were seeking.  People like Dylan, Phil Ochs, Joan Baez, Donovan, Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart and Country Joe and the Fish were creating music and expressing values that resonated with what I was thinking and feeling. We were a movement. There was a battlefield of ideals to be fought over.

We, the sixties freaks, were existing in a parallel universe, apart from the ‘straight’ society with a different set of values and aspirations. Naively we believed that our culture of sharing, equality, freedom and non-profit cohabitation would blossom and flourish and might even eventually become mainstream. Little did we know? The wily establishment was already infiltrating its profit-making fingers into the fabric of freakdom. There was money to be made, bands to be bought, fashions to be sold, images to be exploited, music to be made into product. Rebellion became big business before you could blink. As a seventeen/eighteen-year-old rebel, clashing with authorities and parents, living in a bubble of like-minded friends, already immersed in the music scene and Beats, Roy Harper loomed like the epitome of all we were espousing. To suddenly be exposed to the full power of ‘Circle’ and then ‘McGoohan’s Blues’

Goodreads – Book review – God’s Bolt

Posted on by Opher

Book review: God’s Bolt, by Ron Forsythe

When a novel begins with the total destruction of Earth and everyone on it … where do you go from there?

In God’s Bolt, Ron Forsythe goes to the only survivor: scientist Helen Southcote. Alone on a United Nations sponsored space station, she has to witness the asteroid impact that destroys the world, and live with the knowledge that she’s the only survivor.

She doesn’t handle it well.

Helen’s only companion is an Artificial Intelligence running the station that she doesn’t really like, and her only comfort the knowledge that the search for intelligence elsewhere, her life’s obsession, was successful: There is life out in the rest of the galaxy. Unfortunately, it’s so far away that it’s no hope of rescue, and unlikely to even know of the Earth’s destruction.

God’s Bolt by [Ron Forsythe]

https://www.amazon.com/Gods-Bolt-Ron-…

For the rest of the novel Forsythe flashes back to Helen’s life, the creation of the space station’s A.I., and the discovery of the massive asteroid that sneaks up on Earth, along with efforts to divert it. At the same time we follow Helen’s recovery from despair. She’s seen her friends and family all die, and is now stranded on a space station that can never land. The best she can hope for is to survive, alone, and watch the world burn beneath her.

Not the most upbeat life in the world. Still, God’s Bolt is fascinating in the same way so many disaster stories are, even if the “Who will live?” question seems settled right from the beginning. The writing can be repetitive at times, especially when it comes to Helen’s breakdown and the fight against the asteroid–I couldn’t help thinking it wasn’t necessary to say it was huge so many times, for instance. But it was an interesting, optimistic, look at what the world could be in a century and a half or so. Interesting enough that I was sad to see it go!

Helen is the main viewpoint character in God’s Bolt, and I found her well rounded, especially as we get to follow her through her life and dedication to the search for extraterrestrial intelligence. That’s a subject I assumed was an unnecessary side story, but just about everything is tied up at the end.

I also found the efforts to stop the disaster, complete with infighting in the world’s government and the rise of a doomsday cult, to be fascinating, even knowing their efforts would ultimately fail. All in all a fun read, or at least as fun as planetary Armageddon can be.

By the way, improbably … there’s a sequel.

The Cleansing – 29 – Chapter 14

Posted on by Opher

Attempting to delve into the psyche of a population faced with the reality of an alien invasion was an interesting task:

Chapter 14 – Seeds of Resistance

All over the planet people were emerging from their stupor and finding their voice. The Federation had come from nowhere. They’d taken over without a single shot being fired. People were left stunned. There was disbelief at how quickly and efficiently the Federation had assumed control. The military had let them down. They had simply capitulated. But that wasn’t the end of it. The people weren’t about to allow a bunch of alien lizards to waltz in and take over without so much as a ‘how’s your father?’ Something had to be done. Surely someone could do something?

These lizards were all over the place, rounding up people, manhandling children, and the rumour was of concentration camps, torture and mass graves.

Nobody could simply stand by and allow that to go on, could they? There was a feeling that we were at war, under occupation. The resistance began to coalesce.

The reaction to Ron’s address was mixed. There were many who saw resistance as futile, who felt that they had no option but to place their faith in the vision being sold to them. They had to believe the lizards. They had no choice. It all sounded great but they were reluctant to believe it but they felt they had little choice other to wait and see and hope for the best. Maybe they would be as good as their word? On the other side there were those who saw Ron as a traitor and thought the lizards were taking them all for a ride. We were being occupied by hostile forces that needed opposing at all costs. Principles were at stake.

The underlying groundswell was that nobody, whatever their views on the likely outcome, liked the idea of these alien lizards running the show. That caused universal disquiet. Could they be trusted? Nobody knew for certain. Everything was open to speculation.

The greatest focus of unrest was over the loss of sovereignty. Patriotic sentiments ran high. How could these aliens swarm in and do away with their country? They’d taken on Billy’s mantra – thousands of years of culture gone just at the stroke of a pen. It wasn’t right. This was soil that had been fought over, earth that was rich with the blood of generations. There were highly valued cultural identities that were deeply engrained in peoples’ psyche. You didn’t give up your whole way of life without a struggle. No amount of benefits could compensate for that. Their blood was up.

Besides, wasn’t it obvious, global governments meant absolute power and absolute power meant corruption and nepotism on a grand scale – assuming that the aliens weren’t controlling everything from behind the scenes, which was even worse.

The dice had been rolled. Now it felt as if the whole world was holding its breath. There was no telling where those numbers would fall. All over the planet there were bitter disputes between friends and in families. It split the people into two camps: the believers and the non-believers.

The believers, while not being happy with an alien take-over, were sold on the massive benefits that could ensue. On balance they thought it was worthwhile to be rid of war and put resources into other things. They liked the idea of good, cheap energy and non-polluting industry, of restoring the natural world. There were many who saw the removal of the greed merchants, corrupt and crooked politicians and the violent as being a good thing though there was general consternation at the brutal way these people were being treated as well as concern that the correct people were being identified. Many quite liked the idea of a global government, unity and inequality, even though there were an equal number who were horrified by the idea. It all came down to trust. They did not like the idea that they were being fooled. The insecurity levels were firing through the roof. Were they being led down the garden path? Nobody was sure.

The non-believers did not even believe a word they were told. They saw the aliens as invaders who were working some elaborate deception and did not believe they ever intended to deliver. They saw it as a ploy and the world government as a sham. As for the removal of the elites, they viewed the removal of capitalists as communism and believed that it would remove incentive and demotivate everyone, although they were quite happy for the crooked politicians to be rounded up even if they could not agree on who the crooked ones were. That seemed to split along partisan lines. As for the idea of a global government; for many that was a complete non-starter. Nothing could compensate for the loss of their country. They argued that the aliens could not simply impose unity and equality. It went against human nature. People were different. Some were better than others. That was the law of nature. To many these aliens sounded like a bunch of insane communists.

The battle lines were being drawn. Violent arguments were breaking out all over the world as people became more entrenched and conspiracies rampaged through the internet.

Grrndakegra was watching closely, selecting targets. This was fertile ground. The rising swell of dissent was throwing up a string of new leaders. She watched to see how this might be exploited.

Her conversation with Beheggakegri had been unsettling. She had watched the slimy ball of blubber writhe around in pathetic weak fear. She’d seen it – even if he’d come through with a half-decent plan, the fear had been there. Beheggakegri was the head of a big organisation, a person of enormous power, but she’d seen the weakness. When threatened by the whippet of a Giforian Chameakegra he’d folded like a deflated balloon. The threat of that Judge had terrified him. The Dref had no spine. She felt repulsed. Grrndakegra knew that Beheggakegri possessed not a shred of morality. His whole life had been a litany of schemes and deals. How this sagging, overblown apology for a Dref had gained the position he was in was beyond her. He wasn’t even the most focussed laser in the beam. She knew she could not trust him a centimetre. If it came to it he’d throw his granny under the shuttle. He’d certainly throw her in the propulsion unit to save his own scutes. She knew she had to double down on covering her own thoracic scutes.

Yet Beheggakegri still called the shots. She’d go along with him for now until it was expedient not to. He was right about Chameakegra. She was a detached laser. These Hydrans were hopeless, violent and irredeemable. This was all a waste of time. Follow the written procedure, assess them for what they are and pull the plug. All this silliness was ridiculous. The sooner Chameakegra woke up to it the better. That was frustrating. But, despite all that she warmed to her much more than he had to Beheggakegri. She was crazy but there was no doubting where her heart was; she meant what she said. She liked that. You knew where you were with that kind of person, even if she was totally misguided. Those Hydrans were a lost cause.

There was work to be done.

She began trawling through the Hydrans media, selecting shots of various rising stars busy rabble-rousing crowds, looking for potential; a strategy forming in her head. 400,000 hits on that one. She made a note.

Transforming hot air into action would soon bring out the true nature of these psychotic apes. She was sure of that. All she had to do was lubricate the wheels of dissent and transform it into physical confrontation.

Ron relaxed in his office following his speech. He’d poured himself a stiff whiskey. He told himself he deserved it but really it was to steady his shaking hand. He could not quite believe that he had done it, that he hadn’t simply dissolved into a blubbering heap.

A short while ago everything had been normal. He’d lived in his modest little house in his small village with his lovely wife. Life had been simple. He’d get up, have a leisurely breakfast, check out his facebook, check his book sales, check his emails and take a leisurely stroll down to the village shop to buy a paper. Read a little, write a lot, put out a bunch of posts on his blog aimed at the nincompoops, greed-ridden bombasts, violent extremists, religious nutcases and corrupt shitheads who ran the world and the ignorant, stupid, gullible, misinformed sheep who put them there. All utterly pointless, as his wife Liz kept telling him, but it allowed him to vent his spleen. It had all been so ordinary. Then the aliens had arrived and thrown the whole shebang up in the air. Part of him had liked that. In his opinion it had needed knocking to bits.  But, the jury was out as to whether they would really do what they said they would. He had to believe it, didn’t he?

Now here he was, sitting in a plush office in New York, in the UN building on Turtle Bay, not just visiting but actually fronting up a world government. And he’d just delivered a speech to 8 billion people. The biggest hit he’d ever had on his blog had been when one of his posts had gone viral and received over two thousand hits. That had knocked him out. Now, here he was with an audience in billions. He couldn’t quite take it in.

‘Where did that come from?’ Liz asked as he walked in to give him a big hug.

He grinned. ‘I dunno. How’s it feel to be the first lady?’

Out on the streets the shock had dissipated. People were emerging from their stunned comas. The realisation was hitting home.

Life was superficially getting back to normal but it was a false normality. Nothing was the same. The shops opened, the busses ran and businesses reopened but it was different. There were holes in all the corporations where the corrupt bosses had been and that meant vacancies that had to be filled, expertise that had to be found, decisions had to be made. Nothing was working properly yet. People were scrambling to get the jobs done. The corrupt, greedy and psychotic might have been selfish and corrupt but at least things worked, systems operated. Now corporations had to find ways to cover the absentees. There was a period of chaos as companies worked out how to bridge gaps.

Even with the best will in the world things take time. Even these alien lizards with all their super technology weren’t miracle workers. People had to be trained, resources had to be diverted. It took a lot of time. Periods of transition were always fraught. Nothing had ever happened on this scale before. It was going to take time. Until then it was muddle-through time.

On top of all the chaos caused by the abductions there were the bewildered troops, demobbed and sent home as their weapons were confiscated and they were decommissioned.

According to the lizards society was being dismantled and put together into something better. That’s not quite what it seemed like.

Chaos bred fear. Fear bred distrust. Distrust bred anger. Emotions whirled into tornadoes. Logic and rationality were the first casualties.

There were times when even the most optimistic despaired.

The Cleansing – 28 – Chapter 13 continued

Posted on by Opher

An alien scenario – the same political intrigue. I try to make my sci-fi relevant to the present day:

Beheggakegri was shaken. The reality of Chameakegra’s message continued to hit home. He’d placed himself in a perilous position and he knew it. The Judge had power. This wasn’t something that was going to go away. If Judge Booghramakegra had sufficient evidence in the form of numerous incriminating statements from various departmental heads he might be in trouble. She could take that to the council on Gestor and they could oust him. If she had enough…

He lay on his luxopexi absently shoving dainties down his throat and trying to think. What could he do to remove the damage?

Had they left a trail? Were there any messages, orders that could be laid at his portal? He thought not but he could not be certain. You couldn’t trust people these days. They had an infuriating habit of covering their own backs by surreptitiously recording things. Scandalous!

But, no. He was careful. He might have acted spontaneously but he was too much of an old hand. Even when he was operating on autopilot he was sure that he would have followed a safe procedure. He knew how to cover his trail. They probably had a lot of anecdotal evidence but nothing that would hold up to interrogation. There had been no direct contact. He’d done everything through Grrndakegra. If necessary he’d chuck Grrndakegra down the thruster. When she’d served her purpose that’s what she intended to do anyway. He was in the clear. That is unless Grrndakegra had been canny enough to record their conversations as insurance. Her scutes rippled with multi-coloured fear as the doubts rose up again. She would have done. He knew it. She’d have recorded everything. Grrndakegra was no fool either. She’d try and push the blame on to him. He was certain.

He poured another synth to wash the dainties down.

What could he do?

Silly ideas kept popping into his head. A sign of deperation. He could employ someone to go and steal Grrndakegra’s communicator and comulator. That’s where the kuff would have stored it. But what if she’d stashed it somewhere for safe keeping? Besides, Grrndakegra would have backed up any incriminating evidence in a safe place – probably a copy of all the incriminating messages somewhere out in the comulator cloud.

He could arrange for Grrndakegra to meet with the scene of a nasty accident. But would that guarantee that the evidence would be destroyed? Maybe it would all surface as her things were dispensed with?

He could bribe Grrndakegra to take the fall. But what with?

Could he deal with all the department heads who might squeal? He thought not. He didn’t even know who they all were. Grrndakegra dealt with all that.

It was all that drangling Chameakegra’s fault. If it came to it he would see her go down with him. He’d get his revenge in first!

Dainty followed dainty as his anxieties boiled and a proper solution failed to materialise. She would have to discuss the matter with Grrndakegra.

Grrndakegra’s personal communicator buzzed. It could only be one person and he knew what it would be about. She flicked on record. ‘Grrndakegra, we have a problem.’

‘I know,’ she replied calmly. Beheggakegri sounded agitated and that was not a good sign.

‘What? Chameakegra? You know?’ Beheggakegri blustered as he attempted to process the fact that Grrndakegra already knew.

‘Yes, she came to see me with threats and Booghramakegra and the like. Throwing her weight around. Saying she had evidence.’ Grrndakegra explained. She sounded calm and unconcerned which calmed Beheggakegri down a great deal. Maybe things weren’t as bad as he had imagined? After all, Grrndakegra had been dealing first-hand with the situation. If she wasn’t greatly bothered…

Grrndakegra’s relaxed manner made Beheggakegri think anew; If she really did have enough evidence surely she would have initiated something by now. Was it all a bluff? Was she just using leverage? It was hard to know how that cursed dranglers mind worked. ‘Are you recording this?’

‘Recording this? Why would I be recording this?’ Grrndakegra lied.

‘Never mind. Look, we have to change tack here,’ Beheggakegri said, thinking on his pedal extremities. ‘We can’t be seen to be deliberately sabotaging the operation. Booghramakegra would tear us apart. Are you certain that you haven’t left a trail? Is there anything tangible that could find its way back to us?’

‘Nothing,’ Grrndakegra replied. ‘I’m no fool. Everything has been verbal.’ She smirked at her agitated boss. ‘I’ve covered out scutes.’

A wave of relief flowed through Beheggakegri and his mind started slipping into gear. ‘OK, but we still have to take this seriously. Circumstantial evidence can be damning.’

Grrndakegra waited.

‘OK, this is what we do. Give out some clear instructions – you know, it’s come to your attention that the operation to produce the lunar facilities is proceeding far too slowly. We need to pull out all the stops and get it up and running as soon as possible. That you will be making regular inspections and expecting results. Cover our backs.’

Grrndakegra nodded. ‘I can do that. We can get it completed in no time.’

Beheggakegri nodded pensively. That was good. If the facility was up and running it would tell the lie to anything that Booghramakegra and Chameakegra might cook up.

‘Same with the camps,’ Beheggakegri instructed. ‘Something along the lines that it has come to your attention that some of the arrests have been too rough and that has to stop. All Hydrans are to be treated with the utmost respect and courtesy. A notice to all camp chiefs that even though the camps are only an interim solution they are to build as many facilities as necessary to avoid overcrowding and ensure that the inmates are treated well, we adequate facilities, privacy, good food and recreational facilities. Disorder is to be clamped down on. The camps are not punishment centres and that you will be regularly touring to ensure standards are met – something along those lines.’

‘I can do that.’ Grrndakegra smirked. She was enjoying seeing Beheggakegri squirm but was also quite relieved to hear what seemed like a good sound course of action. She didn’t know Beheggakegri had it in him. She had been worried. That Chameakegra was a threat. Grrndakegra had been concerned and not sure what to do. It seemed like there was some life left in that old frux Beheggakegri after all.

Beheggakegri considered his instructions. Had he covered everything? He thought so. If Grrndakegra got that into motion it would take the plasma out of Booghramakegra’s thrusters.

‘Right. That should cover things. Now, I want that drangling kuff Chameakegra to pay for this. I want this to fail horribly and her to go down.’

Grrndakegra waited. She’d known all along that this was the only thing in Beheggakegri’s head – a personal vendetta. For some reason he had taken a personal dislike of the Giforian Chameakegra. He’d stop at nothing. The fate of 8 billion Hydrans was immaterial. They were pawns in Beheggakegri’s game. Not that Grrndakegra was particularly bothered about the Hydrans. From what she’d seen they were a bunch of psychotic apes, space vermin of the worst kind, they deserved to be terminated. But Chameakegra? What was that about? She was a bit namby-pamby but she’d found her pleasant enough. She certainly had more time for Chameakegra than she had for Beheggakegri. She surmised it was all about control – some psychological flaw in Beheggakegri’s make-up. Whatever, it was not really any of her concern. She just did what she did, what she was instructed.

‘What do you want me to do next?’ Grrndakegra asked.

Beheggakegri was thinking out loud. ‘We can’t be seen to have any role in the failure of her crackpot idea. It has to fail and fail horribly.’

‘So, what’s your big idea?’

‘We use the opposition.’ Beheggakegri replied thoughtfully.

‘What opposition?’

‘All over the planet. There are groups of Hydrans organising against the crazy systems Chameakegra is putting in place. We have to fan those flames into an inferno. Use the Hydran’s propensity towards violence against them. If we can get the Federation to see that these Hydran’s are intrinsically violent and that Chameakegra is trying to introduce space vermin into the Federation she will be utterly discredited. I can take it from there.’

Grrndakegra ran the idea through her head. Yes it could work. ‘OK. Leave it with me.’

Beheggakegri shut down the communication. Why had he mentioned recording? Now he’d put that idea in Grrndakegra’s head. Had they done enough? Covered all the bases? He’d just have to trust Grrndakegra on that one. But at least he felt a lot better about things and had the start of a way forward. That damn Chameakegra was going to pay for all this. He’d make sure of that.

 Beheggakegri turned his attention back to Ron Forsythe’s address to the nation. He had to admit that the Hydran had handled it well. Beheggakegri could already see that he was going to be a problem. There was someone else who might need dealing with.

‘Have we actually got enough to undo Beheggakegri and Grrndakegra?’ Chameakegra asked Judge Booghramakegra.

The Judge looked thoughtful. ‘Probably,’ she replied, ‘but I wouldn’t count on it. Beheggakegri is an experienced politician and the bar is set high. I’ve no doubt that he will have covered his tracks and would be prepared to throw Grrndakegra in front of the shuttle.’

‘My thinking too.’

‘My view is that they’ll cover their tracks. The Lunar facilities and camps will magically begin to function well. We may have blocked the leak in the plasma there.’ The Judge mused. ‘We need to focus more on the issues that are causing most upset with the Hydrans.’

‘The extractions.’

‘Precisely.’

‘I’ve already tackled that with Grrndakegra,’ Chameakegra mused. ‘What else can we do?’

‘What’s done is done,’ the Judge replied pensively. ‘Somehow we have to regain the initiative.’

‘Easier said than done. Those viddies on their communication network are pretty damning. They make us look like a bunch of thugs and have spread terror all around.’

‘We have to justify them,’ the Judge pronounced.

‘I already have,’ Chameakegra protested. ‘I have explained why we are carrying out the extractions in my addresses.’

‘I know you have,’ the Judge smiled. ‘But they don’t believe you. They think you are fooling them and dragging people off to either murder them or brainwash them.’

‘I don’t know what else I can do.’

‘You need to win them over. Make them realise why the extractions were necessary.’

‘How do I do that?’

‘The Neff has all the details on them, doesn’t she?’

‘Yes,’ Chameakegra replied beginning to grasp the gist of where this was going.

‘Release the dirt,’ Judge Booghramakegra grinned. ‘Let them see exactly how despicable they all are. Give them the full works.’

Why are they withholding and redacting? Not going away!

Posted on by Opher

Trump mentioned 35,000 times – more than anybody else.

Clinton’s are both subpoenaed but not Trump? Why’s that?

Why is Trump employing an army of people to redact, delete and withhold names?

Why, with descriptions of the most sordid rapes, injuries, violence and criminal activity has nobody been taken to trial?

Why is so much still being withheld?

When Trump was talking about the swamp and the paedophile ring it was true. He just forgot to mention his own role in it! Epstein’s big buddy!

Was the Teenage pageant Trump ran nothing less than a recruitment drive for Epstein?

Redacting the Truth.

Posted on by Opher

The world is undoubtedly run by a shady, powerful group of billionaires who believe they are above the law.

They buy power. They control politicians. They engineer wars, genocide and poverty for profit.

Humanity is corrupt.