Conexion – Sci-fi -Paperback/Kindle – Conexion is a drug!

Posted on by Opher

Conexion is a drug that takes you back through DNA to the memories of your ancestors.

The world is run by a shady group of trillionaires.

Then there are the aliens. Who are they?

Excerpt – Conexion 

Down below, in what used to be the city of New York, before Terra became one complete urban conurbation, there is a meeting room that is simply called the Hub. It is like no other. The room is technically and physically secure. It has advanced hardware that would make it impossible for any form of bugging or recording device to operate – neither could anybody gain access to that room without being fully processed, nor bring any explosive, chemical or biological device into the place.

The Hub was the most secure place on the planet. It was the centre from which the Consortium coordinated its business interests.

It was said that if anyone in the Consortium sneezed the whole system’s economy took a dive.

The site for the Hub was carefully chosen. It was close to the United Nations Government building. That was no coincidence. The Consortium, who regularly met in the Hub, had direct contact with the government and needed to exert influence.

The Consortium was made up of twenty selected members. It was the most select group anywhere in the whole system. To be considered for inclusion one had to firstly be one of the wealthiest individuals in the whole system and secondly to have been vetted to the nth degree. The Consortium did not officially exist and that was the way they intended to keep it.

In line with this policy there were clandestine entry points. Jump tubes, that were completely unregistered, took people in to the secure vestibule. The members of the Consortium were always incognito. They were addressed as numbers and wore costumes with electronic facial masks that maintained their anonymity. Even the meeting room was arranged to maintain this secrecy. Each place around the table was an isolated cubicle so that members could see one another but there was no personal contact.

The inner core were simply called Numbers 1,2 and 3. They set the agendas and ran the meetings.

Everyone was seated when Number 1 entered, flanked on both sides by Numbers 2 and 3. Numbers 2 and 3 seated themselves leaving Number 1 standing. He looked around at the gathered individuals. In their Consortium costume it was impossible to tell if they were male, female, old or young or any other details. Only the inner core knew exactly who constituted the Consortium, though there was much speculation in the minds of the other members that was unlikely to have been too wide of the mark.

‘Right,’ the tall slender figure of Number 1 announced in the stentorious tones of a real aristocrat from long ago, which indeed he was. Number 1, whose real name was Darius, could trace his family right back to beyond the crusades. ‘I call this meeting to order.’ After a suitable pause he sat himself down.

‘This particular meeting is more of a briefing update,’ Number 1 informed them. That was no surprise, most of them were. The inner core of Numbers 1, 2 and 3 tended to meet separately and develop most of the important policy decisions. ‘I wish to keep you informed and receive preliminary feedback. We have three items on the agenda. Item one, as you can see is this fellow Jesus De Monde.’ Number 1 looked around at them. ‘He started out as a minor sideshow on Titan but we have noted that he has attracted quite a following and is beginning to become more universal.’

‘What does he stand for?’ One of the members asked in a bemused manner. All faces turned to stare. If one was in the Consortium one was expected to be au fait with all developments. Everyone should be up on Jesus De Monde.

Number 1 did not seem too unfazed by the interruption. ‘This Jesus character is seeking rapprochement between the various political and religious groups that are presently at odds with the federation. He is seeking a unified front and a non-violent stance to achieve equal rights for the extra-planetary citizens,’ Number 1 summarised. ‘He believes that everyone should be treated equally,’ he added with a twinkle in his eye and raise of eyebrows that indicated how absurd that was.

‘That could impact on a number of our operations,’ someone observed. ‘We are making a lot of money out of supplying those groups with arms.’

‘And supplying the security forces too,’ someone else observed.

‘Precisely,’ Number 1 agreed. ‘Which is why I have asked the government to closely monitor the situation. I have instructed them to get the BIA on the case.’

‘Why don’t we just take him out?’ someone else asked. ‘Surely that can’t be too hard?’

Number 1 fixed him with a frozen look. ‘Because there may be opportunities for us to profit here,’ he explained with a pained expression on his mask of a face. ‘He has a lot of followers. We have opportunities for merchandising. Indeed, I have allotted Number 17 with the franchise for exploiting that market.’

‘I will supply everyone with detailed profit sheets in due course,’ Number 17 reported.

‘For now,’ Number 1 resumed, ‘we do not regard Jesus as a major threat to our other operations. Our investigations indicate that he is unlikely to gain any close unification of those groups. They hate each other as much as they do the federation,’ he remarked with a whimsical smile. ‘We cannot see them ever working together. Neither can we see them adopting a non-violent stance any time soon. That means that the government will not be addressing the disparity between pay and condition between the extra-planetaries and planetaries any time soon. For now it appears that our interests are secure. Number 20 will shortly supply you with details of the profits from our various enterprises and I think you will find everything is very satisfactory. That is why I have requested that the government merely monitors the annoying individual but refrains from taking action.’

There were general nods of agreement.

‘If we are not careful this Jesus character will create too much peace,’ Number 17 observed in a surly defensive manner having taken umbrage at the attitude that had been picked up from the group. ‘Peace is not good for business.’

‘Quite,’ Number 1 agreed in a manner that put the matter to bed. ‘Now item 2. The Nationalist bombing campaign. Over to you I believe Number 2.’

Conexion: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9781729561782: Books

Conexion – Kindle Edition – A Sci-Fi Classic

Posted on by Opher

Conexion is a drug.

In the future it is still all about power. General Secretary Rheen holds the reins but does he hold the power? What about the shadowy Consortium who supply the money to get him elected? The separatists who are prepared to use violence? The Unification Movement who would bring the opposition together? Or the people who democratically vote? What of the stranded Starship? And what of the new drug Conexion that opens genetic memories to unlock an unexpected past? The new Gaia religion? Or the three massive spherical objects heading for earth? How will it all come to a conclusion?

Conexion is a Sci-Fi novel. Conexion is a drug that takes you back through your ancestral memory stored in your DNA.

Posted on by Opher

Conexion

 

In the future it is still all about power.

General Secretary Rheen holds the reins but does he hold the power?

What about the members of the shadowy Consortium who supply the money to get him elected? …

The separatists who are prepared to use violence?

The Unification Movement who would bring the opposition together?

Or the people who democratically vote?

What of the stranded Starship?

And what of the new drug Conexion that opens genetic memories to unlock an unexpected past?

The new Gaia religion?

Or the three massive spherical objects heading for earth?

How will it all come to a conclusion?

Extract

Chapter 1 – As it was

James Hendrix, better known as Jimi to everyone who knew him, noted the first indication at precisely 2.37 and 37 seconds on May 30th 2249.

It was a date that was to go down in history as one of the most auspicious events ever recorded, even though at the time Jimi thought little of it and paid it scant attention.

That was not surprising. Warnings went off routinely as every lump of rock or piece of space junk that was heading anywhere near an inhabited planet was flagged up. Most were of little consequence and would simply burn up in the atmosphere but a few were big enough to cause concern and had to be dealt with. That’s why the agency had been set up.

Jimi assigned the latest intruder a signature code – JHUMA91074 – then he left it to its automatic tracking system and went back to playing Solum with the station’s computer.

JH were his initials, UMA stood for Ursa Major, the segment of space from which the object was first recorded coming in. It was quite an unusual one as could be seen from the low number of recorded warnings, 91074 indicated the number of objects that had originated from that sector.

Once assigned, the computer continued to plot the trajectory and that was normally where the whole matter ended. Most of the debris was considered of no risk and was merely monitored, never to be heard of again. People like Jimi performed the mundane task of acknowledging the warning just as a fail-safe. The Public did not like the idea of there not being a human touch somewhere along the line. They felt that humans should make the decisions even though it had been well proven that computers were far better at it.

There wasn’t a great deal of excitement to be had in Jimi’s work. Being an astrophysicist had sounded great when he’d opted for the training but wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Jimi worked for the AEWC – the Asteroid Early Warning Centre – in its favour, it paid well and at least got one up into vacuum even if that’s as far as it went. For the most part his work consisted of spending long tedious hours on his own every night, pointlessly acknowledging things of no significance that the computer had already done, and vainly hoping for an event of significance to finally take place so that there was at least something to get excited over. The sad fact was that even if a major event did occur then all Jimi had to do was ensure that the computer had passed the information on to his superiors, which it routinely did anyway – so even that wasn’t exactly thrilling.

It was not a pleasant thing to realise that one was in effect redundant and surplus to requirements, so Jimi tried not to think about it too much, which was why he spent most of his time playing games with the computer. Even that enterprise was futile – about as pointless as checking space junk. He knew the computer could beat him hands down every time if it had not been programmed to limit its capabilities in order to give him a fighting chance. Still, it whiled the hours away.

Jimi had not paid too much attention to this particular intrusion other than to note that the object was far too far away at this point in time to be of any importance, so he did not have to register it into his consciousness or grant it a moment’s speculation as to what it might be. A minor niggle did reach the surface of his thoughts; if it was far away and yet had registered it had to be big. But hey, space was full of lumps of rock and the majority of them were of absolutely no significance. Space was big. As long as they did not cross routes or threaten planets they could be disregarded.

It goes to show, doesn’t it? There’s no limit to how wrong a person might be!

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