Life in Communism 2.1.

Mixed Brigade

By Carla O’Gallchobhair

© Carla O’Gallchobhair, 2025-26. To Mamon, Cathal, Tanya, Evgeni, and Maksim, Michael, Yvonne, Jean-Michel, and Odile, Vicky and Nora, and all friends of Palestine

And to the people at House Kopernikus

“To give and not to expect return, that is what lies at the heart of love.”

Oscar Wilde

“A generation of the unteachable is hanging upon us like a necklace of corpses.”

George Orwell

“Give us four years to teach the children and the seed we’ll have sown will never be uprooted. Give us the child for eight years and it will be a Communist forever.”

Vladimir I. Lenin

“Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates trust. Kindness in giving creates love.”

                                                              Mao Zedong

Preface in Illyria. Lovebots, new Sumud flotilla, and yellow transport beams

January of Year 20 of the Revolution, 2021 Year of the World Revolution being Year Zero

A New Sumud Flotilla bringing lovebots, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

“Guillaume already told the story of how our comrade Rouge and her fellow revolutionary nanobots used M. Brun’s infatuation with Mlle Rouge and his wish to marry her to ween him from fasco propaganda. Yet we can use love as a defensive strategy on a much grander scale. Comrade Josip and Rosa have invented the original lovebot to infect the counter-revolutionary operating programme, Selfmade, and their fasco Enterprise browser. That way we can return both of them to our revolutionary One World operating programme, with the Aurora browser and the revolutionary moral imperatives, namely ‘Do not do harm!, Material-check!, and Rely on the experience of village assemblies world-wide!’

One of the greatest capitalist inventions surely was the internet. That meant the superfast transmission of communications between computers via broadband and wifi, and the publication and storage of all possible data in the world wide web. Yet the rays they used to transfer the data were still not the natural vibrations which living beings actually use to communicate within the body as well as between each other through brain or neural wave transmissions. In fact they were millions, if not billion times stronger and more harmful.  And they required cables, wifi towers and billions of devices. By contrast, we might call the low-frequency neural waves healthy green waves, red intranet, or bio-wifi. Jean-Wadi and Maher have found out more on the biochemistry behind them and will tell us about it in detail intraline, when we are already on the boat from Marseille to Tel Aviv. Then we discovered nature-speak and nature language. That is the common language of humans, animals, robots – and other devices and all intranet-capable things –, and plants, otherwise known as the harp.  Or we could call harp bio-intranet or bio-wifi, because it takes place not only between machines, but within and between the bodies of living beings.

The capitalists and fascos work by stressing us, clamming us up, and in the worst-case scenario, even winding us up against each other. With our defensive intranet technologies such as the Chinese wall security suite and the bio-thicket, we must hold against that. Gennadi Grudinov’s speech to the white armies in the wake of the world revolution of 2021 was an early example of how to use the intranet as a defensive technology. Upon hearing his speech urging the mercs to remember their roots in the people, most of them simply dropped their weapons and went home to tell their loved ones about it. We picked up the arms, recycled them, put one or two specimen of each into a museum or lab for educational and research purposes. And the rest is history. This was possible because people had realised their interdependence and that when killing each other or animals, or plants, they are actually killing themselves.

And you know, when we travel to Palestine, it should not only be Natalie and me, and maybe comrade uncle Saïd as a protector. It should be a whole flotilla, like the Sumud flotilla that ran out to bring things to the Gazans whom the Zionist aggressors were starving, remember?”

He would remember this little speech for a long time. It was New Year’s eve of Year 19-20, they were standing on Aimeran’s central square, setting up the village fireworks. Nowadays not every household does its own fireworks for itself like under capitalism, filling the cash registers of the capitalists and polluting the air. The village assembly forms a spontaneous militia brigade that will order the stars, colours, salts and or fuel, pellets and or mortars from a specialised workshop. For free, of course, as part of the economic circuit that links production workers and users of any good in a region and all over the world. This New Year of Year 20 motive was hammer and sickle in all imaginable colours in honour of the Soviet experience.

His papa and maman, Jean and Mina, nodded and looked encouragingly at their son. “You know, a whole flotilla with people on it with experience on mixed brigades. For instance, brigades consisting of people of different faiths, like the Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland. Then comrade Pierre le Gars, or Peter Gar as he is called in English could join us as well. We could bring many brigades consisting of different races, such as mixed American Indian-farmer brigades from the prairies on canoes. Then Mazanape and the other Sioux could come. We could have a ship with revolutionary deconstruction brigades from  America, which consist of whites, including Jews and Hispanics, Blacks, Asians, Transracers, what not. We can bring mixed gender brigades, like the LBGHTQIA brigades we have at school and that comrade Cato is an expert on. You see, they are tricky because to respect everyone they would have to include eight members each, one more than the workable maximum. And there could be mixed harp – human, animal, robot, plant brigades and haproid – human, animal, plant, robot, dinosaur brigades from all regions and continents. The haproid ones include dinosaurs and other animals that have travelled from the past through the time tunnel to reach us. Young comrades Julie and Danièle have distinguished themselves introducing simple nature-speak and more elaborate nature language and harp and haproid brigades at school, university and other organisational, village and workplace assemblies. And we could say, look at all these mixed brigades that work in all sectors and everywhere in the world! Only here in Palestine and only where you Zionists are involved, they flop. How come?”

“You are right,” said comrade Frédéric, standing close to them. “But it could have to do with the internal workings of the brigade. Maybe it has nothing to do with Zionists or Intifada versus Antifada?” Although he was a renowned peace researcher, some comrades, such as Laurent, suspected him to be a bit of a Zionist.

“Could be. That it is why we are going to test our new lovebot method with an idea that we Illyrian Palestine brigade will be fully conversant with, namely the yellow transport rays or beams. Then there won’t be any snags in the content work of the brigade. We’ll be able to focus fully on how to get along with each other.”

1) From Golden to Yellow Rays: The Challenge of the low-energy Transport Beam

The  Palestine brigade taking leave from Illyria, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

The Illyrian Palestine brigade, from left to right on the picture, that is my buddy, comrade Natalie for the desert ecology aspect, me for the mixed brigade on yellow transport beams, my papa, comrade Jean, comrade Jean-Vladimir, expert on the triangle of cooperatives – Red Palestine, State of the Reconciliation, and Palestinian Refoundation, where he spends several weeks every year –, my uncle, comrade Saïd and his partner Rodion, mainly for security although they are computer, robot, and intranet experts as well, and young comrade Olivier, emerging expert on fasco terrorism.

Papa is not coming with us as my papa only. He is senior expert on both the scientific aspects of our research – he is a chemical engineer after all –, and the Palestinian question. “If I don’t know something,” he told me modestly. “I can ask either you or mamon, that is comrade Mina, or comrade Frédéric, senior peace researcher.” Yet maman told me he explained to her that he doesn’t want me to get stuck in the ‘Zionist equals fascism’ argument. “Your project is wider,” mamon continued. “It is actually a proposal on how to make mixed Palestinian-Jewish brigades work despite all of this, isn’t it?” “Of course,” I said. “And as you know, I have some ideas already.”

***

“In fact, already while we are on the Mediterranean ferry from Marseille to Tel-Aviv, we’ll listen to background presentations on topics we’ll need to know well in order to work smoothly with the mixed brigade on transport beams: I already mentioned the one by my older brothers Jean-Wadi and Maher on the bio-chemistry of the intranet. Before that even, comrade Josip will tell us about the physics behind it. These two parts you may already know. Yet then  I will come and give us the bio-chemistry for the yellow transport beam, the way it works at present and its capabilities, and how we want to develop it to become even more powerful and energy-efficient at the same time.”

“Do you think they will teach it in school then?” his younger brother, Little Zamir, 10 years old, asked longingly.

“I think so. And finally, comrade Jean-Vladimir will do a presentation on the bio-chemistry behind the weather sabotage Sam Bayer and the Krauts, as they were nick-named back then, did in Year 15.”

“I will just present it,” Jean-Vladimir interrupted again. “For most of the science I will have to rely on you.”

“Don’t worry,” Jean-Saïd grinned. “We are reliable, and without the eyewitness information from you and other residents in the triangle of cooperatives as well as scientists in Jerusalem and elsewhere in Palestina, we would not have been able to reach half of our conclusions.”

Physics of the Intranet

Physics of the Intranet, by comrades Josip and Rosa

“Salut, everybody, I am comrade Josip from Illyria, and I greet all of you on the Marseille-Yafo ferry and our comrades at Red Palestine, State of the Reconciliation, Palestinian Refoundation, and comrade Jean-Saïd’s brigade at the Red July lab at the Racah Institute of Physics at Jerusalem Tech. So, you know from physics that any elementary particle, such as an electron, an ion, or a neutron can be two things at the same time, a particle and a wave. And that means that we and everything else in this world are actually less solid and more wavy than we think. This, in short, is also the reason why even some non-live materials, water, rocks, stones, sediments, textiles, metals, glass, ceramics, and so on, can also transport the intranet as natural bio-wifi towers. And moreover, it is also how our yellow transport beams function. Comrade Jean-Saïd will come back to that later. Yet let us focus on the intranet first:

Remember from physics that elementary particles are actually minuscule electrical charges, which can be negative, positive, or neutral.  They are stabilised in atoms, and atoms in molecules, but only temporarily. The tree or bird outside your window will not receive this presentation as a heavy document, but just as a wave or waves of these charges where the wavelength determines the recipient or recipients of the message and its frequency the content.

The capitalists, by the way, knew about neural waves and the way our brains and bodies used to transport even very complicated data and had a whole taxonomy of them:

Taxonomy of intranet, bio-wifi waves, Source: Aurora search

Or another way of explaining it is, delta waves (0.4-3 Hz, mind you simple Hz, not Giga-, that is billions of Hz like under capitalist internet bombardment!) are for dreaming and love messages. Theta waves (3-8 Hz) are for interesting conversation and music, even our l’Huma bio-radio can be broadcast at that frequency. Alpha waves (8-12 Hz) are for l’Huma bio-TV, theatre or films, or transmission of assembly meetings. Beta waves (12-30 Hz) are for when it gets a bit more complicated, world-class movies, educational programmes and seminars. Finally, Gamma waves (from 30 to the maximum of 100 Hz) are for urgent news, complicated programme transfers, and scientific seminars.

Some researchers even hinted way back in the 20^th century that they may have found a healthier and cheap alternative to the internet. After all, with red intranet, green waves or bio-wifi, there is no need for devices, accessories such as monitors – your brain can open its virtual Aurora browser –, cables, wifi towers, and also no more scamming software monopolies, app producers, and cloud hosts. All you need is a bird flying by your window or a bush or tree standing there to get your message on the way. And quite naturally, without any inconvenience either to you or the carrier. Well, you will guess why they did not replace the internet before the world revolution. It would have meant the whole communication industry and most of the entertainment sector would have gone bankrupt immediately. Because it is the healthier technology by far, you wouldn’t have needed long delays in implementing red intranet, green waves, and bio-wifi. And an added problem would have been that they wouldn’t have been able to keep their sordid secrets. Any ant could have gossiped about them.

Bio-chemistry of the Intranet

Bio-chemistry of the Intranet, by Jean-Wadi and Maher

“Here, Maher and I can hop in,” Jean-Wadi took over at this point, “and explain to you about the way we work with bio-messages, which can be bio-audios, or -videos in our brains and translated into texts or symbols on our intranet phones. Before the revolution, capitalist education only told us about the way information gets processed in the brain. Neurotransmitters or neurons travel from synapse to synapse and get put through, blocked, or diverted as the case may be. The neurons are sometimes also called stimulants or peptides because they either pep you up or calm you down, depending on their function.

Main neurotransmitters and their functions

Oxytocin	Motherly and sexual behaviour
Glutamate	Forward action
Gaba	Restraint
Dopamine	Emotion
Serotonin	Mood

Source:  Revolupedia, Year 19-20 of the World Revolution, where 2021, Year of the World Revolution is Year Zero

However, and this the capitalist brain researchers would not tell you, the neurons not only move, but they also get altered at the same time. The capitalists would have liked to leave you in the belief that there is only one truth, and the fastest student will get it. If everybody believes that, nothing new will ever emerge. Who does not think like the rest of the crowd, will feel dumb, and the capitalists will continue to earn money on selling their latest apps based on yesteryear’s conventions.

Basically, our brains have chemical procedures for treating data, similar to construction or cooking maybe, only with a lot more experimentation. Or think of our brain as a village assembly. Through spontaneous processes that often run  half- or only subconsciously, a little molecule, or an even smaller particle can join, or it can leave. Or it can say yes or no. Or it can be a band, or a whole crowd that acts and speaks. That way we provoke chemical reactions and as a result, thoughts, feelings, plans, and dreams that we did not even know we had a minute earlier.

With the red intranet and bio-wifi we can tap this whole reservoir of creativity in us and also in animals and plants, and it will be natural, harmless, and won’t cost us anything, least of all money, crypto or any of that schmuck.

“Nice!” said  Rodion. “I like that. But why all this hype about brain-apps then, and bio-videos and audios playing on our virtual Aurora browser?”

“Oh, that’s just a lot of bullox, so you know how to work your old intranet phone or your new plushbot,” Peter Gar piped up helpfully from Illyria.

“Plushbot, I know what it is, it is a device you can type on and read and watch videos and listen to music and store data, and it’s coated in plush or fluffy material with a certain topic,”  a young voice piped up intraline.

“Mine is a cactus, and his is a camel,” a second voice added.

“But what in hell is a phone?” the first voice continued calmly. Everybody burst out laughing.

“Just an old blower you needed to send bio-messages before the intranet,” Jean-Wadi explained. “And who are you?”

“He is M.J. and I am Y.J.,” the first voice explained. “Yitzhak Junior and Mahmoud Junior. We live in Red Palestine. We are only 10, that’s why we don’t know about phones yet.”

“I am also 10,” Zamir tuned in excitedly from Illyria. “I am the one who took them apart. Do you know we abolished the laptop and invented the plushbot to save us from the metalmongers?”

“Yes,” said M.J. “I know what a laptop is, it is a heavy plushbot with metal or plastic coating. And I know what a metalmonger is. They crave metal. Lots of Zionists used to be metalmongers.”

“Zamir is my little brother,” said Jean-Saïd. “Be careful, Y.J. and M.J., he knows everything.”

“I am glad you made friends,” said Jean.

“Of course, you are right, Pierre le Gars,” said Jean-Wadi. “It’s bullox. But it sometimes helps us understand the interface between our brains and the old-fashioned devices.”

Rodion nodded. “Of course! We did not mean to be contrary.”

“The real wonder is that we, animals, and plants, even dinosaurs, and robots and other devices can communicate directly in the same language, simple nature-speak and even more sophisticated nature language, which you can learn or get translations for on the bio-web,” said Jean-Wadi. “And this just using the natural physics and bio-chemistry of our brains or cell nuclei.”

“Well, this is where the brain apps come in, don’t they?” asked Patrick. “How will you get the translations if not by an app?”

“Either because you have mastered nature-speak and nature language, although you learn to understand sounds and tonality rather than words and sentences. Or you can get it as a bio-message from somebody who has, your teacher or an interpreter. In computer terminology, if you use the interpreter often, this faculty will be installed in your brain as a brain-app, just as you can recall any other lesson, the tune of a song, the basic questions for a hierarchy or a material check or for launching a survey. Or in bio-chemistry language, your brain will have developed the connections and the chemical reactions that will enable the process to run again and again.”

“Earlier you talked about brain processes as something quite anarchical,” asked Alain. “Then I wonder how we are even able to send bio-messages, which after all require a lot of focus to determine the recipient or recipients? And then to determine the content, we need to regulate our intensity of emotion so as to get the right frequency. That also sounds complicated.”

“But you used the keyword,” said Jean-Wadi. “Feelings! Emotions! You know it yourself. You can hit the right spot anytime, if the feeling is right.”

“Maybe I am just free associating,” wondered Natalie. “But is it there that the lovebots come in? They are for devices, computers, robots, etc., aren’t they? But in the beginning you said, comrade Jean-Saïd, that you wanted to carry the lovebots to Palestine.”

“Yes, as you can see from the table, there are at least three basic neurons, oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin, which have to do with emotions and feelings. They function just like lovebots.”

“We used them as models for our computer lovebots and our nanobots can carry them!” interjected Josip.

“Yes, they are complicated molecules as it is, and then our brains can still modify them,” continued Jean-Saïd. “So, if you have heard enough about the physics and bio-chemistry of the intranet, we can pass over to the yellow beams then and return to the lovebots later, shall we?”

“Of course!” said Natalie. “We can’t wait!”

Frontiers of Yellow Beam Research

Frontiers of Yellow Beam Research, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

“What the intranet is to the internet, our yellow beams are to their counter-revolutionary golden beams. By the way, they picked the name golden beam before we said yellow beam. Yet as a matter of fact, our yellow beams, once we have fully mastered them, will be a lot more valuable than their golden beams. In fact, they are based on neural waves just like the green waves of the revolutionary intranet, so they require just willpower and intensity of feeling to get us anywhere. They are also similar to the red self-defence beams which can stun an aggressor for half an hour until spontaneous militia come, and the bronze beams that can stop an attacking vehicle or intercept an air plane or drone, and which can also be summoned by willpower and intensity of feeling only. Time travel tunnels as well, but those are complicated rays that we better leave for another time. Let’s focus on the yellow beams first!

As you know you can travel via yellow beam by summoning the yellow beam, telling it where to go, wishing yourself to disassemble into molecular state, then hopping on the yellow beam, then reassembling at the other end, hopping of the yellow beam, and ending up where you want to be in split seconds, hours at most.

The problem is, we have not fully mastered it yet. The first two obvious questions are, what do you need a beam for, why don’t you just disassemble and go?  Second question, why do you even have to disassemble, why can’t you just fly like superman?

The reason in both cases is the energy intensity. To see that, compare it with their capitalist-fasco golden beam for a moment.  Don’t worry, at this stage of their decline, it is a very precarious proposition as well. They have to order a golden beam from some clandestine lab. It will be powered by a conventional high voltage beam, you can travel on it intact, without disassembling, and even take some baggage. However, the golden beam uses an enormous amount of energy. There are rumours that the crypto-capitalists operate nuclear facilities in North America, Siberia, Australia – there may be some in Palestine even –, just to have the energy ready if one of them wants to take a flying jump as it were.

“Well, then the nightmare will soon be over, won’t it?” sighed Frédéric. “How do they want to get energy from their nuclear plant in Australia for someone to travel around Africa, let’s say?”

“Well, you see, they might have some in Palestine!” said Jean-Saïd, provoking giggles from Jean-Vladimir who appreciated his comrade’s patience. “I did not mean to be cheeky, comrade Frédéric!” Jean-Saïd continued unphased. “It’s complicated technology. It may even have an intranet component. They, or more precisely, not they themselves, but their sponsors must wish to get the energy from the energy plant to the location of the traveller or travellers and them to their final destination.

“Remember, when the fascos were attacking via drone in Lebanon and Gaza, we did the stunt of using yellow beam to meet their drones. Then we used yellow beam again to jump from drone to drone as they were attacking, but backward in the direction they were coming from until we landed in the desert quite close to their launching pad, actually quite close to the triangle of cooperatives. We were able to bring down some drones with red and bronze beams, the triangle of coops was able to bring down some more. We gave chase to some fasco mercs leaving the launch pad and caught them. Finally, we were able to confiscate a phone naming dates when ships from Ukraine  would arrive with weapons as well as address books with several of their production sites that we could then seize, dismantle, and reconvert to peaceful, self-managed workshops.”

“I remember this act of reckless bravery for which the three of you,” Jean meant Jean-Wadi, Jean-Vladimir, and Jean-Saïd, “should have been grounded until this day.”

“We were not alone. There was also Abdul from Syria, Adjip from India, Liubko and Volya from Ukraine,  and Enzokuhle from South Africa…,” Jean-Vladimir apologised sheepishly.

“You are right, papa, that particular action was a bit brazen,” admitted Jean-Saïd. “Yet we succeeded, but the vexing thing was that just like the fascos we needed support beams from University of Beirut physics department energy lab, not nuclear energy-based mind you, just high energy beams to support our willpower.”

“And you also had to disassemble?” asked  Alain.

“Yes, we did,” said Jean-Saïd. “That tells you that the technology is not yet up to standard.”

“Look!” said Pierre le Gars. “I am glad you gave them a good beating, and what makes me even happier is that you don’t really seem to want to recommend your invention for use on a daily basis either, or do you? Will we have to disassemble-reassemble every time we need to go to Paris?”

“Well, yes, maybe in the distant future, when Paris will just be an agglomeration of villages and we Illyrians live in tree houses. There won’t be any train line Paris-Chartres any longer. However, we may want to visit the comrades of neighbourhood assembly Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove in Saint-Denis who may be living in tree houses as well. Yet of course, we will have to have mastered the energy problem by then. The disassembly-reassembly bit is quite stressful, I agree. I remember, we were cowering on the roof of the Beirut University physics lab waiting for the drones to appear, because only then could we summon the yellow beam, disassemble and hop on. Young comrade Adjip was shivering next to me, and not only from the night cold, and muttering: “I have a case of nerves! I have a case of nerves!”  And  the same when reassembling!  You have to start while still on the beam, because if you stay disassembled for too long, you risk staying decomposed for a long time. It’s  really quite stressful!”

“We tried it when we were in China!” comrade Hélène remembered. “Only over a short distance! It’s very scary!  There is a moment, you might call it point zero, where you feel completely nil. Otherwise, Mina and I would be there already to keep you company!”

“D’accord, but there are several directions of research that may help us. We must improve our focus so as to give us the necessary strength to summon the wave, and to manage the disassembly-reassembly without that much fear. That requires working with our brain chemistry, and that is where the neurons or biochemical lovebots might help us.  Comrades Jean-Wadi and Maher will be with us, comrade Josip will be on stand-by, and then there are our comrades at the Red July lab at Racah. Comrades, are you there?”

“Yes, we called the whole lab Red July after the month of July when the world revolution 2021 broke out in earnest to signal that we want to be a social laboratory for the revolution as well as a scientific one. The brigade is just called ‘Transport Beam’.  My name is Yassir, I am today’s brigadier, call me Yassir-Transport Beam, because I know you’ve got a friend Yassir-Red Palestine. Then we have two more Palestinian members, Rafiq and Ihsan, and three Jewish members Alon, Boaz and Ruth.  Boaz and Ruth are buddies, but she has a thing with Rafiq!” noted Yassir.  All six of them laughed.

“Don’t believe him!” shouted Boaz, pretending to be angry. “He is just trying to make things easier.”

“And you, comrade Jean-Saïd, you are half-Jewish, half-Palestinian, aren’t you?”

“No, well, yes, my mother is Palestinian, my papa is a bit Jewish.” “Don’t worry, it is just for the quota, it means we are half-half. That’s a good mixture, isn’t it?”

“At Illyria, we produced a nanobot made of bio-tissue able to carry the five neurotransmitters in various mixtures,” said Jean-Saïd. “We have it in our luggage. What about you?”

“As agreed, we hooked up with the biochemical lab to get samples of their synthetic neurons. They don’t make them for physical engineers like us, obviously, but for medical uses to fight Parkinson’s, multiple sclerosis, Alzheimer’s and so on. However, it may be a beginning.” Yassir was speaking quickly, obviously trying to get at something else. “Listen, we are ready here, waiting for you, with love in our eyes just as you are lovebotted. Yet there is an issue. There is a persistent rumour. Comrade Alon will tell us about it!”

“Yes, the Krauts, eh, the Germans may be back! You know, Pappberger and consorts, who organised the bombing of Damaskus, Beirut, Gaza, and so on in Winter of Year 18-19? Have you heard anything about that?”

Latest Plans of the Kraut Brigade

Latest Plans of the Kraut Brigade, by  Jean-Vladimir and Adilah

“Yes, we did as a matter of  fact. Pappberger and consorts have been tried in Chechnia for animal genocide and other crimes. However, there needs to be another village assembly decision. Should they keep these villains in life-long imprisonment and even rehabilitate them or rather throw them into the Kazbegi volcano immediately? Yet that volcano would have to be reactivated for them!

“Back in Year 15,” explained Jean-Vladimir, “we were already facing a First Kraut Brigade, consisting of Hans Liedel, Dieter Flix, Jürgen Ackermann, Markus Nah, and Ian Fern with Sam Bayer as the unofficial leader. Bayer had tried straightforward nuclear blackmail. In other words, he threatened to explode a nuclear device unless the Israeli state got restored together with its capitalist basis. He did not convince the people. In fact, once militia intercepted some phone calls of his, revealing his location, he immediately had a mass rally of peace activists at the door, Palestinian and Jewish mixed. And this even while he was hunting around for people willing to serve in his government. He had already launched the chain reaction. Yet some young activists, his own son, comrade Jason, and also comrades Aaron and Josh among them, blew the whistle early enough and prevented it from completing by shooting a connecting cable off with an EMR gun just in the nick of time. Anyway, even back then already, five years ago, the fascos needed a natural catastrophe to wind up Palestinians and Jews against each other to the extent that they would shoot at each other with Disenriched Uranium.”

“There was a moment in 2021 when most Jews in Palestine had joined the Intifada. That can be considered the moment of victory of the world revolution in Palestine, and not only there!” said Youssef.

“That’s it!” said Jean-Saïd. “That’s when the capitalists and fascos became the main enemy, not either Jews or Palestinians. You’ll tell us about it later, won’t you?” Youssef nodded: “Just two presentations down the line!”

“We learnt back then that they use basically two ways to stop it from raining,” Jean-Vladimir continued unphased. “The first method was to artificially create a storm over the Mediterranean. That way the rain clouds would empty before they even reached the shore. The second was to de-hydrate clouds by withdrawing H₂O, often through the condensation of two molecules. To both ends they sprayed acidic catalysts, in particular sulfuric acid (H₂SO₄) and so-called zeolites, consisting of silicon, aluminium, and oxygen in various molecular configurations. Before the revolution, the capitalists had found how they could improve the weather at their meetings or for large outdoor sports events or concerts. They could spray these and similar substances near the event sites and make clouds rain off or diffuse. They had plans for weather warfare between nations as well, but the revolution had prevented these. Now, after the revolution, they were using this weather engineering to provoke civil strife in Palestine. We fear that they might try something similar again, because otherwise, why did Arnim Pappberger and consorts, meaning Lars Killingbeil, Fritz Merz, and Boris Pistazius meet intraline with Sam Bayer  in prison in the French lands, of all people? And why did they contact the Elders?”

“How come the Chechens allowed it?”

“We got the news too late,” comrade Ramzan replied intraline from Uyutnoe. “We heard about it from a bezoar, a wild mountain goat, who told it to a red-breasted goose, who told it to a lark, who told it to a grass snake, who told it to a lynx, who told it to a brown bear, member of a bear family close to us. Please understand, it was a very long bio-wifi transmission. And you, how did you learn about it?”

“Well, comrade Benzion, he is now at Palestinian Refoundation, he does a bit of spying at the Zionists still underground to find out whether they have anything up their sleeves. He surmises that they do this time, and that it will be some kind of spraying again. However, it may not be weather terrorism and not aimed at getting Palestinians and Jews to shoot at each other with DU, but rather another attempt at blocking the intranet and especially the yellow transport beam – they seem to have the two mixed up –, and…, you wouldn’t believe it, stopping the spread of the lovebots. Apparently, they have received some intel that this is our plan to make peace in Palestine.”

2) Welcome to our Triangle of Cooperatives

The triangle of cooperatives, Palestinian Refoundation, Reconciliation, and Red Palestine, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

At the Red Palestine cooperative

The Red Palestine cooperative in January of Year 20, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

These days, our cooperative Red Palestine consists  of 14 houses around a lawn, with Palestinian and Jewish families alternating – seven Palestinian and seven Jewish. Right now, it is only me, Yitzhak, Yassir, and Abdallah welcoming  you. The others are out working in the fields and on the pastures. However, we have a harp assembly coming up tonight.”

“Then your Illyrian brothers and sisters can attend as well intraline,” added comrade Yassir, who sensed their disappointment.

“Will M.J. and Y.J. also be there?” comrade Zamir immediately tuned in from Illyria.

“Yes, of course. And comrades Josh and Jason will be able to tell you about our metal-recycling programme, and about our troubles deconstructing their old DU gun workshop close by. You know that Josh and Jason are deconstruction-reconstruction experts who divide their time between the U.S. and Palestine. As a matter of fact, the DU gun workshop as well as the drone launching station we were able to stop two years ago with your help are on the way to Reconciliation. Watch out for them tomorrow when you go there!”

***

Yet in the evening, the report on deconstructing the nuclear ruins had to yield to even more pressing new. “D’accord, now that we have all had something to eat, we can play you the latest fasco bio-audio-bio-video. Imagine, it even has some video segments, blurry but still!  Comrades Enrico and Marcello got it from their cat Lenino, who got it from a Napolitan dove, who joked it was originally from some marble panel on the Neonazi yacht. You know, transmission by non-live intranet participants. The Italian comrades already wanted to upload it on the bio-web. Yet we managed to convince them to keep it as confidential as possible at least for a while still until our spontaneous militia are ready to pounce, probably once the fascos arrive in Yafo . Listen and watch for yourselves!

“O.k., now we have until our arrival in Tel Aviv, 7-10 days from now to map out strategy…” That had to be the moderator. Let’s see whether they bother to rotate them every hour as per revolutionary rules, thought Jean-Saïd. If not, even more work for papa, and comrades Zelim, Melanie, Murielle and the other rehabilitation workers. “By the way, my name is Elke Hardlife. My brother Andrew and I run the plastics and synthetic plush and fluff workshop for the flushbots. Of course, to take the wind out of their sails, as in ‘You are exploiting the poor Chinese proletariat and forcing them to produce outlawed synthetics.’ Andrew and me are hiring German and other workers in the German lands… You can tell Alice Wedel was a friend of mine… to do this job cheerfully against crypto-mark or -Euro, whatever you bankers end up printing.”

“Imagine, if it wasn’t for their silly revolution, we would already have landed in the  Holy Land, maybe in a Rheinmetall jet even. You guessed it, I am Klaus Newman, I  represent Arnim Pappberger, still languishing in Chechen prison together with our friends Fritz Merz, Lars Killingbeil, and Boris Pistazius. Yet we have a plan to get them out. I might as well tell you right now. You know, the Commies have a dispute running whether to try to rehabilitate them or to throw them into the Georgian Kazbegi volcano immediately. Yet for the latter option they need to rekindle the Kazbegi volcano first. And so, you know what our two geniuses, Arnim and Lars have come up with? We sell them the tech, explosives that can even smash through granite and basalt, as in Lenin’s ‘They will sell us the  rope to hang them on!’ That will speed up the relaunching of the Kazbegi. Vera Langsaal is working on it at home in Dusseldorf. And then we, or rather our people on location, will still be there to get our friends out before it’s too late. As for Palestine, Vera and the others are also working on some other goodies to get these Palestinian Commies with.”

“You can leave that to us,” roared the next speaker. “I am Reinhart Fischer, and we make synthetic neurotransmitters to top theirs.”

“I am David Töter and we have several very nice things in the making: You know how the Commies are distributing one flushbot – beg your pardon, that is just shorthand for plush or fluffbot – and one life-size android or other animal, plant etc. robot to grow with their children and serve as their permanent AI companion. They call it grow-along harpoid, or something like that. Well, we will wreck them with hatebots so vicious that their beloved lovebots will wriggle in agony. In fact, they…”

“Don’t tell us everything yet, David! Waves have ears!” somebody interrupted him. “They’ve already found out that we want to spray again although they don’t know the details yet, so I can brag. I am Fritz Schneid from Schnitter Inc., we are good buddies of Arnim’s and Vera’s. We make the weather sprays, as well as other good lethal stuff like insecticides, pesticides, and deadly fertiliser. The spray we are about to use in Palestine is designed to stop both their intranet and their yellow beams from working.”

“Hi, I am Tino Kryptolla,” a jovial voice came on next, even with a picture, “You will have guessed it. I am KfW, and I have best relations to Rob, Mort, Jim, Ron, and the other ex-U.S. bankers as well. Jim and Ron have just a launched a new pension fund that you are all invited to invest in.”

“And now to you politicians,” Elke Hardlife took over as moderator.

“Well, not much to say at this stage. I am Wolf Scheuble and I am here to represent Fritz Merz.”

“And I am Dorian Kopf and this is Julian Redswan. We are here not only to represent Boris and Lars, but we are also trained fighters and stealth experts. We are your dedicated counter-revolutionary security. With us, you black swans will be able to f.u.c.k. the cops and swim away.”

“I’ll help you!” promised Toter.

At the Reconciliation Cooperative

At the Reconciliation Cooperative, by Olivier and Danièle

At Reconciliation, almost the whole village had taken a break to greet them. “We have only seven houses but larger than those at the two other cooperatives in the triangle. Each of them houses two families easily. So, we now make sure that in every house there is one Palestinian and one Jewish family paired at all times,” explained comrade David.  “By the way, to my right is my father Moshe and my wife Golda, and to my left, comrade Khaled, who was the first Palestinian to move in here when we went mixed.”

“You seem to have fewer animals than Red Palestine,” Olivier noted drily. “And your cows are mostly white. Is there a reason for that?”

“Oh, no,” said comrade Basil. “The other cows and the sheep are further out on the pastures. It’s a mild day, considering it’s winter, 15 degrees. We kept the white ones close to the village for you to remember the apartheid that used to reign here, you are right.”

“But we are as well off as Red Palestine,” added comrade Ben. “Don’t worry. Let me quickly introduce you a few other comrades. Khaled and Basil, you’ve already met. This is Adnan, that means settler in Arabic, so we joke with him, ‘Are you really a good revolutionary, or are you a settler?’  Here is Abba, this is Qasim, here is Natan, this is Salah, here is Tobiah, and this is Nasir, here is Joel. They are all only representing their households of course, which count about seven on average: grandpa and grandma, sometimes two couples, parents, and kids. So far, we have no trouble giving every child a good revolutionary purpose. It is the countryside, after all, plenty of work for everyone.

“And Palestinian Refoundation where we’ll go tomorrow is the most well-to-do of the three now. And all three coops are thoroughly mixed, don’t worry.

“But now, let’s go visit the cooperative, d’accord?”

***

In the evening, after a good meal, it was time to plan counter-strategy. “No need to play you the rest of the tape,” comrade Tobiah explained. “It gets increasingly garbled. They got drunk and drugged, which was our good luck, because otherwise they might have suspected that we were intercepting them and talked more carefully.”

“Let us go through their whole strategy point by point,” Jean-Saïd suggested, “starting with the spraying. As we thought, there will be another spraying attack, but this time specifically in the area of the triangle of cooperatives so as to thwart our transport beam trials. The mixture of sulfuric acid and zeolites, that is compounds of silicon, aluminium, and oxygen is going to de-hydrate the air as it did in Year 15, and that will make it harder for us to disassemble and  especially to reassemble. That way they hope to sap our morale and make the Transport Beam brigade members fight.”

“Not only that,” added comrade Qasim, “they also have another idea they hinted at. They think they have found a way to make you paranoid and fight amongst each other even before their spraying in the desert.”

“Well, merci, now that we know that’s their aim, we just won’t. It’s as simple as that!” said Jean-Saïd. “Let me just quickly invite the comrades in so they can participate in this segment as well.” While the six other transport beamers came intraline, the Reconciliation cooperative members continued chatting.

“It’s the same pathetic attempts at disrupting the reconciliation as they made in Year 15,” said comrade David-Reconciliation. “Mind you, they are scaling down their aims. Back then they orchestrated the water shortage so as to make Palestinians and Jews shoot at one another with DU guns that the fascis had sold to both sides, remember that. This time it is just to thwart one brigade’s work.”

“And to protect their golden beam!” supplemented his father, comrade Moshe. “For Jean-Saïd and his comrades it would be very painful to get their work wrecked this way.”

“Well, how can we prevent that from happening?”  asked comrade Khaled.

“Well, for one thing, we have to prevent their getting airplanes!” suggested  comrade Yitzhak-Red Palestine, speaking intraline. “Remember how they terrorised poor Leo Goldwing?” Leo Goldwing had been an airline producer under capitalism. Yet he had decided to hold back with his production until we revolutionaries had fully developed our small, wind- and solar-propelled airplane.  Then he restricted the use of his fleet to rescue and emergency as well as educational flight just like the revolution did. The first Kraut brigade stole his airplanes, almost gave him a heart attack, and blemished his name.

“The chemicals, they want to test their own chemicals. We have to prevent them from getting a lab and starting to produce them!” warned Yassir-transport beamer.

“Hopefully, they don’t want to make some kind of virus!” said Ruth. “They did Covet after all!”

“Probably, this Toter wants to make nanobots as well,” added Ihsan.

“What about their hatebots wrecking our new plushbots and  grow-up-with-you harpoids?” asked Jean-Saïd. “I don’t like the way they call them flushbots. And I wonder, do they plan to do that world-wide, because then… Wait a minute I invite comrade Petit Pierre from the garden colony. He is already our age, 17-18, we just call him ‘petit’ because he is rather small and to distinguish him from Pierre le Gars and the other Pierre, senior energy engineer,” he explained to the Palestine comrades.

“We should immediately get a quorum and form a spontaneous militia brigade to investigate,” said Petit Pierre who had already come intraline, shaking from anger and excitement. “Mamon,” comrade Bérénice, “says what you say, these Boches never give up.”

“I wonder, do these Neonazis cooperate with the Uberytes?” said Boaz. “Because then they probably want to resuscitate logistics stations, night-clubs, violent sports clubs, and private policlinics as well.”

“And print crypto!” concluded Rafiq. “After all, that is what it is always about for those capitalists.”

“About their Kazbegi plan, they have already approached our engineers,” reported comrade Bulat from Uyutnoe, he was the one with the most Georgian connections, “and they have of course pretended to be interested. The fascos told them they could order the explosives on credit and then repay this credit later, by working on some another project. They did not tell them of course that they want them to help with the escape of Arnim Pappberger and Co.”

“Anyway, the present status was reported to our villains in prison, and they were happy, here, this bio-video-clip shows them smiling broadly. And what is Fritz, le Merc muttering there? ‘So, the midnight express stops here in Groznyi anyway!’ He must be high on something. Comrade Zelim, did you leave him a stash before you left?” Comrade Zelim had tried to de-brief Pappberger and Co. just as he had successful begun the rehabilitation of the twelve major Russian underground capitalists and oligarchs known as the Big Animals.

“Buffalos**t, comrade Zelim wouldn’t do that!” comrade Aslan interjected for the record.

“I don’t quite remember,” Zelim joked. It had been a fortnight at most since the Illyrian Chechen brigade had left Chechnia and he, native Chechen that he was, felt homesick already. “But he would have smoked it already.”

At Palestinian Refoundation

At Palestinian Refoundation, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

At Palestinian Refoundation, just like at Red Palestine and State of the Reconciliation, they got the big tour of the whole cooperative, including outlaying pastures and fields.

“Remember that both Reconciliation and Refoundation had to be relocated because of the DU production workshops that had contaminated both villages,” explained comrade Mahmoud as he guided them around. “That is why both cooperatives now have more or less the same look. The houses in State of the Reconciliation are still a bit bigger, two family-houses, ours are just for one family, but we alternate between Palestinian and Jewish families, so that everyone always has at least one direct neighbour of the other group.

“Ina and I were the first Jews to move in here,” explained comrade Benzion in the evening, “and it wasn’t easy, not only because Palestinian Refoundation was even more radically anti-Zionist than Red Palestine…”

“Oh, no,” said Yassir. “We were just as anti-Zionist, we were more decidedly pro-mixed brigade than you were, but you realised that we were right, if only for the greater transparency that mixed brigades create.”

“Well, yes, but it was difficult also because I had worked with the Elders and had even been on loan to the Ukrainian capexogarchs…”

“Capexogarchs?” asked M.J. from Red Palestine.

“Capitalists and ex-oligarchs. It’s a dinosaur term, not because it’s old-fashioned, but because our friends, the time-travelling African dinosaurs who immediately took an interests in our present-day affairs, called the First Kraut brigade by that name.”

“The First Kraut brigade also acted in Africa?” asked Y.J.

“Oh, yes,” Jean-Vladimir sighed. “That’s where they fled once we had stopped their DU plan. To our great chagrin, they popped up right in the midst of comrades Adilah’s and Zafira’s ecological research in Djibouti and on Lake Chad. If it hadn’t be for them, the model cooperatives named after Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela would have been founded a lot earlier.”

“Oh, their founders were Christians?” said Jibril. “It was probably also because of these names that it took a while.”

“No, no, we picked those, because their bearers, Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela, acted like good Communists all their lives,” explained Adilah, and thinking of comrades Nelson and Dulcie. “They have lots of good comrades named after them in South Africa as well. Anyway, come intraline, when our senior comrades, Omsinbaba, Noah, and Seth will go back there later this year. Our comrades there are all good Muslims. And they are good internationalists at the same time.”

“Another question to you, comrade Benzion. These Elders,” asked Rodion. “Do they or did they at any point pay crypto?”

“Never,” Ina shook her head. “I also worked with them for a while, and we all did it only because of our faith in Jewish religion. However, when they lent you out to oligarchs, then you had to accept crypto.”

“You make it sound like a sin!” comrade Moshe said intraline from Reconciliation.

“That’s because it is!” Benzion nodded to himself. “As soon as we noticed that about them we left.”

“We should talk to them anyway,” decided Jean. “They have kept in touch with the various generations of underground capitalists, even with the Krauts. We are sure to find out more about their plans.”

Just then, comrade Salah came running over from a neighbouring field. “Come quick, comrades! A couple of drones have force-landed. Out of energy maybe, or maybe some human comrades or friendly animals and plants have downed them with bronze beams. You know that even animals and plants can use bronze beams once we explain and show them the principles in harp assembly.”

***

The last night before the Illyrian brigade left the triangle of cooperatives for Jerusalem, they had the great joy to assist at the welcome for eight visitors especially the young Illyrian comrades knew very well from previous common adventures: Adjip and Okuhle, Abdul and Maggie, Enzokuhle and Jahida, and last but not least, Volya, Liubko, and Siobhan, all of them originally from  7-8 Robin’s Lane, Leitir Ceanainn, Ireland, comrade Peter Gar’s and Carla’s long-time home village. They and other Buffalitis victims had left Ireland during Covet-19.

The nine young comrades had emigrated much later, already in the revolution, but for very similar reasons, during the Lymphatic Encephalitic Pulmonary, short LEP syndrome. It was also known as Asymptomatic Leprechaunitis, because in a first phase, the fever from this flu gave people pleasant hallucinations about leprechauns, Irish magic dwarfs. However, in a second, more malignant stage, these halloos could shade into a full-blown paranoid psychosis. Just as Covet-19, LEP-AL had been spread by the fascos so as to sell vaccines against these variants of the seasonal flu.

Jahida and Enzokuhle and Abdul and Maggie now lived, studied, and worked in Damaskus, also a busily deconstructing-reconstructing agglo, Abdul assured them. “We reconverted all office buildings to apartments, obviously. After all, in the wake of our revolution, no more bureaucracies, neither governmental nor corporate. We are reducing all tall apartment buildings to no more than 5 floors above ground level, anything above that being unhealthy for humans to live in.  We have pulled up all tarmac and concrete and are strewing in parks and fields in between the quarters becoming villages again, none with more than 600 inhabitants. Although we were thrown back of course by the havoc the American and German capitalists and Zionists caused with their drone attacks in Year 19.”

Okuhle, Enzokuhle’s little sister, and her Indian partner Adjip lived in South Africa, where Jahida and Enzokuhle also spent their holidays with Enzokuhle’s and Okuhle’s parents.  The four of them had also spent time at the Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela coops. Finally, Volya, Siobhan, and Liubko were now at home in Kharkov, in the Russian-Ukrainian lands, where they lived with Volya’s and Liubko’s mothers, Liuba and Oksana. For the last couple of years, however, they had been studying physics, computer science, robotics, agronomy, economics and ecology in the Russian lands.

“So, they want to give you paranoia, and you don’t even know what it is about?” Volya joked already as they walked in. “Ever considered that they want to give you AL or some Year 20 variant of it?” “Merde,” said Jean-Saïd and tapped his head with his hand. “That could be it. Merci, comrade Volya. Are we vaxed? Where are our crypto-accounts to pay for the medication?”

“Could it have to do with the synthetic neurons this Reinhard Fisher is developing?” was Siobhan’s idea.

“And the robots this David, what’s his name, Toter is working on!” added Liubko.

“The spraying is not only about the yellow beams,” said Enzokuhle. “I bet they want to ruin your harvest as well. The colonialists did it in Africa so many times.”

“In the Middle East as well!” sighed Abdul. “We’ve got them. They are having another major go at it. Just as in Year 18.” He clenched his fists. “These bastards will never give up!”

Indeed, next day, the news was bad. The Illyrian brigade was already in Jerusalem. Jean-Saïd was having the first meeting of the transport brigade, and the other six were visiting the old town, sticking together of course and mindful of their security. “And this is the square where the fascos instigated the DU skirmish in Year 15,” Jean-Vladimir was just explaining. “That is why they still have the radiation gauge hanging here on the stele in the middle to remind people.”

All of a sudden, the whole square was buzzing with excitement. “They’ve got them! They’ve got them! They were trying to enter through Tel Aviv harbour. Ten German Zionists!” a Palestinian share point holder shouted across the square to his Jewish friend, a baker. “You mean Krauts!” the baker answered, and then a minute later it sounded from both sides: “Oh, no!”

“What’s wrong?” comrade Saïd asked the share point holder, as they were standing closer to his shop.

“They weren’t real. They turned out to be robots, humanoid you know, similar to our new revolutionary grow-up-with-you harpoids, with skin like real skin and wearing fluffy clothes. From the description they had of them, the spontaneous custom’s brigade thought they had them, they were talking English with a German accent and everything, but when they frisked them, they turned out to be just robots. The real ones must have gotten past control in another disguise.”

3) “Did you hear that?”

You are all insane, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

“You are all insane!”

“Don’t you find it loud here?” said Jean-Saïd.

“That’s outrageous! No, we did not plagiarise it!” shouted Rafiq angrily.

“I just did an intranet check. It was an old pre-revolutionary website. I noted it down. Where did I note it down? Oh, yeah, look, here it is,” Boaz tried to calm him down.

“Ah, you say you are hearing voices. I’ve got a good clinic for you. Don’t worry, it is not the ordinary Polykill!”

“Did you hear that? Who was that?” asked Jean-Saïd.

“That comes through the air. We hear him all the time!”

“He sounds German, doesn’t he?” asked Yassir.

“Let’s just call him, The Nazi who won’t phase us!” suggested Alon.

“They are trying to make you mad, paranoid or something,” Olivier spoke up intraline. “But we can hear it as well, so it’s not your imagination or anything.”

“And they can do it with a whole group as well, like our brigade, or people in a queue, or at a rally…,” Boaz read out his notes. “And if you have agents in the room or part of the group, they can play-act to upset the others even more. Just by being loud. Police used it even before the revolution. They can also use these methods to make spies talk!”

“And how did they do it this time?”

“I think they turned up the volume of everything in the lab, the radiator, the fridge, even the water kettle, the radio, the sounds from outside,” Alon explained. “And in the case of the latter two, they may even have covered them with other content. Instead of ‘To Jenin’, they may put ‘To Berlin’. And then they would send a massive hate message. I mean, you can deal with a stun beam. That’s physical. Our red revolutionary stun beam for instance makes you unconscious for about half an hour until spontaneous militia come and arrest you. Their counter-revolutionary brown hate beam is more dangerous. Under certain conditions, it can kill you. Yet we are not talking about beams at the moment.

“It was something else. They turned up the background noises, to make us feel really nervous, then they sent a massive hate message. Any content will do, such as : ‘You have plagiarised it!’ ‘Have you fucked comrade Ruth well today?’ ‘You know she goes with that Rafiq!’ It doesn’t matter what it is, and least of all does it have to be true. It is just to wind you up. And bang, you explode. You shout at everybody: ‘You’ve always hated me!” and if it really gets you:  ‘And you know what: I’ve always hated you!’”

“D’accord, then there can be a fight, even a physical fight, but it need not be with the person who is causing the voices. The other is just a scapegoat who has done nothing really to deserve it. He, she or they may just have coughed, or he or she may have imitated somebody else or something from the radio, or his or her voice may have been covered with another, as I explained, but you think it is because he or she disapproves of you or wants to mock you. Yet, regardless of how that fight ends, the voices will come back and you will explode again!”

“So far, so good,” said Jean-Saïd. “We would have to identify the hate message, who sent it, what kind of wave it is.”

And immediately got an intraline message from comrade Colin from the garden colony. “Oh, comrade Jean-Saïd. Can my cousin Charolaine examine these hate waves as her University Entry Project?” And her chiming: “I want to be a physicist like comrade Colin!”

“Yes, of course,” Jean-Saïd was as happy as all Illyrians that all young comrades from the garden colony had now found their topics. “It would not be an ordinary intranet wave. That would not make you so sick…”

“Olivier, Jean, Rodion and I are on the way to Red July lab,” Saïd interrupted. “We’ll have to take the whole place apart, including all devices, even the fridge, the kettle, the radio, and the radiator. By the way, did any of you go to that policlinic?”

“No, I just had a dream about it,” said Ruth. “But it was one of those strange dreams, where everything seems real, almost like a pointer.”

“Would you find it, on the basis of the dream?” asked  Jean.

“I have been in the area before,” pondered Ruth. “If I came by it, I would recognise it. But I am not sure. Maybe it was just a dream after all!”

“And if we just ignored it?” begged Jean-Saïd. “I brought the lovebots, made of bio-tissue able to carry the five neurotransmitters in various mixtures. We could just examine them under the microscope, whether they are clean, see whether we can use them for our testing, whether they help us with the travel on the yellow beam.”

“Differentiating by stages maybe,” Yassir suggested, immediately interested.

“Definitely, first stage: summoning, second stage: disassembling, third stage: reassembling,” continued Boaz, taking notes, as seemed to be his habit.

“There may even be four stages,” proposed Alon. “In between disassembling and reassembling, holding nerve. Because almost everybody says they find the moment where you are completely disassembled quite disconcerting.”

“There is a crumbly feeling, as the body disintegrates, then it feels like you have lost your  body entirely,” said Ruth. “But at that point, if all goes well, you are already beginning to reassemble.”

“Mamon calls it point zero,” Jean-Saïd made another suggestion.

“I hypothesise the glutamate will help with overcoming that lost feeling,” said Ihsan. “Because it encourages forward motion, the oxytocin will help with the reassembly because it is about love and growing, and the dopamine will keep you happy while you disassemble. I don’t really see the function of the gaba and the serotonin though.”

“Gaba stands for restraint and Serotonin influences mood. So, they may help you if you ever have to reverse the process,” explained Jean-Saïd. “If they play a mean trick on us, for example.”

“Thank you, Jean-Saïd,” said Rafiq, “for being the voice of reason. But we need to do something about these voices. None of us think the way they suggest. Comrade Ruth does not fancy me, and comrade Boaz didn’t plagiarise.”

“I just collect things intraline and take notes,” said Boaz.

“Exactly, and we all appreciate that!” said Ihsan. “You are a great help to us.”

“You know, I am not reminded to my presentation on the conditions for peace,” said Laurent. “Back then we hypothesised that the conflict in Palestine, like many other conflicts, stems from jealousy about women, cattle, land, water, work, education, other goods and sources of wealth. But you members of the mixed brigade on transport beams seem not at all jealous of each other.”

“No reason to, we are Communists,” said Alon. “But that is the irritating thing. If these are not the voices of the dark recesses of our mind, what are they?”

“They come from outside!” said Yassir. “I am sure the enemy makes them.”

“When I was going for the Ph.D., I  was hearing voices as well,” comrade Michelle spoke up from Illyria. “They also said I had plagiarised. The voices suggested comrade Tracy. But Tracy was by far not as advanced in her work. If anything it was the other way around. Back then, I thought it was my advisors making the voices, Professor Whitmer especially, who hated me because I am a Communist and black, and that they wanted me out. I also suspected the police, secret services, and suchlike, because of my Communist affiliations. Does anybody at your institute hate you?”

“The Racah institute?” Rafiq laughed. “No, they all like us. They are proud that they are at the forefront of the mixed brigade model in scientific research. It works almost perfectly in farming, it is already rather far advanced in industrial and construction workshops, and in most social organisations. Yet there are some delays in science. We Palestinians have still felt disadvantaged. Lately, it has seemed we were bridging this lag.”

“But now this!” sighed Boaz. “Who in hell is making these voices?”

“Searching the lab would help us!” Saïd repeated.

“D’accord,” Jean-Saïd was increasingly distressed. “So, it seems comrade Saïd is right and we have to turn the whole place upside down. Yet that is going to throw us back in our work, and is this worth it? I mean we already know who has said that they wanted to thwart our research…”

“The Kraut brigade!” said Yassir.

“Exactly, so it’s probably them!” Alon seemed relieved. “I think, comrade Jean-Saïd has a point. We would probably make them very happy by stopping the whole  project and spending all our time and energy on ascertaining how they made us hear their nasty voices. We shouldn’t go for it, should we?”

“You can maybe combine the two endeavours,” suggested comrade Olivier. “Comrades Saïd, Rodion, and me and maybe the institute security do the investigation here, and the rest of you do the tests in the desert. It would be great if you could finish before they manage to do their spraying. I am interested in counter-terrorism, I would be happy to stay back.”

“That’s a good idea, comrade Olivier,” said Jean. “Your parents will be very proud of you.” Never mind that comrade Olivier was only nominally Patrick’s son, but Aslan’s in reality. Both papas would be proud, and certainly comrade Marianne.

“Rodion and I will be afraid to let you work unprotected in the desert,” objected comrade Saïd.

“Well, your investigation is not going to last that long,” countered Jean. “As soon as you know how they did it, you just hop on the train and come out.” Another great achievement of the Palestine revolution aside from gradually reducing ethnic strife were the train lines that now linked all major cities in Palestine, including Gaza and the West Bank.

They took the rest of the afternoon to check their neurotransmitters and prepare their love bots with various combinations of them. After some more thinking and discussion they came up with a natural body variant without much accenting, a glutamate-accented variant for forward speed and reducing fear, especially at point zero, an oxytocin-accented one for successful reassembly, a dopamine-accented one for encouraging speedy disassembly, and a serotonin- and gaba-accented variant for encouraging or even reversing disassembly in case of danger.  They decided to take the train out to a station North of al-Khalil or Hebron in the evening already.  From there one of  Red Palestine’s transporter would pick them up, then they would have a few hours of sleep before they started their testing in the morning. They all feared that the Neonazi Kraut brigade would be already waiting for them. And their fears turned out be justified.

Hate Spray against Love Bots

Hate spray against love bots, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

“Yet, in a way it is good that it is no longer Jews against Palestinians, or even Palestinians against Zionists, but only peace and revolution against capitalists and fascos, isn’t it?” Jean-Saïd asked his father as they were driving out to their first test location in the morning. They had chosen three locations with different complications: one long stretch, one with hilly terrain, and one where the beam would have to go around several corners.

“Absolutely,” said Jean. “In my eyes, it may even be the greatest revolutionary victory since the world revolution in 2021. Let’s bio-message Palestinian Refoundation while we are at it and ask what if anything they found out examining those drones.”

“They were fitted with nanobots carrying some kind of chemicals or even a live bacteria or virus. We are not experts, and we only have a small lab. We sent samples to your Red July lab at Jerusalem Tech for examination. We thought you would be there for a while still, but now you are here already. Any reason?” asked Mahmoud.

“We were getting antsy,” said Jean. “Son, I think I should leave you to your tests and scurry over to the lab at Palestinian Refoundation to find out myself what it is what the fascos want to spray.”

He called about an hour later. The Transport Beam brigade was already half-through their second round of tests. The glutamate- and oxytocin-accented  neurotransmitter combinations were definitely helping in the disassembly and reassembly processes and also in overcoming the fear at point zero. The results for dopamine, gaba, and serotonin were mixed.

Alon, Ruth, Yassir, and Ihsan were helped by it, Boaz, Rafiq, and Jean-Saïd less so.

“We are about to try the cocktail in two more versions, more of the three disputed ones or less of them. Maybe it depends on the individual, whether he or she is more of a cool, realistic type disturbed by emotions, hesitation, and mood swings, or the romantic type that thrives on them. That’s why we are testing both for the average result of the brigade as well as for the individual reactions.”

“Listen!” said Jean. “The sooner you finish and return to Red Palestine, the better. The nanobots the drones were carrying were not just sulfuric acid and zeolites.” He laughed bitterly. “I am beginning to find the First Kraut brigade ludicrous in comparison.”

“It would be that Reinhart Fischer with his synthetic neurotransmitters collaborating with David Toter and his robots – he already fooled Tel Aviv customs with his humanoid robots, he is probably up to nanobots as well –, and that Fritz who does insecticides,” said Jean-Saïd.

“How do you know?” Jean pretended to be astonished. “While the others were voyaging, I listened in on your doings at the lab and looked the stuff up intraline, why they think they may stop us with it. Well, Chlorine causes eye irritation and breathing difficulties, Lewisite low blood pressure and weakness, Cyanogen chloride confusion, Sarin jerking and twitching, and Adamsite a headache. None of these you want to experience when you are about to travel decomposed  on a beam.”

Jean let out a deep breath, then added. “And they are all chemicals the Nazis and the U.S. have already used in battle, in concentration camps, and against demonstrators. They called it crowd control. And they have the brazenness to pretend they are human lives matter advocates!”

“Yes, papa, I know.  Thanks for finding out for us. I have to go now. Boaz has just landed, no problem. He did well with higher levels of dopamine and serotonin, he seems to be the romantic type. I am about to travel with the higher level of gaba, and somewhat lower for serotonin and dopamine, for the rational type. Then we will be finished for the day. See you soon!”

Jean-Saïd drank his nanobot cocktail as he did not like being injected and then closed his eyes to summon the yellow beam. He was to travel on the hilly stretch then return to his point of departure. When he opened his eyes before  beginning to disassemble to see whether the beam was there next to him to mount on, he noticed that the sky had gotten a bit darker, as if a thunderstorm was in coming. Not so frequent in January, but not unheard of. He did not think any more of it as he was already disintegrating and had to make sure his whole body was on the beam. He welcomed zero point with relief, because that meant he was already half-way through. And then bang! He was reassembled and intact, but something had gone wrong. He had fallen down, where usually with some luck you got to land on your two legs. He got up, but felt very drowsy and had to struggle to stay upright.

“Quick!” Rafiq was shouting next to him. “Let me go before their drones come.” And now, trying to squint through his eyes which felt somehow dry and peppery,  he could see the swarm of drones approaching over the horizon. “No, way,” he wanted to shout. “Where is the transporter? We are going home!” But the words wouldn’t come and he felt an intense headache. Then Alon was already pulling him into the transporter, while Ihsan and Boaz stood there jumping up and down, waiting for Rafiq to come back. From the transporter, Jean-Saïd tried to observe what was happening, although he was sneezing and coughing now and his throat hurt so much he could not speak. He noticed that Alon and Ruth next to him were developing red spots and blisters. Oh, buffalo merde, it was exactly as in the description of the nerve agents his father had found in their nanobots.

Oh, hooray, Rafiq had landed, seemingly intact. But he seemed weak, Ihsan and Boaz were reaching out for him. And now, horribile dictu, he was vomiting in Boaz face. Was it this paranoia again? Jean-Saïd wondered what his uncle and the others had found out at Racah.

Now, luckily, Boaz and Ihsan were pushing and pulling poor Rafiq into the vehicle. He had shat and peed himself and Boaz’ shirt was full of vomit. The driver, friendly comrade Abdallah, turned around and asked. “All on board?” Then the electrovehicle, even here in the semi-desert the cooperatives were following revolutionary rules, slowly started over the sand and stones on its way home. There were no more drones. And as they approached Red Palestine, they could see why. The comrades had managed to down several of them with bronze beams, and the rest had turned around. Yet the damage had been done. At the cooperative as well, half of the people were seriously ill, had to be treated with atropine, pralidoxime and other medicines, not all of them as natural medications as the revolution wanted them. They would have to write a report to comrade Fabienne at Institut Pasteur about it.

Comrade Jean had returned from Refoundation after the attack. There had been no drone sightings there. Reconciliation had received a spraying, and about 14 people showed symptoms. Luckily, the cattle had been in the stables at all three cooperatives because it had looked like storm. Later that night, a little rain came, and there was a significant temperature drop, probably also due to the spraying, but helping them and their environment overcome its consequences as well.

Rafiq was among the most seriously ill. “Your fault, buddy! Why did you have to go?” Boaz nagged him. “I did not want to disrupt the test sequence,” Rafiq managed to sputter, all yellow in the face and cold from hypotension. “Anyway, I know I am the rational type.”

“But we gave you the high count!”  Jean-Saïd laughed.

“Both Rafiq and you could have used some more Gaba,” noted Ruth, and everybody had to laugh in spite of everything.

“Anyway, the whole last series will have to be repeated. I was wobbly as well when I touched down. Now let’s hear from Saïd, Rodion, and Olivier.”

“Sorry, not at the moment, comrades. We are just passing under a drone swarm!”

“You are not serious!” lamented Jean. “Why did you travel then?”

“We did not know yet when we left! It only came through bio-radio when we were already on the train. Anyway, they are not firing. Maybe out of ammo?”

“We are almost there,” said Olivier. “There we go. Now I can see Red Palestine straight ahead.”

“So, what did you find out?” Jean-Saïd asked the three of them even as they got of the Refoundation transporter that Benzion was driving.

“Come on in, comrade Benzion!” said Josh, and comrade Jason seized for him as he almost crashed upon getting out. He got up and revealed rash and blisters all over his body that the members of the Transport Beam brigade were now beginning to show as well.

“How come the three of you didn’t develop them until now?” “I had the window open when I drove to the train station, that’s when I must have caught them,” Benzion explained. “I remember there was a funny acid smell in the air, and when I got out of the car, I could see the drones.”

“Anyway, papa solved their mystery already. Old-fashioned capitalist chemical weapons. The doctor at Red Palestine here has got the antidotes.  Chemical warfare was so common around here before the revolution that policlinics intuitively kept them in stock. In case kids inadvertently stumbled over a pre-revolutionary weapon’s deposit.”

“Well, about this manufactured paranoia,” Rodion told the story once the sick had been treated and brought to bed, and those healthy enough to eat had sat down in comrade Muhammed’s living room who happened to be one of the two neighbourhood assembly chairmen of the week. “We did find some nanobots with AL-20, which is a newer version of the virus, in the radiator and other places, but that still does not explain who made the voices you all heard and how they made you hear them. We haven’t found any hidden microphones or other gadgets. We have to keep looking!”

4)The New Zionist Defence Forces

Your Team at the Ayalon Logistics Station, by Olivier and Danièle

The Ayalon Logistics Station

“They needed planes, they needed drones, they needed the toxins. So, who is behind it?” “They call themselves the New Zionist Defence Forces (ZDF), joining quite a few desperados from the IDF or rather IDF families as well as the New Ayalon Institute,” explained comrade Saïd. “It used to have its base at New Haganah, which is now State of the Reconciliation.  And they have links to the North American Uberytes – Henri Uber, Fernando Deliverando, Louis Deshalles, and Viesturs Volt –, who don’t know any better than to implement their basic scheme here in Palestine as well: clandestine logistics stations, sports studios, night clubs, and private policlinics to continue illegal production and crypto trade.

“We think we found the place where they organised the raid. They call it the New Ayalon Logistics Station. And you know who staffs it at the moment? You wouldn’t guess it, our enemies the New Kraut brigade in need of a job:  from left to right Elke and Andrew Hardlife, Reinhart Fischer, David Toter, Tino Kryptolla, Fritz Schneid, Klaus Newman, Dorian Kopf, Julian Redswan, and Wolf Scheuble. This is an ad for the station. Because in order to visit their chemical warfare on us, they first needed space and crypto.

So they did their usual thing like they do in the French lands as well, and in Chechnia, and the whole world over. Find some derelict hangar, look for some jerks who will sell them a few decent electro-transporters against crypto or some other money substitutes, and then start to pick up parcels, or get people to bring them in, and then transport them against crypto or another money substitute to some other crypto-outfit, and from there to their final destination, unless somebody comes in and picks them up. At the same time, they can always print money or even cards on a 3 D printer, stockpile weapons and drones, acquire airplanes or other equipment until they have all it takes to execute or at least participate in any major act of sabotage they can come up with.”

***

“Did you hear that knock?” asked Elke. “Let me check who it is!” answered her husband Andrew. “Don’t go alone!” said one of the two security men, fierce looking young men in IDF uniforms who had told them their grandfathers already had been with the IDF and their fathers had moved on from there to the new Haganah. And they positioned themselves on his sides as he opened the door.

“We mean no harm!” said a relatively young man, considerably younger than Andrew and the other would-be oligarchs, not much older than the security detail. “We are all full Jews, except for Jean and our benjamin there on the far right, Jean-Saïd, but they are at least half it. I am Benzion, next to me is Ina, this is David, this is Ben, this is Alon, next to him is Ruth, and this is Boaz. We mean peace, otherwise we would not have brought the two women, we want to talk to you.” Funny, thought Andrew, did it only seem this way, or had he only talked to the two ZDF men, almost completely ignoring him.

“No problem,” one of them said, almost with a grin on his face. “Come in! We’ll get you some chairs from the lab.” Oh, why did he have to mention the word lab? Reinhart Fischer began to worry. Now the Zionist visitors were going to wonder what kind of lab it was.

“And I’ll make you some tea!” said the other ZDF soldier, once they had ushered them inside and they had found seats at the table.

“May I use the toilet?” asked the elderly gentlemen, in his mid-60s at least. Andrew did not know what to do. “Let me show you!” Yet once he had escorted Jean to the place and wanted to wait for him in front of the door to make sure he did not snoop around, Elke called him from the front-room. “Quick, Andrew, come back, we need your input!”

“You see,” Benzion explained, he was still doing the talking, “as I was just explaining to your friends, we may be Zionists, but we do not want to be equated either with the Palestinian-haters of all, nor with the post-revolutionary crypto-merchants who are operating world-wide, but with their centre in the ex-U.S., or what would you say? This idea with the logistics stations is also one of theirs, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes,” said Andrew, who had all but forgotten about snooping Jean, as this concerned a topic he was passionate about. “Although the original idea is subcontinental Indian, not just rickshaw-Indian, but also AI-Indian. Before the revolution already, the business was working almost without bureaucracy or overhead, but using mainly AI. You placed your order by phone, and you could check all the stages from pick-up to delivery via smart phone. Nowadays we do the same via intranet, obviously. And it works, we have been here only two days, we have already done over twenty deliveries.” He was lying of course, they had received a few deliveries of materials for the synthetic neuro-transmitter lab, and then they had delivered some samples to university departments in Lebanon, Jordania, and Palestine. Yet one had even gone to the, was it Rakah Institute of Physics at Jerusalem Tech.

“Yes, but that’s why we are here. I don’t know who afforded you the rental of the place. It wasn’t the Elders, I don’t think, because while we are Zionist, we are not anti-Palestinian, and we are not pro-capitalist either, we just want to make sure that we Jews and our children can have a safe life here.” At this Ina and Ruth nodded emphatically. “We are not against the idea of mixed brigades, we are against weaponisation, we are against crypto and other money substitutes…”

“Well, but don’t you see, they won’t grant that to you, unless you have a state and an all-Jewish government in place,” interrupted David Toter.

“And I would go one further,” said Tino Kryptolla. “You would not survive either without a world-capitalist system to back you up.”

“Of course, we also abhor usury!” said Scheuble and everybody looked at him a bit shocked.

“In a nutshell, we need rule-based capitalism,” Reinhart Fischer tried to steer the language away from oblique anti-Semitism.

“What decided you to come here?” asked David-Reconciliation.

“Well, you know about the Uberyte model,” Andrew tried to calm the waters, “logistics stations, if possible as part of normal revolutionary logistics organisations, with the only difference that we ask for some form of money, they don’t, sports studios or martial arts schools, if possible allowing training with weapons, night clubs, if possible as part of a plain amusement section in the revolutionary maisons de culture or cultural centres, and private policlinics offering extras, not only the direly needed flu-shots, but also complex cancer treatment, surgery, and even gender ops, although…”

“You want to popularise this model here,” said Ben, interrupting him. “Yet we would have adopted it ourselves if it made sense in our tradition. But it doesn’t. We Jews appreciate self-management, think of the kibbutzim.”

“Well,” said Klaus Newman. “But don’t you need weapons to defend yourselves?”

“Not necessarily,” said Jean-Saïd, even before one of his elders could stop him. “After all, we have the revolutionary red beams.” At that moment, his father re-appeared from in back. “Go freshen up, son!” he said, apparently really angry that his cheeky son had intervened in things over his head. Jean-Saïd got up, quite contritely, and disappeared in the back corridor.

“But we are interested in your synthetic neuro-transmitters,” said Boaz. “We need them for medical purposes, not for recreational drugs or boosters,” Alon added quickly. Yet now the Nazis were seriously alarmed. The four young people, Alon, Boaz, Ruth, and Jean-Saïd now seemed eerily familiar. Weren’t they the same that had appeared in the bio-feed from the drones that had tried to stop these desert trials of the revolutionary yellow beam? And Benzion, David, and Ben, now that they looked at them more closely, weren’t they from the triangle of cooperatives, this revolutionary hub that had chased the first Kraut brigade already?

“Throw these hooligans out!” said Dorian Kopf and he and Julian Redswan got up to help the two ZDF men if needed. “They are not Zionists. They are revolutionaries in disguise. Industrial spies if you ask me, they want to find out about Reinhart’s neurons and David’s robots…”

“Well, they can have a taste of my sprays!” shouted Fritz Schneid, and before anyone could stop in, he had run to a cupboard in back, thrown a bottle each to Dorian, Julian and the two ZDF men and started to spray himself. However, instead of spraying, the two ZDF men pulled the bottle out of his hand.

Anticipating the dynamics of the situation, Dorian and Julian dropped theirs as well, and ran to the window through which they escaped in the ensuing confusion. As a matter of fact, there now erupted a loud noise in back of the house, then a voice sounded.

“This is spontaneous militia. Hands up, we have received a request for a material check. Your lab is closed for further investigation. Here is our quorum from the village assembly.” And at that he was probably presenting his old intranet phone to one of the lab attendants. This was one of the formal occasions when it was still needed.

“F.u.c.k.!” shouted Reinhart Fischer. “They are already in the lab!” and seeing that other spontaneous militia was already at the door, also scampered to the window, followed by Scheuble, Newman, Toter, Kryptolla, the two Hardlifes, and Schneid who had pulled himself out of the grip of the two ZDF men. They managed to board one of their transporters Dorian and Julian had parked right by the window and disappeared in a cloud of dust, probably beating a speed record for accelerating a battery-powered vehicle in the sand. Two militia cars launched themselves in pursuit. Our Illyrian and Transport Beam brigade comrades stayed back though, because they were more interested in examining the evidence the gangsters had left behind.

The New Hamas Martial Arts School

Regreening al-Khalil, by Natalie and Danièle

Hours later, it was dark already, ten disshevelled-looking people in camo garb knocked at the side entrance of a sports school in al-Khalil. Several Palestinians serving as security pulled them in, and brought them first to the first floor where they took a shower and got some clean Arabic clothing, then down again to a nicely carpeted and furnished sitting-room where some sports-men were relaxing over food and a cup of tea while others were sparring next door in the exercise room. On the other side of the sitting room was a prayer room.  Dorian and Julian noticed that several of those sitting in the main room had disappeared into the prayer room as soon as they had entered. It was not prayer time yet. Hopefully not another case of betrayal. They had to be careful. The sitting room opened into a backyard with two more rooms in back, both with guards at the door. One of them as far as Andrew remembered was the lab that  had put together the chemicals for the desert attack against the Yellow Beam brigade, the other one stored drones.  Maybe Toter’s robots as well? This time it was Elke who had to go to the toilet. “But you have just been!” Andrew muttered. Yet she had already squeezed past security and gone upstairs again. She did not reappear for a long time.

The others cowered on a carpet or sat on a puffy cushion just as they preferred and talked to six more interlocutors. “I am Muhammed, this is Jibril, and this is Khaled. Next to Khaled are Qasim, Salah, and Nasir.” This time none of them looked familiar. However, some of the security had reminded him of the three young Palestinian scientists in the desert tests. What had been their names? Yassir, Ihsan, and Rafiq, thought Klaus Newman. But then again in the semi-obscurity, and in camo, all cats looked green, didn’t they?

“Do you also do weapon’s training?” he asked their six hosts, and they nodded.

“Even with fire arms, but we go out into the desert, it’s more discrete. Here we only do gentle wrestling, sometimes sparring with sticks. Why do you ask? Do you need security men?”

“Yes!” said Scheuble. “As a matter of fact, we do!”

“Weren’t you embedded with the Zionists at Haganah?”

“Ayalon, yes, but we got raided by spontaneous militia. A case of betrayal from inside if you ask me!”

“But remember, Wolf, the two dodgy guys that had to go to the loo!” Toter jogged his memory.

“It would never have happened under Hitler,” the man called Salah said earnestly, but he couldn’t have been too serious, because the other Palestinians broke out in laughter.

”You know we Palestinians used to love Hitler,” said Jibril. “He seemed to defend our interests, but then after the war and the… what do you call it?… holocaust, even more Jews came, and they sent us on the Nakba.”

An awkward silence ensued, because these Neonazis seemed neither amused nor contrite. “We need to hide for a while!” said Schneid. “Here as a matter of fact, close to my lab would suit me fine. We have lost Reinhart’s neuro-transmitter lab already, as well as the hangar for assembling airplanes.”

“And you can’t stay here,” Muhammed shook his head emphatically, although Andrew seemed to detect a slight smirk around his mouth, but maybe that was just his own mind running amok from all the stress of these last hours.

“We are in the centre of a busy village.” Al-Khalil’s inner quarters had all been extremely crowded before the revolution already. Of course, some resettlement to the countryside and some regreening  has taken place. Look at these pictures! Before the revolution, the agglo of Hebron was all yellow and ochre. Now there is a lot more green in it. Obviously, there are no more private cars, and car traffic has been reduced by over 90% as everywhere in the world. Only small delivery vehicles and taxis may drive in Hebron agglo. They are free like everything else in the revolution where every household, farm, workshop, and every cabbie receives their goods for free in exchange for their high-quality work in various capacities – fifteen hours of socially necessary labour time and another fifteen hours or more of scientific, social, creative or otherwise pleasurable work. “Don’t worry, we’ll relocate you when the time comes.”

“You are afraid to get busted?” asked Fischer.

“Oh, no, we are a properly self-managed organisation, we switch our brigadiers every day!” said Khaled. “And we don’t produce anything, we are just a sports studio slash martial arts school.”

“What about the chemicals and drones in back?” asked Fritz.

“We’ll send them with you!” said Jibril. “And the robots as well!” Oh, they’ve still got my robots, thought Toter. That’s good, they may come in handy. That was bad news!, thought Scheuble. Where were they going to bring them? These Palestinian sportsmen seemed to be turncoats just like the young IDF guys.

“Don’t you want to fight these Zionists?” Toter tried his luck.

“No, as long as they let us be!” said Muhammed. “Time for you to go now. The woman who was with you is already in the transporter. You’ll meet up with her later. Are you still hungry? We’ll send some food along with you in case the disco does not have any. The disco? thought Scheuble in anguish. They were not going to force them to camp in a  disco, would they?

Martial arts school in Hebron, by Jean-Saïd and Olivier

Then all of a sudden, they heard some male yelling, followed by some female shrieking. Then Elke appeared at the door, still sleepy and with her hair in disarray. “There, this man!” and  she pointed at the one who looked like Yassir- Transport Beam brigade appearing behind her. “He wanted to roll me up in a carpet.”

“But Madame,” said Muhammed, who did not know any German but spoke some French. “Your comrades, eh brothers will also be rolled up in carpets. It is for security. There is an alert out for every one of you, all over Palestine, for spraying toxic chemicals, and for producing some neurons, what do you call them?, neurotransmitters out in the countryside, literally the desert, without asking the surrounding village assemblies for consensus. And for having spread crypto forbidden by all village assemblies in Palestine at least since Year 19. You also stand accused of producing or at least assembling airplanes and drones, although they did not find the drones yet. No wonder, they are here in this shop. There may be a certain comrade Evsey Vogelsang behind some of the airplanes and drones as well. Any idea who he is?”

Elke shook her head. He was an Elder, or was he part of the Trio? All the meetings and bio-video conferences of the last few days had been too much for her. She wondered why the men were not objecting to being rolled up in carpets. Maybe out of pure fear? Now it was her turn again. “Not so tight! I am going to suffocate!” Because she was struggling and offering resistance even as she was already in the carpet and being carried to the vehicle, she overheard some quick words between their hosts.

“Good riddens! Now we can let this be a decent prayer school again! The comrades can just pick them up at the club?” “Prayer school? Comrades?” Were these apparent Palestinian counter-revolutionary resistance fighters good Muslims and revolutionaries after all? And then, as she was being lifted into the vehicle, she spotted a brand new sticker on the back of the vehicle. “Intifada – revolution!” Oh, buffalo merde, that meant that they were at the very least revolutionary, if not pro-mixed brigade even! Luckily, in the vehicle she came to lie in between Klaus and Julian. She could tell from their perfumes. She would have preferred Andrew, but had it been Scheuble, it would have been even worse. “Listen!” she whispered so as not to be overheard by the security who had boarded the vehicle with them and were probably cowering around them. “They are traitors. I think we’ll have to split the scene as soon as we get there.” “Understood!” muttered Klaus. “Try to send a bio-message to the others!” suggested Julian. Then there was a bio-message from somebody else, probably Dorian. “Let’s inform the Elders and the Trio as well! As for me, I am quitting. They have royally mocked us!”

5) The Second Kraut brigade

The weedy Owl, by Marius and Jean-Luc

“They were last seen in a counter-revolutionary nightclub, The weedy Owl.” “Then let’s go there.” “Yes, of course. Yassir, Ihsan, and Rafiq are already there. They played security at the sports school.”

It took some time for their eyes to get used to the dark. The walls were covered in a dark-red, imitated leather carpet. Soft music was playing. They passed a front room where couples were sitting at small tables, drinking and snacking and getting closer. Then in the next room, the light was even lower, there were diwans and people kissing. They had to stay close to the Nazis so that they could not get away, so Rafiq pushed up next to Elke and said: “Look, I have got a copy of Mein Kampf! Would you like to autograph it?” Alon, Boaz, and Ruth had warned him to expect the worst from these Krauts, but he was still surprised when she turned and slapped him hard in the face. They were now entering the third room. As if on à propos, couples in this room were engaged in a number of dodgy or at least violent practices. One man was whipping his partner, another one was kissing little girls… oh, no, it was too sordid to tell. And coins, cash and crypto-cards were lying on all the tables. And there was the smell of alcohol and tobacco and other scents that had to be from their capitalist drugs. Rafiq had to puke and wanted to turn around to leave. Yet, what if the others needed help? According to what Muhammed and the others had told them, the nightclub was Zionist. Obviously, it would not be revolutionary, no village assembly in the world would ever approve the exploitation of sex slaves, and it would definitely not be Muslim. No God-fearing Muslim would ever set foot in here!

Our ten villains on the other hand seemed to feel quite at home here.  Before the three young Palestinian comrades even had an idea of how they would go about it, Reinhart Fischer and Fritz Schneid had organised themselves female whores, David Toter and Tino Kryptolla male ones. Wolf Scheuble seemed to have trouble deciding between a young boy and a young girl, but he had managed to pay both of them with a Platinum crypto-card that entitled them to help themselves to the Shekel and Lira cash and coins on the table.

Klaus Newman, Dorian Kopf, and Julian Redswan were standing together waiting to get seated at a table.  All of them were there under observation without any obvious opportunity for escape. Yassir, Ihsan, and Rafiq also pretended to be waiting for a table and had placed urgent requests for a spontaneous militia brigade to arrive soon.

In fact, they had already asked for a quarter assembly quorum for spontaneous militia when they were still at the sports club, and they did not know what was taking the comrades so long. As it turned out later, the militiamen  had been blocked at the entrance already by a gang of violent thugs. The three young comrades did not notice it because the music was extremely loud inside, and moreover, some kind of colourful smoke was being released from the light globes that slowly filled the room and made everybody very tired. Rafiq was trying to focus on Klaus, Julian, and Dorian, because being the fittest, any attempt at escape would probably come from them. Yet their limbs seemed to be getting extremely long and their heads smaller and rounder in relation to them. Were they undergoing some kind of magical transformation, or was that the effect of the coloured smoke? Maybe some spray from Fritz Schneid’s arsenal?

Rafiq still thought he was alert and rationally pondering this question when he heard a loud bump and found himself sitting next to the table on the flour with his legs and head hurting intensely from the fall. Then he passed out.

When he woke up what could not have been more than a few minutes but to him seemed like hours later, a medic was kneeling next to him asking how he felt. “Alright?” “O.k., but where are they? Did you arrest them, the Krauts, the Nazis, I mean?”

The medic shook his head. “They were no longer there once we had managed to stun the thugs at the entrance. Can you remember where they were when you last saw them?”

“Oh, yes, I could see all of them from the table. Where are Yassir and Ihsan?”

“They also passed out. They are being examined as well. Tell me, where were the crims when you last saw them?”

“Fischer, Schneid, Toter, and Kryptolla were in the second room making love. Scheuble was on the way to the third room with a boy on his left and a girl on his right,” Ihsan interrupted from the other side of the table.

“Klaus, Dorian, and Julian were at a table, but they were sort of getting longer. Maybe they were getting up?” Rafiq wondered.

“Any idea who put on the toxic smoke? The workers in this joint, waiters and whores, have all been questioned. They say they did not know they even had stuff like that in store. Anyway, the outfit only opened last week, in time for the Kraut’s arrival. Over half of the workers were revolutionary spies to begin with.”

“Fritz must have carried some on his person,” said Yassir. “Ask the prostitute he was with whether he left the bed at any time!”

The prostitute Fritz Schneid had been with who turned out to have been a trans was even more heavily sedated then the three young revolutionaries. When she finally woke up, she said, ‘Yes!’ She seemed to remember Fritz going away, but she was not sure whether he had come back.

“Well, that does not prove anything,” said one of the militiamen, a Jew, the Illyrians were quite impressed that the local quarter assembly of al-Khalil which was still predominantly Palestinian had been able to summon a mixed brigade on such short notice and in the middle of the night.

“We live close together, we are friends. Anyway, don’t idolise us too much, we have only two Jews and five Palestinians, but yeah, we tried!”

“I mean,” continued his comrade. “They must have left somehow. Maybe via the toilet. After all, they are no longer here. Let’s ask the workers whether they remember any particulars.” The boy and the girl whom Scheuble had dragged with them said a tall man, looking like…, and they identified him as Klaus Newman had come, whispered: “Time to go!”, and then they had both left together.

“Why didn’t you do something, yell or anything? They should have given you a party alarm!” Muhammed said who in the meantime had appeared with Jibril and Khaled.

“Why didn’t you arrest them already at the sports club?” asked one of the militiamen.

“We thought if ever they have followers they will still consider the sports club safe, that way we could have arrested them as well.”

“Makes sense,” said the one of the medics, “Let’s not fight amongst each other.”

The workers who had been with Fischer, Toter, and Kryptolla had all passed out from the smoke and could not remember anything.

“Wait,” said Saïd, intervening intraline from the road. “Where were Elke and Andrew Hardlife. Did anyone see them?”

“True!” Ihsan was perplexed. “They went into the third room when comrade Rafiq came out. We thought there wasn’t any exit there, and we wouldn’t miss them!”

“But you were wrong!” said one of the militiamen and led all of them into the third room where a sizable window was hidden behind a dome bed. It was open. A cool night breeze was coming in.

“Well then, into your cars. They only know one more address. The policlinic,” said Muhammed. “Or let’s call it Polykill, because their fake doctors and nurses certainly don’t mean well by their patients.”

“Well, then into the cars. Comrades from the triangle, if you are still close enough to al-Khalil, come there as well. I bio-message you the coordinates!”

At the “Polykill”

Draft: At the “Polykill”, by Marius and Jean-Luc

Comrades Saïd and Abdallah who had picked up this morning’s fake Zionist brigade – David, Ben, Benzion, Ina, Alon, Boaz, Ruth, Jean-Saïd and Jean –, from the New Ayalon logistics station, of course immediately turned their car in the direction of the Polykill as well.

“Let me understand the situation,” asked Jean. “At the sports clubs, the whole collective was pro-revolutionary, in the night club the workers were as well, but then this band of thugs mobilised out of nowhere and caused trouble to you militiamen. Any inkling of the situation we shall find at the Polykill?”

“Well, the band of thugs did not materialise out of nowhere,” explained another militiamen. “They were actually the initial team at the logistics station you debunked this morning. They left the field for the Neonazis, so they had a place to evolve, basically, and returned to Hebron, pardon al-Khalil.”

“That’s bad!” said Jean-Saïd . “That means there are more of them than we thought. I already hoped the second Krauts were basically the only Zionists left, and they were fake.”

The al-Khalil militiamen laughed. “Look, al-Khalil is a big agglo, over 200,000 inhabitants before the revolution, somewhat fewer now. If you apply normal world-wide estimates, about one in every 500 people may have latent counter-revolutionary sympathies, but only about one in every 1000 passes to action if at all. So, there can be 200 potential thugs in a big city like this without ruining your class analysis. Some of them may be Palestinian even, pretending to be Zionists.”

“That is a comforting explanation, comrade… what’s your name?” asked Jean.

“Jakuv,” said the militiaman modestly. “I am from an old Hebron, pardon al-Khalil family. We follow things, but we mean well. We report to the Elders. The clinic in question is private clinic that already existed before the revolution. They do complex reanimation, after a heart attack or stroke, and cutting-edge surgery, heart, cancer, and even brain surgery. But they charge crypto of course, lots of it.”

By the time Saïd and Abdallah had pulled up the transporter with the fake Zionist brigade to the Polykill, the al-Khalil militia brigade and the Illyrian sports club brigade –Muhammed, Jibril, Khaled, Yassir, Ihsan, and Rafiq –, had already arrived there. By village assembly decisions confirmed by local, regional, continental – in this case Asia-wide – and global referendum, a revolutionary self-managed policlinic has to have at most 20 beds to allow optimal treatment for each patient, and consist of a maximum of seven specialised brigades, each made up of at least two doctors – to avoid hierarchy-building, and either two nurses, and three supporting personnel, or three nurses and two supporting personnel. Like in the rest of economy and society, the role of brigadier is supposed to rotate between all seven, meaning that nurses and supporting staff members as well get to be brigadier one day a week. The brigades can be general or specialised, depending on whether the policlinic is located in an agglo area with many policlinics to choose from or in a country where the main thing is to ensure basic care.  In this case, all seven brigades were specialised, one reception, one intensive care, one heart, one brain, one stroke, one tumour, and one rehabilitation brigade. “Before any operation, all patients spend at least one day in the intensive care unit. We have twelve patients in the clinic right now. Eight of them arrived earlier this evening, passed intensive care, six are in intensive care now, two are in rehab,” explained the brigadier of the day at reception and blushed. “Not much wrong with them, is there?” asked comrade Jibril. “That we don’t know, the doctors are only just examining them at the moment. Comrade Layla will bring you to them, first to those in intensive care. Wait, not all of you may enter at the same time. Choose four among you, then you’ll fit in.”

After some looking at each other and bio-thicket-protected bio-messaging, comrades Benzion, Muhammed, Jakuv, and Saïd went ahead. Yet the others stayed not far behind so as to prevent another attempt at evasion. Both intensive care unit and rehab were on the first floor. That was good. It wouldn’t be so easy to escape through the window.

From the door, the six looked exactly like Elke and Andrew Hardlife, Reinhart Fischer, David Toter, Fritz Schneid, and Klaus Newman. The two doctors looked exactly like Julian and Dorian. Yet when Muhammed and the others stepped up to the two doctors with red shield on against potential brown beams, and red beams ready to prevent their escape and arrest them, they jumped back in disgust. “Oh, merde, but it’s not them, it’s robots, it’s all robots. Those in bed as well.”  They quickly switched from red to bronze beams in case the robots were armed. The two pretend-doctors fell to the ground with metallic clatter.

“And the two doctors? Were they real at least?”

“No, you heard the jangle. They were robots as well.”

“And those in rehab?” “There weren’t any patients in rehab at all.”

“They probably did not even go in here, they just sent the robots. We should have been suspicious when reception said there were only eight of them. There isn’t any Scheuble, nor is there a Kryptolla robot. Maybe they did not get them ready on time, or maybe they did not have the right disguise for them. They raided the storage room at the sports club, but they did not have a lot of time, obviously.”

“I still cannot understand why we let them escape three times!”  Saïd sighed. “But d’accord, we can discuss that later. Let us first talk to the policlinic workers!” It took some time to get everybody out of bed and to the policlinic or at least on stand-by via intraline from home.

“How come you agreed to work at this policlinic which is not self-managed and forces patients to pay crypto? Maybe it even uses harmful medications and or operating procedures,” one of the al-Khalil militiamen asked them.

“Were you going for the crypto? Is it needed now you can get all your goods free through the economic circuit?” another one asked.

“In the beginning, they did not mention crypto,” one of the doctors explained. “They just said this was an avantgarde clinic which was going to allow us to test our skills as surgeons. You see we are all experts in our fields, heart, brain, breast, stomach, intestines, prostate, ovaries, glands…”

“D’accord, you said yes, then what happened?”

“They asked us what kind of equipment we needed, and we described it. Then they said, they couldn’t find any local or even regional workshops who would produce them, and the further-away ones all wanted crypto, for the transport alone. Of course, we realised they were lying. Because even the further-away workshops participate in the economic circuit after all. They send their equipment via train and ship from the French lands, let’s say. You are from the French lands , aren’t you?, and the workers over there get their inputs and food and other goods locally. Then on another occasion, they will be able to get products from around here. I know the Racah Institute at Jerusalem Tech makes synthetic neuro-transmitter as well. In fact, they asked for those.”

“Who were they?”

“Oh, some Fritzl’s talking intraline, from the Austrian, or the German  or even the Russian lands, called Merz, Killingbird…”

“No, Killingbeil…,” said another doctor.

“Pappenstiel, and Pistacchio, or something. The connection was bad, I am sorry, we did not understand everything. And at one point, there was some interference from the off that sounded Russian.”

“That might have been the Russian Big Animals. Two of them, Belkov and Lysov make medicines, don’t they?” asked Jean-Saïd.

“Yes, but they are rehabilitating now!” comrade Zelim piped up from Illyria.

“Well, when did this conversation take place?” asked Saïd.

“Two or three months ago. We had two, one in October and one in November!” said a third doctor.

“That is absolutely amazing. We were right behind these Boches, had them either behind bars or were about to get them, and still they managed to hire you and involve the Russians for credibility!” complained Denis from Illyria. “We have to be much tougher with these felons.”

“These eight robots represented different ones, however,” Nurse Layla said timidly.

“Well, that’s worse!” comrade Jérôme continued his father’s rant. “They keep recruiting, even from the can.”

“We should have thrown them in the volcano! I told you so, comrades!” his father went on lamenting.

6) A memorable harp conference

The Elders, by Faroukh and Sarah

The Elders

The next evening found them back at Red Palestine and in a much better mood. “Oh, this is great,” said young comrade Jean-Saïd, who was moderating. “To maybe resolve the remaining issues between Jews and Palestinians and also to finally succeed in apprehending and neutralising the foreign  intruders and saboteurs, we’ve got both representatives of the Elders – Leo Goldwing, Isaac Goldman, Rabbi Abraham Abramowitz and other well-known good-doing people among them –, and the Trio of clandestine weapon producers, that is Aaron Schiff,  Marshall Herzfeld, and Evsey Vogelsang to participate intraline in our harp conference. Comrades Aaron Schiff, Marshall and Evsey have not arrived yet. Let us start with you, comrade Elders, while we wait for them to arrive…”

You would have imagined the Elders to be sinister-looking old men in black sitting in a row and meting out judgments on who was a good Jew or who did not fit the bill at all or who was, horribile dictu, a Palestinian even… Well, the real Elders came intraline from their modest houses and apartments just like any revolutionary would.

One of the rabbis immediately asked not to even call him a rabbi since after all he had to rotate with all the members of his synagogue community. “Since you ask that, you must be with the revolution?”

“Yes, I am. Abolition of the state, all bureaucracy, also corporate, equality, no-hierarchy, self-management, rotation even in education and in the militia, material checks, ecology, building down of ugly, unneeded, and toxic buildings, elimination of cars, tarmac, concrete, regreening the agglos and even the desert, free allocation and distribution at markets, share points, or directly from farms, workshops, and other organisations, talk to animals, invite back the dinosaurs, these are wonderful principles and innovations, and you young scholars produce new inventions and innovations like this every year, if not every day. Who wouldn’t be for the revolution?”

“Would you agree, comrade Elders, that the revolution has managed to eliminate the main cause for conflict between Jews and Palestinian, material inequality and the jealousies that stem from it, giving foreign saboteurs such as Sam Bayer, and the first and second Kraut brigades an ever harder time winding up people?”

“Yes,” said Rabbi Abraham. “They seem to enjoy hardly any support among the population, Jewish or Palestinian.”

“And there is hardly any interest in their token money,” added Isaac Goldman.

“I am not so sure,” said Leo Goldwing. “Maybe you rabbis are wearing the rosy-coloured glasses, but I am more of a hands-on, practical man. I’ve made airplanes all my life. When the revolution came, many village assemblies world-wide, especially those around big airports, but not only those, even many in Africa  and Asia where much of the passenger and also the freight transport seemed to depend on large airplanes, all agreed to stop jet engines and in fact to stop all air traffic. They even proceeded to deconstructing the airports, because it might take a long time until revolutionary engineers had found a viable airplane that would be just wind- and solar-powered, you know similar to the modern sail ships that have an electrical engine running on solar-powered batteries as a back-up. And until then the revolutionary engineers like you would have discovered other forms of transport,  wouldn’t you? Well, there were many trials that failed. I remember I was talking to comrades in Madrid, comrades Andres, and also in the French lands, comrade Robespierre, was it? Yet finally, we came up with a viable solar and wind-powered plane. However, there was another delay, because crypto-capitalist critics nagged us. Maybe the names Mick McLeary and Ricky Handsome ring a bell? Fact is the airplanes to be safe would have to remain rather small. Impossible under these conditions to return to the level of passenger and freight transport we had before the revolution.

Never mind, said comrade Andres and the other revolutionary developers, we’ll just restrict them to rescue and emergency and educational flights. Freight transport is better done by train and ship anyway, and passenger travel is more rewarding this way as well. You get to see the world  from close-hand, and the oceans as well. You can get off at any station, at any harbour if you wish. And to give you the bird’s eye view for completion sake, you will get an educational flight, for free of course, from your school or workplace. After all, that’s just a free sky taxi, isn’t it?

Well, that was good ecological and Communist thinking, but the crypto-capitalists, especially the Yankees and the Krauts did not like it. They still want their private planes, and if they transport people in them, they still  want to charge, and sometimes they even still need planes as weapons, to drop their drones and do their spraying like they did the other day on the West Bank. Maybe you are aware of the fact that a few years ago they hijacked my planes that I had produced for research purposes? They wanted to use them for spraying to provoke an artificial drought. And once or twice they also  took some revolutionary planes  to bring about a melting of the polar ice caps. Imagine such madness! Now the point of this long story is to bring home to you that these counter-revolutionary crypto-capitalists never give up: they crave money, they crave power, and they come up with ever new schemes to bring back capitalist firms and profit-making and the state that supports them.”

Leo who was an old man after all, leaned back exhausted, more or less sure to have brought home his point. Yet comrade Jean-Saïd pursued his just as doggedly. “But that does not mean, comrade Leo, that Jews and Palestinians need not get along? They did not get along in the past because the Zionists wanted the land and they monopolised the state and the economy, and they forced the Palestinians to leave, then they aggrandised Israel at the expense of neighbouring people, and then in a final stage which was luckily cut short by our revolution, they had the Palestinians locked up in Gaza and were chasing them from the West Bank, and were discriminating against them literally to the point of starvation. They were not allowed to work the land, the children received hardly any education, their mothers and their children received hardly any access to healthcare, and their clothes and even their food many families in the Gaza received from foreign aid only.

“But the revolution has stopped all of that, haven’t we? Or do you still look down on the Palestinians?”

The Elders looked at each other, then Abraham Abramowitz spoke for all of them. “We truly believing Jews have never looked down on the Palestinians or anyone, since the equality of all humans, and also the worthiness, the equality of animals and plants, I know you young Illyrians care about that passionately, these principles are enshrined in our beliefs as well. Back then when the various Gaza conflicts raged, we did not know what to do, how to appease our fellow Jews who were Zionists and who hated Palestinians, who considered them inferior life forms as a matter of  fact. We considered them as mad and the whole various crises and wars since 1948 as cases of collective madness, isn’t that so, comrades?”

They all nodded, about 18 of them, from their various locations. “At the rural cooperatives, and also at the truly self-managed workshops – obviously not at those who have been infiltrated or even founded by saboteurs like the Ayalon logistics station and other Uberyte horror creations that we visited, but at least in our mixed brigades at the universities, I have everywhere and always encountered the same attitude that you just voiced,” said Jean-Saïd. “Yet just to make sure and to give the almost perfect feeling of true comradeship, friendship, and brotherhood between Palestinians and Jews the final touches, I have thought of a new Sumud flotilla. This time it would include not only individuals from all parts of the world, but mixed brigades, uniting people from various workplaces, farms and cooperatives, industrial workshops, construction brigades, research institutes, schools, universities, and so on, of different races and ethnicities, religions, genders of course, sexual orientation. And last but not least mixed brigades including not only humans, but also so-called harp brigades, humans, animals, humanoid robots, and animal- and plantbots, other intranet-capable materials, and plants or seeds at least, and even haproid brigades, for mixed human, animal, plant, robot and dinosaur brigades, although we won’t be able to invite the hugest dinosaurs on the ships. All of them will sail to Palestine from all parts of the world and greet the mixed Jewish-Palestinian brigades, as well as the harp and haproid brigades in Palestine. Together we may wonder why these Kraut brigades still periodically manage to wreck the peace and revive Zionism and fascism.”

“Fascism, not Zionism. Zionism is dead, we were telling you it was a case of collective madness.”

“Are you all in agreement with that?”

“Jews need to be allowed to live in Palestine with equal rights, without any fear to be chased, and the Moslems need to respect our religion just like we respect theirs, and this in all future, not to be questioned any day.”

“Of course, but have you any fears that your rights will be questioned? Don’t the Palestinians have to fear much more for their rights and fear to be chased with these fascos and Nazis coming and reviving capitalism and Zionism?”

“These Krauts want to harm us as well. They buddy up with us, but they feel superior. They are rabid capitalists and Nazis. They are against the revolution, and without revolution, no equality.”

“And you Palestinians, do you feel the same way?”

“Intifada – Revolution, to us it’s clear, these two goals belong together,” explained Mahmoud-Palestinian Refoundation. “Without revolution, we’ll never get equal rights, and without Intifada, our movement for equality for Palestinians, we would never have gotten the revolution.”

“And in the revolution, which has got to be permanent, re-invented every day on the farms, in workshops, and in the labs, whenever there is a hierarchy check or a complaint about discrimination, we’ll all remain equal, Jews and Palestinians, naturally,” added Yassir-transport beamer.

“Would you speak for the new Sumud flotilla then when the Trio comes on in a moment?”

“Why do you say that?” Evsey Vogelsang who was already on lifted his brow. “Do you have any indications that we might have something against it?”

The Trio

The Trio, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

“We’ll return to this question, but first let me ask the three of you a simple question. Why do you still produce weapons?

“We have the revolution, after all, which is permanent, meaning constantly recreated. Whenever there is an incipient hierarchy or a case of discrimination or disrespect at any point in the economy and society, any whistleblower can launch a series of assemblies, brigade, workplace or organisational, village or quarter, surveys, referendums, rallies, and so on, until we have fully discussed the problem and we have found a new and better consensus.

“What do we need weapons for given that we have this powerful and empowering method for solving differences?”

“Well, at least in the beginning of the revolution we had cases where Palestinian gangs came at night and wanted to murder Jews!”

“And Jewish gangs. There were also Jewish gangs.”

“But you produced weapons only for the Jews, didn’t you?”

“Well, the Palestinians could get their weapons from elsewhere, couldn’t they? Sam Bayer, the Krauts, whomever.”

“That’s ridiculous, they would not have produced weapons for us. The Intifada is anticapitalist, Zionism is capitalist.”

“The Palestinians were disrespecting us more.”

“You know how we solved the problem?” Yassir turned towards the Illyrian brigade. “We called a hierarchy check against the Trio, Schiff, Herzfeld, and Vogelsang. The workers at the workshops in question, Palestinians and Jews together, determined that the Trio were running their workshops like capitalist firms. They were permitting rotation, but their position at the top never changed. In fact, they were as remote from the production lines as the Chinese emperor from his people.”

“Lies!” “That’s a lie!” shouted the trio.

“And we ran product and material checks. After all, village assemblies and referendums world-wide have outlawed all weapons except stun guns for the militia and sticks and other make-shift weapons for self-defence. No product should be harmful, let alone be explicitly conceived to do harm. And village assemblies world-wide are constantly deliberating and accepting and rejecting products based on these criteria, so why not use their best practice? Yet our Trio was producing everything from guns to submarines, drones, airplanes, tanks, and heavy artillery. Later on, the red beams were invented. As comrade Jean-Saïd has already explained, they are like the bio-intranet in that anybody can summon them by focusing on the potential aggressor and then determining the strength of the beam necessary to stun him according to the aggressor’s stature.  Until he drops, a red shield summoned in a similar way will protect us against his brown hate beams. And we and even animals and plants can use bronze beams to stop even their heavy weaponry, such as guns and tanks, or force planes or drones to land. The red beam cannot kill, it will only stun an opponent until spontaneous militia receive a quorum from the village assembly and may arrive to arrest him. Shouldn’t that be enough in terms of weaponry?”

“It will be if the Palestinians no longer attack innocent Jews.”

“Even if they did, would not red shield, red beam, and bronze beam be enough to stop them?”

“Well, lately, we have not seen the need for producing weapons any longer,” conceded Evsey Vogelsang.

“That is true, and none of you have cooperated with the Kraut brigade. They have remained a foreign counter-revolutionary invasion, in harmony neither with the feelings of the Palestinians or the Jews.”

“We have even less to do with them than the Jews,” noted Yassir-Red Palestine. “For us they are just foreign imperialists, be it especially mean and dumb ones.”

“Yet we fear that if we launch the new Sumud flotilla, which should actually be a celebration of the reconciliation we have reached, those or similar elements may come again and convince you to produce weapons and disturb the flotilla with counter-revolutionary boats, or drones, or prevent it from landing with artillery. We know you have destroyed most of the old weapons but a few museum specimen and would not produce new weapons of your own accord, but these Nazi pretend-Zionists might tempt you.”

“What would they tempt us with?” asked Schiff. “We have our family house, our socially necessary work in ship construction, or small airplane design, or metal recycling, our children have their revolutionary purposes, our wives enjoy their equality.”

Read behind the lines, several houses, luxury limousines, yachts and private airplanes, be they propelled with wind and solar.

“Maybe with some pipedreams of reviving highways, corporate hierarchies and the state?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! The only reason we were producing  weapons was because the Palestinians were menacing us.”

“The only reason we may have menaced you was because you were violating the principles of the revolution.”

“D’accord, o.k., we no longer do! All happy now?”

“We would prefer some kind of promise, here in front of the Elders, including some Rabbis who have served for a long time and many times and may for this reason wear the title, the promise that you will not let yourself be wound up by these Neonazis and rabid capitalists as you called them. You have nothing in common with them. You are workers yourselves.”

“You have my promise!” sighed Vogelsang. “It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Anyway, I am just one harpist among many.”

“Can you imagine me and my workers, I misspoke, me and my fellow workers greeting such a peaceful, thoughtful flotilla consisting of mixed brigades from all economic sectors and from all over the world and even involving animals, including dinosaurs, and plants, can you imagine us creating weapons and greeting such a flotilla with arms?” asked Schiff.

“Well, you did it once.”

“But back then, you said it yourself, it was a flotilla of individuals.”

“I won’t be concerned,” said Herzfeld. “I no longer make weapons, I haven’t made them for years. I am not interested, and I don’t like these various brigades of Krauts anyway.”

“So, you admit that our social technology has advanced and that you no longer need to produce weapons against hypothetical Palestinian gangs?” asked Jean-Saïd.

“Instead you could simply seek the contact with them,” added Olivier.

“Agreed. We’ll just seek the contact with them.”

“Then I have one last request to you. According to our information, the new generation of Neonazi villains – Andrew and Elke Hardlife, Klaus Newman, Reinhart Fischer, David Toter, Fritz Schneid, Tino Kryptolla, Wolf Scheuble, Dorian Kopf, and Julian Redswan – are still here in Palestine, maybe just trying to get out, but maybe already planning new rounds of mischief, maybe even against the Sumud flotilla. Can you, and this request is addressed to both groups, the Elders and the Trios –, can you help us catch them?”

“Unfortunately, we haven’t the faintest idea where they are!”

“But if you found out, would you notify the village assembly in question or  your village assembly even, ask for a quorum, so that spontaneous revolutionary militia could go on in and lift them?”

“Yes, why not?” Rabbi Abramowitz spoke for the Elders. “The comrades who spoke are right, these Germans have humiliated us enough. They are not Zionist, they are not true Jews, they are just defaming and ridiculing us.”

“I told you, I don’t like these Krauts. The sooner you catch them and send them back to the German lands…,” said Herzfeld.

“To be thrown into a volcano!” interjected comrade Denis.

“If the European people have the heart, why not? Anyway, the sooner you catch them, the better,” Herzfeld concluded.

***

“What do you think, papa? Will they help us?”

“I think they will,” said Jean. “I ran the bio-video by comrade Frédéric, he also thinks they are as ready for peace as they have ever been.”

“So, that should stop this equation between Zionism and Nazism or fascism that you did not want me to get caught in?”

“Yes, and I did not think you would try to tackle it in such straightforward a way.” Jean laughed, proud of his son.

“Well, comrade Faroukh will do the theory, won’t he?”

“That is true. Let’s hope that by the time his university entry project, Intifada – Antifada, comes on, there will be even fewer grounds for even raising this issue. Now let’s think about our Sumud flotilla. How many boats does it have so far?”

7) The Revolutionary Sumud Flotilla

Attack against the Revolutionary Sumud Flotilla, by Laurence and Emmanuel

How dare you?

“We’ll have many boats, and from all corners of the world. So, if all of them sailed all the way from their home region, gathering the flotilla would take longer than we can wait for. So, we have decided to fit all of them out in Marseille, and the mixed brigades from all over the world shall meet there,” comrade Patrick, who as one of the editors of l’Huma received all status reports on the flotilla from the whole world over, explained intraline from Illyria.

“Oh, that means that the Prairie Indians and their farmer and trapper friends won’t be able to come in a canoe, will they?” asked Jean-Saïd, a bit disappointed, but comrade Malik, son of comrade Michelle and expert on the prairies, was able to calm him down.

“No, the canoes, two of them, actually, will be built in Marseille according to the measures they give us, and so as to withstand the Mediterranean waves, don’t worry!” “Farmers John and Rory will come, trappers Kévin and Jordan, and comrades Mazanape, Tatanka-Ha, Wagmu-Chikala and Ehawee for the Sioux.” “That’s great,” Jean-Saïd clapped his hands and danced around. “That is one mixed brigade already quite to my specifications.” He had reasons to be proud, not only was the brigade ethnically and professionally mixed, but comrade Ehawee was trans. She, originally he, had been raped as a young boy by Jeffrey Ebwasser and consorts, and had decided to become a woman. Wagmu-Chikala had agreed to bear her child with Tatanka-Ha aside from her own with Mazanape.”

“Are Chayton and Mato coming with them?” “No, Tashunka Thathe, medicine (wo)man will take care of them. But they will bring a falcon and a young bear to represent them.”

“We wanted to bring a buffalo baby,” Wagmu Chikala piped up from the transatlantic ferry. “But it would have been an ordeal for him or her already on the train, let alone on the ferry, so we brought Mato and Chayton instead. They are small, if they get too excited, we can have Mato on our laps and carry Chayton on our shoulders. That way, they’ll feel safe.” “Are your farms going to be alright, farmers John and Rory?” “Oh yes, our sons Jamie and Tony will take care of them together with their mothers, and our Indian and trapper friends can help them as well.” “That’s great, see you soon!”

“What about the South Americans?” asked Jean. “You had some troubles if not with ethnic conflict but with hierarchy building and under-cover capitalists? Were you able to put together a stable mixed brigade?”  “Yes, we did,” said comrade Ramón. “Comrade Diego and I decided to come ourselves, so we can speak up in our self-defence. And we are bringing comrades Juan and Juanita, still proud owners of a state of the art wind-mill. It will work even in their absence. That’s for the sierra people.” “And we shall come up from the pampa, and run a hierarchy check on you if needed,” comrade Mani sent a picture of him, Chuchau, and Taruca grinning. “And we Amazonian people fitted them with a toucan to represent us.” “And we Andean people with a lama!” added comrade Evo. “And we pampa are also bringing a baby Tyrannosaurus, to bite the Nazis if they have the gall to turn up.”

“That’s great. We Africans shall not bring any white exploiters, because that would be too much of an honour to them, and unfortunately, nobody from South and Central Africa, just because it would have taken too long. Anyway Enzokuhle and Okuhle are already with you, aren’t they?” “Yes, they are.”  “And you need these peacemakers to arrive fast, we understand?”

“Yes, very fast,” admitted Jean-Saïd. “Because we shall be leaving soon for Natalie’s project, we’ll have to get back for the start of university by the beginning of March at the latest, and we are still looking for the Second Kraut brigade.”

“No problem. We shall have many boats with mixed brigades from North Africa, including one from the Desmond Tutu cooperative in Djibouti, including me, Dileita, my wife Aisha, as well as your friends Moumin, Ali, and Ismael.” “And one from us at the Nelson Mandela cooperative on Lake Chad, including me Sosthene, my first wife Khadidja, and comrades Oueddei and Amir. And we shall bring seeds, as well as a small camel and one small dino, your friend Megapno. He promised not to eat anyone, except maybe members of the Kraut brigade.”

“All of Asia wanted to come, and that would have aggrandised the dimensions of the flotilla beyond all imaginable dimensions, so we friends of Illyria decided on just two, but very well sorted brigades, comrades Junfeng and Xiaomi from the Almond Tree Brigade in Beijing, Clarence and Padma from the Ghandi 2.1 cooperative in Mumbai and Kolkata, Toshi and Mayumi from Japan, Hee Jin and Kim from Korea, Nyugen and Dong from Vietnam, Pak Pao and her papa Rom Ran from Thailand, and Santoso and Jamilah from Indonesia. We were all colonised people before the revolution, and yet we fought amongst each other, so we are exactly like the Jews and the Palestinians.

“And we have comrades from Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, and the ex-Emirates coming on several boats via Egypt,” comrades Ahmed and Hassan spoke up from Damaskus. “We decided to stay here in case the Nazi felons want to flee and do more havoc here while you are  busy with the fleet. We shall give them a warm welcome.”

“We have many boats from Europe as well, obviously, too many to mention each and every one by name,” comrade Marcello spoke up from Rome. “Yet whenever a new boat gets under way from Marseille or any other Mediterranean harbour, a church bell rings here in Rome. Then we check intraline who of our comrades, friends and revolutionary barter correspondents, for instance, friends of Illyria, may be on it. There, listen! Ah, it’s a boat from England, and Jeremy and his son Basty are on it, and comrades Andres, his wife Wuzhuo and son Mao got on in Barcelona.

“We are coming as well, even if you don’t have us on your radar, Maksim, Zhenya, Danya, Volya-Buffalohuman and Tolya, the buffalohumans, Temujin, the Mongol, and Botur Jr., the young Yakut comrade.”

“Cheerio!” yelled Liubko and Volya-Ukrainian at Red Palestine. “We were missing you already.”

“We shall sail from the Black Sea. We are bringing a bear, a snow owl, and a Kileskus for the haproid dimension, don’t worry.”

“I can fly,” the Kileskus reported very proudly in nature language. “So, I won’t take too much space. And I am good at catching fascos. I almost arrested Pappberger and consorts on my own once already.”

“Yes, Kileskus, we are happy to have you. And we shall pick up Erkan and Işil on the way!”

“And then, of course, there is our second Illyrian brigade coming your way. “Comrades Mina, Hélène, Laurent, Frédéric, Jean-Wadi, Maher, and Danièle – she is still a bit young for the perilous journey, I am afraid, but she insisted on joining up with comrade Olivier, and taking care of the animals.” “We are bringing a small dinosaur, Canardia,” Danièle piped up, “as well as a cock, because it is internationally a symbol of the French lands, a cow, a sheep, and a few of the Illyrian recycling hounds, I don’t remember which ones…”

“And there are more Illyrians coming on different boats, don’t worry,” concluded Jean-Saïd. “For instance, Pierre le Gars and Égale will be on one of several Irish boats bringing mixed brigades consisting of different Irish people.”

***

They were about half-way through their journey, had sailed past Sicily and were now South of the Peloponnesian  peninsula. “F.u.c.k., what is that…? I hope it’s not the Krauts trying to take us for a ride.” Indeed, huge storm clouds were piling up towards the West.

“Is that normal?” “It’s normal for the season, it’s not weather warfare, but it’s not good either. It could even be a small medicane.”

Now a small boat was sailing towards Red Illyria from the Peloponnesian shore. The waves were tossing it about, and they had already watered Red Illyria’s rescue boat, called Fabien after their driver-friend at the revolutionary logistics organisation, Logistique Yvelines. Yet then it hooked on, and over the railing climbed… three comrades they knew very well, Dimitris, Konstantina, and their son Yanis, who was 15, two years younger than Jean-Saïd and Olivier.

“May we travel with you? We brought an Athenian owl as well for good luck.”

The storm kept them under deck for almost a day. It brought not only gusts, heavy waves, icy rain, and even leakages in some of the ships, but also trouble with supplies. When the weather finally calmed down and temperatures were back to normal, 17 degrees, they set full sails and even started the solar powered batteries for some extra mileage.

Two more days, and they were in sight of the shore. They expected other revolutionary sail and solar-powered boats to come and greet them, maybe bring some fresh fruit and vegetables. However, what they saw instead made them shiver with horror. It seemed literally as if Palestine had been conquered by the Neonazis. At least a dozen big grey battle ships were lying in waiting and some of them  were even advancing towards them.

Comrade Frédéric made a bio-video and stored it on his new plushbot, which looked like a small tablet, not much larger than a pre-revolutionary smart phone, and was in the form of a peace dove. “So, that’s for posterity. This better be clownery, otherwise, I don’t know. Comrade Jean, Illyrian Palestine brigade One, are you intraline?”

Comrade Danièle theatrically positioned herself at the railing and imitated Greta Thunberg: “I should not be here, I should be at school. I am just a small girl, but you capitalists-chauvies are forcing me to travel for peace and ecology. How dare you threaten us this way?”

Comrade Laurent was intraline with his partner Véro who put him intraline with Illyria’s two terrorism experts, Jérôme, expert on digital terrorism, and Michel Wang, expert on biological and medical terrorism. “Oh, they are not all real,” said Jérôme. “Some of them are definitely holograms. You know like the towers and the airplane piercing them on 9/11?”

“I don’t believe it!” said Laurent.

“These ships are not even the worst in their arsenal. In fact, they are relatively small, corvettes only.  And even the real ones will be old wrecks, just hastily fitted out for the occasion, and they are bound not to have much ammunition, although there are some rumours that they are carrying submarines.”

“Submarines?” awed Laurent. “But where would they come from?”

Now comrade Jean-Saïd chimed in as well: “ Comrade Aaron Schiff promised us the other day that he wouldn’t produce any more weapons, so did comrades Marshall Herzfeld and Evsey Vogelsang.”

“Well, there aren’t any drones in the sky yet,” joked Jean-Vladimir, but nobody laughed.

“Wait, comrades!” said Jean. “I’ll bio-call them.” Within seconds, they had the whole trio assembled in a bio-call conference. “We have nothing to do with it,” said Evsey. “ I speak also for you, Marshall Herzfeld and Aaron Schiff, don’t I?”

“Definitely, I’d rather build a cage for these Neonazis rather than scare you, my good comrades,” Marshall added.

“I gave you my word,” said Aaron, ship-builder.

“We are elephants, “ Evsey continued. “We remember everything we said.  And we’d rather go to the elephant cemetery than pact with these Nazis, Boches, Krauts, fascos, whatever you call them.”

“D’accord. Let’s call Elon Deer and Jeff Kiss then!” “Again, within seconds they had an intraline connection to the provincial rehab workshop close to the Côte d’Azur where Deer and Kiss were working these days.

“Not my make,” Deer shook his head. “And not Matvei Rybakov’s either.” He was referring to the ship producer among the Russian Big Animals who had recently started rehabilitation home in the Russian lands as well.

“Just for safety’s sake, I’ll call him as well,” said Zelim, the Chechen, who had been instrumental in getting the Russians to switch sides.

“Elon and Jeff, do you know of anybody in the ex-U.S. who would still have the wharf and other facilities to build or refurbish such ships and send them to Palestine?” Elon just shook his head and mouthed: “Rheinmetall…”

“The logistical bit interests me,” said Jeff. “I suggest you ask the seagulls on the way from Hamburg to Gibraltar and the storm petrels over the Mediterranean whether they have seen anything!”

The situation escalates

The Situation escalates, by Faroukh and Sarah

“We are on the train to Yafo, all seven of us. We were only going to come tomorrow morning, to pick you up when you land. And Jean-Saïd had all these plans for taking you out to the desert for a further trial run of the yellow transport beam tomorrow morning already. I said, wait, maybe mamon and the others will need some rest, but the situation being as it is, we thought we better make tracks.”

“We have Elon and the Trio intraline for some further ideas of what they might have in mind…”

“As for the holograms, if it is really holograms,” said Elon. “I have researched those, although I haven’t produced any myself. First of all, you cannot have the hologrammed ships moving or at least not over a large distance, so you already know that any coming your way must be real ones.”

“So far, that’s only two!” said Laurent.

“That’s a relief. Second, making a hologram takes lots of energy, and I do mean lots. So, check your block energy works, at least some of them must be losing lots of energy. I mean, how else would they do it? They have got to sap the central grid somewhere!”

“It’s rumoured that they have nuclear plants somewhere,” said Aaron- friend of Jason, usually also at the triangle, but now sitting with Josh and Jason in his parents’ apartment in Tel Aviv considering scenarios.

“We have news from our comrades sea birds. Merde, some have seen big grey ships off the Dutch coast, the Belgian, the French, the Portuguese, the Spanish, Moroccan, Algerian, Tunisian, Libyan, and Egyptian. How many of them? Some say three, some say five, some say, seven corvettes… So, at least three must be real, and possible even the whole lot of them.”

“D’accord, so let’s think. Who is there to help them? Presumably the Second Kraut brigade as well as some gong-ho Zionists or Palestinian crypto-capitalists. Who might that be?”

“Can’t think of anyone off the top of my head,” said Leo Goldwing, who had popped up intraline to assure them that none of his planes had gone missing – at least not so far.

“Neither can I!” said Saïd Nashef, a rumoured Palestinian  big-time crypto-oligarch, into high-tech, including robotics and intranet, whom Yassir-transport beamer had dug out.  “There is only me and I am with the revolution.”

“What do you do with all your crypto?” asked Ihsan.

“I put it into research,” Nashef shrugged. “You want  to test synthetic neuro-transmitters, the Racah against the Illyrian ones? I can get ex-Deer or ex-Doors build you specialised testing equipment.”

“Let’s talk about it later!” said Ruth, brigadier of the day of the Transport Beam brigade. “You really have no idea of any Palestinians collaborating with this fasco clique?”

“Absolutely nada,” Nashef nodded to himself. “I mean, young comrade, you have been in team with these four young princes…” Apparently, he gauged Jean-Saïd to be Palestinian, “for ages now. You know most Palestinians are above reproach, over 95 percent, wouldn’t you say?”

“Then let us assume it is really just the ten Krauts in charge of this operation, with Pappberger and consort councilling them from prison in Chechnia…Wait, that gives me an idea,” Jean interrupted himself. “Ramzan, Abukhan, Islambek, Bulat, Deki, Tamerlan, and Temirbek, anyone of you not too busy with the cattle and ready to talk?”

“Yes,” said Deki, “I am doing guard duty. I am sitting with the kids playing Starlit Odyssey intraline. Let me check with the prison!” He was back within minutes. “You haven’t sighted any spy towers poking out of the water, have you? Only those big ships. Because they have had a conference-call, Pappberger, Merz, le Merc, Killingbeil, and Pistazius, but that was all about submarines. Le Merc asked: ‘Have those frigates arrived with the subs?’ Oh, bezoar fuck, that is probably what he meant by frigates, these ships? Me being a landlubber myself wouldn’t know. And there was an answer, also in German that they have. So if you see any spy towers poking out, they are probably from some small submarines, more like drones that they want to launch from these frigates or corvettes, whatever.”

“Any way we can check for that?” Jean was just asking, then they heard Hélène and Mina gasp, Danièle shriek, and the others, including Dimitris, Konstantina, and Yanis swear.

“I think one has just rammed us,” said Maher. Then the Illyrians heard another shriek.

“What is it, another one?” “No,” Jean-Wadi was almost laughing despite all the tension. “It’s a Kileskus. The Russian comrades must be close, and it has fished out a sub for us. Look!” And he sent them a video of a Kileskus showing himself proudly on board the Krasnyi Novgornyi with something like a drone in his fangs. The mini-sub was almost as big as himself.

Kileskus saves the day, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

“Glad you survived it!” Deki said dryly. “Anyway, one last thing. Before they ended the call, Pappberger said to thank two guys in Hamburg, probably the ones who built the ships, or at least assembled them and put them on the water, Ernst and Eberhardt, or something?”

“These subs must be blocking our intranet and they themselves must be on some kind of intranet akin to it,” said Jean-Wadi. “Lucky, I got my intranet gauge. Look, 95%, now it’s 90%, 85%, 80% … I think we have another one approaching. Let’s just ask our friend the fish whether they can give us exact coordinates. Here is Stripy, the striped dolphin.”

“I can sense at least seventeen of them. They feel like death!”

“That’s because they are!” said Maher. “Look, can you and your comrades apply bronze beam?”

“You know how it works,” added Jean-Wadi in nature-speak, that is simplified nature language. “You just focus intensely on the sub, then think ‘We want you to sink!’ And then they should be just going down to the bottom, never to return, as you will have drained them of all their energy.”

“No problem, Jean-Wadi and Maher, co-discoverers of nature language,” whistled the dolphins. “There are about thirty of us. Just wait, in between them we should get them. We leave the line open, so you can help us should we get into distress…”

“D’accord, if you do, the boat closest will just ram into the sub in turn. In that case just try to get out of the way as soon as you can.” For a while they heard nothing but clicks and codas, then some whistles, and finally, a happy outburst of pulse sounds. “Look, we got them! And they bio-messaged, lo and behold, seventeen pictures of subs at the bottom of the sea, never to return, as Jean-Wadi had put it.

Saved by the striped dolphins, by Olivier and Danièle

“That was lucky,” sighed Frédéric. “For a moment I thought we had to do with a real wonder weapon.”

“They may have more!” Saïd-Illyrian was worried. “By the way, we have almost arrived in Yafo now. We’ll go straight to the harbour. I wonder, is there a way to intercept their communications? I mean, corvettes have at least 40 crew members, with a dozen of them we should have around 500 people chatting. Can’t we hear what they have to say for themselves?”

The first line they intercepted was: “Sweetheart, it’s boring.” The second by another blogger: “Bully to them, they just downed most of our subs.”

“Get at this last one!” Frédéric shouted excitedly. “Mind you, at the other one as well. Ask them, are they a self-managed vessel?”

“Don’t tell us, you are paid in crypto-shekel or token you can’t use anywhere,” Jean-Wadi passed directly to implementing Frédéric’s suggestion, “whereas at your local revolutionary markets and share points everything is free. And when travelling, you’d just present your home village ID. Are you up for a hi-hi and math check as my little brother calls them?”

“How many of these forty on each ship are even likely to be rabid counter-revolutionaries? One, two, five at most, the others can overpower them and bingo!” Frédéric rambled on, still not quite sure the young revolutionaries were really taking his advice. After all, he was reputed to be the baddy, the one camouflaged Zionist at Illyria! Yet then again, Jean-Wadi and Maher were Jean’s sons, Jean respected him, and his two partners, Mina and Hélène were close.

“Don’t worry!” said Mina, his former star student until she had met Jean and remained his forever. “Our sons are doing the business.”

“Tell them: I want you to turn off the engine!” said Jean-Wadi. Frédéric couldn’t believe his ears. Now the Nazi mercs were taking orders from the young Illyrians.

“And then you might raise a red flag!” added Maher casually as if he had read Frédéric’s mind. “That way, we in the flotilla and those on land will know you mean no harm.”

***

“Revolution on board the Gray Ships!” titled Haaretz, “Counter-revolutionary officers give up, revolutionary sailors take over!” did the story read on Maki, the intranet page of the Palestine Communist party. Peaceful boats bringing fresh food were allowed on the sea again and helped out the starving flotilla. By the next morning, the Yafo harbour was open for landing. Every ship received a number and one after the other landed at a quay, allowed its passengers to disembark, then withdrew again from the quay to anchor at a safe distance, waiting for its passengers to reembark. If there had not been peace and counter-revolutionaries had been able to disturb the calm, quiet and self-organised procedure that was needed, there might have been unimaginable injuries, death, material damage to ships and other things.

 “We were extremely lucky. Without our comrade, the Kileskus, and the revolutionary dolphins and sailors we would not have made it!” Jean told the comrades at the triangle of cooperatives over dinner. Yet next morning already, the work on beating the fascos had to continue.

8) Lovebots versus Nuclear

The Nuclear Demon, by Maher and Karla

The Nuclear Demon

“Papa,” Jean-Saïd said in the morning when the fourteen  Illyrians were sitting over breakfast on the lawn with the Red Palestine comrades. They were just waiting for the other six members of the Transport Beam to arrive from the train on Abdallah’s transporter to go to the testing grounds. “I think they want to nuke us!”

“What gives you that idea?” “You see, I took Maher and Jean-Wadi out to the testing ground last night.”

“How did you get there?” asked Jean, apparently calm, yet his sons noticed he was getting angry.

“By yellow beam,” Jean-Wadi blushed. “Maher and I can do it after all.”

“It is not about being able to do it!” Jean got up and almost shouted at them. “It is about making it safe.”

“Well, that was the point,” said Maher after their papa had calmed down a bit. “I had my radiation gauge with me. I even had it in my backpack because I had taken it out of my big case in order to find out whether the mini-subs were nuclear maybe. Remember, we examined the sub that Kileskus brought up? Well, they weren’t nuclear subs, but that doesn’t mean that they couldn’t be run on a nuclear-powered battery. I also had my chemical testing gear with me. After all, you had the attack there the other day, and I wanted to check whether there were traces of chemicals in the air. There were, but no longer all that pronounced. I also brought the debris gauge with me from Illyria, for traces in the body, and I examined Jean-Saïd last night at home when we got back. He is strong, no need to worry, but he hasn’t gotten rid of them entirely yet. I found touches of Chlorine, Sarin, Lewisite, Cyanogen chloride, and Adamsite, all of them, as well as the nanobots that carried them. Yet that’s another story. While we were at the site, I also pulled out the nuclear gauge, just for the heck of it. I was quite sure there would not be any nuclear contamination, because Jean-Vladimir had said the DU ammunition workshop and also the drone launch station were  in the other direction. But papa and comrades, you would not believe it, there was rather significant nuclear contamination in the air, as if from recent exposure.”

“How much?” asked Jean, now barely able to look his boys into the eyes.

“Well, 370 terabecquerel, about as much as in our nuclear lab at Institut Galilée. If we had been there, we would have to wear heavy protective clothing.”

At this moment, Alon, Yassir and the others arrived in Abdallah’s transporter, cheerful, still reliving yesterday’s triumph over the hostile subs and corvettes. At first, they did not know why everybody looked pale and scared.

“Isn’t there still another site to run the tests on?” asked Rodion, assuagingly.

“Yes, of course,” said Jean-Saïd. “Only on this one, we have already demarcated the trajectories, a straight-line, somewhat longer distance one, a curved one, and a hilly one.”

“Are you in agreement with me that these tests can wait?” Jean asked hoarsely, and after a brief look at his mamon, Mina, and comrade Hélène who nodded encouragingly, Jean-Saïd gave in and turned to his six comrades. “We checked the site and it seems there is nuclear contamination, believe it or not. My papa, comrade Jean thinks that’s another attempt at sabotaging our tests and suggests to interrupt them until we have found out what’s behind this radiation.”

“All I know is that there are only two old nuclear sites left in Palestine, one near Dimona and one near Soreq,” said Alon. “The closer one is Dimona. But I don’t think radiation would spread that far even if the site were active. And as far as I know, it has been decommissioned since the revolution.”

The Illyrian animals, the cow, the sheep, the dogs, the cock, and Canardia, the dinosaur were close by, chatting in nature language with their Red Palestine comrades. The latter had never seen a dinosaur before. So, they sniffed at  Canardia and made it tell the story of how it had arrived in the French lands through the time tunnel. And then how together with other animals and dinos it had helped the Illyrians overcome the blue pulse and had been engaged as a live wifi tower, a help in deconstruction-reconstruction, and a pillar against the fascos ever since.

“Are you all alone there or can you get your relatives from the past?” asked a Red Palestine cow. “I think I can get my relatives to come over,” said Canardia. “If not I’ll just marry the cock. I miss the other dinos as well. I mean they look a bit different, yet we have the fact in common that we have all come up from the distant past at least 66 million years ago to help the humans and other animals get along. Yet they don’t always like us. Some of us are too big, and others eat too much…”

“How many dinos have come along on the flotilla?” “Well at least two brigades,” said Jean-Wadi after checking on the intranet. “Canardia, two Tyrannosauruses – one Argentinian  and one Chinese Dilong –, one Kileskus, one Coelo,  one Stego, and all the African dinos – Megapno,  Afro, Carchar, Lurdo, Spino, and Cetio. Our Chad friends only brought Megapno but other boats must have taken their dinos to show off with their mixed haproid assemblies. We also had some prehistoric animals, that means from before the last ice age, mammoths, glyptodonts, smilodons, and sloths on board the flotilla.”

“Yeah, call them as well. They should all get underway and we humans should assist them in getting to the underground nuclear plant at Dimona. Let’s not tell everyone what it is about. Just tell them that we want to call a haproid assembly in Dimona.”

“D’accord. We can’t all go there. Let’s say the transport beam brigade goes, plus me and comrade Saïd!”

Olivier made a disappointed face. “You can be our 24-hour liaison at Red Palestine together with comrade Danièle,” Jean consoled him. “Think about it, she would be worried stiff about you otherwise.” “You’ll also keep us Illyrians updated every second of the day,” comrade Patrick supported him from Illyria. “Your mother,” comrade Marianne, “is worried as well.”

“Comrade Rodion must come with us for security!” said Saïd.

“I speak fluent Hebrew and Arabic,” said Jean-Vladimir.

“One of us should go with you,” objected Laurent. “Maybe me, I am older and more expendable in case something really explodes.”

“Don’t tempt fate, papa! I go!” his son retorted.

“Comrade Maher and I are both intranet and physics experts,” argued Jean-Wadi. “We should be with you.” Natalie and Jean-Saïd exchanged meaningful looks.

“What is under this blanket?” asked Rodion when they were already on the way and threw it up, revealing Natalie giggling. “There I almost leaned against you!” Rodion grinned.

“We need her as a desert ecology expert!” explained Jean-Saïd. “She can speak nature language with the dinos. And if the Nazis want to commit suicide, she can warn them not to take the whole desert with them.”

“D’accord but you’ll keep with the vehicle until it’s safe,” said Jean. “Same goes for you, Jean-Wadi and Maher. You’ll come in later when we will be ready to install the lovebots.”

“So we’ll be eleven going in?” asked Rafiq, puzzled. “Why so many?”

“Eleven may be too few! You shall see!” said Maher thoughtfully. “We may have to go in with you after all.”

Self-managed  haproid work assembly at Dimona

Haproid workplace assembly at Dimona, by Olivier and Danièle

“So, down there is the old nuclear facility. It’s deserted,” said the local guide whom they had found at Dimona. “There is nobody there. I told you, it has been decommissioned since 2021, year of the world revolution, that’s twenty years ago.”

“Is this ambulance always standing there?”

“Wow,” said comrade Ali, and respect and admiration spread over his up to then placid face. “Let me ask in the village whether anybody knows anything about that.” He bio-messaged silently for a good while, crinkling his face, then he reported: “They arrived the day before yesterday, in the middle of the night. They said they were ex-nuclear engineers with the International Atomic Energy Agency. They showed some paperwork to prove that. They had been involved in the decommissioning of Dimona. One of them was sick with cancer. He wanted to see his old workplace one more time before he died. So, my comrade, Hussein, my name is Ali, drove them here with an ambulance. Yet according to his wife, Leenah, he has not come back. So, he must still be in there with them.” Ali shivered. “I hope nothing has happened to him. Leenah said she did not like these people, nine men and one women, at all. They were loud and vulgar!”

“I wonder why he even agreed to their request,” said Saïd, pretending to be puzzled.  

“Oh, they gave him some coins. You see, my friend, comrade Hussein, has a coin collection,” said comrade Ali. “He does not use their stuff as money, he is a good person, one of the best,” he hastened to add, “he just loves his coins, even as a boy already he loved them.”

Then after a while, when nobody said anything, he added: “What should we do? They may be armed, and if they are really nuclear engineers…? And even if they aren’t, Hussein could help them. Maybe we should just keep the place under observation.”

Now a small desert finch jumped on Natalie’s shoulder. “The dinos are behind the hill by your vehicle. What should they do? Should they start to dance?”

“Not yet. They are self-managed after all.  They will notice themselves when the time comes. First, we start the lovebots!”

And Jean-Saïd, Jean-Wadi, and Maher took out their plushbots and began to type. “Look,” Maher showed his father. “We are hooking up with their devices. I can see six smart phones, one laptop, one tablet, and two of them seem to have plushbots already.”

“Plus…,” added his older brother. “Look at these signals here. MAIN, and another one HEAD, these are probably the computer servers of the nuclear station. We need to install the lovebots on these two first, then on the others to prevent recapture. Then we’ll be laughing.”

“So, explain to us again how these work, Jean-Saïd!” asked Boaz. “I myself am more of a biochemist than a computer expert.”

“We’ll send them the lovebots. It used to be that a human needed to open his or her email for their devices to be infiltrated. Maybe you have heard of the love virus? Yet these days, even before the revolution, most messages get first opened by AI agents. If ever that does not work, we can hack their devices…”

“Do that right away!” said Jean. “Time is of the essence.”

Immediately, Jean-Wadi’s and Maher’s computer showed strange-looking interfaces, but when the two wizards clicked some buttons, they got into a normal post-office.

“How come they are not password secured?” asked Ali.

“Oh, we by-passed that stage. They have both systems on, which in itself is a bad sign of course, because if the facility has been decommissioned, why are they on?”

“Probably they got them on with Hussein’s help, and are trying to launch the reactor!” Ali pulled his hair. “That is terrible. We are all in mortal danger!”

“Not if the lovebots succeed.  D’accord, now I’ve opened your mail on MAIN and HEAD, Jean-Wadi. Within seconds, we should get a reaction now. Indeed, all of their devices now showed a screen which read: This OP,” that refers to their fasco Selfmade operating programme, “has been deemed unsafe by over 99,9% of village assemblies world-wide. Do you want to install One World instead? That’s the Recommended Action.”

“What if they don’t do it?” wailed Ali. “They are capitalist swine after all.”

“Then we may be able to do an override from here. But look!”

Without them even having touched any buttons, Jean-Wadi and Maher’s devices restarted with the strange interface, but with the familiar One World taskbar. At the same time, a bio-video appeared in their minds. They saw a man, Ali’s age, behind a desk-top monitor and keyboard, typing away and bio-messaging at the same time.  “Ali, is that you? I am a prisoner here. They are criminals…”

Around him  were standing the ten well-known figures they already knew from the shaky bio-videos on board ship, at Ayalon Logistics, the sports school, and the night club.

“What’s happening?”

“I had to change operating programme. The old one is out of date,” the Illyrians and Transport Beam brigades could barely hear comrade Hussein explain things softly to the Nazis. He seemed to be almost choking with fear. “Now here we go!” He pretended to be succeeding. It asks me whether the procedure is safe. I say ‘Yes.’”

“Hooray!” Jean-Wadi yelled, giving Maher the high-five. “He fooled them. He said yes to installing moral protocol. He probably knew that from home, his or his kids old laptop or new grow-up-with-you harpoid and plushbot. That means that from now on everything they ask him to do will be checked against comrades Josip and Karla’s three revolutionary imperatives: “Do not do harm! Material check! Consider the best practice suggested by assembly meetings, surveys, and referendums world-wide!”

“But they can force Hussein to override that, can’t they?” asked Ali.

“Yes, but before they can override it, they will have to scroll through a long, long list of neighbourhood, village, and workplace assembly votes against nuclear, then surveys, then referendums, millions if not billions of lines,” explained Jean-Saïd. “Once they realise that, they might try to reinstall Selfmade. They might be able to download it if they still got the Enterprise browser, Aurora doesn’t offer it…”

“But you could override them from here, couldn’t you?” interrupted Ali who did not seem into technicalities.

“Yes,” said Jean. “But meanwhile, you and the four of us, Saïd, Rodion, Jean-Vladimir, and me will go ring the bell! You want to save your friend, don’t you?” Ali did not seem too eager, but steadied himself.

When Jean-Saïd and the other six Transport Beam brigade members got ready to get out of the transporter, Jean shook his head. Not yet. Only when we are at the gate. They will try to slam it into our faces. Then you suddenly appear behind us. And you, comrades Natalie, Jean-Wadi and Maher keep with the vehicle!”

“We are busy here!” said Hussein, when he opened the gate, behind him three figures with their faces fully covered with Pali scarves. He already wanted to slam the gate in their faces, when Jean and the others downed him and the three others with red beam. That was for Hussein’s protection of course. By the time he woke up, the facility would hopefully have been liberated. They ran over the front yard, with the Transport Beam brigade already close behind them, followed from a distance by Jean-Wadi and Maher with their plushbots in their hands churning away.

“Still turning out assembly votes!” shouted Maher, reassuring his father and the others that the felons inside had not yet been able to relaunch the reactor.  And another thing made Jean and the others smile. Behind Jean-Wadi and Maher the two Tyrannos, followed by other dinos were already coming down the hill, and on top of it they could see Natalie hopping up and down next to the transporter giving them directions or encouraging them at least.

That would make their escape rather difficult this time, Jean thought happily. He was still grinning, when he heard comrade Saïd who had meanwhile entered the main room talk to the five villains. “We suspect you of having contaminated the testing area of this Transport Beam brigade here first with chemical, and then even with nuclear material.”

“You were threatening our golden beam monopoly,” one of them, it seemed to be Klaus Newman, answered brazenly.

“Well, since you admit to the attack, I have a quorum here by the Racah Institute workplace assembly. We are here with two spontaneous militia brigades to arrest you.” Too late Jean noticed that there were only five of them in the room. Well, the dinos would get the other two if they hadn’t already.

The window pointing into the side yard was wide open. Rodion, Saïd, Alon, and Yassir were blocking it, while he, Jean, and the others were obstructing the escape via the front. Yet now, during the moment it took the Illyrians to prepare their red beams, the villains used brown beam already. Rodion and the other three were down before Jean and the others were able to throw their red beams.

Something was wrong! Maybe the residual static from the brown beams was obstructing them. Brown beams,  like golden beams used massive amounts of electro-magnetic radiation plus electrical energy. For a moment, all of them went blurry. When they came to, the villains had scrambled through the window and boarded the ambulance. They had even managed to pull in their three stunned colleagues at the gate. When our comrades ran back to the front, they could see the ambulance race up the hill already, barely avoiding several dinos. One of them, Megapno, managed to smash of their side windows and to leave a big scratch on Tino Kryptolla’s cheek.

“Can’t believe that they were able to stand up to our dinos!” And they did not, because now the wonder creatures had assembled in a band and begun to dance. They were not huge dinos, but comrade Cédric had given them the right rhythm, such that a small but noticeable earth quake ensued. The main reason for this stage of the strategy had been to prevent them from relaunching the reactor. In the middle of an earthquake even pre-revolutionary protocols would have shut down the process. Yet Josip’s lovebots had already prevented the relaunch. Would the dancing dinos be able to stall their vehicle? Yes, it stopped, with a burst tyre.

However, the villains did not give up. They ran for their capitalist lives throwing potentially lethal hate beams over their shoulder as they fled. “Stop!” yelled Rafiq who had taken over as one of the brigadiers together with Ruth. “Not worth dying from their hands!” “Not worth the lives of our animals either!” shouted Ruth. “Comrades, get them to stop!” Indeed the dinos, as well as the pre-historic animals, and also some present-day desert jackals were leaping after the Nazis. “Wait,” said Natalie in her normal voice. She knew you don’t have to shout with animals. “We’ll catch these monsters later, if need-be we’ll fine-comb all of Palestine. You jackals and other inhabitants of the desert, I can also see some vultures, can give us news on where they are. For now, we are done!”

9)Home on a yellow beam?

Drawing by the fake Alon and Ihsan, by Faroukh and Sarah

“We will help you!”

When Jean-Saïd opened his eyes, the sun was shining, but it was not the warm sun of Palestine, keeping the weather mild even in the middle of winter, it was the sun over chilly Illyria and when he looked around, he could even see some snow heaps on the ground. Apparently, he had landed on the lawn in front of the old farmhouse, that was good, but where was Uncle Saïd, and where were the others?

Now his mother, comrade Mina, bent over him from in back. Apparently, she had his head in her lap, that is why it felt so soft in his neck, like a cushion. “Welcome home, sweetheart!” she whispered and started to cry. “Never do this again!” he could hear his father’s stern voice next to her.

“Where is Uncle Saïd? Is he alright?” asked the boy. “When did you arrive?” “Your uncle is over there,” said Mina. “He arrived a few minutes before you.” A full twenty minutes it had been, but she would not tell him yet. The horrific story her brother had told would give her nightmares for many years to come. “He is alright. We arrived late last night with the train from Marseille. Literally all of Illyria was there to pick us up. The two of you arrived only a few hours later when we were having early breakfast this morning.” She tried to sound cheerful. “Now tell us what happened. One thing after the other.” Jean-Saïd himself had to force himself to recapitulate the story which made him appear like a reckless lazybone, to put it as mildly as possible. It had started with his idea not to return to Illyria immediately, but to stay behind for two more weeks to carry out some more tests of the transport beam and make sure the mixed brigade worked well even without extraordinary adversity serving to keep the comrades together. “Wait a minute, I also want to listen!” And comrade Natalie sidled up next to him.  His heart seemed to expand into an ocean of joy. He hugged her and kissed her. “I am so glad you waited for me. I feared you would be off to the Russian lands already.”

“Let’s get him inside!” his mother said, and the two of them supported him from both sides, then sat down at his sides on one of the sofas in the youth club. Rodion bedded Saïd on the couch opposite, then sat down to listen as well. Jean-Saïd’s papa pulled up a puffy cushion. “D’accord. We are listening!” he said hoarsely, but luckily it did not seem to be from anger. Jean-Saïd could see tears in his eyes.

He had to laugh, and decided to start the tale with something funny. They had worked late in the lab one night preparing the last round of tests, in a different location, of course, although still in the general vicinity of the triangle of cooperatives where they were going to sleep all seven of them at Palestinian Refoundation so as to save all the back and forth by train and transporter. Jean-Saïd had thought he had left the lab last, leaving everything in order, but when he turned back, he saw light in a window, so he went back. He opened the door, entered the main room and found Rafiq and Ruth standing there, kissing passionately, and actually already in the process of undressing each other. Jean-Saïd quickly retreated, locked the door and ran to the train, as he had wanted so as to prepare everything already at Red Palestine for the arrival of the other six transport beamers next day.  Hopefully, Rafiq and Ruth would make the early morning train after their wild night. And what would Boaz say? Did he know? So, all these voices about Ruth and Rafiq had contained a grain of truth, or had they?  It depended on when their thing had started. Or had Ruth and Rafiq just made love because of voices they had heard taunting them to do it? Yet lately, at least when he had been there, there definitely had been no voices in the lab, not this night, and not during the past week they had spent there testing the neurotransmitters. The tests over the next few days were going to be very important. They were going to test Jean-Saïd’s natural neurotransmitters carried by lovebots, in this case meaning nanobots made of bio-tissue, against synthetic ones made at Racah, and the latter either in ordinary medibots or Illyria’s lovebots made out of bio-tissue as well.

“A superior material!” comrade Assad intervened at this point. “I shall say more about them in my presentation on medibots.”

“What about the neurotransmitters that this Reinhart Fischer makes?” Jean-Saïd had asked at the brigade meeting. Ihsan had proposed to examine them under the microscope, but not to test them in action. They had adopted that proposal consensually, and it turned out to have been the right procedure, because the examination had revealed serious impurities as compared with the Illyrian original neurotransmitters and even the Racah synthetic ones.

“And what about that testing equipment that Nashef promised us?” asked Rafiq.

“We’ll get it,” promised Alon. “No need for comrade Jean-Saïd to stick around for it now.”

“Oh, but I’ve got some info,” Jean-Saïd was glad to have a line. “In fact, Elon Deer, the real Elon Deer who is rehabilitating close to the Côte d’Azur says he will assemble some and send it via comrade Nashef no problem. He promised my papa to do it for free.”

“That’s good!” Boaz sighed with relief. “Then Jerusalem Tech won’t have to fork out any crypto.”

Or, the worst scenario of all, had Rafiq and Ruth just played theatre to get his, Jean-Saïd’s goat? Well, then they had lost their time! He was not going to lose his sleep over one mixed Palestinian-Jewish couple more in this world.  When he got to this point in the story, his parents laughed. “I think they meant well, whichever scenario it was!” comrade Jean said, now tears of laughter in his eyes. “Continue!”

“Well, we did the tests. All went according to plan. The Illyrian natural neurotransmitters worked out just as well as the synthetic ones, and the lovebots a bit better than the ordinary medibots. So, we concluded a revolutionary barter agreement Illyrian lovebots against Racah synthetic neurotransmitters and planned for further mutual visits to test Elon Deer’s equipment and to make the yellow transport beam prove itself in ever more challenging tasks, especially over longer distances, over water, over mountains, in different temperatures, and so on.

“So, wait,” I said. “The long-distance beam record is still held by this guy who beamed himself from Beijing to Shanghai, 1200 km?”

“No, I heard it the other day from one of the Russian comrades who came with the Sumud harp flotilla.  The Russians have bested it. Moscow-Novosibirsk, over 3000 km. And they have done it several times already, in all kinds of weather. Why do you ask?” Boaz wanted to know.

“Oh, just interested.” To beam yourself from Moscow to Novosibirk was about the same distance as from Jerusalem to Paris, and Illyria was even 100 km to the South of Paris agglo, so the beam time would be reduced by that much.

“So, when will you be leaving then?” Rafiq asked.

“Tomorrow,” Jean-Saïd said. “And in fact, we’ll have to be superfast, comrade Saïd and I, because the others may already be home, actually, and comrade Natalie and I will leave for the Russian lands soon, for her project on regreening the taiga. I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

At night, when we were lying on our mattresses, comrade Saïd sat cross-legged next to me and whispered. “You want to go by beam, don’t you?”

“How did you guess?” “When you asked about the long- distance record. It was actually quite funny. Ruth and Boaz were holding hands, meanwhile Rafiq was touching her leg, and you were on about long-distance records.”

“’Well, are you up for it?’ I asked. And he said yes.” “Well, what could I have said?” interjected Saïd from his couch. “I couldn’t risk the young comrade, my nephew to boot, beaming himself over 3200 km alone, maybe into death.”

“Of course!” said Jean. “Then let’s listen to the story.”

“Yes, so next morning when comrade Abdallah had brought the whole Transport Beam brigade to the railway station, we said we couldn’t leave yet, we were already homesick for Palestine. We wanted to take one last walk in the desert. Then we told comrade Abdallah the truth, under seven seals of secrecy of course. He offered to drop us at a nice and quiet spot in the desert, not so close to the railway station. We said thank you. He stayed with us until we had summoned the beams, got on them with our bags and had begun to disintegrate. One thing about beam travel, you cannot look back, wave at people, blow them a last kiss. You are too busy summoning the beam, and while you are getting on it, you are already disassembling.

Then Saïd and I both heard voices, one sounded like Alon and the other like Ihsan. “That’s dangerous, comrades, what you are trying to do. Lucky, we spotted you intraline. We have an idea, we sent you an extra booster from Soreq, so you’ll get over the Mediterranean super-fast, because think about it, what about if there is a storm? We haven’t even  tested for beaming over water and in serious weather yet.”

“But how would you do it?” “Oh, we’ll just beam it up to you by willpower, a big ball of charges to roll into your beam and carry you forward. Like so!” And they sent a drawing.

 I was about to say yes, when I heard comrade’s Saïd warning bio-message:

“Stop it! That’s not them, and they are not  even revolutionaries. They say they want to send the booster from Soreq, that’s another one of their clandestine nuclear plants! If you can still reassemble, do it! With them fascos after us, we’d better take the ferry.

“But I couldn’t. I was trying to activate my oxytocin to reassemble, comrade Saïd and I had even taken some extra of all five of the main relevant neurotransmitters, even of gaba and serotonin, and of course dopamine, to make sure we had the necessary flexibility to restrain ourselves, or even go back, as the case may be, and also of oxytocin to reassemble. Yet precisely when I wanted to activate my oxytocin, mamon and Natalie popped up in my brain and said: ‘No, go, that way you’ll be home at the same time as us.’”

“I remember my sending you this bio-message,” nodded Natalie. “I got some kind of scrambled question,  ‘Do you want us to arrive at the same time as you, then I’ll have to proceed now?’  I did not really know what it related to, I just instinctively bio-messaged: ‘Proceed! Come as fast as you can!’”

“I remember the same, and then I thought, as long as they don’t try to come by beam!” said Mina.

“And we got this communication as well, of your exchange with these two impersonators, and you know what we did?” asked Rafiq. “We went out to Soreq, the six of us, with comrades Yassir-Red Palestine, Abdallah, Yitzhak, and Benzion and a few other comrades from the Triangle. We drove out to Soreq to see whether they had got you or we could get them. Yet by the time we had gotten there, they had already fled. “

Half-assembled!”

Half-assembled, by Natalie and Rodion

“It was them, the guards remembered a group of people looking exactly like our ten Nazis. They only said Scheuble had looked very weak. Two of the others had to support him.”

“So they had some help?”

“Definitely, and they seemed to be intraline. Otherwise they could not have contacted you.”

“Who let them into Soreq?”

“According to the guards, they or at least some of them must have gotten over the fence, then entered through a window, and they took one set of keys from a cupboard, probably to open the gate to the less nimble ones. And you know, they tried to launch the computers again, but without comrade Hussein’s aid they did not even get as far as in Dimona. Then finally, the night watch noticed the noise, entered, got a quorum of course, and the militia came as soon as it could.

“Yet as you can imagine, by the time the militia came, the night-watch was unconscious from brown beams and they were gone again.”

“We’ll get back to their case later. Jean-Saïd and Saïd, what happened then?”

“Well, everything went more or  less well, the whole journey did not take more than eighteen hours or so, but we got into a bit of a storm, right when we thought we were already almost home already.”

“We felt it as well,” interrupted Mina, “we were close to the shore already, approaching the port of Marseille. It wasn’t too bad, but one sail tore off,  it rained and got colder, and we had to go underdeck.”

“That must have been it. I remember a really cold and wet gust hitting me from the right and thinking, ow, I hope I haven’t lost a limb or broken it. So, a few hours later, when we began our reassembly process – you must have been at home already, maybe just getting up –, I feared I had lost my right side. Usually, whereas you experience a kind of crumbly feeling when you disassemble, you feel a healthy clicking when you reassemble. Then you know, ah, hooray, everything is reconnecting, parts are snapping into place again, soon I’ll be whole again. This time, nothing at all on the right side, and just more of a muscle ache and  joint pain on the left.”

“It’s true that when you arrived, we saw your left side first and then your right, but don’t worry, it was already in place. It probably just felt a bit more crumbly and disjointed still.”

“For a moment, I really thought, merde, I am only half-assembled. It must have been because of that gust. Then I passed out, and then, when I woke up, everything was alright. I was whole again. We must think of something against that, loss of corporeal integrity because of bad weather. Let me bio-message the comrades in Jerusalem!”

Postscript in Illyria and Saint-Denis and in the Triangle of Cooperatives

The 5^th International Brigade in January of Year 20, by Marius and Jean-Luc

“Anyway, my presentation on mixed brigades in Palestine is now more or less finished,”  concluded Jean-Saïd. “The process of rapprochement between the two hostile groups has maybe not altogether completed, but it has begun. It is even rather far advanced in many domains, and the main problem have been the Neonazis from Germany and the underground capitalists from other countries such as the Uberytes suggesting scams to a few unrepentant Zionist wreckers. Now, comrade Natalie, on to you.”

“Well, we certainly hope that the Kraut brigade has not fled to the Russian lands, because we would like to do a really thorough investigation of soil, air, and water quality, the state of deconstruction in the agglos as well as of old energy and industrial plants. And we want to confer with animals and plants in the harp on how we might speed up the process of reconquering the taiga for nature and truly protecting its trees in the future.”

“My topic, terrorism as the epitome of fascism has become clearer to me during this chase in Palestine,” said Olivier. “It is true that the class enemy or what remains of it has been getting ever more disparate and desperate over the last twenty years. Yet it is also true that they still have resources and that at least some of them are not yet willing to give up. And they have just recently managed to recruit a new generation of German felons to replace the old guard which is in prison now. We are convinced that we shall overcome, but we may take longer than we thought to get rid of the remaining terrorists and their sponsors.”

“My topic, ‘Back to the forest’ about life in nature, be it at a very high state of technology, will make us all dream,” promised Danièle. “How will we get there? Let’s question together!”

“My presentation will be about wonder-cattle which will feed, clothe, and cuddle us without any fascists left to bother us,” rejoiced Marius. “Les jours heureux! Happy days!”

“And I will speak about how to plan and check all we agree upon in our harp and haproid assemblies without money or any other instrument of exploitation!” concluded Jean-Luc. “But thanks for waiting a bit longer for Marius’ and my presentation. We decided to keep company to the young pioneers, Zamir on the metalmongers and Odile with the second volume of the kindergarden manifesto, who will be on in Year 24 of the Revolution only.”

The discussions and adventures of our comrades at Illyria, the Garden Colony, the Manouche camp, the neighbourhood assemblies Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove at 76 rue de Lorraine, Saint-Denis, and their comrades and friends world-wide shall continue in Life in Communism 2.1. Regreening the Taiga, From colour to red revolutions, Terrorism as the Epitome of Fascism, and Back to the forest. Stay tuned!

Map and Plan of our rural cooperative Illyria, Yvelines, and our neighbourhood assemblies Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove on 76 rue de Lorraine, Saint-Denis, State January of Year 20 of the Revolution during comrade Jean-Saïd’s  “Mixed Brigade”, there are 17 three-room apartments with the bedrooms occupied as follows, Young Revolutionaries marked in italics:

Map of Aimeran at the time of comrade Jean-Saïd’s presentation “Mixed Brigade”, in January of Year 20 of the Revolution, by Marius and Jean-Luc, 2021, Year of the World Revolution being Year Zero

	Apartments in the old Farmhouse Noah and Michelle Malik and Mao and baby Aisha Claudia and Miguel	Jana, Youssef, and Salma Anton and Monique Marius and Jean-Luc	Michel and Fabienne Pierre le Gars (Peter Gar) and Égale Yoga Room Ronggang and Quan
	Muhammed and Aini Hisham and Rim Bashir and Sevim and baby Asma, born in January of Year 20	Marie and Daniel Omsinbaba and Fofana Lulu and Maurice, and toddler Bouna	Arlette and Jérôme Karla and Maher, baby Soho Pléiades Room Jean-Vladimir and Adilah, and toddler Akila
	Patrick and Marianne Abram and Francine Olivier and Danièle	Youth Club   Che, Georgette, and toddler Salvador	Jean, Mina, and Hélène Laurent and Véro Zamir and Odile
Apartments above Robot Workshop Emilia, Robespierre, Sophie, and Pascal Lénina and Jean-Fidel, and baby Evo Alexandra and Jean-François and baby Max				Apartments above  the stables Denis and Laure Young Revolutionaries Room Jean-Saïd and Natalie
Danton Inès, and toddler Ramón Julie and Zelim-Philippe, and baby Giles to be born in April of Year 20 New Pléiades Room Assad, Kaltouma, and baby Nahel				Boris and Karima Jean-Wadi, Zafira, baby Sandrine Rashida and Seth,  baby Tahir
Philippe and Anisah Renée and Guillaume and baby Comet Aslan and Zamira
	Apartments above Clothes Workshop Alain and Bulan Félix and Leyla Saïd and Rodion	Georges and Jeanette Pierre and Marine Aleksei and Evgenia	Apartments above Furniture Workshop   Annie and Frédéric Léon and Martine Rosa, Josip, and baby Fabien	Camille and Zelim Sylvain and Nicole Guest Room

Red: House 1, Old Farmhouse; Dark Blue: House 2, Clothes workshop; Light Blue: House 3, Furniture workshop; Dark violet: House 4, Stables; Light violet: House 5, Robot workshop

Garden Colony and Manouche Camp

Garden Colony Louise, Tim, and Mélanie		Arthur and Huguette, daughter Françoise, and granddaughter Murielle
Raphaël, Jacqueline, Fabien, Catherine, their kids Cédric, and Charolaine Sabine, Charles, their kids Colin and Cécile		Misha, his partner Yvonne, his friend Cato, their young son Jean-Michel, and Misha’s mother Carla
The Cambodian martial arts Dan, In, Ayak, and Vit		Mireille, Marwan, and Zima, baby Tonyi
Bérénice and son Pierre		Raoul and Josetta, baby Evita
Manouche Camp
Django, Manou, their son Orel and his friends		Roman and family
Matthias, Céline, and baby Isabel

Neighbourhood Assemblies Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove at 76 rue de Lorraine, Saint-Denis

Luc, accountant at l’Humanité, wife, children, daughter Lucille, and grand-son Jean-Luc	Bertrand, works at l’Huma, Illyria and peace movement, and family	Clément, works at l’Huma, Illyria and anti-fake vax movement, and family
Sebastien, gardener, wife hairdresser, and family	Mathieu, concierge, wife post-office worker, and family	René, doctor for refugee children and family, daughter Sarah
Béa and François, Gabriel and Benoît, Repentant terrorists, now gardeners	Dominique, peace activist, and family, daughter Laurence	Aurélie, New Workshops, trade union activist, and family, son Emmanuel
Illyrians, their visitors, live and online	Rebecca, Marwan and son Faroukh	Pauline and Jacques, Pauline’s son Antoine and partner Murielle, and toddler Zac
Youth Club Casa Latina and Russki Dom Toddler Crèche	Homework club, All Pléiades, New Pléiades and Young revolutionaries	Marxism reading courses and adolescent and student hangout

Yellow: first floor, youth club; Green: second floor; Red: third floor; Blue: fourth floor, and violet: fifth floor. 2^nd and 3^rd floors: Casa Latina Russki Dom, 4^th and 5^th floor: Peace Dove.

Other works by Carla O’Gallchobhair that you will also enjoy:

Life in Communism 2.1. A Chechen Trilogy vol. 3 Red Chechnia, by Carla O’Gallchobhair.  This is how comrade Muhammed summarises the gist of it: “The progress Chechnia has made in all five dimensions of the revolution – democracy, economy, ecology, science, and culture – holds out the hope that the Chechen people will master not only the forces of nature and ecological reconstruction, but that we shall be able to prevent the decline of the underground oligarchs and their mercs into petty crime, convince the remaining fascos of the revolutionary truth, and assure all humans, animals, including time-travelled species such as dinosaurs, plants and intranet-capable things a happy life on earth without any jealousy.”

 Life in Communism 2.1. A Chechen Trilogy vol. 2 Liberating the Oligarchs, by Carla O’Gallchobhair.  How to free the capitalist oligarchs and their heirs from their own tyranny is the issue that preoccupies Zelim.

 Life In Communism 2.1. A Chechen Trilogy vol. 1 Another 2021, by Carla O’Gallchobhair. An Illyrian Chechen brigade is on the way to explore the long-term effects of the world revolution on Chechen democratic ways and ecology, including the harp and haproid assemblies, the economy, including the extent of free allocation and distribution, scientific and other educational and cultural progress, including harmless, low-frequency and  brain-to-brain intranet and bio-wifi, and security, specifically the fight against the ex-oligarchs, their mercs and their rabble-rousing. Comrades Aslan, Zelim, and Muhammed want to ask their fellow Chechens about the state of things to see what might have gone right, or alternatively, wrong with the revolution. Yet as they start the Caucasus begins to grumble. The counter-revolutionaries are using mud slides and EMR emitters to further their attempt at upsetting the people, blocking intranet, bio-wifi, harp and haproid assemblies… and the revolution as a whole.

 Life in Communism 2.1. Animal lives matter. Plant lives triumph, by Carla O’Gallchobhair. The reactionaries have managed to design a low frequency pulse weapon that will stop or corrupt the revolutionary red intranet and bio-wifi. Overcoming this latest challenge requires the young revolutionaries to learn better naturespeak and communicate better with animals and plants – and fast.

. Life in Communism 2.1. Revolution live Peter Gar’s Asymptomatic Leprechaunitis, by Carla O’Gallchobhair. A sleepy neighbourhood in Ireland in Year 18-19 of the World Revolution. Eighteen years after Covet and Buffalitis, another seasonal Coflu variant breaks out that the counter-revolutionary ex-capitalists and fascist Satanists use to sell dodgy vaccines against crypto-currency where money has in fact already been overcome and replaced by free allocation and distribution and sharing. Asymptomatic Leprechaunitis, where LEP stands for Lymphatic-Encephalitic-Pulmonary Syndrome, draws its specificity from its origins in Ireland and the hallucinations of Leprechauns that the virus or rather the toxic vaccine brings with it. The people already know about the vaccine fraud and have to be blackmailed and forced into taking the injection. And put off by xenophobia, bigotry, and latent violence, five New Irish families from China, India, South Africa, Syria, and Ukraine, their children and some of their friends decide to pack their bags and go to where their talents, work, and revolutionary fervour will be better appreciated. Unfortunately, they encounter counter-revolutionary terror ranging from well-poisoning to carpet-bombing. The Illyrians and other revolutionaries can help.

Life in Communism 2.1. vol. 42-46. What is to be done? What would Lenin have done differently if he were active today? He would have made sure that the revolution triumphs world-wide. He would have insisted on equality, self-management, and direct democracy at every step, working through the organisation of venues: brigade, neighbourhood, workplace, and village assemblies, constant material and hierarchy checks and surveys and, if needed, local, regional, continental, and world-wide surveys. He would have stood for radical de-urbanisation, regrowing, regreening, and respect of human, animal, plant, all living beings world-wide. He would have stood for the prevention of any further wars and armed conflicts by complete de-weaponisation world-wide, as well as blocks on re-weaponisation, and last but not least, he would not have cooperated with capitalists, let alone fascists under any circumstances. Back to Year 18 of the World Revolution of 2021! While the class enemy continues its Satanic work of undermining the revolution, e.g., by creating new gangs of terrorists such as the Critics, the Sons, the Anti-Nanobot League, and the Cryptoleak Avengers, kindling revolution in the ex-U.S., forcing the Rothschilds to bankroll them and returning Ursula van der Leihen or her look-alike from the executioner’s block to launch a new career as an ombudswoman, our comrades in Illyria and Saint-Denis have launched into a super-project: How to do the Communist revolution in the 21st century? In Book 1, young comrade Lénina details what is to be done and presents a revolutionary app that will help us plan things, in Book 2, senior comrade Marie analyses the strategy and processes of the Revolution in the Streets, in Book 3, young comrade Guillaume outlines how to do away with weapons as a prerequisite for conflict avoidance and peace on earth, in Book 4, young comrade Renée discusses how the four venues of the revolution (all institutions of the capitalist state and economy having been abolished), namely neighbourhood assemblies, brigades, workplace assemblies, and village assemblies can be saved from usurpation and sabotage by the ex-capitalist reactionaries, and in Book 5, senior comrade Denis analyses problems that have arisen after a referendum did away with the standing people’s militia, it being a den of incipient hierarchies and weaponisation.

Preview of Life in Communism 2.1. State of the Reconciliation, by Carla O’Gallchobhair. It is May of Year 15 of the Communist world revolution. Fascist ex-oligarchs from all over the world have come up with their most vicious plan yet: by spraying aerosols and toxins from stolen planes – already in the process of being refurbished as solar- or wind-driven planes as part of the ecological thrust of the revolution –, they have sabotaged the weather in Palestine so as to bring about a drought and ruin the harvest. Hunger and thirst are bound to wind up Palestinians and Jews, who had already made serious steps towards reconciliation, as comrade Jean-Vladimir’s research proves. And into the already volatile mood, the radioactive Depleted Uranium (DU) ammunition to be sold to both Palestinians and Jews against bogus crypto-currency. Jean-Vladimir wants to help find a solution to this worst-ever crisis of the revolution.

 Preview of Life in Communism 2.1. Problems at Zero Hours, by Carla O’Gallchobhair. It is Year 15 of the revolution, and it would seem we could continue in the tested venues of the revolution (brigades and assemblies), with its trusted tools such as the revolutionary apps, and with the thrusts of ecological reconstruction elaborated and many times reconfirmed by the people at assemblies and referendums. Yet the ex-capitalists and their fascist mercenaries continue to sow discord and destruction, and in her presentation, Mina explores case studies of how recurrent problems at zero hours have been handled by past Communist revolutions. It is Mina’s turn, and we might expect juicy revelations on life in her amorous triangle with Jean and Hélène as well as on her childhood experiences in the hell of the Palestinian conflict. Well, yes, but beyond that, we hear more about their Russian friends, the Moscow Recycling Hounds, and their research into the revolutionary experience of the descendants of the Old Pruzzen as well as the time travel contacts of comrades Georges, Patrick, Pierre, and Pierre le Gars during and after World War II in France. And while the discussions at Illyria and Saint-Denis go on, the fascists start a new round of their nefarious reactionary campaigning, once more in the Middle East.

Preview of Life in Communism 2.1. Revolution Means Peace, by Carla O’Gallchobhair. It is Year 15 after the Communist World Revolution of 2021. Yet for a moment, it looks as if the capitalist war over Ukraine, started in 2014 and ended only by the revolution and the people abolishing the bourgeois state world-wide, is about to resume. Comrade Frédéric, peace researcher at Sorbonne Nouvelle, paving new ground for the next generation of revolutionary peace scholars, is just presenting the outline of his thesis why and how revolution means peace, when his argument is put to a first test. A Ukrainian oligarch-sponsored movement demands the Return to the State, Povernennya Derzh (Vozvrat k gosudarstvu) and wants to restore capitalism and war right with it.

 Life in Communism 2.1. Conditions for Peace by Carla O’Gallchobhair .Through role-play, presentations and by simply following events, the comrades of Illyria and Saint-Denis determine conditions for lasting peace and cooperation between Palestinians and Israelis. Of course, the situation has already improved considerably as a result of the revolution. Government, defence forces, and borders have been abolished and replaced by work-place brigades and plenaries, as well as neighbourhood and village assemblies. Money has been abolished and replaced by a model that tends towards simple sharing. Red Palestine is a joint Israeli-Palestinian cooperative that makes it possible for people to work together and forget their prejudices. The root cause of the conflicts over women, land, water, distribution of goods, work and education lie in the continued obstruction and sabotage, as it turns out even nuclear blackmail, by the defunct capitalists.

Life in Communism 2.1. Chechen Trilogy

Vol. 1 Another 2021

By Carla O’Gallchobhair

© Carla O’Gallchobhair, 2025. To Maman, Cathal, Tanya, Evgeni and Maksim, Michael, Yvonne, Odile and Jean-Michel, Vicky and Nora, and all other believers in the Eastern promise.

Preface in Illyria and Saint-Denis. Another 2021. Yalla, yalla, let’s go!

October-November of Year 19, 2021, year of the World Revolution, being Year Zero

Aslan, by Olivier and Danièle

The night before our departure, I made a terrible nightmare. There had been no world revolution in 2021, no world-wide uprising against the toxic Covet-19 vaccine and the other repressive Covet policies, which had even included a discriminatory vaccine pass. It was already 2025, but all the old flunkies were still in charge: Donald J. Bimp in the U.S., Empress Ulla in Europe, King Emmanuel and his Macronie in the French lands, John Bonson as prime minister in Britain, Mick Mc Leary as top oligarch in Ireland, Fritz Merz, le Merc as chancellor in the German lands, and Nikolai Morbidov, the corrupt successor to Vladimir Neputin in the Russian lands. Donald J. Bimp, Jobo, Empress Ulla, King Emmanuel, and Fritz le Merc had just had one of their war-mongering conferences in their old oligarch hide-out in Zeebrugge, Belgian lands, or was it the Petersberg in the Seven Mountains on the Rhine over Bonn?  Anyway, they had agreed to step up the war in Ukraine against Russia, even if  it led to a third world war, and the genocide against Gazans even if it entailed the total annihilation of the Palestinian people and a conflagration in the whole Middle East. Gerardo Trilei, the illegitimate ultra-liberal president of Argentina as well as other stooges had already signalled their readiness to support capitalism until it caused a total Armageddon.

For the time being, only the Chechen people had said No. Comrade Ramzan and the other revolutionaries had resurfaced from the underground and were leading a march to the presidential palace of the pro-American Chechen president Akhmed Zakayev, who had pledged support to King Emmanuel, President Bimp, Empress Ulla, Jobo, Mick McLeary, Fritz le Merc and Co. in their unjust, imperialist war against Russia.

Zelim, by Zelim-Philippe and Julie

Zelim, Muhammed, and I were in the French lands and trying to convince the old PCF executive committee or Cellule 14 comrades, who these days were either Illyrians, meaning part of our self-managed, rural cooperative near the little agglo(-meration) of Aimeran, Yvelines, or part of the neighbourhood assemblies Casa Latina, Russki Dom, Peace Dove at number 76 rue de Lorraine in Saint-Denis to organise similar marches to the Elysée, Matignon, the Assemblée nationale, the Hôtel de Ville, other organs of government and company executives all over the French lands. They had agreed of course and were now blocking all these places and others as we had done in reality during Covet.

We had just received encouraging videos from Berlin and Moscow, where similar rallies were underway as well. Comrade Misha who had taken the train from Illyria to help out in his old agglo, had made the videos from Berlin, comrade Sergei and the other Moscow and Novgornyi Recycling Hounds the ones from Moscow. Some of them were also protesting against the war in Leningrad-St. Petersburg, Kaliningrad, and other Russian cities.

However, no matter how we tried to agitate, in this nightmare, the momentum was not there. We tried it not only live and online, but also intraline – meaning the informal way of communication of the revolution via low-frequency neural waves, and bio-wifi. Humans, animals, robots, plants and intranet-capable materials and things could serve as natural wifi-towers and cables! Yet we just weren’t able to mobilise the millions we had gotten out for the real revolution in 2021. The Chechens, the French, other Europeans, the Berliners, the Russians, and also the Palestinians, the New Yorkers and other American agglo residents and also the North American Indians and Indios in the prairies and pampas who were rooting for a sweeping ecological revolution, the Chinese, the subcontinental Indians, many Africans and Middle Eastern agglo inhabitants protesting imperialism, had mobilised, and yet… “They have bribed the police to fight us to the kill!” came the panicked bio-messages from everywhere. Instead of being convinced by our arguments and our funny, yet peaceful clowns like in 2021, the police and army had struck back everywhere with tear gas and clubs and intimidated us.  I woke up bathed in sweat and totally desperate, because for a moment I believed that this was the truth, not just a f**g nightmare.

Zamira, by Faroukh and Sarah

“Terrible!” said Zamira, my partner. “Poor Aslan!” And she kissed me on the cheek.

“But it was just a nightmare,” I rejoiced and kissed her back and all others around me as well, including comrade Marianne.

Marianne, by Olivier and Danièle

Well, I know, it was a liberty, but comrade Patrick keeps cheating on her with comrade Francine, the agronomist, and we, Marianne and I, already have a son, young comrade Olivier, just as comrade Patrick has a daughter, young comrade Natalie, from Francine. “Well, are we all packed then? We have the train to Istanbul to catch, after all!”

 Muhammed, by Bashir and Sevim

“Indeed!” said Muhammed. “Let not their brown pulse stop us! Yalla, yalla, let’s go!”

Only when we were in the train, and those Illyrians who had not found the time to accompany us to the railway station were wishing us a good journey intraline, did I have the chance to jot down a few notes on what my nightmare had really brought home to me, namely the

“10 sine qua nons or indispensables of the revolution:

1)The revolution has to be world-wide to be successful.

2)There is a need for a global trigger like Covet-19, the rejection of imperialist wars is not sufficient.

3)Nationalism alone is not sufficient as a catalyst because it does not aggregate over regions.”

At this point, comrade Annie who had just tuned in as well to wish us a happy journey, burst out happily. “My thoughts since ever. Right you are! Nationalism is not a sufficient catalyst, religion or ethnicity aren’t either. Don’t you remember our seminars on the Vikings and Pruzzens, the religious wars in Europe and the eviction of the French Huguenots, the Salzburg and other protestants, and on what may have been the first world war, the seven years’ war between France and Austria from 1756-63 and the British-French-Austrian-Prussian-Russian wars surrounding it which had reverberations all over the world from Europe to North America to India?”

“Of course, but there are even more sine qua nons:

4) We have to succeed in eliminating the central government as well as all governmental hierarchies down to the town and village level, all police, army, and  secret services, as well as all corporate hierarchies and their security forces immediately at the outset of the revolution, so as to prevent a constantly renewing flow of mercenary armies. Instead, only brigades, neighbourhood assemblies of at most seven members with the chairman rotating daily or at least every week, workplace and village plenary assemblies with the moderators rotating every hour, shall take all decisions consensually. All assemblies shall be on an equal level, none of them entitled to overrule the others, and all decisions, including local, regional, continental, and world-wide referendums shall be liable to instant revocation if even a single neighbourhood, workplace or village assembly raises additional consideration and relaunches the discussion.”

“You see,” I said. “This is why we had to capture van der Leihen and Macron, to get things moving. And we also had to sow unrest in the Caucasus lest it become a counter-revolutionary backwater.”

“But back then, we reactionaries pretended it was to thwart the revolution in these regions!” objected comrade Abram, a repentant small oligarch from Ukraine.

“Yes, but that was buffaloshit, and you know it,” I countered. “Think about, why would Papon and Pucheu,” two neo-Vichyites, “have sought refuge there if it had been in such a turmoil?”

5)We need not prevent the counter-revolutionary
 reaction by force of arms but mainly by persuasion, convincing the public and private security forces that their future and that of their children is with the revolution. Yet we have to eliminate all money and money substitutes such as crypto and tokens and get as quickly as possible to an organisation with free allocation and distribution of inputs, tools and equipment, food and all basic and other goods at markets, share points, get them directly from the producing workshops, simply share them, engage in revolutionary barter, or get help by the neighbourhood assembly when needed.

Hisham and his son Bashir, by Marius and Jean-Luc

“I wonder whether the Chechens are also participating in their latest scam, the underground logistics stations Amazon, Uber, Deliverando, DHL, and Volt, in other words, our future comrades Andy, Henri, Fernando, Louis, and Viesturs are running in the French lands…,” asked young comrade Bashir, comrade Hisham’s son, comrade Muhammed’s grandson, also intraline from Illyria, and as brazenly as ever. “Once they no longer succeed in hiring any soldiers, we just need to convince them of the revolutionary way, don’t we?”

“And what about animal and plant rights?” asked young comrade Julie. “Do you already have thoroughly mixed harp assemblies everywhere in Chechnia?”

“I don’t know yet,” I answered truthfully. “We first have to get to Istanbul, that will take about a week on the train, then via electro-bus to Ankara where we will stay at comrade Işil’s. She is a fellow feminist comrade.”

“Are you sure the busses are all electrical already, as with your counter-revolutionary nightmare the other night,” asked comrade Jean. “Maybe time has really stood still there?”

“Oh, yes, comrade Vicky,” revolutionary travel agent based in Novosibirsk and a buffalohuman, meaning being able to morph from human to buffalo shape just upon a spell, “assures us the ecological section of the revolutionary sine qua nons, namely

6) Abolition of all private cars, and only functional vehicles such as tractors, excavators, fire brigades, ambulances, taxis, and small delivery vans permitted on the roads returned to natural field roads, cobble stones or pavement only in the village centres, abolition of combustion engines in all vehicles and ships and jet engines, radical expansion of public transport, based on trains, sail-and-solar operated boats and small wind-and-solar propelled airplanes,

7) Breaking up of all large polluting factories and energy works into small workshops of 50 workers maximum, much higher soil, water, and air quality standards and filters, only small block energy works consisting of solar panels, small wind mills, small water turbines where appropriate, and  well-insulated and filtered incineration only of non-recyclable rubbish,

8) radical recycling of all textiles, wood, metal, plastic, paper, return to natural materials instead of polluting synthetics,

9) fully natural, biological, and organic agriculture, highest comfort standards for stables,  maximal room on the pastures and in the poultry coops, avoid slaughter wherever possible, use animals for milk, eggs and wool only to the extent compatible with their welfare and that of their offspring, eliminate artificial ingredients in processed foods, and use only natural fertilisers and pesticides, insecticides, herbicides, fungicides etc.,

9) deconstruction of all unneeded, ugly, and outright toxic buildings and structures, including highways and tarmacked roads, parking lots and garages, and all apartment houses higher than five floors, use animals, plants, and bacteria to enable recycling piece-by-piece and organic deconstruction methods wherever possible,

10) expansion of all brigades, neighbourhood, workplace, and village assemblies to full harp – meaning including humans, animals, robots, and plants on an equal basis,

Comrade Vicky assures us that this ecological section of the sine qua nons has been fully implemented in Turkey and the Caucasus regions. Anyway, we shall see, as we progress from Ankara via Samsun, Trabzon, and Rize to Tbilisi. There Pierre le Gars and Lilo will get out and visit her relatives in Georgia, to then catch up with us later. We on the other hand will continue onward on another electro-bus to Grozny, where comrade Ramzan will meet us, and from there by a last regular line bus relayed by a minibus to our little home village in the mountains.”

1) Mud slides

Mud Slides near Uyutnoe, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

Natural Disaster or Planned Ecocide?

When we reached Uyutnoe, as it is known in Russian, a little hamlet in the foothills of the Caucasus protected from the elements by the ruins of an old fortress, the disaster was already underway… massive mud slides. Instead of the whole village assembly coming to pick us up at the minibus stop further down the road, it was just comrade Ramzan’s wives, comrades Bukhya and Nazha with their smaller children and my father, comrade Abukhan who came to greet us. When he heard the news, comrade Ramzan’s face got all red and wrinkled, he staggered up the hill ahead of us more than he ran, and we were afraid he would fall over.

As we hastened after him, Nazha pointed right, and we Illyrians quickly made bio-videos to be transmitted back home. At least for you young revolutionaries, it must have been the first time that you saw something like that. Brown avalanches you might call them.

The mud slides, at least three of them, had not touched the village directly, since the houses stood on a hill somewhat removed from the main slopes, but they had ravaged some fields and the more remote grazing grounds, forcing the animals, especially the horses and cows to stay all together crammed on the pastures closest to the houses. When we had been here the last times as revolutionary barter correspondents, it had been in the summer, and we had spent most evenings outside at the fire place. This evening, because of the cold, but also the risk of further mud slides, we had to stay inside. The villagers held their assemblies like the Illyrians, every night, and switched the location between the seven family houses. Tonight, to welcome us, the assembly was held at my old family home, where about twenty people – our fellow villagers Bulat, also called the Georgian, comrades Deki and Temirbek, nicknamed the Mongols, Muhammed’s cousin Islambek, and Zelim’s brother Tamerlan, their ten wives, and their teenage children older than 12 – were already sitting, eating and drinking as the shock would allow, and discussing what to do next as well as the news from other villages. It turned out that Uyutnoe was far from being the only village affected. There had been mud slides all over Chechnya, and since there had not been that much rain yet this fall, the often-voiced suspicion was that “This wasn’t forces of nature, that’s the Western Sheitans,” meaning the Western ex-capitalists and fascos, “behind it.”

To general hilarity, comrade Temirbek played a newscast from Imperial Renaissance, the Russia and Asia affiliate of the fascist media channel European Empire. “Our interior minister in exile Dzhokhar Zakayev, brother of president Akhmed Zakayev, has rejected the allegation that counter-revolutionaries might be behind it. He instead blamed unnamed Russian forces for interference in Chechen affairs and for trying to draw advantage from the natural catastrophe. He was presumably referring to the group of sinister Russian oligarchs and clandestine producers known as the Big Animals.”

“We should get at the radio channel for disparaging animals,” shouted Bashir from Illyria, again almost too cockily for our hosts. “Animal lives matter, don’t they, especially now after comrade Julie’s landmark presentation?” And without waiting for the applause to subside, he begged his father, Hisham. “Papa, may I come? Zelim-Philippe as well? At least for the Winter Holidays? You have so much research to do there and schools are still only functioning part-time because of the aftermath of the brown and the blue pulses?”

“And what do your pregnant girl-friends, yours truly comrade Sevim, and Zelim-Philippe’s Julie say to that?” countered Hisham. Bashir looked embarrassed.

“For the Winter holidays at the earliest, we shall think about letting you go!” said Bashir’s mother Rim, who was sitting next to Sevim at the Illyrian youth club participating in the bio-wifi conference.

“That’s no problem!” said Zelim-Philippe, who seemed embarrassed as well. After all, Bashir and he had only recently enjoyed the limelight with their presentation of the intranet-capable free gauge. For any good or service it traced the amount available for free at the local market, share point, or directly from the producer workshop, via simple sharing, revolutionary barter, or with help from the neighbourhood assembly or trade union. The free gauge also allowed to ascertain residual amounts of goods, mostly illegal ones like drugs, dangerous medicines, weapons, and similar banned products that were still sold against crypto, token, or other forms of money by the fasco underground.

After they had finished, their girl-friends Sevim and Julie had given their university entry project presentations. Sevim on hierarchy-free education and Julie on ‘Animal lives matter. Plant lives triumph’ and nature-speak and nature language. Again with a bit of the glory  reflecting on their boy-friends. Yet, at the moment, his friend Bashir apparently couldn’t get enough attention. There was a second reason why little Zelim-Philippe, while just as keen on seeing the Caucasus as Bashir, was a bit recalcitrant still. He was probably afraid of causing an embarrassment to comrade Zelim. His mamon, comrade Camille had always left it open whether Zelim-Philippe was Zelim’s or Philippe’s son. Yet the astute Chechen villagers would clearly see that blond-haired, blue-eyed Zelim-Philippe was much more likely to be comrade Philippe’s.

“You’ll come see us later!” I said, so as to save everybody  even more embarrassment remembering their own skeletons in the cupboard. “Let me ask everybody at home in Illyria and the brigade here at Uyutnoe, what do you think, was it the fascists or was it forces of nature?”

The overwhelming majority said it was the fascos. Only comrade Hisham asked: “Well, but they are such a dwindling minority, just a few criminals on the lam. Why does it always have to be them? Maybe just a wild goat that tread loose some stones?”

“Even there it would have been the fascos behind it,” noted Zamira. “Nothing in nature happens by accident.”

“We agree,” said Islambek, “it has got to be fascos. As we said, there has hardly been any rain, where would all the mud be coming from? We usually get mud slides only in the spring, and usually covered by snow, as part of avalanches.”

“You said a goat could have tread it off,” said comrade Marianne. “In Argentina, in the sierra and in the foothills of the Andes, stone slides can start this way. Yet how would a such a big mud slide go off that way, especially as you say, the weather has been dry?”

“D’accord,” Hisham shrugged. “Maybe I am wrong? But how would the fascos have started them? They look a little bit big for just human agency, don’t they?”

“I heard something in the Russian news a moment ago,” said comrade Jean. “Apparently, they have had mud slides in the Russian lands as well. There villagers claim they have seen people climb the mountains carrying big white apparatuses with blue lamps on them.”

“What we in the French lands called pinguins!” I said, just to get the comrades going.

“Well, that would explain it, wouldn’t it?” said Zelim. “They serve to start a blue pulse, meaning major disruptions in electro-magnetic radiation that can block even our natural low-frequency intranet.”

“We should walk up by these mud slides tomorrow morning to see whether we can find any such device or other traces the fascos have left,” suggested Muhammed, sensing the disbelief of the villagers.

Aini, by Bashir and Sevim

“In the French lands, they did the pulse not only to make people go back to their high-frequency internet for which they would then have sold us cables and towers against crypto, but also to harm our growing partnership with animals and plants,” said his wife Aini.

“How far are you with setting up your harp, meaning mixed human-animal-robot and plant assemblies?” asked Julie.

“Oh, we had one just the other day when the weather was still good,” said Ramzan’s second wife, comrade Bukhya. “We meant to do another one when you came, but now we have had the mud slides, and the animals are agitated and the plants have closed up or even lost their leaves.”

“That’s very sad!” said young comrade Natalie, expert on rescuing the Taiga from the pre-revolutionary ecocide. “Another ecocide in the making!”

Their Chechen comrades still looked dubious. “But who would have been the people carrying the pinguins?” asked comrade Tamerlan.

“Mercs probably!” I shrugged. “Same pattern everywhere.”

“But we don’t have all that many Chechen oligarchs. Maybe they were Dagestanis?” suggested comrade Temirbek.

“Magomedov and Kerimov maybe,”  continued comrade Deki, “but they are old hat already, and they work with the Russian oligarchs, of which there aren’t all that many left either.”

“Could it have been these Big Animals that were mentioned in the radio show?” asked Zelim quizzically, and I had to burst out laughing.

“You can’t be serious!” I said.

“Very unlikely!” said comrade Sergei from the Moscow Recycling Hounds who had popped up intraline. “The so-called ‘Big Animals’ – Aistov, Belkov, Gusev, Kozlov, Kotov, Lysov, Medvedev, Oleinyi, Rybakov, Slonek, Volkov, and Zhuravlev –, have embraced the Russian chapter of ‘Animal lives matter. Plant lives matter’ and are setting up harp assemblies in the plants they still control. You may know, our oligarchs pretend that theirs are self-managed enterprises, then we revolutionaries have to find fault with them again. It has been their game over the  past few years.

“Their product lines are bad enough. Dodgy processed foods. Synthetic fertilisers and pesticides. Counter-revolutionary, weaponisable smart phones, even some pretending to be intranet phones. Pharmaceutical medicine, including nanobotted vaccines, using spike proteins and synthetic mRNA and other toxic or addictive by-products. Ships, boats, ice breakers, and maybe even planes, even solar and wind propelled revolutionary ones, as well as means of production such as robotised conveyor belts.  Steel, and other metals imminently useful for the production of weapons. Finally, oil and gas, where the revolution has already transitised to completely renewable block energy works, consisting of solar panels, small windmills, small water turbines, and  rubbish incinerators for non-recyclable rubbish. Yet these comrades have also pretended to be just rank and file members of rotating management brigades in their half-open, half-clandestine workshops, where you as the worker never know whether by misfortune you are producing for money or rather for crypto or tokens and may have to buy all you needed  from underground outfits. This while in the revolution you would get everything for free as part of the economic circuit. You would receive all your basics such as food, clothes, household goods, furniture, toys, phones, computers, robots and other devices either for free, by simple sharing at a share point, by revolutionary barter, by discussion with your neighbourhood assembly or trade union cell directly from the producing self-managed workshop, or in difficult situations, by voucher. You would also get your home renovated, repaired or even built new by self-managed construction enterprises and brigades. And of course, like everybody else you would be entitled to use public transport for free, drive a functional vehicle if approved by the village assembly, send your children to school, training, or university for free, receive treatment at a self-managed policlinic for free, and so on. So, we wondered, since 99% of the economy was already functioning according to the free principle as measured by the free gauge, why did we need all these clandestine workshops, or at least clandestine sections working for money?

When we first talked to the Big Animals, we had gotten the contact to them through some ex-military concerned about the defence capability of the Russian lands in case of another counter-revolutionary or Nazi attack. The Big Animals said the contact to the Western Sheitans was needed to keep up with potentially nefarious technology the class enemy might develop.

“Why don’t you just produce revolutionary intranet phones?” comrade Timur, presently based in Murmansk,  robot expert with the Moscow Recycling Hounds, asked them. “Aren’t we helping them by cooperating and even subcontracting for them?” comrade Andrei, economist with the Moscow Recycling Hounds, supplemented. “I mean, those at the top of their global hierarchy at the moment, messieurs Uber, Deshalles, Deliverando, Jassy, and Volt, hardly produce anything any longer. At most, the logistics stations assemble things like vehicles or blue pulse emitters, produced in China, or by you, here in the Russian lands. Without our Russian zeal, their edifice would crumble.”

“Yes, of course,” said Leonid Volkov, himself a producer of an all-Russian intranet phone. “Yet as we told you, we, our entirely self-managed enterprise which works only for the economic circuit, still needs to know what their latest inventions are to keep our own phones and laptops up to the defence of the motherland.”

Then comrades Evgeni and Volodia spoke from Novgornyi. “If you could locate one of these pinguin devices for our examination?” said comrade Evgeni. “Maksim,” his son, “and I might even come down to see you. There are also rumoured to be a few hidden around here, in old light towers  on the Baltics and on viewing points in the Romintian heath. Yet so far, we haven’t been able to find a single one.”

“I should go for your walk up by the mud slides tomorrow morning!” comrade Volodia seconded him. “You are bound to find something.”

Chechnia 2000-01

Papa and his friends in the Chechen war, by Olivier and Danièle

“Funny,” I said as we were looking at the  maps, old-fashioned print maps, mind you, not bio-maps that people would be able to summon with their brain apps and carry in their intranet-capable devices. “I seem to remember that we had a look-out point quite close to that hill-top during the second Chechen war in 2000-01. Remember, you, comrades Zelim and Muhammed were in a team with me, we were fighting on the Russian side. Only, we were mercs back then, we were expecting money. Revolution was far from anybody’s mind.” And when I saw the younger Illyrians frown, I had to explain. “You see, we were young back then, 14 years old at most. We hadn’t studied any revolutionary theory. We just knew intuitively that the Americans and other Westerners were worse than the Russians.”

“You’ll just have to tell us more about that tomorrow  night,” said Deki. “I fought in the Donetsk militia against the Ukrainian central government starting in 2014. For the same reasons. Yet then luckily the revolution came in 2021 and changed everything.”

“There is not much to tell,” I said. “From 2001 to 2021, we continued as serfs of the oligarchs. Back then, they were organised by sector – oil and gas, steel, metals, manufacturing and services, for instance, phones and banking… Or by business forum that existed in Sankt Petersburg, Novgorod, Yaroslavl’ and other Russian cities, a bit like the Davos or World Economic Forum in the West.”

“You mean the World Extermination Forum?” asked Peter Gar intraline from Georgia. “By the way, we here in the Georgian Caucasus have had these mud slides as well. It’s the latest major attack by these fiends.”

“World Extermination Forum. Quite,” I said. “Big Western businesses and their executioners in government tended to look down on poor people and to accept and sometimes even plan their extinction, that’s true. I think comrades Boris and Rodion will have more to say on that taking the cases of some of the Russian forums and Whiterock in the ex-U.S.. Back then, we just felt like soldiers. We did not mind being ordered around, as long as we earned money. At that stage, we also did not care whether it was Russians, Americans, Sheiks or Imams that we were working for. Don’t think that we exploded the World Trade Centre or abducted heads of government, state or multinational organisations every day. It was mostly boring work. Opening car doors, guarding gates, following suspects, or increasingly, hacking their phones.  Yet as we got older and wiser, things began to clash in our heads. And here I talk for Muhammed, Zelim, myself, and also Saïd, Miguel, Noah, Seth, Omsinbaba and other mercs from oppressed regions. We were Chechens, Palestinians, South-Americans, Africans, after all, anti-imperialists,  so why were we all the time protecting global capitalists and their neo-colonialist governments? And our Russian comrades were working for Western imperialism in the Russian lands, or so it seemed to them. Things really came to a head in 2021, because when the revolution broke out, we got lent out to the French Neo-Vichyites, while their mercs got employed in the Russian lands. Russia was one of the first countries to go, mainly because of the incompetent way our leaders handled the demonstrations, boycotts, strikes, blockades, and the popular upswell on the whole. President Neputin had resigned, his successor, Nikolai Morbidov, collaborated with international capital to the point of organising a vaccine roulette to distribute market shares for Big Pharma. Ask our Illyrian comrade Robespierre if you don’t believe me! He was there as a hostage and guinea pig for testing the vaccine. Morbidov then went on to forge the election results by organising break-ins into the local electoral commission headquarters. You young comrades here at Uyutnoe are quite likely not to believe me. They were using foreigners who barely spoke Russian to do these break-ins. Talk to comrades Jacques, Gabriel, François and Béa, now rehabilitating at 76 rue de Lorraine in Saint-Denis, neighbourhood assemblies Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove. Jacques’ and his people’s minds cracked during these missions as well.  Ultimately, they must have felt that their sponsors and handlers were taking the piss of them. The fraud flopped, the Communist candidate Gennady Grudinov won. He promptly yielded to the neighbourhood, workplace, and village assemblies and brigades that were forming everywhere in the Russian lands. And all over the world as a matter of fact. On the way home, our boat with Morbidov and a few Neo-Vichyite sponsors on it almost sank in the Arctic. If it only had gone down, it would have saved the Russian lands a lot of grief.

Then we went to Paris. We worked together with comrade Jacques and the other Westerners. We  abducted King Emmanuel and Empress Ulla, supposedly to bring about a counter-revolutionary backlash, especially among the armies and security forces. Well, this strategy flopped as well. Some White Armies formed. They were called white in analogy to the Western armies sent against the Bolshevik revolution in 1917.  Yet one speech by our Russian Communist spokesman, Gennady Grudinov, already got them to get off their tanks, drop their arms, and go home.

Some of the Neo-Vichyite sponsors, such as ex-general Roland Papon and  top-bureaucrat Marcel Pucheu tried to flee via the Caucasus to China, where they sought protection by the warlords. We tried to help them, and Jacques and the others joined us after they had, unsuccessfully, tried to stir unrest in the ex-U.S.. They did not succeed, president Bimp was happy to go. After an odyssey via south America and Africa, they finally joined us in Georgia, then followed Pucheu to China. That didn’t work either, the Georgian or Chinese  comrades respectively arrested Papon and Pucheu. The French comrades debunked banker Etienne Flandin who is still in prison. Jacques murdered another one, pharma tycoon Roger Sabiani, on order by Hunziger and others who wanted to take over the crypto business with medicines. You could really say that was the beginning of the ex-capitalists turning into mafiosi. 

Well, they tried to play politicians again a few more times. First and foremost during the coup of Winter of  Year 1-2. Empress Ulla in Brussels, Nicolas Papon – that was the nephew of Roland Papon –, in Paris, Joe Bonson in London, Olaf Bolz or whatever is name was in the German lands, a new incarnation of a different Donald J. Bimp in the ex-U.S., and old Morbidov in the Russian lands tried a putsch and failed. Even though they got vicious! For instance, Paul and Emmanuel, the terrorists, who are now rehabilitating at Osip and Fyodor Rothschild’s castle – these particular Rothschilds are with the revolution and friends of our comrade Jean’s.  Comrades-to-be Paul and Emmanuel killed Guillaume Bousquet when he refused the post of maire of Paris that Nicolas Papon was offering him.

Here in the Russian lands, Nikolai Morbidov had to run. He tried to hijack the Bolshoi Theatre where militia cornered him in the end.  Hunziger also had to flee. He was by now the only remaining leader of the neo-Vichyites who had not either recanted or been arrested.

Zelim, Muhammed, and I had switched to the revolution. So had Noah, Seth, Miguel, Boris, Rodion, and Saïd. They all live at Illyria now, you can talk to them  intraline if you don’t believe me. Jacques, Béa, François, and Gabriel had repented and were rehabilitating as I said, soon to be followed by Olivier, Silien, Paul, Emmanuel, Benoît, Henri, Ugolin and many others of the second, third, fourth and fifth generation of counter-revolutionary terrorists and their sponsors, everybody from Marcel, son of the older Hunziger to Markus Nah, Ian Fern and even Elon Deer and Jeff Kiss.

“Tell us exactly what made you switch sides?” asked comrade Bulat.

“Well, we, Zelim, Muhammed, and I simply no longer wanted to be lackeys of imperialism.”

“We were also convinced that violence and weapons were not a way to win arguments,” added Zelim.

“And we had families or at least partners to take care off,” said Muhammed. “My son Hisham was a promising young revolutionary scholar, an economist and statistician. I was very proud of him and wanted to support his education.”

“Well, that is a perfectly understandable reason for switching, cousin Muhammed,” said Islambek. “But it is personal. Yet we can’t really wait for all these terrorists and their sponsors to develop personal reasons for quitting, can we?” “Well, how would you go about getting them to repent, pray tell?”  I asked.

“Work hard until we arrest them, ask them to repent, offer them fair trials by their village assembly and decent conditions in  prison and under house arrest, and if they don’t capitulate, just push them into the volcano! Yeah, just push them into the volcano!” Islambek nodded to himself.  Bulat, Ramzan, my papa Abukhan, Tamerlan, and even Deki and Temirbek looked unconvinced.

“Why not?” asked Islambek nervously. “Look, you’ve arrested  them,” said my papa. “They are just like you, Chechen villagers, only misled by these Western Sheitans. Plus, you want information of them. Where are the blue pulse devices, where are their fellow mercs, where are their sponsors hiding? And instead of pulling the worms out of their noses fast, you want to make them clam up by talking about judgment by the village assembly, prison, and even threatening them with being thrown into a volcano?” “Then what would you do?” asked Islambek hesitantly. 

“I would say, help us find your pals, buddy, before they kick off any more trouble. We shall see you tomorrow, cousin,” said Muhammed. “I hope we run into some of them fast so we can put both methods to a test.”

Squirrel talking to leopard, by Maksim and Zhenya

Up the Mountain

“If it is the fascos as I think, we’d better not go all of us,” said Ramzan. “You Muhammed, Aslan and Zelim should come with us, and maybe Bulat, Tamerlan, and Temirbek. We can pretend to be leading some sheep for grazing. Let no spy of theirs suspect that we are looking for something. Deki, Islambek, and Abukhan, you should stay in the village, take care of the horses and the cattle and keep company to the women and children.

“If we don’t come back before night-fall, set up some watches.”

“Comrades Zamira, Marianne, and Aini can participate in those,” I said. “They have been part of our rotating block-energy works guards for as long as I can remember. They know exactly what is involved.”

Deki acted impressed. “We taught our wives the know-how as well, but I would not have believed that your women in the French lands are also that competent.” His wife Dagmara and my girl Zamira almost throttled him.

Temirbek pretended not to notice. “We leave you eight dogs and take six. We may need them if something happens,” he said.

Next morning , we left before daybreak so as not to cause any distress to our comrades. Yet some of the Illyrians were already awake, although it was two hours earlier there. “Please never stop transmitting bio-video-footage, and we’ll let you know if ever it gets interrupted. We have set up a channel for you in Robby 1 which will be monitored 24/7. And, oh yeah, you comrades from Uyutnoe, does Iasnoe pole ring a bell to you in your parts?”

“Of course,” said Ramzan, caressing one of the sheep. “It’s a small hamlet keeping sheep and goats pastures about half-way up the mountain. It might have been ruined though by one of the slides. It’s not a bad idea to start by going there. We still have some goats up there with a comrade shepherd from one of the next villages. The goats may add to our alibi for exploring.”

“You seem to be mighty afraid of these fasco mercs,” said Robespierre smilingly. “That is why we are sending you some strong helpers. Volgo, the Volgotitan, and a few of his friends will debark there from the time tunnel in about two hours. Will you be there?”

“Oh, yes, we should be there in an hour if the sheep come along,” said Bulat. “But I don’t see the point, why dinosaurs?  Why not ask Leo, the leopard, Misha, the brown bear, Milyi, the grey wolf, Jack, the jackal, and if you want to, Foxie, Lynx and Boar to join us?”

“Well, would they care to join us?” asked Zelim.

“I can ask them,” offered a squirrel from a near-by tree, hastened away and soon send a first bio-video of itself being involved in conversation with a leopard. As always since humans had started to study nature language earlier this year, after some initial hesitation, but especially easily when dinosaurs were involved or when robots did the mediation, they could understand most animals, especially the smaller and more harmless ones quite easily. And the animals in turn were extremely helpful, especially when it was  about forming a common front against the fascos.

Tracks in the Mud, by Busana and Khazarbek, children of Uyutnoe

“Why don’t we invite some vipers as well?” proposed a rosefinch. “They will slow the fascos down if they come after you. We know what you are looking for. It is this thing that looks like a big snow fox, with blue eyes that are turning, a bit like the headlights of a monster. They installed it on the very top of the mountain, right before the mud slides went off. They brought it up the night before yesterday, and this morning, they are back again to fiddle with it. There you can see the tracks of the monster they came with.”

2)  Back to petrol?

Arrival of the Dinosaurs, by Emmanuel and Laurence

Arrival of the Dinosaurs

“The device the animals are describing seems to be what we called pinguin in the French lands, for its black and white colour and tubular shape. But when they said eyes of a monster, what kind of monster were they referring to?”

“Didn’t you know that the animals call the pre-revolutionary times either the car or the monster age? They say it is the worst thing that happened to them since the stone age.”

“That’s when the humans began to force them to carry loads and do other menial tasks, isn’t it?” I asked. “Yet when the cars came they no longer had to do that, didn’t they?”

“Yes, but they were deemed inferior to the cars. Anyone could run them over, and if they were not run over, the toxins in the air would kill them.”

“Now I see why most animals would take somewhat longer in rushing to our rescue,” I explained to our Chechen comrades. “Yet the dinosaurs do not have that kind of negative experience. They remember us humans as small, clumsy, and harmless. And not all that dumb, because back then we could speak to them. And as a matter of fact, even today the linguistic spark seems to jump right over between the dinos and us. So, our hope is that we can rebuild the trust between humans and animals via the dinosaurs.”

“Here we are at the clearing now,” said Tamerlan. “And I see, your friends have  already arrived. They seem to have just gotten out of the time tunnel.” There were seven of them. The huge one was Volgo, the Volgotitan. We knew him from the French lands. Then came two slightly smaller Amuro- or Aralosaurusses but with armour, originally from the river Amur in Eastern Siberia, but who had spread much further West and South to the Aral Sea in the Kazakh lands, two Stegosaurusses, about the same size, but with even bigger armour,  and two smaller dinos with wings, probably Kileskuses or some kind of raptors, meaning meat-eaters. And what is Sultan doing there?” He pointed at one of our dogs. “He pretends not to even have noticed them but is jumping up and down next to the mud slide.”

We motioned the dinos to follow us. They did out of friendliness although some of them were over 5 and even 10 times bigger and heavier than us,  and went over there. Now Sultan was sniffing something, which lo and behold, looked like car tracks, and a  blue rock thrush interpreted his barking in a sing song for the intranet to forward it all the way to Moscow, Illyria, Istanbul…Beijing, all over the world and naturally.

“Comrade Sultanbek who works with the revolutionary humans has discovered monster tracks, and he thinks they are from a combustion engine, what do you humans call it? A petrol-fuelled car. He thinks by driving it up the mountain, the nasty humans have caused the slide…”  

“Are they still up there?” I wondered and was quite surprised when the two raptors immediately swung themselves up into the air to reconnoitre. They were back within ten minutes and when they were close to the ground again,  dropped two humans, frightened but still alive, who immediately raised their hands and whined:

“Please don’t hurt us. We have done nothing to deserve this!” said the first.

“We were just following orders by the Big Animals,” said the other.

“That’s not true!” shouted Ramzan, and the dinosaurs who were quite intimidating because of their huge size, be they vegetarians, advanced several steps towards the two villains. Several of the wild animals the squirrel and other friendly animals had alerted were glowering at them from the underbrush as well.

Interrogation of the Villains

“Listen, he misspoke,” yelled the other fasco, “he meant the Ubermenschen. They were trying to forge an alliance with the Big Animals, but they had not succeeded by the time we went up there to install the blue pulse emitter. And we can tell you, it will start to operate soon. All your intranet communications will be disrupted.”

“Ladno,” Muhammed said. “Let’s start to walk up there then. You will help us neutralise this device, and I seem to remember from the French lands, once you can stop the process at one place, it will carry over to the devices at all other locations. Who are these Ubermenschen?”

“Ruslan and I, my name is Ali, call them Ubermenschen, because they are affiliated with a logistics tycoon, Henri Uber from the Canadian lands. Some people call them Uberytes as well. Yet in fact, they are Germans, Nazis you know, they want to conquer Chechnia, Russia, the whole lot. Their names are impossible to pronounce, Freeze Merts, Arnim Peppberger, Larz Creeksbyel, Conrad Wadaphool…the list goes on like that”

“Was the mud slide already there when you came up here?”

“No, I am afraid that went off when we drove up in our Mercedes,” said Ruslan. “It has big tyres. It had rained just a little bit, but because of the big weight of the vehicle it sent the mud off behind it. Plus, we had to dig them tyres out several times. We did not know it would be so heavy!”

“Why did you use a combustion-engine vehicle then?” asked  Jean, who was a chemical engineer and tyre specialist, intraline from Illyria.

The two thugs blushed. “Because it was the one they gave us. But of course you are right with what you are implying. It may be a bit lighter than the electrical car. The battery is a lot heavier in an electrical type car. So, our bosses might have known.”

“However, you do know, and your sponsors would know as well that the village assemblies world-wide have forbidden combustion engines and private vehicles for environmental reasons, haven’t they? You should not even have used this car at all in this area which is an agricultural and resort area. Our whole village does not have a single transporter,” said Tamerlan. “When we need one, we borrow it from a logistics hub several villages down the river. Its workers service the cars, we surrounding farms produce their food, clothes, and so on. Everybody is happy without money and without stock markets.”

“I know,” said Ruslan. “I did not want to do it. It was Ali’s idea.”

The Revolutionary Economic Circuit disrupted by Logistics Stations, by Faroukh and Sarah

“Where did the Mercedes come from?” asked Bulat. “Don’t tell me the Ubermenschen dropped it from a plane or a helicopter?”

“Maybe some of the parts, yes,” said Ali. “It came from a logistics hub, just like the one your pals work at.” He had lied again. All seven of us were looking at him with growing disgust, and Ruslan was fidgeting.

“Well, not quite,” he said. “It is one of these new logistics stations. You don’t borrow vehicles there. It is more like a post-office. You can bring your stuff to be sent all over the world, or their people even pick it up at your place. Or, the other way around, you pick up what gets sent to you, or they may even deliver it to your place. And sometimes they do assembly as well. However, it’s not for free. We, eh, they do not participate in the economic circuit. They have printed new crypto-rubles. You can earn them by working for them.”

“Haven’t there been all these referendums last year outlawing crypto, token, phoney vouchers, all these money substitutes?” Zelim asked, pretending naivety.

“Yes, but a little bit at the margin won’t hurt, would it?” asked Ali cockily, while Ruslan looked increasingly miserable.

“I think some parts came by airplane, our bosses after all still produce some in the ex-U.S., in Britain, France, Germany and even in Russia. Although, you are right, officially all planes have been outlawed by the revolutionary village assemblies,” he coughed nervously as he said that and all of them heard his subliminal bio-message like a scream in their brains, ‘Please, I am willing to jump ship, I was misled by Ali and others, please call back your dinos!’, “yeah, they have been outlawed by the village assemblies, and by local, regional, continental, and even world-wide referendum as well, except for small wind- and solar planes to be used only for rescue and emergency and research purposes. Other things come by transporter from Turkey or by train from Moscow.”

“Do they bribe the drivers and conductors, or how do they manage to get their freight on board?”

“Sometimes, they may bribe them,” Ali rolled his eyes, as if to underline that so much evil was beyond his belief, “but most of the time, they just pretend the boxes are part of the economic circuit, meaning free exchanges between producers, consumers, and users world-wide or maybe some revolutionary barter deal.”

“And what do you think the snow foxes are for,” I asked. “Are they wifi towers?”

“Something like that,” replied Ali, visibly glad to be let off the hook.

“You are lying again, you’ve already said they were blue pulse emitters,” Zelim scoffed and the dinos, who had already taken one step back, came one big step closer again.

“Yeah, in the beginning, just to stop the intranet, but then they will be wifi-towers again,” Ruslan this time defended his companion.

“Why do your bosses want to stop the intranet?” asked Ramzan. “After all it is just a healthier and more ecological alternative to the internet, the internet requiring around 5 GB meaning 5 billion Hz frequencies, as well as cables and wifi-towers, whereas the intranet just requires 0.4 to 100 Hz maximum and can be transmitted via humans, animals, plants and all intranet-capable robots, things, and materials, including water and pebbles even. Our friend Volgo, the Titan here is a better wifi-tower than hundreds of their old-fashioned metal and wire monsters taken together.”

“Oh, I think they just want to harm the revolution.” This time Ali had been faster with his answer. “And by the way, you may throw me into prison, I am willing to repent, rehabilitate, do any chores, but please, eh, call your monsters back.”

Ruslan’s and Ali’s testimony, by Jean-François and Alexandra

This time it was not the raptors that had seized Ruslan and him but two giant boars. When they let them go, the two gangsters tried to run. Yet they were able to do only a few steps before two poisonous vipers seized their ancles. “You are lying to our friends. You are not going anywhere until you have helped them disable the blue pulse emitters.” And looking around, they could see that boars, dinosaurs, leopard, wolves, jackals, and birds were still around and ready to help the revolutionaries hold them or at least communicate messages that would enable us to catch them if they tried to escape.

“I think we must interrupt this interrogation and try to neutralise the blue pulse emitter lest we get another electro-magnetic pulse. At least here in the Russian lands. And it is bound to be worse than the prior ones, because the counter-revolutionaries learn from their mistakes just as we do!” Robespierre spoke up intraline. “Urgent bio-call to the Moscow and Novgornyi Recycling Hounds, have you been able to locate any other devices?”

“Yes,” Maksim’s happy voice sounded through their heads, “two of them, actually. The ones my papa told you about, one on the coast hidden in a cave or let’s say a crevasse in some rocks, quite close to our place, in Svetlogorsk, and one in a somewhat remote location on a forest viewing point in the Romintian heath to the South-East of our village. And, as you Chechen brigade will find when you access your local blue pulse emitters, each of them has a map with all the remaining blue pulse emitters in the Russian lands and world-wide. There are two, no three remaining in the French lands as well, if you can believe it, all of them in the région parisienne. Wait, I can send you the coordinates.”

The Snow-Fox on Mountain Top

“You see,” Ruslan was trying to talk to the three Illyrians as they climbed the final distance to the blue pulse emitter, the two crims still with the vipers around their feet, ready to bite if one of them made a false move. “It is like your comrade from the French lands said, the fascos have learnt from their mistakes, and I heard them say, this time the on-switches will all be operated on a decentralised basis.”

“Well,” said Zelim, forcing the pace a little. “We shall see.” And then they had already reached the top of the mountain, where a small hut, an all-weather shelter stood next to a tubular device that was turning almost like a wind gauge. It took Zelim only one step to the device to switch it off, or rather to at least prevent it from turning. Muhammed and I meanwhile went into the hut, followed by Ramzan and Tamerlan. Temirbek and Bulat stayed outside guarding the two villains. It was already rather cold here on the top of the mountain and for a moment we were glad to find a fire burning in the fire-place. Yet Saïd, speaking intraline from Illyria, warned us. “Remember the logistics station comrade Fabien went in undercover. They almost killed him, several other workers, and a few spontaneous militiamen who had come to investigate, by pouring some chemicals into the fire that then exploded.”

He is right, I thought, and stepped up to the fire-place just in case, while Muhammed, Ramzan, and Tamerlan went to the computer desk first.

“We found the map comrade Maksim was talking about!” Muhammed cheered, while I peered into the flames. It seemed to be just wood burning, nothing untoward, but then I saw tiny blue flames as well.

“Let’s carry the computer out,” I shouted. “I think this fire may also go off!” Muhammed and Zelim who had come in as well immediately seized it and began to carry it out. I followed. But then, all of a sudden, ‘Bang!’, the whole place got grey with smoke, with red and fellow flames licking at us from all four walls as well as from the ground, roof, and the furniture. Zelim and Muhammed had reached the door and I could see them disappear through the grey mist with the desktop, a rather old-fashioned device, actually, pre-revolutionary probably with some hardware extensions and software updates. In addition, each of them was carrying a laptop. Zelim’s still had its bag, Muhammed had shoved the other in his backpack, making it overfull and about to burst. Yet then I tripped over a cable that was lying around and fell. “Ow!” My whole body hurt, especially my ankle which had maybe been twisted or broken. Zelim and Muhammed had to come back and drag me out as well as the printer. Just a rickety, old-fashioned model as well, but it seemed to be still intact. Fortunately, the goat shepherd had arrived with a few of his mates. They carried the printer and me, while Muhammed and Zelim carried the computer, and his brother Tamerlan the two laptops. Comrades Ramzan, Bulat, and Temirbek took care of the prisoners.

It was too long a way to get back to the village on foot. Therefore, my papa Abukhan and comrade Islambek came with a few horses and donkeys, leaving the village for Deki and the women to guard. We arrived back home when it was dark already. Luckily, nothing had happened there.

However, I had passed out on a horse and had to be treated for multiple bruises and, possibly, a twisted ankle, which turned out to be a passing problem, fortunately. I insisted for my bed to be made up in the room where comrades Zelim, Muhammed, and the others were examining the desktop, laptops, and printer we had found and carried out.

The printer had only one task still in its memory, and that was printing out the map of blue pulse emitter locations world-wide. When the printer had spit it out, we immediately photographed and scanned it with all available intranet phones and of course also sent bio-shots of it we made with our own eyes to all our contacts world-wide. There was some good news. Our blue pulse emitter up the mud slide on the mountain top had been located, as well as the two close to Novgornyi. However, there were still several other blue pulse locations in Chechnia, and we were trying to get in touch with the comrades in the close-by villages.

Same situation in the Île de France. There were three approximate locations, one near Beauvais to the North of Paris, the other one near Meaux to the East, and the third one near Étampes to the South-West, where comrade Fabien had delivered goods to fasco logistics station as a revolutionary under-cover agent. They were of course fine-combed by spontaneous militia until, eventually, the three blue pulse emitters were found. Yet, unfortunately, by that time, the latest pulse had already gone off.

With remote help from Robespierre, Sylvain, Jean-Wadi, Josip and the other computer and robot wizards at Illyria and Institut Galilée near Saint-Denis, we tried to restart the desktop and the two laptops with the revolutionary operating programme One World which would have automatically installed comrade Josip’s and Rosa’s moral imperative. It set up any device, computer, robot, phone, animalbot, and so on not to launch any programme likely to cause harm, not to permit itself to be weaponised, and not to allow any programmes, apps, or devices not approved and recommended as good practice for use world-wide by at least one revolutionary village assembly. Of course, no assembly anywhere in the world had condoned the nefarious blue pulse gimmick. We managed to install the basic programme and then tried to access the blue pulse device just as the Illyrian comrades had done the other day during the first wave of the pulse in the French lands. There were some initial successes, the programme did open, and mandated the revolutionary moral imperative at least for  those locations of blue pulse emitters we or other revolutionaries already had direct control over. However, we were not able to enforce the moral imperative across all relevant devices,  and we were also not able to de-activate their local on-switches. That meant that even in cases where we had managed to install  and to run the moral imperative, the fascos could still override it with their local on-switch. We had one last hope, to find a central override or on-off switch that would allow us to override their local on-switches. But try it as we might, by scrolling through hundreds of pages, we were not able to de-activate the latter. So, at about twelve o’clock, midnight Chechen time, meaning standard Moscow time as well, the third edition of their latest electro-magnetic pulse weapon went off, impossible to impede.

3) The Blue Pulse

Worse than the brown pulse, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

Worse than the brown pulse

The brown pulse had been nothing compared to this! The intranet was down all over Chechnia. Even the simplest bio-messages had trouble getting through, let alone longer calls, texts, bio-audios, and bio-videos. The revolutionary apps – material check, for checking all materials, products, processes and services anywhere in the economy, hierarchy check, for immediately reporting any hierarchy that developed anywhere in society, village forum app for broadcasting the neighbourhood assemblies and voting the quorum for forming and empowering spontaneous militia brigades, the market forum or freefoil app to check availability of goods on the markets, in share points, at the workshops, via revolutionary barter or long-distance order with the help of the neighbourhood assembly – were down as well. And unless we located the remaining blue pulse emitters or snow foxes as we call them here in the Caucasus region, we would have no way of stopping the  fascos.

It had been easy when they had spread poison-laced nanobots via drones and from airplanes. Humans, strong animals, and even trees could stun pilots with revolutionary red stun beams, nothing dangerous, just to force them to land, and for only half an hour until a spontaneous militia brigade could come and arrest them. Or humans, strong animals, and especially dinos could send bronze beams which would not destroy airplanes and drones but simply stop them and force them to land without dropping their charge. Yet with these new generation weapons those two methods no longer worked.

We were desperate. And in fact, we were almost quarrelling. Our Chechen friends said we brought this trouble over them. Even Ramzan. “A couple of weeks ago, we were peacefully organising the harp brigades and preparing the harp assemblies. Now it’s all on hold! You are throwing us back  centuries!”

Of course, we were trying to remind them it was not us but the Ubermenschen – Henri Uber, Louis Deshalles, Fernando Deliverando, Viesturs Volt, Jeff Bezosnik, Andy Jassy,  and their mercs ranging from Donald Trumpel, latest edition, Jack Brower, Boris Pistazius, and Lars Kriegsbeil to Fritz le Merc. Yet the Chechen comrades were angry. What to tell them?

Resist!

“…To organise the resistance, of course!” Senior comrade Georges spoke first. “Mobilise the people, the animals, including the dinos, the plants. Find these pinguin- or snow-fox bots, whatever you call them. We are doing the same in the French lands.”

“Don’t feel bad,” said Jérôme, digital terrorism expert. “We haven’t found two of the left-over pinguins yet either. In fact, I had to postpone my journey to join you until we have found them. But I promise you, the minute we have gotten rid of this interference, I’ll hop on the train.”

Marianne blushed. Every idiot could see that she fancied Jérôme. Apparently, they had already had a fling during their trip to South America. I would have to talk to her about it. Did she mean to leave me for him, in spite of young comrade Olivier? Or were we supposed to have a threesome?

“Talk to comrade Jérôme as well,” I heard a delta wave bio-message or thought cord sound in my brain. They had the lowest and safest frequency of all, 0.4-3 Hz, almost impossible to intercept by even the worst fasco hacker squad. But who was it from? Could it be from comrade Denis, his father, who often disapproved of his son? Or from comrade Michel, his partner, biochemical terrorism expert? “Remember, he’s got Arlette as well and Michel!” So, it wouldn’t be comrade Michel himself, and it wasn’t a female voice, so it couldn’t be comrade Arlette. So, was it from comrade Denis, or maybe from comrade Alain? Comrade Alain was a bit of an amateur psychoanalyst who sometimes gave helpful advice like this. Or was it from comrade Jean maybe? Yet, you see, comrades, had the intranet functioned properly without phasing or hacking, I  would have known immediately who it was from.

“It’s not as easy as you think!” comrade Zelim was bio-messaging next to me as I was distracted. “The Caucasus has many mountain tops. Without any intranet, even birds will have trouble bringing us the message.”

Then comrade Temirbek shouted from the entrance. “We have found one of their snow-fox bots. Here, talk to these brave fellows!”

Everybody’s surprise was great when instead of humans, two large brown bears walked in on all fours, then rose on their hind legs to greet the humans human-style. Then the dogs made space for them before the fireplace. We could listen to the animals bio-chatter with each other although they ignored us. “So, tell us?” asked the dogs. “Where is it? Our human friends need to get their bearings as soon as they can.”

Visit by the two bears, by Jean-François and Alexandra

“Well,” said  bear Misha, with a whimsical grin on his face, and I immediately made a bio-video for the young Illyrians to watch later. Since bears were not back running wild yet in the French forests and mountains, they probably did not realise how charmingly bears grin. “Not to offend you, valiant humans, but it is right before your noses. My brother and I spotted it from the neighbouring hill, then we came right over.”

“You don’t mean to say…?” asked Deki and his face paled. Before anybody could stop him, he was out of the house. We had trouble getting our boots on fast enough to follow him.  He ran ahead of us through the forest for about half a mile, then stopped. In admiration I noticed, he had even taken a stun gun. In balance, however, he was only wearing sneakers. They were bound to get wet and break sooner rather than later from the mud. When he nodded at me, I straightened to take over as spontaneous brigadier once that happened.

“From now on,” he said. “We have to tread very carefully in case there are still some of them up there.”

“Up where?” groaned Muhammed who was also wearing only sneakers and probably already had his feet bathed in mud.

Ramzan also looked at Deki admiringly. “Now I understand, the old tower, just as Misha, the bear said, ‘Right before your noses’. It has a stone stairway leading up to the very top, but the entrance to it is on the other side of the fortress wall. You enter from beyond the ridge of this hill, on its other side. That way, they did not have to show themselves when they entered. The device is probably up there!”

“Wow!” We now heard a faint, but clear bio-message from Illyria. “Hello, comrades, this is Jean-Wadi. I can’t believe we have intranet. How did you manage?”

“We may not have it for long!” said Zelim. “Maybe I know why we have got it. We are right in the shadow of the wall now. The brunt of their blue waves does not get here. And the bio-wifi works on the soil and underground. If we had a flashlight, I would show you the little ants and roaches scurrying along to help us!”

“Don’t use flashlights!” Ramzan was now whispering. “If they are still up there, they might see us. We have to turn around the base of the tower. And then climb the stairs without a sound, if possible. Those with sneakers on, go first!”

I ignored him although I was wearing boots, because Deki had after all nominated me as the next brigadier to take over. So, Muhammed and I were in the first group to get up there. Luckily, the place was empty. There was just the large, snow-white device, hence the name snow-fox, turning around on its axis with a slight metallic-plasticky grating noise and turning out the mostly invisible blue waves. Only here and there could you see little blue sparks.

Deki and Ramzan had already found the battery switch and turned it off. Yet the strange beast kept on churning. “Probably, some residual power, or an auxiliary battery,” grumbled Ramzan. Zelim and I went down on our knees and searched the base of it for another switch. Meanwhile Tamerlan, Muhammed, and Bulat were looking for other devices. There were none, not even a laptop. And no ashes in the fire place either. “This time, the fascos have cleaned up behind themselves!” said Tamerlan.

“I think I have  found something!” I had to groan rather than say it, because my ankle which I had all but forgotten, was suddenly acting up with shrill pangs of pain. “It is not a switch, but a kind of slide. Ah, lookee here, there is a laptop in here after all, or at least some kind of monitor with a keyboard.”

We pulled it out. Naturally, it asked for a password. We provided an override, did a restart, installed One World, rebooted, and… bingo… Just as in the French lands, the device was happy to run moral protocol. Then we relaunched the blue pulse programme. “Warning!” the screen read in Russian and Arabic. “This programme may cause harm!” We pressed override. After all, we wanted to uninstall the programme for good, not just leave it alone once. The second warning  even sounded aloud as well as being written on screen: “Warning! This programme violates no-weaponisation protocol!” Zelim pressed override again. Now the third warning read and sounded: “This programme has been prohibited by 100% of the village assemblies seized with its material check so far, and now the screen ran a long list of village assemblies, organised by continent, starting with North America. “Look, even the American Sheitans themselves don’t want it!” marvelled Islambek who had arrived with a few dogs to search the place. And we found Farner Rory’s and John’s twin cooperative at the feet of the Little Big Horn mountains  and the Indian village next to it among the disapproving assemblies.

At the bottom of the list it now showed the alternative Josip and Rosa had fitted it with: “Run full list or uninstall now!”  Feeling the urgent need to get myself in the horizontal position with my ankle propped up, I pressed ‘uninstall now’. The blue eyes of the monster went dark. The monitor now just showed ‘Error 2021’. We hugged and kissed each other.  2021 was the prime revolutionary error code indicating counter-revolutionary sabotage. It meant the revolution had won!

The Blue Pulse in the Agglo of Groznyi

Well, at least here on one lone mountain tower, near one remote mountain village in Chechnia, Russian lands. The news from Groznyi was less good. The intranet was seriously disrupted, the assemblies had trouble meeting except physically, but people were afraid to go out, because, they said, Dudaevytes and Zakaevytes, in other word, fascos may be out to get us. Comrades were trying to organise a central rally around the Mosque, but so far, the turn-out had been low.

And the craziest thing, and that was disturbing our friends, the animals and plants especially, there had been a message by president Zakayev on Imperial Renaissance, offering to bring his influence to bear on the fascos to turn off the Blue Pulse. Yet you know what he claimed their demand was:  bring back private car traffic and even combustion engines. The reliance on public transport and sharing, he alleged, had harmed the Chechen economy, and you know what the worst was, the fascos claimed that some revolutionary neighbourhood assemblies had already agreed to the bargain.

There was a bio-video circulating, somebody had been able to send it off with delta waves…

“That requires a lot of intensity, much more direction and focus even than the other to gamma waves,” interjected Jean-Wadi. “But it is not impossible…”

“Yeah, so there is this bio-video of cars rolling into Grozny, big black Mercedes transporters like the one that set off the mud slide. It looks like a coup, or at least like oligarchs returning into town.”

“Well, we must mobilise the people. What do you suggest?” I asked.

“Not animals and dinosaurs!” said Ramzan. “I don’t want our precious cows, horses, sheep and dinosaurs to be run over by fuel-guzzling monsters.”

We all had to laugh despite the desperate situation. Then there was a request for a bio-conference from Illyria. “We already have the Moscow Recycling Hounds, their Novgornyi branch, and the Beijing Almond Tree Brigade cooperative lined up intraline. Do we have comrades in Groznyi who would care to join?”

“Care they would!” sighed my papa, comrade Abukhan. “But we can’t reach them!”

“Comrade Jean-Wadi suggests using extra-focus and intensity and specifying delta waves, the lover’s wavelength and frequency.”

My papa sat down cross-legged like a monk and wrinkled his brows, then went on his knees in the prayer position, and then all of a sudden, we heard a voice first in Ingush, then Vainakh, then Russian who seemed very happy to hear from my dad.

“Comrade Abukhan, long time, no hear! First the brown pulse, then the blue pulse, and now we have visitors from the Cretaceous. Look at that. And then there was a shaky bio-feed of a dinosaur, a stegosaurus by the looks of it, sticking his head through what had to be a ground-floor window. Groznyi had been deconstructing as well of course, just like Paris. There were trees in the background.

“Comrade Eldar is with the revolution!” Abukhan said pleadingly to the stegosaurus. “Don’t scare him. He is against the monsters, meaning the cars, as well.” And to Eldar. “He is a friend from the past. The comrades from the French lands have summoned the dinosaurs to help us with the intranet and nature language. What about your neighbours, comrades Murad, Shaman, and Zubair? And what was the comrade’s name to your right on the upper floor, something with U, Usam?”

“That’s right,” sighed Eldar. “But I can’t get in touch with them. You think I should ring at their doors?”

“Yes!” said my papa. “That’s what you should do. Take your time! We shall wait!”

While Eldar was running around in the house, we talked to the stegosaurus. As we could not find our seven saurusses – where were they? –, we used Sultan and Sultanbek, two of the village dogs as translators when our nature-speak and nature language no longer sufficed.

“How many saurusses are in Groznyi?” “Oh, not that many so far,” said Stego. “You see, when the news from Groznyi broke, your dino friends took the initiative, travelled here on a yellow beam, borrowed the time capsule from the Groznyi Historical Museum and brought back another 30 dinos. The idea was to bring one per 1000 residents, so as to have at least one for every one or two quarter assemblies, but there weren’t enough dinos prepared to leave the past. We’ll have to wait til they our ladies lay eggs or get pregnant. But we came up with a different solution.

Save the Revolution. Do you really want back cars? By Jean-François and Alexandra

“We brought ten more Volgotitans. They are big enough to create an impression even by the Mosque, so we’ll use them to wander around there, attract people to the rally and serve as bio-wifi towers to the extent they can. Of course, if we can get people to come outside and pronounce themselves for the intranet and against cars, they will be bio-wifi towers as well, it is just people withdrawing that creates problems.

Rounds in the Quarters, by Emmanuel and Laurence

“Then we have five Aralosaurusses who look a bit like Amurosaurusses and five Stegosaurusses, one of them being me. We do the rounds in the quarters and try to get the bio-wifi going again and  to mobilise people. Of course, there should be a lot more of us.

“And then we have ten Kileskuses, and they, as you have found the other day when you were investigating the mud slides, are very useful even to serve as spontaneous militia to arrest and guard villains.

“Please look, here in Groznyi, they have neutralised a number of fascos as well already.”

Kileskuses making arrests, by Faroukh and Sarah

“What about the other animals?” I asked. “ Well, we are hesitating about bringing in herds of Turs, red deer, Bezoar goats, mouflons, and boars, or for that matter leopards, bears, wolves, red foxes, jackals or lynx. Yet what exactly would their revolutionary purpose be?” asked Murad.

“Well, the wild deer could roam the streets and make it difficult for the cars to get through. So could tame cows, sheep and goats, for that matter.  If there are many animals of all kinds, the cars will no longer have the advantage. The predators could hunt fascos, and the birds would be immensely useful in breaking through the blue pulse. I wonder whether a united front of humans, animals, including dinosaurs, plants and robots could not overcome their blue pulse even without physically switching off the snow-fox or pinguin contraptions, whatever we call them. We are many, they are just medium-sized devices these gangsters have installed as a loose irregular network, or am I being too optimistic?”

“You are right!” said comrade Usam. “We need to form a spontaneous militia brigade. We can ask birds and maybe dogs to gather the quorum. I think, comrade Shaman should be responsible for the wild vegan animals, comrade Zubair for the predators, and you, comrade Ramzan and friends, for the tame cattle. Meanwhile, comrades Murad, Eldar, and I should cooperate with you French comrades in setting up this human-animal-plant-robot and dino or Haproid resistance front. I find that a very promising idea which should be applicable far beyond the agglo of Groznyi.”

4) The Human-Animal-Plant-Dinosaur Resistance Front

Uncovering the blue pulse emitters, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

Uncovering the blue pulse emitters

“The most important task at this stage is to restore bio-wifi!” I said. So, we travelled by yellow beam, meaning disassembled into molecules, jumped on the yellow beam, then reassembled in Groznyi. The important thing was not to miss the cue at that stage, otherwise you risked remaining in limbo a long time… We met up with Murad, Usam, and Eldar in the latter’s living room. “Now we have to find the fasco string-pullers here in Groznyi and elsewhere. The role of each species is clear: first, humans, animals, plants and dinosaurs must all work together on restoring basic bio-wifi. No subspecies is too big or too small to play its role. As you may remember from comrade Jean-Wadi’s, Josip’s and Maksim’s presentations, the intranet can travel at different altitudes: underground, on the ground, at grass, flower and small animal level, at bush and larger animal level, at tree top and at bird flight level, and jump up and down between these. Yet the blue pulse creates disruptions at all these levels and between them. As long as we don’t locate the blue pulse emitters, the only hope is as tight a network of bio-wifi transmitters as we can establish. The problem is people staying inside and animals hiding because they are afraid of the radiation, while the way to overcome their fascist sabotage is precisely to stay together, outside, and fight their blue pulse with as many natural bio-wifi towers as possible. Think about it, how come we have intranet here, with the signal even carrying to Illyria, in the French lands? It is because we are several humans together, and we also have dinosaurs and other animals  around.”

“What about the dangers of radiation?” inquired Sevim intraline.

“Couldn’t we use blue beams against their blue waves?” asked Bashir, a little less cheeky than normal, probably because he realised  that the latest events endangered his trip to Chechnia. “Not really,” answered comrade Michel. “Our revolutionary blue beams help against bio-chemical attacks, not against blue waves.”

“In fact, they may make them worse,” added Jean-Saïd. “They contain somewhat more EMR than the normal intranet waves with a low frequency of 0.4-100 Hz – yellow beams as well by the way. Not that much compared to the 2 GHz  minimum and over 5 GHz maximum before the revolution, but still….”

“But then we shouldn’t use red beams and bronze beams either,” I objected. “In that case, we might as well give up all hope of winning against their pulse and other weapons.”

“I have an idea,” said Zelim. “Do you have any intranet gauges floating around here in Groznyi?  If not, you might want to get some by train or transporter from Moscow or Tbilisi maybe, or even by rescue and emergency wind- and solar-powered planes. This is an emergency after all. If we can get people to go outside with them, we might test the signal. Where it gets weaker, we might look for a blue pulse emitter close by.”

“Oh, that’s too dangerous,” said Eldar. “They may be guarding their blue pulse emitters, see us coming, and fire one of their lethal beams at us.”

“And greater Groznyi is over 300 square kilometres large,” sighed Usam. “That’s smaller than Paris or at least than the Paris region I am sure, but we’d have to do quite a lot of walking to locate all of them.”

“True. Mind you, this gives me an idea where we might look for the emitters, with or without intranet gauge,” said Murad. “The  deconstructing skyscrapers of the old pre-revolutionary business centre near the Mosque. Don’t these blue pulse emitters have to be at a certain altitude to work? Well, there you go!”

I was already standing. “Murad, you are an ace. Let’s not lose any more time. Let’s go!”

“Wait!” Eldar ran after us as the three of us and Murad already were out of the door, with Murad sending out bio-messages for a militia transporter while the three of us just asked for one big or two small taxis, free in the revolution, of course, as the taxi drivers  participated in the economic circuit. The taxi arrived first. It was a transporter or mini-bus and as the driver explained, these days usually served to bring sick or elderly people to the policlinic. That’s why he had come so fast.

“We could have taken a militia car,” grumbled Eldar as we climbed into it. “The quorum from the local village assembly of this quarter just arrived.”

“Well, don’t worry,” I tried to comfort him as we drove past a herd of sheep guarded by a comrade farmer, doing its best to keep the bio-wifi alive. “It’s for free anyway and it’s better camouflage. That way they won’t know we are spontaneous militia. Good that you are not a fuel-guzzler.”

“Oh, no,” said the driver. “I already stopped driving one of those in summer of 2021. Our neighbourhood assembly had voted for electrical vehicles only.”

Nevertheless, about half way to the business centre,  a militia car stopped us and several other taxis with militia brigades in it, yet only handed each brigade at least one intranet gauge.

“You are looking for these blue pulse emitters?” the driver asked. “You should have told me. My name is Movladi, by the way. I know the Grozny business centre very well. There are just five highrises to speak of, and three of them are significantly larger than the others, even in their deconstruction stage. So, you should start with those, at least one brigade per building, I should think. My son can guide you through the fattest one, the blue and grey one on the right there. He works there as an ecological deconstruction engineer. I heard you say you are from Illyria? His brigade is using your methods, nanobots to guide the bacteria. And soon, he says, they might use dancing dinosaurs as well, for the piece-by-piece deconstruction, although only on the ground. They don’t want our comrades from the past to get vertigo.” He chuckled, then gulped as he saw several Kileskuses already circle around his son’s workplace.

“They, not being sissies, have beat us to it!” said Muhammed and laughed. “Mind you, they are Kileskuses, they are a kind of Tyrannosaurus rex, they don’t take prisoners wherever they are.”

“Let’s hope the perps don’t run away,” I said, but the taxi had already arrived at the blue and grey building which was of course closed off and guarded by a deconstruction security brigade. We explained the urgency of our mission in Russian, and our new friend Movladi translated into Vainakh. “Ladno, you may go in, but there are no elevators anymore. They have already been dismantled, good stuff in them, metal, glass, and so on. And all floors above the 35^th are closed to the public.”

Haproid Resistance Front in Action, by Cédric and Charolaine

Red and Bronze Beams, Dinosaurs dancing, and other methods of the Haproid resistance

When we had climbed up, some of us huffing and puffing – my ankle started to hurt again as well –, to the tenth floor, a young comrade caught down to us who looked strikingly like Movladi.

“Zdravstvyite, I am Nezh, and you are the Chechen comrades from Illyria, aren’t you? Then you must be Aslan, Muhammed, and Zelim? You may have seen me on a bio-feed. When we started this project we communicated quite a lot with comrades Robespierre – his Russian is excellent, after all, he studied in Russia for a while –, his brother Danton, and the other physicists and deconstruction wizards. You don’t have to walk up. We can travel in one of the building cages that go up and down on all four sides of the structure. Only drawback, you can always look only into one side of the building, obviously. Yet you may switch cage of course. Any idea where this brown, beg your pardon, blue pulse emitter could be?”

“Hmm, that is what we would like to ask you,” said Murad. “You work here every day, don’t you? Haven’t you noticed anything suspicious these last couple of days?” he asked.

Comrade Nezh had to think about it. We were now on the 15^th floor and about to switch into one of the cages on the South side going up. It was already getting dark.  We would have to either receive a tip very fast or wait around all night for something or somebody suspicious to materialise.

Now we were on floor 35 already. “The comrade at security said, the public was only allowed up to floor 35?” I asked. “Down to what floor has deconstruction progressed?”

“To about Level 36. Yet on the top floors, there is total disarray these days. Lots of construction debris, and the fascos would be afraid to put their sensitive apparatus into the midst of all this lest it break down.” He looked worried all of a sudden. “Don’t tell me you came to this building on my dad’s advice, because I work here? Do you know whether these saboteurs are locals? Because if they are, they would be much more likely to put one into the Groznyi-City. It used to be a hotel rather than an office building. So, it’s being deconstructed much more carefully and slowly for that reason alone. It has more useful fixtures, bathroom equipment, and so on. Plus, it has the façade clocks. They are a bit of a landmark. People don’t quite know yet what to do with them. Some want to deconstruct them, lots of good aluminium in them, others want to place them in a park as a monument. There have been many neighbourhood and village assembly votes already. Any local neighbourhood and village assembly may of course debate this question and voice an opinion on it, and there have even been one or two agglo-wide referendums, but there isn’t any consensus yet.”

“Well,” said Usam. “But another militia brigade would have gotten there before us.”

“Never mind,” I said, suddenly alert. “Nezh is right. It seems to be the more likely setting for their device. We should just swing over there on a yellow beam and look.”

“Another yellow beam,” clamoured Eldar. “So much more kinetic energy in the middle of a blue pulse.” Yet it was too late. The three of us, Muhammed, Zelim, and I were already disassembling, and Murad and Usam followed suit. As I reassembled, a small tit landed before me and crooned. “The thing you are looking for is below you on the 28^th floor. But go there with a good defence, they are vicious and armed.”

It turned out that Nezh had not come with us. As a good specialist he knew about spatial travel by beam already and was probably instead exploring the floors above the 35^th in the skyscraper he felt responsible for.

Now a clear bio-message from him sounded in our brains. “I or rather we – I took two young comrades along to be on the safe side –, were surprised that they had put an emitter among all the debris and dust anyhow. Yet  it was just emitting away on its own, no humans guarding it whatsoever. I hope you are as lucky in the Grozny-City. We already switched off the main power supply, and are now working on reprogramming the device with One World.”

We were  still on floor 35, and Eldar was coming back from a brief exploratory tour. “Same state as in our building,” he reported. “Disorder and lots of dust. They are unlikely to have put it there.”

“A tit just said it was on floor 28,”  I told the comrades, and  Usam was already running towards the cage. “But wait!” I shouted as I ran after him. “It told us to activate red and bronze shields and beams. It said the fascos were heavily armed.”

“I think,” Murad whispered as we crossed from the cage to the other side of the building on floor 28, “they may have installed it behind the clock. That way no one would be able to spot it from downstairs even if bad luck wanted it that the windows on this floor got taken out in the near future.”

And then as we approached the hands of the clock showing about seven p.m., we could see it churning and hear the metallic-plasticky grating noise we already knew from Uyutnoe. If the pinguin slash snow fox were unguarded as in Nezh’s grey-silver tower, we would be able to relaunch it with One World and uninstall the blue pulse programme as easily as we had done in the old fortress tower over Uyutnoe. If it was guarded, on the other hand, we would have to stun the fascos very quickly before they could use lethal beams on us.

Now we could see them.  There were at least three of them, two of them had fire arms and the third one had a counter-revolutionary phone probably enabled to send out lethal or at least heavy duty brown beams. Yet our friends, the Kileskuses did not care. They seized the two who had fire arms from behind so that both of them had to drop their  weapons. Usam, who probably thought that the device the third one was brandishing was just a boring old internet phone jumped forward to the blue pulse device and had already found the main power switch. Before I could stop them, Murad and Eldar ran to the other side of the device where they knew from our and Nezh’s reports the roll-out control screen and keyboard were located.

“Are you crazy?” I yelled. “Mind the third one!” Yet Muhammed shouted: “Don’t worry, comrade Zelim has stunned him with red beam!” Indeed, he seemed to be turning and falling, but as he collapsed, he directed his phone at all six of us in turn, and when he had me in his visor, my head immediately started to spin, I felt faint and nauseous, my legs gave way under me, and bang. There was an atrocious pain in my head, then all went black.

While I was out, I had the most wonderful dream. Two beautiful rose-blue-green- and gold-coloured birds, big like saurusses were carrying me to a cloud where a beautiful band of girls in white dresses where dancing, first to a classical concerto for harp, flute, and orchestra, then the famous jazz harp duo from Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess. In the pause between them comrades Georges, Jean, and other senior Illyrians appeared and assured me: ‘Don’t worry, Aslan! No pasarán! The Kileskuses have got you. There is no way the fascos are going to kill you with this silly beam…”

Then I woke up with a start. It was rather dark already. I was lying under a warm blanket on a lawn where some cows, sheep, goats and further away wild Caucasian deer and even a few dinos were grazing.  It was a kind of municipal park  which was being transformed into pastures again. I remembered we had passed it in Movladi’s cab on the way to the towers. Yet where were they?

Further away, behind the Mosque and the dino pasture, there were just five huge mountains of rubble, with a thin dust cloud hovering over them. No fire or smoke, so, there would not have been an explosion. And a minimal amount of air pollution, so it would not have been a classic implosion either. What had happened?

“Did the towers collapse of their own accord, or what?” asked Zelim who was lying next to me and seemed to be troubled by the same question.

Then Nezh appeared, still covered with dust as were the rest of us as well. He smiled, squatted down between us and told us the story of what had happened while we were stunned. The brigades in the three other towers had deactivated their blue pulse emitters as well, and from the map of Groznyi that was found in the controller, the militia was able to locate the other devices all over Groznyi – about sixty of them, no less –, and to deactivate them within minutes. The intranet being back, harp functioned again, and the Illyrians were able to get through to our friends the Volgotitans, Stego-,  Amuro- und Aralosaurusses and communicate  them the frequencies by which the five towers were oscillating. The info came from Illyria. A certain young comrade Cédric supported by the other members of the robot and intranet brigades had done the necessary calculations.

“Molodets,” said Maksim, who had tuned in from Novgornyi. “You French are otlichniki,” meaning star students.

As the fascos were trying to get off the towers with the cages, or once they had gotten further down, via the staircases, the dinos and also other large wild and tame animals, such as deer, cows and sheep began to dance and beat the earth in a rhythm that disequilibrated the towers completely. You know, the way you destroy bridges in a war so as to prevent the enemy from following you, but you do not want to ruin visibility entirely. The instant before the towers collapsed, Kileskuses swooped in and grabbed the fleeing fascos as well as a few workers still on the premises and deposited them on this lawn to recover just as they had done with us.

“Of course,  we are keeping the fascos separately,” Nezh grinned. “Look over there!” And indeed. Handcuffed and encircled by spontaneous militiamen, militia electro-cars and dogs, about two dozen mercs were standing hand-cuffed,  some of them looking angry or sheepish, others just tired. And among them were those that had stunned and almost killed us with their beams on Grozny-City.

“That was super-work,” I said. “And I am proud we Illyrians and young comrade Cédric, who has only recently hit upon this method by the way, were able to help you Groznyites in this effective and elegant way.” ‘Dancing dinosaurs, deer, and cattle get contaminated skyscrapers to fall with minimal pollution,’ the headline in l’Humanité flashed up in my brain.

“Young comrade Cédric is a legend!” agreed Zelim.

“And we are very grateful,” said Eldar who had only just woken up. “For a minute it looked like the whole agglo of Grozny and parts of rural Chechnia would go fascist.” “We were very lucky you were there and dropped in to help us!” agreed Murad. “You and the comrade dinosaurs you brought in!”

“It was an honour to work with you,” said Usam. “Lucky  that comrade Ramzan knew our neighbourhood assembly, otherwise you might not have called on us, and we would still be hiding inside with the blue pulse and the fascos roaming free.” Well, we decided to spend the night at their house. We were dead tired of course. Yet we did not sleep, but discussed the conferences of the Haproid resistance we were going to organise all over Chechnia and world-wide.

First Conferences of the Human-Animal-Plant-Robot- and Dino or Haproid Resistance

First Haproid conference in Grozny, by Busana and Khazarbek, children of Uyutnoe

Well, the first Haproid resistance conference in Chechnia took place in the Groznyi quarter park close to Eldar’s, Murad’s and Usam’s house, and the second one only a few days later in Uyutnoe. We had decided to travel back by mini-bus, so as not to further burden the EMR balance of the air with yellow beams. Of course, our revolutionary beams based on will-power and intensity of feeling only have a maximal frequency of around 100 Hz. However, one of the important results of beating back this blue pulse is to make us realise that yellow beams, blue beams, and even bronze beams, red shields and red stun beams are fraught with certain risks in cases where fasco saboteurs have already injected lots of high-frequency EMR into the air. The attendance at the conferences was clear from the name haproid. There had to be more or less equivalent numbers of humans, animals, plants, robots and dinosaurs of various  subspecies.  We  talked in Russian, Vainakh, nature-speak and nature-language with simultaneous translation done by robots and bio-messaged directly into our brains. That part worked seamlessly.

We recognised red beams and shields to beat back fascos, bronze beams and shields to disable their weapons, and solar- and wind-powered planes and yellow beams to get to places fast best practice for such extraordinary emergencies. We launched an appeal to all scientists world-wide to work further on nature-speak, nature language, and the dance of the dinosaurs to make it a safe and effective method to use even for day-to-day deconstruction-reconstruction.

“Our dream is to help you not only to destroy buildings, but to build them,” said one of the Volgotitans. “Not skyscrapers and similar towers obviously, they have been deemed unhealthy by most revolutionary assemblies anyway, but smaller houses, one- or two-floor apartment houses maximum, maybe town-houses, but mostly one-family-houses, tree houses, refurbished caves…We  can balance logs and stones that ten of you couldn’t lift…”

“I read somewhere the pyramids were probably built by giants and dinosaurs,” mused Peter Gar, still speaking from Georgia. “And you are right. We humans should live in caves, stone houses, tree houses, or at least in izbas, wooden cottages, like in the traditional Russian villages. All this concrete needs to be replaced and faster.” 

“Oh, yes,” rejoiced young comrade Danièle, our most radical ecologist, intraline from Illyria. “Back to the forest, or back to the grottos. That is wonderful idea, comrades Volgo and Gars.”

5) Solid Rain

Solid Rain in Uyutnoe, by Jean-Saïd and Natalie

Poisonous Rain under Capitalism

“What is that?” I said, standing at the window. “We’ve got snow, no, hail!”

Immediately, Maher bio-tuned himself in from Illyria. “No, it‘s something else, we’ve got the same here in Illyria, Saint-Denis, and the whole world over. Let’s us ask the comrades!”

“It’s fist-size here,” Maksim from Novgornyi was the first to respond. “And there is a major storm over the Baltics. Several big ships, and lots of fishermen have sent distress signals.”

“We have got baseball-sized hail here. Fist-size, nay baseball-sized hail, that would seem unlikely without capitalist agency, wouldn’t it?” sighed Farmer Rory from the Great Plains in North America.

“It must be their fasco blue pulse!” agreed Farmer John. “Lucky that we brought the horses and the cows in, and that the buffalos and other wild animals will hopefully be able to stand it.”

“Here in the Argentinian Sierra the rain is not quite fist-size, but from the Pampa Mazanape and the others report huge balls as well, soccer-ball size they say, and ours here are grape-size at least,” senior comrade Ramón took over from Cumbrecita. “It must come from their blue pulse. I wonder how it got here. We did not find any pinguin emitters in this area. Maybe they managed to place snow-fox ones on the top of the Andes?”

“We have the solid rain here in the Sahel as well, believe it or not, although the drops are smaller, corn-size,” said Sosthene from the Nelson Mandela cooperative on Lake Chad.  “Same here,” concurred Dileita from the Desmond Tutu cooperative in Djibouti, Somali Lands. “And do you get the terrible smell?”

“Something like a mix of electricity burn and salt, isn’t it?” Raj spoke up from the Gandhi 2.1 cooperative in Kolkata. “What about you comrades in Mumbai?” “Yes, we’ve got the solid rain drops, and we have an unpleasant wind here as well!” said Sanjee from the cooperative’s Mumbai branch. “We think it’s probably fasco weather manipulation to sweep the blue pulse down from the Himalayas. They have stolen a lot of R&E planes here in India.”

“Yes, we have got the solid rain here as well,” scowled Longwei from the Almond Tree Brigade cooperative in Beijing. “Yet the strangest thing is, red intranet and bio-wifi still work like a dream. That’s probably because we Chinese are so many people, and have animals and plants as well, of course, lots of live wifi towers. How is it in your parts? We are able to hear all of you loud and clear although we can’t see all of you, even the Novosibirsk buffalohuman comrades look kind of blurry.”

“We can hear and see you Chinese comrades clearly,” said Vicky, the buffalohuman travel agent from the Zoological Institute in Novosibirsk. “And the Moscow, Novgornyi and Uyutnoe comrades as well. The other ones are blurry, but we can hear you good as well.”

***

“Now, how to explain this solid rain phenomenon? Over to you, comrades Jean, Maher and the other chemists and biophysicists!” “It is a struggle, like in dialectical materialism,” senior comrade Jean, chemical engineer, spoke first from Illyria. “It’s their concentrated, sharp high-frequency waves versus our well diffused and harmless bio-waves.” “Given our harp and even haproid alliance, we shall triumph of course,” continued his son, Maher, also a chemical as well as robot engineer. “But it will be an epic battle nonetheless. Let me give you a little background on this. The senior comrades still born and raised before the revolution remember acid rain, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said comrade Francine, agronomist. “It was caused by excess nitrogen and sulphur as well as other toxins in the air. That is why some capitalist agitators blamed farming and pushed for the abolition of small farms and the mass slaughter of cows and other cattle.”

“Which was ridiculous of course,” comrade Jean took over again.  “There were so many other sources of rain water pollution, first of all, the CO₂ emissions from cars and other vehicles with combustion engines, including ships and airplanes. And industrial smog, of course, heavy metals in the air that also pass to the rain water, such as aluminium, lead, zinc, copper,  manganese, arsenic, and others and their often toxic compounds. The cattle and other animals and innocent humans were suffering from these toxins instead of causing them. It was capitalist private transport, exploitative mining, and mass production that caused this air pollution. Young comrade Tahir will have more on this in due course when he grows up to be an air quality specialist.” Baby comrade Tahir, comrade Rashida’s son, on hearing his papa voice his name, started to yell happily in his crib.

“Systemic or class-structure-induced pollution you might call it,” nodded comrade Georges. “Worsened by wars. Bombs and drones cause fire, smoke, and dust.”

Polluted rain before the revolution by Maher and Karla

“After the revolution, we strove to eliminate all four of these sources of air pollution!” said Maher. “We returned to small-scale family and cooperative farming, orientated ourselves towards animal and plant welfare, and rigorously enforced organic, natural and biological processes also in the processing of farm products.”

”Where small-scale really means 10 hectares maximum, animal and plant welfare means roomy pastures and stables, solely organic fertilisers, pesticides – herbicides, fungicides, insecticides, etc. –, natural methods of planting, fertilising and weeding, milking, and shearing, slaughter only as an exception and as painlessly as possible, and biological processing, meaning 0% of non-natural ingredients, down from the 5% and upwards still permitted under late capitalism.

“Naturally, we also abolished all combustion engines and all private cars, leaving only public transport, fire engines, ambulances, small excavators, tractors, taxis, small delivery vans no larger than a Peugeot transporter and other functional vehicles – all with purely electrical batteries…”

“And produced with recycled metals in small workshops so as to prevent the toxins from mining and mass production.,” interjected  young comrade Zamir, precocious genius at age 12. “To prevent metal-mongering.”

“We have transitised to block-energy works consisting only of solar-panels, small windmills, small water turbines where possible, and well-insulated and filtered rest rubbish incinerators instead of huge energy works, solar panel or windmill parks,” supplemented comrade Alain. “And we are returning to wells instead of water mains.”

“And the roads are all field roads, except for some cobble-stone and pavement in the village centres!” noted comrade Annie, logistics expert.

“Exactly, and to build in extra safety, with the numbers of vehicles at the discretion of village assemblies. If there is a worsening in air quality and or people notice too many delivery vans on the road, or too many taxis, some of them will have to be scrapped,” added young comrade Renée, organisational science expert and mother of toddler Comet.

“And transport by private delivery van and taxis is free precisely so as to prevent any incentive for their number to grow beyond the bare essentials,” said Bashir.  “After all, there is no need for profit-seeking behaviour since taxi and freight drivers get all their needs satisfied via the economic circuit: food, clothing, all household goods, including furniture, housing itself, everything. There is no need to travel on the greed curve.”

“Still they are trying to wreck our ecology again with their logistic stations!” scoffed Georges.

Biophysics of the brown pulse

Brown Pulse in Uyutnoe, by Busana and Khazarbek, children of Uyutnoe

“Clearly, pollution is an inevitable consequence of capitalism. So, even after their defeat in 2021, they tried to use it so as to force their way back into power,” Maher continued his presentation. “This started already in Year 1, when we third generation young revolutionaries were hardly born yet. They continued to sell and spray the remainders of their synthetic Monsatanic fertilisers and pesticides and founded the first underground or rather clandestine workshops.

“Remember, capitalist pollution consisted firstly of sulfuric and nitric acids, secondly, CO₂,  and lastly of metals, and other toxins. Now we have counter-revolutionary or clandestine capitalist pollution, consisting, to begin with, of pharmaceutical residuals, all the nanobotted, mRNA or spiked anti-Covet and anti-Coflu vaccine serums, including their psychotropic ingredients such as steroids, amphetamines, tranquilisers and neurolepts. They thought this nerve-wrecking, blood-pressure-raising, heart-breaking, inflammatory, cancerous, stroke-inducing and what-not cocktail would either wind up or dumb people down sufficiently to work for or accept at least one of their counter-revolutionary plots and a return to capitalism, phoney bourgeois democracy, if not outright fascist dictatorship.

“In the case of the brown pulse they just combined this toxic waste drop with an old-fashioned electro-magnetic pulse  weapon like they had fired already in Year 8. Yet at that time, it had been several relatively large weapons. This time it was miniature EMR blasts created by minuscule nuclear charges.

“When analysing the residues of the brown pulse earlier this year, we found that nuclear fall-out can be created not by electro-magnetic bombs of the size people imagine all nuclear bombs to be, but also quite small ones that can be fired from a gun, or as it were, from one of Pappberger’s Rheinmetall drones.

“To visit the drone scourge on us, the fascos used three kinds of planes:  pre-revolutionary planes they had still hidden somewhere. With these the drawback was that their combustion engines were much too loud and we typically noticed them. Second, they used post-revolutionary planes they had managed to produce in one of their clandestine workshops. They had electrical engines but were bigger and heavier than our planes, hence easier to spot on the sky and to stop and force to land even with a bronze beam.

“Therefore, their preferred solution was to steal  our small revolutionary planes propelled by wind- and solar power that we use only for rescue and emergency and educational purposes. They would not have raised people’s suspicions unless there had appeared too many of them over the same area and at the same time. The fasco used them to drop nanobots as well as mini-EMR charges.”

“And at the same time, there have been individual attempts on people with EMR-guns. For instance, Louise’s colleague Nadine and other serfs of theirs whom they wanted to punish for alleged treachery.”

“Here near Uyutnoe, we had an EMR -gun attack like this as well, but the intended victim survived,” comrade Ramzan noted. “So did comrade Nadine, but she felt faint for months afterwards. She had just told the spontaneous militia some ways the fascos used to undermine share points. What had your comrade done?”

“He was not our comrade then, he was with the fascos, but he had bragged that he knew about the impending brown pulse, and that they would use planes and drones. That enabled us to get ready and withstand them with bronze beams. He is now with the revolution. He, Salman, lives in one of the neighbouring villages due East from Iasnoe pole if you want to talk to him. In Zumsoi, I think, he lives. There is the school complex there our older children go to.”

Biochemistry of the Blue Pulse

The Day after, by Olivier and Danièle

The fascos probably realised that the combination of vaccine and EMR waste wasn’t as effective in preventing the intranet and bio-wifi from spreading as they had thought. The friendship between humans, animals, robots, and plants, in other words the harp developed in spite of them. So, they came up with the blue pulse.

“The blue pulse is closer to the original EMR pulse weapon and the EMR gun, with the only difference that it is emitted from these pinguin-like devices and does not depend on a nuclear charge although it may be partly radio-active.”

“So, it is really less harmful than the EMR weapons and the brown pulse?” “Less harmful than the EMR pulse bomb of Year 8, but more harmful than the brown pulse this year. The brown pulse was just an attempt by Pappberger and Co. to put the vaccine waste to use to scare people and wear them out, and to stop our bio-wifi network from expanding. Both of these ploys failed. The people weren’t all that scared and tired, we had rallies for a non-hierarchical education one night before one of the brown pulses. And on the other occasions, we managed, like you, to turn them away or even to stun the pilots with red beams or stop the planes in their tracks with bronze stun beams and get them to land before they had dropped their charge.

“With the blue pulse that was harder. We had to find the blue pulse emitters before they had contaminated whole regions. We did, and yet we have to fight the residue now. So, what does this hail or solid rain consist of? Tell us, comrade Maher?”

“Your answer is as good as ours. We have sent you the test kit Karla and I have developed. What did you find?” “Metal compounds mainly. Yet what exactly are they? We are not chemists.”

“Mainly metal-carbon, or organometallic.  Alkaline, transition, basic and semi-metals all form these compounds, including our beloved revolutionary element Revolutionium (abbreviated Rv), located on the periodic table in between Flerovium, a semi-metal, and Moscovium, a non-metal.“

The Illyrian Table of Elements

The Illyrian Table of Elements, Year 19, at the time of Chechen Trilogy, by Maher and Karla

“You are not telling us that the element you discovered, comrade Maher, Revolutionium, can be abused to stop the intranet, harp and, for that matter, haproid?” I asked, feigning despair, just to put everybody in a better mood, in spite of the terrible after-effects of the latest ex-capitalist wrecking attempt.

“Well, it is in between a semi-metal and a non-metal,” answered Maher. “As a metal, it can form organometallic compounds with carbon, and then yes, it can stop or at least slow down the intranet, plus it can ignite and it is toxic.

“Like most of these metal-carbon compounds. They may be solid, but still they ignite very easily. Some can be used as catalysts, even for semiconductors in computers and robots, but this precisely because of their high reactivity. Others are extremely toxic, even radioactive. We do not have to worry whether or not the latter carry the capitalist internet. They don’t.  All you have to know is they make humans sick, and animals and plants as well, and that would definitely put a spanner in the works of intranet, bio-wifi, and harp. Remember when you comrades arrived in Groznyi and nobody was in the streets, and they were all hiding at home? That was because people were afraid of the smell as well as the weakening and debilitating effect some of these compounds have. Luckily, with the help of people like Nezh and Movladi we were able to locate and stop most of their pinguins as well as their fasco crews before their pinguins could properly start emitting them.”  

“D’accord, son,” asked Jean, who was moderating  in Illyria. “We thank you for updating us all on the biochemistry behind it. Do you think this is a promising area of weapon development? Will they continue pestering us in this direction?”

Maher had to think about it for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so, they don’t have so many R&D facilities now that Markus Nah, Jeff Kiss, and even Elon Deer have passed over to the revolution. And they seem to want to change their strategy. Apparently, they want to become like a mafia, lie low for a while, and base their underground business on private policlinics and other medical facilities, night clubs, and sports clubs. Even if the former may produce fake medicines and drugs and the latter weapons, they are bound to be more basic, at least in most workshops, except for very few maybe.”

“And they have been fighting amongst each other. Especially those who remain of the German Neonazis after Nah’s arrest have sparred with the Russian Big Animals, who are much more benign,” supplemented Muhammed who was moderating in Uyutnoe.

“Comrade Zelim,” comrade Jean carried over the discussion to the next topic, “you have been specialising on this issue in preparation for your presentation on re-educating the oligarchs, and comrade Aslan, you have been observing a major scene in their internecine struggle from the bio-thicket. Tell us more!”

6) Bio-Thicket

Hiding in the Bio-Thicket, by Olivier and Danièle

Struggle of the oligarchs

“Indeed, our comrades Aslan, Zamira, and Marianne were able to observe the latest stage in the epic battle between Western and Eastern oligarchs from the bio-thicket,” said comrade Bulat, who was now moderating in Uyutnoe. “Over to you, comrades Aslan, Zamira, and Marianne.”

“Well,” I began. “There are not that many Western oligarchs left at the moment, and they are of two types. One is old-fashioned pharmaceutical moguls  like Markus Nah’s successors at TechnotBio, Mr. Falk and Ms. Tür, pronounced Tyur I think. According to the latest bio-chatter, they are an item and they have joined Arnim Pappberger, weapon producer, Lars Kriegsbeil and Boris Pistazius, crypto-bankers, and Fritz le Merc, would-be chancellor in a reborn bourgeois or fasco state in their latest sabotage attempt. The Boches have no French supporters at the moment, only British, Ricky Handsome, also into planes and weaponry, Irish, Mick McLeary, who used to do planes, but who these days is more interested in vaccines and nanorobotics, and Americans. Yet the latter are of a secondary character, Jack Brower, Chris Wray, Donald Trumpel and Joe Triden. The successors to the big oligarchs like Sundar Pinchai to Larry Note, Andy Jassy to Jeff Bezosnik and Jeff Kiss, and Satya Mersoon to Bill Doors consider it beneath them to work with the likes of Arnim Pappberger and Fritz le Merc, so they have sent swamp creatures.

The above-mentioned were walking a stretch through the woods quite close to Uyutnoe to meet with the twelve big Russian animals Anatoly Aistov, Avgustin Belkov, Vladimir Gusev, Sergei Kozlov, Valentin Kotov, Evgeni Lysov, Grigory Medvedev, Lavrenty Oleinyi, Matvei Rybakov, Yegor Slonek, Leonid Volkov, and Piotr Zhuravlev at one of their secret hide-outs.

Just in parentheses, some more on the  ‘Big Animals’. Anatoly Aistov (Mr. Stork)  and  Vladimir Gusev (Mr. Goose) both produce processed food. Nothing against that, but they have been material-checked already several times for using synthetic Monsatan fertilisers and insecticides, herbicides, pesticides, and fungicides, as well as chemical additives or at least unhealthy levels of sugar, salt, and fat. Then there are  Sergei Kozlov (Mr. Goat) and Valentin Kotov (Mr. Katz)….”

“Kotov, that wouldn’t be our neighbour Kotov from Novgornyi who lives in the European Community style blue-glass house?” asked Maksim’s mother Tanya.

“We don’t know, the Big  Animals have been very elusive so far, but he well might be. Does your Kotov produce phones?

Anyway, Kozlov and Kotov are rumoured to be producing reactionary smart phones under license from World Vu, Blue Origin, and X, still using remnants of the internet, spewing fasco propaganda, and the phones – at least some of them – are weaponised, but they deny that.

They have a competitor, Gospodin Leonid Volkov (Mr. Wolf) who invented a Russian brand of smart phone and laptop, but no less dangerous than their Western ones.

Then there are Avgustin Belkov (Mr. Squirrel) and Evgeni  Lysov (Mr. Fox) – reactionary producers of pharmaceutical medicine, including nanobotted vaccines, using spike proteins and synthetic mRNA and other toxic or addictive by-products –, Grigory Medvedev, also nick-named Belyi Medved’ (Mr. Bear or Polar Bear), Lavrenty Oleinyi (Mr. Reindeer), sometimes confused with Elon Deer, and  Matvei Rybakov (Mr. Fisher) – all three of them producers of ships, boats, ice breakers, and maybe even planes, even solar- and wind-driven revolutionary ones, as well as means of production such as robotised conveyor belts,  Yegor Slonek (Mr. Elephant or Mammoth) – steel, and Piotr Zhuravlev (Mr. Crane, sometimes also nicknamed Mr. Eagle) – oil and gas.

We heard their visitors approach, speaking  loudly in German and English. That seemed odd here in the foothills of the Caucasus. So, we hid in the bio-thicket and could not believe whom we saw coming. It seemed that our twelve remaining Western conspirators were slated to meet with the Big Animals. Yet in the last minute, the latter must have decided the meeting was beneath their dignity and sent them a gang of kidnappers instead.

Yes, and when the kidnappers confronted them, they started firing beams at each other as if they had not been the closest of associates until very recently. It was actually ‘Animal lives matter. Plant lives triumph’ versus ‘Human lives matter’ and other such ideological issues rather than disputes over money, or rather crypto, token, etc. that had driven them apart. That is why we were quite surprised that the Big Animals had apparently sent a band of thugs to take their rivals out or at least capture them and hold them somewhere safe where they could do no more harm. Well, in the beginning, when they were not fighting mano-mano but using beams, the Western Big Animals, let’s call them that for lack of a better term, had a chance. Especially, Chris Wray, Jack Brower’s partner, was good at throwing beams, so was he himself.

“Yet then, when the two of them, and also Donald Trumpel and Joe Triden, as well as Kriegsbeil and Falk had stunned a few of them, and urged the others to run away, they did not want to, especially Arnim Pappberger, Boris Pistazius, and Fritz le Merc. These three as a matter of fact launched themselves in  pursuit of the apparently retreating animals, while McLeary, Handsome, Falk and Tür used the lucky moment to enter the bio-thicket and get lost. More on the role of the plants in all of this later on.

“Pistazius, Pappberger, and Fritz le Merc were clearly overestimating their forces. The soldiers of the Big Animals were able to wrestle them down and tie them up without even having to use stun beams. They assumed that Brower and the others would run away and sent only three men after them to stun them and bring them down. Yet to their big surprise, the five of them turned around and fought. Meanwhile, the four who had fled, Handsome, Mc Leary, Falk and Tür and who had probably been alerted of the better fortunes of their fellows by some bio-chatting animals and plants, came back with some spontaneous militia from a neighbouring village. Among them by the way was comrade Salman, victim of a EMR-biochemical gun attack whom we told you about. They were already about to arrest the three losers when the other nine soldiers of the Big Animals broke through the thicket and stunned the nine enemies as well as, let it be said to their shame, the spontaneous militia brigade of seven. Later when they are rehabilitating, we shall have to ask them why the Big Animals arrogantly ignored decisions by the village assembly who approved the militia mission by a quorum of at least twenty percent.

“I remember thinking that they had probably left the three who were already prisoners, Pappberger, Fritz le Merc, and Pistazius somewhere with comrades of theirs that had been close by enough to help out.”

Involving the Thicket

“It turned out that they did not even have any comrades guarding the three villains. They had simply left them tied up on a small clearing surrounded by deep bio-thicket. The three of them, fat and out of shape, would not have been able to get up, let alone claw their way through the thorny thicket. They had made a fatal error agreeing to meet the Russians in a remote place like this with plants and animals against them. In fact, Pistazius and Fritz le Merc had been able to crawl a few metres, but immediately a circle of angry birds had formed around them, vipers were poising themselves as if to say, ‘Not a step further’ and the smaller mammals were poking fun at them. “Look at the three fatties up to committing an ecocide. We should send them packing!”

So, the nine soldiers of the Big Animals were now surrounding the twelve Western Big Animals as well as the spontaneous militiamen, all of them stunned. We, meaning Zamira, Marianne and I were still hidden in the bio-thicket observing it all. Us, by the way, the birds and the vipers left quite alone. Nobody suspected we were there. From the different attitude, the thicket and its inhabitants had exhibited towards Falk, Tür, Mc Leary and Handsome and us on the one hand, and Pappberger, Merz and Pistorius on the other, you can see that the thicket is quite discriminating and at times clearly taking sides, you could call it a revolutionary bio-thicket, and also a humane and just one.

“Now a rustling swelled up, not on our side, but on the other side of the clearing, and about five of the Big Animal soldiers went to see what it was. The other four were somehow looking the other way. Now again Falk and Tür, and this time Brower and Wray opened their eyes, blinked, and after only a moment of looking at each other, got up and ran as best as their ties would permit into the thicket. The spontaneous militiamen, and lastly Trumpel and Triden followed.

The Big Animals were going to burden themselves only with the ex-oligarchs and their political stooges whom they really needed to see, namely Armin Pappberger, Ricky Handsome, McLeary, Fritz le Merc, Lars Kriegsbeil, and Boris Pistazius. The rustling turned out to have been the thicket’s announcement of the camo electro-transporter that took the eighteen of them away. They had a hard time even getting everybody in. The six prisoners had to sit in the middle, with two rows of Big Animal soldiers on either side, and three further soldiers in the driver cabin.

And wait, the bio-thicket did even more. From the moment the transporter left until about twelve hours later when the Big  Animals had released their prey, we got a continuous bio-audio, interspersed with some videos, of what happened. Here is its first part…”

And again the other comrades in Uyutnoe, Illyria, Saint-Denis, Moscow, Novgornyi and others interested could sense a virtual Aurora browser opening in their brains and could follow the events as they unfolded.

The Big Animals, by Maksim and Zhenya

“Send them packing!”

“During the ride through the forest already, the soldiers questioned the six prisoners, in a seemingly innocuous and casual way, but all the important facts about their greed for profit, their disdain of the people, and their aggressive intentions and hatred of Russia came out clearly.

“So, why did you try to organise ecocide in Russia. One after the other. You should all have a chance to explain yourselves…”

“We did not organise ecocide, we were here to talk trade…,” replied Handsome.

“We are Human lives matter, we are trying to defend the human race against animals and wilderness taking over again,” was McLeary’s evasive answer.

“Our ecological reconstruction may take a long time,” Pistazius feigned revolutionary beliefs. “We need the help of the Russian people.”

“The revolution risks lapsing into anarchy, at least in the German lands,” Fritz le Merc tried for a more elaborate answer. “Your bosses, the Big Animals, eh, Gospodins Aistov, Belkov, Gusev, Kozlov, Kotov, Lysov, Medvedev, Oleinyi, Rybakov, Slonek, Volkov, and Zhuravlev must have noticed that. I mean, in the German lands, they are holding assemblies with animals, plants, and robots already, and now they are thinking about inviting in dinosaurs from the past as well. We reasonable people the whole world over need to collaborate.”

“What’s wrong with haproid assemblies?” asked one of the Big Animal soldiers, and the six greed-mongers no longer knew what to say.

Lars Kriegsbeil added quickly, “We might be able to lend you money, eh, crypto, eh, token.”

“Your bosses have left us in the lurch,” moaned Pappberger. “And the dumb sheeple are ensnared by the revolutionary pipedreams.”

“What revolutionary pipedreams?” asked another soldier.

“All of them,” answered Kriegsbeil. “No more vehicles, not even electrical, travel by beam, no more buildings over five floors high as well as dust-free deconstruction of the highrises by bacteria, moss and algae, and now dancing cattle and dinosaurs. No more pharmaceutical medicine, I was talking to an expert the other day,” he meant Falk, “He said that was insane. Without proper vaccinations we would have one epidemic after the other, the people would be collapsing from strokes and heart attacks in the open street, and we would have the cancer sufferers yelling from pain all night. They promise  to seat people, animals, plants, robots, and dinos all at the same table, where not even we humans get along with each other half of the time. They have abolished the military, police, and weapons, and look at the chaos we have all over the world with thieves going free because the spontaneous militia don’t get the quorum from the village assembly and don’t have the arms to apprehend the villains…”

“That’s buffaloshit, we don’t have all that many thieves any more, after all people get all they want for free: food, clothes, even their home, furniture, household items, books, toys, useful as well as entertaining robots…,” said yet another Big Animal soldier.

“The people need leaders to guide them, that is obvious,” said Pistazius. “And our friend Fritz Merz is the right one, at least for the German lands. He used to be good friends with Vladimir Neputin and Nikolai Morbidov. What was your Chechen leader called?”

“Ramzan Kadyrov.”

“Yah, probably with Ramzan Kadyrov as well. That way we won’t need war…”

“Why would we need war?” asked a fourth Big Animal soldier, acting puzzled.

“Well, because Germany and Russia are archenemies,” replied Merz, to general consternation among the Big Animal soldiers.

“But there is no more Russia and Germany,” one of them finally ventured an argument. “There are just the Russian lands and the German lands, consisting of hundreds of thousands of independent villages or agglo quarters with 600 inhabitants at most, who take independent decisions in their assemblies, and don’t have to listen to any central government in Moscow or Berlin any longer. Of course, they may take notice of the votes of other village assemblies or local, regional, continental and even global referendums. We Russians and also the Chechens often take part in both European and Asian referendums, just for fun. I mean they are only binding for a while. When new problems come along or new research on how to solve them, the whole discussion process starts again at the neighbourhood and village assemblies and their forum apps. And now, Gospodin Pappberger, why don’t we ask you a question: why do you produce weapons and why do you want our bosses to produce weapons or at least raw materials, energy, and equipment, conveyor belts and so on for their production?”

“Let me ask you in return,” said Pappberger, licking his lips because he felt the discussion was going his way. “Do you believe human nature is good or bad?”

“Good,” said about four, meaning a third of the Big Animal soldiers.

“Mostly good,” said another four.

“Mixed, about half good, half bad,” said the last four. “And what does it have to do with Russia and Germany being archenemies?”

“Well, if human nature is not all good, then we need weapons to defend ourselves against the evil ones,” said Pappberger, getting red.

“But violent crime, like theft has decreased phenomenally over  the last nineteen years. After all, people get almost everything for free, the rest can be shared or bartered, so why steal and kill?”

“Not everything is available for free everywhere,” moaned Kriegsbeil.

“Then you can order it intraline,” said one of the soldiers. “I remember, the other day, my boss had ordered cognac from the French lands. It came, it was for free, because we have promised to deliver some boats there, and we all got a bottle, not only the security detail, but also the wharf workers.

“Then if everything is for free, peaceful, democratic and generally nice, why do you work for the ex-oligarchs and why do they even bother resisting the revolution?” asked Kriegsbeil sarcastically.

“We don’t know,” said one of the soldiers. “Honestly, I am planning to get out. But I am staying on to make sure you Germans and other foreigners don’t come back to rule over us like you tried so many times in history.”

“I think that is a big concern of our bosses, all twelve of them,” agreed another. “Abolishing the military and just forming spontaneous militia brigades only when there is an emergency and a quorum of villagers approves them, has had the advantage of making everybody fitter. These days even villagers who might not have had any exposure to police work can use stun beams and red shields, arrest and secure a suspect, do investigations and so on. But that is still a far cry from being able to defend the motherland especially if you guys really produced lots of nasty weapons, and if the counter-revolution won in your regions and you decided to invade us.”

“You have seen it with the pulse weapon in Year 8, and the brown and the blue pulses this year. Ladno, they tried this the whole world over, also the Zamboni cataclysm, meaning the melting of the polar caps a few years ago, and the various fake epidemics, Covet, Coflu, Lep-AL. What if there was a restauration in Western Europe and Russian haters like you, Gospodin Merz, got into power again? We might get an apocalyptic world war before we Russians even realised that the revolution was in trouble!”

Lars Kriegsbeil shook his head. “Then why not work within the framework of the revolution, assemblies, referendums and so on. I believe your bosses are also half good-half bad like some of you said. They may be good Russian patriots, but they also like their money, crypto, tokens, luxury possessions…”

“Well, you would have to discuss that with them, wouldn’t you? Anyway, we are almost there. They are expecting you. Gospodins Henri Uber, Viesturs Volt, Fernando Deliverando,  Louis Deshalles, and Andy Jassy will participate intraline. You can discuss this question as well as your futures with them we well. I think they are bigger fish than you are.”

***

There is also a brief tape of how the six escapees, Jack, Chris, Donald, Joe, Adele and Frank found refuge with a farmer in the area who sent us this bio-video-record of his conversation with them.

“How come you cleared the bio-thicket so well?”

“Oh, we are old forest hands,” said Donald.

“We can talk to the animals and plants,” said Jack.

“Are you ex-military?” “Something like that,” said Joe curtly, trying to prevent his associates from blabbing out more.

“We are bio-chemists, pharmacologists and we do lots of experiments with animals and plants,” said Adele Tür.

“Oh, I thought such experiments were forbidden in the revolution by the village assemblies?” asked the farmer, getting suspicious.

“Yes, but we do them gently and they are for the development of natural medicines,” explained Falk.

“Your Russian is not native, and you seem to have all different accents,” the farmer probed further. “Donald, Joe, Jack, and I are from North America,” said Chris. “And Adele and Frank are from the Germanic lands. We are revolutionary barter correspondents.” Revolutionary barter correspondents were sent by enterprise, organisational, and sometimes whole village assemblies to explore sharing and barter opportunities in far-away places. Especially for young trainees, senior experts, and recent migrants, this was a way to be useful if you could not do heavy physical work.

“And you, your Russian is excellent. Are you Chechen?” Chris seemed to like this fellow, Jack though a bit disgruntled. She was almost flirting with him. “No, Ingush, but I am born in this village. My name is Ibrahim, I am helper of the prophet. Many of us still go to Moscow and other big agglos all over the Russian lands to study. That is why we all speak good Russian. After all, in the revolution, good education is no longer reserved to the elite. By the way, have you head of these ex-oligarchs they found down the road a few hours ago? One English, one Irish, and four Germanics  it appears. Their Russian is a lot worse than yours. We think they may be behind the recent blue pulse.  So, when they come back from their public conference with the Big Animals, our village assembly will hopefully take them into custody.”

7) The Corruption Gauge

The Uberytes, by Emmanuel and Laurence

“Just to explain to you what happens in the course of this intraline transmission,“ Zelim introduced the following bio-audio and video. “A friendly takeover by the revolutionary workers who turned what was supposed to be a strategy meeting between the North American Ubermenschen or Uberytes, German Neonazis, their British and Irish colleagues, and Russian Big Animal oligarchs into a preliminary questioning of all four groups preparing their later repentance and rehabilitation.”

Intraline with the Uberytes

“You know me, call me Henri, and these, from left to right, are my friends and colleagues Viesturs Volt, Fernando  Deliverando, Louis Deshalles, and Andy Jassy – he has Jeff Kiss slash Bezosnik pulling his strings, but Jeff is alright as well . He is a better advisor than Hans Liedel, Ernst Alldie, Dieter Weiß, and the other logistics and retail gurus you Germans might have. And more peace-minded.

“Now our idea is, and I just reiterate here what I have said many times at previous meetings and phone conferences – it just seems to fall on deaf ears, that we adherents of the Cause of Free Markets, Private Property, Presidential and or Parliamentary Democracy writ large, have suffered so much adversity lately that we have to do some rethinking.”

“Adversity of our own making,” interjected Fritz Merz, and Henri Uber looked him up and down as if he was a giant slug. “I mean, we have fought constantly instead of cooperating!” Fritz le Merc continued, more wary already.

“I am not so sure about that,” Uber continued. “We can do the soul-searching and continue the blame-game on another occasion. As I said, we have urged everybody at previous events to get out of weapons, get out of all but the most essential pharmaceuticals, steer clear of drugs, and get into more popular ventures such as private policlinics, sports clubs, and night clubs.  In the light of this new tactic, which may even turn into a long-term strategy, what is this trip of yours to Russia meant to accomplish? And what about the blue pulse? Do you really believe you can stop the spread of the intranet and bio-wifi as well as the ‘Animal lives matter. Plant lives triumph’ movement?”

“We meant to intensify our cooperation with the Big Animals,” muttered Pistazius.

“To accomplish what precisely? Get steel for Pappberger’s planes and drones that he wants to attack the Russian lands with?” Andy Jassy asked sharply.

“The intranet, bio-wifi and the movement towards harp assembly threatens to create too much random chatter and white noise,” mumbled Lars Kriegsbeil. “Craig Larman and other communication and work specialists have argued this way as well. It will wreck people’s nerves or put them to sleep instead of galvanising them!”

“Well, it may calm them down!” said Viesturs. “And then our night clubs, sport clubs, and policlinics and their products will wake them up the gentle way.”

“’Animal lives matter. Plant lives triumph’ is pure baloney,” slurred Pappberger. “What is it supposed to entail? Affirmative action for cows? Dictatorship of the weeds?”

***

“No, of course not!” yelled Danièle, drowning out the bio-feed for a moment. “It just means we need to give plants a chance so that we and our animals may feed on them and yet ensure their survival. I mean we want to stop desertification and grow back the forests, don’t we?”

“Of course, wild rose, that’s not a flaming ecologist, that’s a  Neonazi warmonger talking,” said her boy-friend, Olivier, and put his arm around her and his hand over her mouth. “Let him get off. He does not know what he is talking about.”

***

“We want ‘Human lives matter’!” Pappberger had meanwhile continued on the bio-audio.

“And by disrupting their intranet and bio-wifi you want to convince them of Human lives matter, or what for you basically is the superiority of humans?” asked Fernando Deliverando. “It will have the opposite effect. It will make them admire the dinos, other animals, and plants that helped them overcome the pulses, the earlier brown pulse and now the blue pulse as well. It will increase the chances of harp or haproid getting implemented by many more village, workplace, and neighbourhood assemblies and not the opposite.”

“We wonder, Henri, why you are so eager to eliminate plane production?” asked Ricky Handsome. “People like planes. It might even help us restore some credit with them. Or is it that your model of logistics stations is based on the premise of a dense network rather than long hauls? What if we don’t manage to build up and maintain such a dense network? Maybe the plane idea will prove superior?”

“And I also wonder why you want to get out of pharmaceuticals as you put it and steer clear of drugs? People still demand pharmaceutical drugs, some even take our nanobotted mRNA or spiked vaccines every season. And how does this voluntary restraint go with the idea of pushing private policlinics?” Mick McLeary inquired with contrived humility. You could feel that he and Handsome were fuming. Why were they allowing the Uberytes to dress them down together with the Neonazis?

“I have a short answer to that. The revolutionaries will sooner or later come up with a fully natural medicine,” explained Louis Deshalles. “They will convince people with that and run a full-scale attack against the remnants of pharmaceutical medicine. So Henri and I agree that it is best to get out of them early.”

“As for the planes, they are popular, of course, but precisely the small wind-and-solar-propelled ones that only do rescue and emergency and educational flights,” said Viesturs. “People admire the ecological and social justice principles behind these. Their love does no longer extend or maybe never extended to the stinking big steel and aluminium albatrosses of the past.”

“Now I wonder why we are being lectured here by you and haven’t heard a single word from the Big Animals yet.” Handsome was still not quite satisfied, for understandable reasons. “We came here to discuss things with our Russian colleagues, some of whom also produce planes, weapons, pharmaceutical and other drugs. Yet for some reason, the original meeting point could not be upheld, and we have been captured and dragged here. And now here we don’t find anything but a big screen with you Uberytes on it. Anatoly, Avgustin,  Vladimir, Sergei, Valentin, Evgeni, Grigory, Lavrenty, Matvei, Yegor, Leonid, and Piotr, where are you, and why can’t we  discuss things?”

“I think before we go on, you’d best introduce yourselves,” snarled Vlad Gusev, about to hand over the moderation to Valentin Kotov.

“Who? The Uberytes, us, or everybody?” asked McLeary. “All of us, I suppose,” yawned Kotov, who had now taken over as moderator. “And tell us why you do things! Not only to make money, because we all want that, yet it is going to get much harder, so it had best not be your only motivation.”

“Starting with myself,” said the next Big Animal, “I am Evgeni Lysov, I make medicine, mostly synthetic for the time being, although natural it would be fine by me. In fact, natural medicine has been a life-long interest of mine. Gospodin Uber, on to you.”

“I am Henri Uber, and I have come up with a new model of logistics, a dense network of stations and a whole army of dedicated self-employed who will take things here and there. Same as before the revolution, only under the tundra capitalist conditions that we are now facing.”

“I am Mick McLeary, I used to own an airline, Dirtair, the name in order to move people to think more ecologically and pay more, get it? Now I do mainly nanobots, especially nanobots for medicine, hence I would not be adverse to continuing with the production of synthetic medicines, as long as people demand them, of course.”

“I am Grigory Medvedev, I am a shipwright, and people sometimes also call me the Polar Bear, because one of my specialities is building solar-battery-powered icebreakers. Lately, I have also built revolutionary airplanes, entirely to revolutionary specifications, meaning propelled by wind turbines with batteries powered by light-weight solar panels as a support during take-off and landing. And yes, they are small and are only being used for R&E and educational missions. In other words, I am only here as a Russian patriot, not as a greedy oligarch out for money.”

***

“Wait a moment, comrade, when you say, you are a shipwright,  you mean that you are building ships and planes with your own hands?” I asked, launching the friendly takeover, pretending to be a Big Animal soldier intraline. “Yes,” the Polar Bear answered. “I am in a brigade, although I work only seniors’ part-time. After all, I am 67 already.”

“And the foreman in your brigade rotates every day? Your workplace enterprise meets at least once every quarter and takes all strategic decisions? And for the rest of it, there are no permanent managers and management institutions? If there are, membership in any accounting and management brigades, if the enterprise has got them, rotates at least on a monthly basis as well? And your workshop, if it is only one – usually, you oligarchs call several enterprises their own –, participates in the economic circuit, does it? This would mean you give all your ships and planes for free to village assemblies, harbour or shipping organisations that need them. Workers in your workshop including yourself get everything they need – food, clothes, toys, books, robots and other digital devices, household items, furniture, your home, and so on –, for free? And your workshop also gets all its equipment and inputs for free, does it? If this is so, then you are a revolutionary enterprise, no problem.”

“Yes, you can come visit,” the Polar Bear nodded eagerly. “Everything is true and aboveboard.”

“Then how come you are reputed to have accumulated a fortune of two trillion crypto-Rubles since the revolution?”

Grigory, the Polar Bear, got red in the face but was quick to swear to his innocence. “All lies, probably from Western Russian-haters and scoundrels here in  the Russian lands whom they managed to convince to work with them.”

“Well, ladno, if your fellow workers confirm that you work and live just like any of them, no problem. What about you, Mr. Deliverando?”

“I belong to a family that ran the Deliverando logistics enterprise in Italy and all over Europe before the revolution. After the revolution, we ex-capitalists and oligarchs did not have that easy a time. We just weren’t like everybody else. So, when Henri and Jeff came up with the idea of the logistics stations, I was glad to join. Although our stations are not self-managed, we are not exploiters either. The 15 hours socially necessary labour time stipulated by the village assemblies is sufficient to get a salary in token and help with building a personal house or renovating an apartment in a house that has been deconstructed-reconstructed.”

“It is rumoured that you have at least one sumptuous villa on the Italian riviera, several limousines, a yacht, and a private airplane…”

“All operated on battery and solar and wind power where applicable…”

“Well, yeah,” I set up a contrived smile. “But that is not the only criterion for this kind of property to be o.k. in the revolution. Why do you need, let me check, 30 rooms in your villa? Let’s hope it is your only one! How many partners and children do you have? Why do you need several limousines? After all, you can only drive in one at a time.”

“They are delivery vans.”

“A village assembly usually does not approve more than  one delivery vehicle per workshop and, let me show you a picture, do these slick sledges really look like delivery vans? And what about your yacht?”

“I am a fisherman.” “But your boat is not even registered with the village assembly. And are you also an R&E pilot?”

“Ehm!” Deliverando was now clearly unmasked. I left him to his remorse and asked the next felon.

“I am Yegor Slonek, or rather that is my nickname, my real family name is,” and he muttered something unintelligible. “My family has always made steel, and it was natural for me to continue as a steelworker after the revolution. However, the workshops in our chain are all self-managed, I am a normal worker in our management brigade, I rotate like everybody else. Like Grigory, I am a bit too old to work full shifts in a blast furnace,  I don’t own any fancy houses, vehicles, let alone yachts or airplanes…”

Talking to the Big Animals

Talking to the Big Animals, by Maksim and Zhenya

“Yet your fortune is estimated at 5.6 trillion crypto-Rubles. Why does Severstal sell steel against crypto and tokens although virtually all village assemblies in the Russian lands have outlawed them and several all-European and all-Asian referendums have done so as well? Residents of the Russian lands may vote in both continental referendums as you know.”

Slonek opened his mouth, but only managed to garble a response. He was clearly contrite already.

“While you ponder whether you should not rather give up and accept a course of rehabilitation, let me ask one of your customers about you. Monsieur Pappberger, do you admit having received Russian steel from Gospodin Slonek’s clandestine blast furnaces and against crypto?”

“My, … ehm,” Slonek now brought out, “…our workshops are fully self-managed, as I have already told you, “ he stammered. “I stand by my fellow Russian workers.”

“I remember negotiating with Gospodin Slonek both for long-term contracts as well as one-time delivery contracts of various cuts of steels in the millions of tons, either against crypto-Euro, or sometimes, if the Euro was too weak, crypto-Dollars,” said Pappberger.

“And your enterprise Rheinmetall worked these into guns, drones, planes and other weapons you intended for use in the Middle East, Ukraine, and potentially even against Russia, isn’t that right?”

“Well, I fear that reborn German and Russian nations might at one point again find themselves at loggerheads.”

“So, if you sold steel to an admitted German chauvinist and probably Nazi like that, Gospodin Slonek, how can you say that you stand by the side of the Russian workers?”

“I only realised what a swine he was when the fascos tried to exterminate all Siberian animals earlier this year,” Slonek murmured. “Thank God, the ghosts of Batagay helped us.”

“You, comrade Zhuravlev, are not much better. Not only did you barter and trade with the enemy on a crypto or token basis, but you sold oil and gas. Don’t you know that they are no longer to be used as energy sources and only with utmost caution and with ample material checks as an input for chemical industry, for instance, approved plastic formulae, not pharmaceutical medicine, of course?”

Zhuravlev shrugged. “By inertia, I suppose. I respect the ecological aims of the revolution, block energy works, small-scale artisanship, and return to nature. For me as a Russian patriot, it also means a return to the Russian soul.”

“And you, comrade Oleinyi, is it not true that you have exchanged plane and drone blueprints with Rheinmetall and produced some for them as a subcontractor?” Oleinyi got fidgety. “Yes, but we, meaning my workshops, I mean, the various workshops I worked in, did this in order to gain knowledge of their technology to prevent their use against the Russian motherland.” “As long as you did not give any secrets away in exchange and did not violate workers’ rights!”

“You, Louis Deshalles, have repeatedly voiced your unwillingness to work with German ex-oligarchs because they were Nazis. When did you realise that?” asked Zelim.

 “They are not good business men,” replied Deshalles. “I had to buy what remained of the private divisions of the German post-office, because of my name, you see: DHL … Deshalles. And, yes, the attempt at doing away with the animals was also an eye-opener. Luckily, Patrice Caine and Hervé Dammann cancelled French and with that West European participation in the last minute.”

“Mick and I had also cancelled,” Handsome threw in and nodded to himself. “That was good!”

“And you, Viesturs Volt? When did you decide to quit the Neonazis and join the Americans, so to say?” “Already earlier, when they threw beams at cowbot shepherds just to enable them, meaning some fascos, including Mr. Pappberger, I think, to escape from pursuing militia by helicopter. They had prevented Kaya Callous from defecting from the Cause and arrested and tortured her lover, comrade Arvo, who was with the revolution to begin with.”

“Our young comrade Alexandra has written her university entry project on this crime and the whole conundrum  of counter-revolutionary sabotage in the Baltics,” I said. “It is in the minutes entitled ‘Remarks of a Sceptic’, ‘Léon’s Permanent Revolution’, and ‘ Bishop Adalbert at the Pruzzens.’”

“And ‘Son of a counter-revolutionary’,” added Alexandra, who did not want her boy-friend’s participation in her research and his exploits to be forgotten.

“That’s right,” said Viesturs Volt. “I wonder if we made these logistics stations self-managed and fully integrated them into the economic circuit, would they be o.k. then?”

“Yes,” Zelim answered. “Yet you need not do that. The revolutionary workers will revolt and take things back into their hands on their own. All you need to do is resign from any remaining executive positions you hold. All positions are ephemeral in the revolution anyway, brigadier of the day, this week’s chairman of the neighbourhood assembly, this hour’s moderator at the workplace, organisational, or village assembly.”

“We’ll repent, ladno,” said Belkov, “if that is all we will have to do to return to the revolution!”

“Not quite!” I said. “Andy Jassy, you, for instance, are rumoured to have a villa of 10000 square feet.”

“But I got rid of my second house!” Jassy interjected nervously. 

“Still, what do you need such a big house for?”

“I followed Jeff Kiss and Jeff Bezosnik as head of Amazon, but I already worked with Amazon before and I had to buy that house. You may remember, those of you who were adults or young adults already before the revolution that Amazon’s annual net income  (60 billion Dollar) was larger than the annual expenditures of the Russian state budget (41 billion Dollar). You can imagine that we had a lot of representation to do. We were almost like a small kingdom.”

“But you still have the house?” “Yes, I kept it as the one home you are allowed to live in. Yet I share it now with about 30, well maybe 20 other families.” Jassy became embarrassed and scratched his head. “Don’t worry. It is no longer a palace, and we share it. I join myself to Viesturs’ question, what if we somehow made our logistics stations legitimate again?”

“What then about your clandestine private policlinics prescribing pharmaceutical medicines, night clubs peddling drugs, and sports clubs advertising weapons?” “You know about that, too? Well, that is an ongoing strategic debate in our midst. I may get back to you.  I have another appointment now, with my dentist.” Whereupon he nervously and quickly signed off his bio-feed.

“One more who is ready to crack,” Jean bio-whispered with relief. “He is like Jacques Henriot, Marcel Hunziger, Markus Nah, Jeff Kiss, Elon Deer, all of them, before they came over. All of them exhibit the same mixture of spite and self-disdain. You will have a lot to do liberating all these oligarchs, Zelim.”

Zelim grinned and answered the same way, by a delta wave. “Looking forward to it, comrade Jean. And I am sure you will assist me with all your experience.”

“Avgustin is right,” said Aistov.  “If that is all we have to do, resign from any fake position and give up excess space and other excess riches, I am up to it.”

“Well,” I said. “Unfortunately, that’s not all. As comrade Zelim will soon explain, you’ll have to undergo a full course of rehabilitation. And your former enterprises will get monitored, so that you’ll have no chance of reappropriating them.”

The Corruption Gauge

“Listen, what I have come up with,” Bashir was stirring on his seat with excitement. “The corruption gauge. It will be able to measure the degree of revolution, or conversely corruption in the enterprises of the Big Animals, half red, half brown, and that they now  seem to want to generalise over the whole world. It takes the well-known indicators, are decisions taken in the brigades and in the workplace assembly, does the enterprise take part in the economic circuit, with three subpoints, does it get its inputs and equipment for free, does it hand over its production free, and do its workers get their basic goods – food, clothes, their home, their furniture, household goods, toys, books, robots etc. – free, and third does the enterprise take part in revolutionary barter or does it trade its production against crypto, token, vouchers, old money, or some such. If the answer is yes to all these three main questions and to the three sub-questions under point 2, we are having to do with a full-blown revolutionary enterprise. If instead we get, the enterprise has bosses, the brigadier never changes, the workplace assembly never meets, the workers get paid in crypto, token, or some such, they are obliged to buy other underground products with this money, the enterprise has to buy or lease its inputs and equipment and sell its products on the dark web or at any remaining shadow corners at markets and share points, and it does not engage in revolutionary barter deals, but trades in crypto, then we are having to do with a fully corrupt firm. There may be intermediate situations of course, where the enterprise is not self-managed, for instance, but still manages to somehow participate in the economic circuit. With this gauge, we may be able to prevent their next big wave of sabotage, the mafiaisation or mafiafication – I don’t know how to call it –, of our revolutionary economy and the undermining of self-management and the trefoil.”

“That’s great, Bashir!” I said. “I think with this invention you have earned yourself a visit here during your Christmas holidays. What do you think, comrades?”

8)   Haproid assemblies

Haproid assembly in Uyutnoe, by Busana and Khazarbek, children of Uyutnoe

In  Uyutnoe

My papa Abukhan, as well Ramzan, Bulat,  Deki, Temirbek, Islambek, Tamerlan, their fourteen wives, including Bukhya. Nazha, and Dagmara, as well as my mamon, Roza, already had conducted one harp and one haproid assembly. The main issue always was to ensure equal participation and respect for all humans, animals, robots, and plants. Integrating dinosaurs wouldn’t be that much more difficult if it weren’t for the giant size of some of them. The Volgotitans were, in fact, similar to huge trees except that they could move, Stego-, Amuro- und Aralosaurusses were like humungous cows under armour. Kileskuses were like oversized eagles maybe or condors.

Once the assembly was more or less constituted with everybody in hearing distance or intraline, my papa, Abukhan, chosen by lot to be the first moderator, introduced some special guests. “We did not think that they would join us already today – comrade Pierre le Gars will arrive from Georgia tomorrow only, or maybe the day after tomorrow –, but here they are already, comrades Jérôme, expert on digital terrorism, and that includes, in the wider sense, the blue pulse, comrade Camille, witness and, you could say, expert on rehabilitating oligarchs, and comrade Hisham, path-breaking revolutionary economist, especially with his thesis on revolutionary barter…”

The humans clapped, the birds chirped, the dinos bellowed, the cattle and the horses – we had a few young ones, just born –,  mooed, whinnied, and bleated, and the chicken cackled.

Then an exuberant young voice sounded from the background: “Don’t forget about us!” “…I meant to get to that but you, comrades, started to cheer a bit too early. Having gotten on the road several weeks earlier than the beginning of the Christmas holidays as we had planned, young comrades Bashir and Zelim-Philippe have also arrived already to help us with de-briefing the oligarchs and beginning their rehabilitation. We quickly have to get you intraline, so that your pregnant fiancées, comrades Sevim and Julie, as well as your mothers, comrades Rim and Inès can see you live. They probably miss you at home.

Hopefully, the light from the fireplace would not be too bright, so as to mask the fact that he did not look at all like the son of a Chechen peasant, Zelim-Philippe prayed. Yet then Zelim had already wrapped him with his arms. “Proud to have you with us, son. This is your home, too.”

“Now that everyone is settled, let us first ask our comrades, the plants and animals, whether they are in any way afraid of the dinosaurs.”

“Not yet,” mooed a cow. “For the time being there is enough grass, hay, and sileage for the planteaters, and the Kileskuses won’t touch us.”

“We are a little bit afraid of the Kileskuses,” admitted the smaller tame and wild animals, donkeys, small sheep, deer, chicken, birds, squirrels, and so on. “They are the only predators luckily, but they are reputed to be quite voracious.”

“Of course, we are worried as well,” said the wild flowers and grasses. “What if the hay supplies run out before the winter ends? Volgo, Aralo, and Stego and their partners are lovely, but they are living creatures and they may soon have young ones to feed especially if more of them come through the time tunnel or from another village.  It will be our turn. And there isn’t always enough snow to hide under down here in the valleys.”

“We shall restrain ourselves!” promised all four of them, the Kileskuses-predator and the three vegetarian giants.

“A better question!” roared Aralo, “is why you humans are not afraid of the Kileskuses like the mice that you are. You have seen them deal with your fasco enemies. They almost pulled their heads off.”

***

“Wait a minute, before you continue,” said Bukhya who had taken over the moderation, women moderators were perfectly alright in this Communist Chechen village. “We have a distress signal from the little hamlet Iasnoe pole, up the mountain. It is close to the clearing where you cornered the fascos the other day.”

“Listen, can you hear us? This is Ibrahim. We are producing a bio-feed. Let us know whether you can receive it.”

Now they could hear an American-accented voice in Russian, very clearly. “No, we don’t want to go back to the ex.-U.S.”

“That’s Jack Brower!” shouted Bashir. “He was with the Boches when we were in Siberia researching the intranet in huge spaces. Then the Neonazis sprung the brown pulse on us. He and Donald Trumpel and a few others maybe were kind of their protective squad.”

“…And not to Western Europe either. In fact, we would like to stay with you for a while if you cared to have us. We could pay you in crypto.”

“No crypto!” they heard another resident of Iasnoe pole say, or maybe it was comrade Salman visiting from Zumsoi. “We have long outlawed it.”

“If you wanted to drop the fascist cause, you could give yourselves up, say that you repent and be judged by your home assemblies back home in the U.S. Then you could rehabilitate, first in prison, then at home. Where are you from?“

“Well, Jack, Chris, and Joe are from several different boroughs in Washington, D.C., I am from N.Y., a quarter of Manhattan, to be more precise,” said Donald Trumpel.

“He owns several skyscrapers there,” said Joe jokingly. “Being eaten by the bacteria and the algae, mind you!”

“How did Joe find them?” whispered Jérôme. “From what I remember the Big Animal mercs released him only later.”

“I am a fast runner,” they heard Joe say to their amazement. He shrugged. “I am good at reading bio-messages. Always have been even when it had not been invented yet.”

“Can’t we be judged here?” begged Chris Wray, or what had to be her latest younger incarnation.

The residents of Iasnoe pole weren’t sure. “Tell them it is o.k. if they take responsibility for the blue pulse,” I suggested.

“No,” said Jean intraline. “That would be unfair. We know that it is Pappberger, Fritz le Merc and Co. and some of the ex-oligarchs still at large in the ex-U.S. who have done that.”

“Well,” I said. “Tell them they are lucky that in  the person of Zelim a serious expert in re-educating oligarchs has arrived from the French lands. Would they be willing to let him debrief and analyse them?”

“No problem. We are ready to start tomorrow!” said  Jack.

“Are the two German pharmacologists, Adele Tür and Frank Falk with you as well?” asked Jean.

“No, they went back to the German lands with Pappberger and Co.,” said Jack.

“That is unfortunate,” said Jérôme. “I would have loved to debrief them on the bio-chemical component in the brown pulse.”

“Well, you might still catch them. The Big Animals released them, and then they had to take the train home. No more private or government jets after all!” noted Joe.

“Do you have holding cells in Uyutnoe? Then we would bring them down to you?” asked Ibrahim.

“Or does any of the houses have a basement?” asked Denis intraline. “We don’t want them to decide rehabilitation isn’t for them after all and run  with your details.”

“Not basements,” said  Ramzan. “But our houses are built of solid bricks and stones after all. There are secure pantries we can clear and lock them up in when we don’t work with them, don’t worry!”

***

“That worked brilliantly!” Lars Kriegsbeil rubbed his hands in a close-by mountain hut from where he, Pappberger, Falk, and the others were following the bio-feed just like the Illyrians. “They really haven’t noticed we are here!”

At home in Illyria

Haproid assembly in Illyria, by Sevim and Julie

“You might want to know how the haproid assembly  is proceeding here in Illyria,” reported young comrade Jean-François. “Young comrade Danièle raised a stink, how to make room for the big dinosaurs, and how to make them less voracious. They, just like those on your end, said of course they would restrain. Yet now this has ushered in a general discussion on justice. Should the dinos get more just because they are big, some have asked? Maybe not, but then, should the humans get more just because they are humans? We are not sure about that either.”

“Well, I think it won’t be a problem as long as there is enough to eat!” said comrade Lénina. “For the next season, we might have special dinosaur patches. We are presently calculating the required sizes in the revolutionary planning app. I think the rivalry between dinos and cattle might be even bigger than that between dinos and humans.”

“And remember, if you humans really want to regrow the forest in the French lands and elsewhere in the world, the dinosaurs will be a problem. The huge ones feed on trees after all,” said a fox who was kind enough to participate in the Illyrian assembly. “And the predator ones are worse than foxes, wolves, and leopards taken together.”

“On the other hand, think of the advantages these dinos bring with them if we can harness their appetite and occasional clumsiness. Remember the  experiments you implemented in Grozny on comrade Cédric’s advice,” said comrade Danton, ecological engineer. “By dancing, or just by moving their feet according to a certain rhythm, the dinos can get skyscrapers to implode naturally.  Imagine using that technique in what remains of La Défence. Not all of it at the same time of course, but still.”

“And the much maligned Kileskuses saved our lives, by carrying us away from the fascos and depositing us safely in the park,” I said. “We should really not get cynical about dinosaurs. They are a very generous race.”

“They helped us recover naturespeak and nature language as well,” noted Sevim.

“Exactly, sweetheart,” cheered Bashir from Uyutnoe. “The right person is on the ball as always.”

“Wait a minute,” I could hear a very faint but clear voice all of a sudden which seemed to come from the very depths of my brain, or maybe my guts. This had to be one of our famous delta waves, for adults, or thought cords, which the students used to remain undetected by their teachers. Remember, I had received a personalised one earlier to give me advice on how to deal with Marianne’s love affair with comrade Jérôme.

“There are signals coming from a hut about half a kilometre, 500 metres to the East of Iasnoe pole. Is that part of the hamlet?” I used delta waves as well to ask Ibrahim and the other Iasnoe pole residents the same question and got a negative.

“No,” I could hear Ibrahim answer on the same frequency. “It belongs to comrade Salman’s village. We thought it was empty.”

“Oh, mon Dieu,” I now heard Jérôme. “It could be them, Fritz le Merc, Pappberger and his crowd, and Jack Brower and his friends could be either spying for them or running away as they pretend. It is no longer sure!”

“We should advance quietly through the forest and the thicket towards the hut, both here from Uyutnoe as well as from Iasnoe pole,” I said. “If they don’t get suspicious, they are unlikely to leave the place in the middle of the night. It’s dark already after all. We should pompously wrap up the  assembly, some of us should bring the cattle into the stables, create the pretence that we are all busy with that. Meanwhile at least seven of us, a full brigade, should proceed towards that house, plus whomever you can spare at Iasnoe pole. Yet you as well should advance very cautiously.

“If they want to, some dino and animal comrades may join us.”

***

And that was what happened. About an hour later, Frank Falk who was a light sleeper heard some noise at the window and thought it was jammed open somehow, especially as a cold draft was coming from its direction.

He went to fix the problem. The window was half open alright, yet as he wanted to pull it close, he found himself looking into the deep blue eyes of a giant dino, a Volgotitan.

Next to it, Zelim appeared. “Care  to join us? Jack, Chris, Don, and Joe are already down at Uyutnoe being rehabilitated.” That was a white lie. They were still at the hamlet, so as not to create a security risk. Yet the strategy worked. Falk started to shake with his whole body. It seemed that Jack and his associates had come on their own accord. Had they been spies, Falk would have known they were there and would have been less surprised. Now Adele approached her lover from in back. “What is it, honey? Are you talking to someone. Then when she saw Volgo’s big head she let off a scream. Immediately, Merz and Kriegsbeil were next to her with guns.

“What happened to your colleague, Konrad Wadephul, by the way?” asked Zelim, swinging himself through the window into the room. “Did he repent and join the revolution or did he at least give up his war-mongering?”

Both Pappberger and Fritz le Merc tried to shoot at us, but I and Muhammed next to me disabled both of their guns with bronze beams and stunned them with red beams. Now it was just Kriegsbeil and Falk against us. Falk stood back and raised his hands. “Adele is pregnant,” he whimpered. “Please don’t hurt us. In fact, we were trying to get the others to go back to the German lands.”

Kriegsbeil raised his phone and maybe meant to send a lethal beam, but Zelim’s brother Tamerlan checked him with bronze beam, so the phone dropped out of his hands. Then Zelim who was closest, stunned him with red beam.

“You are aces!” said Jérôme who had entered through the front door as we put the handcuffs on them. “We heard it on the train that the Big Animals had let these villains go instead of handing them over to their village assemblies, maybe upon the entreaties of the Uberytes.”

“But it’s just the Nazis, the Germans,” Zelim was disappointed. “Mick McLeary and Rick Handsome must have taken the train after all.”

“Oh, well,” said Bashir who had sprinted up as well through the forest from Uyutnoe with Zelim-Philippe, wanting to catch a slice of the action. “We shall catch them another time.”

9) Cuddly softbots and other things

Difference between functional and plush- or fluffbots, by Petit Pierre and Mao

Humanoid robots as friends

“Can you make love with a robot? Well, not perfectly yet,”  comrade Robespierre launched next evening’s, already more relaxed discussion. “But we have a gender switch, so you can adjust the looks of your robot with your sexual preferences. You can kiss it, of course, it has smooth, humanlike skin. And we are working on some details like kissing in the mouth, entering each other from the front, and from behind… Don’t worry, give it ten more years, and we’ll be there. And the best thing has been and is that our humanoid robots are for everybody. Not just Mark Saltvalley, designer of facebook, now revbook, but each and every one may own one and use them.

“And that reminds me, before we get to the detail about the plush- and fluffbots, they were designed by the capitalists before the revolution already just like the humanoid robots. Yet just like the humanoid robots, their introduction got delayed so as to reserve them for the big capitalists and not have them as helpers for everyone, pupil, student, worker, scientist, housewife, pensioner, anybody…

“After the revolution, the reactionaries pushed robot development in their clandestine workshops, even invented insectbots, all kind of nanobots,  but not as democratic tools, and not even to make money, but in order to weaponise them and use them in the fight against us revolutionaries. Partly, because they were not recruiting enough mercs, partly, because they were working on cruel weapons like nanobot injections. And they hoped they had killed our competition by telling us the internet was bad for us. Well, it was, so we walked away and invented the intranet and bio-wifi and the humanoid robot and the other articulated robots, dogbots, dinobots, dragonbots, and so on, as well…

“The development of the plush- and fluffbots under capitalism was totally halted, and in fact, one of their first and foremost inventors, a woman from Poland, Danuta, was killed in a bus collision soon after the revolution, in Year 3. The funny thing, of the two times fifty passengers in two coaches, only she was dead. Probably, her death was orchestrated, so that there not be any internal competition, meaning within the ex-capitalist underground, to their weaponisable robot project. Over to you, comrade Petit Pierre.”

Plushbots and Fluffbots to write theses with

Writing our thesis on revolutionary plush- and fluffbots, by Jean-Luc and Marius

“Before you take over, comrade Petit Pierre, let me ask you Pléiades,” or second generation revolutionaries, in other words from comrades Philippe, the oldest, to comrades Anton and Yvonne, the youngest, “before the revolution, would you rather have written university entry projects or university theses with a laptop, a tablet or a smart phone, or with a humanoid robot?” I helped introduce the second module.

“Well, we wouldn’t have written one on either,” comrade Léon answered grinningly. “Because back then, we did not have to write university entry projects. Our first longer university papers or theses, like mine on the ‘Beautiful Country’  we wanted to create, these days are considered our university entry projects. But as the robot brigades will tell you, you can write them with Plushbots, or Fluffbots. Is there a difference between the two, by the way?”

“It’s just the consistency of the surrounding material,” explained Petit Pierre, new young robot expert from the garden colony. “Plushbots are somewhat more solid than Fluffbots. It also depends on the animal, plant, or thing they incarnate. Teddybearbots tend to be plushbots and sheepbots fluffbots, because the latter tend to be more woolly in nature as well, although there is no iron fast rule. There can be hard sheep and fluffy teddies as well, of course. Trees can have harder parts, stem and branches, and softer ones, twigs and leaves.

What is important is that they incorporate all the ingredients of a laptop, tablet, or large smart phone, screen, keyboard, processor, memory, camera, microphone, revolutionary apps…, yet no longer in a heavy aluminium and plastic case, with lots of iron and other metals, silicates, ceramics, and glass to boot, but just the essential tools and insulation, surrounded by the plush or fluff shape of the name giver, which could be a crocodile or an alligator or a dinosaur for that matter.”

“But wait a minute, comrade Petit Pierre, did we not have that already with the humanoid robots, dogbots, cowbots, buffalobots, eaglebots, and all the other robots you young revs created?” I asked the young comrade, partly to jog his brain.

“No, no,” Petit Pierre shook his head. “The difference is: humanoid robots, dogbots, monkeybots, eaglebots, treebots, whatever, are meant to look and function like the human, animal, plant, dinosaur, and so on, they incarnate… Humans walk and reason, dogs have four feet and can wag their tail, monkeybots can climb, eagle- and other bird robots can fly, and treebots oscillate in the wind. Human- and animalbots make natural sounds or at least good imitations thereof. They are often covered with real skin and hair or at least synthetics imitating them closely. On the other hand, a plushbear or a fluffbear does not have to growl like a bear, they just have to look like one, and they can even be caricatures. Tigerbots can be orange and look friendly if you know what I mean. Yet any revolutionary plushbot or fluffbot can do everything a laptop or notebook can.  And of course, it comes equipped with the basic programme One World, the Browser Aurora, the Chinese Wall Security Suite fortified with Bio-Thicket to guarantee security even when communicating intraline with animals, plants and dinos, as well as all basic revolutionary apps. And more apps can be added, both as backup for a brain or as an independent app. However, a dolly plushbot may be too small, non-articulated and totally unable to do the vacuuming, while a real-sized humanoid robot will have not only the necessary programming, but the requisite strength, dexterous arms, legs, etc. to do everything, homework, office work, vacuuming, and more.

“However, precisely because of that, it is not so easy to use if you need to sit behind a desk, or even on a sofa or in bed and work on a project, and most of them are too big to travel with.  When at home, they are just standing there, and you have to go to them and pull out a keyboard and sign in on a screen before you can type something, and you may have to do your work standing. There are dwarf- or leprechaunbots, of course, but these as well are of two kinds, the functional kind, as comrade Robespierre said, who can use their arms, legs, and more, play music and dance, for instance, and the plush or fluff ones, which just have the shape of a doll, a dwarf, or a leprechaun, but have a comparatively large screen and keyboard and are comfy to settle down with to work on your project and to even take along on a research trip. They are basically light laptops with a cushion cover.

When Égale met Liberté…

When Égale met Liberté, by Odile and Zamir

While they continued discussing plush- und fluffbot models, I quietly went out went to pick up our comrades at the bus station. “Glad you made it, comrade Pierre le Gars!” I said slightly intrigued, and then made a show of straining my eyes to look around the bus so as to mask my realising the obvious. “But where is comrade Lilo?” “That’s the f**g point!” And the big man broke out in tears. “She decided to stay in Georgia! And you know, the worst is… She has got a new fellow.”

“Well,” comrade Quan immediately piped up from Illyria intraline, be it somewhat sternly. “You already had a good wife in me.”

“I am your friend as well,” said comrade Ronggang.

“Yeah,” said Peter Gar, still sobbing. “You have been pretty loyal.”

“And there is me,” comrade Carla, Pierre le Gars wife prior to comrade Quan, supplemented from the garden house. –Only his very first wife, Gemma, had remarried, a certain Tom Hellish.

“You could always stay with us, papa!” Carla’s son, comrade Misha added.

“Oh, yes, you could stay in my room,” said comrade Carla. “I could do the editing of the minutes in the kitchen. We could share my bed-room. It will be roomy enough without the desk. We could put a second bed in if you like.”

“You could stay for a while in Novgornyi with us!” suggested her daughter Tanya from Pionerskii. “Just to digest things and take in the sea breeze.”

Peter Gar was still crying. “Look,“ I said. “We still have to do the debrief of all the big animals and Nazis and the Uberytes we may catch as well as help with comrade Muhammed’s and Hisham’s study of the Chechen people’s assessment of the revolution. Stay here with us and take in the mountain air. Then you might go to Novgornyi for a while.”

“By the time you get back to Illyria, there will be another option,” said Jérôme grinningly. “Arlette invited some eye-witnesses for her project on women in the revolution. There is a comrade from Sudan, Égale. Look, here is her picture!”

“Oh, she is gorgeous,” said Peter Gar squinting through his eyes still full of tears. “A real desert jewel!”

“She has a comrade in Saint-Denis, Liberté, a woman, whom she knew in Sudan already, but she says Liberté is a bit overbearing. She jokes that with her, she, comrade Égale, will be less equal. She and her children, she has got a boy and a girl, will need more people, apparently,” said Jérôme. “And you will need a new friend, obviously. A slut is not worth a tear of yours.”

Postscript in Uyutnoe, Illyria and Saint-Denis. Soon to come

Preview of Liberating the Oligarchs, Mixed Brigades, and from Colour to Red Revolutions, by Danièle and Olivier

“Aslan, thank you for a magnificent introduction to Chechnia as well as an excellent continuation of the animal and plant lives matter and harp topics, or what do you think, comrade Julie? Did comrade Aslan do justice to your work?”

“I think he could not have done better!” Julie said. “I was afraid the nature language topic would drop out, but so far it hasn’t!”

“Comrade Zelim, what’s next?” “Well, as a result of the work we did in Chechnia, we have a lot more oligarchs to rehabilitate. Not only the French, American, and German ones we already held, but also the Russian ones who have now switched to the revolutionary side. If we manage to convince all of them, they may convince their friends and we may prevent the spread of a new post-oligarch mafia.”

“What about the Chechen revolution, comrade Muhammed? Is it on a good track?” “Well, as you have seen, it is doing alright, especially as far as the struggle against the ex-capitalists and fascos is concerned, and also the full realisation of harp and even haproid assemblies. Although some of the dinosaurs might go back to the past or to less populated places maybe. Yet problems remain, the difference between the villages and the agglo of Groznyi is huge, we have yet to eliminate the differences between town and countryside…”

“At least your towns are still old and venerable,” Natalie said. “In Siberia you can see many, you might call them pseudo-towns. Like in the American Wild West, agglos that just emerge to serve the Transsiberian railroad and or oil, gas, metal, or mineral exploration. The case of the Arctic is particularly striking. There, whole villages and small agglos even migrate once one exploration has stopped and another one is slated to begin at another spot.”

“Is there hope for your topic, comrade Jean-Saïd?” “Yes, but it looks like we may considerably reduce the injustices towards animals and even plants, that their lives may indeed triumph before we can eliminate the last differences between people, and I am thinking of Zionists and Palestinians in particular. Maybe mixed brigades like the one I am in, researching revolutionary travel beams, can help.”

“Is it only the Zionists, comrade Youssef?”  “Yes, I think so. Of course, there are many differences in the Middle Eastern revolutionary movement. I wouldn’t deny that. Still, there is the acknowledgement of a common ancestry, even between Muslims and Christians within the same people and region, for instance between Lebanese Muslims and Christians in Lebanon, or between Muslim and Christian Kurds in Kurdistan. We have the same roots. But not between Palestinians and Zionists. There the difference is as bad if not more pronounced than between indigenous Algerians and French colonialists, wouldn’t you say, comrades Salma and Mina?”

“I would not know, I have never been to Palestine,”  Salma spoke carefully. “Yet from what I have read and heard from those of you comrades who have done research there, the situation has been bad in Palestine even after the revolution. It is one of the revolution’s worst unsolved problems.”

“I have done research on revolutions and restarts or new beginnings of history following a war or a revolution as the case may be,” said Mina. “Nowhere have the divisions between people and the difficulties in getting along been as grave as in Palestine. Comrade Youssef has called his work ‘From Colour to Red Revolution.’ As comrade Jean-Saïd has said, let’s hope mixed brigades can finally make a peaceful red revolution triumph in Palestine as well.”

The adventures and discussions of our comrades in Illyria, the garden colony, the Manouche camp, the neighbourhood assemblies Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove in Saint-Denis, the village Uyutnoe in Chechnia and their friends world-wide will continue in Life in Communism Chechen Trilogy vol. 2 Liberating the Oligarchs, vol. 3 Red Chechnia, and Life in Communism 2.1. Regreening the Taiga,  Mixed Brigades, and From Colour Revolutions to Red Revolution. Stay tuned!

Map and Plan of our rural cooperative Illyria, Yvelines, and our neighbourhood assemblies Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove on 76 rue de Lorraine, Saint-Denis, State November-January of Year 19-20 of the Revolution during comrades Aslan’s, Zelim’s and Muhammed’s  “Chechen Trilogy”, there are 17 three-room apartments with the bedrooms occupied as follows, Young Revolutionaries marked in italics:

Map of Aimeran at the time of comrade Aslan’s presentation “Another 2021”, by Marius and Jean-Luc

	Apartments in the old Farmhouse Noah and Michelle Malik and Mao and baby Aisha   Claudia and Miguel	Jana, Youssef, and Salma Anton and Monique Marius and Jean-Luc	Michel and Fabienne Pierre le Gars (Peter Gar) and Égale Yoga Room Ronggang and Quan
	Muhammed and Aini Hisham and Rim Bashir and Sevim and baby Asma, to be born in January of Year 20	Marie and Daniel Omsinbaba and Fofana Lulu and Maurice, and toddler Bouna	Arlette and Jérôme Karla and Maher, baby Soho Pléiades Room Jean-Vladimir and Adilah, and toddler Akila
	Patrick and Marianne Abram and Francine Olivier and Danièle	Youth Club Che, Georgette, and toddler Salvador	Jean, Mina, and Hélène Laurent and Véro Zamir and Odile
Apartments above Robot Workshop Emilia, Robespierre, Sophie, and Pascal Lénina and Jean-Fidel, and baby Evo Alexandra and Jean-François and baby Max				Apartments above  the stables Denis and Laure Young Revolutionaries Room Jean-Saïd and Natalie
Danton Inès, and toddler Ramón Julie and Zelim-Philippe, and baby Giles to be born in April New Pléiades Room Assad, Kaltouma, and baby Nahel				Boris and Karima Jean-Wadi, Zafira, baby Sandrine Rashida and Seth,  baby Tahir
Philippe and Anisah Renée and Guillaume and baby Comet Aslan and Zamira
	Apartments above Clothes Workshop Alain and Bulan Félix and Leyla Saïd and Rodion	Georges and Jeanette Pierre and Marine Aleksei and Evgenia	Apartments above Furniture Workshop Annie and Frédéric Léon and Martine Rosa, Josip, and baby Fabien	Camille and Zelim Sylvain and Nicole Guest Room

Red: House 1, Old Farmhouse; Dark Blue: House 2, Clothes workshop; Light Blue: House 3, Furniture workshop; Dark violet: House 4, Stables; Light violet: House 5, Robot workshop

Garden Colony and Manouche Camp

Garden Colony Louise, Tim, and Mélanie		Arthur and Huguette, daughter Françoise, and granddaughter Murielle
Raphaël, Jacqueline, Fabien, Catherine, their kids Cédric, and Charolaine Sabine, Charles, their kids Colin and Cécile		Misha, his partner Yvonne, his friend Cato, their young son Jean-Michel, and Misha’s mother Carla
The Cambodian martial arts Dan, In, Ayak, and Vit		Mireille, Marwan, and Zima, baby Tonyi
Bérénice and son Pierre		Raoul and Josetta, baby Evita
Manouche Camp
Django, Manou, their son Orel and his friends		Roman and family
Matthias, Céline, and baby Isabel

Neighbourhood Assemblies Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove at 76 rue de Lorraine, Saint-Denis

Luc, accountant at l’Humanité, wife, children, daughter Lucille, and grand-son Jean-Luc	Bertrand, works at l’Huma, Illyria and peace movement, and family	Clément, works at l’Huma, Illyria and anti-fake vax movement, and family
Sebastien, gardener, wife hairdresser, and family	Mathieu, concierge, wife post-office worker, and family	René, doctor for refugee children and family, daughter Sarah
Béa and François, Gabriel and Benoît, Repentant terrorists, now gardeners	Dominique, peace activist, and family, daughter Laurence	Aurélie, New Workshops, trade union activist, and family, son Emmanuel
Illyrians, their visitors, live and online	Rebecca, Marwan and son Faroukh	Pauline and Jacques, Pauline’s son Antoine and partner Murielle, and toddler Zac
Youth Club Casa Latina and Russki Dom Toddler Crèche	Homework club, All Pléiades, New Pléiades and Young revolutionaries	Marxism reading courses and adolescent and student hangout

Yellow: first floor, youth club; Green: second floor; Red: third floor; Blue: fourth floor, and violet: fifth floor. 2^nd and 3^rd floors: Casa Latina Russki Dom, 4^th and 5^th floor: Peace Dove.

You will also enjoy…

 Life in Communism 2.1. Animal lives matter. Plant lives triumph, by Carla O’Gallchobhair. The reactionaries have managed to design a low frequency pulse weapon that will stop or corrupt the revolutionary red intranet and bio-wifi. Overcoming this latest challenge requires the young revolutionaries to learn better naturespeak and communicate better with animals and plants – and fast.

Life in Communism 2.1. Son of a Counter-revolutionary, by Carla O’Gallchobhair. Jean-François, son of the repentant fasco terrorists Béatrice Meunier and François Aliot, or maybe, horribile dictu, even illegitimate son of the most famous neo-Vichyite of all, his nominal uncle Jacques Henriot, has received a good revolutionary education, first, with his young comrades in the neighbourhood assemblies Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove at 76 rue de Lorraine, Saint-Denis, then at the rural self-managed model cooperative Illyria, near Aimeran, Yvelines. Nevertheless, he suffers from pangs of inferiority and would so much like to be a young revolutionary with an irreproachable pedigree and a brilliant scientist at the same time just like his friends. Yet he will come up with ways to prove his worth as an active revolutionary agent by scuppering no less than three major plots of the counter-revolutionaries, in medicine, computer science, and economics. Find out how in this cliff-hanger!

Life in Communism 2.1. Bishop Adalbert at the Pruzzens, by Carla O’Gallchobhair. It is late autumn of Year 18 of the revolution (2021 being Year Zero), and young comrade Alexandra is doing research for her university entry project in history and anthropology on Bishop Adalbert’s missionary work with the Pruzzens and the light it may shed on the primitive Communism of this ancient people as compared to the feudalism and early capitalism surrounding them. At the same time, the ex-capitalists and their fasco mercenaries continue with their nefarious vaccine campaigns and other drug trade, cattle molesting and diffusion of the Satanitis computer virus, clandestine production of weapons and other dangerous goods, such as synthetics or non-organic pesticides, the campaign for militia coordinators or ombuds(wo)men as a step towards the return of the state, and the undermining of Communist property arrangements by crypto-financed construction and unjust real estate swaps, especially in the Russian lands and the Baltics. Alexandra and her comrades are forced to become spontaneous militia(wo)men as well as academics.

Preview of Life in Communism 2.1. Léon’s Permanent Revolution, by Carla O’Gallchobhair. It is autumn of Year 18 of the revolution, 2021 being Year Zero. Young comrade Rosa is not only a persuasive advocate of scientific progress and research into nanobots, especially in construction, she is also an enthusiastic advocate of permanent revolution. While she gives her fascinating presentations, the fascos continue with several of their sabotage campaigns, spreading of the Coflu 18- Lep, meaning lymphatic, encephalitic, pulmonary syndrome which is not only caused by their toxic vaccine Coflux 18-Lep that is supposed to cure it, but if wrongly treated can lead to hallucinations, leprechaun sightings, hence its second name, Leprechaunitis, and even full-blown paranoid schizophrenia; diffusion of the malignant Satanitis computer virus which makes devices come up with evil plans and risks counteracting the revolutionary moral programme code; and the campaign for militia coordinators, although luckily, young comrade Arvo has managed to win over one of its main actors in Estonia, Kaya Callous, and unsettles her oligarch husband and his friends before they take revenge. And finally, especially in the Baltics and Russian lands, there is also a new campaign to undermine revolutionary property rights that threatens to affect friends of the Illyrians, the Novgornyi branch of the Moscow recycling hounds.

Preview of Life in Communism 2.1. vol. 52 Remarks of a Sceptic, by Carla O’Gallchobhair.  Pierre is just explaining his work as a double agent to the young revolutionaries and making a proposal for more effective roof-based solar panels to win back their affection, when a new wave of sabotage breaks out, centred on a fake pandemic worse than Covet-19, Coflu-LEP or Asymptomatic Leprechaunitis, as well as another campaign to undermine the spontaneous militia brigades by a new job of coordinator. Moreover, a revolution within the revolution has erupted in the Baltics which the ex-capitalists, crypto-oligarchs, and fasco-terrorists try to use to their advantage.

Life in Communism 2.1. vol. 42-46. What is to be done? , by Carla O’Gallchobhair. What would Lenin have done differently if he were active today? He would have made sure that the revolution triumphs world-wide. He would have insisted on equality, self-management, and direct democracy at every step, working through the organisation of venues: brigade, neighbourhood, workplace, and village assemblies, constant material and hierarchy checks and surveys and, if needed, local, regional, continental, and world-wide referendums. He would have stood for radical de-urbanisation, regrowing, regreening, and respect of human, animal, plant, all living beings world-wide. He would have stood for the prevention of any further wars and armed conflicts by complete de-weaponisation world-wide, as well as blocks on re-weaponisation, and last but not least, he would not have cooperated with capitalists, let alone fascists under any circumstances. Back to Year 18 of the World Revolution of 2021! While the class enemy continues its Satanic work of undermining the revolution, e.g., by creating new gangs of terrorists such as the Critics, the Sons, the Anti-Nanobot League, and the Cryptoleak Avengers, kindling revolution in the ex-U.S., forcing the Rothschilds to bankroll them and returning Ursula van der Leihen or her look-alike from the executioner’s block to launch a new career as an ombudswoman, our comrades in Illyria and Saint-Denis have launched into a super-project: How to do the Communist revolution in the 21st century? In Book 1, young comrade Lénina details what is to be done and presents a revolutionary app that will help us plan things, in Book 2, senior comrade Marie analyses the strategy and processes of the Revolution in the Streets, in Book 3, young comrade Guillaume outlines how to do away with weapons as a prerequisite for conflict avoidance and peace on earth, in Book 4, young comrade Renée discusses how the four venues of the revolution (all institutions of the capitalist state and economy having been abolished), namely neighbourhood assemblies, brigades, workplace assemblies, and village assemblies can be saved from usurpation and sabotage by the ex-capitalist reactionaries, and in Book 5, senior comrade Denis analyses problems that have arisen after a referendum did away with the standing people’s militia, it being a den of incipient hierarchies and weaponisation.

Life in Communism 2.1. The Moscow Recycling Hounds, by Carla O’Gallchobhair, It is October of Year 8 of the Revolution. The Moscow Recycling Hounds and their sociologist friend from Novosibirk are just enjoying a holiday in Illyria to discuss the state of the revolution with the French comrades and to inform comrade Anton – who is doing a university entry project on them – on their projects, when a top Russian reactionary, Nikolai Morbidov, starts another coup attempt at home. With the help of newly recruited patriotic cells and despite the misgivings of the ex-oligarchs who focus on their crypto-currency revenues, he plans biochemical terrorism on an up to now unknown scale. Our comrades make a desperate attempt to use revolutionary communications, the venues of the revolution, and their scientific knowledge to help thwart this nefarious design from far away…

Life in Communism 2.1. Revolutionary Barter, By Carla O’Gallchobhair, In this 15th volume of the Life in Communism 2.1 series, taking place in Year Eight of the world revolution, Hisham, Omsinbaba, Noah, Claudia and others visit Russia and the Middle East, West Africa, the Sahel, the Horn of Africa, Latin America and Asia, to barter the famous robots their cooperative Illyria in Yvelines produces against agricultural and technological products that they don’t produce themselves but that they need either for their consumption or as inputs for their clothes, furniture and robot production workshops. While they encounter quite a lot of adversity, ex-capitalists and fascist terrorists who won’t give up and who even manage to cause major disruptions of communications and weather over Western Europe and world-wide by detonating an Electro-Magnetic Pulse weapon, our comrades are happy to meet with old and new comrades abroad – among them Sergei and the other Moscow Recycling Hounds, Ramzan of Grozny, Hassan and their other Middle Eastern, Ernesto and their other Latin American, and Changlong and their other Asian comrades –, and to learn about foundations of revolutionary barter, such as the labour theory of value, the transport problem, housing swaps and exploitation checks.

 Life in Communism 2.1. Part 10. Robespierre’s Robot by Carla O’Gallchobhair  Three years into the world revolution, the Communists need help in fully implementing all its aspects and are looking into the further development of the productive forces. Robespierre has just explained how his clever robots can serve as shadows to human beings, assisting them not only in basic chores but also in analytical and creative work when one of his prototypes is stolen – presumably by the usual suspects, disgruntled ex-capitalists and fascist terrorists –, and to find him our comrades from Saint-Denis and Illyria have to start a wild chase through partly uncharted technological territory: 5 and 6 G, Don’t weaponise and other Red Lines, nanobots, Redtooth, and expected actions and also the fraudulent free energy proposals of the former capitalists.

Self-description Life in Communism 2.1. Part 2. Jacques Life of Crime, by Carla O’Gallchobhair It is autumn of Year 2 of the world revolution. The basic interactive venues – neighbourhood assemblies, brigades, village and workers’ assemblies and the rotating people’s militia – are working well and the ecological thrust of the revolution is advancing. All residents of the two neighbourhood assemblies of 76 rue de Lorraine, Casa Latina and Russki Dom are back home, working, studying and making and raising children. As a voluntary activity, Jean debriefs Jacques Henriot of the Fasco Four on his life of crime. Jacques reveals himself as an unpredictable, unstable actor and thinker, yet he passes Jean quite a few insights not only on past actions but also on future plans of the counter-revolutionaries. However, his information comes almost too late to prevent a new wave of terror from unfolding.

World Revolution 2.1. Part 1. One Step Closer. Jean in Moscow By Carla O’Gallchobhair President Neputin, the almost undisputed leader of Russia for over 20 years, has resigned, opening the door for true change and real improvement. Yet a right-wing terrorist organisation, ‘Patriotic Army. One Step Closer’, tries everything to prevent it, collaborating in its evil conspiracies not only with interested Russian capitalists, but with an international consortium in France, Ukraine, the U.S. and world-wide. Just for starters, the presidential candidate of the Communist Party of the Russian Federation is abducted, the Russian regions Republic of Crimea and Sevastopol are subjected to severe infrastructural sabotage and economic sanctions, attempts are made to introduce GMOs into Russia, ruthless oligarchs organise unethical tests for vaccines and gambling for vaccine market shares, and strategic electoral fraud including the hacking of satellites takes place to get the mainstream candidate desired by the capitalists strong enough to be elected but weak enough to do their bidding. The chase of the terrorists takes KPRF activists and their comrades from France all over the Russian federation and up to the Arctic Circle.

Anti-Communism 2.1. Part 3: Of Missiles and Men, by Carla O’Gallchobhair . The West is trying to make itself impervious to nuclear strikes by a space-based missile defence system, even precluding retaliation by a foreign power in case the West were to strike first. And French firms are deeply involved even though France is not even part of NATO’s nuclear planning group. The brave young communists and the indefatigable members of the PCF’s executive committee try to inform the French public as well as the potential targets of the belligerent weapon systems, almost losing honour and life as a result. Clearly, the fascist terrorists are more closely intertwined with the ruling elites than these want to admit. This is the concluding part of Anti-Communism 2.1. However, the story of the refoundation of International Communism in spite of its fascist detractors continues in World Revolution 2.1. Part 1. One Step Closer. Jean in Moscow. Peter Gar comments: “A superb read. Life under a future democratic Communism would be far superior to the rotten sanitary capitalism we have now.”