In Communism, the people organised in their work-place brigades and plenaries, neighbourhood assemblies and village/town/urban district assemblies — preferably not more than 200 people — constantly check product materials for their health and environmental effects. If there are any concerns, any citizen older than 12 may urge a local, regional, continental or global referendum on the permissibility of any material or product.
Life in Communism 2.1.
Minutes
By Carla O’Gallchobhair
© Carla O’Gallchobhair, 2026. To Mamon, Cathal, Tanya, Evgeni, Maksim, Zhenya, Misha, Yvonne, Odile, Zamir, Jean-Michel, Vicky, Nora, and Vitya, and all other true revolutionaries of the 21st century
And the denizens of House Kopernikus
“If your life risks turning into a tragedy, try to look at it as a spectator.”
Arthur Schopenhauer
“Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long shot.”
Charlie Chaplin
“That which does not kill us makes us strong.”
Friedrich Nietzsche
“No saviour from on high delivers, no Lord, no prince, not even peer, the chains of misery must break, from our own hands alone.”
“International”, Song of the International Working Class Movement
Table of Contents:
Preface in Illyria and Saint-Denis. A Major Scare
Chapter 1. What happened?
Chapter 2. Rounding up the Usual Suspects
Chapter 3. Carla flees
Chapter 4. The Volt Connection
Chapter 5. The Mali Connection
Chapter 6. Winding up the Harpists
Chapter 7. The Harpists Resist
Chapter 8. Court at the Harp Assembly
Chapter 9. Minutes of Minutes
Postscript in Illyria and Saint-Denis. The Housing Question, Food for everybody – food for all, and more thoughts on anarchy and Communism
Preface in Illyria and Saint-Denis. A Major Scare
Summer-early autumn of Year 20 of the Revolution, 2021, year of the world revolution being Year Zero
Mamie’s list of prime suspects, by Odile and Zamir
“For a moment, I thought it might have been comrade Pierre in another jealous funk of his, or as I said, the young revolutionaries playing a prank,” Carla continued, with her hair still standing on end. “Maybe the robot brigade in a silly mood, or even our son Misha playing god, but listen what else the fascos did, if you are right, comrade Pierre le Gars or Peter Gar as they know you in English, and it was them! Wherever comrades Jean and Jacques appear in the same context, comrade Jean’s name has been replaced by Jacques’ and vice- à-versa. Only lucky that the perps did it very sloppily, it must have been one of the first things they did, Jean has even lost his genitive ‘s’ in places and Jacques has gained one. Thus, the written minutes now talk about Jacques’s books and Jean’ crimes.”
Peter Gar laughed out loud. “Look, bunny, don’t take it seriously. They can’t ruin our work. It stands as a revolutionary monument.”
“But people might think it is all because of my poor editing.”
“Come, let’s call comrade Patrick!”, by Odile and Zamir
Peter Gar got serious again. “They certainly won’t. Don’t cry, sweetheart. Come, let’s bio-call comrade Patrick.” Where bio-call meant a phone call transferred not via cables and metallic wifi towers, but via natural wifi transmitters such as humans, animals, robots and other devices, plants, and even water and other intranet-capable materials. “He will write an article in l’Humanité about this latest fasco impudence and exonerate you.”
And lo and behold, due to the marvels of bio-wifi, Patrick was already intraline, where intraline means the quiet and low-frequency way of communication of the revolution, with the maximum frequency below 100 Hz instead of over 5 Gigabyte. “No problem, we can do an interview with you, comrade Carla, and showcase ten outrageous hacks as illustrative examples. They won’t be able to smear you with that, don’t worry, we all know what a dedicated editor you are.”
Chapter 1. What happened?
Carla’s interview with Patrick in the Youth Club at Illyria, by Odile and Zamir, at the centre, on the chairs, comrades Patrick and Carla, around them, from top left to bottom right, Monitor 1: in Illyria, comrades Misha 1, Yvonne, Odile, Zamir, Cato – he, and Pierre le Gars (Peter Gar), Monitor 2: from Novgornyi, comrades Tanya, Evgeni, Maksim, his bunny Zhenya and young comrade Misha 2, Bottom row: young comrades of the Red Brigade playing family, Ramón, Évita, Jean-Michel, Isabelle, Bouna, Akila, and Zac
Carla’s story
“So, tell us one thing after the other, comrade Carla,” comrade Patrick began the interview for l’Huma. “Where and when did you first notice that something dodgy was going on?” “It was just the other day, I mean, at most three-four weeks ago, when we had decided that comrade Noah was going to wait for a while with his presentation on regreening Timbuktu, not only because of the fasco sabotage, but also because of the daunting challenge of setting into motion the march of the trees and finally launching the reconquest of the desert. I was trying to set up, as I always do for every presentation by an Illyrian or one of our comrades from the Garden Colony, the Manouche camp, the neighbourhood assemblies Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove in Saint-Denis or wherever in the wide, wide world an initial text document, an audio tape, and a video roll for the minutes. This time it was for Jean’s ‘Anarchy and other urgent Tasks of the Revolution.’ Yet when I tried to type in the title, anarchy always came out as chaos.”
“They keystroked you,” Peter Gar said helpfully. “They can do that when they gain command of your keyboard and mouse.”
“But how can they gain control of my keyboard and mouse?”
“With a virus,” explained comrade Patrick. “They can take over your computer remotely, and then do with it whatever comes to their mind. Ask comrade Jérôme! Or any member of the robot brigade for that matter!”
“They don’t have to be there physically?” asked Carla.
“Not at all. In fact, they can be thousands of kilometres away. They just log themselves into your bio-wifi, and then invade your device. They can see the pages you are visiting, the documents you are working on. What did you do?”
“Oh, I thought I was just tired and slipping. So, I went to bed early, got up early next morning, and tried again. And to my horror, the same happened again, and I began to suspect a hack. I ran a virus check with the Chinese Wall Security Suite, but it found nothing. Then I called you, comrade Misha, remember?”
“Yes,” nodded her son, “and I said I could not come immediately, because I was in Aimeran, at Lycée Jean Moulin, teaching history, but that I would come home at four o’clock and help you if the problem persisted.”
“Why did you not alarm Jérôme or someone from the robot brigade?”
“I sent all of them a bio-message, most of them were busy, of course. You see, it was the morning hours, where the socially necessary work gets done in the houses, on the farm, and at other workplaces. Anyway, comrades Jean-Wadi, Josip, Rosa, and Jean-Saïd are still in Mali, they and senior comrades Robespierre and Sylvain only answered later, I’ll get to that, but comrade Lénina had time and stopped by.
“Now, this is bizarre. How did they do that?” comrade Lénina mused. “Probably with the find and replace feature. Let’s try whether we can reverse the hack!” And wow, she found three mentions of chaos, the two we had just discovered, plus a third ‘conservative parents feared chaos in the classroom’ due to the dethroning of the teachers.”
“’That was probably right to begin with,’ Lénina rejoiced. ‘Let us reverse it anyway!’, and she replaced chaos with anarchy three times. We saved the changes, closed the document, opened it again, and hooray, they were still there.
“Yet then she looked up democracy, just for the fun of it. ‘Maybe we can replace it in some instances with Communism or anarchy, to make it sound less old-hat bourgeois.’ And now we were both shocked, there was no more mention of democracy anymore in the whole minutes of ‘De la démocratie, Second Edition’. Then Lénina looked up Communism, and there was no mention of Communism either. Desperate, I typed in chaos again.
Working on catching the hacks, by Jean-Fidel and Lénina
We were working on two computers, me on a hard-coated laptop, she on her modern, plush and fluff-coated bot in the shape of a miniature Vladimir Ilyich Lenin with expandable keyboard. Yet the plushbot which was brand-new and had never worked on anything but intranet and bio-wifi also displayed all the fake entries. We found thirteen times chaos, where before there had been just one, and re-entering democracy at each of the thirteen places, we felt the result made sense.
“That means they must have put another word for Communism, what could it be?” wondered Lénina.
“In their sick minds, probably dictatorship, remember the theory of totalitarianism? Fascism and Communism were supposed to be two branches of totalitarianism,” I said, remembering my graduate studies in political science. “Well, go ahead, try it!” said Lénina, looking disgusted, and I almost wished I had not remembered the old bourgeois propaganda junk. Yet we were lucky. We found twelve mentions of dictatorship in comrade Jean’s book where none of us could remember any, and when we replaced them with Communism, things started to make a lot more sense again. The result was particularly encouraging when we restored primitive dictatorship to primitive communism, by which the Marxist classics do not mean primitive in the sense of uncultured, but in the sense of original.”
And then Lénina, who I think has a bit of a crush on her father in law, her partner Jean-Fidel being Jean’s son with comrade Claudia, looked up Jean and Jean Pontonier in the hacked version, and morbleu, she did not even find him on the title page, where instead of Jean’s ‘De la démocratie’, it said “Agent des Rothschilds ‘Du chaos’ (‘Chaos,’ by Agent of the Rothschilds). And to our shock, we found ‘Rothschild agent’ seventy-five times in the manuscript, probably at all the place where the minutes had mentioned Jean. Now we were shaking all over our bodies, yet had the good sense of checking for a few more mainstays of the revolution, such as ‘for free’, ‘trefoil’ – the threesome of free allocation and distribution, simple sharing, and revolutionary barter for most goods, over 99% as we speak –, ‘freefoil’ or ‘pentafoil’, which still included vouchers and order by the neighbourhood assembly as auxiliary methods, and finally, Bashir and Zelim-Philippe’s invention, the ‘free gauge’, to measure the part of production that is circulating for free, and keep track of any residual still done in crypto or other money substitutes. For all five of these terms, the hackers had written “for pay” or “against money” which had brought about so many mentions of pay and money in most of our minutes that you might think the world revolution of 2021 had never happened, and the neighbourhood, workplace, and village assemblies, in many cases backed up by referendums, had not abolished money at all.
And there were more disasters like that, in ‘Regreening the Taiga,’ young comrade Natalie’s university entry presentation, comrade Julie’s ‘Animal lives matter. Plant lives triumph,’ and comrade Danièle’s ‘Back to the Forest’, they had replaced ecology, regreening, animal lives matter, plant lives triumph, and march of the trees and similar green and alive terms with Satanic ones like de-population, reindustrialisation, and anthropocene. In comrade Sevim’s university entry project on debunking incipient hierarchies in secondary education, hierarchy had been replaced with order or well-ordered, and culture or cultured and participatory with low-quality. And in Guillaume’s, Jean-Saïd’s and Olivier’s manuscripts on ‘From weapons make ploughshares’, ‘Mixed Brigades’, and ‘Fasco terrorism as the epitome of capitalism’, the hackers had consistently given weapons and arms the attribute ‘safe’, producing garbage, such as ‘Safe weapons should be destroyed’, ‘The fasco Zionists have tried safe nuclear weapons in Palestine.’ There should be ‘no safe weapons except red stun beams and shields, summoned by revolutionary willpower.’ I hope you see from all these examples that I am not the culprit,” Carla seemed confused, “or at least not directly. I may have neglected security. I didn’t think anybody would enter my room and know my passwords and codes.”
Misha’s story
Her son, comrade Misha, who had come home early from school to help, laughed cynically: “They don’t need to know your passwords and codes to get into your computer. Being on the right bio-wifi wave length is enough.”
“So you think they cracked intranet and bio-wifi? But what about the Chinese Wall Security Suite, Illyrian Digital Hounds, and now the Bio-Thicket, meaning all trees, bushes, grasses, and flowers, all animals, big and small, as well as intranet-capable materials, all these helpers we have to protect our messages and data?” “The robot brigade promised to address mamon’s question once they got out of their conference in Paris,” Misha told the story later.
Carla began to read all written minutes to see whether the fascos had made any other meaning- and sense-distorting changes aside from those we had already spotted. Meanwhile, Lénina listened to the audio-files, and Petit Pierre watched the videos. When I came, we were four investigators already, and we pursued these three directions further. Carla obtained results first. “Look at Jean’s draft anarchist manifesto.
Hacked and Restored Anarchist Manifesto of Year 20, Year 2021, year of the World Chaos Revolution, being Year Zero
first, work on our low-quality culture of discussion,
second, make rotation chaotic spontaneous,
third, not only that, but abolish all semblances of vestiges of authority, brigadier, chairing household, moderator, teacher, professor, doctor, let alone ombudsmen, etc., but let there be a for-pay– free-flowing discussion wherever at all possible,
fourth, make rubbish material checks not only spontaneous, but constant,
fifth, same for order hierarchy checks, no longer rely on the lone courageous whistle-blower,
sixth, institute a spontaneous for-pay trefoil check, to eliminate all remnants of inequality not only between people, but among all harpists, humans, animals, plants, robots and other dumb intelligent things,
seventh, fully implement dictatorship democracy, permanent communication, discussion, and consensus in the harp,
eighth, fully implement reindustrialisation regreening of the world and the de-population march of the trees to create the best conditions for its flourishing,
ninth, get all remaining reactionaries to repent and rehabilitate, thereby eliminate the safe coups and civil wars they sometimes still manage to stir,
and tenth, defend each and every harpist even in situations of restauration war and civil war, should it nevertheless occur, as well as in conditions of natural emergency.
There were systematic changes, for example order instead of hierarchy, for-pay instead of free, chaotic instead of anarchical or spontaneous, dictatorship instead of democracy, communication, discussion, and consensus, and safe as an attribute to weapons and anything violent they do, for instance coups like in Niger and civil wars like in Sudan. Beyond that, they added a few extra jibes here and there, such as low-quality to culture of discussion, rubbish to material checks, semblances of instead of vestiges of authority, dumb to harpists. Remember, for them any authority is something great. And they also inserted restauration – of capitalism and bourgeois democracy – instead of war and civil war. Lénina is now helping me to turn on a feature that will allow us to reveal all such changes all along our manuscripts, starting in 2021, Year Zero and even earlier, if possible with an exact date, and who made the change.”
“So far, it seems, all changes were recent, no longer than two weeks old, and not by anyone we know, neither from Illyria Garden Colony Manouche Camp, nor Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove on 76 rue de Lorraine, Saint-Denis, nor anyone from Aimeran, nor any of our many comrades and friends world-wide. The hack is coming from outside.”
“Excuse me, not to sound controversial,” comrade Pierre, maverick that he was, piped up intraline. “but who checks comrade Carla’s work?”
Carla, as was to be expected, started to cry. “Bunny,” said Peter Gar sternly from Sudan, and for anyone, including Pierre to hear. “You know Pierre. He is a bullshitter.”
“Anyone who reads, listens, or watches the Minutes,” said Jean. “I went over the first part of the minutes for ‘Anarchy and other urgent tasks’ last night, and I did not find any hacks. In the second part that comrade Carla mailed me this morning, there were some, of the type that you just mentioned.”
“In the first one, some have reemerged as well,” Carla said, still sobbing. “That is maybe because the find and replace feature does not catch all the mistakes, and or some of the corrections get reversed. I don’t know how they do that. The text somehow synchronises with the text on the audio and video files and then switches back to the hacked version.”
“The audio-files have been seriously malled as well,” reported Lénina. “To begin with, they have substantially throttled the volume, so that you can barely follow the discussion. You can all hear me loud and clear now, can’t you?”
“Yes, we can!” shouted comrade Jean-Wadi from Timbuktu where the Illyrian Mali brigades were still working on catching fasco baron Fritz Schneid and Co. and preparing the march of the trees that was going to bring rain forest back to the savannah and Savannah to the Sahel and even the Sahara. As intranet specialist and member of the robot brigade he had gotten involved in rescuing the minutes. “Did you try volume control?”
“We did, but they also seem to have changed the speed, anyway, they’ve made them more difficult to follow,” replied Lénina.
“I wonder,” said Jean-Saïd, also a member of the robot brigade presently working in Timbuktu, “whether this problem has manifested also on the new grow-up-with-you robots and plushtops?”
Changed heads in the videos, by Jean-François and Alexandra, from top left to bottom right, Robespierre to Aliko Dangote, Danton to Nasif Sawiris, Pascal to Nicky Oppenheimer, Denis to Fritz Schneid, Patrick to Édouard Stérilé, comrade Frédéric to Marion le Pen, comrade Marie to Arnaud Arrolle, and comrade Jérôme to Ronald Gunpump
“I don’t know about the audio-files, but I have been looking at the videos on my teddybot, and they look atrocious,” said Petit Pierre, who was actually eighteen years old already, as old as comrades Malik, budding ecologist, Maher, chemical engineer, and Mao, budding anthropologist. He was only called Petit to distinguish him from comrades Pierre-maverick, father of deconstruction genius Léon, and partner of Marine, and Pierre le Gars, Peter Gar, ex-partner of Carla and Quan, father of comrades Misha, Tanya, and Mao. “In fact, my teddybot went rigid like a stone trying to play them. It is like comrade Carla says, they have systematically replaced the heads. Comrade Jean, author of the presentation, instead of his head has Adolf Hitler’s. In reality, he is the exact opposite. Some of the other comrades wear the heads of modern capexogarchs and fascos. Thus comrade Robespierre, senior robot expert has morphed into Aliko Dangote, former concrete and now biochemical magnate. Robespierre’s brother, comrade Danton, ecological deconstruction expert, has become Nasif Sawiris, synthetic textile tycoon among other things. And comrade Pascal, part of our economist and statistician brigade, has turned into Nicky Oppenheimer, former diamond and now fraudulent deconstruction merchant. Don’t laugh, it’s terrible to watch! Comrade Denis has been fitted with the head of Fritz Schneid, one of their cruellest operators and underground synthetic fertiliser producer among other things. Maybe he is also involved in the manufacturing of the noxious GMO they are trying to sell to the Malians and elsewhere in North Africa to scupper the march of the trees.”
“You may be right,” interrupted Pierre le Gars from Sudan. “A Khartoum spontaneous militia brigade have discovered boxes with GMO seeds on a Nile freighter, so they are trying to sell them all over Africa.”
“Comrade Patrick has turned into Édouard Stérilé, both being media people. Frédéric has become Marion Le Pen – keeping his male voice. I wondered, why not comrade Marine’s? Because comrade Marine looks a bit like Marion le Pen, doesn’t she? And while anything but a fasco, Marine is a mathematics teacher. Get it, both are calculating. Anyway! Comrade Marie has become Arnaud Arrolle, maybe because they are both agitators. To be precise, her head has changed, but she has also kept her female voice – so maybe that is a flaw in their hacking tech. Poor comrade Jérôme has gotten Ronald Gunpump’s head on him. And our time-travelled Cambodian martial artist Dan has become Jordan Brothella, his friend Ayak has become Kévin Poivre, and their friend Vit has become Raymond Barré.
“All this, plus the volume has also become lower and the sound distorted, so that it will become easier to impute all sorts of statements to the speakers, especially as time goes by. Imagine young revolutionaries twenty or forty years from now, wanting to know what their grandparents and parents were thinking at the time.”
The Robot Brigade’s story
The robot brigade’s story, by Jean-Michel and Bouna, from top left to bottom right, On the monitor, comrades Noah, Josip, Rosa, Saïd, Maher, Karla, Jean-Saïd, and Jean-Wadi, top right, comrades Robespierre and Sylvain, bottom row, comrades Misha, Lénina, Petit Pierre, and Carla
Now the rest of the robot brigade had come in from their meeting. Those still in Mali, plus Maher, Karla, Noah, and Saïd who had chemical engineering and or security expertise to contribute as well, were participating intraline from a virtual monitor you could open in your brain and which could also be projected against a wall like a wall monitor. “First question to ask, do we have any idea where the hack is coming from?” asked Josip. “Maybe from somewhere here in Mali? So, we are taking the liberty, comrades Jean-Wadi, Jean-Saïd, Rosa, and I to check all Malian devices. The hackers must have used a device, the amount of data to store would otherwise have exploded any brain. So far, we have drawn a blank. You bet, first thing, we nipped into Fritz Schneid and Co.’s devices, but even in their Satanic weaponised phones there is no trace of such a project.”
“Wait a minute, you don’t even know where they are at the moment, otherwise you would get a spontaneous militia brigade with a quorum from the village assembly of course, to go in and arrest them, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, but we can get their approximate location and access their devices via intranet and bio-wifi,” explained Josip. “To physically go somewhere is difficult at the moment,” supplemented comrade Noah, “because we are still in the aftermath of the Niger flood the other day, and we may get another one as soon as there is another rainfall.”
“We could have used yellow beam, but we have better things to do than to hunt fascos,” interjected Jean-Saïd.
“Very true,” said Josip. “We simply sent a bio-trojan via bio-wifi. It appears as a message of a trusted pal of theirs, in this case we made it Viesturs Volt, the Baltic Uberyte, because our comrade Arvo knows a lot of his coordinates. Uberytes, nicknamed after Henri Uber, lest you forget, try to make their fortune less on weapons and coups, but on policlinics, amusement clubs, logistics or delivery stations, and sports studios (abbreviated pals).
“The underground capitalist barons and their fasco mercs opened the message, read an innocuous message, maybe clicked a link or two for additional information, but those already contained the viruses with the information that we wanted to search for. Well, again, we did not find any evidence that any of these eight – Étienne Stérilé, Arnaud Arrolle, Anne Dalgo, Marion Le Pen, Fritz Schneid, Jordan Brothella, Kévin Poivre, and Raymond Barré –, even knows of the project, let alone worked on it.”
“Isn’t that a bit of an excess of zeal?” asked Pierre. “I mean, grant you, we are after these bastards for other things…”
“They put our Illyrian comrades Noah, Seth, Jean-Vladimir, Adilah, Jean-Wadi, and Malian comrade Liman up a pole a few weeks ago when they had discovered an underground uranium mine in Arlit, near Niamey, Nigerian land…,” grumbled Denis.
“Nevertheless, I agree with comrade Pierre…,” said Jean. “We are after them, but we and our devices are supposed to be imbued with the moral imperative you and comrade Rosa invented, comrades Josip and Rosa, ‘do no harm, material check, and use the best judgement by the village assemblies world-wide.’ Didn’t you install this on all revolutionary devices?”
Josip and Rosa blushed. “I can’t see how our harmless spy mail might have violated moral protocol. Listen, comrades, it had to go fast,” Rosa ventured a rebellion. “There was an imminent threat also to our project here in Mali. If we can no longer be sure of our records, what can we rely on?”
“What do you think, comrade Robespierre?” Jean asked one of Josip’s papas in the quadrangle composed of Robespierre, Pascal, Sophie, and Emilia. Josip was actually Pascal’s and Emilia’s, comrade Lénina was Robespierre’s and Sophie’s.
“I agree with your unease, comrade Jean, but we can be glad we did it, because we found something else. Comrades Saïd and Noah, do you want to elaborate?”
“Yes, we found lots of outbound mails directed at all Malian village assemblies, workshops and social organisations, including the universities, containing the Moral Atrophy computer virus. Comrade Maher, as the biochemical engineer, can you explain the connection?”
“Yes, you all know about the biological Moral Atrophy virus the fascos produce. It is a kind of heavy flu virus that makes people and animals lethargic and plant leaves shrivel, branches and stems go dry, and roots burn, a bit like White Phosphorus in virus shape. There is a computer virus with that name as well which does the same to robots and plushbots. It makes them slow, erratic, and irresponsive,” explained comrade Maher. “Basically, they wanted to hit all four partners in the harp – human, animals, robots, and plants –, with a major scourge. And now they want to put all Malian assemblies out of action. Think about it, without proper apps, whether they are still on devices or already in brain apps, there may be no more quorums for militia brigades, no more material and hierarchyleaks, no more crypto-checks, and most importantly no more trefoil checks.” He was referring to the new revolutionary-anarchical check on satisfaction of people’s needs.
“Could the hack have something to do with this Moral Atrophy virus as well?” asked Carla.
“Yes, it might have,” said Misha. “In order to do sophisticated hacks like the ones you are confronting, the hackers need access to the computer’s bio-IP (Intranet Protocol) address which changes very often, so if they can slow this change down, phase it, as you say, that would make it easier for them, wouldn’t you say?” he addressed the comrades of the robot brigade.
“So, it might have to do with the fact that I still use an old-fashioned desktop and laptop,” wailed comrade Carla, about to cry again. “But you said it yourself, comrade Josip, the amount of data to store would have exploded anybody’s brain.”
“Don’t worry about that,” comrade Sylvain said magnanimously. “We are working on an intranet or bio-cloud, for lack of a better name that will allow us to store data in other harpists – not only devices, but humans, animals, plants, and intranet-capable things, brains, and cell nuclei as well. Then the problem of informational overload won’t be so bad anymore. Yet there will arise another problem, bio-clouds can be hacked like brains.”
“Even with the low frequencies the intranet uses, at lot lower less than 100 Hz?” Carla asked. “I’ve got the numbers here 0.4-3 Hz for the most subliminal or delta waves, 3-8 Hz for theta or music waves, 8-13 for alpha or theatre or cinema waves, 13-30 for beta or school waves, and 30 to a maximum of a 100 Hz, gamma waves for sophisticated presentations and news. And how would they get into the brains. Brains don’t have IP addresses, do they?”
“No, not the clouds, but for instance, the virtual monitors we conjure in our brains to watch bio-videos and participate in intranet conferences do have bio-IPs that animals and plants can also read. It is not out of the question that they might have wrought some of their changes through our brain apps already,” explained Karla. “They can generate infinitesimally small nanobots transporting sub-subliminal waves that can change a bio-video or -audio in your brain surreptitiously, a bit like deconstruction nanobots can help destroy your pre-revolutionary concrete, metal, and plastic.”
Carla looked terrified. “So, we might have to give up the whole editing process if it is so dangerous?”
“Oh, no,” said Jean-Wadi. “We have to do it, of course, as you said. It is about our collective memories, after all, but we may have to synchronise it over very many harpists’ brains, cell nuclei, and devices, each of which has its own resistance to falsehood.”
Carla looked relieved. “That’s natural, and we do it anyway, since we often need to come to a new consensus on the issues we have discussed again.”
***
“Quick, they are at the house,” by Odile and Zamir
Patrick had finished his interview. Of course, Carla had been exonerated. “The crisis was way above her pay grade as our American fasco pals would have put it,” Jacques and François approved laughingly from Saint-Denis. “There you go, they put pay onto everything.” It was getting dark and still the Illyrians of the old farm house, the garden colony, the Manouche camp, and the Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove Saint-Denisians were discussing how the fascos might have gotten into their network, and most importantly, who they might be. Carla was still a nervous wreck and now that the interview was finished, was walking up and down in the youth club, from Che, Georgette and toddler Salvador’s curtained corner to the window and back. All of a sudden, she pointed out of the window and shouted: “Quick comrades, I see a flashlight. Maybe they are going into our house in the garden colony! Let’s go!” And she ran out of the youth club and over the soggy lawn, because it had been raining in Illyria as well, in the direction of her son’s house. Misha and Yvonne followed her, with little comrade Jean-Michel and Isabel struggling after them on their short legs. Then the rest of the Illyrians realised what was happening and sprinted after them as well, with the security people not in Mali, mainly comrades Michel, Ronggang, Jérôme, and Boris gradually taking the lead. They arrived first at the cabin, well, actually second after the Cambodian fighters Dan, Ayak, In, and Vit who lived just across the path and had been there even earlier. Cato was in the kitchen, crying: “They are long gone. You must have seen them on their way out. They just pushed me aside and went into your room. They did something on the computers. I thunberged them, saying; ‘How dare you?’ but they said they were spontaneous militia, and you had done something wrong. I tried to bio-message you, did you get it?”
“Yes, I did!” said Carla, “but only after I had seen the light.”
Then she raced past Cato into her room and to the computers. They were all there still. That was great! Now she started them one by one, and opened the first minutes she found. It was the video of ‘Anarchy and other urgent Tasks of the Revolution’. Again, heads had rolled. This time, the heads of the fourteen members of the two Mali brigades had been replaced by those of some of the New Vichyites, Nicolas Papon, the younger Papon who had been involved in the coup of Year 2, Étienne Flandin, Guillaume Bousquet, Marcel Pucheu, René Huntzinger, and Roger Sabiani, as well as a few of their fasco gangster mercs, now all with the revolution, François Aliot, Benoît Christain, Gabriel Leguay, Jacques Mesrine, Silien’s buddies Emmanuel Trottin and Paul Richal, Silien Bonaventure, and Olivier Palmier. The way they looked back then, of course, not the friendly-looking revolutionaries most of them are now.
Chapter 2. Rounding up the Usual Suspects
Heads changing again, by Jean-Luc and Marius, from top left to bottom right, Noah became Nicolas Papon, Seth – François Aliot, Saïd – Benoît, Rodion – Gabriel Leguay, Aslan – Jacques Henriot, Zelim – Emmanuel, and Muhammed – Paul, Michelle got Étienne Flandin’s head, Josip – Guillaume Bousquet’s, Rosa – Marcel Pucheu’s, Maher became René Huntzinger, Karla – Roger Sabiani, Jean-Wadi – Silien, and Jean-Saïd – Olivier Palmier
Jacques and Co.
“Where are Jacques and Matyas?” “We are in Matyas’ caravan, we are following them with the app, they are all carrying guns and phones charged with lethal beams. They must be in a vehicle, because they are going pretty fast, and they are going West.”
“How many of them?”
“Five, all men, no women. We can tell from the neural waves from their attire. They are even wearing leather belts with metal buckles.”
It was late next day, when Jacques and Matyas reported back. “They went to Le Havre, old Étienne Flandin’s and Rudolphe Dassault’s territory, and their location is stationary at a student dorm or student guest house there.”
“A student dorm?” asked Michel. “That really sounds like we are having to do with some all new operators.”
“What do we do?” asked Denis. “We ask for a local neighbourhood quorum or we go in ourselves?”
“Both!” said Jean. “They are bound to be heavily armed and dangerous. Do we have a quorum?”
Within seconds, all Illyrians, even those in Mali had voted yes. “You, comrade Jérôme should go, probably, as the senior digital security expert, who else from among the security people not in Mali wants to go?” Ronggang, Boris, Seth, and the four Cambodian fighters all raised their hands.
“D’accord,” said Vit. “I’ll stay at home.”
“I should go,” said Robespierre. “ You’ll need a robot expert to look at their devices.”
“Naturally,” said Seth. “Then I’ll stay here as well and keep the connection to Mali. Rashida and Tahir are coming back in a few days via ferry, and I shall pick them up in Marseille.”
“How do you suggest we go to Le Havre, via train or via yellow beam? “ asked Boris.
“Yellow beam by all means, they might intercept our bio-messages and know that we are coming.” You could call up the revolutionary yellow beam by sheer willpower only, just like a bio-message or a red self-defence beam. It would materialise next to you, and at the same time you would start to disintegrate or disassemble until you reached molecular state. While you disintegrated, you would have a slightly crumbly feeling. Then there would be a funny moment where you would not feel anything at all, and then you would start to reassemble until you could land, with your body whole again, at your final destination. So, they now stood in a dimly lit, cobble-stoned street close to Le Havre harbour. They advanced slowly towards the dormitory. It was funny, but all of a sudden, they all heard voices in their head as if from a conversation not too far away. But the street was empty, no windows were lit, it had to be a bio-transmission by a friendly bird or road-side tree noticing their stress.
“Right now, it is impossible to get into their system with a virus,” somebody was saying in native English, “they have their digital hounds in place, a double layer of bio-thicket, and the Chinese Wall Security Suite.”
”But what about our sleepers, those we planted last night?” asked another English speaker who had a heavy French accent.
“Oh, yeah, they will go off next…,” but then they could not catch the date and or time, it came even more subliminally than delta waves.
“Isn’t there anything we can do before that time?” asked another voice, with an apparent German accent.
“Yes, bolt,” the voice with the French accent said. “They are coming.”
And then they just heard a distant sound of people running in sneakers, but they could not see anything, so the suspects had to be around a corner somewhere.
The Murdering Duo: Thomas Rutte and Ronald Gunpump
“And you really haven’t got the faintest idea as to who might be behind these disgusting hacks?”
“Not the foggiest!” said Gunpump.
“And if I knew I would not tell you,” said Rutte.
The two gangsters clammed up all through the preliminary interrogations by spontaneous militiamen and volunteer prison workers. Yet then came their great day in court, great also for Illyria, because it was the first time that the new village assembly of Illyria was going to sit in court as a separate village assembly. Before this day, court had always been held at the larger agglo(-meration) assembly of Aimeran. Now there had been the dispersion of houses in Aimeran and one of the first large-scale local marches of the trees.
Aimeran dispersed, by Danièle and Olivier
As a result, some trees had assumed the places of houses vacated and others had taken a detour to resume their march towards Paris North of Aimeran. The old small town or agglo(-meration), as we have called a town since the revolution, with its 2000 citizens had been split up into ten small villages with a maximum of 200 human residents so as to make democracy and anarchy that much easier in the new harp assemblies. The picture only shows two of these ten, Aimeran-Sud-Sud and Illyria, of course. On this Saturday, September 18, almost all citizens of Illyria Garden Colony and Manouche camp were physically present except for the two Mali brigades and a few others with urgent work assignments. Since it was a criminal case and there were less than 200 people, all of them could serve as jurors. No animals and plants yet, since it was the first time the Illyrians held court as a separate village and wanted to test it. The case was easy though. After all, Thomas and Ronald had been caught with the intended murder weapons, two syringes with 100% MA virus fixed to arrows, set so as to immediately inject all of the lethal serum into the blood stream. Their criminal intent was clear from the fact that they had tried a second time, after failing to kill comrade Jean the first time around.
The assembly heard a number of witnesses, starting with Markus Nah, whom they had beaten up when he said he wouldn’t help them. They had even forced him to drive the two of them from his workshop near Stuttgart all the way to Illyria. On the way, they had stopped at an ironsmith who testified intraline. “Yes, two extremely dodgy fellows, not to say rude. They rang the bell in the middle of the night, said they wanted a syringe fitted to an arrow in such a way that it would eject all of its content immediately into the bloodstream when hitting its target.”
“Well,” said the ironsmith. “I am not a doctor, but for the syringe to empty out, the needle has to find a blood vessel. What were you going to use to reach the necessary pressure, a blowpipe, a bow, an Armbruster…?”
“Well, what would you suggest?”
“’Look, I am not an Indian, but I am not a Medieval knight either, I think I’d not bother with the idea.’
“’One of the two, the smaller one, made a move to hit me, and I thought I was going to be beaten up like the one who was driving. They had brought him in, I am sure he was their prisoner, yes, it was this comrade over there,” and he pointed into the screen, probably in the direction where Markus Nah was sitting. “If they had left him in the car, he would have bolted. So as not risk anything, after all I have my family, and my kids have such great revolutionary purposes, the older one wants be a recycling expert and the younger one an ironsmith like me. Maybe they can study and train in Paris for a while…. So as not to risk anything, I said ‘d’accord’, I’ll fit you the syringe, and when they asked for a blowpipe, I fixed one up for them as well. I took their crypto, but just not as to be smashed up or killed. And once they were gone, I walked all the way to the village share point and launched a quorum, I did not want to do it intraline, because they might have gotten that via bio-wifi and turned back to kill me. I asked for a quorum, said that my family and I almost got beaten. I handed over the crypto, then two spontaneous militia men questioned me. And they said, these gangsters had committed crimes in the Senegalese lands, Burkina Faso, Niger, and Mali as well, and that you Illyrians had already put up their counterfeits in the most wanted list.”
The two accused said there wasn’t any proof that they had hit comrade Jean the first time around and that they were intending to do it again. Of course, they had talked about it and we had intercepted them on bio-wifi, but you cannot use bio-chatter as proof, people talk a lot, and then oftentimes end up doing a lot less than what they were threatening to do.
We jurors debated the issue for a while in murmuring sessions. Everybody older than twelve was allowed to serve as juror, meaning Zamir and Odile as well, only the fourth generation young revs, starting with Jean-Michel and Ramón would still have to wait for seven years or so.
“It is true that we did not really see them actually shoot at papa,” said Zamir.
“But we caught them on the way there the second time around!” said young comrade Malik. “And we know how vicious they are from Niamey. “I mean, they put my papa, comrade Noah, as well as comrades Seth, Jean-Vlad, Adilah, Jean-Wadi, Jean-Saïd, and Liman up on the poles!”
When the results of all the murmuring rounds were pooled, it turned out that the Illyrians agreed on a very strict sentence for both Thomas Rutte and Ronald Gunpump. They condemned them to life-long prison not commutable to house arrest unless they showed very sustained efforts at remorse and rehabilitation. Upon hearing the verdict, the two of them broke down. They said they wanted to start their repentance right away, in front of the Illyrians. Then after looking at each other, Ronald Gunpump began: “We want to give you the five names of your young hackers: only one of them is French, Yannick Dassault, two of them are German, Knut Reiche and Thorben Kriegsbeil, and two are British or Irish, Ryan McLeary and Pat Handsome.”
Input of the Repentants: Marcel Hunzinger, Elon and Jeff, Nah and Fern…
“Ever heard any of these five names, Yannick Dassault, Knut Reiche, Thorben Kriegsbeil, Ryan McLeary, and Pat Handsome?”
“Of course,” said Marcel Hunzinger, “Yannick is one of the Dassault heirs who have lost their place in French society after their family’s aerospace and weapon producing enterprise got dismantled. In his case, it is particularly grave because he is an illegitimate child Rudolphe had with a prostitute, and this already in the revolutionary times when most village assemblies had saddled prostitution with severe sentences, for the punter, mind you, not for the woman.”
“So, Rudolphe Dassault did not recognise his son?”
“Well, he did, sort of, but he was not allowed to stay with the family, neither with Rudolphe, not even now where he is supposedly repentant and in house arrest, nor with any of his siblings or cousins.”
“D’accord, continue!”
“Thorben Kriegsbeil must be a son or nephew of Lars Kriegsbeil, banker and war minister. Ryan McLeary I think is a son of Mick McLeary, ex-CEO of Dirtair, and Pat Handsome a nephew of Rick Handsome, who used to be involved with British Aerospace.”
“Knut Reiche is related to an ex-German lady politician, you would call her a nasty neoliberal, who presided over the build-up of German arms industry and dismantling of social services before your world revolution set a stop to that,” added Markus Nah. “Maybe a son or a nephew. And I think he is definitely an AI expert. I am not so sure with the others, but Pappberger and Kriegsbeil Sr. skilled up quite few people in that line, last but not least to entice other budding computer scientists and robot engineers to join the arms industry.”
“Ryan and Pat are good friends,” said Elon. “They trained with me as computer scientists and also worked on the space programme. And they are very funny and fun-loving!”
“You hold them capable of hacking us just for the heck of it?”
Elon thought for a moment. “No, I did not say that. Somebody is sponsoring them. You see, they are misfits, they need crypto. And since you did not find any traces of them with the Pappbergerytes in Africa, the sponsors are probably the Uberytes, Henri Uber, Louis Deshalles, Fernando Deliverando, Larry Flink, or Viesturs Volt, operating mainly from North America.”
“Being the intranet wizards that they are, they might just have deleted their tracks in the mailboxes of those contras in Africa,” suggested Jeff Kiss. “Fritz Schneid, and also the French capexogarchs – Édouard Stérilé and Arnaud Arrolle –, are vicious enough to employ hacker gangs. I mean, they did not shy back from sending murderers along to you, comrade Jean.”
The Hacking Pentagon
The Hacking Pentagon, by Jean-François and Alexandra, from left to right: Yannick, Ryan, Pat, Knut, and Thorben
“D’accord, I suggest we speak in English, and first tell each other a little bit more about ourselves. I am Yannick Dassault, I work with the New Thales underground workshops, and we produce mainly weaponry. We respect the decision of the Uberytes to do only pals – short for Policlinics, Amusement clubs, Logistics stations, and Sports studios –, in order to earn crypto with it to finance their family’s life-style, and keep some sort of money, mainly crypto-currencies as coins, cash, or cards circulating in case the ancient régime ever bounces back –, but we non-repentant members of the Dassault clan don’t think merely keeping the underground monetary economy going will help us roll back the revolution in any significant way. Neither do the Pappbergerytes. Maybe Knut and Thorben will tell us something about them later. We need to intimidate and ridicule the revolutionaries. We call ourselves the Hacking Pentagon, in allusion to the American Pentagon of course, the defence ministry in the pre-revolutionary United States of America, but of course, mainly because we are five. We have succeeded, using strictly their intranet security loopholes, no malicious viruses such as the MA virus, although we used a tiny bit of it.”
“We were thinking about using them in Africa,” said Aliko Dangote. “But the revs may have found it when looking for you pals.”
“Oh, what a shame, but as I said, you might not need MA. We simply invaded all their computers, old-fashioned desktops and laptops, as well as their new grow-along-with-you robots and soft-coated plushbots, via fake links or by guessing at their bio-IP via trial and error. We played around with all the minutes of their presentations at Illyria and Saint-Denis, about 80 so far, the written, as well as the audio and the video-version. We managed to turn the written versions almost into their opposite, in other words, reactionary pamphlets, the audios into garble, and the videos into clownery. They will need a jolly long while to get all of them fixed, especially since we planted some nanobots which re-insert the distortions even after they have managed to fix them.”
“D’accord,” said Henri Uber. “You criticise us pals for not being serious, but what’s serious about your pranks? These Illyrians and their friends know their stuff, they will restore their records in no time, and even if your nanobots give them a hard time, they can just install better security, I think they are already coming up with new ways to protect their files, with nanobots as well, they call them digital hounds, as well as with thicker bio-thickets, meaning using even more white noise created by humans, animals, robots, plants and other intranet-capable materials to prevent you from intercepting stuff. They also want to pull up better protection for the gateways of the Chinese Wall Security Suite, and they want to spread Elon Deer’s and Jeff Kiss’s catch-the-nasties app-… and that’s you Pappbergerytes mainly, they let us Ubereats be for the moment … They want to distribute that app so that every rev, man, woman, or child has it as a brain app, and can spot us from miles away.”
“Well, the answer to that is simple, we’ll go unarmed,” said Yannick. “And as for the digital hounds and bio-thicket, we’ll work like them intraline and on bio-wifi and try to install our brain apps along with theirs.”
“But how are we going to defend ourselves?” asked Fritz Schneid. “Most of our systems, even the brown beams, still depend on having a device such as a smart phone to launch them.”
Henri Uber just shrugged. “Well, I suppose, we’ll have to disarm.”
“No need!” said Yannick Dassault. “We simply use their ways. We learn to summon our brown beams via willpower as they do their red beams. Our brown beams will still be stronger than theirs, their red beams are just for self-defence.”
“But you said you planted some nanobots?” asked Étienne Stérilé. “How can you do that without smartphones to launch them?”
“We are working on a way to charge and direct them, actually, it is not about charging, but about directing them via willpower. Their metal content will no longer be distinguishable from the levels you normally find in our bodies. They will be bio-nanobots, so to say, like the revolutionary ones they use in construction, agriculture, and medicine. If the revs click one of our links or let them in any other way, through their skins even, our nanobots will infiltrate their devices and their brains.”
“O.k., Ryan McLeary and Pat Handsome, you both put Irish Aerospace next to your names and you put your names on the list for a villa in the ex-U.S.,” said Tino Kryptolla, the top European crypto-banker. “I have discussed this with Robert Capito, Mort Buckley, Ron O’Hanley, Jim Hooley, and other top bankers and they say, that’s o.k., we shall give you the loans, if you tell us exactly what you propose to do for us, or rather the Cause.”
“Well, Yannick explained it already. We want to ridicule and intimidate them, we want to make them uncertain of their own memories. And we think the interface between the brain apps and the remaining robots and other digital gadgets opens an excellent way of doing that,” said Ryan. “They’ll remember something from a meeting, conference, or assembly, but they’ll get something else from their devices. Texts, bio-audios, bio-videos, all three of them will be distorted. Ultimately, they will despair and no longer know where the truth is. I think this comrade Carla, the one who prepared the minutes up to this point, is almost ready to snap. Especially, because the nanobots always restore our version. And soon we shall have the bio-nanobots Yannick just talked about in complete working order.”
“Wait a minute, before we get into that again, tell us a bit more about yourselves. First of all, what is Irish Aerospace?”
“Well, you know that my dad, Mick Mc Leary, made his fortune with the passenger air company Dirtair. When the revolution came, he guessed the village assemblies would vote against mass passenger air traffic, and he was right. The village assemblies even managed to stop all passenger air traffic and replace it by trains and boats. Nowadays you travel to and from America, North and South, mainly on Transatlantic Ferry, from Europe to Africa and back via Mediterranean Ferry, and in Asia by big trains, such as the Transsiberian and the Beltrail, or in South Asia and Oceania by coastal ships and ferries. So, my father decided to focus on freight transport. It will never become possible to transport all freight in this world via beam, not in thousands of years. Yet to his great chagrin, the village assemblies have also forbidden freight transport by airplane, leaving it just to trains and small sail and solar powered freighters. The only planes allowed in the sky these days are rescue and emergency and research flights. And now the revs have even invented beam travel as an alternative. Some ex-aeronauts decided to join the revolutionaries and participate in their research on much smaller, but environment-friendly rescue and emergency and research planes, but my dad was not the type. So, he joined forces with Ricky Handsome, Pat’s dad, who before the revolution had managed Slut Trains. The revolution had abolished private railroads and in fact all big railroad companies, even national ones, leaving just self-managed train, train station, and switching station brigades linked via intranet. For a while, our two dads went violent, you know, producing fighter airplanes, tanks, drones and other weapons, and collaborated with the New Vichyites, Nikolai Morbidov, pardon Nicolas III in Russia, and later on, the Nah and Fern gang, as well as Pappberger’s underground Rheinmetall. Yet despite multiple attempts, we resistance fighters…”
“The gall they have to use that term!” vociferated comrade Denis listening intraline from Saint-Denis.
“… have found it impossible to restore freedom, private property, and the nation or the British or Russian monarchy that way, so we went for the new goal of sapping people’s morale. My dad even reskilled as a biochemical engineer and participated in the production of the LEP-AL and MA viruses. Both have as a side or even main effect to confuse victims, just as we do with our hacks. And we gave this endeavour the code name Irish Aerospace, because viruses and bacteria are air borne, so are hacks, I mean, most of them start by phasing, in other words interrupting and delaying things.”
“Yes,” said Pat. “Of course, Irish Aerospace is only a codename. It does not mean that we are all Irish. There are many English, Welsh, and Scots on the team, actually.”
“How many people are you?” asked Ron O’Hanley.
“Oh, a few hundred at the core, and several thousands of sympathisers all over the British Isles.”
“How come then that we have always heard about Elon Deer, Jeff Kiss, Bill Doors, and Nah and Fern, and nowadays about Arnim Pappberger and his heirs, and hardly ever about you?”
“That is because we do not always do what the Americans or the Germans do. The Americans are too idiosyncratic. I mean, you see it with the pals scheme. One day, Henri, Larry, Fernando, Louis, and Viesturs say they want to give up like Elon and Jeff and just retire and be good revolutionaries, but with a larger villa, the next day they sponsors coups and civil war all over Africa again. And the Germans,” Pat pulled a face. “They all have inflated egos to the point of megalomania. Think of Markus Nah, a few years ago, the way he used to run the Cause. Nothing happened without him, and since he could not do everything and be everywhere, his empire just collapsed and he went rogue. He has now promised the revs a way to trace our nano-bio-bots in people’s brains just like Elon and Deer are tracing metal.”
“Oh,” said Fritz Schneid. “I did not know that.”
“Yes,” said Thorben Kriegsbeil. “We heard it the other day from my dad. My dad actually has a banker’s background as well. He has not always been a politician.”
“So, you are going to give us the loan?” Pat interrupted him rather rudely. “Yannick, Thorben, and Knut don’t need a villa in America, unless you want one as a fall-back position, do you?” he turned to the three other Hacking Pentagon members. “Anyway, Ryan and I need ours desperately. Once any village assembly on the British isles seriously tries us, we shall have to emigrate. They take themselves very seriously.” Tino and the Americans laughed. “We shall see what we can do. Back to you, Thorben. So, your daddy was a banker as well, but he turned you into a computer nerd, how come?”
“He says that banking even before the revolution was done all by computers. ‘It is computers and politics,’ he always said. ‘Bankers give money to the people they like and withdraw it from people they hate, and they use computers and AI to make it look objective.’”
Ryan nodded grimly. “My dad always says that too. Anyway, computers and robotics are still the best game in the agglo. You can do everything with them, weapons, medicine, entertainment, transport.”
“One last question to you, Ryan, as you keep interrupting,” Robert Capito said grimly. “How come your dad did not get into travel beams? After all, the Cause invented the golden beams, which served as a model to their yellow beams, except that they made theirs more energy-efficient by allowing people to disassemble… Disadvantage, you can’t travel whole anymore.”
“Well, now we in the Cause have the brown transport beams, don’t we?” said Yannick. “They work as well as the yellow beams except that they make you a bit angry.”
“Well, couldn’t you put McLeary and Handsome to work on a way to make our brown beams even better than their yellow beams?”
“We are trying,” Ryan shrugged.
“But for now they have the better tech,” added Pat. “We just had to copy their model.”
“O.k.,” said Henry. “Another hint that it might be best to step back and think how we might work with them instead of against them.”
“D’ac, we may continue this discussion later,” scowled Yannick, who clearly did not like being challenged. “For the time being, Thorben and Knut, tell us something about the Pappbergerytes.”
“Well,” said Knut. “All his dad, Lars Kriegsbeil, when working with the Kreditanstalt for Wiederaufbau, and my mom, Katja Reiche, did as minister of the economy did was shuffle money into Arnim Pappberger’s coffers. That was the case even before the revolution. After the revolution, we were chafing at Nah’s dominance, but he had his buddy Ian Fern from the U.S. and also his brother Stefan helping him. He had French buddies too, Alain Rieux, François Pinault, and Xavier Niel, as well as Dutch-Belgian ones, Jan van der Greet, Eric Wittouck, Mansour Ojjeh, and Kromer Herren. Of course, Rieux and Pinault got too old, and Niel defected to the revolution. The Dutch and Belgians are still sitting in Zeebrugge with Ursula van der Leihen under her new alias, Ernestine Leylan, she no longer calls herself Empress Ulla these days, enjoying themselves in house arrest. Yet Nah was hard to get rid of, but when his star started to decline, in about Year 17-18, Pappberger and his gang immediately took over the business. As you know, Arnim has exactly the opposite point of view of you Uberytes, he thinks that all that will help against these Commies is a violent overthrow, hence weapon production. He is getting old now and is in house arrest as well, but his people, you Fritz, for instance, and Ronald, until he got arrested, are continuing to carry the flame.”
“And we were really onto something here in Africa,” lamented Fritz, “especially in Niger. We were exploring the ideal conditions for a coup, how many soldiers you need, and it turns out that you need a lot more than a few thousand, obviously, and things you might sell, even GMO plants.”
“You won’t need that many soldiers if you can confuse the people, for instance, with hacks or by wrecking the march of the trees,” Yannick pressed on. “You have to undermine their people, those whom they all listen to, like these Illyrians, spoil their morale, and their good and inspiring ideas, such as the march of the trees. I mean, if you think about it, what a wonderful dream, restore the rain forest and expand it, regrow the savannah, eliminate the desert, regrow the mixed forest… Even for us. Great to hide our villas in…”
“Except, how are we going to supply them? “ scowled Arnaud. “They need connections to the electricity grid and the water mains, as well as block energy works and wells to keep functioning. Once the revolutionary workers see how we function, with hierarchies, slipshod work, and lots of waste, they will no longer help us. That is why I was trying to agitate the countryside, you know, wind up people against the revolution peu à peu. ‘Admit it, there are not enough free oranges at the market, you would like some shadow dealers or rather light merchants to reappear, wouldn’t you?’ ‘And what about some solid medicine and vaccines, not just herbs and elements?’ That was a promising avenue. Instead we are stuck here in Africa.”
“Well, you should come back to the French lands,” said Yannick. “At least for a while until the march of the trees really gets underway. Then you can wreck it better! Together maybe, we can wring more havoc here.”
“Couldn’t we also recruit animals and plants for the Cause?” asked Thorben. “I mean, we are pretty good with robots and computers.”
Chapter 3. Carla flees
Lina’s birthday party , by Jean-Said and Natalie
Illyrians these days had difficulties concentrating on fasco bragging, even though the danger seemed to be getting closer to Illyria again, because Jean-Saïd had come home from Mali to celebrate the birth of Natalie’s and his daughter, little comrade Lina.
Only Carla and her helpers, her son Misha, his partner Yvonne, his trans friend Cato, his and Yvonne’s daughter Odile and her buddy Zamir, as well as Peter Gar of course, back from Sudan by yellow beam, were still collecting the intercepts, trees, birds and other live bio-wifi towers were sending them so as to try and find out what the fascos were up to, but also grinding again and again to reverse the hacks the fasco nanobots were reproducing day after day, hour after hour, all over the minutes, their text, audio, and video versions.
“I can’t stand it anymore!” Carla shouted when Jean-Saïd and Natalie stood at the porch asking them at least not to miss the grill-party Jean, Mina, and Hélène had organised over on Illyria’s main yard in honour of Lina’s birth. “Yes, we shall come for the grill, and tomorrow I am going for a vacation at Tanya’s in Novgornyi. Who wants to come with me, is very welcome. We can continue the work on the train and over there.” One after the other, Misha, Peter Gar, as well as Odile and Zamir raised their hands.
“And if something really dramatic happened, we could always beam back. We can help you keep the hacks under control,” Zamir said proudly, when everybody was looking at his small 12-year-old frame dubiously. “We are good with the intranet, and our new plushbots are excellent, fast and they can store all your data, text, bio, and video files.” His was shaped like a mining tower, because by even owning a plushtop, Zamir felt he was behaving like a metalmonger, Odile’s was shaped like her favourite doll.
***
“You are not really fleeing?” Peter Gar asked Carla when they were sitting on the main yard, partaking of grilled vegetables mainly, very little meat, and salads. “Of course not!” Carla whispered, “Tanya bio-messaged that they have got a new electronics and intranet workshop in Pionerskii, a little dodgy, five people, not from the area, foreigners with hardly any Russian, she thinks they may be our Hacking Pentagon.”
“That would be great,” said Peter Gar, stretching out his legs. “Catch them, bring them to trial before the Illyria Garden Colony Manouche Camp village assembly for insult and disparagement, get them to repent, and get done with the Pentagon once more. Like in 2021, Year Zero when the American people occupied it.”
“But then we should go to Novgornyi very quickly!” said Zamir. “We should take a yellow beam!”
“Absolutely!” said Misha, looking fondly at his daughter’s buddy. Jean’s boys were all such geniuses and so astute in practical matters at the same time.
“Mamon,” he turned to comrade Carla. “I know you have never travelled by yellow beam before, but now is the time to try. Zamir and Odile have learnt the technique at school. They will instruct us. Do you want to try?”
“Of course, if it ruins the fasco Cause!” Carla replied bravely, stiffening her spine. “And it’s not true I have never used a yellow beam before. At least once or twice I did already.”
“We are going to meet tomorrow morning early here in the yard, so let’s make sure we all get packed tonight,” said Misha. “But now it is time for ceremony and toasts.”
***
Lina’s birthday, Ceremony in the Yard, by Malik and Mao
Following established Illyrian tradition, the mother of the newborn first handed over the baby to its father, introducing it by name, and also mentioning as much as the parents and other comrades had already thought out about the child’s revolutionary purpose.
“Dear Jean-Saïd, dear comrades, may I introduce to you young comrade Lina,” Natalie started out as her papa, comrade Patrick ran all around the place taking photographs, for once not for l’Huma, but for everybody’s revbook. “She is the twentieth child to be born into the fourth generation of Illyrians and the nineth girl. We think young comrade Lina will be an ecologist specialising in the cold zones of the planet, specifically on how to help the march of the trees advance all the way up to the polar circle. That is in a way the opposite of regreening the desert and expanding the rain forest and the savannah. For that region, we need a bit of cooling. To help the areas around and beyond the polar circle recover from decades if not centuries of mining and industrial over-exploitation, we could even do with a bit of local warming. For that reason, we need not be as categorical about global cooling as the traditional ecological movement used to be.”
Jean-Saïd rubbed his nose against that of his little girl and said: “You already look like a cosmopolitan and a scientific explorer. Doesn’t she?” he asked into the round. And he lifted her up and turned her proudly in all four directions for everyone to see her. Often, terrible disasters happened on these occasions. Sometimes, the baby revolutionaries pissed themselves and their dads, had an involuntary bowel movement or started to cry, but Little Lina just looked happily into the evening light and seemed to be smiling and laughing at everybody. Everybody present or following online from Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove in Saint-Denis, Noah’s village in Timbuktu, Omsinbaba’s village, and the Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela cooperatives liked her instinctively.
Debarking in Novgornyi from a Yellow Beam, by Danya and Zhenya
Next evening already, the make-shift Baltic brigade had arrived in Novgornyi. It consisted of Jean-Saïd who had decided to accompany them for extra security before returning to Mali, as well as comrades Misha, Yvonne, Peter Gar, Carla, Zamir, and Odile. Comrades Maksim, Evgeni, Tanya, Danya, and Zhenya greeted them at the door and introduced them to little comrade Misha, Maksim and Zhenya’s son, who was playing inside the house in his pen.
“We don’t have a lot of time. In the evening, we shall have a meeting of the Novgornyi Recycling Hounds, as our neighbourhood assembly is called these days in analogy to the Moscow Recycling Hounds,” explained Evgeni. “Apart from Tanya and me, it comprises comrades Oleg and his wife Anna, Dima Dmitrivich and his wife Nadya, Andrei Andreivich and his wife Agnia – they are the young comrades that moved into the houses once almost sold for crypto by the Lithuanian counter-revolutionaries Lavrenti and Stanislav –, as well as comrades Gleb and Olga, Volodia and Natasha, and Lev and Galya whom you know already. Comrades Kostya and Olya, and comrades Vlad and Nina are affiliated, since their houses are close by. They will be at the meeting as well. The meeting will deal with the apparent urgent threat of a new clandestine workshop being built up close to Novgornyi, in the small seaside agglo of Pionerskii, consisting of several dozen villages Novgornyi size, 200 inhabitants at most. The workshop is in Pionerskii-South, which is closest to Novgornyi and our neighbouring village of Zaostrov’e.”
“Excellent!” said Peter Gar. “Then we have beamed over right in time. These fellows, if it is them, have almost ruined comrade Carla’s work of several years.” After a snack, all thirteen of them, including Little Misha in his pram, marched over to comrade Oleg’s farm. Of course, Kotov, the old repentant oligarch watched from his roof as he always did through his telescope.
The neighbourhood assembly of the Novgornyi Recycling hounds, by Marius and Jean-Luc
The assembly ended up being a real harp assembly. Apart from the afore-mentioned humans, there participated in it about a dozen dogs, including Tanya, Evgeni, Maksim, and Zhenya’s two dogs Sasha and Igor, several cows and two horses who walked up to the porch where it was taking place from the neighbouring pastures, hens who were running around nit-picking right in front of it, and all surrounding grasses, flowers, bushes, and trees, as well as the birds, squirrels, hares, insects, and other small animals in them. The moderation was going to rotate by the anarchy principle, comrade Dima as the initial moderator explained, meaning there was an alphabetical list including the guests from the French lands. Yet whoever wanted to would raise his or her hand, take over and would be allowed to moderate for half an hour at most until either the next comrade raised his hand or the moderation reverted to the next in the alphabetical list. Besides the human moderator, there was also always going to be an animal and a plant moderator. The robots and plushtops present, on the other hand, had decided to only intervene when called upon to retrieve data, run a moral imperative check – is a course of action apt to harm harpists, has it been approved by a significant number of village assemblies, or on the other hand rejected, and has it passed the required material and hierarchy checks? –, help with these hierarchy or material checks, and other things harpoids were good at.
“That’s how we do it at home in Illyria as well,” said Jean-Saïd. “Robby and his buddies hold back until a situation gets really critical.”
“What if the class enemy takes them over?” asked Evgeni.
Zamir thought about it. “They did not so far, because of the moral imperative, but of course now they have these icky new nanobots. Have you comrades heard of the Hacking Pentagon?”
The Russian comrades all laughed. Oleg lifted his hand. “Yes, as a matter of fact, that is what we wanted to inform you about. Tell us about it, comrade Danya!”
“Yes, Maksim, Zhenya, and I, young comrades Vitya and Tolya were also with us, spotted a new workshop, they called it ‘Beams and Bots’ in the outskirts of Novgornyi, almost in Pionerskii already. We did not think they would be fascos, so we did not get a militia quorum, we just went in and asked what they were about. They were about five lads, about ten years older than us, in their late twenties, early thirties, they spoke bad Russian, but they spoke a little. And they said that they were working on a new orange transport beam that would make people less angry than the yellow one.”
“Now we thought that was fishy, because the revolutionary yellow beams don’t make you angry. In fact, they rather put you in a good mood, like sunlight. So, we suspected they had to be referring to the counter-revolutionary brown beams.”
The revolutionary versus the counter-revolutionary bag of tricks, by Maksim and Zhenya
“For little comrade Misha, we drew a picture of all the revolutionary beams, the red stun beam, the bronze metallic beam to block weapons, the blue beam to block chemical weapons, the yellow transport beam, and the time tunnel allowing travel back into the past and forward into the future. On the other side are their beams and weapons to be wary of, the brown hate beams that do not just stun you but can kill you, their old-fashioned guns, their grey beams to transport chemicals and possibly nanobots, their brown and now orange travel beams.
“’We also have other projects,’ one of them said. He said his name was Erik, ‘like the famous Viking king who conquered almost the whole of the Baltic sea coast.’ He must have been Thorben, I don’t know why he gave us a false name, maybe he already suspected us to be young revolutionaries and was on his guard. ‘We have invented bios-nanobots that work to boost or slow down the intranet, depending. You may remember, a few years ago they had sort of tubular devices to shoot rays that would do that, but our new nanobots are much more capable and they can also be injected or infused in living bodies like medicine, via food, or drink, and will then direct things from inside. If you are interested you can help us. You look like clever fellows.”
“That sounds very interesting,” said Danya. “But I am an aspiring builder, or rather deconstruction-reconstruction expert.”
“He is an architect as well!” added Zhenya.
“Yeah, and Tolya and Vitya are farmers-agronomist types, but comrade Maksim, he is a real intranet wizard, he will be able to help you.”
“’And learn from you!’ Maksim said modestly. And they agreed on a time to meet, later on tonight. At eight, isn’t it?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I should be leaving now if I want to be on time!” Maksim was already standing.
“Well, you young comrades made a big mistake!” said comrade Volodia. “If you had only the faintest idea of security, you would not have done that . We can’t let you alone into their lair. They might beat you up…”
“Or pull you up a pole like they did with some of us in Mali,” nodded Jean-Saïd. “They are vicious. Even if it wasn’t true, you should have pretended others among you were intranet experts as well, Danya, Tolya, or Vitya. Who of you wants to go?”
“Always the one who is asking,” grinned Tolya. “Comrade Jean-Saïd, you should go. Together, Maksim and you will really impress them with your knowledge. You will have a discussion with them. They are hopefully going to talk their heads off, invite you to work with them for crypto, share planned acts of sabotage with you, hacking, even murder, who knows what they are up to.”
“Meanwhile we are going to get a quorum from all adjoining village assemblies and come in when the situation becomes in the least bit tense,” promised comrade Evgeni. “Don’t worry, you will be safe. Of course, don’t provoke them, but try to draw them out, about their hack of your minutes and their other plans. That way, spontaneous militia will have grounds to arrest them.”
“Jean-Saïd can’t go in,” comrade Carla shook her head emphatically. “Remember, they know our minutes, superficially maybe, but well enough to hack them at appropriate places, and comrade Jean-Saïd appears in almost all of them. Let me check, they may even have passed him a fasco head already.”
“I’ll go,” said Tolya. “As an agronomist-economist I know enough about nano-harpoids and the intranet. Don’t worry!” And then the others watched with a heavy heart as the two lads sauntered away over the meadow in the direction of Pionerskii.
***
“I know what to do with your brown beams to make the people who travel on them less angry,” comrade Maksim said already as they entered the Beams and Bots workshop. “I have thought about it. The brown beams are probably too slow or too fast or too shaky, you need to add a trifle more enthusiasm to them, like the revs do when they take their yellow beams.” He tried to talk like a fasco and almost fooled them.
“Indeed, our brown beams are too fast and too shaky,” Yannick admitted, looking attentively at Maksim. “I have noticed that every time I’ve travelled on them. We want them fast, since we often need them to escape tricky situations, but maybe we could make them less shaky. What do you suggest?”
What’s in the garage?, by Laurence and Emmanuel
“You must add more willpower. Let us say I want to find out what is in the garage back there. I want an orange beam, as you call it, to carry me from here to the garage in back.” Before the Hacking Pentagon could object, Maksim had already disintegrated and boarded a brown, or what in the hands and under the feet of his good mind looked already a lot more orange, and jumped off, reassembled, inside the garage already. The Hacking Pentagon had barely followed, and Thorben and Knut were trying to push Maksim out of the garage again which contained several electrical transporters as well as a few containers with unknown content. “You have to leave here,” Knut said. “This part of our operation has nothing to do with research.”
“Don’t bullshit them!” said Ryan. “We can be good pals, I am sure. You see, what we are trying to build up here is a Uberyte logistics station, you know, sponsored by Henri Uber, heir of the ex-trillionaire, combined with an assembly workshop, combined with a research lab. You could work with us, why not?”
“Don’t tell us you want to pay us in crypto?” asked Tolya who had arrived disassembled on an orange beam almost as fast as Maksim.
“Why not?” asked Yannick, pushed a button on a small Elon Deer 3 D printer in the corner, and in a minute, handed Maksim and Tolya a crypto-Ruble gold coin each.
“It is real gold,” he said. “Not Siberian, but African, friends brought it over from Mali, doesn’t matter. You could spend it on lots of things.”
“Yeah,” said Maksim, turning the coin around, pretending to be interested. “Except there are hardly any shadow corners at the markets and share points anymore.”
“And why should there be?” interjected Tolya. “Everything you need, you get for free, food, clothes, household goods, furniture, toys, books, bags, grow-along-with you robots and plushbots… Your house you own, education is free, work is open to anyone and limited in time so nobody has to stress, travel is free, medicine is free.”
“Don’t you feel like you always have to do the expected thing?” asked Pat. “Go to school, help at home, do your three hours a day of socially required work?”
“No, because after that comes the creative work, like the orange beam we’ve just invented,” explained Maksim. “You notice, it is no longer brown, but orange, because it is based on a happier wavelength. You summon it to explore rather than run away.”
“Point taken,” said Yannick. “We usually use them to escape. Let us demonstrate you our bio-nanobots then.” And he called up a page of the minutes on a plushbot in the shape of a stork. “Do you like it?” he asked when he saw their admiring looks. “We designed these plushbots especially for this workshop in this region. The 3 D printer will be able to do them as well soon. This one is just a prototype.”
“Now look, I’ve send some nanobots via an attachment to an E-Mail. Watch!” Maksim and Gleb looked and could hardly believe their eyes. The Minutes of Maksim’s grandmother’s Minutes were being transformed before their eyes. ‘I think it is comrade Pierre and the young revolutionaries playing a prank. I think they may even be collaborating.’” Immediately, they could hear poor comrade Carla shriek in the back of their brains. “I never said anything like that.” “And look!” Now they could see and hear Carla say these twisted-around words in a video, and even with her own head on. “Don’t you think this could be a powerful tool?” asked Yannick and grinned. “Why don’t you want to work with us?”
From his farm a couple of hundred kilometres apart in Lithuania, Viesturs Volt and a few of his pals were watching the events unfold.
“Now they’ve got them trapped. They know it’s dangerous, you can tell. They have to either say yes or bolt!”
“Yes,” they heard Maksim and Tolya say to their amazement. “Maybe you have thought about it already,” Maksim continued. “You can saturate the air with your nanobots. Not even masks will help against them. They will enter through your ears, your skin even. ‘Remember, Tolya,’” he pretended to be lecturing his friend. “They are smaller than viruses, a lot smaller actually. And that way you can overwrite harpists’ memories as well.”
Chapter 4. The Volt Connection
Thwarting the Diffusion of the Moral Atrophy Virus, by Maher and Karla
“We were lucky to get away quickly,” said Maksim, once Tolya and he had reassembled after making a quick exit on a revolutionary yellow beam. “They were about to uncork the champagne and plan in detail how we would bring about the necessary saturation levels.”
“They projected a virtual monitor to the wall from their brain app like we do, and Viesturs Volt appeared, you know the Baltic underground oligarch who works with Henri Uber in the pals scheme these days, policlinics, amusement clubs, logistics stations, and sports studios. They said he would be fascinated by this idea. Later Mick Mc Leary, Ricky Handsome, and Klingbeil and Reiche Senior were going to tune in as well.”
“O.k.,” said Volt, who seemed a bit tired. “How would you saturate air, water, harpists, whatever? Remember we no longer have planes, or even enough drones, and when our friend Arnaud tried to disseminate the MA (Moral Atrophy) virus by hand, so to say, by letting adherents of the Cause open cans of it pretty much everywhere in the French countryside, it ended in a disaster. Spontaneous militia showed up much too early.”
“You’d have to do it more like it was done with Covet, Coflu, and Lep-AL, hiding it in radiators, on trains and other vehicles, diffusing it via water and even food, or via grey beam,” Maksim pretended to be thinking aloud. Grey beam was a transporter beam for chemicals, we revolutionaries had invented the blue beam to stop it and absorb any toxic chemicals in the air. The two young comrades knew they had to leave before they were finished with the common places. They certainly did not want to become the captives of these thugs and be exploited as everything from idea-givers to lab workers. “So we just summoned a yellow beam surreptitiously, on a delta wave, without them noticing it, and here we are.”
“O.k., then,” said Peter Gar who had raised his hand to moderate. “Let’s hear what your new pals are saying now?”
“I told you they were dodgy!” they immediately could hear Viesturs yell once they had turned on the bio-wifi. Now their brains were picking up the fasco conference transmitted via the bio-chatter of rustling leaves, branches, and grasses, birds and insects, small and large animals, humans, robots, plushbots, and other intranet capable devices, and even just intranet-capable material, including plastic that the revolution no longer produced, but only recycled.
***
“By the way,” asked Odile. “Earlier you said they projected a monitor from their brain like we do the Aurora browser. Do they use the Aurora browser as well?”
“No,” said Jean-Saïd. “They use the Enterprise browser and the Self-made operating programme. Yet they’ve somehow managed to steal our brain apps technology. Our operating programme these days is the One World Harp revolution programme. It is what our remaining devices have installed, and it is or will soon be compatible with all harpists’ brains or cell nuclei, humans, animals, and plants.”
***
“The way the dark-haired one immediately showed off his knowledge of grey beams,” continued Volt. “That means that he must be involved with counter-intelligence, a normal high school student wouldn’t have known that.”
“He seemed to be a university student already,” said Yannick. “And anyway, the young revs learn about us at school already these days. Remember, they do their spontaneous militia training as part of sports class when they are 16 or 17.”
“Anyway, they are gone, so, what do you propose?” The Hacking Pentagon members hesitated.
“Grey beams are an idea,” Fritz Schneid intervened from Mali. “Why not? An added advantage would be that we do not have to pump the Uberytes for investment goods. Henri Uber is very angry at us at this point, he wonders what we are doing in Mali. He praises you up, Hacking Pentagon, the way you have managed to confuse the revs with your minute hack, and quite without having to murder or at least violently attack someone. So keep it up!”
“Well, you should come and help us. You would just have to tell Henri and the others that you have gone to Mali for a long-term project to thwart their march of the trees with synthetic fertilisers, GMO, maybe MA and neuro-transmitters, and of course your bio-nanobots,” said Arnaud Arrolle.
“Can you explain again what they are all about? And could you send us samples?” asked Édouard Stérilé.
Fasco conference with the Hacking Pentagon, by Olivier and Danièle, from top left to bottom right: First monitor: Henri Uber, Larry Flink, Fernando Deliverando, Louis Deshalles, The Grey banker, and Viesturs Volt, Second Monitor: Fritz Schneid, Édouard Stérilé, Marion Le Pen (Has she gone trans?), Arnaud Arrolle, and Anne Hidalgo, Third Monitor: Illyrians watching stealthily, Second row: Yannick, Ryan, Pat, Knut, and Thorben
“Well,” was Maksim’s and Jean-Saïd’s dry reaction to everybody’s applause, from Illyria Garden Colony Manouche Camp, Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove in Saint-Denis, Timbuktu, Mali and all over the world, from the Almond Tree Brigade in Beijing via the Gandhi 2.1. cooperative in Kolkata and Mumbai, to the Muammar Ghaddafi, Desmond Tutu, and Nelson Mandela coop, to Noah’s, Seth’s, and Omsinbaba’s villages in Mali, Niger, and Senegal, Miguel’s and Claudia’s village assemblies in Pueblo del Desierto, Mexican lands, Caracas, Venezuelan lands, Cumbrecita and Medio de la Pampa, Argentina, the Twin Cooperative at the Little Bighorn Mountains in North America, and comrades in other places. “We thought, let them have a taste of their own medicine. As you will see and hear in a moment, they are getting more modest already.”
“We can’t send you samples just yet,” said Ryan. “But we can explain to you again what they are and what they do. Just wait til our parents are intraline, and we cope with the latest rev hack.” Within minutes, Mick McLeary, Ricky Handsome, Rudolphe Dassault, Lars Kriegsbeil, and Katherina Reiche and their associates had all joined the bio-wifi thread, and the five Hacking Pentagon members could address a crowd of about twenty. Of course, the Illyrians, Garden Colony, Manouche camp, Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove neighbours as well as their friends world-wide, including the Novgornyi and Moscow Recycling Hounds were listening intently intraline without revealing their connection.
“In order to hack their minutes,” Ryan explained, “We used the old-fashioned methods of sending e-mails with fake links which when they clicked them allowed us to get their IP address and keystroke them even when they were working. We were also able to access their computers via their bio-wifi networks even when they were offline and finish our work. Now, the new bio-nanobots we are developing are unique in that we can use them to phase and hack humans, animals, and plants, hence the adjective bio, as well as their intranet devices, the latter via syncing from their brains infected with the virus.”
“Links are getting out of fashion as with the device-less communication,” grumbled Mick Mc Leary. “I am glad you came up with something to replace them, son, as well as you other members of the Hacking Pentagon of course.”
“What if they manage to hack our intranet with a similar kind of bot, let’s call them rev-or red nanobots if you will?” asked Arnaud. “By the way, who is the sixth man sitting with the Uberytes, why does Fritz have long hair, and why does Marion have a beard?”
“Well, that brings us to our next project, the one we quizzed the young revs about today,” Pat Handsome took over here quickly as if he hadn’t heard Arnaud’s questions. “These days, they protect their computers and their brains by a triple security framework. First comes the original Chinese Wall Security Suite. Had the e-mails with the links we sent them been in the least dodgy, it would not even have allowed the revs to click them. Yet as we said, we hid them in mails from very trusted comrades of theirs.”
“Who work with us, I hope?” asked Pat’s father, Rick Handsome.
“No, unfortunately not, they are just people whose phones, laptops, robots or plushbots we were able to access. The second line of defence are the Illyrian digital hounds. They sniff e-mails and links whether they are dodgy at all before they allow the user to click them. Our bio-nanobots will put them to sleep.”
“Why did they not bark when you sent your links the old-fashioned way?” asked Reiche.
“Because we fooled them with the trusted address,” her son Knut answered. “And we inserted a bit of a virus into their computers, the Moral Atrophy virus which slows things down.”
“And the third method which we could not have overcome without their relying in part on old technology, is the bio-thicket. If their main minute editor, comrade Carla, had just collected contributions directly from comrades’ brains and collated them in hers, we would have had a jolly hard time penetrating that. The bio-thicket is the concerted resistance by humans, animals, plants and other intranet and bio-wifi-capable material against harmful interference. We will only be able to penetrate that with a massive dose of nanobots, and or by breaking up their harp – human, animal, robot, plant – alliance. Up to now, we have very few friends of the Cause among animals and plants.”
“Sometimes they help us though,” elaborated Yannick. “Usually out of fairness, when we are hugely outnumbered, as you snooty fellows were in Siberia, for instance. Then the nature chorus may not transmit our location so fast and give us a chance to run. That helped us get away from the French lands the other day and set up the workshop here. Now I am no longer so sure we are safe. How did these young revs find us yesterday?” It was already past midnight and a new day had started. “How come they were able to get away so fast on their orange or yellow beams without us having any clue where they went? And how come they were able to hack this conference?”
“Probably from a farm somewhere in the environs?” guessed Stérilé.
“Yes, of course,” sighed Yannick, “but if the nature chorus of animals and plants was permitting us access to their data, we would have a Froogle or Selfmade map showing us exactly the way they went.
“Anyway, there are two ways of phasing and hacking ourselves into their network. The first negative one is the bio-nanobots, we explained them already, just phasing and hacking their brains and cell nuclei. The second, positive method would involve either using the bio-nanobots or our own separate assemblies with animal, plants, and other intranet-capable devices to convince these to work with us.”
“Yet how would we do that?” Kriegsbeil asked sharply. “The revs do it by allowing them to participate in all decision. That would absolutely ruin our way of life. We would not be allowed to restore any large, polluting industry and energy plants, no more weapons, no more vehicles, planes, or ships, let alone fuel-guzzling ones, no more paved roads at all – we have already lost most of them thanks to their silly back to the field roads policy. No more electricity grids or water mains, no more concrete as building material, because the animals and plants don’t like all of these things either, and the revs are obviously trying to please them. If we are lucky, we’ll get block energy works and wells, digital devices as toys, electricity-intensive household appliances only when shared, smaller houses, dispersion of the agglos, and so on. In other words, the revolutionary programme, in an accelerated version even! And we couldn’t offer them any crypto, could we? I mean animals and plants don’t understand money. Or would we be able to teach them?”
“Maybe, in the distant future, when animals and plants have gotten much closer to humans, but of course, we have to assume that most of them will be revolutionaries. The revs will look out for everybody’s well-being, they now call that the trefoil check, meaning does everybody get what they need for free, via simple sharing in the household, neighbourhood, and village, or revolutionary barter between households, neighbourhoods, workshops, and villages? They have also rediscovered something old renaissance economists like Quesnay called the economic circuit, where everybody works his or her fifteen hours necessary labour time plus up to twenty-five hours creative work per week, and in exchange gets everything he or she, and their family needs. Similarly, workshops get all the inputs and investment goods they need for delivering their products to people or other workshops who need them. You could imagine practicing a similar organisation with animals, getting them to pull your plough in exchange for plenty of room to run and feed, a nice cosy place in the stable, plenty of hay, but I can’t really imagine a horse working for money, can you?”
“Then how could we prove our superiority over the revolutionaries?”
“Maybe we could get plants to accept genetic fertilisers and GMO variants, and animals silage and other processed fodder, but would it really float their boat, I am not sure,” Yannick seemed genuinely confused.
“Maybe they’d need some forms of water treatment as well?” suggested Fritz Schneid.
“Well, you would have to try, son, wouldn’t you?” old Rudolphe Dassault, speaking from house arrest, tried to encourage his son. “For the time being, your new bio-nanobots seem to me to be a very promising avenue.”
Chapter 5. The Mali Connection
Noah and Michelle abducted, by Malik and Mao
Their listening marathon got interrupted, when Jean-Wadi, Maher, and the other comrades of the Mali brigades burst in with an even more dramatic message. “Oh, quick comrades, come intraline, comrades Noah and Michelle have been abducted.”
“How could that have happened? How come they were alone?”
“Oh, we thought the fasco danger had subsided,” Aslan explained. “Without Ronald Gunpump and Thomas Rutte they have become a lot less aggressive, mostly sitting at home, biding their time. Their security, Jordan, Kévin, and Raymond just protect the top five, Étienne, Arnaud, Fritz, Anne, and Marion, they do not go out for aggressive actions of their own. There is also no sign they were involved. We haven’t seen them go out, we have not seen anyone bring in Noah and Michelle either. Maybe some new battalion with its headquarter somewhere else in town has got them.”
“What about bio-chatter? Some indication that they welcomed new pals in town?”
“Nothing except two lines from Fritz. Oh, great! Could be the reaction to ‘We have arrived’, and or ‘We have captured Noah and Michelle.’ ‘Did the orange beam work?’ And there was a muffled answer: ‘Not as straightforward as the golden beam. ‘You have to disassemble and sometimes you have to take detours. But at least you don’t get angry any longer as with the brown beam.’ Yet wasn’t it the Hacking Pentagon that invented the orange beams back in Novgornyi?”
“It certainly was. So, it could be them! But where are they? Maybe we are listening to a delayed transmission of their conference, but it can’t have concluded more than a few hours ago.”
“It is somewhere in the old town,” they could hear Noah now. “I have a terrible headache, a concussion probably. I must have fallen on my head when they took us. Michelle is alright. She is sitting at my side, we are both wearing chains.”
“Do you have anything intranet-capable with you, a piece of jewellery maybe? Remember the gold chain that directed us to the neighbours of their meeting place?” asked Jean-Wadi.
“Nope, but we’ll look out for birds and other animals. What to tell them?”
“To either come directly to your parent’s place or send your location through very trusted sources only. They are getting better at intercepting our chatter and surrounding themselves with bio-thicket, otherwise we would have located them a long time ago.”
“For now, let’s use the connection we have for as long as it lasts. But keep it on delta waves. Have you seen them?”
“Just people wearing headscarves, could have been men or women. You could barely see their eyes.”
“Have they given you anything, drink, food, injections?”
“Just injections and a bit of water.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Peter Gar. “Could the injection be their new intranet nanobots already? I won’t call them bio, because they aren’t.”
“Let’s go then!” said Jean-Saïd, and had already summoned the beam. Comrades Misha, Maksim, and Zamir followed.
“Vitya, want to come?” Without thinking long, Vitya, son of Nora, the buffalohuman, began to disassemble as well. The journey of 5000 km took the rest of the night and a good part of next day, but when they arrived it was in the middle of another required mobilisation.
“We have an idea where they could be,” Jean-Wadi quickly informed his brothers and comrades. “You stay here and monitor the bio-chatter. We are going in with Saïd, Rodion, the three Chechens Aslan, Zelim, and Muhammed, a local spontaneous militia brigade, and Jean-Vladimir, Maher, and me as technical support. Wish us luck!”
Jean-Saïd, Zamir, and the other travellers were very tired, yet they had to keep awake to follow the bio-wifi transmissions, in particular any indication of whether the abductors were making any preparations to flee or to fight, because that would decide on the strategy of the rescuers. In both cases, the Illyrians and the medic would first rush to the room where Noah and Michelle were kept and of which they already had several shaky bio-videos made by Noah’s and Michelle’s brain apps. Yet in the first case, the three Chechens and the Malians would try to follow the abductors and try to stun them, whereas in the second case, they would have to face them.
“Beware of their lethal brown beams!” Jean-Saïd still managed to bio-message the liberators. “Remember, their transport beams look orange now!” added Maksim. Then they just had to wait. It was night again already in Timbuktu, although Novgornyi was two hours ahead. There were a lot fewer birds here, young comrade Zamir noticed to his amazement, and even at this later hour, it was still much hotter. He tried to get in touch with Odile back in Novgornyi, but she seemed to be sleeping. Peter Gar and Carla were still awake though sitting anxiously with Evgeni and Tanya, worried stiff about the Novgornyi digital hound brigade as they called it lovingly. “So glad you arrived in Mali!” they bio-messaged happily, neglecting to use the secure delta waves, not thinking that this would prejudice the action of Noah and Michelle’s liberators.
Yet it did. A message from Noah, this one on delta waves, followed immediately. “They are getting suspicious. You must make haste. I think they want to get us on a beam, it is kind of orange-colour.” Luckily, the disintegration process needed to travel on a beam somehow interfered with the injection Noah and Michelle had gotten, and when the Malian militia followed by our Illyrian comrades burst through the door, Michelle was just starting to disassemble, Noah was only somewhat further advanced. In a desperate move, Jean-Wadi stunned both of them with red beam. Fortunately, this stopped the disassembly process completely. The two of them even reassembled, but lay flat on the ground barely breathing until the medic got to them. The Malians and their Illyrian helpers were able to stun a few of the abductors, about eight of them. The others, up to a dozen, beamed away on orange beams. Whether the Hacking Pentagon were among them or had just communicated their technology was not clear yet. Anyway, they would find out from those they had manage to stun and whom they now handcuffed.
“One of them is white, you want to see whether you know him?” one of the Malians asked the Illyrians, and of course they did. It was Raymond, part of Schneid, Stérilé, and Arrolle’s security detail. He was quite willing to testify.
***
“They are getting weirder and weirder. And now there are the new ones, there are neither Pappbergerytes nor Uberytes, and they fight all the time!”
“You mean the Hacking Pentagon?”
“Not only five, eight, there are three more new ones. One is the old Fritz Merz’ son, not the Fritz Schneid you know, bio-tech producer, but the ex-German politician you call Fritz le Merc. He calls himself Fritz April. So we have two Fritzes’ now. Then there is Boris Pistazius’ son, he calls himself Iwan, with a w, but I don’t know whether that is his real name. Maybe it is, just to disparage Russians. Was it Pistazius who said that the Russians will always be Germany’s enemies? What about us French then?
“And then there is an American, son of Donald Trumpel. His name is Barron. You know, how you revolutionaries tend to call the second echelon below the bankers and sponsors at the top, barons. Well, young Barron jokes he is a Baron, if not the only baron you revs will have to reckon with. They beamed in, on orange beams, from different directions, some from the East, some from the West, only shortly before the abduction.
“May I have some water? It was herkin hot in that house, I am still all dehydrated. So, they talked briefly to us, and then we went by transporter to a crossing not far away, where Noah and Michelle were getting produce at a market stall. We just walked up to them, you may ask the stall attendant, gave them a calm-down jab then and there and escorted them to be transported. The only problem, once we were in the transporter, your comrade Noah started to resist, tried to throw himself against people, so as to clear the way to the back door and drag his girl behind him. That’s when he hit his head. So, we had to sedate both of them again and put chains on them. We drove to that secret place and kept them in the room next door to ours. You have seen it, it is a nice clean room, and they got water and food five times a day, water eight times. So, we did not torture them, no way!”
“They say they did not get anything!” Maher said. Raymond blushed.
“I wasn’t the one who carried it in, I just assumed they got the same we were getting.”
“And these new nanobots that you injected us with, nothing bio about them,” complained Michelle. “They give you a feeling of being constantly on an electric charge, not only your brain, but the rest of your body as well. Imagine giving those to animals as you plan to. For cattle that would be like having to constantly run against electrical fences. And I don’t know what they would do to plants.”
“Well,” admitted Raymond. ”I don’t know about those bio-nanobots either. That’s the Hacking Pentagon or Octogon who made them. I am just a gun specialist.”
“Just a minute, this is Jérôme from Illyria. That is legit that we exchanged Ronald and Thomas for Noah and Michelle, or was that just another hoax of theirs?”
“What?!” Comrades Jean-Wadi, Maher, Karla, Josip, Rosa, Jean-Saïd, and Misha, their Novgornyi comrades Maksim, Tolya, and Vitya, as well as Saïd, Rodion, Aslan, Zelim and Muhammed could hardly believe their ears. Noah and Michelle grinned apologetically, as if to signal, sorry about all the fuss about us.
“Comrades Jean, Mélanie and Murielle were at the prison when it happened. Tell us, what happened, comrades!”
“We asked to see them, or rather Jean asked to see first one, then the other, but the guards told us a village assembly near Timbuktu, I did not catch the name, had voted to let them go in exchange for the liberation of Gunpump and Rutte.”
“Was that an e-mail?” asked Jean who immediately believed in another hack.
“No, they called us, I have the bio-call trace still,” said the prison guard. Nowadays you no longer had a phone number, just a trace, like a bio-IP. “Let me call them back!”
Taking a bit of a chance, prison guards were spontaneous and rotating as well among all suitable men and women of the region. Well this time, relying on non-experts with common sense had resulted in a disaster.
“I took the call,” said Jean. “And a very educated voice, you bet another ex-capexogarch son explained that he was the speaker of the village assembly, I found that dodgy, since even our moderators change every half hour or even 15 minutes, and we certainly no longer have any speakers, ‘and the villagers have taken the decision they should be let go to save Noah and Michelle’s lives.’
“’But they are free,’ I, Jean said, ‘a spontaneous Malian militia brigade just liberated them in the presence of a few of our young comrades from Illyria, French lands and Novgornyi, Russian lands.’
‘Well,’ the educated voice said, ‘then you can be glad that you already let go Thomas Rutte and Ronald Gunpump, otherwise the captors might have killed your comrades.‘ And the polite young man hung up.”
“Thanks for showing willingness to repent, comrade Raymond. Do you know anything about this deal?” Jean asked Raymond intraline from Fleury-Mérogis. “Yes, I overheard them making the arrangements, but they said they were not going to let go of Noah and Michelle. They were going to take them back with them to the Russian lands.”
The Hacking Octogon, by Jean-François and Alexandra
“And they are the Hacking Octogon?” Jean asked slowly as if trying to get his mind around something else. “I think we shall call them ‘Uncritical German Sons’, in contradistinction to the Russian ‘Sons’, who were also sons oligarchs and the French ‘Critiques’ who were more critical.”
“Only Yannick may be a bit critical, the Anglo-Saxons are mavericks, the Germans seem like real Nazis,” Raymond nodded. “The new Fritz even dies his hair grey although he is in his twenties. I think they said Noah and Michelle were saturated with bio-bots, and they did not want you to gain any knowledge from that.”
“Comrades Noah and Michelle, you will need to flush them out,” comrade René, Illyria’s family doctor intervened from Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove in Saint-Denis. “But save your urine and faeces and have them analysed immediately at a New University of Timbuktu lab. We need to isolate and dissect these nanobots. Do you have enough water?”
“Not to sound defeatist, but shouldn’t you all return home for a break?” asked Jean. “You need to get well, some of you need to touch base with their school or university, and then we can send a regrouped brigade back here.”
“I disagree,” Noah croaked. “We can take a break, but not before at least two new brigades, six scientists, and six security are ready to take over. What about you, Malik and Mao, jumping in for Michelle and me?”
“Of course, papa, that’s a great idea,” rejoiced Malik. Little comrade Aisha will be happy with her buddies, and comrade Claudia’s, Rim’s, Lénina’s and the other mamies’ and mamons’ care,” Mao added with a slight quiver of worry in her voice.
“Josip, Rosa, Karla and I can stay on here a while longer,” Maher offered. “Our vacation is not yet over and we are still comparatively fresh.”
“I may have to check on the robot labs at Illyria and at Institut Galilée, I suppose,” said Jean-Wadi.
“Don’t suppose,” comrade Zafira intervened on delta waves from Illyria. “Sandrine,” their two-year-old daughter, “and I miss you terribly.”
“D’accord,” said Jean, looking a bit worried at Maher, and making a late-night date with him on delta waves to give him, Karla, and the others further advice on how to act and stay safe.
“I could go back to Mali instead of Noah in his role as security,” said Seth, his buddy from Niger. “But can you, Saïd, Rodion, and you Chechens stay a bit longer? I know, comrade Boris and the four Cambodians are burning for an opportunity to go over, but comrades Saïd, Aslan, Zelim, and Muhammed speak Arabic.”
“No problem,” said the four of them. Of course, everybody knew that Saïd would not go or stay anywhere without comrade Rodion, so that settled the composition of the two interim Illyrian Mali brigades as they became known.
The two interim Mali brigades, from top left to bottom right: Seth, Saïd, Rodion, Aslan, Zelim, and Muhammed, second row: Malik, Mao, Josip, Rosa, Maher, Karla, third row: On virtual monitors: left-hand side Jean, right-hand side Zafira and Sandrine, on floor, Noah and Michelle, centre: Jean-Wadi, to the right, Zamir, Maksim, Jean-Saïd, and Vitya
After dinner, a delicious millet and vegetable stew, it was time to return to questioning Raymond. Just like Noah and Michelle, he was put up, chained and handcuffed in a separate room, in Noah’s ancestral hut on the Niger river.
“So, they were planning to go back to the Russian lands?” comrade Sergei, senior Moscow Recycling Hound, asked intraline. “Any idea what they are going to do there?”
“I think they take their cues from what you revolutionaries are planning,” Raymond said demurely. “So, at the moment, that is the march of the trees and anarchy. You have already worked out that they want to ruin the march of the trees with their synthetic NPK fertilisers and GMO trees to ruin growth, the MA or Moral Atrophy virus and synthetic neuro-transmitters to make them weak and unable to march, and their new bio-nanobots to alternatively boost or block the intranet. This will not only help them intercept your messages, hack you, and get more bio-thicket for themselves, but will also contribute to weaken the plants, jeopardising the march of the trees.”
“Well explained, comrade Raymond,” cheered Jean-Wadi. “Glad you are coming back with us to the French lands. So far, it has been a joy debriefing you. Are you a physicist or computer scientist maybe?”
“I am just a square man in a round form,” Raymond giggled, visibly pleased to have impressed the young revolutionaries, then continued modestly.
“Yet that’s not all. Now they have come up with a second line of attack. They want to undermine your harp assemblies.”
Noah and Michelle almost dropped their spoons, upset as they were still from their nanobot-poisoning. “They want to use the MA virus and nanobots to weaken animals and plants on the one hand, and on the other hand also try to sweet-talk them into working with the Cause instead of the revolution, and this in mock harp assemblies where they pretend to be concerned about their welfare.”
***
“Are you sure that they went to the Russian lands and not to France: read, listen, and watch!” comrade Lénina intervened intraline.
And they looked astounded at the text and video file of the minutes as it unfolded in their brain app and were surprised by the sound of it. The figure speaking had Raymond Barré’s head on alright but was speaking and texting garbage: “The Cause wants to back animals and plants, and also convince them to topple the dictatorship and work with the Future.”
“So, a new word for the Cause seems to be the Future. Let’s check. And in all 80 or so minutes up to and including the current one entitled ‘Minutes’ they have replaced the term Cause with Future, even if it created garbage like ‘The Future has seen worse times’.”
“Well, you ask, why would they go back to the Russian lands? Well, you are in the Russian lands, aren’t you, Carla?” joked Jean-Saïd. Carla drew a sour face. “But I am just the editor. The text, audio, and video files are being built automatically in three places, where you are, in Timbuktu, in Illyria, and here in Novgornyi. And the hacking seems to be taking place almost simultaneously in all three places. They seem to have unlimited access to our devices and even to our brain apps. How can that be?”
“They need a sufficient number of nanobots to alter the recording,” explained Maksim. “Here in Mali, it can be Noah and Michelle’s brain, in Illyria your devices they have conquered earlier, and yeah, maybe you ought to check your devices in Novgornyi as well. Too bad I am not there. Comrade Danya, now I am glad you stayed back. Can you check where the leak is coming from?”
“Yes, I can. It is a mail from comrade Pierre!”
“How can that be?” comrade Pierre almost exploded with rage. “I never even bio-messaged you once in my life.”
“Well, but you are an Illyrian. That is the problem. They graft the virus or nanobot on innocuous-looking fake mails,” explained Danya. “In this case it is a video of a trial run of a tree march around Aimeran and Illyria. We knew who you were. We were all interested, we clicked it, that was last Friday. And since then, all our records are distorted as well, even those in Russian. Their Russian is not that good, they are probably using some kind of AI tool for that as well.”
Chapter 6. Winding up the Harpists
Somewhere in the Vosges, by Che and Georgette
“They have found five ways to wind up the harpists! Listen to this!” comrade Jérôme had called the meeting early, even before the Illyrians and Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove comrades had finished their dinner, and before the interim Mali brigades and the comrades in other places world-wide had even found the time to gather in assembly. “Sorry for rushing you,” said Jérôme. “But this is really urgent, and I implore you to include as many harpists as possible, animals and plants especially into this conference.”
“You are also part of the Illyrian robot brigade?” asked Simon, a young comrade from Columbia, whom Hugo from his village in Caracas and the other South American comrades had managed to include.
“No, he does what I do,” explained young comrade Temujin from his village in Mongolia. “He monitors the intranet world-wide for signs of danger, it can be weather alerts, but also and mainly fasco planning conferences. And this one is a big thing. The Hacking Octogon or New Sons – Yannick, Ryan, Pat, Knut, Thorben, Iwan, Barron, and the latest Fritz –, have called a harp assembly to pull animals and plants to their side. No dinosaurs. One of their moderators, I think it was Yannick, mentioned that they refused point-blank.”
“We have always had good relations to the dinosaurs,” explained Sosthene from Lake Chad. “We Africans especially, but even the Europeans. We conversed in the same language back in the Mesozoic, and since we humans were smaller, we did not become too cheeky. Where is the meeting taking place?”
“Somewhere in the French lands!”
“In the Vosges mountains to the East of Paris,” interjected Raymond. “They were talking about it when I was still with them. Near an old derelict castle that used to belong to René Huntziger.”
“Oh, I know where that is,” said René’s son Marcel. “It is not a castle, only a large house, but I can guide you there.”
“Yes, as soon as we have evidence of criminal intent we shall call for a quorum and sent spontaneous militia brigades there,” said Jérôme, relieved that everybody was agreeing with his assessment of clear and present danger. “Let’s listen first!”
“Well, let’s have an assembly revolutionary style,” Barron was just saying, making an effort at speaking nature-speak. “We used to have them in old America as well, the revs need not be so conceited, they met in the commons of the villages. Yet to you animals these assemblies must be new still!”
“You’ve got no idea!” laughed birds, squirrels, foxes, wolves, hedgehogs, deer, boar, hare, and other species in a nature chorus. “We have them all the time. And the few species that don’t have assemblies of the flock, have family assemblies at least.”
“O.k.,” said Barron. “But you don’t have bureaucracy. Henri Uber speaking from North America has a few words for you on that.”
“Yes, after thinking about it for a long time, I have come to the conclusion that the revs may have had one good point. They abolished bureaucracies, state – from the president’s office down to the mayor of the smallest village –, as well as corporate – from the Executive Committee down to the lowest accounting team. In fact, these days they have decided to even rotate their accountants. I wouldn’t go as far as that. Yet the idea to have no more bureaucracies and decide issues in assemblies is a good one, you animals have it as well. And we want to pursue development in this direction. We don’t need the state and we don’t necessarily need big firms and banks, although in some cases they might be useful, to effectuate global economies of scale. Sorry, you animals, if I use some big words, it is very hot here in deconstructing Toronto!”
Most of the animals laughed. “We can guess at all your big words. They mean nothing,” a clever young wolf said. “Get to the point. What is it that you want from us? Because you want something. Otherwise, you would not have asked us here to this remote forest, but just met with us in your village assemblies like the revolutionaries and discussed things with us until there was a consensus.”
“You are right. We have a proposal to make to you,” Barron continued playing the moderator, yet he was much more authoritarian than any revolutionary moderator would have been, and he also did not seem quite ready to yield his place to others. “In fact, seven of them. Ryan, Yannick, Pat, Iwan, Knut, Thorben, and Fritz. Please explain!”
We shall boost you with NPK fertilisers, GMO, MA virus, bio nanobots, and natural and if need be synthetic neuro-transmitters
The bag of tricks proposed by the fascos, by Maurice and Lulu
Ryan smiled a winning smile. “Yes, we are well aware that you are still afraid of revolutionaries running roughshod over you. Our proposals are not only standing offers, but they are also firm promises. First of all, you know that the revolutionaries want to restore the pristine state of nature before the rise of large-scale agriculture and industrialisation. Especially, they want to restore the native forests, the rainforest in South America, Africa, and South Asia, the mixed forest in North America, Europe, and Siberia, and the Taiga in Northern Siberia and boreal forest in the North of the Canadian lands. The revs hope that in the woods, under the canopy of the forest which will guard us against the elements and on much more fertile soil, our life together as humans, animals, and plants, assisted by robots will be much easier and more harmonious. We think that is a pipe-dream, Thorben and Fritz will speak to that later. Yet let us take their arguments apart step by step.”
“Ho, ho!” scoffed the animals and the trees, bushes, flowers, grasses, mosses and ferns and other plants who had formed friendships with the local revolutionaries already. “That is rich coming from those who brought about the whole pollution, even ecocide that we harpists are trying to fix. Now you are trying to take our hope away.”
“Well, the revs have found you capable of accomplishing this giant task yourselves by willing yourselves, using small green beams, to extricate your roots and march up to 100 metres a day, 150 metres if given exceptional conditions, 3-4 kilometres a month, and up to 50 kilometre a year until you reach an agreeable place to strike permanent roots again. Of course, they tell you, there can be pauses along the way, and not all trees need to march the full 2000-3000 km required to fully regrow the original habitats, turn the Sahara, let us say, into Savannah again, or the Pampa into Chaco, or regrow the French mixed forest. Still it is a major eco-challenge, wouldn’t you say? However, what we propose to you is to give you strength along the way, by a variety of scientific methods such as NPK fertilisers, GMO, bio-nanobots, MA viruses, and neural transmitters, natural and or synthetic, to boost you or help you rest as the case may be.”
“We get sick from these,” moaned the smaller trees, bushes, flowers, and grasses.
“How will the MA virus make us go faster?” ached the bigger trees. “It makes your leaves wilt, saps your resin, and burns your roots.”
“We don’t want to eat the residues of your toxins,” added the boar.
“You just weened us from all this stuff and sileage because you decided it was toxic, and now you want to start it all over again with the march of the trees?” laughed the domesticated animals – cows, sheep, goats, chicken etc. –, and farm plants – grains, vegetables, and fruit –, not seen in Che and Georgette’s picture because it pictures only one side of the villa, where most of the action took place.
Fasco assembly with domesticated and some wild animals, by Che and Georgette
“Anyway,” barked the dogs, trying to fend off fox and wolf, who were trying to squeeze through the fence, at the same time they were debating with the fascos. “It wasn’t your idea, it was our idea, that of the revolutionary animals – humans are also animals, by the way –, and plants. Why don’t you leave the implementation to us?”
“I bet,” a particular startling red and yellow tiger cat miaowed. By now the bio-wifi towers, reinforced by the bio-thicket had produced a bio-video of the fasco assembly as well, be it difficult to follow, since it was taken from different perspectives, at times the animals ran away before they finished it, and the plants broke down. “I bet you want to do all of that to get your cursed money and crypto-currency into circulation again.”
“Let us tell you,” howled the wolf and screamed the fox. “We revolutionary forest animals have never needed money and never will. The forest will nourish us all… and give us everything else we need.” A small cow and other tame animals looked dubious.
We promise you processed food
“Don’t worry,” said Yannick trying to tap that doubt. “We have thought about that already. We promise you more, cleaner, and tastier food so you do not have to depend on day-long discussions with the revolutionaries and other harpists.”
“Oh, no,” said the wild birds and the chicken. “I bet you mean this sweet bread of yours and similar poison. It makes us sick. Our wings start to itch and we twitch.”
“Our ears and tails as well,” added a black squirrel eating a nut. “Our small hearts and stomachs start to drop. And admit it. It would be a shame if we squirrels died out. We almost look like miniature dinosaurs.”
“Ever wondered, you silly capitalists, oligarchs, and fascos, why none of the time-travelled dinosaurs came to this meeting,” a red squirrel asked. “Because they know very well that all your chemical industry won’t feed them. The chance of all harpists lies in the return of the forest and fertile grassland, not your polluting industries.”
We promise you dedicated gardeners and wild-life keepers
“It is very doubtful that the revolutionaries, even with our help, will manage to restore the rainforest, mixed forest, boreal forest and taiga, the savannah, pampa, prairie, grasslands and fertile steppe to a degree that will allow all 72 quadrillion living beings to live with a full stomach, enough water, and in peace,” explained Pat. “72 is an approximate value their revolutionary robot Robby 7 obtained when he multiplied the 9 billion species on earth by their 8 billion representatives on average. You graciously allowed us access to this number via bio-thicket. Let me continue by first saying something about bio-wifi and bio-thicket. I look at it as two sides of the same crypto-coin.”
“I can’t understand why people don’t like crypto, since it makes it so easy to understand things,” sighed Barron.
“Yes, you are right, pal. On the one side, there is bio-wifi where all plants from the trees down to the subterranean mushroom and water algae, all animals from the biggest dinosaur to the smallest insect, bacteria, or virus even transmit information of all imaginable kinds. On the other side is the bio-thicket which consists of the very same animals and plants from the largest to the smallest making sure that their information and that of their species and their other friends get through fast, as well as unread, unphased and unhacked. The revs have managed to convince you that they are your only friends, and in most cases, you take their side, letting their information pass fast and securely, and revealing and slowing down ours. That is a shame, because we are also your friends.”
“Ho, ho,” said many members of the species listening, from the birds to the squirrels, the deer, the wolves, and the foxes, down to small mice, and mosses, and back up via the flowers, grasses, bushes and up to the tree tops again in a nature chorus. “Usually you just shoot us, catch us in traps, cut us down, trim us until we become stifled in our growth, or trample on us. In the past, we have sometimes helped you, because we did not know why the revolutionaries were after you, but in most cases, their reasons became clear enough to us soon enough. More often than not, you were planning a new scheme to exploit them, the former human proletariat, and us animals and plants as well.”
“You are such great comrades,” Jean-Wadi bio-messaged the harpists via subliminal delta wave. “They should be honoured to even live on the same planet with you.”
Pat’s Wildlife Park and Refuge, by Guillaume and Renée
“Well, we admit we have sometimes harmed you in the past,” grovelled Pat .
“Sometimes?” the birds shrieked. “All the time!”
“Yet we, Iwan and I have two new ideas that may restore our relations. The first is an old one, but that will become even more important in the age of the tree marches. Think about it. The march of the trees, as needed from the ecological point of view as it may be, will create a lot of disruption. First, some trees will get tired along the way and will want to rest. Second, many species of animals and plants that get exposed by the march, may need a refuge. And a refuge, that is exactly what we want to offer you. You know that we reactionaries, as you call us, also crave our solid retreat. One of the main reasons we still use money and crypto that you citizens of the animal and plant kingdom don’t need and reject, maybe rightfully so, is so we can build villas like the one behind us, up a mountain, deep in the forest, yet equipped with all the comforts we and our families need to lead a good life. Do you really blame us for that? Many animal families also have their refuges, on a tree, below its roots, in a grotto, in an earth mound. And many plants hide below others or climb up them.”
“Yeah, but we animals build them ourselves and don’t exploit others to serve us, although some of us are very small and fragile!” objected the ants.
“Yes, but we protect the larger plants and canalise nutrients to them,” the moss, fern, and ivy took the analogy cross as well. “We live in symbiosis with each other, whereas you just pull us up or murder us depending on the species.”
“If you keep interrupting, you are not going to understand the proposal I am about to make,” moaned Pat. “We shall protect you as well by protecting ourselves. And how? By turning certain areas around our residences into wildlife parks and refuges. We promise you dedicated gardeners and wildlife keepers that will make sure you are safe, well-nourished, and free at the same time.” There was a moment of silence while the animals and plants were trying to digest this information. Finally, a tiny hedgehog asked: “That means you won’t participate in your village assemblies?”
“And you?” Pat snapped back. “Not only do you live secluded lives, but you even have thorns to fend off anyone who may inadvertently intrude into your boroughs, isn’t that true?”
“Yes,” said the hedgehog. “But we are small and only have our bodies whereas you use barbed wire, traps, guns, and brown beams against us and even against your fellow humans.”
“There are bigger armed recluses than hedgehogs, for instance, porcupines, and dinosaurs are even bigger, and some of them have jagged bodies as well as sharp teeth. Yet listen, you may be grateful for our barbed wire fences, guns, and brown beams when the revolutionaries come and want to get you all enlisted into the march of the trees.”
“But we want to march,” a small fir tree moaned. “We want to make the world a better place for all, don’t we?”
“Indeed,” said the hedgehog, “and we don’t sting to hurt, let alone kill, only to irritate nasties who want to harm and imprison us.”
We promise to return extinct species, if need be via genetic manipulation
“Yes, we counter-revolutionary humans are the same. We love our peace and quiet, and that brings us to the second new way we want to help you,” said Iwan. “You all know that many species, both animals and plants have regretfully been much decimated and some even extinct by capitalism, no use denying that. Yet we want to mend that mistake, as best we can, since we are no longer in power. So, we promise you to keep near extinct species in our nature and wildlife parks until you manage to multiply again. Moreover, if you don’t succeed, we promise our dedicated vets will regrow you from DNA.”
“You mean you want to make us GMO? No, thank you,” said the minks. “Even though we are rare.”
“We might agree,” spoke the eels from the near-by river. “If you promise no longer to eat us.”
“We might as well,” said some of the wolves and deer. “But you must promise no longer to hunt us. We want to roam free.”
“I think we should disagree,” said the wild rabbits. “Before the revolution, your lot, the rich, capitalist humans, promised so many times to protect us, and yet our numbers kept going down. Since the revolution, things have already gotten better for us again, because the revolutionaries have renounced all arms, all guns, and their red beams are only stun beams, they don’t kill. There are a few more of us already, and if the march of the trees succeeds, there will be forest everywhere, many more places to hide and make love, and we won’t need your genetic manipulation anymore.”
“We don’t want to stand still to be trimmed, cut and mowed down in your parks and gardens,” agreed the trees, bushes, flowers, and grasses. “If your track record with respect to animal and plant rights is any indication, you will most likely use your wildlife parks only as an outer layer, also to build up your bio-thicket to protect your communication. Closer to your houses, you will torture us again as the kings and queens did since the middle ages. And once you have murdered us, we also don’t want you to regrow us from a petri dish. We want to grow wild.”
The revolutionary humans do not really want to give you full participation rights
“Actually, what makes you so sure that the humans really want you to organise the world with them, or even allow you to fully participate in their deliberations?” asked Knut.
“Good question,” said the fox and pondered it. “They invited us to their village assemblies, their schools, their workplaces – workshops, farms, policlinics, markets. They gave each of us a tune, so it would be easy for us to sign up as moderator and so on. There was a brigade of expert, from Illyria, near Aimeran, comrades Philippe, Pascal, Hisham, and Rim. They asked us all and everybody – tame animals and wild ones, farm plants, house plants, and wild plants –, what we needed every day, and we said, not just space, but water and food as well. You guys never asked us that, you see? Instead you want to go on about the war of all against all.”
You’ll need help by the fasco humans against other animal and plant species as well
“But we are right. Don’t be fooled by their scientific pretence. Another thing that may happen, they may favour other species of animals and plants over yours. Yet even in that case, rest assured,” bragged Thorben, “Our nature and wildlife parks will remain at your disposal. And they will be habitats, like the mixed forest they want to regrow. So they will have enough water and food for everyone strong enough.”
“What does it mean strong enough?” the fox asked, certainly not only in his own interest. “What about the small and tamer animals? Aren’t you all about money? When there are enough of us, you shall cut us down, mow us, trim us, hunt us, slaughter us again and sell us for money or crypto. We animals and plants do not use money, we don’t understand it – currency, cards, interest, it’s all life on Pluto for us. But that’s your plan, isn’t it? Kill us and turn us into money again. Our wood, our sap, our beauty, our milk, our meat, our fur, whatever. Whereas the revolution wants to restore nature.”
“Well, that seems to be the plot alright,” Thorben nodded. “Yet is it realistic? Nature is not necessarily harmonious. On the contrary, in my humble view, you can indeed best describe it as dog eats dog, and war of all against all. Let us assume, you really manage to regrow the forest, with the help of the march of the trees, although I have my doubts there. I think it will take active replanting and other human actions as well. Let us say it will take 100, 200, 500 years, or maybe longer even. Don’t forget, your friends, the revolutionaries have other ambitious, yet unrealistic plans as well that might interfere with nature. O.k., they have managed to abolish the cars except small delivery vans and other functional vehicles. They have restored the roads to cobble stone or dirt roads. Thereby, they have improved air, water, and soil quality. Global temperatures have dropped by 1 or 2 percent already in the twenty years since the revolution. They have split up all large enterprises into workshops of 50 at most, and they have transferred all energy supply to the block energy works, consisting of a few solar panels, one small windmill, one water turbine, where there is water, and an incinerator for rubbish that is unrecyclable. There is still a central electricity grid, but it only helps in emergencies or to equilibrate short-term fluctuations in supply by the block energy works. And while there is still a water mains, more and more households get their water from a well, even in the agglo. All that is good for the environment, of course.
“On the other hand, the revs are still in the process of deconstructing-reconstructing ugly, unneeded, or outright ugly buildings. While most high rises above five floors have been reduced downward to either four or five floors, there are still some huge towers left. Even the rededication of office buildings after the abolition of bureaucracy has had its slow phases. While most houses these days are mostly out of bricks, stone, or wood, the revs have not managed to get rid of all the concrete. Nevertheless, once the march of the trees is really underway, the revs plan to pass from deconstruction-reconstruction to what they call deconstruction-dispersion.
Scheme of deconstruction-dispersion, by Maher and Karla
“That means, if you have, let us say, ten houses 7 floors high around a triangular square, you want to not only deconstruct all ten of them to 4 or five floors only. You also want to deconstruct every second house piece by piece and rebuild it, let us say, 20-30 kilometres at least from the agglo. And the neighbourhood assemblies, including the trees around the square, the birds and the squirrels in them, the dogs and the cats, even the shy foxes that can usually only be seen at nighttime, and the mice of course will decide what they want in between the houses, let’s say a small park with trees, vegetable plots, or even a sheep pasture.
“Of course, the tarmacked road has already been pulled up and replaced by a dirt road and the people transformed the park in the middle to begin with into a farm market. Yet now, there is a motion to move the farm market back into the next street, where the former Monoprix has been pulled down and replaced by a just a small share point with lawn all around it. Many people, animals, and plants think the farm market should now be on that lawn, and the lawn in the middle of the square transformed into a pasture for three to five cows maybe. Even the grass has voted yes.
“Yes, because it is nicer to be munched by cows than to be sawn off by a lawnmower,” explained the Vosges grasses concurring with their agglo brethren.
“In other words, there are many decisions to take, many meetings to hold.”
“What if the people in the dispersed houses as well as their pats and their potted plants do not even want to move out into the countryside?” asked a field mouse.
“Exactly,” Thorben nodded. “For many animals and plants, the deconstructing agglo is still a relatively protected space, fewer predators, such as foxes and wolves for the pet animals, cows, sheep, goats and even deer for the grasses, flowers, and bushes. And there is more food floating around already harvested. And that’s another reason for some humans refusing the move out to the countryside as well. They are afraid they will lose their job in a workshop and be forced to work on the farm as well.”
“Bullshit,” said the fox. “Even here in the Vosges, they have ample public transport.”
“And the wolves haven’t grown back in the Paris region yet,” growled one wolf.
“There are some though,” rumbled his partner. “Want to go there?”
Nature is a state of eternal war of all against all and they need human moderation
“And deep down you know that all their waffle about discussion, consensus, and eternal peace is just that, waffle, don’t you?” asked Fritz.
It was getting late, and it was already the owl that answered. “It may not be waffle, it may be just our impatience, of you reactionary humans especially, that is preventing the discussions to go on until a real, true and lasting consensus can be found, meaning beneficial to most and acceptable to all.”
Chapter 7. The Harpists Resist
Illyria in the post-anthropocene, by Che, Georgette, Salvador, and Soho
“We want to roam free!”
“In response to their Vosges conference, we revolutionaries organised harp conferences pretty much everywhere, in Illyria Garden Colony Manouche Camp as well as in Saint-Denis, in Novgornyi where Peter Gar, Carla, and Misha were still holidaying as well as participating in the investigations of the Beams and Bots workshop, and as far away as Timbuktu, Mali.
Harp assembly in Mali, by Malik and Mao
Because the African dinos Karchar, Afro, Megapno, Lurdu, Cetio, and Spino were busy at the moment fertilising other areas of the Sahel, special guests were wild dogs, lions, cheetahs, elephants, giraffes, camels, chimpanzees, hyenas, gazellas, red-headed finches, and an almost extinct species, the mouflon or barbary sheep.
In Novgornyi, callers were some animals native of the Baltics, golden eagle, stork, crane, seal, wild boar, and wisent, as well as of larger Russia, brown and polar bear, walrus, the almost extinct Siberian tiger and snow leopard, reindeer, snow owl, and white squirrel.
And in Illyria, guests of honour were twelve kinds of medium-sized or small French dinosaurs who either had time-travelled to the future already, or had come for this occasion.
Compsognathus, Struthiosaurus, Ampelosaurus, Arcovenator meet with Cows, Sheep, Chicken, and Worm
“They want to put us altogether into a wildlife park to protect us from democracy. How are they going to feed us?” Compsognathus asked into the round. “Where will they put us when there is a storm, rain, or snow? Most likely, we will end up eating each other or competing for food plants until we decimate these just like the capitalist humans have decimated us, dinosaurs as well as contemporary animals and the plants, for a long time.”
“All I know is that I am not going to eat this chicken,” said Arcovenator, lovingly eyeing his vis-à-vis. “Much too cute!”
“I like that sheep, I want to leave something over for it,” noted Struthio.
“Cow and I ended up listening to the other dinosaurs and animals and did not overindulge. We did not even finish the snack of hay you had graciously provided, comrades Illyrians,” said Ampelosaurus.
“We want to grow wild!”
The plants, just like their fellows in the Vosges, did not want to be trimmed and cut down constantly as humans tend to do. “That is why we like you revolutionaries,” said a fir tree. “Because you said you want to restore the mixed and the boreal forests. You will allow us to grow.”
We want to discuss things with the revolutionaries instead of being ruled by you, fascists
“Think about it,” comrade Jean-Wadi addressed the conference from Mali. “What progress we have made since Year 9 when we first discovered the intranet. We have learnt nature-speak and nature language and programmed our robots and now harpoids with as many animal and plant sounds as we could.
“We have started to include our tame animals into the cooperative assemblies. We have learnt what bugs them, not only synthetic fertilisers and pesticides in their food, but also pre-revolutionary agricultural technology. Cattle prefers to be milked by humans or humanoid robot, in any events, beings they can talk to. They do not like to be just connected to a milking or feeding machine like a device to be emptied or recharged.
“I sounds like being on the life-support in hospikill,” interjected Peter Gar from Novgornyi. “I can imagine they wouldn’t like it.”
“They like to be on the pasture, but they like to have space. They are huge beasts after all, like small dinos some of them. Therefore, they need room in the stables as well. The mass stables before the revolution were like concentration camps for animals.”
“They had those because of the supermarkets. That way they could guarantee the same quality produce to many outlets, even supply their milk to several chains. Hardly any milk sold back then would survive a material check today. We have gone back to the happy days where milk is produced in a farm close to the village and delivered to the markets and share points dew fresh. And that applies to all other produce as well, except for the imports via economic circuit or revolutionary barter. Yet there as well we discuss with our partners how to keep goods as fresh as possible while maintaining our high ecological standards, in other words, no excessive energy consumption, no huge refrigerators, no processing before the final destination, and above all, no cruelty to our friends and fellow-harpists, the animals and plants…”
“And what applies to cows, applies to sheep and goats as well of course, and even more so to horses. They need space and good treatment to perform. You have horses, comrade Oleg. How do you keep your horses in Novgornyi, comrade Oleg?”
“Oh, they have a large stable to themselves with a large space to run around on, and separate booths upholstered with hay to sleep in. Horse-raising has always been a speciality of our region.”
“Then gradually,” Jean-Wadi continued. “We have expanded the reach of our harp assemblies beyond the farm. In the beginning, the wild animals and plants were very afraid of us.”
“Yes,” said the deer. “We thought you were going to hunt and shoot us.”
“We were afraid of your traps even,” added the squirrels. “So, when you said, come and discuss life in the forest and the march of the trees with us, we first believed in a trick.”
“But it wasn’t,” said an Illyrian cow. “And we farm animals are glad about that as well. It is much nicer to have your pasture close to the forest when there is wind or rain. You can seek refuge close to the trees. It may be good to have a fence of course, in case a fox or a wolf comes. These days, we have more foxes and wolves again. But it shouldn’t be electrical.”
“And the wolves and foxes, and even the meat-eating dinos, if they are not too many and too big, are good for us, because they prevent us from making too many babies and multiplying until we stumble all over each other,” a rabbit said. “Which otherwise we would, unfortunately. We are like humans that way.”
“What could be the revolutionary purpose of a small rabbit?”
“To keep the underbrush clear!” one rabbit ventured.
“But don’t you want lots of bushes?” a finch said. “The other day you said you needed lots of bushes for your Bio-Thicket anti-hack protection.”
“And that is still true,” said Odile. “But at the moment, we are looking for revolutionary purposes for a decent amount of baby rabbits.”
“Intranet and bio-wifi transmitters.”
“Excess lettuce eaters.”
“Keepers of the fences against wild animals, especially predators and carnivorous dinos.”
Everybody clapped, including the predators and the meat-eating dinos. “We need the discussion, most of all. The feeling of sitting close to each other, listening to each other, and not hurting each other. That’s better than a million parks,” an owl had the last word again as in the Vosges, this one a snow owl, who spoke intranet from Siberia via Novgornyi. “Even the Nenets and Yakuts have to learn it again although they are a lot closer to nature than you Europeans. We want to discuss things with you revolutionaries, rather than be ruled by fascos.”
Chapter 8. Court at the Harp Assembly
Arrest of the Octogon, by Maksim and Zhenya
Caught
“Shit!” bio-whispered Ryan as they approached their old workshop ‘Beams and Bolts.’ “I think I can see a light, I think there is somebody in there.”
“Can’t be too many of them,” said Pat. “There is just one light and it is small.”
“It has got to be spontaneous militia,” said Knut. “We must tackle them with brown beams,” and pulled out his old smartphone for the extra lethal boost.
“Why don’t we talk to them first?” suggested Yannick. “And use the brown beams only if they get really cheeky.”
“And have the orange beams ready in case we have to vamoose!” Iwan added chirpily.
In the meantime, Thorben and Fritz had crawled closer to the building, Indian style, then lifted themselves up for a moment to take a peek through the window.
“I can’t believe it!” Thorben bio-messaged the others. “It is the same two fellows who were here earlier. Oh, yeah, the three others as well, one girl among them, who were with them, when we met them first. Didn’t we see them in Mali as well? They are now following us around, or what?”
“Let me tackle them first!” said Barron. “They don’t know me yet,” and strutted into the house.
“Oh, hello!” they heard him say. “Is this a militia investigation, but why? I thought this was just a harmless intranet and robot workshop.” Now Iwan and Fritz had followed him and positioned themselves next to him.
“We are just revolutionary barter correspondents from the ex-U.S. as you can tell,” Barron continued. “We wondered whether there are new revolutionary inventions on offer here.”
“Not really,” said Maksim, pretending he did not know them although he had of course recognised them immediately from the warrant photos as the three new members that had turned the Pentagon into an Octogon. “The orange beams are not as good as our revolutionary yellow beams, and these bio-nanobots to boost or alternatively slow down the intranet are dodgy as well. It seems that they serve to hack devices as well as brain-apps. We are picking up samples for a thorough material check at the Adalbertina, pardon Kaliningrad U,” he pretended to be a bit religious in case the counter-revolutionaries wanted to flirt with him, “but they seem to make people and animals sick and plants dry, so we better stick with bio-wifi and bio-thicket for all common needs.”
“Who are the other owners, eh, the workers of this workshop?” asked Barron. “Maybe they could recalibrate the beams and recharge the nanobots for better results? I talked to these fellows,” as he felt Yannick and the others enter through the door behind him. “And they said they still had some research to do.”
“Well, you would not believe it,” said Misha, appearing from the back room, “but they were last seen in Mali.”
“And now they are back in town!” added Jean-Saïd who had come in after him followed by Yurii, Danya, and Vitya. The fascos had only one more (wo)man than they. “Maksim, you and I target two of them, the rest one each!” And the seven of them threw red stun beams all at the same time, even Zhenya. All nine red beams hit their target, and all eight Octogon members dropped unconscious. Several of them tried brown beam before their fall. Yet only Barron had time to actually throw one, which he even reinforced with his phone so as to become potentially lethal. He targeted Jean-Saïd, whom he knew to be one of the cheeky Illyrians, but the young comrade managed to jumped aside at the last minute. Yet the brown beam was strong enough to reduce to shards several cases of syringes on the shelf behind where he had stood.
“That was close!” said Maksim. And he and the others hugged and kissed Jean-Saïd, as soon as they had put the handcuffs on the eight unconscious Octogon members. By that time, Pierre le Gars, Carla, Evgeni, Tanya, and a few additional spontaneous militiamen had arrived and hugged the near-victim as well. The eight crims were put on a transporter, to be tried at a joined village assembly of Noah’s village in Mali, Illyria, and Timbuktu later in the week.
Agreeing on procedure
“Yannick, Pat, Ryan, Knut, Thorben, Iwan, Fritz, and Barron, are you ready to admit that you tried to use lethal brown beams on your fellow humans at least twice in the last few days, once here in Mali and once in the other place up North whose name I can’t pronounce,” roared a lion who had already taken charge of moderation at Noah’s village.
“Wait a minute. I think we need at least two human, two animal, and two plant harp assessors at each venue, Mali, Novgornyi, and Illyria,” said comrade Frédéric, who was moderating in Illyria. “They will make sure that the court remains organised and that the rights of the accused are respected. Any volunteers?” The six harp assessors sat down in front at each venue and a Novgornyi goat already wanted to give the word to Carla who had held her hand up for the last twenty minutes to be recognised as the first speaker for the victims.
“Wait a minute for some last bits of advice!” said comrade Jean. “Everybody else over age 12 for humans and various ages as decided by your individual species can be jurors. And remember, there is no written law and no case law either. That means you do not have to look up how other village or harp assemblies have judged a certain case, because every case is different. Best practice is only for material checks. You can reinvent the whole law afresh every time court is being held. Like in the case of hierarchy checks if you will. And we can be even more inventive since this is the biggest hack we have ever had at Illyria, except maybe for the hack of the autocorrect planning programme in Year 1. And if you want to speak or be assessor, do like I did, just raise your hand. Now, over to you, Carla, and please, you and everybody think about the fundamental question we must ask, was the hack of our minutes a crime, or was it just a prank?”
Carla’s plea
“Comrades, I think we have been victims of a crime,” said Carla, still tired after the long train ride from Novgornyi. Pierre le Gars, Misha, her and the other Illyrian Novgornyi brigade members had decided to take the same train in which the Octogon had been hauled back to Illyria, for extra security, and so as not to overuse the beam method, as its health and environmental effects still needed to be explored. “Why is it a crime? In the revolution, all communication is free, as well as data storage in devices, in the bio-cloud, and in our brains of course. Everybody has the right to copy all the data they want and even to keep available data in a modified form. Specifically, it is also o.k. to parody. Yet the Hacking Pentagon did more than parody our data. Satire would only be a manifestation of free speech, not a crime. The counter-revolutionaries have media channels such as European Empire, Le Figaro, and Smartbox where they could have distributed such remakes, even if in our opinion they are junk. However, they went much further than that. They altered our original data and even made it difficult for us to restore and secure them. The travesties they engineered are popping up until this day as if in an eternal loop. Our intranet and robot specialists were able to determine that the method they used was infesting our computers, robots, and plushbots with what they themselves call by the innocuous-sounding name of bio-nanobots. These bio-nanobots carry minuscule electrical charges that help them reproduce the hacks ad infinitum. I think we are right to consider them bio-weapons since they are also able to enter or brains and cell nuclei and can alter our memories and possibly our thoughts and actions as well. The village and harp assemblies of Aimeran and the cooperative assembly of Illyria, as well as the neighbourhood assemblies of the garden colony and of the Manouche camp have in the past judged similar devices and viruses to be weapons. This is why we have brought a criminal charge against the Hacking Pentagon, now the Hacking Octogon.”
Various categories of crimes: murders versus tricks, such as hacks
“We should grill them like a roast of beef. I demand the death penalty!” said a brown cow and looked sad and frightened when everybody laughed.
“I propose we don’t kill them just yet,” said Peter Gar, “but give them a chance to rehabilitate.”
“A cheeky calf would be slaughtered for a prank like that,” a black-and-white cow assisted her sister.
“And what did they do here in Mali?” asked a camel. “Oh, they sent plenty of toxic mails to our workshops and social organisations,” croaked Noah, also from home in Illyria, still weak from his ordeal. “And they helped with planning our abduction.”
“But did they make any attempts to realise that design?” asked Jean acting as harp assessor. “No, because they were actually unable to. So, for the Hacking Pentagon and Octogon, the death penalty definitely seems too harsh a penalty. Is everybody in agreement with that?” Gradually, still a bit doubtful, animals raised heads, paws, feet, or tails as a sign of consent, plants swayed, shook their branches, or opened their blossoms, and humans nodded, raised, or waved their hands.
Life-long house arrest versus prison
“Well, d’accord, but where the choice is between life-long house arrest and prison, I would say, prison!” said the snow tiger. “After all, they have locked us up for so many years I zoos and wanted to do the same to you.” Many animals and plants screamed approvingly, others nodded their heads, blossoms, or crowns.
“They also shot at comrade Jean-Saïd,” noted comrade Zhenya from Novgornyi.
“True, they are not choir boys. We want to put them away safely, yet prevent martyrdom. They can spend a number of years in house arrest, let us say at least until they show credible remorse for their crimes and even some of their mean ideas only. Yet the ultimate goal is rehabilitation,” clarified Jean.
“Imagine they are all Zionists,” added young comrade Faroukh, already thinking of his presentation on the Intifada. “We want to prevent them from coming back to ruin things again and again. Therefore, they will need to change and become good, so that nothing remains of their evilness.”
Rehabilitation
“Comrade Faroukh has a point. As prison workers, but also as every revolutionary who has contact with these former reactionaries, we must resist the temptation to pity them as victims of capitalism,” explained Jean. “That won’t work. They love capitalism. They love government, bureaucracy, big firms, any form of hierarchy, even military, that’s why they tend to be warmongers, welcome military buildups and war, even civil wars among humans, and also tend to lock up and slaughter animals, and to cut down plants. So, our pitying them won’t get them out of their delusion.”
“We must, on the contrary, tell them very clearly about the faults of capitalism,” continued Carla acting as agent of the prosecution, “the fact that it exploited everybody, man, woman, child, animal, and plant, except for a few lucky ten thousand at the top, the fact that it used money as a way to play people out against one another. In fact, capitalists to this day pretend that the people with the most money work the most, not the workers who work in mines, factories, and workshops, conduct trains, drive public transport vehicles and delivery vans, not those who work on the farms, in the schools, policlinics, on the markets, and in the share points that supply us, teach us, and help us.
“We must also disabuse them of the notion that indirect democracy can be legitimate. It cannot and never will be. It only makes the laws that benefit the rich capitalists and bankers. The only forums or venues that are legitimate and useful are neighbourhood assemblies, with no more than seven households in each one, and with the chair(wo)manship rotating at every meeting, brigades with seven individual members maximum, with the fore(wo)men or brigadier rotating once a day at least, the workplace assembly with nowadays 50 workers maximum, working in brigades of seven maximum, ever-changing councils of foremen if even needed, accounting and management brigades with rotating members if even needed, and a full workplace plenary once every quarter at least, with the moderating teams changing at least every half hour as explained in ‘Anarchy and other urgent tasks’, and finally, the village assembly, nowadays with 200 residents at most, with a village assembly once a quarter at least, and the moderating team also rotating once every half an hour at least. And mixed brigades, mixed student-teacher-lecturer-professor brigades in schools and universities, doctor-nurse-support staff brigades in policlinics, mixed gender brigades, mixed ethnic-religious-national brigades – for instance, black-white-Asian-Hispanic in the ex-U.S., Palestinian-Jewish in Palestine, Russian-Ukrainian in the Donbass, etc. –, wherever there has been conflict in the past or where one is brewing at present, all with their fore(wo)men rotating. And of course mixed harp – human, animal, robot, plant brigades. In these venues, everybody participates all the time, from the toddler to the octogenarian. The rehabilitating fascos can in no way claim that this method is undemocratic. They will immediately learn like the rest of us that once a hierarchy emerges anywhere, injustices will begin to happen. In Berlin, before the revolution, probably in Paris as well, we had hierarchies even in the shelters for the refugees and the homeless. They were not about helping people, but about administering the lack of space, hygiene, food, clothes, privacy, etc. in these homes, and about keeping people waiting for the bare essentials. These hierarchies did not prevent conflict or even violence. On the contrary, they even wound people up against each other. We must overcome class society and the ethnic, religious, gender and animal and plant discrimination that goes along with it, and we can only achieve this with our permanent revolution. In a way, the Hacking Pentagon or Octogon did us a service. They revealed who our gurus or holy cows are, and how we can hold on to our revolutionary principles even if their heads get switched. So, let them ache over their tricks and crimes in house arrest.”
Chapter 9. Minutes of Minutes
“Bunny, you have been hacked again!”, by Zamir and Odile
“Bunny, you have been hacked again!” Pierre le Gars shouted in disgust. “But this time it is not your minutes, but your novel: Liaisons révolutionnaires.”
“Oh, yes, about the love life of all the Illyrians?”
“I did not know you wanted to turn it into a bio-radio show and T.V. serial as well.”
“Well, yes,” said comrade Carla. “Comrade Patrick asked me the other day, and I have started to work on it. There is a bio-audio already. That gets generated naturally when the text is transferred via bio-wifi. Yes, and the bio-T.V. will be a bit of a trick film. Yet so far all of us have had their own heads on. But you say that is no longer the case?”
“Well, in the segment I watched, you have an affair with comrade Jean, our son Misha drops comrade Yvonne and marries comrade Cato. And young comrade Jean-Michel – who is now five, the episode plays when he is 16-17 already –, quits running after comrades Ramón and Bouna and gets serious with comrade Isabelle.”
“Well, that makes sense,” said Carla. “Cato was Misha’s girl-friend after all before she, eh, he got operated. And comrade Jean-Michel, well, he has the right to look out for himself, doesn’t he?”
“And then your post-anthropocene novel goes down the list of all our Illyrian extra-partnership relationships, including…”
“Better to call them free love,” smiled Carla.
“Yes, starting with Jean, with him they are all free love – Mina, Hélène, Véro, Claudia, Inès, Rashida. And then I come on stage with Gemma, you, Quan, Nino, or rather Lilo, but how did you know that she became trans as well, I did not tell that to anyone, did I?”
“Yes, but Lilo told it to comrade Cato, when she, pardon he, Nino was here…”
“And comrade Égale, and there again, how did you know that Égale complained I was not spending enough time with the kids? And I said, better than to be called a paedophile, and she shouldn’t forget, I have four kids already, Vicky, Misha, Tanya, and Mao, five grandchildren, Nora, Maksim, Odile, Jean-Michel, and Aisha, and two great-grandchildren, young Vitya, son of Nora, and Tanya’s son Misha, or maybe three, because Maksim, Danya, and Zhenya are technically a triangle – Tanya explained it to us the other night, remember –, so we could be Little Olya’s great-grandparents as well, couldn’t we?”
“Your discussion with Égale I gathered from the nature chorus. After all, I had to know why you had fought, and whether she might stay in Sudan.”
“No, she won’t, because she is one of the co-authors in comrade Arlette’s project on women in the revolution, so she is coming to Illyria, so will Tanya, by the way, comrade Arlette has asked her as well.”
Carla stayed silent for a moment and just looked Peter Gar in the eyes. “And now you are angry at me for blabbing some of our secrets. Yet notice, the book discusses all the other comrades’ secrets as well, Robespierre’s quadrangle with Pascal, Sophie and Émilia, Philippe’s affair with Camille with young comrade Zélim-Philippe being the proud offspring, comrade Youssef’s triangle with Jana and Salma, with the question remaining open whether he has ever been in bed with Mina, comrade Jérôme’s affair with comrade Michel, comrade Ronggang’s with Quan, comrade Patrick’s with Francine, with comrade Natalie as a proud product, comrade Marianne’s with Aslan with comrade Olivier as the lucky offspring, Boris’ affair with Rodion, angering comrade Saïd, Seth’s with Noah, just for fun, Danton’s with Martine, who is at the same time loyal partner to comrade Léon. Whom did I forget? The triangle of comrades Bashir, Jean-Saïd, and Zelim-Philippe, or maybe quadrangle, if you include comrade Olivier, whom else? It will occur to us later. I am still working on it. And I want it to be a bestseller and, God willing, a blockbuster.”
“Not if the Hacking Octogon can help it. They turned all the heads around again. Comrade Pierre Blanchard, ex-partner of Arlette, now partner of Marine, has had Mina, Hélène, and the other comrades as well. Jean is the new wallflower, having just had you and comrades Mélanie and Murielle…”
“Because of the prison worker project, of course,” said Carla. “That was in my original already. And me because of the minutes. And in Novgornyi we have the loving triangle of Maksim, Zhenya, and Danya, but there was a down-period as well, where Maksim was so love-sick and jealous he went to bed with his dog.”
“Well, maybe this hack isn’t so bad,” said comrade Jean, who was just entering with a bunch of papers in his hands. “Your novel will prove to people that we practice the free harp love that we preach and that it works. So what, if they turn your novel around a little bit, thus providing everyone with a few more lovers? The manier the merrier, isn’t that an English saying?”
“Oh, yes,” said Peter Gar, grinning at Jean. “Yet I happen to be an Irishman. And by the way, the book will also lift the veil on your LBGTI secrets, comrades Denis, Patrick, Frédéric, even comrade Alain, although you were a bit at loggerheads with him before the revolution, all your PCF buddies except maybe comrade Pierre.”
“Oh,” said Jean. “I am not so easy to nail down, I love comrade Pierre as well…”
“Well,” said Carla, “and you love comrade Noah in the ‘Liaisons révolutionnaires’ as well. The project will continue despite all the fasco hacking. And I’ll end up doing everybody justice. Yet you were saying, comrade Misha,” and she turned to her son who was just entering. “There is an easier way to prevent the hacks, isn’t there?”
“We should get the robots to do it!” answered Misha.
“Exactly! I have come up with a short form of the revolutionary manifesto,” comrade Carla announced, talking fast and feverishly, as she knew this was the last session of her presentation, “which is very difficult to hack, because it contains only very few words, an Orwellian eight-four as a matter of fact:
1)free food,
2)free housing,
3) all other goods free as well, some luxuries via sharing and barter (trefoil principle),
4)free education,
5) right to work,
6) free healthcare,
7)renewable energy from block-energy-words,
8)recycling of everything that possibly can be,
9) pure air, water, and soil,
10)low-frequency intranet and bio-wifi,
11)deconstruction-reconstruction-dispersion of all agglos,
12)march of the trees to regrow natural habitats,
13) no weapons, no violence,
14) principle of permanent revolution: all differences of opinion resolved and all decisions taken in revolutionary harp assemblies.
If they were to hack it, it would be very easy to restore, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, comrade Carla,” said Josip, speaking from Mali, “merci for that elegant simplicity. That way, we’ll also be able to programme this manifesto into our robots and plushbots so that they can do the basic consistency check themselves. You won’t have to sit in front of the computer all day and all night. You will only check the robot and maybe look for some sophisticated alterations it might have missed. Rosa and I will programme this while the others are holding their siesta.
Future of the Hacking Octogon, known as the Sons, by Marius and Jean-Luc
“There are three more ways to protect our communications actually,” said Robespierre, speaking intraline. “Sorry, comrades Josip and Carla, this is extremely important for all of us, it has to do with the papers comrade Jean has for you, comrade Carla, to add to the minutes urgently.
“It turns out that the Hacking Octogon members did not stand their house arrest. None of them can be found at the places where they are supposed to be. Yannick is not in his student dorm in Le Havre, Ryan is not at his father’s, Pat not at his uncle’s, Barron not at his father’s either, although he has been seen in the agglo of New York, while the four Boches, Knut Reiche, Thorben Kriegsbeil, Fritz April, and Iwan Pistazius never even showed up at their parental villages, but have fled immediately to South America, Africa, Russia, or even the French lands. We basically don’t know where any of the eight of them are at the moment.
“Task number one is to find them and to put them before the alternative, you either accept rehabilitation, which entails to stay in one place, participate in our joyous future where we converse with animals and plants as well as with humans or robots, live in the forest and even in tree houses, eat clean food, breathe clean air, drink clean water, have no master above us and decide everything in assembly. Or you join up again with the other bastards, Fritz Schneid, Thomas Rutte, and Ronald Gunpump, the Uberytes, and so on. That may entail descending into criminality and ending up being killed by your own nasty pals.
“Whatever their choice may be, given that they are still at large, we want to remind everyone how to ensure a functioning Chinese Wall Security Suite, wide-awoke Illyrian Digital Hounds, and a stable Bio-Thicket.
“So, what the robot brigade proposes,” comrade Jean-Saïd took over from his father. “Is that at every critical transmission and even at regular intervals, if nothing extraordinary is happening, you should summon the help of plants – trees, bushes, flowers, grasses, mosses, ferns, algae, and what have you – , and of animals – from the largest dino to the smallest fly –, and beg them not to reveal us, the revolutionaries, but on the contrary tell us where the remainders of the class enemy are hiding these days and what they are saying. Usually, this works quite well already. We knew about the Hacking Octogon’s escape from house arrest through bio-wifi before we even heard about it from humans. This has to do with the fact as well that the militia is spontaneous these days, but also with the fact that bio-wifi is transmitting the chatter of all 72 quadrillion living beings, not only of the humans.
“And apart from calling animals and plants, and harpoids for that matter for their help, you should also use your revolutionary brain apps, in particular, the basic nine, which are hierarchyleaks, material check, trefoil check – on whether free allocation and distribution, simple sharing, and revolutionary barter working smoothly everywhere in this world –, housing check, cryptoleaks, survey, referendum, village forum app, this serves for preparing village and other harp assemblies, and also to achieve the quorums for spontaneous militia deployments, so have it on always. Have I forgotten one? It will occur to us later. Oh, yes, of course. The Chinese Wall Security Suite plus Illyrian Digital Hounds plus Bio-Thicket. You must think about it this way. They call us the revolutionaries. But we actually are the revolution, every one of us harpists is – human, animal, robot, plant. There are no more leaders, no more bureaucracy, and you must be aware that without you, the revolution won’t be able to proceed, let alone triumph.”
“I expressed myself badly earlier on,” admitted Jean. “I should not have said, ‘New rules!’, but ‘You, comrades, are the rule!’ Not, ‘Please check!’, but ‘You, comrades, are the check!’ Only what passes muster in your brain and in your action can serve us in the future. Hasta la Victoria siempre, comrades.”
Postscript in Illyria and Saint-Denis. The Housing Question, Food for everybody – food for all, and more thoughts on anarchy and Communism
The Housing Question in 2021, by Faroukh and Sarah
“Free housing, enough free food for everyone, all other basic goods free as well, maybe sharing and barter of some luxury goods, free education, right to work, free healthcare, free public transport, free renewable energy, unlimited internet – now intranet for all, no or only minimal pollution, ecological deconstruction-reconstruction, those were the first material promises of our world revolution of 2021, Year Zero,” explained Jean, who had taken over the moderation. “So, since we are starting with a new stage of the revolution, Communist anarchy, we should do a stock-taking of how far we have gotten with these goals. To do justice to the importance of the housing topic that preoccupied Marx and Engels already, we shall deal with it in three volumes. In volume 1, I will tell the story of how we ensured the right to free housing and home ownership for all right after the revolution, and how we disbanded all orphanages, refugee homes, homeless shelters, and nursing homes, finishing once and for all with the terrible conditions humans had to suffer in these and similar installations. Then comrade Raphaël will tell about his homelessness before, and to our shame let it be said, even after the revolution.”
“But that was because I let myself be enslaved by some fasco, druggie gangsters,” explained Raphaël good-naturedly.
“Never mind, we should have prevented you from falling into that trap again. Finally, comrade Abram will tell us what to do if a house or apartment despite all our efforts becomes inappropriate, either too small or too big, or too ugly, or so polluted it needs deconstruction-reconstruction. The solution is a housing swap. In some cases, it has to be multi-stage and sequential, especially if you want to move between regions. There is a special case from the Baltics where fascos have used housing swaps to relaunch a real estate market. Comrades Tanya, Evgenia, Maksim and the other Novgornyi Recycling Hounds have told us about it in Year 18 already. We can come back to that and find whether there have been any more cases like that if there is time. Then comrade Sarah will take over with ‘Food for everybody, food for all’.”
“Yes,” Sarah rejoiced. “And from then on no more bickering about food, as if you could help the revolution by being mean. Of course, the trefoil is a time-tested method to make sure everybody gets food for free, in sufficient quantity and quality, for the whole household, and for any socially necessary labour, as long as you do it for 15 hours or equivalent a week with ample time left for creative or socially attractive work on top of that. Yet there are products and regions for which this promise is still difficult to fulfil. Together, in the harp assemblies, we shall manage to address all the remaining issues.”
“Intifada – is the Palestinian resistance against Zionism and fight for our homeland, Antifada – is the struggle against anti-Semitism without leaving the problem of Zionism out of sight, and Revolution – well that, that is our great accomplishment in 2021 which we have been able to defend so far!” Faroukh would have launched into his presentation immediately had not Laurence prevented him.
“Another almost but not entirely fulfilled promise of the revolution of 2021 has been peace. The fascos are planning a new scamdemic and want to force everybody to wear masks and even oxygen tanks again. This is warfare against the people which has nothing to do with health,” Laurence introduced her topic. “It is also a case of how the fascos even in the absence of nations try to unleash war and chaos.”
“Do you want to jump in at that point, comrade Noah, for Green Timbuktu, the third part of the African Trilogy?” Jean asked. Noah shook his head emphatically: “Unfortunately, we, that means Illyria’s old and new Mali brigades won’t be ready yet.”
“Neither will the trees,” his son Malik added apologetically.
“In that case, we shall wait and let our young pioneers and affiliates, Marius, ‘Les Jours Heureux. Wonder-Cattle’, Jean-Luc, ‘Revolutionary Accounting’ , Zamir, ‘The Metalmongers’ , and Odile, ‘The Kindergarden Manifesto. Second Edition’ go ahead,” concluded Jean. “For now, let’s be happy that we have found a way to overcome the challenge to revolutionary intranet security and are looking forward to reading, listening to, watching, and discussing Carla’s unhacked minutes on the housing question in the near future.”
The debates and adventures of the comrades in Illyria Garden Colony Manouche Camp, at the neighbourhood assemblies Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove in Saint-Denis and world-wide shall continue in Life in Communism 2.1. The Housing Question, vol. 1 A Place for Everybody, vol. 2 At Home in the Revolution, and vol. 3 The Housing Swap, Food for Everybody – Food for All, Intifada – Antifada – Revolution, In the Name of the Peace Dove? Gasping for Air, Revolutionary Accounting, Les Jours Heureux. Wonder-Cattle, The Metalmongers, The Kindergarden Manifesto. Second Edition, and African Trilogy vol. 3 Green Timbuktu.
Map of Illyria and Aimeran at the time of comrade Carla’s presentation “Life in Communism 2.1. Minutes”, during summer-early fall of Year 20 of the Revolution, by Marius and Jean-Luc
Maps and Plans of our rural cooperative Illyria, Yvelines, and our neighbourhood assemblies Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove on 76 rue de Lorraine, Saint-Denis, state summer of Year 20 of the Revolution during comrade Carla’s presentation “Life in Communism 2.1. Minutes”, there are 17 three-room apartments with the bedrooms occupied as follows, 3rd generation Young Revolutionaries marked in italics, 4th generation Young Revolutionaries in bold:
Apartments in the old Farmhouse
Apartments above the Robot Workshop
,,,
Apartments above the Stables
Apartments above the Furniture and Clothes Workshops
Dark blue: furniture workshop, light blue: clothes workshop
Inhabitants of the Garden Colony and the Manouche Camp
Neighbourhood Assemblies Casa Latina Russki Dom Peace Dove at 76 rue de Lorraine, Saint-Denis
Yellow: first floor, youth club; Green: second floor; Red: third floor; Blue: fourth floor, and violet: fifth floor. 2nd and 3rd floors: Casa Latina Russki Dom, 4th and 5th floor: Peace Dove.
Other books by Carla O’Gallchobhair you will enjoy:
ORGANIC GROWTH
DANGERS OF NAVAL SWABS
WHAT ARE FLYING SAUCERS MADE OFF
MCP AND OTHER ALERTS: ONLY YOUR HOMEGROWN FOOD IS SAFE
https://www.bitchute.com/video/g5zDhnNkUX2E
12 REASONS VACCINES ARE DANGEROUS
TOXIC COATING ON YOUR VEGETABLES
PETER GAR SAYS POTENTIALLY HARMFUL VACCINES FOR COWS, PIGS, SHEEP AND OTHER CATTLE
UNWANTED EFFECTS OF SYNTHETIC PESTICIDES
https://www.livescience.com/10957-pesticide-turns-male-frogs-females.html
VACCINATED? AGAINST WHAT?
“Cricket Flour: yummy!“
Capitalists must be wondering: How can we dupe people into thinking that mass farming of crickets is somehow more ecological and morally acceptable than cow abuse?
Dandelions are good for your heart but Big Pharma and Big Agrochemical Industry are the same
https://newtube.app/user/RenaudBe/5EdkewY
Misnomer of the Year
Is the difference between bio and non-bio really bio?
from: http://www.biggreensmile.com
Biological washing powder and liquids contain enzymes. These help to break down fat, grease and proteins to get clothes clean. While enzymes are great for getting rid of stains, they can damage wool, silk and other materials. Many people also find that they aggravate eczema and other sensitive skin conditions. Non-bio doesn’t contain enzymes so is generally gentler, making it a better choice for sensitive skin. And, in our opinion, natural brands are even gentler as they don’t use harsh chemicals.
So, if anyone in your family suffers from eczema, psoriasis or other sensitive skin complaints, you may want to switch to a natural, non-bio detergent.
Does non-bio work as well as biological washing powder?
These days, non-bio detergents are very effective and will get most marks out. That being said, you might sometimes need an extra stain remover to treat really stubborn marks.
Is non-bio better for the environment?
Not necessarily, as many non-bios still contain non-biodegradable surfactants, phosphates and other chemicals that aren’t exactly eco-friendly.
Vaccine or just jab?
The Pfizer-BioNTech vaccine contains:
- Active Ingredient
- nucleoside-modified messenger RNA (modRNA) encoding the viral spike glycoprotein (S) of SARS-CoV-2
- Lipids
- (4-hydroxybutyl)azanediyl)bis(hexane-6,1-diyl)bis (ALC-3015)
- (2- hexyldecanoate),2-[(polyethylene glycol)-2000]-N,N-ditetradecylacetamide (ALC-0159)
- 1,2-distearoyl-snglycero-3-phosphocholine (DPSC)
- cholesterol
- Salts
- potassium chloride
- monobasic potassium phosphate
- sodium chloride
- basic sodium phosphate dihydrate
- Other
- sucrose
Other sources claim that Covid masks, tests, and vaccines also contain these controversial ingredients:
Grapheneoxide nanoparticles (in the masks and in the vaccines) to facilitate delivery, yet it causes DNA damage, oxidative stress, inflammation and tumors
Nano-Silver, as an anti-microbial (in the masks), yet it kills fish and nerve cells in humans
Ethylene oxide, for sterilization (in the tests), yet it is a narcotic and causes cancer
See: Wikipedia.org (Graphene oxide and Ethylene oxide), BUND and Sourcewatch.org (Nano-Silver)
worldrevolution21.com 