Category Archives: Future

IT COULDN’T HAPPEN HERE (Patriots’ Stories)

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Don’t worry folks. This is only A STORY . THAT’S ALL- A STORY.

The Turn Around of the Mid 21st Century; the movement back to moderation. This you are about to read is a fanciful, far fetched myth as to how that took place. Naturally too fantastic to be credible. What obviously did take place was simply the usual shifting of political tides, albeit it with a few pieces of the normal dramas which got blown out of all proportions. Mere entertainment this, and no more. It never happened.

Marcia Handsbrooke checked her hair in the hall mirror, set her President’s Support Cap carefully in place, checked her hair again, then with a spring in her step and a sunny determination stepped out in bright early summer’s morn. Her day all laid out before her. First to the weekly morning meeting to brief the other ‘Girls’ of The Mothers Vigilant on the latest warnings of Woke activity, nationally, regionally and in the town itself, making sure everyone was up to speed, on the same page, and prepped, there would also be the Church Committee meeting at midday and the PTA in the afternoon, though they tended to defer to the Mothers’ Vigilant these days, a very hard slog but worth it. Then in the evening after dinner it would be onto the Social Media. Yes the work was never done, but it was all worth it. And Mike bless him was so supportive, he never argued. There was much to be done these days. The news was often reporting disturbances in the big cities, the would be another piece about towns going through a sort of liberal woke secession. And there were always the problems in Statonville itself. The small independent church on West Tree. Those two unofficial libraries. At least two ‘underground newspapers’. Nasty scenes in public. You had to be vigilant indeed.

On stepping into her driveway she noticed idling up the street an unfamiliar blue car. That ‘H’ caught in the sunlight. No one in the street had a Honda. Inside a white couple, dressed well and appearing to be in conversation. They drew alongside, the driver rolled down his window, he looked extremely refined and respectable.
‘Excuse us m’am. Our GPS has gotten us confused, we’re looking for,’
At this point the woman, younger than him got out of the car and began to stretch and flex her leg.
‘Sorry leg’s cricked after the journey,’
‘It’s those half marathons,’ he replied in a mild, scolding, patriarchal way ‘Anyway as I was saying m’am, whereas we’ve found your lovely town of Statonville. We can’t find this ‘Brakeleaf Road?’
‘Brakeleaf Road?’ quizzed Marcia ‘I’ve lived here all of my life. Never heard of that. Can I see that piece of paper you have there? Check the zip code for you. Marcia Handsbrooke by the way,’
‘Jon Wyndale,’ he replied, smile and a brief civil handshake ‘And the Olympiad there is Feylena Raff,’ who smiled and waved as she passed Marcia’s car pacing off her crick.
Marcia looked at the document laughed.
‘Oh no wonder. You’re looking for Drakelane Road. That’s down near the town centre. I’m on my way in that direction. You can follow me,’
‘Oh computers. How do they mangled an address? That’s nice of you Marcia,’ said Jon he glanced at his watch ‘We’re running late as it is. Hey! C’mon Amy Cragg. Marcia is going to be our guide,’
Feylena still hobbling back from the driveway opening ‘Ha-ha’d and moved to their car. Marcia went to hers and gasped.
‘Oh shoot. I’ve got a flat. Mike always handles this. And I have a meeting to attend,’
Feylena placed a friendly hand on Marcia’s arm.
‘Oh they are the worst. I had two in one month. Look you’ve been so helpful to us. If you just guide us to town, can we take you to your meeting place,’
Jon chimed in.
‘Sure. I mean I can change a flat, but if you are pressed for time. And we’re happy to help,’
Feeling a bit mean for being cautious Marcia nonetheless glance in the car. The shoulder bag was open, she could see the black and gold of a bible. And the latest by Bart Murth her favourite conservative author, Feylena was slipping in the back and rummaging through it.
‘Such a mess,’ she muttered.
Marcia sat next to Jon and he followed her directions. She phoned up Mike gave him a brief account, he said he would get it sorted. He was a bit brief and edgy today, always an indication he was closing on an order. Mind you these days.
Jon’s drive was a bit speedy for Marcia’s taste, but he was obviously a good driver, reflexes very sharp, and composed too, no running commentary about flaws of other drivers, in fact hardly any talk, it was Feylena who did the chatting about how nice the town looked, finally he spoke.
‘Quiet little town,’ he said to Marcia. She was glad it gave that impression. Although…
‘It seems to be today,’ she replied almost to herself. Two places hadn’t opened. Jeff’s gun store, maybe he wasn’t well again. The local party office being shuttered was a surprise. Bret, Jane and Trevor between them normally kept it going through sun, rain or snow, strange not being able to see the smiling confident presidential face beaming out. It was a pity about the shutters, though even here in Statonville there were stone throwers.
‘And the next right. Thank you,’ she said.
Jon took the turning at what she felt was a pace.
‘There’s the meeting hall,’ Marcia said pointing to a building on the right ‘Just in front of the police station,’ which she noticed seemed to have more than the usual patrol cars parked outside, and a few unfamiliar vehicles. Anyway she relaxed there was no one waiting at the hall, waiting for her to unlock the door, Geraldine was after her chairship and would use any slip to complain in that passive way. Jon drove straight to the station though.

The pace of the morning moved faster and things unravelled. As soon as Jon’s car stopped, close to the entrance Feylena, now quite agile, was out of the back seat opening Marcia’s door, unfastening her seat belt and setting a firm hand of Marcia’s arm.
‘Quick Marcia,’ she said in a low voice ‘Get inside. Now,’
Taken a back, confused and a little scared Marcia blankly responded to the now very authoritative military affirmative tone. She did manage a ‘What is going on?’ as Feylena’s now firm grip steered through her the station door, Jon close behind, apparently with his back to her.
Marcia didn’t have a lot of time to take things in as she was hurried through the main office Feylena and Jon now quiet silent, that grip tighter. On her frequent social and civic visits, she’d got to know the officers. A few regular desk folk were not there. Others seemed very muted, heads down. There were some unfamiliar figures. Three in a military style outfits, one of them at a desk and a computer, the two others, still and observant. She had this sudden feeling of being under threat and this pair were protecting her.
As they went through another set of doors she found her voice and senses, mostly now fear driven.
‘Please tell me what is going on?’
From behind her Jon spoke, soft, calming.
‘It’s for your own safety Marcia,’
Oh my, she thought, she had been right.
Her mind now frenetic with ideas of terrorists. Here in Statonville. Was she targeted? You heard on the news about random shootings of folk, prominent in their localities. Mike? The boys? What about them?
She realised, the normally friendly officers and staff, all looking straight ahead, carrying papers, or tapping on phone, tablets. Seeming too absorbed to speak to her.
And into Chief Phelbarg’s office. Only he was not there. An older man, gaunt faced with an air similar to old Principal Dyrsmere at High School, he had been a firm but fair man you never really wanted to be summoned to though.
‘This is Mrs Marcia Handsbrooke sir,’ Jon said in a respectful tone.
‘Thank you agents,’ the man spoke in a deep southern accent, gestured to the chair ‘Please sit down Mrs Handsbooke,’ Marcia now sweating and shaking noticed how he had one of those courtly southern ways she thought only existed in films ‘Agent Raff. Water for Mrs Handsbooke please. You must be quite shaken Mrs Handsbooke. You may take a few minutes, then we will talk,’
‘You should drink,’ Feylena said solicitously handing Marcia a cup of water, and she did as suggested, her mouth was very dry, she could hardly speak, her thoughts all jumbled.
‘Where is Chief Phelbarg?’ she asked, the only question she could frame. The man smiled, gently.
‘He’s busy with other matters Mrs Handsbrooke,’
‘I would like to speak with my lawyer,’ with the sips of water she found clarity.
‘Mr Garmith of Halsdech and Garmith?’ the man asked.
‘Yes,’ she said shaken again, How did he know? The gentle smile again.
‘I believe the partnership is somewhat occupied this morning,’ the smile faded a sadness replaced it ‘There is a suddenness of Uncertainty Mrs Handsbrooke. Even in Statonville,’
With that he referred to a laptop.
‘I am sorry to hurry you Mrs Handsbrooke,’ he turned to a side door calling out ‘Mr Aideren. Mrs Handsbrooke’s file please,’
File?
A young collegiate fellow appeared, smiled briefly handed a manilla folder to the man and sat down, a tablet on his lap. The man lifted out one piece of paper and turned it towards Marcia.
‘Mrs Handsbrooke. Will you please examine this document and confirm all the details are correct?’
Her married name, her maiden name, names of her family. Mike’s business details. Her various associated groups. Bank account details. And more. Twenty five of her forty years all laid out. Marcia found her outrage, she spluttered. She demanded to know what was going on. Who were you? You people. Jon blocked the door. Feylena patted her shoulder. The young man was tapping something on his tablet. The older man could have been Principal Dyrsmere. Serious untroubled features.
‘Please answer my question Mrs Handsbrooke. I assure you it is for the best. The more you co-operate, the more you will understand,’
‘Please Mrs Handsbrooke,’ that was Jon, he sounded so sorry for her, in her shock and more confusion she wilted.
‘Yes. Those details are correct,’ she croaked.
‘Thank you Marcia,’ whispered Feylena. The young man kept tapping. The man continued, he looked stern now. Like the time Principal Dyrsmere reprimanded her and Shirl’ for being caught smoking under the bleachers.

‘Now Mrs Handsbrooke. Your membership of the Mothers Vigilant. Did you of your own free will, six times vocally and five times in written documentation or the computer equivalent use the word ‘Purge’ in relation to fellow citizens of Statonville or concerning elected officials of this state you are resident in?’ he handed her another paper. To her horror she saw itemised in print comments she could recognise, maybe not the exact words ‘In addition. Did you  of your own free will ten times vocally and seven times in written documentation or the computer equivalent make hostile remarks concerning the race, religion or social orientation of citizens of this nation?’ another piece of paper. The process was repeated three other times in swift fashion his voice beginning quicker, more demanding. Marcia could only stammer, make half sentences of protest, excuse or weak demand. Was this all right? She could not recall ever word she had said. From somewhere within a flurry of anger burst out.
‘It’s true then. There is a Deep State,’
And there was Feylena’s hand on her shoulder a slight squeeze, when she looked up to the young woman, this time the expression was firm, the eyes fixed on a tv screen, with the volume turned down. To one side of the news reader was the picture of one of the very vocal colourful rising stars in the current government. According to the feed he had died in a car accident, no other vehicles involved. Other words coming out on the feed. Erratic driving. DUI? Marcia was not a stupid woman. She made the connection. Without one word said.
The questions were repeated. She could not answer though. She was gripped with fresh waves of anger, fear and confusion. Feylena’s hand on her shoulder again, this time it came with a pat, like the expression firm.
‘I think Mrs Handsbrooke needs time sir,’
The man nodded to Jon. Jon also firm faced stood the other side of Marcia, he and Feylena led Marcia out, this time through a back exit. There was a sturdy vehicle, no windows, inside sat three other women seated, belted in silent, she recognised them, a woman guard in uniform and of stone face regarded Marcia cold eyes silencing her.
‘You will sit please. Do not converse with the others. Look straight ahead,’ Marcia shaken did as she was told, there was a gathering numbness of thought, a lack of will. Someone was belting her in. The seats she thought were surprisingly comfy. She had been grateful for that water, so clear, so cool.
The doors closed. There was a slight jolt as the van moved off.

Jon and Feylena exchanged looks.
‘I do prefer a soft deceptive pick up. No distractions. No nosy neighbours,’ he said
‘That was easy,’ she said ‘Comparatively speaking,’
‘Yep. Final part. Another Hot Spot town secure,’
There was a grunt
‘You think? You pair don’t get off so easy this time,’ their superior had joined them ‘Our demonstration is getting a bit more active than we wanted. Some clown’s doing a Washington 2021 and brought a noose. The editor of the local, pro-presidential newspaper has locked himself in the john and is screaming for help,’
‘Good place to hide out. Very convenient ,’ mused Feylena.
‘I’ve said it before’ Jon said with irony ‘None so deadly as liberals, let loose,’
‘I hate crowd control,’ Feylena grumbled ‘I always get kicked in the ankle by some old biddy. I mean a six foot male lummox; you can deal it out and no one minds. But a five foot festy granny?’
Jon patted her on the shoulder. Very sarcastically funny, she thought.
‘I’m sure the director himself will visit you in hospital,’
Naturally she was not mollified.
‘It’s not like we even arranged the demo. That Swatson. He always gets them so fired and agitated. There’s an art to arranging an effective spontaneous demonstration,’
‘I’ll bring you flowers and candy,’ Jon assured.

A month later Marcia was in complete co-operation with the authorities. The diet of dull food, routine low key questioning, isolation and a newsfeeds concerning a high profile financial scandal masked by a government bills and presidential decrees was lose and running all day. She could not be sure what was true. Actually she didn’t care. Because….
The first week. There had been the shown to her video footage of Mike being interviewed by some other men, again polite and low-key. They were thanking him for his assistance.

‘Well I knew she was being politically active, But I thought that was just Marcia. I mean she always did have strong views. Some many folk do these days. I didn’t think there was anything like that to it. I mean violence? Well yes she has her own handgun, but these days who doesn’t it? And she always kept it locked up from the boys,’ at that stage he had started to cry ‘The boys. What do I say to the boys? Boys, your mom has been arrested for being a,’ and he broke down.
The hand on the shoulder.
‘We appreciate this is very hard for you sir. Mr Handbrooke. We thank you for informing us of your concerns in the first place,’ There was sympathy.
‘But I thought you would only be concerned with those she was associating with. Just give her a warning,’ and more sympathy.
That had been the first real body blow. Mike had informed on her.

Then she could not see the boys. She was told by a very empathetic matronly woman it was all for the best. They were safe and the media being kept away. She talked a lot to that woman.
The woman was a good listener. And a very good compiler of reports. As were others.
They decided it was best not for folk such as Marcia to see the programme.
‘Living With a Terrorist’ actually there had been a great deal of debate over the title, some wanted it toned down. Others argued it was necessary to keep the Liberal population on edge and give the moderate conservatives something to think about. Mike was on it, though at his request his face was in shadow and his voice changed.

There were howls of outrage from some conservatives but in the wake of the three school bombings by the right-wing militia the Sons of Liberty, the tide of the nation was turning. There had been some debate about using schools as arranged targets, but though these were spectacular there were only a few cuts and bruises ,and shocks. It was also an ideal cover to efficiently with no quarter terminate several of the militia in shoot-outs, the rest lost the will.

Six months after the Vice President resigned following revelations of their links to the Big Money Scandal (You think we could have come up with a better title? It worked didn’t it?), the lead coming from papers found in the care of that DUI accident. The President stepped down due to severe health issues. The midterms saw a move to the centre. Nothing so useful as a disillusioned or embarrassed conservative. The staged mass burnings of Presidential memorabilia were popular and there were spontaneous ones.

‘Hi there hero. How’s the leg?’
‘Will you tell those so-called jokers back at Office. No more ironic balloons or flowers. Your candy I appreciated. But Look at the place! Like a florists! Anyway the leg hurts like crap. I’m gonna have a scar for life. How is that going to look on the beach? Normally, yeah part of the job.  But taking a bullet for that that a-hole? A rampant misogynist, last holdout of the cabinet,’
‘Yeah, but his blubbering and peeping his pants on TV? Character assassination at its finest there partner,’
Feylena was not assuaged.
‘Another inch and it would have been my ass. My sweet sensational ass,’
Jon patted her other leg.
‘They can do wonders for scars these days. Anyway, what red-blooded American girl doesn’t go for someone with a mysterious scar?’
‘Jenny does not care for me to being the focus of other red-blooded American girls. I get fan mail! I shall have to get another new hair job,’
‘You’ll get a commendation,’
A rude noise followed. Then.
‘Put the word out that when I get out I’ll be looking for the sniper and when I find them, irrespective of rank or clearance I’ll shove their fancy customised rifle so far up. There’s only so much staged reality a girl can take dammit,’

In the government location…
They had been chosen. On the whole they did not care to have been chosen. Some secrets you best steered cleared away from. But they had been drafted in. A back-handed compliment. Each in their own way wondered how the people on the other side of the table dealt with such details on a day to day basis. Seniors in Law Enforcement, Security, Intelligence and The Military. When the chosen had read the reports and closed the folders their spokesperson started.
‘Thank you for your confidence in us. You have our assurance on this, the political side of the equation will not be allowed to be known. We assess there will be documentation to be signed which will make us complicit, each one,’
‘Correct Senator. We on this side of as you say the equation value your understanding, perspective and sense of responsibility to the Nation,’
‘Will we ever meet the planners and executives of this series of strategies?’
‘They will remain to the nation and colleagues, unknown, unremarkable, middle ranking functionaries, albeit ones with a great interest in Constitutional Law, Political and Social History, but those would be seen as parts of their official jobs,’
‘And yet. They spent their true careers thinking The Unthinkable, planning for situations such as these and laying in place strategies within strategies, having to shift and alert with varying political climes. Incredible that it worked so well,’
‘As we understand it, the basis has been in place for some One Hundred and Fifty years. The vital stability of the nation, the inviolability of the cohesion of the federal system as laid down in the Constitution. It has been utilised on a few occasions, although not to this extent. This was indeed one whole year in the detail planning,’
‘How could you be sure of the loyalty and co-operation of all staff on the ground?’
‘There had been that previous year of sifting through those whose loyalty was to the administration and not The Constitution. They were, one way or another neutralised or isolated. The details are in Appendix K,’
‘A mighty endeavour indeed. Some might argue a coup. Some romantics a conspiracy. But then these would not be realists. And of course, the viability and stability of a state can only be continued by realism. A shame about the number of deaths and lives ruined, but there again had this been an invasion by an outside power all this would have been accepted as a price,’
‘We are glad that the political side of the equation sees things that way,’
‘And we in turn are glad that you who hold so much in the way of, shall we say hardware, did not decide to take over the whole control,’
‘We hand you back The Constitution. Please keep it secure,’
Papers were signed documents secured in safes deep in rooms, within rooms known only to a very few.
There was a brief exchange of words between the political side of the equation.
‘Quite the price paid,’
‘The alternatives would have been so much worse,’
‘We are agreed on that,’
And everyone returned to the business of repairing and instigating the return to the mundane.

The one who had been vice-president did ensure they did not drink much. Too much drink and you could make a careless comment, which would be found out. There were monthly visits from very civil men to ask after the disgraced vice-president’s welfare and chat about that month’s activities. Those monthly reminders. At least those kept the threat of legal charges and imprisonment at bay. This must be going on in a few locations. Once the theoretically second most important person in the USA  did not ask about anyone else. It was all for the best. If they were very lucky everyone would forget about this vice-president, they would become a footnote. What a welcome fate.

Marcia was released. She had not contested the divorce. She could not think much these days. She just wanted it all to stop. A charity found her a part time job and a small apartment in a small, quiet town. All she had to do was register once a month with the local police who treated her civilly enough. She kept herself to herself, grew potted plants and adopted a rescued dog, she cuddled and cried to it a lot. Because she could trust the dog. She would never be involved in any committee or organisation again. It was noted and recorded she never voted again on anything.

Federal funds paid for Agent Raff’s cosmetic surgery and new hairstyle. She was assigned to training. The profile was deemed satisfactorily lower. A woman named simply as ‘Jenny’ agreed with the style and the posting.

Remember. This is only story. A fanciful tale. There is no evidence of anything so outrageous taking place. People simply had enough of the overblown antics taking place and gave up on the administration of the time, going back to more calm times.

The End.

*****************************************************************************************************

Footnote: Thanks to Jill Dennison of Filosofa for the series Parent’s (Night)mare

https://wordpress.com/reader/feeds/12093442/posts/5629704699

Being the inspiration for this ‘alternative history’ take on her series.

A Spectre to be Exorcised (Communal Violence)- A Repeated from 2022

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Uncle Sam

I Am Looking To You To Do Your Patriotic Duty

Precursor: I originally wrote this post on the 8th May 2022. It featured in another blog of mine where I deal with grim subjects – The World As It Is. Not As It Should Be. Now it seems that WP’s response to my posting a recent link to this post has result in WP saying it cannot find it….. Ah well, let us not get diverted in the various whimsies that are WP’s speciality.

Thus here is a Copy & Paste of that post is here for your consideration. It may be too late to do anything about what might happen in the USA on and after the 5th of November 2024, and the subsequent ramifications across the world- for you are one of three largest and most globally influential nation states. Instead think of this as either a warning to keep to the legal and civil side of resistance against the tide of Ignorance, Hate and Falsehoods, or worst case a preparation for Discord.

Foreword

This post has to be long. Histories have to be considered. Social tides and trends examined. That most troublesome of all factors Human Nature faced. It is hoped you find this grim reading, but not sensationalist. This is a precursor for you to discuss in your homes, your blogs, your meeting places. These words are based on histories of communal violence throughout the world. Including the USA. I have tried to be apolitical, most of the time. It is not always possible. Blame has to be laid in places.

Introduction

The present view that so politically polarised the USA has become, a civil war could take place has moved from blog site discussion onto the mainstream where more sober assessments are. For example:

Brookings in the following assessment of September 2021 concluded there was a sizeable proportion of the USA population who were of this mindset:

Is the US headed for another Civil War? (brookings.edu)

In January of 2022 an article in the UK Guardian raised this possibility along the lines of the UK’s own experience in Ulster

Is the US really heading for a second civil war? | US politics | The Guardian

Overview

It should be borne in mind that Racism, Intolerance, Profiling and Subjugation  are regrettably part of the Human Construct. No race, people, community, grouping, belief system have been free of it. So it is within the USA.

Although legislation and more constructive outlooks made moves to minimise the effects of these corrosions it requires a mammoth task of social engineering to purge them. Something which would challenge even the most efficient and established of authoritarian states.

Thus not the passing phase of the 1960s counter-culture whose short tenure could reduce it to arguably a fashion. Instead it was in the deep-rooted places of a Human Insecurity in sections of The White Community fed by the fear of loss of position in society where the nascent rebellions would grow.

The US involvement in Vietnam with a cost of wasted blood and treasure, left on one side a sense of worthless loss, on the other an anger at some sort of betrayal at home; possibly the first cultural fracture line in The White Community; the dominant group within the USA. These would be played out in the Culture Wars. Not enough attention being given to the mindset which gave rise to the Oklahoma City Bombing of 19th April 1995; this was the warning.

Then in the opening years of the 21st Century came two tipping points:

9/11 and the election of an African American into the Whitehouse, twice with majorities. The former had shaken America and set loose more of those toxic fantasies Conspiracy Theories, for the long term trust in government of the USA as dangerous as any handgun. In the case of the latter, the fact he was a Democrat made the backlash easier for one element of the White Community. Had Colin Powell or Condoleezza Rice accepted a Eisenhower type draft and won, the Republican Party and Fundamentalist Right would have suffered a truly existential crisis. But they had a black democrat. This made everything much easier.

Civil Discord (The Path to Communal Violence)

It is now necessary to move from the historical to consider the dynamics of civil discord  which lead to a break down in the common currency of discourse, bargaining, and the tacit, sometimes humorous acceptance of tribal lines.

Firstly the notion that ‘There is no Democracy’ has to be put aside, for people are able within the USA take to  the streets, the airwaves, the internet to give voice to their feelings. Thus there is freedom of speech and action, however in an atmosphere of heightened feeling this freedom comes with  tensions and reactions. The first tension arises when people feel their views are not being listened to, or being stifled. The second tension arises when those frustrations are inflamed by the feeling ‘The Other Side’ are not just ignoring, but are seen to be imposing. At this point there occurs a fault line when a shared perception results in ‘The Other Side’ being seen as a threat and there can be no discourse, the only facet shared by both sides being this mindset. At this stage both sides will feel the need to demonstrate, one will feel it is defending, the other will perceive this as aggression, engendered through the fault line affect. Initially it will be seen one side is more aggressive and assertive thus encourage within them a certain sense of triumphalism. This adds to the danger as in playing to its own support it fails to take into account that the very forces which placed it in this position will also work within the opposition. There is made a fundamental error that the triumphant side  can use Democracy and the Other Side will adhere to that rule. In addition some of its more strident supporters will feel the leaders are not strong enough and perceive the need to be ready to defend or if necessary attack with unconstitutional force. The stance sets within The Other Side the feeling they had better prepare. You need only scroll the internet to see that the ridiculously named ‘Snowflakes’ have been starting to own guns.

2016 to Today

To support my views in the previous section it is necessary to consider the last two presidential elections. In 2016 the victory went not to the candidate with the most votes but the electoral college votes. Thus from Day One the losing side felt robbed. A more astute winner in 2016 would have sensed the issue and navigated. By 2016 this was not wanted by the winning side and the other side were willing to take up the fight. By 2020 the lack of discourse had reached such a pitch that the losers of that election believed they had the right to seize back power because of a fraudulent election. This theme continues even now as a backdrop in the 2024 election.

The Republican Reaction as seen from The Other Side

Although cast out of the Whitehouse and seeming to fail in the courts of law, aside from the Supreme Court, the political machines now holding control of the Republican Party have been working at a pace to unravel the social, legal and communal trends of the past 50 years as they seek to defend their own ground. Instead of the usual slow, methodical  approach in this heightened tension they have sought to dismantle the processes of The History of Race Relations, Sexual Orientation and Abortion with no effort in trying to convince the opposition of their causes, they pass a simple edict. As they see it, this was done to them, it is now time to undo it. This is against the wishes of the Executive branch, the Whitehouse. Another layer of  confrontation therefore plays into the dynamic of continuing Civil Discord. In both cases ‘The Other Side’ are a threat.

Update: As it will have been noted in the schools, against the Abortion Clinics, the LGBT+ community and the refugees, the Right has seen fit not to use the politics of reasoned argument but of extreme language. Which is turn has resulted in similar response. Thus rather than try to calm down the situation, the temperature has increased so by this year 2024 the polarisation is wider.

The Acceleration of Civil Discord

In this frenetic atmosphere attention must be given to the structure of the USA at federal level. In use of the three office system: Executive (The Whitehouse). The Legislature (Congress/Senate) and Judiciary (Supreme Court) mirrored at State Level it was believed enough checks and balances had been built in. However with Conspiracy as deadly to the body politic as Covid to the population; dismay raised to horror by one group or another at the result of the last four presidential elections, the legislature abrogating its traditional and beneficial wheeler-dealing to consensus and the Supreme Court no longer perceived as a body above The Common Brawl another layer of toxicity has arisen. Belief that the system is no longer working. Either dread for the future, anger at The Other Side,  grim preparation to defend the home becomes a norm, or violent intention to impose The Will of Our Side(s).

The Tipping Point into Communal Violence

One action leading to a sudden call to or inexorable slide to fully conventionally armed groups is not how this will start. In a nation nearly inured to gun crime you might even miss the start; another shooting, unless of course it is between two groups. The next tranche of violent confrontations, would be by the bombs,  IEDs, the murder of prominent activists or journalists, politicians and any combination. These will be the signals the Tipping Point has been reached. This will lead to the ‘No Go Areas’, the latter being underscored by some very unwise incursion by one group into another and the subsequent ambush. It would appear police are already experiencing these; the next step in this will be the targeting of individual officers. From here will come the targeting of official buildings of government, of one party or another, and then for some twisted thought process a hospital, parents might well start to keep children away from school, seeing the history of school killings this would hardly be surprising.

In this atmosphere although groups will be surveyed, there will be the under the radar individuals for each person has their own tipping point. In recent years I have read the remarks of avid anti-war believers and pro-gun control supporters intimating or outright suggest a violent response is a feasible solution. You will never know when the normally placid person will take a gun with the specific purpose of solving a problem, or the group who decided to investigate how to make bombs, because they’ve been pushed too far. Of course each of these actions will bring the reaction.

The Institutionalisation of Violence

One fatalistic view is, considering the level of gun crime, this state is already in place. However the level can become more intense, once armed groups with names and agenda become seen by one community or another as legitimate alternative police or local guard. There is another level though, this being when the group imposes upon the community a code of behaviour and underground tax to support them, the tax does not have a right of appeal either. With this comes disputes within the group and rivalries with other groups. Hardened now by violence and fuelled by suspicion the violent solution is seen as the norm. And of course wherever there is chaos and violence goes crime, gangs would quite naturally seek to impose their own will either to take over a group or keep a group out of their activities. Those who felt it was only necessary to parade in paramilitary style in a threatening way will find themselves quite out of their depths as a fearful natural selection takes place.

The Official Response.

This is where matters are not so predictable. The National Guard would of course be called in to areas where the police are losing control. Being in a local part-time force with local affiliation it has to be assumed that members or groups within the guard will have sympathies, or feel a certain intimidation. Direct and open large scale mutinies would be very unlikely but expecting all The Guard to be a faceless, emotionless unified body acting only for the defence of Stability and safety of all is naïve, there will be fractures.

The Security Services be they Police, FBI, NSA etc would face the same pressures from within. Also they being closer to the body politic and the civil viewpoint would be in the position of doing deals or reaching accords with whichever group or groups they feel they can work with. In all civil discord this is an ugly fact. Whether in a federal system such as the USA this would be a uniform approach is again highly unlikely.

Whether or not the Armed Forces become involved would depend on whether the nation is still governable as a working state comparable with the pre-violent situation:

“I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”  Is open to interpretations, if some decide ‘The President’ is not legally ‘The President’. One thing would be certain, the element of internal security and supervision of members of the armed forces would be increased. Forget Conspiracies. Think of Factionalism.

The Resulting Political Overview

In this area prediction is near impossible, as a great deal would depend on the strength of character of individuals around which groups marshal. There are many possibilities. One of the least worst outcomes would be the fragmentation of the current USA into states which have autonomy. Washington, The Whitehouse and Capitol Hill being reduced to places of symbolism and the possible headquarters of Americanised versions of The EU and NATO, in an attempt to shore up America from outside influences while making workable the large armed forces and corporation based trading systems onto the world stage. How workable this would be is beyond the scope of this post.

Conclusion

Whereas The Ulster Conflict was conducted under a higher level of government the situation in the USA has the potential to reach up to the highest levels as already demonstrated and this is a most distressing situation. Thus what can a US citizen fearful for this scenario do? My suggestion is to voice your concerns, not in a partisan way from your own standpoint but as an appeal to stop this slide. Raise this spectre which everyday seems to draw an inch nearer. Demand of your representatives a return to consensus. Warn them, that they in the final analysis in any failure to bring discourse and consensus to the issues; that they in pandering to, or failing to confront the extremist levels will be complicit in the deaths of their fellow citizens. Raise this in conversation. Not as a warning to prepare, but as a concern as to what might come. The concern must become a talking point in the run up to the next elections. The violent minorities must be marginalised and the conspiracies put back in the toy box.

An Update in Late October 2024

A Formulaic View of The Acceleration of Civic Discord

Regrettably what passes as rhetoric by the republican candidate and his running mate suggests that neither have much concern about what effect they are having on any opposition, in that they are playing only to their own and on the fears of the undecided. They are therefore playing with matches in a forest in a high summer’s drought. And the groups feeling the subject of hate and discrimination I will repeat this formulae for you based on a possibility of the result of the presidential election, itself based on current polls:

160 million votes cast
Trump wins by 82 millions to 78 million. That’s 78,000,000 folk upset about the result.
10% are very, very angry . That’s 7,800,000 angry folk.
10% of that 7,800,000 are so angry they feel their way of Life and Democracy is seriously threatened, the feeling parallel to if the nation was invaded. That’s 780,000.
1% of the 780,000 feel the new administration and its supporters in the states are now viable targets. That’s 7,800. A very small number, but how many of the others tucked away the previous number have a sympathy that ‘does not yet speak it’s name,’ .
The 7,800 start to go public and as stated above with it make those inflammatory statements and acts. A similar reaction arises within the ranks of the supporters of Trump.

And so it begins. Not ranks as in the Civil War, but the covert groups as we in the UK saw in Northern Ireland, no central control, agendas within agendas and legal access to so many guns.

Violence be it is war or communal discord contains its own grim logic and thus inevitability.

Take heed. But look not to the gun. Look to Democracy while it still gasps for breath. Look to the Law. Look to the Passive Civil Disobedience. Cling to and nurture Hope. Never give up. Support the Persecuted. Speak with those who are only broadly conservative. Defy The Hate-Mongers. Convince or Warn the Uncertain. Keep on.

Prove my unhappy words to be just written out of Fear and not out of Histories.

USA. Your Time is Running Out.

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Yes USA. You as many a nation before you are being called to account. You stand at a crossroads. You may have been told this is all about Liberty. You will have been warned that there is a risk Democracy could be taken away from you. You will have been told that Intolerance and Bigotry will be rife.

Indeed, all possibilities, and then things could get worse. Much worse. Worse than you may have imagined. Or maybe dreaded.

Exaggeration you say?

OK. Look at it this way. This winter, there will be weather warnings about heavy snowfalls. I take it you will take precautions to try to minimise the effect. I expect you will not ignore them, unless you are suffering from conspiracitis. (A terminal disease). You will pay attention.
So why do you not pay attention to the warning of what can happen if the Right once more win this presidential election? Or if they lose have another spoiled brat tantrum?

Think you worst possibility, then think worse again.

Ah dear reader I am done writing mild(ish) balanced posts. This is an updated version of another post, from another blog

https://politicsandhistory359465094.wordpress.com/2022/05/08/a-spectre-to-be-exorcised-communal-violence/↗

I very much doubt if this will be read by the numbers of folk my words are intended for, it is probably too late and I have written this theme over and over again down the past few years.

So why bother?

It’s not about my nation, the UK. It appears to be a self-inflicted folly by a portion of a nation who gave up thinking of Implications and Consequences and either switched off or dreamed out the jagged cutting parts of the ideas fed them.

Why bother?

Because it is my duty to bother. Because in this world of instance communication, complex interlockings and interactions, where after two Global Wars and a series large enough conflicts with attendant social eruptions, whatever happens ‘There’ will be implications ‘Here’. Because if I claim to embrace a set of values which generally aims for Compassion, Tolerance and Respect, it is not acceptable to sit back,  shrug and do something pleasantly diverting.
Because the forces which are set out in the Broadness of History constantly roiling are at a stage at which they threaten to erupt. History you say, is always written by the victor…..Nonsense. History has a long, long reach and victors of one time do not stay thus.

It can be argued that no two nations histories go along the same lines. However there are tides and there are commonalities, particularly in the areas of discord. If one grouping feels another grouping is imposing upon it, in a heavy and unjust way, then there will be a reaction. The group of course doing the imposition will feel that it is justified to do so. Lines will be drawn, discourse will be closed down, each will turn unto themselves. And when the side imposing the will does not have the unconditional support  of all the security or defence forces personnel having made personal attacks upon them, it is then that unpleasant and unthinkable possibilities arise.
And in the USA this is being drawn in a very ever thickening line. For neither side has the will or ability to reach over to the other; despite the efforts of some very brave folk, there is no general consensus for this polarisation to stop. Thus from here the chances of physical conflict are raised upwards, to volatile states as one ‘But they can’t / wouldn’t do that’ gets swept away by the next newsfeed.

Some foolish folk will welcome it, thinking of a replay of the Civil War, or some sort of boardgame set up (yes they are out there, rather naïve ideas of the opposing forces) and there’s a very, very politically unsatisfactory unrealistic film going the rounds too.
It would not be like that. Look not to Syria of the past decade as an example, turn instead to Northern Ireland of the late 20th century, and maybe with an edge of mutiny within some of those charged with order.

Writing this it is difficult not to have the ageless Dylan song ‘Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall’ in my head. Listen to its lyrics and fit them into this time and place in the USA.

One final thought. Of course, there will be other nations seeking to take advantage of this. The motives are inscribed in the International Relations playbooks. If I was living in and devoted to that nation and fearful of the USA I would be expecting my government to do something to benefit ‘our nation’

A handful days of deciding and one day of voting to go. I personally only have Hope left in my resources. Hope for my friends in the USA, Hope for the folk of Ukraine, Hope for Hope’s sake.

Hope that the 6th of November will be decked in an allegorical sunrise.

And Hope that over the course of the next year, this post will be made to look ridiculously overblown and alarmist. A small price to pay.

13th July 2024- Butler, Pennsylvania. The Age Just Got Darker -Ramifications and Observations

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“Dark now my skyThe sea of peace has left my shore” – ‘Dark Now My Sky’ by Barclay James Harvest (1970)

13th July. It was about 11.00 pm BST UK; I was using my phone to listen to an audio book, when there came this alerting sound and the banner headline about an attempt on Trump’s life. So I think  ‘That’s it. The campaign is over. Unless someone tries again Trump has got the election,’  Another depressing piece of news. On top of the evidence on Facebook’s charity pages’ comments section to prove that innocent idiots and political illiterates be they Right or Left were still proliferating. Time to watch either Netflix or Amazon Video Prime for a while then go to bed with earbuds in and sounds of computer generated rain to lull me off, with the feeling there was an irony somewhere in there, but so what? The thought will keep for another day.

Daytime and sliding out of bed; the theme of a Blog Battle post stirring, rudely nudged out of the way by last night’s news.
‘Aww fudge. There’s a post about this which just will not settle,’
‘Are you sure? There will be lots of posts. Will yours matter?’
‘In the scheme of things probably not. But this one is really tempting fate, a real What Was I Thinking About? sort. And maybe if I write it I could be proven wrong, because sometimes Fate and Probability just hate a Human sounding off, then do their level best to proven the smart-mouth wrong,’
‘That’s very metaphysical. Go for it then. Knock yourself out,’

We have been a long time living in the Age of Image. With each swiftly accelerating interlude of time, Image gains more and more currency, although like financial markets the value is variable. Right now the one of Donald Trump fist raised, blood trickling from one ear and looking defiant- that stock is riding high and you can be fair certain some folk will be looking to make a swift profit on poster version; they’ll sell by the million and if you are a Republican then you’d better have one up in your living room otherwise some will want to know why. A diamond solid Image certain to ensure the wavering voters will join hands with the dedicated true believers and march rank on rank to vote on the 5th November 2024. Tough luck on those Republicans who were bravely starting to build up a coalition against the fellow. You’ll all be traitors now, if there were not threats against you before they will be coming soon. A vote for Trump is a vote against terrorism well that’s a relief, wipes out in one fel swoop the 2021 ‘A vote for Trump is a vote for treason’ . Sleeves up folks and jaws set tight, it’s harvest time! And Praise The Lord what a harvest it will be!

Oh yes there were casualties in the crowd as well and unless you are family or friends they will soon be forgotten. Well there will be some regret, but let us concentrate on the deliverance of our saviour.

Democrats. What can you do? I mean constructively do. Yes of course you can be stalwart and you can firmly resolve come what may to vote Democrat. You can take your stand in the tavern brawl that is social media. You can Hope that between now and the closing weeks of October Fate and Probability will have a few twists of their own to play, because they always hold the top cards. You can even play the Conspiracy Game, Lord knows that one is easy enough to manufacture, Only a ear nicked, Trump not looking shocked, the shooter already dead. Should be a snip. After all those on the Right are busy steaming up a few, straight to Biden’s door. Better do it from the corners and the dark though, whispers in such sensitive cases always work better as a start off.
What you must no longer do. Unless Biden falls seriously ill, he cannot not be replaced now. Think about it, there’s Trump bloody but defiant, and Biden stepping down; a Republican dream; Biden hasn’t got the guts. He’s frightened it will happen to him etc, etc. This is it. Dice has been cast, Rubicon crossed and so forth. Time to close the ranks and attack. No not Trump, no he is currently sacrosanct, it’s The Republican Party who have become the target, I mean there’s enough evidence, if used forecfully and eloquently. There is a slender chance, not much of one, true. That said The Democrats owe it to the United States of America, you are the only hope of salvation now. Unite and fight. No holding back. Careful though, choose your ground and go for the softer targets. You can even ignore what Trump says. If challenged about this attempt on his life, ask the gleeful accuser if they would have been so concerned had Biden been the target, get that hook in and don’t let go. At least go down fighting, and leave a mark. And you have that damn 2025  moaist communist style trash to combat

And yet I fear the odds are against Reason, Rationality and of course The National Good. Somewhere along the way the contageon which has taken hold in lands run by a theocracy or the cult of personality has slinked across by a social media blight into the mindset of parts of the USA. Going back to my initial thought on hearing the news, my second one was to paraphrase Prime Minister William Pitt’s remark on hearing of Napoleon’s victory at Austerlitz; I, looking sadly at the US Constituion and saying ‘Roll Up That Charter. It Will Not Be Wanted These Next Ten Years’ . What was needed in a nation roiling since arguably 2008, certainly since 2016 was stability and a little dullness, not the high drama of a shooting at a high profile political figure, with a cult following. As much as I want currently I cannot see any other path this drama plays out than for Trump on a trip wave of fanatical determination, misguided sympathy and defeatist ‘What Is The Point’ to get back into the Whitehouse. Not on the evidence of the recent years. Not with the wiliingness of part of the nation to buy into this Kafka-like Reality Show version of politics. Not with another section either giving up or thinking that not voting for Biden is going to save one Palestinian life. The script was finished and printed when someone pulled a trigger 13th July 2024 Butler Pennsylvania.

Now go out there and resolve to show in November that I was quite, quite wrong.

A Comprehensive Warning Not Be Ignored But Studied.

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Global macro trends – looking forward from 2012

Keith is a blogger I have long admired. His approach is mature and thoughtful. He brings together facts and marshals them into powerful arguments for his point of view.

In this post he looks back over the recent years and our still too modest approach to environmental concerns. This post is at a challenge, a steady yet remorseless case for more constructive action.

Please read and share. For our futures and our descendants

Thank you Keith

An Open Essay To The Current Protestors of The USA On And Off Campus

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US protests

Foreword: For those not familiar with my site. Just a brief introduction. British. 73 years old. Christian (slightly heretical- I’ll square it with God when the time comes) . Left Winger but not of a type you would be likely to recognise. 65 years with an interest in and an affinity to the USA. 60 years interest in politics. A possible affinity to Martin Luther of Eiseben without the vitriolic antisemitism common to his time. OK. That’s me. Let’s get down to issues.

Warning
There will be harsh statements, there will be very uncomfortable points of view, there will be a number reminders about The World, there will be questions asked of the reader, directly. And there will no simple arguments or points of view or answers 

Overview
It has to be accepted that the current one of the many outbreaks of full scale violence between Israelis and Palestinians has attracted the attention of the world. Emotions are running high as well as broadly justifiable feelings at the violence and the loss of life. Looking out from my allegorical window you must accept me thinking. ‘What a pity such demonstrations had not been expressed in other recent times for other peoples in their own sufferings through violence. The events were on accessible on the news and received sustained coverage on the Internet,’ I am not just discussing Ukraine here. Just check the word ‘Genocide’ and look back over the past twenty years. That said we must move on, for there is a future to discuss. We can learn from The Past. We may act upon The Present. But We must prepare for The Future. Your Future. The Future of Children, Grandchildren and Great Grandchildren.

Next, something about The Past and The Nature of Events.

Events, Reactions and ‘Causes’. The Shadows and Shrouds of History
Political and Social Events which make the news do not have simplistic backgrounds, they have complex histories, and History has a way of extending itself back and back and back. There is no sudden start point. Back into the deep past there will be a gradual build up of a momentum which at some juncture reaches the Deluge or Avalanche or Earthquake stage and from there on those Earlier Events will have a strong resonance in the causes of Subsequent Events, and so on. Each one causing its own set of ripples or fault lines, criss-crossing the Human Geography of Peoples and their Communities, while calling up the echoes and resonances of the Past at a pace and frequency which leaves the observer possibly embracing the notion that Time is not linear or moving in one direction.

To witness October and onwards and put these in full focus requires what some would call an unsatisfactory and arguably heartless approach. Some would in the spirit of outrage at the loss of life simply deny. Usually these opening words of mine would be a conclusion of a paragraph. In this case just take them as warning of where we are going, a place where Death and Ruination have often walked, and the participants comfort themselves with many justifications, which depending on your view can appear strong but reasonable. We start in A Place which will have a focus in History. 7th October 2023. A concerted incursion by Hamas into Israel causing a very heavy loss of Life.

Of those protesting ‘Regrettable’ some might say. Even condemnatory. However they will add, for there is often an ‘However’ in these matters ‘Just look at the way Israel has treated the Palestinians. That is terrible and has been going on for so many years’ . Well in the harsh prism of History, yes that is an understandable, even acceptable outlook. Treat a people badly and there will be a violent reaction. There is a problem though with that line. The Jewish peoples of Europe (Russia gets included whether it likes it or not) for one thousand years or more were subjected to similar treatments and killings. When they finally get back to what they call their lands they have a long history of their own justifications. They learnt from ‘Europe’ (since there still appears to be a majority of American citizens who can trace European ancestry that includes You too). Therefore the tacit acceptance argument which is used for Hamas gets comparably morphed with a bloody swiftness and ease into one of ‘understanding’ the Israeli approach. Still be horrified? By all means be so? Tell me I am distorting the position? Be outraged. Point out that the death toll in Palestine exceeds that of Israel 30 fold. That is your right. Of course.

Now dip into the bloody, wide, deep, tribute river of War, one that ever flows from the larger River History.  350,000-500,000 German civilians in the allied strategic bombing campaign of WWII. 70,000 British civilians in the German aerial campaigns by bomb or rocket. True that is ‘only’ 7 fold. At the time the governments accepted the other sides losses- ‘they started it’. Thus do not be surprised at the Israeli response. It is one that takes place with regularity throughout the world throughout the ages, and no one seems to have a solution which puts an end to it.

You may now, if you wish express more outrage, only please do not accuse me of justifying Israel’s response. I am merely pointing out to you the Horror. This is how it works. I cite a few others. Ask the Syrian’s. Ask those Chechen folk not in a warlord’s pay, ask the Tamils, ask the Uyghurs, ask The Iranian Women and the Afghan Women (although the latter two were not bombed or shelled, just beaten up and locked up, only ‘a few’ died the other thousands upon thousands only live in terror and cohesion, and being locked up ). Ask the Women where Rape is used as a weapon of war. Keep on asking. You should. Keep on asking. For if you have taken up the Palestinian Cause, it does not end there, not in this troubled turbulent dangerous world. Marching on one Embassy, up and down one street is not going to trouble the worshipers at the Triple Altars of Death and Ruin and Oppression

“We can learn from The Past. We may act upon The Present. But We must prepare for The Future.”

Into Tomorrow, and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Now to you. You who have taken up a Cause. You who have felt the need to protest. What will you do now?
Pack up and say ‘I did my bit’, then go onto the ‘rest of your life’
Continue with the Palestinian Cause
Or sign up for the Great Struggle.-The one where the Oppressors, Merchants of Violence, Hate Mongers, and Opportunists With Guns are legion. The one where the victims are counted in their millions, be they dead, dying, sick, injured, terrorised, brutalised, violated and ever on the move or sitting in hapless squalor. All located somewhere on the inside pages of a newspaper, maybe mentioned as a filler on a news channel, or when some anniversary comes along, or to be found by following a few links on the net. Those dead and those anguished faces, along with those dulled-eyed with the whole horror, forgotten. What comfort do they have? A few dogged journalists? Charities working ever hard?

If you are truly honest, if you truly care, you will learn a lesson from this time in Palestine and in the South West of Israel. You will realise there is no respite, there is no time to congratulate and go home to Sunshine and Lollipops. Hate. Violence. They never rest. They are never cowed permanently. If you are not ever alert, keeping a weather eye, willing to challenge not just your government but the ones who gave the acquiescence to pull the triggers, then somewhere, somewhen Some Folk will be suffering. One episode of protest does not cut it. If you care, you do not get to select the Cause. The Causes will come to you and ask for at least some attention.

Just take some time out and take a lot at the Amnesty site, or Medicins San Frontières’ or UNHCR, or – you just look.

Did you? Will you? When you do, be prepared for the shock and the feeling of absolute helplessness. Be ready to say without thinking ‘But I Can’t Be Everywhere!’.

No you can’t. Nor can those in the charities which work through the world. They try and they spread slender resources. I know how you feel. I challenge myself every day. As I write this the nagging thought  burrows deeper. ‘Fine Words. Now What Else Are You, Roger, Going To Do?’ and ‘Do you know you are in danger of sounding like John Bolton. An old guy demanding younger folk sacrifice themselves for your ideals?’ 

But I am not trying to stir the passive or the complacent or the apathetic. I am addressing You, those who have seen it right and just to take up a Cause, remember it is but one piece of a larger, bloodied ghastly picture where blood, tears and body parts are the paints and the canvas is human skin.

This in Palestine, as it did in Ukraine, in Syria will pass from the headlines, it already has started. At least it made the headlines. Learn then from this which will become the Past and realise there will be more of the same next year and the year after and so on. Unless we all in same way, somehow, some-constantly do whatever we can, how we can, where we can, when we can.

My generation with its flowers, face paints, gaudy clothes and music which at times was over-long and self-indulgent, we quite frankly failed. We went to a music festival or two, we might have marched, most certainly purchased the right albums, and then? We in the UK voted in Margaret Thatcher, You in the USA did likewise with Ronald Regan and two Bushes (the elder Not So Bad, The Younger in Comparison with now…?). And in our later years We welcomed Boris Johnson and Brexit and  You let Donald Trump, the Action Toy of MAGA be placed in the Whitehouse. Don’t fall into the trap of complacency or that curse of ageing which tends to set in in the 40s the ‘Huh! In My Day’ response as if what will take place will be nothing to do with us ‘We did our bit’
Yes, about that

One Final Message, Wrapped Up In Fable, A Warning And Even Admonishment

And this year. This possibly fateful year. The one which made decide whether the USA carries on, stumbling as do all nations, or slides off that time-honoured road, down the one where there are always storms and you can only just make out the sign-post ‘Warning. Rock Slides Ahead’. You have seen the intentions of the Right, you have heard the ravings of the spolied Brat who did not forgive for losing the last Presidential Election. To elaborate let me tell you that fable:

There was this guy. A man of simple Christian Faith, who prayed every morning, noon and night. He did not doubt God for a minute.
One day he hears on the radio a severe weather warning, storms are on their way, bringing heavy flooding. At once he gets down on his knees and prays to God to protect and deliver him. The rains start, the worst he has ever seen. He prays. A little later, a knock at the door, a police officer is there ‘Sir. You’re house is in danger of being hit by the flood. You best evacuate,’. The man assures the officer God will protect him, he will pray. The officer doesn’t argue, he’s got more houses, anyhow the fellow will soon change his mind when the waters come. The waters come, his house is cut off. An emergency crew in a boat turn up, hailing him. He tells them the same thing. They get a call on the radio, a woman not far off is in labour. Well she comes first. Off they go. The waters rise. The man is now on the roof, still praying. Along comes a rescue helicopter. He waves them off calling up that God will protect him. The crew have been on a long shift, the storm is getting worst. They can’t hang around, they got kids to save. So the house is swept away and he drowns.
He arrives at Heaven’s Gate, greeted by and angel with a clipboard. The man complains at sound length about how he prayed and yet still was drowned, How does that figure? Why didn’t God listen and  help? The angel consults his clipboard.
‘Well dear friend. God sent you a radio warning. God sent you a police officer. God sent you a rescue crew. In the end God sent you a helicopter. What more did you want?’

So then, I ask you, in all sincerity. What is this business about not supporting Biden? Have you not had enough warnings about what the Right has in store for you and the rest of the USA? They’ve made it very clear, give them that. They are going to roll up their sleeves and they are going to do their level best to sweep away liberal reforms. They are going to display their ignorance of socialism, squawk about this ‘woke’ word like crows with indigestion, get hysterical about what other folk do in their privacy, pick bits out of the Bible like stale crumbs and their followers are going to love it, then as a special treat they will throw minorities to the mob.

I would ask you, do you think, not just for one spasm of angry thought, but as a whole agenda that your selective punishment of Biden over Palestine is going to help those folk? Must I remind you that the alternatives are locked into an style of Christian Fundamentalism that is quite content for Israel to do this? If Trump gets back in the Whitehouse and you still stuck with your own fundamentalist agenda then you in part will be responsible for any more Palestinian deaths. Yes. Cause and Effect are terrible twins. In this ever tightening world none of us are actually free of them, but some choices can have more bitter effects than others. You do not get to try and parse your way out of this one. It is Biden or it is Trump. You cannot hide from that brutal truth. This World I have to emphasise is ever complex, nothing is easy, nothing is straightforward, nothing has but one answer. It is all hard work and dirty words like Compromise, Accommodation, Acceptance, Deals, Manoeuvre, Politics and all the rest that get the job done. You might wish for a better one, you might even be working for a better one, but in the meantime, you have this one.
There are other implications to punishing Biden and the danger of letting Trump in. Other aspects you will have to take in part-responsibility. You will have to explain to the LGBT+ community, to women living in fear of getting pregnant, to librarians, to minority groups, to teachers, to the future casualties and families of mass killings how your stance in punishing Biden was the right moral choice.

I am aware I appear cutting, but there is no other way. Implications hang heavy on the shoulders of anyone taking up a cause. They have the challenge of getting the balance right. and the challenge which turns inevitably into a responsibility. There is no way out. Nothing is simple. Ever. You might call me cynical. You are mixing that up with Realism. If I was cynical I would not have taken ten hours over four days out of my time to work on this. (That doesn’t include the thoughts running through my head while doing chores). I would have ‘let them get on with it, they’ll find out in time,’

In Conclusion
You will, I expect be holding fast to your beliefs that your opposition to Israel is the right course for you to take, that this is not a passing phase in the summer of 2024. If this is your choice may I make a plea in these points.

Remember the target is the current Intolerant Fanatical Government, whose brothers in Hate reside in Tehran, who gifted Trump the playbook on how to get The Big Seat. The target is not the Israeli people. And curses upon those who tell you it is the Jews. The target is the government, don’t forget.

Reach out across the distances to those in Israel who are angry at their government and wish to be rid of it. Support them. If they are demonstrating , then you should be in sympathy to. Have them realise there are friends out there, that they don’t have to circle the wagons with the unsavoury fanatics. Israeli politics is another complexity, one shove in the correct direction can bring change.

Research just who are the internal oppositions in Israel, the ones who for long years have tried to preach the creed of accommodation and partnership with Palestinians who also tread that dangerous road of recrimination and violence from within their own communities. For too long The Western Groups supporting Palestinians have not taken that road. When it is the blindingly obvious one.

We must prepare for The Future. Your Future. The Future of Children, Grandchildren and Great Grandchildren.

Time Out From One Direction. Forge On In Another

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Foreword: Having spent a week thinking about this and two days writing, and re-writing (and probably still making grammatical errors) I am still uncertain as to the theme. It is either an announcement, a public apology for future shortcomings, or something of a rambling discourse on the motivations for writing up posts in the Blogverse (in the case of the latter there is a chance some readers who are also writers of fiction might say…’Oh yeah. Not just me then’).

Anyway…..

Several years ago when I started out on another launch of a writing career someone pointed me in the direction of Word Press as a way to get to know other writers and make my work known. That said, although there was a great deal of time, and keyboard tapping on the subject of writing, WP being a social site my attention was drawn to those bloggers whose interests were more social and above all political and before long, there I was also reading and engaging on the subject of politics. For a while there was a quite productive balance, switching and, using experiences and styles from one to the other. At times it was refreshing to do that.

After finishing up my trilogy

And having too much fun and not enough focus on marketing campaigns

Just for Marketing and Giggles – The Good Ol’ Hard Sell Approach.

Just for Marketing and Giggles II (The team conference)

It was good to have the political side to blogging while I threshed about trying to get a plot going for a second series.

But, ah me. One should always remember that Dynamics are prone to friction resulting in Wear & Tear.

Consider the following:

Brexit, MAGA, 2016 & 2020 US presidential Elections, the bungling of the UK Labour Party from 2015-2019, that year’s UK General Election, Boris Johnson as PM, That Vanity Project in the Whitehouse from 2016-2019, the slaughters around the world which gained no public interest, the Russian Invasion of Ukraine and inevitable Western Excuse Makers for The Kremlin, The Return of Cohesive Misogyny, The Proliferation of Racism, the Hypocrisy of the American Religious Right, Mass Killings, The Conspiracy Idiocy over Climate Change, its degenerate cousin claiming Covid was anything but a warning from Nature, The abuses of Social Media, Men displaying their Sexual Insecurities by ranting over a comedy film about a doll. And there were more. Then came the final tipping point with the sanctimonious outrage at Israel (while having been quite silent over the Rohingya genocide, the decades of abuses in Sudan, complete ignorance over the Sahel region (where’s that?) in Africa, and never mind about the Horn of Africa- and that was just a few the vast majority current paraderers seemed to not give a damn about- all the while playing into the hands of the extremist corrupt Israeli Government and its rent-a-thugs in some settler communities ).

I knew the tipping point was reached when writing up a series on the current round of Palestinian / Israeli conflict and coming to the essay on Palestine. The Palestinian case was quite easy to see and understand, the history had an inevitable tragic flow to it. My problem was,  writing about something which if seen on social numerous folk would point to in approval (apart from the few comments on Hamas) while those very people know nothing of the Big Picture or the nuances of the whole Histories and to those I would yell at saying ‘Read the other two essays will you!’ (Not quite the exact words, but let’s try and be all Age-Friendly here). Set against the back drop of thousands of deaths and countless tales of misery and anguish my reaction is rather ugly and not justifiable, and also sweepingly judgemental. But I have always had to write with the restraint of a leash on an attack dog.

While, finally thanks to taking part in a BlogBattle every month, the fantasy book narrative was starting to coalesce with the characters; a time every writer of fictions hopes will happen….soon, and I felt the need to put my efforts there. A place I had some control over (not total control- ask any writer about trying to rein in Characters)

Therefore, to restrain my vitriolic anger (you really don’t want to know what gets stopped by the internal censor) and concentrate upon creative fiction I am stepping back from a smidge from the political side of the Blogverse..

Now that does not mean I’ll be leaving all the good friends I have made through following politics or not caring about the good fights that they fight on various fronts. Now I will be there reading your posts, putting a ‘Like’ but in the comments there will probably be a short statement of support or maybe an emoji. So you should know this is nothing personal, nor apathy breaking out. It’s just a re-adjustment. I will be there, backing up you in thought, but the words will be slender.

Vitriol can be useful in very small doses but when you are drinking it like coffee, it’s time to stay away. And waking up at 5am with a tirade of a post going through your brain about hypocrisy or intolerance, or the slaughter of innocents is not conducive to good health.

I am better disposed to spend my creative time writing fictions

I wonder how long this resolve will last?

0001

Keep on keeping on all you bloggers I follow

Sailing Ship

Strive on with your own journeys

PS: The worse part of the writing of this being not knowing what inappropriate advert WP will include to mess up the narrative at some important juncture

 

Required to Write Because…. (A Lament)

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Lamentation for the Future

Foreword: One danger or risk in writing is The Mood taking over. You have this urge to write ‘something’ in the style, even the content you have doubts about. This could be using a format you are not comfortable with or a subject matter which you are sure ‘needs more work’. And yet The Mood insists that this is how it will be. Part of you is still urging caution and suggesting the result should be put away for another day to be nuanced, worked on with reflection, jagged parts given a better ‘finishing’. The Mood will have none of that; it insists on the raw product be made public; The Mood in this case fancies itself to be a distant cousin of Melpomene, the Greek muse of Tragedy and bothered me to produce this. Truth be known I know not just what form this is. I dare not suggest poetry as that could bring sad shakings of head or even noises of disapproval from genuine poets. It may be some kind of monologue or soliloquy  in a play never to be written. All I am certain of is that it is a response to the news of several floods, droughts, fires and storms this year coupled with the continued presence of the Denial Industry, its Political Appointees and Social Media acolytes. (And probably influence of three or four Scottish laments which are ever in the back of my mind. No one does laments like the Scots) 

                  I was born
                When the seasons sang
                To an ancient song
                  With a warning verse
                  Of our vulnerability.
                  But our vanity and greed
                  Plugged our ears
                  Blinded our eyes
                  Said it would all be fine
                  There would be sunshine
                  After all the rains
                  And the storms were but passing trials
                  Cured by reassuring leaders’ smiles.
                  And mercenary pundits’ lies

                  Now the forests burn
                  Consuming innocents’ homes
                  While the begged for rains
                  Gather in far off tribes
                 Thus, with cousins grim
                  Sweep other folk away
                  Into seas that warm,
                  In their silent scorn.

                  There will come the day
                  Mayhap not so far away
                  When my eyes will close
                 For the very last time.
                  Weep not for me,
                  I will be at rest.
                  Save your tears for those
                  Who are left behind
                  To the wild, hot fiery winds
                  The raging storms
                  And the blazing sun
                 That blazing sun.

The Way Things Work January #BlogBattle-Dynamic

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Out There Navigate

He awoke like wading through jam. There was that rhythm of a brightly delivered  knock on his quarters door.

‘Compositor. If you please,’ and there was the high cheery voice.

After the customary reflex swear word Sylan opened one eye.

‘Yeah. On my way ’ the gruff bark was acceptable in the situation.

As the door slid open a slender face, bright yet with some concern looked up at him, at the caller’s side a large dog stood tongue out, tail wagging. Sylan scowled at both.

‘Lady Ensign Croí Eadrom,’ he said being as civil as possible.

‘This is my dog. Reluctance,’ she said in mock sincerity ‘Thus you can see I am disturbing your precious rest with great Reluctance,’

Sylan pinched the bridge of his nose. Irrespective of her superior lineage, exasperation begged he should empty the nearby jug of water over her. Thankfully her  whimsicality stilled the urge.

‘We have an issue?’ a fatalistic question. This was the problem with serving on a scout corvette, no room for two shifts of Compositors.

She grimaced remaining wide-eyed, again comic

‘A cluster of titchy Depressions. A light year out and closing. Popping in and out. C’mon,’ she said to both Compositor and dog and they followed, Sylan not sharing the carefree easy canine gait. How and from where?  In the meantime he had to consider those fist size version of black holes, darting out of the Four Dimensions seeming not to be adhering to The Speed of Light.  Corvettes could dance away from them, the larger the ship, the greater the time and space needed to steer away from them; hence corvettes, a wide gossamer, scouting ahead, seeking these, the latest unexpected  and broadcasting the warnings.

When it came to the welfare of the World Craft, five hundred myles long and an irregular width at maximum of a hundred myles, warnings had to be  multiplied to scales of years of time to react. Initially all on the shoulders of a few. He supposed that was how it worked. He only dealt in figures, not ramifications.

The Ensign as usual chattered away about how she loved the corvette, the stars, the mysteries of The Universe. She made the whole vista of danger seem, so natural, to be met and respected.

Lorgaire Thall captain of the Corvette Gealbhan was again reading It Doesn’t Work Like That. A somewhat bold treatise on The Ethereal by controversial theorist Maighdean Ardea. Nonetheless he oft referred to it for perspective. Unknown and Unexpected being the trade of The Avant Squadrons. The constant challenge of matching the Four Dimensions with depths of The Ethereal.

‘I maintain this is more evidence of White Hole possibility Captain,’ said his navigator handing him the summary ‘This clutch of Depressions did indeed just appear. Flung out as it were,’

‘The Ethereal was enough of a trial upon The World, Navigator. Out here in the Cosmos these seeming spontaneities would have us believe travel between stars   near impossible,’

‘As we journey we learn Captain,’

‘Indeed we do Navigator. At one Inspiring and Humbling,’

‘Once long ago, around and on The World we The Ard Tiarnai thought ourselves knowledgeable above all. The High King did warn us,’

‘Captain,’

Captain, Navigator and Lieutenant of the Watch all turned. Compositor Sylan, typical of his race could not match their physical elegance, yet his eyes bright and manner alert indicated the dexterity so common amongst The Fiontraíoch folk. Woe unto any of the Ard Tiarnai who thought the Fiontraíoch to be lesser folk.

‘I regret having to disturb your rest time. Master Compositor,’ Captain Thall said.

‘The Cosmos is no respecter of our comfort,’ Sylan replied ‘We should be grateful we got this far,’

‘I respect the gloom of your long-term forecasts Compositor,’

‘It would be nice to be wrong on that score, but I suppose Captain, the more persistent we are the more we reduce the possibility. How may I assist you with these Depressions?’

The Navigator laid out the chart and the information dutifully printed from the Assessor machines, and he appraised Sylan of his own estimations. Naturally Sylan listen attentively. Not his place to interrupt a Navigator.

‘May I sit Captain?’

‘Of course Master Compositor,’

Seated he surveyed the evidence, then with all due respect asked the Navigator to repeat his own estimations. The three officers accepted this; novice ensigns were ever lectured not to ever question a Compositor. Sylan set down his thick pad of paper and with an ancient pen began to write. As he did he spoke. His gruff basic accent falling away as his tones turned to a slow steady litany.

‘It bears repeating sirs, if the opportunity arises, you should visit the hub of the Engines of World Craft. Of course Compositors and our like have to witness this majesty. The many chambers, five miles underground set in catacombs so grand in dimensions that if empty a squadron of  battleships of the fleets could dock in each. Therein are the devices. The towering grey obelisks inscribed with external wiring like long forgotten runes. Their companions, the shimmering black towers, plain, implanting in an observer the feeling they are watching them with hidden eyes. All connected by intricate patterns of piping veins for miles of secret wirings, and leading far beyond to deeper places wherein lie the vast dangerous machines. Heavy and looking deceptively ponderous as they churn, or slowly spin or grind away supplying the World Craft with its atmosphere, tides, weathers, days, nights, shielding from the uncaringly hostile universe, and by magnificent ingenuity its movement at speed belying the bulk,’

Two pages were by then inscribed with figures, small neat script starting in the horizontal, then veering at occasions into vertical, and back again to level until the script became patterns within patterns.

Sylan stopped and slumped a little over his work, from one alcove on the deck appeared the Lady Ensign Croí Eadrom a raven on her shoulder up in a light steps she moved to Sylan and upon reaching him set her hands gently upon his shoulders, in response he absently patted hers. She and her bird looked to her Captain. Before she could speak, he said, with a sigh.

‘Yes I know Ensign. You come with Grave Concerns,’

At mention of  its name the bird inclined its head. The Captain treasured these irreverences of hers.

‘As you wish you may take Compositor Sylan back to his quarters where he may be allowed to resume his rest. Thank you Compositor,’

Mute and now smiling Sylan rose and once more patting the ensign’s hands left the deck. He knew he had been at work, but right now, even though recently formed, the memories were evasive, he would shepherd them in after he rested. The bird hoped onto his shoulder. Her menagerie. Ever the mystery.

On the deck the Navigator examined the figures.

‘Captain. I will need to verify by examination through my two auditors and Assessor machines, but it would seem we need swift evasion of the squadron, alert the sub-fleet on station to act as necessary and to pass this back to fleet command with a strong recommendation they report onto World Craft Naval for them to alert Council and High King that the World Craft should take prompt oblique course from current,’

‘That is indeed a heavy work load Navigator. You must attend without delay,’

Permission given The Navigator left.

‘Lieutenant of the Watch,’ Lorgaire Thall said ‘As we cannot burn up any time waiting, I will be in my quarters drafting the introduction to my final despatch, a task which will take some time. Corvette Gealbhan is now within your charge. Ensure those Depressions are observed for the slightest deviation in path or alteration in speed. Therein will be the only reasons for you to interrupt me,’

Lieutenant of the Watch gave out the necessary orders to all crew on observation duties. In addition to make sure nothing was missed he allocated extra crew to the task. All matters attended to he took his stance, gazing outwards, not action of any use of course; yet you could not help but be drawn to the immensity, a craft had to have its share of viewing ports. No amount of devices could make up for the urge to physically see.

Being alone he allowed himself the luxury of a sigh. There would be no rest for the next five, even ten watches. Any information which suggested The World Craft would have to make even the slightest change in direction would end up being a converted to a political decision. Not just propulsion or direction, but environmental adjustments would be made, even shifts in populations to compensate. How many of the thirty millions he wondered. And there would be those subsequent affects on the productions of support, the shepherding of floral and fauna.

Decisions to be taken upon the entire Dynamics which would start with the information from one speck of a craft. Although the responsibility now weighed upon all of the crew, he was glad to he out here and not back upon  the World Craft locked into the entirety of the administrations levels likely to be tasked with coping of any changes.

A door opened, there were soft skipping footfalls. 

‘Ensign Croí Eadrom’ he said, without turning ‘Is our Compositor settled?’

‘He rests,’ she said drawing alongside, no bird nor dog in sight, in a most  unconventional action she whistled soft ‘How is it possible someone can produce so many figures, so precisely, so quickly, ahead of any machines?’  

‘I am sure I do not know. In any case it is not good manners, nor productive to question the nature of any race, nor why within each race some excel at one discipline or another. There is no room for such,’

‘That’s true. Just curious,’ she quipped joining in his gazing ‘We all have our tasks,’ another soft whistle ‘Makes you think though, dun it?’ he winced at he mangling of language ‘I mean. Here we are, all in a flurry over titchy things,’

‘Depressions can carve through a planet’s surface if they strike. The damage to something as delicate as a World Craft is ghastly to imagine. Solid objects we can handle,’ he gestured to the depths, the unseen ‘Those Depressions are unstoppable. All necessary actions must be taken soon,’

‘Yer,’ she continued ignoring the requirements of acceptable speech ‘We’re not so grand are we? We have to keep on our toes,’ one hand drifted into a pocket of her jacket and she brought out a small brown and white rabbit, which she proceeded to cuddle and stroke. ‘Always keep alert I say,’

The Lieutenant had been waiting this, she always did this at some stage, but he’d caught her out, surely.

‘That’s a rabbit,’ he pointed out with solemnity. ‘I would suggest there is not even any lerts,’

‘Rabbits,’ she replied with a dignity so heavy as to be comic ‘Are always alert. Hence her name,’

‘Alert?’ he replied sensing defeat.

‘Quite so,’ she said, and with the rabbit settled on one shoulder popped upon a large pocket, the heads of two mice mouse appeared. ‘These are the Concern Sisters,’ she explained ‘I need discuss with the observation crew their morale, I will explain I have small concerns,’

He shared the rest of the crew puzzlement on how she managed to inspire cheerfulness, or level out tensions with such humour. No one of course discussed just why she was here. It was unspoken. To do so might upset the entire system; each unto their own, on this journey vast to them, but a speck to the Universe.

One slender thread in the pattern of Survival. From here on a corvette to Council of The High King on the World Craft. It was how The Dynamics worked.

These Chartered Yet Unsettled Waters December #BlogBattle-Navigate

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Navigation 2

‘Spoofle,’

Queen Gervalene’s muted outburst was as much a commentary as she would allow herself.

Both her grandfather Gerveg (The Rock) her father Gerveg II (The Just) had died early, their bodies giving out through the demands of their spirits and minds. The former through war, the latter at the demands of constructing an iron sure administration. Thus was Greymorell a stable, uniform and secure kingdom amongst a region of still dyspeptic neighbours.

Not one which had previously had a queen though. And a young one.    

Gervalene knew there were many unhappy about this. However, she was the only heir to her father and the laws were quite specific about The Line of Succession. Such were the heritages of her forbearers no one questioned The Law.

The Law, however, would not stop folk nagging her about the Supremacy of her Council, ‘Ware The Ethereal’ and naturally Marriage.

After her coronation she had spent twenty and five days at this wind and sea swept remote bastion. Contemplating. At least people respected that; The House of Nüchtern was ever serious and reflective. She was of The Blood and would do her duty.

Whatever storms. She rolled up her chart.

 

Queen Gervalene’s wish to ride the sixty miles back to Castle Verwaltung was in keeping with House of Nüchtern.

On arrival she was greeted by her trusted Lady of Service Liefje.

‘Your Highness. Chancellor Dringend and council await,’

‘Choppy waters,’ she added.

‘Of course,’ Gervalene said.

‘And sewerage spill,’

‘Oh,’

 

‘Your highness,’ Dringend observed the stride of Gervalene’s entry, still dressed in manly riding gear, gauntlets into her belt. No delay with changes into courtish dresses.

‘My Lords,’ she called as if hailing another in a fog ‘To business,’ 

Murmuring of approval.

Nonetheless Dringend felt it was his duty to ensure this young Queen listened and did as advised. Unforeseen problems had arrived.

‘Your Hghness’ promptness is to be praised,’ as always, he drew breath before he launched into the list of ‘matters’

Taking advantage of the calm before the storm Gervalene steered towards the table bearing a large map and being studied by Duke Krijgsman, commander of the Greymorallench army, of noble bearing, veteran, widowed.

Conventional courtly wisdom reckoned just the right husbandly material for a young untested queen.

All eyes were on Gervalene, evidently she was drawn to him. He smiled, benignly, a good open gambit.

She drew closer.

Finger traced along the map.

‘My dearest duke. I am comforted to see you studying our positions. With the empire still being young, it is necessary to consider our security and make good our loyalty,’ she leaned in focusing on a land two kingdoms away ‘The question of Accession in Unurhig threatens war, thus spilling into our fayre neighbours in Besorgt. Our emperor dislikes squabbles. Please invoke the Treaty of Wohlwollen. Our neighbour King Glücklos will be relieved we come to aid of both Besorgt and beyond,’

Krijgsman appeared conflicted, then resolved. Whereas he had intended to make initial maneuvers for the queen’s hand, going back to his youth he had a particular loathing for the trouble making faction in Unurhig. Gervalene smiled encouragingly.

‘With all due speed your Highness,’ he said heart moving ahead of head and loins ‘Unurhig is a complex land, the campaign will take some time,’ It was, he felt only correct to let her disappointment down gently. As she had steered him to.

‘Good Duke, your attentions to duties does you credit,’ Gervalene said and swiveled to lock eyes upon a small man of attentive and eager poise, ‘Lord Ferris Clerke of Our Offices. Please draft correspondence of Emperor Lexor explaining our intention in this is to support the empire and request our consideration for Duke Krijgsman to be elevated to a General for the Imperial Throne,’

Krijgsman’s beam of pride was equaled by that of Ferris’. Ferris had yearned often not just to record the word of the Throne of Greymorell, but to draft on its behalf. The honour of trust. Oh Joy!

 

Dringend already distracted was caught off guard by the speed and astuteness of Gervalene’s moves which he had to admit were flawless. The marriage matter would be moved down the agenda. There were other sudden unwelcome issues.

‘He’s got the Tightening Nostrils; father warned me about those. Here come the serious squalls, and watch out for flying sewerage,’

 ‘Your Highness,’ Dringend said teeth gritted ‘Our own Arch Expeditor of The Lord God’s Word, Aufgeblasen has been unexpectedly, or so it seems, visited by Imperial Custodian Captain Ondsindet. They approach,’

‘Ah. The Sewerage,’

Gervalene had to assume Dringend had been, for once, outmaneuvered. There was mutual dislike between the Chancellor and senior fellow in the religious hierarchy of Greymorell. She had to assume this Ondsindet was another of the opportunistics looking to rise up the ranks. The Imperial Office of Religious Purity was full of them. A chancer seeing a new and young queen as easy pickings. Aufgeblasen by association must be trying for an imperial office.

Now for a hard tack into the wind as her old marine bodyguard would say.  

She appraised them in best emotionless regal style as her father had taught her. For when The Time came.

‘Gentlemen,’ she said. There were mental gasps. Displeasure. The Queen was not using either man’s title. When arrogantly challenged that had been her father’s opening response. She had been taught well ‘You concerns please,’

Aufgeblasen at seeing a younger female version of Gerveg faltered, playing for time coughed and cleared his throat, Ondsindet ignorant of the land’s heritage forged on. There was strong evidence of a spready of Whychery into ‘this realm’, it had been simmering but with the death of Gerveg II had moved to seize the prize, he did check himself by adding the words ‘during transition’, but Gervalene caught the message. ‘Instead of Ethereal he had used the abusive word ‘Whychery ’and not just insulted her but her father. Prepare to engage,’

‘Your solicitude is appreciated Captain Custodian,’ some imagined frost was in the air ‘This is weighty indeed. A regent must care for their people. Respect their emperor. But must above all serve The Good Lord God,’

Having made what probably would not be a very memorable statement she curtly ordered the two men to follow her. A glance from her Chancellor and the ceremonial guard fiercely stepped into the herd the two men.

Gervalene did not pay attention to the words trailing her or Aufgeblasen’s puffing to keep pace, anyway she was sure he knew what was coming. They steered the swift tack to port and she led them down a quiet corridor to an rarely visited room.  She knocked softly.

‘Please enter,’ came a quavery, friendly voice

Theologian To The Throne Geleerd had been middle aged in her grandfather’s years, unofficially he was known as The Conscience of House Nüchtern. It was known, but not spoken of, that he had been the only one who could steer both Gervegs away from some of their more frighteningly harsh ideas. He maintained an unswerving iron resolve to the moderate and could quote from all five holy books in a gentle but deep reproof to his target. Those who thought him a wandering old duffer were swiftly appraised otherwise.

Gervalene took his hands as he rose with greetings to her, his body seemed to rely on resolve to keep going.

‘Your Highness. How kind to visit,’ a twinkle came into his eye ‘And you dear Aufgeblasen,’ then a knowing look ‘A Captain Custodian too. I am honored,’

 Steering around the smidge of sarcasm Gervalene explained the reason for the visit.

‘Dear Master Geleerd,’ Gervalene spoke as grand-niece ‘These gentlemen,’ there could have been more frost and a chill breeze ‘Are concerned over matters of Ethereal Abuse in Our realm,’ one admonishing regal index finger rose as The Custodian began to say ‘Whychery,’ he got as far as ‘Wh’  ‘As your queen I would ask of you to discuss this with them,’

          ‘Of course, your highness,’ he said with much affection.

          He had been her Ethics tutor, he taught with humour. She still thought of him as an uncle.

          ‘I will instruct the guard to stay. To ensure there are no interruptions,’ these words were addressed to Ondsindet.

          And she left, Aufgeblasen full aware that there was going to be a remorselessly long discourse which would leave him floundering. Why he could not have avoided this? She had moved so fast. Ondsindet was on his own.

 

          The muted hub-bub stopped on her return.

          ‘Let us be seated good lords,’ she said ‘There must be more to discuss,’

          Dringend was impressed by her maneuverers, she was indeed of The Blood and presently he was in her wake. At his imperceptible nod others waded in with their own matters.

          As Gervalene could only grasp about one quarter of what was being said but assumed each proponent had his own possibly financial interest. To avoid the shoals of delay she agreed to proposals, although saying pointedly to the clerkes ‘Let the record show: On the advice of- ‘. Thus, when something went wrong, as it probably would, everyone knew who to blame. After the first two had doomed themselves, the others were less intense with their interests. Tax reform reducing the burden on the wealthy was completely dropped.

 

          The council ended. Two remaining. As Dringend gathered his papers Gervalene placed a hand softly on his arm.

          ‘This was all a test? I am sure you could have stifled clumsy Aufgeblasen without my help,’

          Dringend seemed to muse on the question.

          ‘The Regent will ever be the last bastion,’ he replied.

          As cryptic as the reply was she read the undertow.

          ‘I do hope The Captain Custodian is careful with his subsequent commentary. He should know how much in Fond Regard Dear Gerleed is held in our realm. And The Emperor would not like some mere Captain Custodian to upset such a loyal realm,’

          ‘Quite so Your Highness,’

         There was unsaid agreement.

          The Guards would report on words overheard. Agents disguised as peasants would record predictably sour comments made by the fellow on his journey out of the realm. It would all be managed and filtered to the Emperor.

          Ondsindet would be wrecked on the rocks of politics. Aufgeblasen would limp back to his safe habours and be compliant.

          ‘Marriage? Another day then?’

          ‘Quite so Your Highness,’

 

          In the deep night she surveyed her chart, it had served her well, warning of the dangers upon this stretch of the Sea of Life. Look to the Ethereal for guidance but never predictions. When her abilities had surfaced Geleerd was there to tutor her, as he had with her father. She learnt never to abuse the ability only to navigate with it. Her chart, crafted with her own skills. And never make much of this gift. Just a skill like any other.

 

          She slipped into bed welcoming arms enfolded her.

          ‘Long day sweetling,’ sympathised Liefje.

          ‘There will be the marriage thing,’ came the grumble.

          ‘Got an answer. Grand Duke Profugi. Younger son of Maggiore of Cisapline. His older half-brother wants him dead to tidy up the inheritance. It’s not unusual thereabouts. He’d make a good King Consort. The rank and station would remove him as a threat to his sibling. Thus, he would be happy to settle here,’

          ‘There will have to be children, ‘grumbled Gervalene in between yawns ‘I like children and would make it my business to cope with pregnancy and labour. It’s the starting which vexes me,’

          ‘Only a few times a year,’ Liefje said ‘after that he can run free, but discreetly. He will understand. It’s ever such a common arrangement these days. And you can learn to be friends. He is known to be affable and open minded,’     

‘A few times a year,’ Gervalene muttered as sleep advanced ‘Oh the duties my realm calls upon me,’ her hand squeezed Leifje’s ‘Be thou my guide sweet pilot,’ she said and slipped off to sleep.

          ‘Thine evermore sweet Captain,’ Liefje whispered in reply and kissed the sleeping head.