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Buzz, the ordinary, finally came out of his cabin and ventured down into the galley, hungry for conversation as well as food. When he got there it was obvious he wouldn’t get either, not a soul in sight and none of the usual smells were emanating from the food preparation area; he was totally out of whack with the normal runnings of the ship. ‘Not to worry’ he said to himself while donning an apron, switching on the hotplate, juggling a couple of eggs and sleuthing out where they kept the thinly sliced smoked pig. By the time he done a fair impersonation of a breakfast chef and eaten his fill of cholesterol damage, the aromas of his presence must have drifted into other parts of the sealed hulls and the dining area began to fill with the appropriate cronies.

‘Well, well our long lost adventurer has returned to the land of the living.’ Piped the skipper in his broad Scottish brogue

‘Arrrgh, what swashbuckling tales do you have to tell us this time?’ added Jim in his best pirate voice whilst hobbling over to the table, feigning a wooden leg

‘Don’t sit down here with that parrot shit all over your shoulder.’

Laurie and Nat were next through the hatch with a couple of pirate jokes of their own but rather than a few rounds of ‘what should we do with the drunken sailor’ they pull a couple of chairs into the circle and settled down for the conversation they were all looking forward to. The interest in this gathering broaden as the many more of the crew filed in, soon the galley was a hive of activity and the java was flowing. Dr. Buzz was feeling as though he was about to begin a lecture and tried to shuffle himself into a suitable position, as to maximize the effect.

‘Why are we all here?’ he opened and then began to answer his own question ‘I would suggest most of us have been pressed into service because of somehow falling foul of our pursuers or making a moral stand against some particularly nasty aspect of how they go about their business.’

A short round of here, here’s’ seemed to confirm his opening pre-supposition and so he took it for what it was and ran with it.

‘I was an innocent researcher of the human condition, non-specifically specializing in truck loads of information that most diligent students, in pursuit of their targeted careers, jettisoned towards the scrap heap of an underfunded arts department Somehow or other I seemed to qualify myself for the non-paying position of standing apart from the commonly held beliefs of the various heads of departments that were well funded in their diligent efforts to prop up the crumbling moral structures of their various benefactors. As you can well imagine, I wasn’t a welcome sight in the corridors of power that honeycomb the higher tiers of society that control the day to day running’s of my country as well as yours; so I dedicated myself to understanding the nature of the beast I continually found myself butting heads with.

Now I know everybody here has their own valid concepts of what it is I am trying to define but before we go any further down the path of rebellion against it, I for one would like to put on the table the clearest picture I can draw of our mutual enemy. Power structures are elusively ever-changing and any attempt to circumnavigate the enormity of it can only ever end in getting lost up some creek without a paddle. Rather than go that way about it I have decided to examine the heart, liver and brain of the monster and sometimes my methods can seem as strange to the onlooker as a pathologist up to his armpits in an autopsy.

So it is with that in mind I ask you to persevere with me as I open up the cadaver and expose the rotten organs that inhabit it; firstly the heart. Religion has pumped the blood of despotic regimes since the beginning of time, its circulatory system spreads to every part of the body forming capillaries, so dense, that you can’t stick a pin in it without the evidence of it bleeding out. Of course it always has two opposing factions allowing it to function; venal and arterial, one sucks and the other blows. For the healthy running of a fascist regime you need a working pump distributing and retrieving the oil of dispute to the working parts of the body; in our world today Judeo Christians suck and Muslims blow.

The liver is the largest organ within the body; it facilitates the absorption of nutrients into the system. Secular politics brings to our monster the meat and potatoes that stop it from starving to death without seeming to have anything to do with religion, but I think you will find the two are intricately linked. Together they build the strength of arms needed to reinforce dominance over any opposition, ever ready to hammer into submission anything that gets in the way.

Now to the brain and its central nervous system; this organic computer sits over and above everything else with its tentacles reaching into every part of the body. It secretly gathers and stores all the information needed to fulfill its purpose for existing, issuing instructions and demanding obedience. It controls both sides of the heart as well as the liver and it will give its teeth the instructions to chew its own leg off if it thought it would aid to its own preservation. Be under no misunderstanding, when we choose to do the things we are presently engaged in, this is what we are going up against and we have about as much chance of success as

an independent finger has of shoving itself up a nostril to perform a lobotomy on a diseased brain in its own defense.’

After a brief round of applause, Buzz returned to the topic at hand. ‘Understanding the brain as it exists today requires a suspension of previously held beliefs on how it operates because the very nature of its condition is that it lies to the body about itself. Now how that happens is how we begin to understand it; when you analyze what it is you know about it, you have to ask yourself how you come to know the things you think you know? Chances are you heard it on the radio, saw it on the T.V, read about it in a book or was told something by an insider that has been under the influence of the very thing we are now not trusting; these are the lines of communication that are owned and used by our adversaries similar to the way the diseased brain uses the central nervous system to deliver its propaganda to its beast.

What I am suggesting is revolutionary in the sense that we can use intuitive methods to analyze the information in a way not possible if we continue to believe all that we think we know. For instance: If the body wants to improve its conditions, do the veins fight the arteries? No. If the mussels find themselves depleted of nutrients, do they rip out the liver? No. When the nervous system becomes agitated for no obvious reason, should it turn on itself when possibly, a simple brain alteration might restore order?

When every action has been taken by instruction of the brain and yet no relief is in sight, then maybe it’s time we analyzed the brain to find out what’s going wrong upstairs. In our world today maybe it’s time Jews, Muslims and Christians stopped fighting one another and combined forces to find out which part of the brain is the offending piece. Maybe it’s time for the armies of the world to unite in the common cause of kicking out the troublemakers in their own organizations. Maybe the intelligence gathering community should use its intelligence to locate the offending bits and disempower them from influencing policy.’

‘All well and said,’ commented Laurie ‘But how does that effect what we are doing right now? We are totally off the radar, hundreds of miles from anywhere in particular and if we don’t gain some kind of strategic advantage sometime in the very near future, not even likely to see the light of day ever again.’

‘Exactly my point if I am going to die or worse, in the pursuit of idealism, then I want it fresh in my mind what that ideal is and I can’t speak for the others but I imagine it’s the same for them. I want to constantly reinforce what it is we are doing this for and what it is we hope to achieve. If one day I get to stand before the asshole who probably thinks of me in the same way, then I want to be able to clearly articulate what it was that put me up against it ’

Another round of applause went up, which Laurie joined in with and by the time it calmed down they were all looking as if they were interested in hearing more; so Buzz steadied himself with a fresh cup of coffee and prepared to continue on. ‘I don’t know if everyone here knows about the origins of the intelligence agencies, that are probably on our heels as we speak, but a little bit of review couldn’t hurt; so bear with me while I digress.

At the beginnings of the First World War, when capitalism and communism where beginning to go head to head, the spying agencies were a shadow of what they have become today. Very little in the way of infrastructure and even less in monetary support and even though Germany hadn’t become the monster in everybody’s book yet; Britten, America and even Russia had sent spies into the fatherland to investigate the possibilities of them becoming a common enemy. In what was to become an important piece in understanding the formalization of the trade, all the suspect players were rounded up and put into a camp that eventually laid claim to producing more than its fair share of agency founders.

Ruhleben, its inmates and its associated news letter became the common thread on the resumes of the men and women who combined together with the officers of the British and French internment camps and ran the secret services during the Second World War. It was during this period the agencies got all the support they required to grow into the out of control monster they are today. Sir John Masterman, a noted resident of Ruhleben, wrote about this time in his book ‘The double cross system in the war 1939-45’, in which he describes how the line between which country, or agency, you worked for becomes totally blurred. The big moment in it all seems to be when Roosevelt, the then President of America, decides to form a pact with the Russians to fight Hitler and Churchill follows suit; up until then the common enemy for anyone who worked for the agencies was Russia. This created an irreparable rift in the fabric of the behind the scenes designated drivers organization that was to become M.I.5, C.I.A, A.S.I.O and the many other affiliated organizations.

Many, up until then, trusted operators within the agencies who had openly favored supporting Hitler over Stalin, were suddenly the enemy and had to be watched carefully for any signs that they might not be going along with their countries policies. But after Germanys defeat and the reinstatement of all those officers who would lead the cold war against U.S.S.R and communism, where ever it reared its ugly head including America and Australia, then the trouble really began because they were happy to sign up men who had served in Hitler’s S.S; low and behold, the agencies became the very thing our soldiers fought to keep out of our so called fascism free countries.’

‘Is this true Sir Hamish, you were a Wing Commander with the S.O.E during that period?’ asked Natalie

‘Sadly, yes.’ Answered our now friendly Captain Grant ‘This is why I had to leave the organization; I couldn’t stomach the Nazi bastards that were running it.’

‘Laurence, you were in a position to know whether or not this is true, what say you?’

‘I can’t really confirm or deny anything, although I have my suspicions, which was enough for me to leave them as well.’

‘So, who is really running the shop?’

‘Well, I’ve met a few operatives in my day,’ said Laurie ‘and the ones they seem to have to report to are their editors or publishers.’

‘Are you telling us the big media tycoons run everything?’

‘ I haven’t personally known any so I can’t really say, but I do know that one of the biggest in the business used to be the largest printer of Nazi training manuals in Hitler’s Germany and that the Head of the S.S worked with McCarthy in America, after the war.’

‘What do you reckon, Buzz?’

‘Media barons, Politicians, Lawyers, Doctors, Generals, Weapons manufacturers, Popes and priests they all seem to work for the same thing MONEY; he who prints the money pretty much controls everything. I mean if you ran everything would you let someone else be in charge of your money. In the entire world who owns the most reserve banks, which organization runs the most influential economies? Who really are the richest people in the world?


After Nick and Elisha had celebrated checking into their North Queensland crib, by knocking the head off a bottle of Moet, they dressed themselves in the appropriate poolside attire and ventured out to the gazebo area to rattle the bars and stars of some of the world most decorated retirees.

‘Well, God bless America and all who serve and protect, if it isn’t little Nicky all growed up and wearing his pappies boots.’ Boomed the loudest floral shirt from the biggest cloud of cigar smoke

‘Hell no, that lily livered pansy, wouldn’t dare show his face around here; not after the last fiasco.’ Added the human keg with legs on the next stool

‘Just my luck! Its General Pain In-the-Butt and his Rear Admiral Ima Homophobe holding court with Major Screw Up and Captain Cock Sucker.’ Lashed back Nick well before he had reached their table

‘I hope you’re here to pay up on all those Poker game I.O.U’s you seem to leave a trail of smart ass.’ Said Captain C.S

‘No way tight ass, I’ve come to do some work for my collection agency on all those unpaid bills you have been evading by hiding out here.’

‘Aar, come on Nicky, just joking; don’t make it personal.’

‘Don’t worry; I know it would be harder to get Osama Bin Hiding out of Pakistan than it would be to get money out of you.’

‘Hey! We’re working on that.’

‘Pity bullshit isn’t money, no trouble getting that out of you.’

‘You should have a little more respect, Nick; you’re in our country now.’ Said General P.I.B

Nick let out a loud, large laugh; followed by ‘with all the intelligence you pay us for; I would think you, of all people would know who really owns this place.’

‘You jumped up little upstart, I was running things here while you were still in nappies.’

‘You should show a little more respect, General; you’re in my resort now and if you don’t like it you can piss off.’ Said Nick

‘I don’t have to put up with this crap.’ Yelled the General as he stood up and began striding towards the rooms

‘Hey fatso,’ yelled Nick back towards him ‘you forgot your cheerleaders and their ugly wives.’

After a whole lot more yelling and abusive insults, Nick and Elisha had the whole pergola to themselves as a fleet of Limo’s began draining the resort of its inhabitants.

‘That’s what I like about you Nick,’ stated Eli ‘your motivational skills. I’ve never seen anybody empty a place as quick as that.’

‘So now we’ve got rid of those dead shits who would you like to invite.’

‘They are already on their way.’ She said

‘Then it’s party time!’


Chapter Six

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