Chapter 18
“Beginning today 20 April 2032 the name ‘Black Hand’ has been appropriated by the ‘Economic Revolution’ - The name “Black Hand” and all things previously associated with it will now exclusively represent any and all efforts to establish ‘Financial Abundunation’ throughout the planet by utilizing proven Permaculture strategies. Monies will begin to appear in accounts worldwide and should be spent openly and liberally within your immediate vicinity as water might be applied to encourage verdant growth· more to follow.”
At precisely 6:30 local time, Digital billboards throughout the planet began transmitting this message overriding any previous local programming, while in a seemingly random pattern .187% of all personal accounts worldwide reflected a 3.14% gain in value. Accounting firms were stymied in their inability to identify debits anywhere to account for this growth of personal wealth.
“Lammele, I’d say that is a fitting ‘shot across the bow,’ it’ll definitely be heard around the world.” Guildern was still deeply absorbed in the videos Mordecaise had transmitted, “How you managed that, I’m sure I don’t want to know; what you should know is that the scribblings of Mordecaise’ consort Carina are a nearly dead lift from some of the final calculations of Aaron Schtartz. Though aged, the predictions he was basing his work on have proven remarkably accurate. Aside from the final touches on the formula for ‘mirrored money’, they also include geographical targets for optimum ‘Abundunation’ including ratios of expected growth, and additional speculation on maximizing propagation; it is as though his theories anticipated and foreshadowed the Permaculture revolution by decades.
“You know there is gonna be ‘blowback’ due to this radical departure from norms; it’s one thing to hijack the flag of your enemy, quite another to co-opt her/his army.”
“People want to be happy and are going to gravitate to systems that accomplish that; having said that, there are still plenty on the ‘hater’s payroll’, BTW are you secure?” Lammele could sense Guildern was still absorbed by the implications of Mordecaise’ video. “Let me put it differently friend, can you dodge the bullet I have pointed at your head right now?”
“Still the fucking comedian ya’ moron, what about the bullet aimed at you? Jay Gould was not fucking around when he talked about hiring one half of the working class to kill the other half; speaking of which, you know that fuck Marksburgh has dialed up the ‘misery quotient’ from 5 to 8. There are only theoretical models for the behavior of humans facing this level of stress over extended periods. I’ll factor that into the projections were making, but it’s an inexact science, so be prepared. We should arrange another conference between principals of the group; there are just too many moving parts and emerging scenarios for us to fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants. We should be making manpower models to track crossover between Black Hand and former Black Hand, as well as growth charts for pre-mirrored money and post Abundunation. We’re in uncharted waters for revolutions based on horizontal org charts, and as yet we have no provisions for ‘deprogramming’ the mountains of fascists the last 50 years of autocracy-by-banker has created.
“Guildern, how many times do I have to say it, ‘if you got nothing good to say, STFU’.”
“Yea well funny-boy ‘Master of Ceremonies’ s’plain me how to develop a roster for an inchoate army of ‘Economic Revolutionaries” struggling against the forces of tyranny for decades without leadership and surviving on little more than an anachronistic conviction that it is ‘better to give than to receive?’ . . . S’matta Lammele, cata gotta you a bigga toungha?”
“Nutcracker Suite makes it clear enough; it’s the mice vs the gingerbread men - our side is gingerbread; ‘Abundunation’ is the Land of Sweets ruled by the Sugar Plum Fairy, which with what Mordecaise has found, I vote to be Carina Abeja, and nominate the dead, but not forgotten Aaron Schtarz as the Nutcracker Prince whom we are bringing back to life, figuratively, if not literally. I’ve already registered a ‘Tchaikovsky NS; LLC’ in the state of Delaware, and a mailing address in the Cayman Islands, and there is now a ‘Face Race’ page for ‘Tchaikovsky NS’ with productions scheduled on the seven continents. Mordecaise worked the bulk of this out with Billy Sortiz based on what he could share about the seminal abundunation organization in place to date. .. Whaddya’ think?”
“Hello Guildern? helloo, did ya’ fall asleep again old man?” If either had scars from their relationship, it was from laughing at the other for nearly 30 years.
“Nah Lammele, it’s just every time I think I’ve plumbed the depths of your diabolical mind, you open new vistas for me to savor; how do we plug leaks when the mice get wise?”
“Bob and weave; substitute ‘Pirates of Penzance’ or ’Sweeney Todd’ until the planet is awash in rat bastards chasing culture’s tail dreaming about Sugar Plumb Fairies and the good ole’ days of ‘Turnkey Tyranny’, I don’t know; gotta leave something for the Hoi Polloi to work out, or they’ll get bored and come looking for our jobs.
I gotta go, that sweet young ‘thang Leslei Coerktern wants to know if we have work for an unemployed circus here in Kathmandu. Call me when you get a publishable ‘white paper’ of Carina’s psychedelic hieroglyphics; we need it sooner than later for widest possible distribution: ‘Mirrored Money’ and where to plant it is going to be critical in the next number of weeks. BTW Lisbeth Phelps has filed an injunction claiming trademark infringement for any billboard in the world carrying the hijacking of the ‘Black Hand’ banner - life doesn’t get any sweeter than that. Talk soon, take good care.”
the line went dead just as Guildern raised his nose to a familiar fragrance to find Angela’s delta of the Alpha and the Omega splayed in front of him on the bar, in as open an invitation for a healthy breakfast as he could remember . ..
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Pasqual was getting homesick and tired of appreciating a culture that didn’t seem to appreciate appreciation; but he returned again and again to the memory of his uncle Jose’s moral objection to America’s war in Vietnam. It was a moral cul-de-sac that would remain on his shoulders, not to be shifted to those in his world when stymied. Reynaldo wrote much about his own struggle to apprehend the viscousness of the capitalist assault on a sovereign people, but was also continually confused by the easy capitulation that profit brought to an otherwise fiercely logical culture. Pasqual felt surrounded by a wall of indignity that seemed to justify abhorrent behaviors like abduction, shilling for the ruling class or even exploitation of love for personal gain - but why should Vietnam be any different than any other place on the planet; he wondered what made him think that Vietnam should be held to a higher standard of karmic etiquette. Pasqual had always equated the ability of Vietnam to defeat the imperialist expansion of the United States and her allies with possession of a superior moral foundation, but what he was discovering in his daily dealings was that morality is more based on a personal decision that cannot be subsumed by ideology, philosophy or faith, but only nurtured and encouraged through education and example. The echo of uncle Ho was a very powerful echo.
“You appreciate Tchaikovsky, or is it the Hoffman/Dumas intersection that you find interesting?” Trâu Bet enjoyed stealth as much as Pasqual wished he’d wear a bell around his neck. The role of host vs jailer had not been ironed out and Pasqual still had no idea where the cavernous maze of storage/studio space in which he was staying was even located within Vietnam. He had his phone and reception was good, but it was also clear that surveillance was thorough and penetrating. He opted for a frontal assault.
“It’s the way I was raised, something about mice eating children’s cookies or older brother’s preying on the weakness of younger siblings just gets my back up.”
“You got all of that from the mere mention of Tchaikovsky, or are you alluding to deeper meaning? The inexact creativity of Western education has always confused me.”
“Cut to the chase Ban Bet, your perspective gathers from both sides: you know that your art patron Faik Besos has been spanked hard by his handler, and you know I am not just a probate researcher looking into the death of a rich foreigner, or simply searching for truth about an uncle missing in action during the illegal ‘police action’ in your nation more than 60 years ago.
“Okay; Thay Thich Tok Longh is a personal hero of mine who I would happily give up my life to protect were I asked; he is, for lack of a better description, an ‘Economic Revolutionary’ and we, all of us could be shot for saying such words out loud. The real question is where do you stand in that continuum? From what I gather you are animated by proceeds from dead people’s money - an ‘heir hunter’ I believe is the title. That is not very high in the karmic chain to which my master has devoted his existence; is that far enough to the chase for you?” Trâu Bet fixed Pasqual with a gaze that could as easily apply to the sighting of a gun.
“Reynaldo Schmuck was one of 3 brothers who died at almost exact intervals from each other within the past year. Yes I arrived in your country as, as you say “an heir hunter,” and you are well aware, much has happened worldwide during my short time in your nation. Master Thich Tok Longh is not the only ‘Economic Revolutionary’ requiring protection, I believe with every fiber of my being that you and I could be included in that number and killed by command; there are many more of us prepared to live abundantly. My ‘group’ is in the process of creating an anonymous roster of kindred spirits wherein we may begin to share freely what we know and what we learn without the oversight of the hierarchal vetting of previous ‘social engineering fiascos.’ Does that answer any of your questions comrade?”
“Clearly I underestimate the ‘outcome based’ rubric of the pre-pandemic educators struggling against the ‘teach to the test’ reactionaries of your educational systems. I don’t doubt your sincerity Anh Pasqual, yet we are worlds apart before we can share intelligence with each other. I am fond of the ‘Nutcracker Suite’ and will look forward to opportunities for critical contribution to productions in Southeast Asia. There are no restrictions on your travel and you will find your telephone GPS operative; I hope your time in my private workspace has been fruitful and pacific. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish and return at will, so long as you respect the quiet and privacy, as you are within the most cherished of my few possessions. There is a motorbike outside at your disposal for as long as you require. When you go, I hope you will return soon so that we may expand and improve our understanding of common objectives. I must work now, or I will surely expire trying.” Trâu Bet receded into one of the many shadows of the cavernous warehouse which had been Pasqual’s home for many days while he once again adapted his sense of belonging to one more place in his travels.
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Leslei was sitting atop the pachyderm “Dumbo,” the sole animal in the Cirque du Lune’s menagerie, unless you counted ferrets, parrots or a pair of Kunekune porcines, when “Get up Stand” announced an incoming call from Pasqual, “Hey girlfriend, what’s crack-a-lackin’?” Though closing in on the full deck of a 52 year old, his efforts to keep his vernacular fresh always amused her.
“On the back of an elephant in the South of France, trying to hitch a ride to Kathmandu, what about you, good lookin’?” What Pasqual liked most about Leslei is he mostly believed her, even when she was bullshitting him; in this case he wasn’t sure which was which.
“You really think I’m good looking or are you just getting homesick?” however unorthodox, Pasqual found sincerity disarming as an interrogation technique.
“Yeah a little, his name is ‘Dumbo’ and he’s the biggest draw at the failing Big Top I’m trying to get to Kathmandu, because I heard no people on earth love a circus as much as the Nepalis.” Sometimes Pasqual got lost with her syntax much less her meaning.
“So you were kidding me about being good looking, but not about hitching a ride on an elephant to Kathmandu? am I getting that right?”
“Right as rain handsome. What about you? I’m having a hard time keeping track of the moving parts in this caper. We have the ‘nut cracker’, but the rats are giving chase: no on knows where Archdai Tryump is, or what happened to Faik Besos. We are going into production for the ‘Nutcracker Suite’ on seven continents, but all we have is a ‘casting call’ and a white paper in the works for a script based on a conceptual art piece created in a sweat lodge in the dead of night with the aid of Mezcal and Psilocybin mushrooms - is that about it?”
“In a nutshell, yes. Have you any ideas for a casting director? What did you discover about Demsford Schmuck and why are you leaving France?”
“I’m not leaving France. Demsord’s work is here, but explanations about his discoveries are there with you in his correspondence to his brother Reynaldo. Demsford was an artist to the bone and lived an entirely isolated existence channeling his idol, Paul Cézanne. His trips to Plum Village were at irregular intervals and seemed mostly confined to revitalizing his creative elan and confirming the rationale for his abandonment of society. If there are any connections, they may be found in fragments of Carina’s symbology. His work is very distinctive and I can see traces of it in the video that Mordecaise transmitted.
You do realize I am sharing all of this from the top of an elephant parading through the outskirts of Saint Tropez and still waiting on ‘hazard pay’ from playing ‘Damsel in Distress’ to Archdai Tryump’s pissant villain; I’d feel a lot better knowing what that snake is up to. Faik Besos may be neutralized for the moment, but the ‘petite prince’ running around without a handler could be just as problematic; besides what we’ve discussed, is there anything I can help you with?”
“Yes, the shit is about to hit the fan, and I’d feel better if we could toast our glorious success at the end of all this any other place than as a tableaux in a morgue.”
“So noted, ciao baby.”
and the line went dead
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Venceramos Brigade with Rosita and Rojo was just finishing their first set of the night with ‘Desolation Row’ at the Crocodile Cafe. Guildern was expecting an overflow crowd. He had such an unexpected turnout when Venceramos and Rosita covered Willie Nelson’s work, Guildern had to hold the bands over for two extra nights. He hadn’t seen that kind of business since pre-pandemic days. This weekend he was trying the two groups using Bob Dylan covers, and the interest was so great that an independent firm company from Buenos Aires set up for video footage on the music scene in South America.
‘The world had definitely grown smaller during the waves of death’ Guildern thought while he and Angela tended to preparations, though Angela might have said weirder, for through a simple twist of fate, the foreign owned “Pensione Excelsior Bar & Grill” had gone into receivership, and Sysa Phish, Angela’s former tormentor turned up pleading with Guildern and Angela for work at the Croc; Guildern was not in favor, but relented due to Angela’s determined intervention, explaining: “She could have made a stink the night you were stabbed when I quit the Excelsior; I had also doctored a tab for a drunken asshole and his friend, sending 3 liters of ‘Gusano Rojo’ and a kilo of Beluga Caviar to their room instead of the Champagne and ‘better’ oysters they’d demanded - for all I know the two never knew the difference, but Sysa could’ve made a stink and didn’t · that’s gotta count for something, yes?”
“Darlin’, you know your wish is my command and that I can deny you nothin’, but if that ‘bitch’ that you used to fantasize about heaping evil things upon during our weekends together does arrive at the ‘Croc’ she’ll find it ain’t named the ‘Crocodile Cafe’ for nothin’ - really! a kilo of Beluga Caviar, do you have any idea what that costs? Never mind; I’m just glad I know better than to piss you off, or at least when to run.” Just then ’Thunder on the Mountain’ came out from the amplifiers, charging off the stage, and into a crowd that wasn’t in any mood for tender exchanges, though the two made goo goo eyes at each other well into the piece; just as a ‘universe’ not to be outdone began playing ‘Beethoven’s 9th’ on Guildern’s private symphonic hand set.
Guildern was well toward the front door when the two bands broke into “The Levee’s Gonna Break”. ‘Modern Times’ got nothing on incongruent synchronicity.
Fairly shouting into the phone, “Lemme get outside Lammele, the place is rockin’, if we could only develop an algorithm for phones phones for rock concerts, we could make a lot of money and do away with encryption all together. Is that better?”
Waiting to hear his friend Guildern could feel the ’Tao’ very close through the sudden quiet of the front patio. There were few patrons outside and the privacy was nearly complete, or enough so that the two to get on with the business of managing worldwide ‘Economic Revolution.’
“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Lammele’s twisted humor set Guildern’s distracted mind back on track. ”We need to have a summit with the principals of the group, but it should be inaugurated using the nutcracker schema to iron out deficiencies before we ask, known and unknown partisans to stake their anonymity and wellbeing on a conceit - never a good idea. Leslei is petitioning to bring the remnants of the Cirque du Lune here to Kathmandu, which while I can see no great operational benefit, I see no harm in ‘muddying the waters’ so to speak. If Hannibal could go one way, why shouldn’t we go the other?
“Maybe because the Alps are one mountain range the Himalayas are another? Just guessing.”
“Yeah true, but she has already outwitted both Besos and Tryump, so they are more likely motivated by pride and vengeance than any operational acuity, what better handicap could we give her? Besides why should we have all the fun? Pierre is with her, not that she needs him; she is backed up by a pandemic-hardened circus and we all know from the movie what ‘Freaks’ do to evil men; Tryump is hiding under some rock Besos sent him to in Sarajevo; and Besos, if past is prologue, is aching to get back in the good graces of the ‘Black Hand’ herself, Lisbeth Phelps. We couldn’t have created a more complete false front if we tried.”
“I see your point, there is still much about Carina’s dreamscape I do not understand and am days, if not weeks away from any cogent ‘White Paper’ that would aid the cadres in formulating and executing entirely independent and horizontally distributed frontal assaults on the status quo. However the further along the ‘timeline’ we move, the more that will become understandable to our enemies about our true objective for pulling the plug on the world economy and transferring ‘all power to the people’ through an as yet unproven substitute, ‘Abundunation.’ We sir are loving heretics of the worst kind - faithful.”
“I have to check this conversation with Leslei. Without fully understanding her objectives for wanting to bring a circus as far as Kathmandu without comprehending why, we may be interfering with a vastly superior battle plan, and from what I am learning about how her mind works, that is entirely possible.
∞ (˚ ㄥ _˚) I
jts 7/9/2024
http://ExtinctionChronicles.blogspot.com
http://JosephTStevens.blogspot.com
http://stoanartst.blogspot.com
prohibited from AI sampling in any form
reprinted with permission; all rights reserved
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