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  1. 1. 2035 by PETER ALLEN 2015. The last international crew lifts off Moon heading towards Mars. Six people spend eighteen years away from earth. John Allen is born 2018 on the red planet. His neurons develop in an accelerated speed. In the age of ten years he returns to earth, meanwhile governed by multinational corporations. John discovers a new landscape on the search for his identity and coming of age on the blue planet. IN THE FUTURE . There will be travel to Mars by the entertainment industry. There will be more wars on profit. Everybody will be more confused by media and technology. More people will seek for spirituality. Earth will shake itself. I will be old and meet you for the last years. Venice will be flooded. Dubai will be the new gateway city, beside Hong Kong, Tokyo, Singapore Delhi, Bombay & Beijing. The old countries will fight for more real estate, water and resources. Money will be used for extreme flows of consciousness. Leisure time will be the only way to spend the day. National governments will take hold on social crisis, while global industries will produce all the same. There will be no escape. All books will be digitized, except new published books. People will spend holidays in the same places. Nobody will expect something small. Churches and temples will be refilled and you can book your space travel via cell phone. Medicine will allow control of neurotransmitter. Artificial cells can be produced. There will be rich enclaves (for those inside the entertainment and leisure industries) and megalopolises of the poor (being forced to consume). CHARACTERS: John Allen - born on Mars - protagonist; Peter Allen - born in Singapore - head of crew; Yoko - Japan - sensitive intelligence; Mark - US - biochemical brain; Arathia - India - communication talent; Richard - UK - astrophysical cook - the youngest; Miriam - France - geological intelligence; - Sarah - living at countryside / France - Peters ex-wife; Sammy - Johns half - sister; Aiko - Johns first love in NY; Emily - Johns second love in small town.
  2. 2. I 2015 - SEEN FROM MOON. 27th day. Six days overdue in time. We are running the last testing routines for lift off tomorrow. Then the ship will be in a parable line of fourteen month towards Mars. For reaching the destination point, we have to face accelerated speed during first month, to regain the lost six days. 28th day. Suddenly all the engines are working. After one week of repair and unsynchronized data flow, leaving the ship in navigable, we are on the way to Mars and fifteen month journey. The three-week stop on the moon base included. 29th day. Six pm. Greenwich time. The ship is guided by the moons station on its orbit circling the moon for eight hours and then using the spin for the parable line into space. While the international space station between earth and moon never has been completed, caused by financial and political controversies since 2010, national securities grew and military budgets tripled in between two years on earth. Our manned flight to Mars was compiled in a hurry caused by severe financial cuts in the years after 2010. We are probably the last international collaboration inside the solar-system for decades. After reaching the moon base, the screens disfunction spread rumors of sabotage. There should be no delay in transmitting data between our ship, the home base, the interconnected old space station between earth and moon. While the problem along the screens seems fixed, the data received and sent still has time delays, although it shouldn't. We have to switch to a different satellite to reinstall some programs for coded transmission. The repair of the communication system made us stay longer than expected. The light weighted construction on moon base spreads across five hundred meter. The units for housing, labs, technical and main unit are connected by corridors, which can be closed in case of severe problems. The main unit is controlled by high sensitive computers and directed by the earth base. Life on Mars? Seemingly haunted by the question, whether mankind is the only intelligent life form in the universe, looking for a double in the wide mirror of the universe. Are we tricked by the senses and the range of intelligible data, to expect lifeforms on the same wavelength scale of in and output? Without the bodies sensory equipment, all digital data flows would be obsolete. Can inorganic matter alter mental states via telepathy, mental flights, transmission and transgressions, observed by drug experiments? Is the brain capable of expansion? Are we looking for, what we already know? And if so, what will be there beneath our scale of perception and expectation? The crews skills vary slightly. The NASA ́s board decision focused on body, mental and professional specializations. Richard, trained as a cook, studied astrophysics, while applying to the NASA ́s program and has been chosen as the youngest of the crew. He surprises us with a talent of organic and stimulant humor. Arathia from India is a real communication talent. Since two hours she runs the software, sends messages in a loop, implements feedbacks to erase faults in code interpretation. There might
  3. 3. have been a mingling of in- and output, so our on-board computer was incapable to screen exact routines. During her training on earth, Arathia developed a bilingual filter program, which enables the crew to intervene in various technical systems by voice decoding in case of need. Each voice as password: Access to the human survival system, the communication area and the research data. Each member of the crew is locked into the 32 areas of the ship and fed by thirty-two security cameras. All screens on board are able to switch between live feed and data. The ships intelligence, surrounds the crew as second membrane, like the ring of Saturn. Constant analysis of data. This tiny zero gravity spaceship would accept only variables for survival. Mark the biochemical brain from New Jersey is responsible for the bodily needs. He is the coordinator between the biological transmitter cells and the inorganic data system of the ship. He surveys the stream of the research experiments during the flight. Nobody knows, how dreams and subconsciousness influence human perception during longtime non gravity flights. Mark also records bodily disfunction, nervous attacks, psychological contradictions and takes care of changes in food supply and medical treatment. He is responsible for a program, called "brain yoga", which, during the six hour regeneration phase recover our ability to be six hours "online" during the wake phase. "Brain-yoga" lets our synapsis go "off-line" during sleep and enables synchronous flowing time, instead of superposing incoming sensorial information. I really don ́t know, what brought me here. The recent dazzling years in a constant transformation and change. Sarah found the house at the countryside in France. I wanted to restart my scientific career. But NASA´s training program started suddenly after. I spent three weeks in France and the rest of the three years in the States. Remembering the few days, the sun was mirrored by the rooftops chimney, the wind in the trees, the green hills. Now seeing this fragile planet from outer space. This thin atmosphere, which surrounds this ball like a shelter. I fall into sleep for the six hour offline time. The recycled air is filled with water molecules, while an erotic dream, mixed with a vision of a passage through a small town by bus haunts my subconscious. While walking, I am stopped by a family with a child and a long arm. The parents ask me to take the child further. I apologize and return the way I came. The perception changes. Buried under the construction of a house, collapsed, secured by a thin line. I wake up and recognize where I am. The noise of the heater, the oxygen supply and the sound of the computer. The dimmed light stimulates some shadows in the sleeping area, each sleeping cell separated by foldable walls. Most of the cells are empty, evoked by the overlapping sleep and wake calendar. 31t h day. Sitting in between aluminum machines for boiling water and frozen dehydrated food. Compressed chemical extracts for survival. The room is filled with oxygen and the summing of the boiling machines. I let time pass in eternal amplification. The six hour rhythm seems the only balance of my nervous system. There were rumors in the news of the projects failure. Rumors about a conspiracy of sabotage of the mission. The current global economic competition and the rising poverty made the project unpopular for investors. There is no basic revenue intended. The project was at least financed by the space programs of the countries involved, of NASA and one private investor of the entertainment industry, who expects exclusive rights for constant transmission and broadcast of images of body data during the flight and the first ten years on Mars.
  4. 4. The delay of spin off into parable line provided new glimpses of possible failure. II 2018 - THE NIGHT OF HORROR. Yoko cancels the surveillance camera, while I touch her soft skin. We are laying on the bed in her sleeping dorm, feeling like newborn children, kissing us all over, while our breathing slows down and the hormones accelerate. We know, that this is the night, our two spirits form a new life. Johns life. Ten minutes after our orgasm, the alarm of the village crushes into the silence of the summing of the oxygen supply. Yoko takes her pants and throws the T-shirt towards me. In accelerated anxiety and exhaustion, we leave the dorm and run towards the control unit room of the village. What we see, lets our blood freeze. The control system of the computer is out of order. Fragments of data, projected on the screens don ́t make any sense. Never has anyone switched off one of the surveillance cameras, whose data is connected with the life feed system, the bodies functions and the nervous receptors. Arathia is the first, who signals not to panic. We decide to switch the system back to manual control. Suddenly most of the screens turn blank, except the main unit for heating and oxygen, the communication system with earth base and second energy supply for the village. We have to re-boot the system. During the night of the collapse, we alter the surveillance system and develop a program of routines for feedback to earth. The entertainment industry is already planning space missions for entertainment purposes alone, without any human research. We break the contractual agreement. Facing our lives as mice on Mars and as prototypes, we had to act. The last international collaboration of human exploration. We now use the surveillance data for our own purposes: to track and research changes of human behavior in extraterrestrial conditions and in succession of one generation. Nobody on earth will get any suspicion. Arathia has implemented irregularities into the broadcast program, some kind of self healing viruses. Yoko, Arathia and me begin the six hour routine. We enhance our memory capabilities by using subconscious and conscious rhizomatic thinking. Its Miriam, who after her sleeping and meditation phase enters the dining area for a coffee. I checked the data surveillance inside and outside of the village for six hours, studying the sensory dream wake human condition and body movement, caused by Mars gravity. My eyes are tired of the green computer screens. Miriam takes a seat at the table and we are facing our first encounter since month. "Do you think we will return to earth?" she asks. I shake my head, feeling this longing for return to earth as something human. "But will this planet provide any real chance of home? Maybe at the end a claustrophobic home?" I shake my head again: "Don ́t know. Maybe we find a deeper quest of human destination - maybe we find nothing." "Do you think, we are challenging only what we already know? That we ask the same questions, we already have answers for? And for whom will this information serve? We cannot raise children here." So she doesn't know, that Yoko and me are having a love affair. Humans in close spatial conditions sometimes have more secrets, than people living in extreme distances. I keep my lullaby, leave the dining area, move towards sleep time and brain-yoga phase and follow the stars blinking through the dorm window.
  5. 5. III 2025 - JOHNS BIRTHDAY. John is now 7 years of age. He is the first born on another planet. Constantly he faces control over his human and neuronic system. I first didn't know, if Yoko would be able to give birth to John, as unmanned ships brought supplies to construct the village every second year. In 2025 the village was completed and the broadcast to earth has stopped. We now grow vegetables in one of the containers, forming a close circuit of five units. After John's recreation period, we meet Richard, the astrophysical cook, who has made an apple pie in white. Yoko loaded a lot of new music conserves down, supplied by the last commuter ship. Though not possessing any stimulating or alcoholic liquids, (the few drugs we possess, are reserved for medical treatment or for testing programs on brain expansion), our brain-yoga program stimulates the subconscious area for self-entertainment. From time to time we exchange personal diaries, created by the security cameras and data of the body cells, like in older oral communities. John learned, to trick the constant surveillance. His body began to produce neuronic transmitter on demand, enabling him to play with the conditions being born in. Several times he fooled Marks program for recording brain and neuronic routines, that itself is learning from Johns neuronic needs and body cells. He is prepared for an adventure outside of the village. John is nervous today. His hormones nearly to puberty longing for a missing partner. It is only a matter of time, he will confuse the whole village. To start a small population in the Village was the main focus of the mission. The crew was chosen on genetical criteria. During the first year I fell in love with Miriam, but our extreme psychological counterparts finally excluded joy in having sex. Nobody knew, if our research program, focused on human brain and neuronic change in altered living conditions, would bring back old habits of aggression and of imprisonment. Nobody knew, if we would build a superficial control unit, where in the near future clans would define new territories. The corporations on earth are fighting for resources. Frontiers of former countries nearly have vanished. Instead, sheltered communities have established itself. Still existing national governments are degraded to solve the problems of those, who don't partake in the luxury enclaves and in the entertainment industry. IV 2028 - TILL THE EDGE (OF DAWN) and then disappearing. Through the gap. Upwards and downwards. Discovering pain. Thats how John claimed his return and his departure. If there wouldn't have been his sixteen year old half-sister Sammy. He has seen her photos, which arrived digitally on Mars every second year. After the three month of quarantine, John went under medical supervision. The altered muscles, the faster growing cellular structure of body cells and the accelerated hormones differ quite existentially of those of terrestrials. With wide open arms Sarah expects him in front of the house. A living parcel from Mars. Sammy is standing on one leg and dances in front of the garden door, as if her thoughts are playing roulette.
  6. 6. John slides in Sarah's arms, as if she is the expected endless landscape, to be discovered. The car escort departs from the house. John; sarah and Sammy are stumbling over the gardens entry. As they arrive inside the kitchen, John unpacks his secrets on the table: a gauge for his neurotransmitter, three small Mars-stones and a digital camera, compressing the records of his former life: An electronic diary. Inside the house in France, there are no security locks, no surveillance cameras, no whispering of the oxygen supply. Instead there are two female beings. Sammy puts two of the Mars stones in her hands, as if she feels the distance, they have travelled. John, who fooled everyone inside the village on Mars, seems embarrassed. "How does it feel to be here?" tries Sammy to begin a dialogue "Do you think, you can swap this house for your martian village? Do you like french chansons?" 'A sixteen year old girl, who is listening to french crap' thinks John "I thought on Earth you are now more into Tripn'Blow with wavelengths of cascades?" " That was en vogue two years ago. Now, there is a real retro". John wrinkles his forehead: "This must be an effort." Sammy and Sarah don't know anything about Johns neuronal capabilities. Focusing on his movements, they feel a difference towards normal body conditions. Sammy has naked boys seen under the shower at school. Already had sentimental exchanges. But as more and more she is focusing on Johns habits, the more and more she discovers the stranger in him. John has saved some music storages from brain-yoga phase. His device re-plays a strange melange of stretched passages, accelerated scratching noises. The sound transforms the air of the kitchen into a frozen condition, chopping it up into tiny pieces. "I haven't heard anything like this before", Sammy cuts into the noise. "Its my own data!", John counterstrikes. "First, we should eat something", Sarah interrupts the two fighters, "I've made apple pie and vegetable soup for you. I´m excited to know, if you like the taste. " "Apple pie we also had at the village, but no apples. Was a kind of substitute. Vegetable we could grow, but the taste of each was similar." "Then your senses will explode." If they could know..... Two weeks in advance of Johns tenth birthday, Sarah and John hit the road with the luxurious Lancia towards Bruxelles. Sarah is into art consultancy of a corporation. She made reservations for two hotel rooms at the center of the city, whose rooms are named after different countries. Sarah discovers Kenya, while John enters Madagascar with portholes and photo wallpaper, suggesting a humble life of a cabin-boy. After eight hours of drive, John puts the gauge for neurotransmitter on the side desk and tries to relax. In the next room, at Kenya, Sarah slides into dreamscape of a bourgeoise colonial family, surrounded by fake tiger fur and wooden ancestors masks. Its short to eleven, as voices of tourists penetrate Johns ears. He connects the gauge with his left arm to accelerate his neuronal transmitter. His consciousness focused, his motor force subjected to sensorial bodily records, he rushes out of the room. Cities during night. He mingles with juvenile tourists and ends up inside a bar at the center of town. The floor is covered with empty beer bottles, while the young visitors play their courtship rituals or are simply drunk. Glasses smash unto the ground and the sound of the bass hits the stomachs region with a rumbling beat. While paying his beer, his senses are still sharpened like razor blades. He heads back to the hotel. On the way, a group of fifteen year old boys, who signal a sexual encounter, address words in flemish towards him, he doesn't understand. He feels relieved, as he arrives at the side entrance of the hotel, takes the security key, enters the night code and the door opens with a swing. He climbs the stairs upwards and misses the whispering oxygen supply and the continuous silence of the village on MARS.
  7. 7. V 2033 - AT SARAH IN FRANCE. Science has gained nothing. John follows the technical pages, searches the scheduled experiments for black holes, Higgs and neutrinos, which brought Cern near Geneva during the year 2010 into the news headlines. The energy supply for those experiments seems without limits. A nuclear power station delivers electricity. Multiple feet of data storages will be filled. Probably nothing will be found. Like 2010, the unresolved questions will remain. But the experiments continue. The necessary system will expand. The deconstruction of the sub atomic level is mirrored at the social scale of human network. But John stands aside of this. He feels like standing beside this historical mirror. Analytic preciseness and bodily transformations are his capabilities. His sexual desire is now in the age of fifteen comparable to a twenty year old grown doesn't challenge him. He is getting bored quite fast and feels superior at the same time. Sarah tries to introduce him to the erotic side of human life. Veiled hints. One is just born. The other, already an attracting pulsar. John discovers the sensitive meaning of skin, while seeing a naked companion at school inside the locker room, whose skin all over is covered with tattoos. On Mars, these rituals weren't existing. Full of curiosity, he is becoming the observer by crossing the barriers. Circumventing the protection shields being set up. It is early evening after a sunny day. Shadows are hanging low, and a soft breeze covers Johns breath. The hiding light protects his consciousness from diving into deep matter. Thoughts are crawling to the surface of existence, like on a black japanese polished vase. The windows slightly open, some noises are audible. John creeps along the corridor and stops in front of Sarah's open door. She is watching her naked body mirroring, touching her breasts gently, her hips, her belly. The smooth softness of her skin. Not mentioning John, the scout from Mars. He gets an erection, while Sarah is focused on herself. Silent minutes. A staccato like orgasm is pushing its way inside his brain. Neuronal transmitter release a wet spot on his blue jeans, while a cloud of Sarah's eau de toilette finds its destination: his nose. A smell, he never will forget. Its the fourteenth July of 2033. The crew from Mars is heading back home to earth. No more cargo was delivered. The food supply went to zero. The biological farming program on the Mars village couldn't support their daily needs any more. The glider took the crew on board during a routine flight from the International Space Station. The Mars lander wouldn't have secured save landing on earth. They reach Houston. Followed by a three month quarantine and the muscle building program. But there will be restart problems. The weeks pass by in agonizing speed. Earth heat acceleration is providing a hot summer for Houston. Protected in below surface level chambers, wrapped in regenerative plastic, the crew is killing time. Focused unto uncertain future outside of NASA, their return opened a cataleptic time trap for them. Like in slow motion their bodies pass the distances between the private chambers and the meeting room. During their daily meals they are trying to make plans for future inside an insecure world. HOUSTON is a faceless Texan city. The number of home- and jobless people, fed with entertainment are visible within town. The three month, while in quarantine let the crew suffer more of boredom than the nine month lasting flight itself.
  8. 8. STILLS. Arathia will get a job at Al Jazeera. Yoko is heading into marketing for the cosmetic industry. I will go straight forward into my old scientific career. Mark will stay in New Jersey and will commit himself to biology inside a bio lab. Miriam, the undecided one, doesn't know, whom to offer her skills. And Richard, the astrological cook will continue working for NASA at central Houston. THREE MONTH LATER. Its middle of October. I am sitting inside a cafe at the center of town. The medical treatments and the muscle building program have finally come to an end. I read the news. News of town. Discover a friend out of my old life, who is inviting for an opening at a gallery. #Parcours NO 1#. That is the title of the show. During evening, homeless people with sleeping bags will crowd the gallery space, while classical music feeds the ears. I search for political news and data of the entertainment industry, to get an overview of the economic changes from the megalopolises Dubai, Hong Kong and Shanghai. The waitress offers another cup of coffee, which I accept, while noticing a well known human being, as I take my eyes off the screen. I suddenly begin to hate the years on Mars. Begin to hate the routines and conditions of behavior. Begin to hate the psychological conditions. The second cup of coffee delivers a kind of relief, while letting the hybrid cars pass by the window pane. The traffic of Houston downtown. The reflections of the glass facades of the buildings at the opposite side of the street draw hard edges onto the table and the screen of the electronic newspaper. I know, I have to face a decision. Thats it. VI 2033 - 42 IN A GADDA DA VIDA. During nine years, John is in a transition towards adolescence. His neuronal data storages are ten times more elaborate. First love, bisexual relationships, drugs, a first class exam, escapes into european, arabic and asiatic countries. Starting a study of Neurophysics and politics. His first apartment. As Yoko's steps back into his life, the world condition has dramatically changed. More than ever, influential elites control the entertainment industry. The food resources are traded with high prices on the global market. The roles of the national governments are limited. There are even more disputes at the borders of the enclaves. And the security surveillances have become unbearable. Human motion can be tracked on meter scale. Chips are woven into clothes, into communication devices, inside homes and inside public transport vehicles. Johns capabilities are only known by the crew from Mars. Yoko kept silent after her return. As expected, for the upcoming space flights no scientists are needed, but mediators of the entertainment industry, to stabilize the expanded net of economy. Johns friends are fulfilling the tasks of the global condition, are securing their positions inside the political elites, or follow social relations, which hardly differ from those of evening sitcoms. He gets visits by Sarah and Sammy from time to time. I call him once a year, while Yoko followed his tracks towards Paris. Her instinct as a mother kept permanent contact with John. I have hidden in London. A city I have never been before. I am exploring the Tate and the British Museum. Taking my time at the libraries and inside the Cafés, take notes and scribbles.
  9. 9. After three month, I even find a small studio. The fragments of memory of Mars and of the village are dispersing with this new found life. Over saturated spaces in oil begin to explode on the canvases. Something like a flowing space-time condition enters my habits. VII - 2042 - ME IS THE OTHER. Its the twenty third of December. Full naked, John is watching his penis at the mirror inside the bathroom. A full erection mirror image. Freud is laughing. Self reflections, that are as old as humankind. The hunt is opened. Excluding the uttering consciousness. Sometimes a ray of light finds its way through the rooftop window. Followed by grey winter clouds in between brightness and excitement. Testosterone is running in circles between the endings of the synapses, while the white substance of sperm appears at the end of his glans. Sticky protoplasm. The arousal is followed by exhaustion. John dries the wetness with a towel. His eyes full of adrenaline. Something uncontrollable. Symphonies are not in fashion. No superpositions. No simultaneous events. But rather fast transmitter pushes. One after another. The telephone rings. Its Steve. Also a student of neurophysiology, whose political imagination is rather limited, but has developed complementary strings for art, to change his brain into a golden section. Brain editing. "I am at the club tonight. So around ten. Can we meet?" John smiles. Steve is persistent, extremely heterosexual, but always needs a male companion, to follow his steps to make contact with the female world. "Lets see. At the moment I am in the bathroom to strip the condom." Silence "Hello?!""Thats not how precise I wanted it to know it." "Now you know it!" "And?" "Lets see, if the oracle tells us a short story at ten o´clock." Click. The glossolalia phone signals end. The display of numbers echoes its numeric neon green before finally hitting the memory channel. John takes his boxer shorts, pulls it below his sporty belly, puts on his jeans, grabs for the white shirt, while walking towards the kitchen. He fills coffee into the espresso machine and closes the buttons of his Levi´s 501. He smells like a twenty four year old one, whose mystery is the control of his transmitter acceleration, while at the same time pretending to be a casual grown up on earth. Coffee is running like a thick sludge into the white cup. Its eight o´clock. Time in transit, while under focus. If Walter Benjamin would have taken Zen-Buddhism into consideration, his passages would have been shorter, than published. TV-news return automatically and report new turmoils at the border lines of the enclaves. Parallel events in China, India, Texas, Mexico-City. Followed by the prices of consumer goods and food. John switches to Channel twenty-two. An indian moderator announces french chansons live from Delhi. Same as ever. John wrinkles his forehead, takes the remote control and looks for his bank account, that may save him some synapse killers for the evening. Its ten o´clock. The club looks like a sauna. Heterosexual and gay couples and some singles treat their skin under sweat. Sheltered by white beach robes, they waddle like penguins between the shower and the cabins. Mid forty agers and loafers in a row. John and Steve decide, to jump into the pool, enjoying the warm water, while steam rises above water level to relax their thoughts. The sweating cabin is filled with male and female bodies, awaiting the opening of their pores. John slides onto an open spot of the wooden bench. On the oven, black stones turn to red
  10. 10. glowing, while John is searching for a female counterpart. But the most common conversations noticed are circling around the topic of children or around likes and dislikes. Johns searching flirting eyes get no response. He cant stand for long the space of torture and looks for the next cold shower. A woman next to him looses her consciousness. May be she had no feeling for the time span. While everyone seems looking for something, the rule of the game seems restricted at the same time. Steve and John meet at the small bar set up in the center, between the loafers and the towels of the visitors. As John tries to start his neuronic acceleration, Steve prevents him from doing so. Unsatisfied, they head towards the locker room for leaving this place towards Johns apartment. The apartment is covered with stapled books and washed clothes. The few furniture pieces disappear under the load of information and knowledge. "Another coffee?" "Why not! But basically, I am disappointed of so little interest in passion." "Passion and desire have been killed by rituals of consumption" "No Madame Bovary with a kimono robe?" " No Flaubert flambé!" " I will probably end up as a software programmer inside a museum!" "Come on, you still don't know, if the turmoils at the borders will swap." "Will swap into the calmed consumption." fills Steve the sentence. "Especially inside the heart of our calmed consumption, nobody knows, what will happen next. Its like being inside the eye of the hurricane." VIII - 2050 AIKO. John has earned a job in New York. "Design for interactive fluid devices and handheld options" Thats the exact description. Based on the reciprocal behavior of psychological moods of consumers, feedbacks and profiles will be synchronized. In nanoseconds, possible needs will be televised. John is designing the interactive devices for the multinational corporation "Editrac Inc", which consists of the main departments: food, entertainment and pharmacy. As bonus, he got a two room apartment in Brooklyn. Compared to France, his life not dramatically changed. Life and its tasks seem like routines to him. Like mathematical routines of daily information and commodity culture. The ecological and social turmoils are solved by task forces of the transnational corporations and the remaining national governments. IX - 2053 EMILY. (notes of the electronic diary of John, being found two years after his disappearance). Home is a place, where it smells like coffee during morning hours. Where children's voices are dispersing with the monotone sound of the electronic typewriter and the summing of the computer. If I wouldn't have moved, I wouldn't have seen clearly. One part of my soul loaded, the other like a plain desert. These two parts have wrought like two brothers. Now they are united at the beginning.
  11. 11. After I have unpacked the food for the weekend and have stored it in the cupboard, Monica, our only guest descends down the stairs. A bit sleepy and dozy, a "morning" leaves her lips. Emily, my wife, is absent, while the telephone rings twice. Its Shaun, who offers me a job. Nothing special. There is a discrepancy with the Smith and their landlord. They are unable to pay their lease anymore. If I could mediate. I accept and leave a notice on the desk for Emily, take the jeep, I have bought from the rest of the fellowship and drive towards our neighbor´s farm. AT THE NEIGHBORS. I always thought, Emily and I would live at the low limit. The inside of the Smith´ farm taught me something different. As irish immigrants, Robert and his family waited endless on their green card. Nobody wanted to offer a job to Robert, except Harry´s Bar, who made him pursue some weekly beer transports. Roberts wife, a red haired irish cleverness, his three children, he, a bit clumsy, but warm hearted. A word, I've forgotten a long time: warm hearted. Robert delivers me his story, and I promise to take action. THE TASK. THE BUSINESS. The property owner is backed by the lobby of town. It will not get easy, to defend the rights of Irish without any means against the capital of the city. As I try to get an overview at the land registry, I discover that most of the properties are assignments out of unpaid leases. Murphy runs two casinos in town, whose profit is not small. There I have to take action. To attack the opponent at his Achilles heel, his most vulnerable part. Unexpected and by surprise. INSIDE HEART OF DARKNESS. The doors of the casino are secured by muscular guards. As living cash machines, they check main entrance and exit. Do I get in, I also get out. Thats immediately clear. Too much profit isn't expected. Thats part of the business. "Gamble away your stake" always had been the slogan and the profit of the one and the loss of the other. Loss means no game. Small profit guarantees psychological satisfaction. The seemingly balance will be kept. The game will continue - again and again. The more brave ones send thunder and lightning. THE CHILD INSIDE FOREST. I have decided to help. In my own way. Some didn't understand, or pretended, that I am an ex terrestrial, who neither understands language, nor the system of numbers. But all have been wrong. If I had not landed in this provincial town in the age of forty five, my life had disappeared inside a misty fog. A forest would have grown. Me buried inside. I decided for a new start, took the invitation and the fellowship. Wanted to bring the anthology of the short stories to an end. Subleased the apartment in New York, took Emily by the hand and we hit the plane. After two years, there is no regret. The fellowship has ended. The book will be published next year. The art of traveling has ended. The short trips to the supermarket remained. I have separated from Aiko in New York. She wanted her own life. Our common child, she took with her. Didn't expect anything from me. Thats why I decided. It had only been a matter of time. Daily life inside this american wilderness is now filled with privacy. Unhindered of short time events, political news or turmoils at the walls of the enclaves. I am thankful, to be taken out of the machine of writing. Of being able to take constructive action. THE TOWN. The town with its two and three level buildings along Main Street appears like any other city of mid west. For european circumstances an endless optimism is being reflected
  12. 12. the eyes of its inhabitants, believing into the circulation of goods, its exchange as the only form of making sense. Except Shaun. An intellectual refugee from New York. Manhattan has hit him so hard, that he took a job as a teacher. He sometimes makes fun of my sprouting optimism. But he became our closest friend. He helped us to manage the leaned time after we bought the jeep. Emily and I had for three month no cent in our pockets, while Shaun helped us out with cans of meat and soup, coffee and cigarettes, until the advance cheque from the publisher arrived. He honored us as his "american pupils", later his "protégés". We thankful invited him three times a week to join our humble meal. Thats how the symbolic exchange was sealed. Nobody expected, that I would take action into social matters. TIME JUMP. I leave the casino and enter the glaring light on the street, without having spent a cent. The suspicious eyes of the muscle guard still in the back of my mind. I head directly towards "The Illinois Review" on the opposite side of the street to publish an ad. "THE CASINO IS RICH. WHY ARE ITS GAMBLERS SO POOR" as its content. Maybe I expected a refusal of the responsible editor for small ads, who scrutinizes my appearance. As if I would have been a species of the sixties protest movement. There is no nuclear deposit, no nuclear recycling plant and no military airports within hundreds of miles. Even eco fighters are seldom seen, after the land rights of the only existing coal mine have been given back to the indians. A Coop now handles its contract for the simple transaction. Thats why the new owners don't have to pay regress debts for the land. The few eco fighters had to acknowledge, that the indians had to earn money. As the editor now looks at me , as if I am a fool or stupid, or both, doubting, that a stranger is posting such an ad. After I took the exit, I feel the gaze of the muscle guard at the opposite side of the street following me. I cross again the street and head towards Mary Lane Street to one of the two lawyers. After five minutes, I stop in front of a nameplate which says: LAWYER, PHD. The PHD is a bit flaked off, so that only P D is readable, reminding to the name of a hip hopper out of another decade. Inside the lawyers office, a bit musty room, I approach towards a frustrated species of mankind. Maybe his service is seldom needed? He points towards a yellowed poster, which says: "WHY?" and tries to guess my reason of visit out of my faceless expression. Though he fails in his ambition, I hit the nail by offering him the cause of the Smith, the connection between casino and land-rights, without telling him about the ad I just have posted at the "Review". In hope, to get closer to the towns secrets, he starts: " See, this is a small city. Everyone knows everyone, and most of them speculate on the income from the casino. It pays most of the taxes. Nobody would dare to make trouble with McMurphy, the owner. He even wants to invest in a motel for tourists in transition on the way east or west. The investment for the construction plan is made possible by one of the casinos and the leases of his land. Thats money delivered directly into city`s tax budget. Here are few jobs available. Thats why everyone trusts McMurphy and gamble their dollars in the casino. Even the mayor." The mayor. Him, I haven´t thought about. I leave the office, to expect the release of the "Review" at Friday. IN BETWEEN THE CHAIRS. During the following days I get this feeling, I already know from Europe and New York called: "sitting in between two chairs". As the electronic newspaper is broadcasted the following day, Shaun is calling and asks if I´m crazy. This would not help the Smith in any way. If I plan a revolution. I only wanted to the test some basic mood and its feedback, I reply. Shaun is irresistible and regrets to have asked me for help for it. I call the Smith, if they have any news: "We are asking you not to intervene any further. Our contract is cancelled." "Is it so simple?" I insist. If they are not interested, how the lease is get used and if they would exchange their home for a motel. It doesn't make sense. Emily returns from the
  13. 13. supermarket. She has been mobbed by Judy, if I would plan to write a communist manifesto. Hiding behind my desk and murmur "I have to fine edit my short stories". Some minutes later, the lawyer phd calls and offers help. Without fees. Tax free. An agreement over phone, Emily swings a letter in her hand, while leaning at the doorframe. "The publisher has delayed your book. They want something more controversial. Without any additional budget." I don't know, if my mood is rising or crashing onto the floor. If I am going to win or going to fail. I suddenly realize, I have to count the colors. THE CHILD, THATS CLIMBING. In between the rocks, taking a seat, jumping and stepping back after the rain has gone. The light draws sharp contours, like edges of glass, devising them from baby blue of the sky and its windswept sonic clouds. Down in the park, the trees endure their existence, whose only communication could be, to give the leaves a special direction. Being moved by the wind. No time could be earlier or later as this moment. While my heart beat takes a breath and moves forward with a pulsing beat inside the machine, called time. It sometimes could stop, if I focus too much. I hear the birds, single cars, a motorcycle, a bus, that departs - down in the street. Here at desk - deathly silence. THE ROSE is the next move, I try, to save the Smith. Even if Shaun has warned me. It should look like a sign. I give my writing more colors. Red on Blue. Green on Orange. On my laptop I find an old program and draw a rose. The bath of life? The green meadow? The blue river? This I deliver to the editorial office of "The Review". With astonishment, the editor asks me, if I am going to marry. "No," I reply "I am looking for someone out of the past." "And thats you - isn't it?" he says.... X - 2055 - NEWS. Johns book "UNTIL THE EDGE OF DAWN" has been published by Random House. It became a lousy seller. Till John suddenly disappeared. Emily has reached me in between two openings with an electronic fax. Slightly filled with despair, she tells me, I have become a grandfather. My grandchild - nearly two years old. Emily moved back to New York. I mark a note for my seventy-fifth birthday. A small gap in between London and Singapore. Nothing gets lost inside the universe. Nothing will be added. The law of transformation. A universe, which swallows the eruptions and magnetic turbulences during long sequences of silence. Earth, a majestic planet. Mankind at the edge of self destruction will be a particle of dust. The electronic news are again and again broadcasting turmoils at the borders of the enclaves. Hundred of dead. Transnational paramilitary troops are on the front pages. I run through my lists. A senseless task. © PETER ALLEN "2035"