Second Part of The Book

During the day, the green life sweeps the wet air from beneath, exiting the clay of the Earth and reaching for the heavens above.  The crooked branches of the trees, a least-thought perfection, stand as a symbol set against the midnight stars, when they shine through the smokeless skies.  The ideas of industrialization has starved the many and pocketed the few.  This Tree of Life before Shining Stars became their emblem, and the sign of the revolt!

               Dennis, Brian's younger brother died--or, was put to death two years ago.  After Tom failed to take him to the clinic, they came and took him from his crib, in the middle of the night.  Tom feigned that he forgot, and the matter was laid to rest.  Dale, a former preacher and the grandfather of Dennis, became unnerved by the killing, and invigorated The Citizens' efforts, taking his son-in-law and his daughter into stiff council, and taught them the very old way of life.  Both were part of the up-rise up to that point, but had been so accustomed to the ways of New World that they at first showed little interest to change.  The loss of their second-son at first made them gravely depressed, but then that depression turned into anger and then hate and then loathe.  By sheer consequence, The Citizens became a force to be reckoned with.  While other small groups of 'terrorists' wanted change, The Citizens had the one thing they didn't, and for that reason all joined in their alliance and pledged their allegiance.

After a life filled with preaching, WWIII changed everything.  Churches were now subordinates of the new government, and other respects too, laid privy to only teaching how the laws should be obeyed.  Dale was ousted as a heretic and stayed in hiding, but never forgot the old ways.  Tom joined the military at the time of the war, for the side of the Eastern Hemisphere.  They won and he quickly used his knowledge to gain access to high office, where his leadership skills out-manned his Physicist profession, placing him in the roll of an office-worker, instead of his intended of the work his Physics profession consisted of.

This the corporation got away with because of their pull and their staunch support of The Council.

Tom Weiss, a very private person, worked hard at the physical sciences office of International America, Incorporated, and the largest and most powerful innovative corporation still in existence within the realm of the last great nation, The United States of America.  The knowledge of the prayers in the dirty streetlights keeps him from resting at night.  With the thought of turning-in after a long day’s journey through a callous maze of soulless corridors, all he can think about is the Citizens.  With a corked-pipe, a match and crop, he would nightly lift his mutinous thoughts to the otherworld and listens to their prayers.

As an innovator of the clandestine group, Tom would have to burn the midnight oil, trying to read out The Council from control.  Seen as their final effort of a coup, the plan nicknamed Exodus, has been meticulously calculated over the past three years and has been scheduled for a week’s time.  While the nerves in the stomachs ache for the Citizens, from hunger, anxiety, or bullet, they can only wait and bide their time.  For in this chance of transgression, lie opportunity and a still better life for them all, Citizen or Regular.

The struggle seemed inevitable.  When the Third World War shook from the valleys through the atmospheres, someone had to be the victor.  The dominance came when the would-be solicitors of peace turned mad at the sign of another possible stand.  Chaos grouped the new party of the new rulers, and the fear of yet more loss, desolation, and turpitude turned them into selfish tyrants.  They are called The Council.

Tom, the principal operative of his building, was a man of an awakened heresy and erudite candor that begged to be caught.  His other-life fulfilled the void of its deceptive nature upon people, and, quickly, he became known, by the world of day and by the world of night, as un-imitatively important.  His cold eyes were partly sheltered by his tired lids, while his short-life work-habits moved before, after, and ahead of him.  The grace of his gait reminded some of thunder, and others of grace itself.  His adamant appearance worked others around him, desperately trying to imitate, though it shone only by his demeanor.  An un-extraordinary man of fifty-three, walked higher than his bosses themselves, but not by his typical-height, but by his unknown pretense, self-assurance, and worldly worth.

At meetings, his name phonated like death, but alluded them all to light; the members of his company's board spoke of a promotion for the fastidious "god", but something staid their hand, something made them sleepless at night when they "slept" on the decision, something told them he would wield too much power, and something told them that this man was not the man they knew at all, that this man could not be President of the great America corporation.

 Brian was beginning to become very restless of sitting in the den, at his self-proportioned-size desk to the one of his father's, that was installed in the very same room, reading Physics texts while his father played with a book of fiction, a Forbidden book to their vocation.  He'd crawl to his lap where he'd, once or twice, peep into the book his father was reading.  But it had no words and no letters, but his father seemed to study it all the more, and be all the more entranced in its wisdom.  With bifocals on his eyes, Tom would stare into its depth like a passage to another lesser-known world.  Brian would imitate this act by looking down, though through only his eyes and try to reap what's its author had sowed.  But, to him, still nothing leapt from its blank yellow pages.

The Book: synopsis

The Book

“It is written that there lies an ancient book that when opened tells you of your life: what will follow and what has passed.  If The Council lays hold of it, they will burn its crisp tatters to a nice ash, and destroy the Uprise once and for all.  These are their laid plans.  This is how they will remain in control, for eternity.  In the New World, where Lists are doled out and enforced, a tale begins of a hero and his journey in the fight for freedom.  Only he will know how to conquer and destroy The Council, but the mystery lies deep.  But help from the Mantags are on its way and soon it will become revealed to him.   Though he will learn the secrets of The Council and how to destroy it, Brian still needs help.  The Manogts are a small group and more stragglers must be gathered if they are to stop the evil reign of the controlling Council.

“The year is 2140 and all books now tell of the future: the History books, once telling of the wars and nation’s struggles of the pasts, long and short, are now outmoded and replaced with the Future books.  The Future books oppositely tell of the wars and nation’s famines that will come to pass, when they will occur, where battles will be fought, and who the victor will be.  But many have doubts as to the writers of those books and wonder if they have not been tampered with, altering the truth.  The other Books of Knowledge, too, follow along this path; and they too, share in the doubtful minds of soon to evolve Revolutionists.  It is no longer necessary to learn for learning’s sake, or so say The Council; in fact, this has become an act against the law and punishable by immediate death. 

“There are no worries about who will become what, in the staid minds—although all innovation and discoveries trickle down from the government and those with power.  All Citizens of the World are given Lists to live by: Morning Lists, After Morning Lists, Daily Lists, Weekly Lists, Monthly Lists, Yearly Lists, Decade-Lists and Life-Lists, with an occasional Emergency List if the government senses a struggle for power or a revealing of its true plans.  Citizens are now told when to die, and are supposed to surrender when their name is revealed in Tomorrow’s News.

“Everything the Lists tell, you should follow or pay the consequences.  The holograms in the living rooms, and the newspapers, graphically and verbally forewarn that The Lists should be followed.  What you will have to study is written on your birth certificate, and your schooling—apart from General Math, Basic Grammar, and Nominal Science—is limited to this vocation.  If you are to be a Physicist, you will study only Physics books, be allowed to roam only the Physics section of the library, and ask and answer only Physics questions.  Everyone else—the Futurians, Chemists, Oceanographers, Mathematicians, Grammarians, Accountants, Homeless or otherwise degraded, etc.—are forced to stay within their Line of Work.  In the bulletins of the news, small uprises are heard to be started and as quickly and vehemently squashed, hoping to spread fear to those that think of revolting.”

A book I started....

(On Earth, in the not so distant future.)

Where all things used to live and grow with verdant life, they are now marked only by barren steel and concrete.  Where most men have become obedient and controlled by the new Laws of the Land, there are but a few that still fight for the Old Ways and stand their ground!  Many are laid dying in that very act, right now.  Fighting for what used to live, for what used to breathe, and for what used to invigorate and inspire them, is all many have left.

They are the self-proclaimed New Citizens of the World, but their numbers are growing thin with every newly waged war.  Like the wild animals they are seen to be, who once roamed and conquered the barbaric world, they have now to be tamed and enslaved, or be made by extinction.  The stage of the Old Era, as all call it, has been set for destruction, but the memories have given them hope, and revenge has inhabited their souls.

As The New World Order rules with an iron fist and immortal weapons, a new inspiration is borne.  Since the War to End All Wars ended, the struggle for triumph or servitude has begun.

Question about writing...

Does anyone think that trying to become a writer is difficult?  I think it's one of the most hardest things; but who can say much about it, really?  I've written my first novella, but I am unsure about getting it to the market.

I wonder what other people are thinking....