Daydream Believers - by Arun D Ellis - a compendium edition incorporating 'Insurrection', 'The Cull' & 'Murder, Money & Mayhem' - books 4, 5 & 6 in the series

Something in the Wind


Skies darkened over central London, lightning cracked and thunder roared as the heavens let loose a deluge of biblical scale. Everywhere the citizens of that great metropolis scurried for shelter from the sudden squall; some of them diving into the entrance of an old theatre. Then, as soon as it had started, the rain stopped; to be put down as yet another of the meteorological anomalies brought about by global warming.

Deep inside the theatre the Preacher prepared himself mentally before he strode onto the stage. He stepped onto his gaudily painted box; it was the one he used on London Bridge and it made him feel confident. He stared out at the sparse gathering, 12 in all, ‘not bad, a few more than yesterday.’ He pondered his approach, he never had a planned set, always played it by ear but he needed some inspiration. He looked around and saw a half eaten burger lying nearby and he had it. “GREED!” he yelled surprising himself; he thought he had given up the aggressive approach. A few heads turned. “We constantly gorge ourselves while others starve, while they scrabble around in the dust for a morsel before they begin their futile search for water. Yet we take our good fortune for granted; we are like the sinners of old who have turned their backs on their fellow citizens and soon the world will turn its back on us.”

Audible groans met his words and some of those who had sought shelter at the theatre entrance scurried away. A few remained; curious maybe or still uncertain of the weather, either way they stayed.

He cast his net wider, “We are so corrupted by self-serving greed that we don’t consider the homeless, the weak, and the ill. We glibly drop our coins in the charity boxes believing that we are cleansed, that we have bought some respite from the final judgment but we don’t see the truth - we are lost in the wilderness of selfishness and we need the desolation of despair to bring us back to the world of humanity.” He pointed to the heavens, “Global warming is just the beginning for it is one of the Horsemen that were promised - Judgment Day is at Hand.”

There were more groans and several of his unwilling audience drifted away from the entrance only to be met with another torrent of rain followed by a crush of people trying to get inside.

Heartened, the Preacher leapt off his box, left the stage and dashed up the aisle to the entrance where he tried to coax people further inside. At first, reluctant, they resisted his efforts but with more and more people seeking shelter they found themselves forced in. Finally, accepting the inevitable, they consoled themselves with the promise that they would make a run for it the minute the rain stopped.

He got back on his box, spread his arms and began afresh, this time for-going greed for a new tack, “The four horsemen are here and one of them is the complete collapse of neo-capitalism; the financial system has collapsed, we just haven’t accepted it yet.”

His eyes wide, he scanned the shadows of the room, where his audience, some seated, relaxed in their plan to wait out the rain, appeared to be either deep in conversations of their own or otherwise engaged with their phones. He still didn’t have them. He tried again, “And why is capitalism in its final death throes? Why is the world economy in ruins? Because our foolish leaders have for the past 30 odd years sold the naive theory of perpetual growth, an insane psychopathic theory based on nothing but whimsical day dreaming by so called economic geniuses.” He stepped off his box and moved to the edge of the stage, “These people only understand the simple parameters of numbers and equations and they have built our world on their restricted thinking, on their limited understanding of the world, and of nature and the natural resources that exist on this planet.”

One or two heads turned, interested in his comments on natural resources and the obvious links to global warming. He pressed on, "They see the world as a series of columns on a spreadsheet and they see people as resources put there for them to exploit and we, the people, allow them to behave as if this is acceptable." He paused, raised his hands questioningly as if inviting his audience to consider his words. They continued with their conversations.

The Preacher put his hands to his forehead and tried again, "Don't you see? The world has been here for billions of years, life has been here for billions of years but it is only in the last few decades that people have become slaves to the machine, the ever hungry, grinding machine of supply and demand, of servitude to the quest for more and more money whereas the true meaning of life is just to live your life."

He looked out into the audience, "Don't you understand!" he shouted. Some stopped their conversations and stared at him. He didn't care anymore; at least they might listen for a few seconds. Again he approached the edge of the stage, "Listen to me, please listen and examine your lives, think about what you're doing, how you're spending your time."

A couple in the front stared at him, they were holding hands, "Listen to me," he said catching their attention, "just for a minute, think, do you believe in god?"

The girl smirked and the boy shook his head, "No thanks, mate, we don't do the god thing."

"Neither do I," said the Preacher excitedly, "there is no god, no heaven and there is no hell."

"Right," said the boy. The girl looked behind her and pulled a face at someone in the next row.

"So tell me," said the Preacher, "if there's no god, no heaven and no hell, why do you spend your life travelling to work in a box, then sitting in a box for 8 hours a day before returning home in a box to sit in another box, watching a box until you end up 6 feet under in a box? For what? For barely enough money for your family, your children's education, your enjoyment?"

The boy grinned, "You gotta work mate, or you can't buy things."

"Nothing wrong with having money to spend," said the girl, snippily, "how else are you going to improve your position in life?"

"Madness!" yelled the Preacher reaching to the heavens, "Do you hear yourself? You were born free; free to wander, free to enjoy each day as your own, free to do with your life as you wished but you have allowed their conditioning to convince you that working in near slave conditions for the super elite is the natural way of things."

"Hang on a minute," said the boy, "I'm not a slave, I've got a good job."

"See," yelled the Preacher, reaching out to the others in the audience, "Social conditioning has blinded him to reality. You have all been groomed by the super-rich elite to do their bidding."

"Wanker!" said the boy, and the girl giggled.

"You have been tricked into thinking that what you do is necessary to make society run, but that isn't true, that isn't right, for societies have existed here on earth for millions of years."

"Let’s get out of here," whispered the girl, "he's annoying me."

"You don't see that the dull and mundane function you perform every day isn't even designed to be of any real use, it's only purpose is to make profit and the question you should be asking is, who benefits from that profit?"

"Leave it out, mate!" shouted someone from the back of the hall.

"Ah!" cried the Preacher, stretching his hand in the direction of the heckler, “Leave it out!” Everyone paused their conversations and looked a little worried as the Preacher ran around the stage repeating, "Leave it out!" at the top of his voice.

"Nutter," said the boy.

"Why do you work?" demanded the Preacher, spinning on the spot, "you work to make rich people richer. Why do they want to be richer? Because they want to live like Kings and Queens."

"To be fair, he's got a point," murmured the boy.

"And whilst they live their lives to the full, enjoying each day and each night to the maximum, living each second of their lives, you exist in stress and misery in your meagre surroundings."

"Commie bastard!" yelled someone.

"I want you to think about this," said the Preacher, "You were born into this world as free individuals yet you will spend your entire lives trapped in debt and economic servitude. Held captive by a system created by the wealthy and designed only for the benefit of the wealthy."

"Commie bastard," repeated the heckler.

"The rich live like gods, they live large on your labour. You will never be free all the while you play their game and work within the system."

"Nutter!" yelled the boy and the girl giggled.

"Am I the nutter?" the Preacher's voice rose, he pointed at the boy who squirmed at the unwanted close attention, "Who is looking the wrong way through the glass, me or you?" With that he spun off his box and disappeared back stage, leaving the theatre strangely silent and empty.



The Diary - Final entry



He opened his diary, not so much a diary more a notebook, dog-eared and abused from months of being bent into his pocket, his constant companion for jottings and musings and now this, his end note. He began to write, not his usual scribble but a slow movement across the page, dignified and portentous. ‘I know there will be consequences, not just for me but for my family, who love me. But all other options were closed to me and for me this final act is a culmination of all that has gone before. This record that I leave behind will ensure there is no avenue of retreat’ That bit was important otherwise he might bottle it, ‘I must act and my deed must be so devastating that others can find the strength to shake themselves from their media induced lethargy, so that they may also shake themselves free of this overpowering and suffocating slumber, this all encompassing nightmare. I do this to redeem others.’ He finished with a flourish and tossed the pen down.

He sat in silence for a few moments then he picked up his cup, sipping lukewarm tea with a grimace, reading what he’d written, smiling and nodding. Then once again took up his pen ‘…and so to the deed, its conception, planning and …’ he paused, unable to think of the right word, “enactment?”… No that wasn’t right” he tried the word out loud but it sounded no better, “completion, fulfillment…” he screwed up his face, “Ah! Execution!” he burst out, then he wrote it down, ‘execution.’

The book would be left in the room for the cleaner to find. Hopefully it would be handed in and not just tossed in the rubbish. He considered keeping it on him and handing it in himself after this final act but somehow, leaving it for someone else to find suited his sense of the theatrical.





Chit Chat




Why is propaganda so much more successful when it stirs up hatred

than when it tries to stir up friendly feeling?

Bertrand Russell

Alex logged into 'froMe2u', the new social network site that was taking over from its rivals at a rate of knots; everyone was banging on, if not about the bomb-damaged building site that was Wembley Stadium then about the sentences being handed out to the rioters. He clicked onto Jessica's site – she was bound to be in on this, ever since he'd first met her and that was in primary, she was always riled up about something.

Megan had commented ...should be locked up for eva for killing 2 coppers.

all cops need guns- from Dan. Alex laughed, a bitten off snort, I bet that sent Jess through the roof!

feral dogs - Pete with a direct quote lifted from TV; always an original thinker.

worse than dogs- Wilson; in copycat mode.

we need guns like US- this from Nate. Alex grinned; good old Nate, always on about the US.

yeah blow those fuckers away- Kingers; frighteningly hostile.

lazy scroungers- Lucy could always be relied on to bang on about 'lazy' and 'scroungers', the fact she’d not had a proper job since Uni obviously escaping her – again.

slobs claim £££ in benefits spend it all on drugs and all the kids they keep having - Dan, trying to creep to Lucy, so obvious it was painful.

deport them all to some island - could this be an attempt at original thought from Wilson?

waste of space serve no purpose - Dell was blunt.

they rioting cause that boy was killed in the pig sty i wud do same for my friend

what the fuck u on jess - Alex did a double take; even from Jess this was extreme. He banged out a response, not sure if she was still out there but one day she would get picked up for comments like that and despite her views, he liked her.

what you know about it you weren’t there you don’t live in their world - Jess's response was quick, forceful and practiced; she'd obviously been getting stick from elsewhere.

they not like us the gov says they scum - he typed fast, angry that she wouldn't listen to reason

He waited for a reply but Jess was silent. She’d clenched her fists and stormed out of her room to the toilet, they were really getting her annoyed. Why were her friends such fools? Couldn’t they see they were being manipulated? Everything was all wrong, their responses were over the top. She rushed back to her pc and checked the flood of incoming messages.

Jess you suck - Cliff. Pathetic.

thick - from Dan, who’d barely made the grade in a single exam.

drugged up leftie - Deep, Tom, really deep.

they killed two cops deserve everything they get should be killed - Scary Kingers.

your so off track again- typical from Megan

shoot them myself- from Dell.

not for the gov to suggest sentencing - Jess's fingers flew over the keyboard

you'd better not come down to my local young lady - from Bill. Bill? Who the hell’s Bill?

why not am i not allowed an opinion - she demanded, tell me that Bill, whoever you are.

grow up Jess - responded Dell.

not if it’s contrary to what everyone else thinks, and it’s what the government thinks, so it must be right - answered Bill, clearly he knew who he was

the gov said they ruthless gangs - Pete with more TV quotes.

oh so now you’ve got a hotline to the gov - Jess's sarcasm was biting.

they were rioting or did you miss that bit - Dell's response was immediate.

they cop killers all our police need guns to shoot on sight - Megan made her point again.

courts full of woolly minded leftie liberals like you who can't deal with criminals - Tom was on one against the Left, clearly.

who said they were criminals - Jess's frustration was bubbling over, leaving her breathless.

come on Jess, you must see they're criminals - Alex chipped in. He'd never known how to stop her in full flow but she was a danger to herself so he had to try.

of course they're fuckin’ criminals the gov has proof they drug gang - Wilson was determined to have his say.

they’re the gov and wouldn’t lie - Lucy's comment betrayed anxiety.

how do you know that luce - Jess was hoping to gain an ally.

bloody right too - Tom’s comments were just as annoying when typed, as when they met face to face. Jess ignored him.

they should bring back hanging get rid of these scum - Cliff raised the stakes

scroungers living off the rest of us - Megan had picked up Lucy's earlier point and the argument had gone full circle.

they should be herded together into special camps - Wilson was struggling now to say something new.

Are you mad that’s exactly what happened in Nazi Germany - Jess was furious,

im talking about the gov doin it - Wilson, defending his position

Hitler changed the laws first you idiot made sections of society out to be evil so it was the gov in germany that did it. just like here, today, and you lot are falling for it - Jess pounced swiftly,

they trying to protect society from lazy scum - Cliff argued.

point proved i think - Score 1 to me. Jess was seriously considering 'un-friending' the lot of them.

rubbish you leftie idiot these scroungers are draining the country of resources that’s why we can’t afford the nhs or anything - Tom had found some more energy.

you saying the poor are why we have austerity, that they've taken all the money in benefits?

that’s what the gov says - Megan commented comfortably.

they should arrest you as well you’re a rabble rouser no better than those scum- Wilson added, daringly. Jess was a thought leader and it wasn't often he felt this comfortable slagging her off.

hey Wilson that's enough - Alex sprang to Jess's defence.

yeah Jess why don’t you just get lost - Tom; getting childish now.

yeah Jess - Cliff jumped on the bandwagon.

they should throw all the lefties inside as well - Ouch; et tu, Lucy?

leave sensible people to get on with things - Dell banged it out, thinking to have the last word.

Jess tried to stem the tide but found herself unable to type fast enough, for every response she sent she got 3 back, “morons!” she shouted finally before switching off.

Have a good week

Cheers

Arun





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