Last Man in London, page 18
And its opposite number had been equally influential over the centuries. The suppression and indoctrination of members of the Islamic faith by its Imams and Elders, especially of its women and children, has been a central theme of that particular cult since its inception. It is also the only one of the main religions that lists violence towards non-believers as one of their ten practices. Jihad, which is translated as ‘struggle’ appears forty-one times in the Koran and is repeatedly called for. Moderate Muslims interpreted this practice as a struggle for God. But the moderate and peaceful Muslims were repeatedly out numbered during the course of history. Jihad, or holy war, against Christians, Jews and Hindus had been continually called for throughout the centuries.
According to the teachings of Islam, Judaism and Christianity no longer existed. They claimed that Islam had replaced them both, because they were newer and their information came from what they called the last, or final, Prophet. They regarded modern Spain and Portugal in the same way as the Iberian Peninsular had once been part of the Muslim Caliphate. And so central Europe would always remain a target for them and were thought of as occupied lands. The Main Board had to ban all of them to prevent the complete collapse of civilisation in the West. If it hadn’t then the place George, Hugo, Will, Tibha and everybody else was living in, by the year AI43, would have resembled Syria, or Afghanistan.
George looked towards the door to see Tibha and Hugo shuffling inside just as Will was leaving to meet Marnie at Waterloo. As Hugo sat down he placed Lord Kingston’s laptop on the table and George turned it on. Edgar looked at it carefully and realised he knew who it belonged too.
‘What’s on that?’ he asked.
‘I am just about to show you,’ George replied as he opened the files he had read a few days earlier. Tibha tapped out an order for some food on her hy-dev whilst Hugo looked through the wine app.
‘Did Solly give you this?’ Edgar asked when he had finished reading. ‘You already know that don’t you.’ George answered.
Edgar read the documents, sat back, took a large draw of his whiskey, lit a smoke and then said. ’The rich and the elite had been running the world’s economies for centuries,’ Edgar began. ‘Most of us realised that and it is why nobody really cared when the takeover happened. It was for the best, the world was in a terrible mess in the years leading up to it and the amateurs who were in government at the time had no idea how to deal with it. They only had short term objectives. Some plan or scheme that would take them through to the next election. What we needed was stability, strong leadership and financial freedom. The likes of Rothschild, Rockefeller and Baring, the bankers, they held all the power anyway and always had done. They were the ones who were financing everything. The Welfare State, wars, governments, the news feeds, the television programmes we watched, the music we listened to. They were the ones who would decide who could be a star. They controlled everything.’
‘The Eiderberg Group.’ Hugo suggested.
‘Yes, that lot.’ Edgar continued. ‘Until they disbanded just before the incorporation. Or at least I thought they had. I see from these documents that they simply re-branded. You know Lord Kingston was one of them don’t you?’
‘Obviously.’ said George.
‘It was nothing new,’ Edgar repeated. ‘They had been in charge for centuries. There had never been such a thing as real democracy; I have already told you that.’
‘Who hold the balance of the world? Who reign
Over government, whether royalist or liberal?
Who rouse the shirtless Patriots of Spain?
That make all Europe’s journals squeak and gibber.
Who keep the world, both old and new, in pain
Or pleasure? Who makes politics run and gibber?
The shade of Bonaparte’s noble daring?
Jew Rothschild and his fellow Christian Baring.
Those and the truly liberal Lafitte
Are the true lords of Europe. With every loan
Is not a merely speculative hit
But they can seat a nation or upset a throne
Republics get involved a bit
Columbia’s stock has holders known
And even the silver soil in Peru
Must get itself discounted by a Jew.’
George, Edgar and Hugo all stared at Tibha as she finished speaking.
‘Excuse me?’ George asked.
‘It’s Lord Byron,’ she replied. ‘The Twelfth Canto of Don Juan, his classic poem that was published in 1837 of the Old Calendar. I knew I had heard the name Napoleon before. But he is complaining that Jews and Christians were the true lords of Europe, the power behind every government or monarchy. We were taught during ASPP that Rothschild and Baring were the heads of the most powerful banks in the world at that time. And Byron was famously noting that they had financed both sides of the war Napoleon was involved with.’
‘The Napoleonic Wars.’ Said Edgar.
‘The Battle of Waterloo,’ said George thoughtfully.
‘I need a drink,’ said Hugo.
‘Don’t you see,’ exclaimed Tibha. ‘The major banks were controlling everything even as far back as OC1837, probably long before that too. Democracy didn’t really exist then either. A small number of financially influential people were in charge. Rothschild and Baring lent the French and the English the money to go and buy guns, horses and pay soldiers with. That’s what we were taught. And Don Juan, at least part of it, makes that point and has recorded it.’
‘And so there never has been a real democracy?’ said George.
‘No,’ Edgar agreed. ‘There never seemed to be.’
Meanwhile Hugo had been searching through Lord Kingston’s laptop for references to religion. Eventually he found the file called ‘Faith and the Future.’ As the others chatted about how the bankers had been financing governments and royal families across the western Empire for centuries Hugo clicked on the file link.
Faith and the Future.
There is no doubt that The Rapture will soon be upon us. We now believe that the return of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Second Coming, will take place between the years 2032 and 2042 after His death. God’s son will return to earth and take with him his chosen Jews and Christians. Our holy book, the bible, confirms this in several places. The Book of Revelation; 7:4 reads, ‘And I heard the number of them which were sealed: and there were sealed a hundred and forty four thousand of all the tribes of the children of Israel.’ The same book at 14:1 confirms. ‘And I looked and saw a lamb standing upon Mount Sion and with him were a hundred and forty four thousand, having his father’s name written in their foreheads.’
Therefore we are sure that only 144,000 souls can be saved at the time of the Second Coming, which was probably an accurate number. We know at the time the bible was being written that would have been more than enough to cover the number of Christ’s followers. But, in modern times, with the number of Christians in the world standing at around two billion, God faces a dilemma. He would have to choose. And we cannot afford to take the risk of any of us, or our families, falling outside that number. We have all sinned gentlemen. Now the time has come for us to make sure of our rightful place in Heaven alongside Jesus Christ, our Lord, and God himself.
This means Christianity and Judaism must no longer be an option for ordinary people. Religion will be banned by the new Corporation after a period of discrediting by our news channels. We will start with Catholicism, the oldest of them all, and their systematic abuse of children in their care. That should make many people ashamed enough to despise them. The religious war between the Christian West and Islamic East should be stopped immediately and the reason given is that there is no longer any need to fight an endless and bloody war between two banned ideologies. The public will be relieved.
The planned de-population programme, and the banning of religion among the western societies, should reduce the number of us faithful to fewer than a hundred thousand. This policy will present God with less of a problem when Jesus comes to choose the 144,000 of us who remain and worship his soul.
Hugo turned the laptop around and the other three leant forward to read. They all then sat in silence until Edgar said,
‘I fucking thought so. That virus was deliberate. They intended to sterilise everybody and then pick and choose who could have a reversal procedure. That way they could control the population at will. No wonder they withdrew us so early, somebody on our team would have found that out.’
‘They ended the holy war, banned religion and permanently removed the Islamic threat just to make sure that they themselves were among God’s chosen few?’ George questioned. ‘The maniacs. It was all done, the whole reform, the New World Order, it was all created just to make sure the wealthy few, who remained worshippers, would be taken to heaven by Jesus Christ during the second coming. It was never about money, or power, it was all for religion, their religion. That’s verging upon mental illness. It’s madness.’
Edgar started laughing. ‘But they are all dead now, and there was no second coming was there? And there is no Heaven. But the world is still a better place now guys, you can trust me on that one. It is ironic though, when you think about it. They were wrong all along and yet still banned religion, the scourge of society. Only they thought they were keeping it for themselves alone. That’s funny.’
By then it had become clear to both George and Hugo that the entire Incorporation, the restructuring of society, had been engineered by a small group of people who were not only the richest and most influential, but were also fanatically religious. The banning of religion had been for everybody else and, instead, remained their own privilege. And the de-population program had been for the sole purpose of making sure that at the time of the second coming there wouldn’t be two billion Christians in the world anymore, there would be around 144,000. The amount their holy book had given as the number who would be granted eternal life in Heaven. Mad, fanatical religious belief had led them to create a society they would be able to control. And at their command billions of people had become sterile and died childless in order to ensure their own place in heaven at the second coming.
George looked at Edgar for some time before finally asking. ‘So where is London?’
‘Who wants another drink?’ said Edgar, dodging the question but George was in no mood to be avoided.
‘Where is London?’ he asked again, a little more firmly.
Eventually Edgar slowly stood up and moved towards to the window, ‘come here, I have something to show you.’
All four of them stood at the window as Edgar pointed to the dome of the great Wren Memorial.
‘That,’ he said, ‘was St Paul’s Cathedral. It was designed by Sir Christopher Wren, which is why the Corporation gave it that name when cathedrals, mosques and churches were repossessed as religion was banned. And the Tower Castle, behind the bridge, used to be called the Tower of London when I was a boy. It has been there for over a thousand years. This is London; you have been here all along. You were born here, grew up here and still live here, in London.’
‘So it wasn’t made up by the fiction writers we are supposed to be correcting,’ said Tibha.
Edgar slowly shook his head. ‘I have just told you, the Tower of London has been there for over a thousand years. Your fiction writers have only been around for half of that. London pre-dates fiction by a very long time my love. It’s real alright. It is right there. It is all around you and always has been.’
Edgar sensed the shock as the information sank into the others. ‘Still, the world’s a better place I assure you.’ He told them. ‘We haven’t had the nutcases from any of the religions at war for decades. With anybody other than each other in the Middle East, that is.’
Tibha looked across at George who was gazing into the distance, far past the dome of St Paul’s and was listening to Mira laughing. She reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly and as he turned to face her his bright, blue eyes were wet and shining. A small tear appeared in the corner of one of them, which he gently scraped away with the nail of his thumb.
‘I am so sorry George,’ she said softly. And then she leaned across and held him tightly around his neck, gently stroking the back of his head.
‘I’m so sorry Georgie boy.’
Chapter Twelve
The following morning George took his coffee out onto his balcony and sat looking out over the western half of the Complex. It was cold and a frost had gathered overnight on rooftops for as far as he could see. He poured a little brandy into his mug, lit a smoke and thought about Mira. He remembered the uncontrollable laughter, the hopes and dreams she shared. The music they listened to and the stories he told her. Mira would sit and listen to George telling stories for hours and hours. ‘You must write your own book,’ she repeatedly encouraged him, ‘you say such lovely things.’ And he also remembered the lies, the deceit and the drinking. Sure, nobody was perfect, he reminded himself. He was far from that and yet she was as close to it as he had found, so far. And now, well now all that laughter, happiness, spirit and her innocent optimism would soon be scattered on a beach in Cape Town. Dust in the sand. It was her favourite beach. It was their favourite beach. Mira would never leave there now. And George would never go there again. With a heavy sigh and troubled heart George stabbed out his smoke, picked up his mug and turned back into the apartment.
‘Oh, there you are,’ said Tibha as she walked from the bedroom wearing his dressing gown and stroking her long, black hair with a towel.
‘Here I am,’ he smiled warmly at her.
‘I am on the 11-4 schedule today,’ She told him. ‘Want to meet in Harry’s later?’
George had been given five days compassionate leave by Mr Baptist and was not expected back into the work zone until Monday morning. ‘Sure,’ he replied. ‘I am going over to Granddad’s this afternoon, I have a few more questions for him, so I will be in the Wharf anyway. See you there at H18?’
‘Good plan, I am off tomorrow too, so we can have a relaxing day. Shall we do something?’
‘Such as?’ he questioned her.
‘I don’t know, you decide. As long as it doesn’t involve drinking all day in Harry’s Bar.’ She replied.
George really couldn’t be bothered to decide anything. ‘I will try to think of something,’ he promised.
‘And don’t drink too much with Edgar,’ she called as she disappeared into the bedroom, ‘I know what a bad influence he can be on you,’ she laughed.
‘And when exactly did you become my wife?’ he replied. Although not loudly enough for her to hear him.
’What are you going to do with all this information George?’ she asked as she re-emerged, fully dressed this time.
‘Nothing,’ he told her. ‘What is there to do with it? I can’t record it anywhere; the hy-devs automatically delete any new reference to religion or the original Corporation. I found that out when I was trying to make some notes last week. And you have seen how limited most of the information is about other things from the past. I can’t change that. I am not sure I want to either. What would be the point? I would like to hear granddad’s whole story though. And to learn something about my family; I know nothing of my father since he left. Granddad may know where he is. And to find out more about religion too. I am so curious as to how so many people, for so many years, could have been under what appears to be some sort of spell.’
‘Oh, blah, blah, blah,’ called Tibha. ‘Religion rubbish, why do you need to know any more about that.’
‘Because I need to, that’s all.’ George still needed to know everything.
Tibha blew him a kiss from the doorway as she left and he picked up his hy-dev and tapped out a message to his grandfather.
‘How are you feeling son?’ Edgar asked George as he walked from the elevator.
‘I have been better,’ he admitted, ‘but I’m doing ok.’
‘Is it too early for a drink?’ Edgar pointed to the wall clock.
’It’s past midday isn’t it,’ George grinned as he picked up a couple of glasses and thumped them down into the big, old pine table. ‘Make mine a large one.’
Edgar carelessly half filled both glasses and handed one of them over. ‘I can’t stop thinking about her,’ George said sadly.
’Mira?’ Edgar replied. ‘It will take time son. Try and focus on the happy memories, the ones that made you laugh. Try to look back fondly rather than sadly, or angrily. Be grateful for what you did have and not resentful of what you found out.’
‘She lied to me. She was lying to me.’ George was angry.
‘And so does everybody George. Ninety-five percent of the people who cross your path in life don’t really give a damn about you. It may even be a higher percentage than that. That’s life. Just concentrate on the few who do. That’s all that really matters. Be a giver and not a taker. And that way you will never be troubled by those who only take. They become irrelevant to you, a mere distraction and nothing else.’
George sipped on his whiskey. He wasn’t there to talk about Mira. ’Is there anything,’ he asked, ‘anything at all that could be good for our society if the population was allowed to grow back to something like the levels it was before Incorporation?’
‘No, nothing at all.’ Edgar replied. ‘Seven billion people were far too many. The predictions at the time were that number would have been trebled by now. Imagine that George, right now, out there, more than twenty or even thirty billion people running around all over the place. You don’t even like it when someone sits next to you on the subway. In the old days we all used to have to stand, shoulder to shoulder, crammed in we were, like pilchards.’
‘Like what?’ George had never heard of tinned pilchards.
