..........................................................PALM...................................................................

Chapter 7 - "House"

Stroke finished loading the truck by himself while Anelan slept. There was no reason to
take everything back to his place. In two days there would be another meeting, after dinner,
perhaps a little dessert and coffee would be good. The partitions stacked well, out of the way
against one of the far corners, they would not be a problem to other people who might want the
hall for a different purpose. But he left the mirrors set up. It had taken a long time to get them
aligned, it seemed a waste to disturb the alignment if he didn't have to.
There was enough food left, supper would be easy tonight even for two. He decided to
put the coffee pot in the truck (a good machine this, he thought). When he was done he woke
Anelan who slept so deep she could not remember where she was for a few seconds. But she
felt safe enough not to be scared, he liked that. Outside the fog was closing in, they could hardly
see the street light on the far side of the other building.
"Do you have children, Stroke?" she said as she climbed slowly into the truck.
"My son would have been two years younger than you if he had lived. Both he and my
wife were killed in an airline accident fifteen years ago."
"Oh! I am sorry, Stroke."
"It's OK, Anelan. It took a long time to grow past that...The weight of that memory has
diminished a lot. Airplanes are absolutely wondrous things to fly. I still love flying. I am not a
pilot, but I could spend almost any amount of time flying, suspended in mid air, watching the
earth spin underneath. However, when airplanes fail, it can be horrendous beyond belief."
His right hand was resting on the knob of the shift lever. She reached out and squeezed
his forearm.
They drove slowly for a short distance to Stroke's place.
"This is your house, huh? I can see you sometimes from my window up the hill."
"Please disregard the mess which extends in all directions, Anelan, but I would rather
walk the beach than do almost anything else. I pay very little attention to this place, just enough
to keep it from collapsing from the weight of the cobwebs."
"Can't be that bad, Stroke"
"Maybe, but close."
It wasn't that bad, but it was close. The front yard looked abandoned, like everyone
else's nowadays. The garage to the side of the house was a separate unit which had been
handed down from one owner to the next, each fully intending to do something about it,
someday... The old doors had partially separated from their upper hinges and were propped shut
at odd angles. As they entered the house, Anelan asked:
"You live in here, Stroke?
"No, Anelan, I live out there, at the beach, in the mountains, outdoors as much as
possible. I sleep here, when I can't think of a better place."
"And I thought you were a minimalist, Stroke... almost empty Zen temple for a house... a
quiet place to meditate. This is far from minimalism..."
"No, Anelan, this is very minimalist. There is a minimal path open from the front door to
the kitchen. I can cook minimally well, but quite often I will spoon chili right out of the can
standing over the kitchen sink. That is very minimalist. There is a minimal path going from the
kitchen to the middle of the living room where I have a mattress on the floor, some good
electronics and a fine pair of headphones. Sometimes when I am not asleep I immerse myself in
music. If I am not asleep, listening to music or cooking I am probably at the beach. Sometimes
I take books to read at the beach. I do not know how to minimize my life below this level, or I
would try it." (mostly true, as far as I went, he thought)
"I guess I didn't realize how this pregnancy is changing my outlook. I am still living
indoors a large fraction of the time. I have become very concerned with feeling cozy, protected,
safe. I used to be more of an outdoor person 2 or 3 years ago."
"Hm... we have bread and vegetables from this morning and I have some fresh eggs... I
can make an omelette if you want, there is plenty enough for both of us... but if this is too
cluttered maybe we could go to your place instead... what do you want to do?"
"I think I want to stay here, Stroke. I want to see this as you see it. I am thinking of
finished forms, but this is not a house, this is a process."
"I would think of it as a titanic struggle between the force of life and the force of entropy,
and at this point entropy is definitely winning."
"Entropy is a measure of disorder in the universe, right Stroke?"
"Yes, for non living things. But life forms build order out of chaos and thumb their noses
at entropy for a while. Entropy catches up eventually and we go back to being disorganized
clumps of atoms. While we can, let us merrily thumb our noses at entropy. How about a good
omelette?"
"I think I could eat a horse a right now, Stroke, but an omelette will do just fine. Can I
watch?"
"Only if you don't comment on my cooking style."
They ate in the living room. She sat on the only available chair and put her plate on the
corner of a desk. Stroke had to move several stacks of magazines, loose notes and notebooks
to make that room available. He did so very carefully, to her surprise. (there is more order here
than I realize or than he lets on, she thought). He ate with the dish on his lap sitting cross legged
on the nearest corner of the matress.
"How are your buns, Stroke?" she said, halfway through her dinner.
"Fine, thank you, Anelan. No problem sitting as you can see. Not yet, tomorrow a little
bit, maybe."
"Was that really your first time to get paddled from both sides?"
"Yes...just like I said."
"With all these books and notebooks and drawings, I would expect you to have a working
spanking machine ready in less than two weeks..." (a shot in the dark..., she thought).
"I have thought long and hard about that and I started to build things like that, several
times. A machine has far more control than a human, particularly with thin canes, rods or bars.
But I am really into paddles and the buns are round and human spankers can be so good.
Guarnea was just great. By the second stroke it was obvious. But Eletina was the surprise. She
was not as good at first but she was the equal of Guarnea at the end. Fast learner. Her arm is
going to be sore tomorrow, though. She is not in shape like Guarnea."
They finished their meal. Stroke walked to the far left side of the mattress and
rummaged around until he found the end of two long wires that disappeared under books and
cardboard boxes. He connected them to two other wires that he found a short while later. Then
he went to a rack of electronic gear at the far right side of the mattress and switched it on. He
turned to Anelan.
"What kind of music would you like to hear?"
She thought about it for a while.
"Perhaps some Mozart?"
"OK, my mood is near that and we just finished eating... Would you accept some Haydn
piano sonatas. Something light."
"Please"
Stroke liked his sound pure, one could have thought the piano was in the room, except there was
not enough room even if the mattress had been removed.
"Thank you" she said with a smile as they both closed their eyes and submerged in the
melodies and harmonies.
When it ended their senses slowly came back to Stroke's living room.
"You really like good sound, don't you, Stroke?"
"Yes, if at all possible, including the sound of paddles on willing buns."
He crawled over the mattress toward the electronics and paused to ask her:
"Do you want to hear something else?"
He didn't realize, or perhaps he did, that his shorts had wedged between his cheeks and
that a very red right cheek was now in full view and consuming Anelan's attention.
"Anelan?"
She took her eyes of his reddness and looked at him:
"Would you help me get up from this chair, Stroke? I have not peed since this
afternoon."
He sat at the far end of the mattress by the electronics waiting for her. She came back
after several minutes, but instead of sitting in her chair again she leaned on it as she lowered
herself slowly to the mattress.
"You know what I see here, Stroke" she said with a wink.
"No, Anelan, please tell me." (hmm, he thought)
"I see a naughty little boy who starts all sorts of interesting things and never finishes
them. And, although he was properly paddled today, he still has not finished what he started."
"Maybe you should give me a hint, Anelan." (who am I to say no, hm?)
"I told you this afternoon that you made me very wet between the legs and you have
done nothing about it. Do I have to paddle you again?"
"I wish you could, but my buns can't be rewarmed now for many days, which is too bad
because it would feel so good to kiss your pussy with my butt in flames, up in the air, well
stretched out."
He put his pillow in the middle of the mattress and she rolled on to it. With the pillow
raising her pelvis she folded her legs, her feet almost by her butt, her knees almost together.
Then she tugged her skirt almost up to her waist.
Eyes closed, Stroke put his face between her knees and slowly moved down her thighs,
kissing, nipping here and there, caressing with his beard, until his tongue reached her labia.
With his face wedged between her legs, he flicked his tongue at the curls and tufts of hair, barely
touching her skin, teasing, just teasing... She opened her legs to let his face come closer to her
pussy, to let his tongue find her hardening clit, and gasped as they found each others' sweetness.
His tongue moved around her clit, around and around, from time to time making long excursions,
licking the inside edges of her labia, first one side, all the way down to her vagina, then slowly up
the other side, then, his upper lip bumping against the top of her hood, tugging hard, stretching
both labia at once while his tongue covered all of her clit in warm, wet strokes. Licking, sucking,
rubbing with his lips and with his tongue in ever faster circles. As she gasped and sighed in
pleasure he would break the circles to lick in long strokes up and down, up and down, above and
below and then over the distended edge of her clit... And he would go again back to circles and
again back and forth, focusing more and more on the sweet spot, sensing her impending
orgasm. Until she tightened her legs around his head and with a moan that was almost a deep
growl, began thrusting her pelvis hard, deep, his tongue licking faster and faster at the fully
engorged clit, lapping her sweet pussy juice... They moved clamped like that for many thrusts
and many more licks at her swollen flesh, while her throat made incoherently contented sounds.
Until she finally begged:
"Please... no... no more... I am starting to get sore..."
Her legs opened wide, relaxed. Stroke continued licking her warm, soft, swollen pussy.
"Please... Stroke... stop..."
He stopped.
"You taste so good, fat pussy."
"You made it fat, Stroke, here..." she guided his hand to her breasts. They were full,
swollen, tender. He stroked them gently, feeling the hard nipples in spite of her blouse and bra.
He crawled up to her face and gave her a kiss, pussy juice all over his mustache and beard,
tongue against tongue, wet, slobbery, delightful kiss. They wrestled the pillow out from under her
butt. It had a very large wet spot, but she turned it over and it was fine. He reached for his jeans
at the edge of the bed, rolled them up for a pillow and went to sleep nuzzling her right shoulder.
Tomorrow we should find another pillow, he thought as he fell asleep.
Several hours later he got up to go to the bathroom. He was very aware of his swollen
buns as he stood up. Then, returning by way of the kitchen he lifted the folded flap of a
cardboard box in one of the upper cupboards. (three red lights, three green lights...all is well, he
thought). He squeezed his buns gently and scratched them softly with his fingernails as he
walked back to the bed. Cuddling up to Anelan's warm back he fell asleep again.

Chapter 8 - "Eletina"

from the Archive of Manuscript Records
Notebook 1 of Karel Selth (1961-2043AD)

It was foggy and cold outside but the meeting hall was cheerful with conversation again. Stroke
had run an electric heater for a while in the afternoon and the old wood structure was
comfortably warm. Eletina arrived a few minutes before eight, carrying a large cardboard box,
greeted a few people, and started her preparations. She was careful not to move the mirrors that
were still set up from the first meeting. She took a long extension cord and an infrared lamp
from the box she had brought. She clamped the lamp to one of the metal folding chairs, aiming
away from the audience, and plugged it in. Then she placed a single wooden hairbrush on the
seat of the chair and with a nervous glance at the rest of the group, reached for the zipper of her
loose dress and removed it in a few easy motions. She was wearing an old fashioned black one
piece bathing suit that she had pinned together in back so that what usually would have covered
her rear was instead neatly tucked into the crack between her cheeks. The area of interest was
well outlined. She was of medium build and weight and projected the feeling of being centered
at her hips. She stood in front of the lamp with the hairbrush in her hands and her back to the
lamp. She drew nearer and nearer to the lamp, drawing the concern of those closest to her for
the safety of her skin. She looked back over her shoulder to catch some of their glances and
continued heating her buns moving slowly back and forth, up and down, around and around.
After a short while she turned toward the audience and concentrated her attention on heating the
hairbrush, back and forth, up and down, around and around... She had not spoken a single word
but her activities drew everyone's curiosity and they soon found their seats. She repeated the
warming of her rear, again warmed the hairbrush and looking up at the clock started her warmup.
The satisfying sound of wood on willing flesh soon filled the hall to the delight of the audience.
At the end of the first round her color was remarkably even and deep. She paused and started to
speak:
"I am a bit nervous tonight... I have never done this in public... but I am less nervous
than I thought I would be... good company. This is actually a demonstration of what not to do if
you want to retain your color for a long time, and I know many of you do. The hairbrush is quite
warm and so are my cheeks, it is really delightful how quickly and how far one can increase the
level of spanking when brush and bottom are both kept hot."
She turned her back as she continued to warm her rear and spoke over her shoulder:
"So, tonight I want everyone here to take part in my spanking, as I warm up we will be
deciding how many I should get from each of you. (several "yeah"'s and some applause from the
audience). When we are done I should have a very red bottom... very red... and yet, two days
from now I will come back to this hall and those of you who feel like it can check that there is
hardly any color left on my cheeks. ("oh, yeah?" said someone at the back of the audience).
Eletina continued: "Yes, if it is done very hot, and I will keep warming buns and brush quite often,
it will not last. The redness and swelling go away very quickly... Oops!" and looking at the clock
she warmed the brush very close to the lamp for a few seconds and started her second set. She
increased the level with enthusiasm, it felt like she was running out of arm power rather than
being limited by the feeling in her cheeks.
The second set had left her breathing hard, so she waited a short time and went back to
heating her buns and the hairbrush alternately while catching up on her thinking. Her color under
the regular lights of the hall was now an even deep red.
"How many people do we have here tonight? Did anybody count?"
"Twenty-three, I think" said Mauro and stood up to get a better count now that everyone
was sitting down. "...Yup. Twenty-three."
"OK, when I get done with the next set I will be at about three hundred, and just to keep
it interesting I don't want to go past about six hundred. What's that? maybe fourteen or so?
"No, it isn't" said a gruff voice from the back the audience to the sound of much laughter.
"Fifteen?" said Eletina.
"No, it isn't" said the voice. More laughter.
"OK, OK, how about sweet sixteen, that means eight on each cheek." said Eletina
A grumbling, dejected, drawn out "O...K...I guess" had everyone in stitches again. Even
Eletina laughed as she said mockingly:"O...K...one... more... set..." and took off on the third part
of her warmup. She was panting hard when she was done, but she was smiling, her cheeks were
bright red and felt so good.
"OK, now, the first four swats do not count so you get to feel the level I am willing to
take. Then, please start on the outside of the cheeks, reserve the centers for the finale and keep
them even. Then you have a choice of over-the-knee or lying down. Whichever you take, I want
them even, please." And with that, she walked to the back of the hall and brought back a foam
pad and a chair.
"Oh! excuse me, I would like to ask Stroke to be first and Guarnea second, if you don't
mind." she added.
"It will be an honor, Eletina, lying down please, but first warm them up again."
Without a word she warmed flesh and wood thoroughly, then stretched herself out on the
foam pad. Stroke knelt straddling her shoulders and took the brush from her hand.
On the first two swats he tried to match the level he remembered at the end of her third
warmup. "Harder, at least half again, please". Stroke obliged. She added: "I will probably ask
for harder as you go so don't go too fast."
"Delighted." said Stroke and landed four well spaced swats which thoroughly shook her
cheeks. He paused slightly to hear:
"A little harder, please"
The next four were harder, but not yet on the centers. She grunted contentedly after
each one. Then, going faster and harder, Stroke spiraled in to the centers. She groaned on the
last two and he waited motionless for her to savor the sting. With cheeks still burning she
thanked him. He helped her up so she could warm up again. She kissed him lightly and thanked
him again.
"I might want you to that again at the very end" she said.
"Feel free to ask, it will be a pleasure, Eletina."
Guarnea had seen Stroke cover the sides of her cheeks well but not the lower parts of
her lobes, so she asked for Eletina to go over her lap. Eletina complied after rewarming, her
rump bent over Guarnea's legs but a lot of her weight supported between hands and outstretched
legs, not passively draped. Guarnea tried a couple of strong swats almost down to the crease
and was rewarded with sharp "Ah!"'s and "You can go a little harder but not much, please."
Guarnea complied and starting from high up on each side spaced four swats evenly down to the
crease. Then going back to the middle of her lobes and repeated the four swats to each side,
now much more closely spaced. Eletina was about to get up when Guarnea stopped her with:
"You are not counting my practice four, I get two more, Eletina." Before Eletina could reply,
Guarnea landed the last two just barely above the crease. Hard, solid swats, greeted by deep
grunts. Eletina stood up and made little up and down motions on her feet, almost like shaking
the sting off, but really enjoying every nerve end firing in her butt. She grabbed Guarnea's hand
helping her up from the chair and said:
"Would you do that again in about two weeks or so?
"That and however many more you like, Ellie"
A deep "Good" came out of her chest.
Eletina was kept quite busy rewarming and switching positions to accomodate each
spanker. Stroke kept a close watch on the state of her cheeks and at one point remarked that
even though more and more energy was being poured into them, the color did not seem to get
much deeper than right after the first two or three spankers. But the way in which her cheeks
rippled after each swat showed that they were swelling and stiffening considerably.
Even Lydia and Chuck, who were both over seventy but would not say by how much, got
a turn at Eletina's red butt. He straddled and she asked for over the knee and all three were
pleased with the results. Eletina mentioned while massaging her stinging buns that they both
were in great physical shape. After the twenty-third application of a very warm hairbrush to a
very warm pair of cheeks Eletina was glowing, not just at her seat but all over her body. She felt
mildly flushed, happy, thankful for the good time her friends had given her. It felt so good...
She turned to Stroke and smiled as she said:
"I am tempted to ask for an extra dozen from you, Stroke"
"I think you should resist that temptation, Eletina, your cheeks are very swollen now and
I don't see how they are going to come down from this spanking in just two days."
"I think they will, even after going this far, Stroke, but you are right and I will resist the
temptation."
She walked to the lamp and baked her rump again for almost one minute.
Chuck was now standing:
"I would like to make a little comment on a very fine spanking. It's in the form of a multi-
purpose song that I thought of some time ago while walking very fast at the beach. It seemed to
fit the rhythm very well." His words drew a variety of very soft responses ranging from "oh, no!"
to quizzically raised eyebrows. He continued:
"It is based on the chorus an old, old tune, perhaps some of you remember, something
about a submarine..." and he started singing softly
"She's been spanked now
until her buns are red
so red and warm and swollen
so beautifully red"
The audience howled as they remembered the old tune and when he started moving his arms in
rhythm they joined in easily. It was good fun, and after one repeat, he continued
"We will spank now
until our buns are red
so brightly red and stinging
so swollen and so red"
He interrupted the laughter to add:
"You can do a lot with the lyrics and I hope you have a lot of fun with it, but now let's
hear it for Eletina." and he started clapping and was quickly joined by the rest. Eletina
alternately half hid her face in mock embarrasment and bowed with her rear to the audience
showing the results of all their labors.
When the laughter subsided Eletina said:
"I will be here again for your viewing pleasure Thursday night. Those who can make it
should see almost no color on my cheeks. I promise not to take long hot sitting baths, only short
showers until then. If my previous experience applies to this level the color will be gone."
Marilia spoke up:
"I would like to do my favorite thing in front of you all on Thursday night if it's agreeable.
Is that OK? I will need a little help so I will be asking for volunteers after the meeting."
There were a few problems with schedules as usual, but there was general agreement to
meet again Thursday night.
The meeting dissolved into conversational groups. Stroke and Anelan circulated
together to no one's amazement. One of the neighbors Anelan had not met yet, Arno Pekkinen,
was particularly friendly to her. But the few words he traded with Stroke about Eletina's
performance spoke too easily to be those of a recent acquaintance.
As they were leaving, Mauro and Guarnea were ahead of them and Stroke stumbled on
the back of Mauro's shoes. He stopped his fall by grabbing Mauro's shoulders, his head almost
hitting Mauro's neck. In the split second before he pulled away from Mauro he whispered in his
right ear:"Wait for us outside, in the dark." Mauro reached back and steadied him with a
noncommittal: "You all right, Stroke?".
"I'm fine Mauro. Sorry. Clumsy, that's all."
Outside the fog had closed in, the building lights good for only a few feet before they
became a dim glow and then dissappeared. Other voices could be heard, muted, seemingly
distant. They almost bumped into Mauro and Guarnea, Mauro was the first to speak.
"What is going on?"
"Let's just walk together a little ways, Mauro, humor an old man..." and he put his arm
around Mauro's waist and after a few steps leaned his head into his shoulder and whispered in
his ear.
"We have been and possibly still are under surveillance. I don't know who or why yet.
You know where the kid's fort is, down the beach?"
Mauro grunted a "yes" and Stroke continued:
"Get Stav and Cala. We will meet you there in about one hour. Don't talk about this
inside your house or Stav's. Dress warm, we may be out there a while."
"You OK, Stroke?" asked Mauro (what the hell?)
"I am fine, Mauro, believe me, I am fine."
"Are you sure?" repeated Mauro, still thinking: what the hell?
"Yes, I am sure. You guys go ahead, Anelan and I will go a little slower, I am fine."
Mauro and Guarnea said their good nights and faded into the fog.
Before Anelan had a chance to say anything a soft voice behind them said:
"You OK, Stroke?" it was Arno.
" I am fine, Arno" and as Arno drew even with him Stroke whispered in his ear:
"Kids fort, one hour"
"Good night, Stroke, good night, Anelan" he said as he walked ahead into the fog.
"Anymore, Stroke? Would you clue me in a little?" Anelan was miffed at being so
puzzled. Something going on between Stroke and Mauro? Arno? Stroke stopped and pulling
her toward him embraced her tightly his face buried in the scarf covering her ears.
"There was a bug, a monitor, on one of the ceiling cross beams, not even very well
hidden. Arno saw it too. We may be under surveillance now. Mauro will get Stav and Cala and
we will meet at the kids fort in an hour. Good thing it is this foggy."
They kissed lightly on the lips and walked on slowly.
"Are you warm enough, Anelan?"
"I am fine, Stroke"

Chapter 9 - "Fog"

from the Archive of Manuscript Records
abstracted from the Diaries of Anelan Sanger(1985-2057AD)

Anelan and Stroke walked along the surf, its sound was slow, muted, even the sand
under their feet was quiet. Above the fog bank a full moon may have been shining because the
darkness was not total. Their eyes could see well their own shapes and the foam of the surf,
there was no need for the flashlight. They were close to the fort now and a little early. They had
talked a little as they walked. Who would want to spy on their meetings? Why? Who was there
who wasn't at the first meeting? What were the reasons given for not being at the meeting, were
they good reasons? Was Stroke telling everything he knew? Stroke interrupted her thoughts:
"As few words as possible when we are at the fort. After we meet we will walk further.
The bug was a little too obvious, maybe to get us to go somewhere else. With surf and fog and
walking we may have privacy."
She hadn't thought of that. It seemed reasonable to her.
The beach curved to their left and Fort Horny (she liked to call it that) was suddenly in
front of them. They stopped to listen, apparently the others had not arrived yet. They walked
back in the direction they had come for a minute or so. Anelan asked about Arno and Stroke
talked about him a little. They had met a couple of years ago further down the beach, two old
men looking at the sunset. Traded a few words, found that Arno lived about half a mile south of
Stroke's house, found similarities in their outlooks and had visited each other fairly often since.
(not often that one makes a formal first acquaintance with an old friend of more than fifteen
years, thought Stroke) (sounds not quite right to me, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt,
thought Anelan)
Where most people exist in the space of their living and would rather that time did not
flow any faster than it had to, Arno was a man of time, almost unconcerned with space. A man
of few words, he was absorbed by the flow of time and history so completely that his remarks
could sound oddly inept at times unless you knew him. For him many situations involved so
much of the past that the easy responses expected in many conversations were simply too
limiting and therefore difficult for him. He couldn't quite bring himself to explain all of the
complicating factors, so he would try to abbreviate and synthesize his knowledge and that didn't
always get done in time. Of necessity, he was a very quiet person. They had some very good
conversations, because Stroke was willing to wait for him to finish his thoughts.
The sound of voices on both sides put the conversation on hold, they walked back to the
fort. Mauro and Guarnea arrived behind them. Stav, Cala and Arno had come on a trail that
started not far from Arno's house and led directly to the fort. As soon as they were in sight of
each other, Stroke led with:
"Let's walk down the beach a little, shall we?"
As they walked Stroke described the bug to Arno, Stav, Cala, Mauro and Guarnea. He
gave the reason for continuing to walk and after a short while stopped so they could talk more
easily.
"OK, we are beeing watched, I am uneasy but I don't feel threatened yet." said Mauro
"Maybe I don't know enough yet."
"Can you help me list the people that were at the meeting Sunday but not today?" asked
Stroke.
Six names made the list.
"How many do you think had honest schedule conflicts?" was Stroke's next question.
That brought the list down to four names: Clyde, Jonathan, Marty and Peter. Guarnea
remembered seeing Marty and Peter earlier that afternoon in their car driving toward town,
entirely possible that they had other things to do. That left Clyde and Jonathan. Stroke had a
weird feeling as the name he expected to come up never came up. Is he that unnoticeable? Do
I want to bring this up now? He scanned Arno's face which was faintly moving from side to side.
He let the silence sink in. No one felt uncomfortable with Clyde or Jonathan.
After a while he drew a deep breath and slowly described what he thought should be
done and why.
"Civilization has always been a chancy game. Perhaps one tenth of the history of
modern humans has been spent in a civilized state "
"I wouldn't go that far." interrupted Arno.
"OK, more accurately, in civilized states."
"Uh-uh..." said Mauro
"OK, in city states."
"I'll buy that." said Arno and Stroke continued.
"Something like three hundred generations of humans have lived in cities or city-states,
out of about twelve thousand or so since truly modern humans appeared on earth. From the
beginnings of cities with laws, Hammurabi's code and so on, the state has had two legs on which
to stand. The legs are armies and religions. Internally, religion is the better policeman because
people treasure their freedom all the way to crime. The drive to control other people is relatively
weak in many people. Some of those with more of this urge to control express it in public form.
Some of these people join police forces. But there are not enough policers to control the
policees directly. So religions fill the gap, adherence to the group mythology controls behavior.
The external threats, real or faked, empower the armies. The state is always top heavy, so it has
been a precarious balancing act for several millenia now. The results of the excesses by either
of these entities has created terrible suffering and abysmal ignorance as the state became
unstable in either direction. Excesses in both directions are sprinkled all over our history."
Arno commented: "They are the meat of history, as I see it."
"But with increasingly available knowledge: solid, logical, scientific knowledge, the third
leg of the state erected itself to attempt to provide a more stable equilibrium. And it has had to
fight religion tooth and nail to establish the logical level of thought that is our birthright. And it
has had to fight the military's seductive support to prevent that leg from absorbing it completely."
"Now, between the Plague of Palms and the CyberKings both of the traditional legs of
civilization are very weak, but there are fanatics of both kinds who are driven to regain their
power now, and whose followers will continue their tradition for a long time. This is unavoidable.
The Plague has made a huge change in humanity that may allow us to survive as a species
longer because it will give us time to cope with our population problem. The advances in the last
fifteen years were great but the environmental problems were ultimately beyond solution except
by drastic population control. Before the Palm virus, only China had really tried it and could
barely get it to work. There was little real freedom there."
"All this may sound like radical rantings to you. Much too much paranoia built on a very
small fact. But trust me that what we have is the beginning of a drive by either religion or the
military to control free thought and action, using the power of the CyberKings to dominate,
control and dictate our existence."
Mauro spoke up.
"Yes. I agree with the fear of corruption of the CyberKings. I have thought similar
thoughts but I am not sure that one monitor in the rafters makes it a reality."
(unfortunately now is not the time to tell you, thought Stroke)
Stav cleared his throat and said:
"I am willing to buy Stroke's argument. I am willing to buy Mauro's doubt. What can be
done in the event that it is true?. We depend on CyberKings for our very existence at this
population level. You would have us go back to eeking a living out of eroded soils and gambling
with the weather?
"No, certainly not, Stav. We are well informed, all of us here. I would think that insuring
that CyberKings do not become corrupt would be the thing to do, somehow. Their control
guarantees us more freedom than the old politics ever did. If my fears are true, there will be a
thread from the person who placed that bug to the source of an attempt to corrupt the present
situation. Someone is sufficiently threatened by our freedom to group with others in an effort to
take us, first back to the time in which religion and the military had far more power, and then to
where either of them gains absolute power."
A long silence followed. The uneven grinding of the surf muted by the fog seemed to
make time itself flow unevenly. Stroke pushed a little:
"I have thoughts from Mauro and Stav, I would like to hear more thoughts."
Guarnea spoke:
"Stroke kept me quite busy on Sunday so I didn't get a chance to look at the audience
very much. But I seem to remember overhearing a comment about "lucky 30" or something like
that. Is there a chance that there was someone else that we have not remembered. Clyde and
Jonathan felt OK to me on Sunday."
(Stroke relaxed as he thought: Mauro, spank that woman to ecstasy, she deserves
it...oops, I forgot my present at the house)
It was Cala that spoke after more silence:
"When Stroke started talking on Sunday, Stav and I were seated in the middle of the
back row. I remember someone sitting at the far end of the row, I could not see him very well
because the rows curved around. He was the closest to the end of the partitions. And he wasn't
there when the spanking ended. Some people stood up to applaud you, Stroke, it is possible he
left then. His hair was dark, not very long and he was wearing thick glasses, I could only see his
head. I had not noticed him before we sat down."
"I was on her left so I did not see him very well. I remember dark hair at the end of the
row... vaguely. I didn't meet him." said Stav. (besides, you had other things on your mind,
thought Anelan)
Stroke continued:
"Mauro and Anelan were in the front row. Did you see him, Arno?"
"No, I was clear over on the other side, Stroke." (sounds so true, thought Stroke, sorry to
make you lie, Arno)
"You handed out the invitations, Stroke, do you know anyone on your list who looks like
that?"
"No, Anelan, I don't" (not on the list, thank you Anelan)
"OK," continued Stroke "maybe we will remember more later or something will come up,
hopefully. Someone was there Sunday who was not invited, and now we have a bug. We don't
know what the next move is but there is something that would be useful to do and I am going to
request it of everyone of you hoping that you will do it. Please keep a hand written notebook or
diary from now on, of the history of the last year or so as you have seen it. Optional, of course,
but humor an old man. If you decide to do it, start with today in the middle of the book and
slowly add the past as best you can remember. I cannot tell you what to include or exclude. We
have seven people here, perhaps our personal focus will be sufficiently different that the diaries
will be complementary. Write it for yourselves is the main point. And whatever you do, don't put
it on your computer. I am not sure what to advise if you have been writing a diary on your
computer."
A quick chorus of "not me"'s put that worry to rest.
"Keep your eyes and ears open in any interaction with the Link for anything remotely
pertinent to this. Other than agreeing to agree and agreeing to watch for signs, there maybe
nothing else that can be done now. Thursday's meeting may bring more light. Of course, the
damned thing must remain unnoticed. I have run out of thoughts, anybody else?... please?"
Mauro again addressed Stroke:
"If we find or remember anything, how do we communicate? Not on the Link, of
course... are telephones safe?
"At this point, only at the beach, preferably in the fog and talking to the surf. No
conversations in our houses, I will bet our houses are bugged, maybe that's a paranoid bet.
Anything unusual from the Link in the last few days? I haven't been on for ages."
Anelan spoke almost in excitement:
"There was a request on my computer to leave it on continuously until further notice,
they said it would be maybe three or four days, anybody else get this?"
Mauro and Guarnea had, Stav and Cala had, Arno had not been on in the last week (was
that true? wondered Stroke). Everyone fell silent. Why the odd request?"
"Act as if nothing happened, keep your eyes open, we meet here again tomorrow night at
nine if possible, make no overt inquiries, and thanks for listening to me."
Grunts of agreement met his words.
They bid each other good night and disappeared into the fog.