No More Learning

On 03. 01. 2029 at 18. 00 o'clock, the first Molotov cocktails
towrads policemen and tanks in a side street of the "Avenue
of Humanity". The GP's immediately returned fire and
riddled the attackers with bullets.

In return, some Parisians armed themselves with clubs,
knifes, axes and even guns. Now the violence expanded
like a plague, seizing thousands of people along the
"Avenue of Humanity".

The warnings, the police officers were shouting, were not
noticed anymore by the raging crowd and the mass
answered with the old French national anthem.
The forbidden song became a surging wave of emotions
and shook the mass from one end to the other. The old
ground of the boulevard trembled under the loud sound of
the outlawed hymn. Something, the former capital of France
had not seen since decades.

The tanks finally came closer and the GCF soldiers and
policemen took positions. It lasted only a few minutes until
the GCF commander gave the order to shoot the people
down. The bloodbath started.



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While the mass was singing the strictly forbidden old hymn
in perfect harmony, and a surprising great number of people
could still remember the text, the first gunshots resounded
over the avenue.
"Tac! Tac! Tac! Tac! "

The noise of gunfire increased and hundreds of men and
women broke down. Then a terrible hail of bullets swept
through the front ranks behind the barriers - all the
policemen and soldiers began to fire now. The tanks moved
forward and pointed their heavy machine guns at the
numerous targets.

"Tac! Tac! Tac! Tac! ", it echoed over the avenue which was
allegedly dedicated to humanity. The salvos of assault rifles
cut hundreds of people down like a huge scythe. Finally the
crowd fell into panic. The old French national anthem lapsed
inot silence and was exchanged with the terrified cries of the
people.

The soldiers and policemen could hardly miss their
countless targets and they did their job, following the orders
of their commanders and were killing without mercy.
Most of them were no Frenchmen, and if they were attacked
by this crowd in this foreign land, they just had to put down
the uprising. And they did it. Hundreds of corpses covered
the "Avenue of Humanity" after only a few minutes.
The security forces marched forward in a closed firing line
and shot their way through the sea of men, women and
children. In particular, the heavy full metal jacket bullets of
the tank guns were devastating. Soon the screaming crowd
fled in all directions. Fences were ripped down, cars were
overturned and the Parisians trampled each other to death.
Behind them, the soldiers and policeman marched over
countless dead bodies like a slowly moving wall of death.
Then the security forces got a new command. The unruly,
but unarmed crowd, had been driven back by them and



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looked like the giant Persian army at the battle of

Gaugamela which had been defeated by the phalanx of

Alexander the Great. The policemen, soldiers and tanks

stopped.

"The Skydragons are coming! Stop! ", shouted one of the

squad leaders into his radio and wiped off the sweat from

his brow. The killing work had been exhausting.

Orders were given and the dreaded helicopters, coming

from a nearby military base in the west of Paris, came from

the sky. Shortly afterwards, the pilots of the Skydragons

saw nothing but a swarm of frightened ants, fleeing through

the streets.

Finally, the helicopters reduced their altitude and made their

gatling machine guns and their grenade launchers ready to

fire.

"Okay! We just wait for your orders! ", said the commander

of the Skydragon squadron to his higher officer.

"What are you waiting for? Fire! ", screamed the superior.

The pilot of the helicopter hesitated for some seconds, as if

he would think about that, what he should do now. In the

end, he simply said to himself that this was his "job" which

had to be done.

He was from Uzbekistan, with Russian ancestors, and his

name was Alexander. Meanhwile, the young man was a

soldier of the GFC since three years, and this was the first

time he had got the order to kill unarmed civilians.

Alexander tried to ignore it.

"If I wouldn't do it, another man would. . . ", he excused his

acting in front of himself.

Nevertheless, the payment for GCF soldiers was good -

and he had to feed a wife and three children. Apart from

that, every job had its dark sides. This was just the way of

the world. Now the automated target aquisition showed him

a great number of people. He stopped thinking and started



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to fire. It became a massacre. The heavy bullets of the
Skydragons smashed flesh and bones. Countless hit people
collapsed below the helicopters, screaming, crying, dying,
tumbling on the asphalt. Skulls were shredded and bodies
were mangled by this murderous blaze of gunfire. The
slaughter almost lasted one hour.

There was no escape for those who were caught by the
automated target aquisiation. Where the Skydragons had
raged, a cruel picture remained. Innumerable bodies were
covering the blood-soaked streets of Paris.
Alexander, the family father, recognized a man in the corner
of his eye. His head was torn, while he still tried to creep
forward, pulling a bloody trace over the street. It was
horrible. The Russian was shaken by doubts again, but he
finally suppressed them. It had to be done, it was an order,
and his only choice was to kill. Then he kept on shooting at
the ants, down there on the ground.

While policemen, soldiers and tanks were called to other
parts of Paris, in order to eliminate insurgents, the day came
to an end.

But the riots still lasted for two further weeks. Many
discontented Parisians attacked the local police stations in
their districts or assaulted local politicians. The head
administrator of Paris, Richard de la Croix, was shot in the
open street by an unknown man. Burning cars and houses,
firing tanks and policemen, ruled the street picture in many
parts of the furious metropolis for days.
But in the end the order was restored. This time, the Lodge
Brothers who frequently used the lie as a their weapon, had
consulted its brother: the terror. And he was successful.
Even the bravest man was powerless against the unlimited
inconsiderateness of the security forces in the long term.
About 40000 people died in the riots and street fights on
01. 03. 2029, and in the following weeks. Moreover, several



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hundred policemen and GCF soldiers were killed. Paris had
been drowned in blood. Now it was over. . .



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With him



It was already late. Mr. Morris, 56 years old and one of the
secretaries of the World President, had to hurry. This
appointment was extremely important. His taxi had
struggled through the jammed streets, from the airport of
New York to the inner city. However, time really pressed
now. Mr. Morris scurried through the big entrance door of a
gigantic skyscraper and ran to the lift. The beheld his watch
and became nervous. But in the end he reached the 33.
floor of the building just in time. . .

"Come in, Mr. Morris! ", called somebody out of a luxurious

office room on the uppermost floor of the skyscraper.

"Good afternoon, Mr. World President! ", said the man with

the gray temples and the just as gray suit, smiling unsteadily

and submissively. His interlocutor stared out the window

down at the streets of the New York and did not turn

around.

"I have the newest internal messages from Paris. . . ", said

Morris excitedly.

"Aha! ", returned the World President.

"Yes, the situation has become acute, as the GSA men

have told me! ", gasped the older gentleman, totally

exhausted.

"Really? ", asked his boss.

"Yes, Mr. World President! Confidential studies. . . ",

explained Morris, but he was interrupted.

"Where is your place in our great organization, Mr. Morris? ",

interrogated the World President and still stared at the

hectic tangle of cars and people between the bulky bank

houses of New York's inner city.



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"I beg your pardon, Sir! ", replied the confused secretary, still
standing beside the door.

"Which lodge, Mr. Morris? ", clarified the president.
„Eh! I'm a fellow of the "Sons of the Mountain", Sir! The
lodge is called "Sons of the Mountain". . . San Francisco, Mr.
World President! ", stammered Morris baffledly.
"Grade? ", muttered the man in front of the window.
"Eh, I'm in the 4th grade, Sir! That's all I have achieved until
now, Sir! ", stuttered the secretary.
"Well, perhaps that is enough for you, Mr. Morris! "
"I wanted to talk about Paris. . . ", said the servant, but he was
interrupted again.

"Sons of the Mountain"? One of my nephews is also there! ",
whispered the World President.

His secretary tried to direct the conversatrion on the
incidents in Paris, but the World President just groaned and
ordered him to stop talking about these things.
"Listen, Mr. Morris! I know what has happened in Paris, and
I give a shit on it! ", he said quietly. "Not even a damn fart!
Do you think that the "great revolution" will break loose
against us now, Mr. Morris! "

The World President seemed to be almost amused. "Leon-
Jack Wechsler is dead. I have already determined his
successor this morning. And now, I don't want to talk about
this unimportant and boring kids' stuff anymore! "
"But the terrorists have. . . ", Morris tried to explain with an
unsteady voice.

The World President seemed not to hear him. He still looked
impassively out of the huge window of his luxury office:
"Bring me a glass of orange juice, Mr. Morris, and place it
on the desk! "

"Yes, Sir! ", stammered his secretary and left the room. After
a few minutes he returned and put a glass of orange juice
on the table.



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"Thanks! ", said the chairman of the international community,

but he did not turn around. "Do you think that we would be

there where we are, if things like that uninteresting fuss in

Paris had ever impressed us just one time? ", he added

coldheartedly.

"Yes, I don't know. . . ", Morris became more and more

uncertain.

"We are the rulers of this world for two reasons. First,

because we have servants like you, Mr. Morris. Second,

because the old and great plan to conquer this planet is

perfectly ripe and has no weaknesses or errors.
"

The secretary stared at the World President with an

astonished face.

"Mr. Morris, you are, as a member of the lodge of the "Sons

of the Mountain", in your place. I am in my place, as World

President. What has happened in Paris was good. . . ", he

continued.

"What do you mean? ", asked the secretary and was

puzzled.

"Well, now we can tell the masses, how dangerous terrorism

is and that they can only get protected by an increased

surveillance! The media will hammer it into their hollow

heads like a mantra, constantly preach and repeat it, so

often until that herd of animals has understood our

message! ", said the president.

Then he remarked: "Mr. Morris, no one has ever managed it

to stop us. For decades, and centuries, our power has

grown, and it is still growing. We have struck deep roots,

like a cancer that can not be destroyed anymore, because it

has already spread to the last part of the body. We have

brought down kings and have smashed nations if they have

stood in our way. We have perfectly infiltrated this globe and

there is no escape for no one. In 2018, we put the mask

from our face and showed us to the people, but they



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remained silent and let us eat them. The nations have
behaved like the rabbit in front of the snake. The old writings
have predicted it and so it has happened. The great plan
became reality. And now, we want to bring mankind the
slavery that it deserves. Now our time has come, and we
will rule this planet forever! "

"But perhaps our reaction in Paris was not right? ", said
Morris.

The World President, who made him stand as always and
this time even turned his back to him, harrumphed and
answered, "Not right? Of course it was right! The masses
shall know that we control them. They can hate us but, first,
they must fear us. Their world, the old world, is broken into
pieces and will never return. The new world is our creation.
Yes, we want to show our power openly, as the elders of
our past always intended it. They were forced to spin their
threads secretly. We don't need secrecy any longer,
because we are the rulers of this earth. In our hands is all
the might of the world, and the sign of invincibility is our
banner, the banner of our New World Order. "
"I believe you, Mr. World President! ", said Morris, almost
under his breath.

"No! ", replied his master emphatically, "I know that you do
not mean that, deep inside. But that's quite immaterial.
What you believe has no meaning. The people also believe
much, but it is perfectly irrelevant. They believe in a better
world, in a rescue, in their god! Well, Mr. Morris, if that god
in whom these animals believe would really exist, I would
personally liquidate him! "

The words of this man, for whom he did the most menial
paperwork, visibly intimidated Morris. Liquidate God! Morris
looked around, as if searching for an escape should one
become necessary, but didn't dare to bestir from his place.
"There are only a few who could really become dangerous



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for us, but they are quiet at present," the World President

continued, "At least, they don't show themselves openly.

But this is nothing for you, Mr. Morris," he said, his contempt

undisguised, "really nothing for you! "

He clasped his hands behind his back, and seemed to lapse

into contemplation. "We are the darkness of the world," he

said. But he was musing to himself now, and Morris did not

catch the words, "We are the darkness of the world,

whoever follows us, will never walk in light again! "

The servant inquired what the master had said, but the

question remained unanswered. Instead, the World

President raised his tone and said, emphatically: "We bring

the yoke of slavery to all nations. Who knows us knows also

that we are the lords of hate, the dark messengers of

destruction, hating the light of other men, always eager to

extinguish it.

We tore down the old world we hated so much - we gnawed

at the roots of civilization, and finally we brought it down.

We hid for a long time under the cloak of lies and distortions

- our greatest art. Our enemies - those fools! - even hailed

us. Childish maggots! Now the time of our triumph is at

hand and who shall deny us our pleasure. "

"I don't know. . . ", Morris stammered, and even scratched his

head to display the necessary confoundedness.

"You don't need to know, my faithful servant. Because

wisdom is reserved only for the wise. Ignorance casts a

shadow in the minds of those like you. That has always

been a strength to us," said the World President, and he

spun around. His dark eyes sparkled at the nervous little

man. He took the glass of orange juice, sipped it and waved

Morris dismissively in the direction of the door. Then he

turned away again.

"Goodbye, Mr. Morris! ", he said flatly, his head nodding

slowly as if in affirmation of some damning, private



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judgement about this ordinary little man, indeed about all

ordinary men.

"Good bye, Mr. World President! ", answered the gray-haired

man and disappeared. With a certain relief that this

confusing conversation was over, the servant walked down

the long hallway and went to an elevator.

The head of the World Government opened a drawer and

took out a remote control. He turned to the big plasma

screen in the corner of his office and switched on the

television. On one of the news channels was a report about

the events in Paris. The man leaned back and stared at the

TV. A pretty newscaster presented the latest news from

"Central Europe" with a sad face. Some pictures of the

bombing and the mangled corpse of the governor were

shown.

Weeping people who seemed to be deeply moved by the

fate of the politician were interviewed. Even a man who

vigorously scolded at the terrorists and demanded a harder

battle against politically incorrect elements.

"More security for the people by increased supervision! " -

This was his suggestion, in order to protect mankind from

terror.

"These terrorists threaten the lifes of all respectable

people! ", ranted the man.

Then the camera showed again some visitors who were

seized by sorrow and grief, because of the bombing. The

riots were mentioned only with a few words. The police had

arrested a bunch of "fanatics" and "extremists", according to

the TV report. But the security forces had finally been able

to prevent more chaos, because of their hard course against

these "criminals".

The viewer did not learn that thousands of people had been

massacred by the police and the GCF. The World President



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just smiled. He took another sip of orange juice and turned
off the television.

A new morning began in Ivas. A new morning in the new
world. Frank and Alfred had visited Thorsten Wilden and
had talked with him about a lot of things. After that, Frank
had walked with Julia through the nearby forest. He was just
happy to be still alive. Meanwhile, the life in the small village
had taken its accustomed course again.
In these days Frank often thought about hope. He had got
his revenge, but his fight for freedom had just been born.
They say "Hope dies last! " - but what would a man be
without it. . .