No More Learning

Leon-Jack Wechsler

had arrived.

Yesterday he had still been in London and had delivered a

speech in front of the members of the Grand Lodge, what

belonged to his tasks as its second Grand Master.

Now he was in Paris, in order to open the "Festival of the

New World" solemnly. London, the best supervised city on

the planet, except for New York and Washington, was

Wechslefs adoptive home. Here, his ancestors had already

made lucrative bank businesses. Then a part of his family

had emigrated to Chicago and in the end he had come back

to the former capital of England.

The governor smiled and shook the hands of some

subordinated dignitaries. These bowed to the dark-haired

man with the noticeable round glasses. The politician was

fortyish and had already made a great career. Originally

coming from the bank business, he had also been active in

numerous media concerns and energy companies.

Wechsler was a powerful man and loyal to his education, he



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despised values like honesty or scruple. If it was necessary,
also lie and deceitfulness did it, because only the aim was
important and its name was "might".

The polititian combed his hair once again and looked
around with cunning eyes. The crowd was far away from
him and he had no reference to those people and he also
did not want that. He did, what had to be done, and said,
what had to be said, so that the new order could live. The
plan to create this new world, had been prepared long
beforehand, and it tolerated no deviations or delays.
Leon-Jack Wechsler was a cogwheel in this cruel machine,
but he was an important cogwheel. The politician knew that,
and everyone who knew him, knew that too. And his
servants did well not to annoy him.

The clock was ticking and would never stop. As the great
wheel of history always revolved - overrunning those who
were not able to follow the time.

It was 12. 58 o'clock on this historical day, which celebrated
the New World Order. Governor Leon-Jack Wechsler
grinned like a Pharisee and slowly walked up the stairs to
the speaker's desk. Numerous security men encircled the
stage. Most of them just looked disinterestedly around.
They seemed to suspect nothing evil.
All these security men were just too many and were to well
armed that someone seriously would have ventured to
attack them. Tanks, regiments of GP policemen, GCF
soldiers and still more best equipped Riot Control Squads
had been congregated here, to force the people to love this
new world. Moreover, the dreaded Skydragons were lurking
in the sky, and they were always able to smash the masses
like a hammer. It was suicide to challenge this power.
Leon-Jack Wechsler stroked his black business suit again,
looking at the spectators in the distance. Many of them
probably hated him deep inside, but this was rather amusing



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than dangerous, from his point of view. The "herd of
animals", as he and his Fellows called the rest of mankind,
would remain impotent and enslaved forever.

"I welcome you! People of our One-World!

I am so endlessly happy, to be allowed, to welcome you
here today. So many people have come to our beautiful
Paris. We have invited you to this "Festival of the New
World", to a great celebration of humanitarianism! And all of
you have come, full of joy and expectation! "

The crowd made some noise and Wechsler looked at the
herd with a cynical smile. . .



177



Red Moon



The voice of the governor echoed in the depths of the
canalization. Frank and Alf jumped out of their hiding place
in the shadows like predators, placing the bomb at the
previously selected position. Above them, they heard the
murmur of the crowd which listened to Wechslefs speech.
Alf adjusted the time fuse and when a faint "beep" sounded,
it was like the starting shot to a sprint for the two rebels.
"The band begins to play! ", said Alf and nodded at Frank.
The clock of death had been put on and was ticking its
vicious song until the bloody finale. Frank Kohlhaas and
Alfred Baumer ran like fleeing rabbits into the tunnel from
which they had come. In ten minutes, the NDC-23, this
deadly explosive, would tear a huge hole into the ground in
front of the "Temple of Tolerance".

The way back appeared hostile and doubts grew in the
brains of the two men. Would their plan really be
successful?

They scurried through the fetid sewer corridors and the
rooms with the reservoirs, with the cones of light in front of
them. Meanwhile, the dark path through the underworld had
burned itself into their minds and both men rushed forward,
as if they were hounded by a demon. Above them, fate took
its course and the Red Moon, the bloody moon, looked
down at the "Avenue of Humanity" with a grim face. . .

"Humaneness! What is the sense of this magnificent word? ",
called Wechsler into the microphone. "It means
benevolence! The uppermost principle of our new world.
Equality, freedom and benevolence for everyone! We have
brought it to the people. A better world under the sign of



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peace. And this is the reason, why we may celebrate today.

It has been successful - the attempt, to make this world a

better place. When I became governor of the sector "Central

Europe", there was always only one slogan for me: We can

do it!

Of course, it was not always easy to give the people these

holy ideals, but today we are united and happy. We love

each other and we are free!

And whom do we have to owe that? Our faith in the power

of huma. . .

BOOM! ! !

A loud blast cut off Wechslefs next word and tore the lies

out of his throat. It was like the ground had opened to drag

the devil himself down to hell. The explosion was

devastating and ripped a large hole into the square in front

of the "Temple of Tolerance".

The forefront of the building was torn up by the shock wave

like a piece of paper. Several dozens of security men and

politicians were torn to pieces, among them also Leon-Jack

Wechsler. Asphalt pieces, concrete, splinters of wood and

body parts rained down.

Where the governor had spoken a few seconds ago, a

smoking abyss had been torn into the ground. Mangled

corpses and wreckage covered the place.

Frank and Alf ran still faster. The deafening blast of the

explosion had shaken the tunnel system of Paris to the last

corner. For both men, it was the second starting shot and

they were close to loose their nerves.

"Victory! I can't believe it! We have really done it! ", gasped

Frank and sped forward. He had almost slipped to the

ground, but Alf could still hold him. "Run! "



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The people were quiet for a short moment, when they

perceived the end of the governor on the video screens.

Policemen and soldiers were shocked and looked around,

full of horror and confusion.

A swarm of journalists and cameramen, that had stood in

front of the stage had also been shredded by the explosion.

Some had immediately been dead, others had been hurled

away several meters and were lying on the ground, with torn

limbs, screaming and bleeding.

Their colleagues who were filming the event from the

distance, suddenly pointed their cameras at the bloody

scenario. The terror had come over the square in front of

the "Temple of the Tolerance", paralyzing the gawking

crowd for a while.

Nevertheless, the brains of the people slowly processed the

new situation and, above all, the security forces tried to

react quickly on the unexpected bomb strike. Radiograms

reached the policemen and soldiers, hastily and nervously

yelled commands and orders. Some officers were sent to

the canalization to look what had happened.

Shortly afterwards, a dozen men climbed into the hole.

Others were called to the nearby gully covers. The fact that

so many manhole covers around the square had been weld

shut by the policemen, made them problems now. They all

had to be levered up, what caused a long delay.

After a while, some of the officers entered the tangle of

sewer corridors and tried to find suspicious persons. Their

calls and the sound of their heavy boots echoed through the

tunnels.

The two bombers were already far away now and passed
the dug hole, which led to the abandoned metro tunnel.
Despite the red signs on the walls, they selected the wrong
corridor and lost a few minutes of precious time. Dozens of



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police officers already followed them, but they were still far
away. The panicky rebels cursed and became even more
nervous now.

"I. . . I just pushed over the edge! Sorry, Alf! That was the
wrong way! ", said Frank, gasping for breath and sweating.
"Yes, all right. I had sprayed these crosses on the walls,
exactly for that fucking reason, man! ", hissed Alf and waved
his friend nearer.

They found one of Alf s marks and Kohlhaas opened the
digital map on his DS-Stick with nervous fingers: "The first
storage room we had found is not far! "
They crept forward to the exit, while the inner tension slowly
became unbearable. But this they were on the right way.
Nevertheless, they still had to traverse a lot of long and dark
sewer corridors. They cautiously crept in the direction of the
storage room with the basin - it had to be at the end of this
passage. Both men just used one single flashlight now, to
cause not too much light. Frank did not dare to think, what
would happen if suddenly some policemen would stand in
front of them.

The two rebels silently scurried forward. Now they could see
a strange blaze at the end of the dirty sewer corridor. They
paused and tried to recognize something. Frank caught his
breath.

Someone had turned on one of the old lamps in the room
with the basins. The usual darkness which had always
protected them had vanished now. With careful movements,
they stalked through the tunnel. Frank crept to the end of
the sewer corridor and cowered there. Then he peered
around the corner. There was nobody. The room seemed to
be empty. A moment after, the young rebel turned around to
Alf and waved him nearer. "We have to pass this room!
Then we can hide again in the narrow tunnels", whispered
Frank and felt out his gun.



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"But who has turned on that light? ", hissed Alf nervously.

"Damn! You ask the wrong person! Come on now! ", said

Kohlhaas.

They crawled forward and entered the daunting room.

Behind the pool edge of the water basin, they crept into the

dimness. Suddenly the heard voices and the patter of steps

with heavy boots. Frank coughed into his breathing mask

which was meanwhile wet and dirty. His heart seemed to

explode. Alf stared at him with an appalled face and

swallowed quietly.

"Come on! Here! ", it resounded out of a sewer tunnel. The

light cones of two flashlights danced forth out of the dark

hole.

"Maybe here is someone! ", they heard, while the steps

came nearer.

Frank tried to calm himself, in these seconds of highest

tension.

"If we shoot them, we will just make a lot of noise. That

would attract only more of them", he whispered and Alf

regarded him with fear in his eyes.

"We are fucked up, my friend! ", said Baumer with an almost

whining undertone.

"Into the basin! Come on! ", hissed Frank and climbed quietly

over the pool edge. Alfred followed him without saying a

word. Like two otters, they smoothed into the repulsive pond

that seemed to be deep enough to hide. Kohlhaas touched

his combat knife and Alf desperatly looked in his direction.

The steps were now in close proximity and both rebels took

a deep breath full of stench. Then they disappeared into the

brackish water.

Frank closed his eyes and tried to think about nothing. This

was really perverse, but it was better than to be dead.

Suddenly, a blaze touched the water surface, otherwise it



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was just dark and Frank tried not to think about all the things

that could be in this ugly swill.

"Come on, check this reservoir room! ", it resounded through

the brackish water. Now they recognized two policemen.

One of the officers walked around the basin and illuminated

the dark corners of the room, then he went to the next

sewer tunnel.

The time appeared endless and Frank slowy became

queasy, he was close to vomit into the stinky water. Alf felt

the same. Meanwhile, the policeman muttered some

unintelligible fragments of words into his radio. Frank

emerged for a second to breathe some air and heard the

officer say something.

"I must get out of this shit! ", he thought to himself, but the

policeman was still waiting beside the basin. A moment

after, he walked through the room, around the basin, and

finally leaned against the pool edge.

The two rebels tried to communicate by gestures or looks,

but the water was so dirty and dark that this was impossible.

Now, Frank decided to act on his own.

The policeman was still standing at the opposite end of the

pool, leaning against the basin's edge and talking with his

colleague, who had obviously gone into another sewer

corridor. "Did you find something? "

"Only rat shit here! ", it came back with a laughter.

Kohlhaas could not understand anything else. Only God

knew, where these two policemen came from. Anyhow, they

were no Frenchmen.
The officer in front of Frank seemed to

be Hispanic or something like that.

Kohlhaas quietly moved below the surface and dived

through the dirty water to the edge of the basin like an eel.

As long as the officer was in this position, and the other one

was somewhere in a tunnel, he had to act. The young man

took his combat knife, pulled it out of the sheath and waited



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for a few seconds, while the officer was mumbling

something into his radio. The rucksack on Frank's back

which had been freed of its deadly cargo bugged him now,

because it hampered his movements. Kohlhaas felt like a

crocodile that had waited for the gazelle all day long. And

the gazelle had come to the border of his realm to drink. He

pushed himself off the floor of the basin and jumped up to

the pool edge.

The sudden sound of splattering water behind him let the

policeman turn around with surprise. The officer tried to

release the safety catch of his machine gun, but Frank was

faster.

Kohlhaas rammed his knife deeply into the cop's neck and

jumped on the ground beside the water basin. His opponent

gasped for breath and stumbled back in confusion.

Frank grabbed the man and pressed his hand on the

officer's mouth, so that he could not make too much noise.

Meanwhile, Alf had also climbed out of the basin and held

his combat knife nervously in his hand.

"Unnnghh! " The injured policeman lurched and Frank

rammed his blade again into the neck of his enemy, while

he pulled the man to the ground. The cop still fidgeted and

tried to shake off his attacker. Suddenly Baumer came from

the front and knifed the officer too.

The policeman finally collapsed and gave up his resistance.

Both men pulled his heavy body some meters away and let

him lie in a corner. Then they heard the voice of the other

cop who called again something out of a sewer tunnel and

seemed to return. Frank and Alf rebels had to disappear

now, as fast as possible, before he would find his dead

colleague.

For their luck, the way out of this room had remained in their

minds, although they still were totally confused. They ran

into a dark tunnel and made off. Some minutes later they



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heard a loud scream behind them. Probably the other
policeman had now realized that the room with the water
basin had not been empty. The two men ran and ran and
finally reached the exit. As fast as they could, they left the
canalization behind them. Wet, smelly and blood-smeared,
they crept to the surface. Frank and Alf hastily put on their
jackets to hide the conspicuous bloodstains on their clothes.
The two bombers breathed again and enjoyed a fresh
breeze of air. They just could not believe it! They had made
that bombing and the police did not catch them - so far.
Now they only had to reach their car to escape from the
metropolis, which slowly fell into chaos.

Shortly afterwards, the two assassins hastened through the
streets. They were hardly regarded, because around them
Paris became a huge boiler full of rage and confusion.
Groups of people had gathered everywhere, men and
women ran across the streets, cars honked and they heard
the voice of an excited newscaster out of the window of a
house. The bombing had shocked the whole city - just as
they had planned it.

Frank and Alf fastly ran forward and nobody paid attention
to them. After a while they had reached the side street, in
which they had parked their car. It had not been stolen or
broken up in the time of their absence - and this was not
self-evident in these days.

They finally exchanged their filthy and dirty clothes with
some new dresses that had still been in the trunk. Frank
threw the dirty clothes into a garbage can, started the
engine and drove away. It trip lasted, because many streets
were closed off or were clogged with people. It was nerve-
racking, but finally they reached one of the streets which led
them out of the boiling city.



185



Paris slowly disappeared behind them, Frank and Alf
pausend for breath. Steffen de Vries had already landed in
Compiegne at the arranged meeting place and was
nervously waiting for their arrival. While time passed, the
Belgian felt more and more uncomfortable. But Kohlhaas
and Baumer finally reached the small village near
Compiegne. Now they could return to Ivas. Before the take-
off, they freed their hire car of its vehicle number and
burned it in the forest, hidden from any curious views.
The car was totally destroyed and no one would ever be
able to identify the wreck. When they welcomed the Belgian,
he was more than impressed with their success, and he was
also more than relieved at the same time.
Steffen de Vries shook their hands and was absolutely
amazed. The radio had already informed him about the
situation in Paris since the bombing. Perfectly exhausted,
Frank and Alf climbed into the airplane. Shortly afterwards,
they left "Central Europe".

In the former capital of France, the situation had meanwhile
become dramatically acute. After the crowd had seen the
end of the governor on the numerous video screens, a
strange and confusing silence had ruled the "Avenue of
Humanity" for several minutes. Many people had not been
able to handle with the unforeseen event.
The security forces admonished the crowd to remain quiet,
while tanks threateningly rolled out of the side streets
towards the cooking human pulp. After a while, one heard
the first spectators approvingly yelling and clapping their
hands. The crowd was moved by a tumultuous unrest and
more and more people started to laugh and shout.
"Thank God! That pig is dead! ", screamed a group of men
somewhere in the giant throng. In that moment, the



186



shouters ignored the fact that they were all filmed by GSA

agents.

"This would also be the right end for the World President! ",

yelled another man at the top of his lungs.

Then still more people began to shout things like this. Some

young men stamped their feet and sang the forbidden

national anthem of old France. Many of the persons

standing around them joined the singing, although a lot of

people no longer knew the correct text, because the song

had been forbidden by the new rulers.

"Freedom for France! Down with the World Government! "

A choir came from the rear part of the crowd and the shouts

were carried by more and more people. Hundreds joined the

furious screaming and soon the "Avenue of Humanity"

quaked under the roar of countless Parisians. It was a

strange picture, this huge crowd, clogging the streets and

slowly getting out of control.

The faces of many people were lined with pain. Millions of
Parisians lived a life full of sorrow, poverty and perpetual
insecurity. Therefore, it was no wonder that the displeasure
had grown inside them in the last years.
Meanwhile, a big part of the population of Paris consisted of
badly paid workers and peons. The salaries were usually
that small that one just did not starve and was able to pay
the high rents for the shabby dwellings.
Many of the people here knew the gnaw feeling of an empty
stomach. The food prices and the fees for electricity,
heating and water had steadily been raised since 2018.
Hundreds of thousands of inhabitants of the city had already
fallen through the welfare net and had become street
people. Sometimes, they just froze to death in the winters.
This was the sad truth about the "new world". There was
also no longer a social welfare system, because the World



187



Government had abolished it as a result of the high public
debt. All this was a good hotbed for a revolt. But even now,
many people did not dare to protest. They were still
intimidated and tried to hide somewhere among the others.
They frightenedly looked at the surveillance cameras that
were situated everywhere. Some of them even sneaked
away from the avenue and went to the side streets. So the
crowd broke up into a submissive and a rebellious part in
the following hours.

Nevertheless, it was astonishing, how many citizens
suddenly had the courage to raise their voices. The
anonymity of the crowd seemed to fill them with bravery.

"Freedom for France! Down with the World Government! "
"Freedom for France! Down with the World Government! "
"Freedom for France! Down with the World Government! "

The choir of desperate protest increased and became
gradually louder. Somewhere in the crowd, Frenchmen and
immigrants started to attack each other. The Moslems
screamed their own slogans, refering to Islam, which were
also hostile against the World Goverment. In the middle of
the mass began a riot. The angry people assaulted each
other with bottles, knifes and clubs. Even some shots could
be heard.

Policemen and GCF soldiers, who had meanwhile encircled
the crowd, flanked by tanks, threatened by loudspeakers to
immediately stop the antigovernmental shouts. But crowds
have their own dynamics. So is the single man mostly
cowardly and obsequious, but as a part of a mass he
sometimes becomes a hero.

The orders of the officers were ignored, and after a short
time, policemen, soldiers, GSA observers and the crowd
opposed each other like two warring armies.



188



Now the GP-squadleaders yelled the order to "catch
seditious people in the crowd" into their radios and groups
of officers with heavy body armor clubbed their way through
the mob to get all those, who had been idenitfied by the
GSA agents. Finally, the situation escalated more and more.
The policemen were welcomed with bottles, cobblestones or
even bare fists, while they uncontrollably beat everyone
down who stood in their way. Nevertheless, the screaming
of the mass became louder, despite their brutality.
Yes, the more people were cut down by the clubs of the
cops, the more people joined the chorus of protest at other
places in the giant sea of humans.

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.



189



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



190



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



191



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.