Coffee Sex and Biscuits
a political science romantic fiction novel by Rolf A. F. Witzsche
Volume 5B of the 12-volume series, The Lodging for the Rose

Page 112
Chapter 19 - Crossroads in Time

Chapter 19 - Crossroads in Time

Part 1 - Return to Lake Baikal

   Instead of being sent to Africa where the future of mankind would be anchored in the coming long age of the Ice Age cycles, I was sent to Siberia. "You need to be there to help save Africa," says Fred when he handed me the paperwork for the mission.

      "What's happening in Siberia that will save Africa?" I interject while Fred was still speaking.

      "A meeting of the minds is happening there, a once in a lifetime opportunity to meet Einstein, Kepler, Gauss, Shakespeare, Schiller, and Benjamin Franklin all in one room." Fred began to laugh. "It is a private meeting, actually, organized by a few patriots of science from Novosibirsk and from the Irkutsk Institute of Solar-Terrestrial Physics. Do I have to say more? You'll be meeting at the lake."

      "Where at the lake?" I interject. "The lake is 400 miles long with a 1200 mile long shoreline." I looked through the paperwork. There was no map included. "You do mean Lake Baikal," I added, "the largest freshwater lake in Asia. I've been there, remember? This is big. It's like sailing on an ocean."

      "You'll meet at an undisclosed location. You know one the people there from the institute," says Fred. He begins to laugh. "He says in his invitation note not to bother bringing your bathing suite. The lake is still frozen and covered with snow. He'll meet you at the airport." Fred had trouble reading the name of the city, Sverobaikalsk.

      Bash, as I had called him, was there as he had promised. He had an airplane available. It seemed to be privately owned. It didn't bear any official looking insignia that might link it to the institute. He didn't say much. He just smiled. We flew high above the lake, even higher than the surrounding mountains. Everything was white, brilliant in the sunshine, interspersed with light blue shadows. "That's quite different from how you remembered the lake, isn't it. But it is the same old lake, an honest lake. At the end of the month or early next month the ice will break up as spring sets in. A month after that it's safe to take the boat back out."

      "What do you mean with it being an honest lake?" I interject. "It doesn't disappoint anybody. Many people depend on it for their living. It never lets them down, and not only the fishermen and the tourists. The lake is fed by four rivers and 300 mountain streams, but it has only one outflow, and this feeds the great hydroelectric station at Bratsk that benefits the entire country. This, my friend, makes this an honest lake. It is honest, because it benefits so many, many people. This sense of honesty may be unfamiliar to you. America doesn't have much of this honesty left."

      I nod. "Nothing much flows anymore back home that benefits society," I say quietly.

      "Ah!" says Bash. "It seems you have to come to Siberia to learn about honesty. You will find our meeting a feast in this regard."

      He didn't say more about it. We began to descend towards a tiny group of buildings on the eastern shore with mountains rising in the background. It seemed that mountains surrounded the entire lake. "Look there!" he says and gave me a pair of glasses. The buildings were barely visible. "A collaborator loaned us the lodge for a week. He is getting the thing ready for the tourist season."

      We landed on a narrow strip of built up land along the shoreline. In most places the mountains rose straight out of the lake, so it seemed. I noticed six people standing at the end of the runway. He pointed them out in order and by name: Yegor, Galina, Vadik, Gosha, Rita, and Yelena. "That's all of us," he says.

      Of course there followed a formal introduction. Yegor and Gosha were from Novosibirsk, and so was Rita, a small red-head woman hidden behind a heavy coat. Vadik, Galina, and Yelena were all from Irkutsk. Their specialty wasn't revealed, except that Rita was an accomplished author of some rather controversial books "that shook the starched establishment," says Gosha and grins.

      "I called you all together because of an unfolding crisis," says Yegor once we were all assembled in the large fireside lounge. He stood between two windows that were facing out onto the lake. Two floodlights focused on him that made his hair appear almost yellow, and likewise his short beard. He stood behind the lodge's lectern, not that he needed one. "The crisis is critical," he says. "It is a crisis of betrayal, a crisis so deep reaching that it might be called the most severe crisis of betrayal in the history of civilization. The whole of mankind is being betrayed. It is our task to figure out how society can be rescued from this trap that the betrayal has sprung upon the world. The betrayer in person is none other that the President of the United States of America. The betrayer in fact, of course are his handlers who pipe the tune, and the masters of empire who have the handlers on their string. Thus a puppet show has begun with consequences on a scale that dwarves anything we have seen until now. The previous President was bad beyond compare, so much so that the world celebrated when he packed his bags and vacated the White House, but in comparative terms he was a saint. He is credited only with the blunder of 911 and the near blunder of the B52 affair in which a loaded B52-H with 96 Hiroshimas on board was brought from Minot Air Force Base to Barksdale Base, the traditional jumping off base to the Middle East. We came that close to a nuclear war, but the game was spoiled by a few patriots, some of which are now dead. The previous President also has a few lesser blunders to his credit, such as starting two wars that destroyed two entire countries and killed several million people, and the Katrina disaster that he didn't respond to, and the mortgage crisis, the financial collapse that he allowed to happen. And that's just about all the bad things he has to his credit, with perhaps torture added as well. But somehow the country survived, the world survived, civilization survived. The new betrayal puts this continuity in doubt.

      "The betrayal started small at first," Yegor continues. "Massive vote fraud cast the first shadow, including death threats. But who cared? This had become the normal thing by then. That's the kind of process that had put the previous President into power twice, as people told me whenever I ask about it on my visits to the USA. So, the betrayal was tolerated. People shrugged. The new President was put into power. The people wanted change. The candidate promised change. In my book, change means a 100% reversal of the policy direction that nearly destroyed the county. That's what change meant to the voters who looked away from the election fraud to let the man proceed. 'Change' sounded like a promise from heaven. But this hope was betrayed. The change that was implemented was a radical increase of the old policy, insanity put on steroids." Yegor begins to laugh.

      "That this kind of betrayal was on the horizon was already evident prior to the election," Yegor continues. "The man's very candidacy was a betrayal of the Constitution of the country. He had been requested by many people to prove in court his citizenship, which the constitution requires for a President to be. The request was denied again, and again, and again. The proof was never given. Why didn't the voters uphold the Constitution? The golden promise for change seemed more precious than the principle of honesty. Then came the great bailout of the private imperial banking system. The imperial system of monetarism was dead. Every major bank in the world had died under the weight of the monstrous fraud that had looted the world and had thereby wrecked the fraudulent system itself. Great cries for bailout funds began to be heard. A ten-page bill was put before Congress by the previous government to authorize the requested bailout funds. The bill was voted down with a big margin. The entire affair should have died at this stage. The Congress had voted. But it didn't die. The ten-page bill was regurgitated as a 450-page bill, riddled with perks and promises, and reintroduced for an 'emergency' vote. The vote was a fraud, because no person can read a 450-page document in a day and understand it and vote on it the next day. The new would-be President personally phoned up the Congressmen one by one and lobbied for the fraudulent bill. And so it paused. From this day on the floodgates were open for the greatest giveaway of public funds in all of history. One might also call it the greatest bank heist ever, and the greatest betrayal of the public trust. The USA is operating with a budget of slightly over tree trillion dollars, which is 10% above its income. Since the fraudulent bill was passed, sixteen trillions in bailout payments were given away and promised. This amounts to an unimaginably large liability against the future that indentures every citizen for life. Even if it was possible to miraculously double the income tax without destroying the nation, it would still take fifteen years to pay for the giveaway. In real terms it indentures every citizen for life. Actually it doesn't, because there is no way that this can ever be paid in real economic terms."

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