Random Thoughts:Notes from the Rabble

Seriously, do you actually “like” your job? Really? Is it something you actually look forward to doing (everyday) and deeply desire to do it? Or, like most people (including me) do you despise your daily tasks. Do you dread going to work almost everyday? Do you get sick opening the mailbox to see a fresh round of unending bills that you can never hope to pay off? Have you ever taken notice that sometimes a job is “important” and other times that same function it is not? Like when one of the high and mighty are speechifying about how important every “team” member is and how important each job is to the success of the business. (You certainly wouldn’t know that going by the rate of pay for these “important” jobs.) Yet, when they are not on stage performing, the same people will hold their nose as one of the more “lowly” laborers comes near. It’s obvious that this is just theater meant to pacify the working class “rabble.” If you want to see, it’s there to behold. Be honest with yourself, whenever you hear from management/ownership types about an open door policy, you know that’s just so much smoke being blown up you know where. While there may not be any official caste system in place, it is alive and well. The “haves” do everything they can to make sure their club remains firmly in their control and rarely allow any of the common folk any access to their world. They work hand in hand with government acolytes to erect obstacles (regulatory, taxation, licensure, etc.) to any outsider’s efforts to get ahead. Anything that will keep the unwashed away from their carefully maintained ivory towers.

The crocodile tears flow when the elite drone on about how much labor costs are, how there’d be no possible way they could afford to pay a couple of more dollars more an hour, how they’ll have to replace low wage workers with robots because that’s the only way they’ll scrape by. This is coming from people who’s companies profit millions, hundreds of millions of dollars (even billions of dollars) per year, year after year. This coming from the small percentage of the people (less than 5% of the population) who control over 90% of ALL wealth on the planet, leaving the rest of us to attempt to live on the remaining 10% (or less). Government panderers who proclaim to have the answer are liars. THEY are a huge part of the problem to begin with. They are all misleaders, deceivers. They work hand in glove with the ruling elite, they are part and parcel of the same.

We have all been conditioned for generations that work for low pay is good (for us, the unwashed rabble), that hard work for low pay is even better (more lies). That delaying our desires and wants is a good thing, all the while the elite class lives a full life of instant gratification by using our labors to their advantage. These types will sit in front of their opulent mansions and tell you (and me) that we must make sacrifices they do not and will not. As they sit in their $100,000+ luxury vehicle they will tell you (and me) that we should downsize, even carpool to “save” money. They will tell you (and me) that we should eat less food, do less, spend less. They blame us for our lack of spending discipline when we (the common folk) run low on money. A majority of regular, normal working people have less than $1,000 in a bank, not because we spend unwisely but because we are NOT paid enough to live in the modern world. Most people in America make less than $30,000 per year, and that’s before the ruling elites confiscate a percentage for taxes, so you can figure most of us bring home under $25,000. And that, my friends, is simply not very much money today. So the next time you hear about how important you are at work you know they (the ownership/management class) are simply parroting a PR line they’ve been told you want to hear. Believe me, if you (or I) died on the way to the job tomorrow we would NOT be missed, not one bit, other than upsetting the master plan, the management would have to reassign others to cover our part of the work process until they found a replacement cog (oops! I mean worker). And maybe if the work got done anyway (which is normally what would happen) you wouldn’t be replaced at all. The other commoners would be expected to simply work harder, after all, that’s good for you, right?

Working for a (minimal wage) living sucks. Period. Working for anyone other than yourself is little better than indentured servitude. Regardless of what you do for a job. No matter where you work. All of it is the same everywhere. Working accomplishes nothing. Not personally, nor on a larger scale. You will not make any gains financially. You will not get any real satisfaction from working because typically you are not doing something you enjoy. Working for minimal compensation creates undue stress, false hopes, family strife, and lifetime debt, as you pursue the false promise of a better life through work. Banks and businesses work together to promote the false narrative of working (for others) for a minimal wage living. Big changes are coming and we may well see (hopefully) the mighty elite class destroy themselves. Unfortunately, many of us will perish along with them. But there is the slightest of hope that a new way will keep the psychotic elites out of control once the current system collapses. Let us hope that a non-government, non-interference, pro-freedom and liberty system rises soon. Only then can we break the enslavement of the government/business cabal and actually live as we were meant to. Free.

Random Thoughts, Wage Slave

skull-1205430_1920

 

Is the growing distance between the “haves” and “have-nots” a problem? I think it is. Now I’m not talking about the chronically unemployed, substance abuser who is constantly trying to get onto the latest and greatest government program. I’m talking about the normal, everyday working person who’s wages have been stagnant (at best) or have actually lost ground over the past twenty years. Is the solution to have some government “officials” take from the “rich” and redistribute to the poor? Should some government minion be determining a “minimum” wage? I would say not. For many, many years the traditional “gap” in earnings averaged in at approximately 20 times more. In other words, the highest paid people in an organization earned 20 times more than the lowest-paid echelon in the workforce. Today that difference is much higher, sometimes 100, 200, or even more times difference in compensation. Such disparity can only end one way, in resentment and desperation for the “have-nots.” Employers almost universally reject the latest “minimum wage” proposals and they do have a point…to a point. The last thing anyone should desire is to have the government get more involved but if this “wealth gap” continues to widen, and it certainly seems that it will keep trending in that direction, there will be ever louder demands for someone to do something and the “controllists” in power will gladly oblige. Business owners and top level management would do themselves well to steer back toward that tried and true 20 times earnings differentiation. The well-off are not helping themselves by continuing this self-destructive race for an ever greater slice of the pie. One can’t help but observe that these same people certainly appear to have all the money they “need” to pursue their own wants; boats, second homes, vacations, new cars (at the high end of the price scale, by the way), and many other accouterments that blatantly broadcast their “success.” All the while these very same people seem to incessantly complain about how hard they have it and how difficult it is to make ends meet. That they really don’t make very much money…except the empirical evidence contradicts that narrative. Business owners and top level management constantly attempt to cut “costs” like employee’s wages and so-called “benefits” (you know those things you pay more for every year and get less use out of like health insurance for example) while at the very same time padding their own pockets with bonuses the size of most of their employees annual wages, separate (and far superior) benefit packages, and other perks normal, “regular” employees will NEVER have access to. What used to be the land of opportunity is fast becoming the land of opportunists who will trample anyone who stands in the way of personal enrichment. The destructive gospel of profit above all else is corrosive and dangerous to a free and prosperous world. The way that had been open for so many to improve their lot in life is rapidly closing with only a select few holding the bulk of the wealth of the whole world. A recipe for unimaginable catastrophe is being prepared and unless we all work together to renew the promise of an actual land of opportunity, humanity will be set back a thousand years. We must act to get the government out of our lives to the greatest extent possible (both personally and in business life), retool the “profit first” thought process of the business owner(s) and top management; while making a profit is an important thing, it is simply not the only thing. Continuing down our current path is folly and will bring about our own demise. Until next time…

 

 

Ageless, A Serial Novel Ch. 9

2

 

Ageless
By James R. Colbert, Jr. and David R. Smith

Book One: Lazarus
Chapter 9

The wagon let her off at the edge of town, near a small ramshackle port in what used to be one of Rochester’s finest hamlets. As Lucy slid free of the cart and shimmied past the remaining passengers a few disinterested porters moved about, stacking cargo, or resting from the heat of the noonday sun.

Casually, she crossed the dock and headed toward an area heaped with large boxes and crates of wilting produce, studying the people around her as she went. They were ordinary people, workmen, traders, women with dirty children running about. Once a proud metropolis, the city now existed as little more than a haven for the hopeless and poor. Lucy felt almost sickened by it.

She moved with ease through the bustling crowd and went straight out to the water’s edge. So this was the place where Darin West was headed, Lucy thought. Perhaps, if she had used her instinct correctly it was. Losing West in the market was bad business, but as luck would have it a local farmer informed her that he usually ended up here since few other shipyards existed nowadays. Still, Lucy was certain West would be there, or she wouldn’t have chanced Dr. Stewart’s trail going cold days prior to coming and find out.

A faint plan was beginning to form in the back of her mind, vague and nebulous. As she thought she began to walk, placing her hands in her pockets, looking around and taking in the scenery. The port was mostly a disarray decrepit shops, wooden carts, and tattered tents, with crowds of people attempted to sell their wares or package goods for shipment.

The crowds thinned out the further she walked, leaving behind much of the noise and commotion that accompanied it. In the sky above thick rain clouds began to lumber in, carrying with them a cool wet breeze. This was a seemingly insignificant shipyard; one of many Lucy had visited throughout her career – just right for those wishing to come and go without notice. Here, the good doctor’s legacy would be lost, considered wholly unimportant to most whose primary concerns centered on procuring tomorrow’s sustenance and much-needed supplies. And, it was a place far removed from the regime’s prying eyes.

Lucy walked back and entered a tent at the far end of the docks that doubled as a lunchroom. As she sat down an elderly woman with glasses came over and quietly washed the battered card table, before wiping her hands on her white apron.

“Coffee, please,” Lucy said.

The woman brought back the cup and smiled as she handed it to her. There were only a few people in the makeshift cafe. Outside farmers and traders moved leisurely about.

“Say,” Lucy said, stirring her coffee with the tip of one finger. “Where could a girl get some work around these parts? Do you know?”

“What kind of work, misses?” The old woman replied, again wiping her hands on her apron.

“Electrical. I’m an electrician. The gov’s trying to restore the grid.” Lucy sipped her coffee.
“That sort of stuff.”

“Why don’t you try the industrial areas? Buffalo. Albany. Saratoga Springs.”

Lucy shook her head. “They got enough people out those ways. I’m looking more towards the southern tier region.”

Lucy paused for a moment.

“Of course, I would need transport. I figure I could work for my fare, maybe repair some electronics for the right person in need.” She shifted a little in her seat. “Oh, but that person would have to be trustworthy. The road’s a dangerous place for a girl all on her own.”

The old woman laughed. “That is true. A lot of people here would be glad to have extra help.” She wrinkled her brow. “So, you’re an electrician?”

“Do you know of any people in need of electrical service? Engine repair or the like?”

“None that I can think of. But I’ll keep an open ear.” The old woman went off to wait on some men that had come in. Had she made a mistake? Maybe West already came and left on one of the many freighters at the docks. Maybe she had been wrong about where he’d be headed. Nevertheless, Lucy’s instincts still felt right.

The old woman came back. “DW,” she said.

Lucy replied with a puzzled face.

The old woman smiled. “Darin West. He’s a good sort and known to fiddle around with those electronics of your’s. He might be interested in a trade.”

Lucy heart nearly stopped. She could hardly suppress her excitement. “Is he here?”

The old woman scratched the top of her head. “Well, that I don’t rightly know. He comes and goes so often.” She looked about the tent. “If he were I’d wager you find him loadin’ up at the docks.”

Lucy reached out and patted the top of the old woman’s hand in appreciation. She then paid for her coffee. “Thank you.”

“Once in a while the men go up the road and trade. There’s some sort of Government station out that way.”

Lucy nodded and waved goodbye. She pushed through the canvas flap opening and stepped out onto the hot pavement. For a time she walked aimlessly, deep in thought, turning her nebulous plan over and over again inside her mind. It was a good plan; it would solve everything, and with it the government would finally secure Dr. Stewart. But right now that all hinged on one thing: finding Darin West. He was the key and she only had the faintest of clues to his whereabouts, if it was really a clue. She dipped inside her jacket pocket and touched her ID card, folded and neatly creased. With that and a little faith she hoped she knew what she was doing.

A Government station. Lucy paused, looking around. Across the lot, there was a horse and buggy used as a taxi service, and a couple of cabbies sitting on the bed, smoking and gabbing amongst themselves. It was worth a try. Besides, there wasn’t much else she could do. West would be worth finding out, even if he was only Dr. Stewart’s contact on the surface. And, if the Government was trading illegally with the townsfolk no one would ask her any unwanted questions. They would be all too accustomed to remembering the punishment for ‘failure to comply’ with the rules.

She went over to the cabbie. “Hey, mister,” she said, “can you tell me something?”

The cabbie exhaled a great puff of smoke and looked up. “What do you want to know?”

“They tell me there might be a man by the name of Darin West out at the Government station. Is that right?”

The cabbie studied Lucy intently for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, DW’s out there. Why you askin’?”

“I’m hoping he might need some hired help.”

“That I don’t know. Old West kind of keeps to hisself.”

“Can you take me there?” Lucy brushed her hair behind one ear in a vain attempt to project an image of insecurity.

“Sure, if you’re willing to pay.” The cabbie lifted his cigarette to his lips and took a deep inhale.

“I can pay.”

Lucy rummaged in her pockets and retrieved a small amount of currency. The cabbie took it from her.

“Can’t say he’ll do any hiring, though. West don’t take many folks on.” The cabbie squeezed in one last drag and then threw what was left of the cigarette in a smoldering lump to the ground.

“All right.”

The second cabbie hopped out of the bed. “If West ain’t interested the guys at the station might be, but they’re real choosy. They don’t hardly let anybody in. Some kind of war work, I think.”

Lucy’s ears pricked. “I’ve never heard about a war?”

“They come into town and pick up a load of workers every couple of days. Maybe a truck full. Like I said, they’re real careful who they pick.”

“Is that right?”

“Work going on day and night. But nobody knows why. After the last war, you’d think there’d be no one left to fight.”

The other cabbie poked the man’s shoulder and gave him a solemn glare instructing him to shut up. “Enough talk. We best be going now.”

Lucy stared at the men bewildered. Considering the level of her rank she had no idea why she has not heard of such talks of war.

“Hop in, little lady,” the cabbie said. “It’ll take some time, but we’ll get you out there.” He then stepped around Lucy and climbed in the front of the cart.

Lucy gently dropped her bags on the bed and slid in the back. She had plenty to do, now that the first step of her mission was over. Darin West was in Rochester after all, and apparently she was going to speak with him very soon. But could the next step be done alone? For some unknown reason, the Agency disavowed all involvement in her mission, at least for the time being. Perhaps this had to do with all the talk of war. Still, that didn’t explain why? During the trip out to the government station, Lucy pondered all these things deeply. There was only one person who might have the answer, even if it was a long shot. Now more than ever she needed to find Dr. Stewart. If Darin West was here then Stewart might not be so hard to find. . .

 

Ageless: A Serial Novel

And now, for your reading pleasure, the next chapters in the ongoing, serial novel, Ageless!

 

2

 

Ageless
by James R. Colbert, Jr., David R. Smith
Book One: Lazarus
Chapter 7

A large, rugged-looking man, known as “Bugs,” scanned the area ahead. He was part of a larger group that was about 2 hours behind him. He was scouting the way ahead for any obstacles that might delay their passage. So far the way had been relatively clear. This area of the countryside was much more stabilized than some of the wildlands they traveled, so he really didn’t expect to see any serious issues. He saw none. He was part of the Holy Rollers, a band of rogues, entertainers, and providers of what people always wanted; escape from the drudgery of their day to day life. The Rollers were a nomadic, independent-minded, tribe currently being led by the One and Only, Most Reverend and Dapper, Dan the Man. They were on their way to the sleepy, largely agricultural community of NewGreen for their annual show and sale. It would be another two days before they would reach their destination and set up camp for the week-long “revival.” There, they would provide a mix of exotic entertainments; feats of prestidigitation, wild musical and dance performances, fortune telling, sales of the many tonics and other remedies the Rollers made to “cure what ails ya” and, of course, the highlight of the week, the “sermon” of the Most Reverend and Dapper, Dan the Man. Much in the style of an old tent revival, the Holy Rollers did put on one helluva show!

The road ahead was regularly traveled and the risk to the group meeting any kind of highwaymen along this stretch was improbable. Even if they did, few outlaws would dare tangle with the whole strength of the Holy Rollers. It would be hard to mistake them for some band of innocent travelers. Their distinctive leather vests with the Holy Rollers back patch prominently displayed was hard to miss. The Rollers were not afraid to fight if need be and over the years, many foolhardy, wannabe bad guys learned the hard way that the Holy Rollers were not to be trifled with. The big man satisfied the way forward was clear, turned and walked back to his transportation, a small wagon pulled by an aged, but still powerful draft-type horse. This particular breed had proven itself to be a survivor in a harsh world and was widely used by the populations outside the large city regions. The wagon creaked as the man climbed aboard and seated himself in the driver position. He took a hold of the reigns and encouraged the beast to move forward. He saw no reason why he would not be able to rendezvous with the main body of the group by sunset and give his report.

****

The Most Reverend and Dapper, Dan the Man was busy. He wanted to ensure the supply of tonics, potions, and other remedies were ample for the next show. The Holy Rollers were known for the quality of their “cures” and Dan the Man wanted to keep that reputation. The caravan had stopped until the Scouts all reported back on the way ahead. So far, all had returned with an “all clear” report and the group was just waiting for the last Scout to return. This was an ideal time to count inventory and, if needed, bottle more of the doctor goods that was the Rollers stock and trade. All the distillation equipment was in fine working order and producing nicely. Dan picked out one of the small sample flasks the Hawkers used to entice the crowds to buy as they watched the wide variety of entertainment shows that went on day and night at the Holy Rollers Lifeforce Emporium and Huge Revival Show, and poured himself a generous portion into his goblet. He took a draught from the vessel and judged it to be, excellent.

“Ah, now this will have a fine effect, the folks of NewGreen will gladly make trades for such a fine tonic,” Dan said to himself.

Dan continued to enjoy the fine tonic and was considering to pour himself another sample from a different flask when he heard footsteps coming from behind. He turned to see a small, svelte, attractive, young woman, dressed in the almost sheer, flowing dress of the Dancers. He quickly recognized her as Skye, one of several young people that had joined the Holy Rollers last year when they came through NewGreen. He’d hoped the good folks of NewGreen would still not be too upset about that.

“And what brings the lovely Skye here this afternoon?” Dan asked, smiling charmingly.

The girl returned the smile. “I did not wish to intrude on your important work, Most Reverend, and Dapper, Dan. I come to you because Bugs, the last Scout seeing the way, has returned and is ready to give his report.”

“Oh, my dear, Skye, your presence is never an intrusion! I will never grow weary of seeing you, a delight to the eye and soul, my sweet girl. The news you bring me is welcome!” Dan drained what was left in his goblet, set it down on a shelf and took the young woman’s hands in his. His penetrating blue-gray eyes looked deeply into her own. “Come, my sweet Skye, and we will go the evening feast together if you wish to be by my side tonight. As always, it is your will. I will hear what Bugs has to say while we take delight in the efforts of the Chefs and Brewers. Afterward, it would please me to no end to watch you perform the Dance of Desire…if it be your will.”

The girl beamed with delight. “I always enjoy performing for you, my Most Reverend and Dapper Dan. I choose to do these things for you.”

“My girl, you have made my life better for your choice! Come now, we must attend to the business at hand.” Dan embraced the Dancer and kissed her warmly, then hand-in-hand they walked to the center of the encampment where everyone would gather to hear the final report of the scouting mission and enjoy another pleasure filled night before the final drive toward NewGreen.
*Copyright 2016, House of Darkness Publishing, All Rights Reserved
Ageless
by James R. Colbert, Jr., David R. Smith
Book One: Lazarus
Chapter 8

“Good Morning, Darin!” Lyle said as his friend walked in the door.

Darin carefully removed the bright red fedora he always wore. “Yes, a good morning it is. Still a bit of a chill in the air but the sun is full and the warm times ‘bout ta begin any day.”

Lyle smiled at his friend. “I hope you are right, Darin. I’m ready for the warmth. Would you like some tea? I was just about to pour myself a cup when you arrived, will you join me?”

“I believe I will, Doc.”

“Very good! Two cups of my finest blend coming right up!”

As Lyle moved toward the kitchen area to get the tea ready for him and his guest, he thought about breaching the subject of Darin’s diagnosis. He was certain the formula would cure Darin’s cancer but could not guarantee the same curse of unnatural life extension would not happen to him. He remembered the pain in Darin’s face when is wife Mary had passed. He remembered his own pain of losing everyone you ever cared about while you continued, he did not wish that to befall his friend.

“Two teaspoons of honey, Darin?”

“Yes, sir, Doc Lyle. Jus’ the way I like it.”

Lyle prepared the cup to Darin’s liking and fixed his own as well. He brought the steaming cups out to his small table.

“Please, sit down, Darin.”

The two men took seats and settled in. A moment of quiet was just starting to become rather noticeable when Darin broke the silence.

“Doc, now I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what you told me, you know, ‘bout the cancer. Now you say this cure you made is a sure thing, the sickness will not come, that’s what you said, right?”

Lyle paused for a moment. “Yes, Darin. I am absolutely confident that my treatment will cure your cancer. As I told you, my concern is this, what other effects this treatment might bring about; mainly I fear that it may cause in you the condition I am cursed with. I can’t be certain what will happen with regard to that. Despite all my years of researching the cause, I have not been able to form any concrete conclusion one way or the other.”

“So, if you cure me, I might end up livin’ forever? A younger man might find that appealin’ but an old man like me, I’m not sure I’d want that. Without my Mary I…,I don’t think I’d be likin’ that too much. How come you didn’t use it on my Mary, Doc? Would it have cured her?” Darin’s eye began to mist just a bit with teary moisture.

“Well, no, I’m afraid it would not have, my friend. You see, Mary had a mutated form of the plague, not cancer.” Lyle reached over to place his hand on Darin’s shoulder. “I’m so close to a treatment for the plague, a real viable treatment but I wasn’t in time for Mary, I’m so, so sorry, Darin. I most certainly know the pain of your loss.”

Darin nodded his head sadly. He knew Doc Lyle had done all he could, the man barely slept for three days as he tended to his Mary. He did not want this cancer but he feared being without his star forever.

“Thank you, Doc. I know ya’ did all ya’ could for her, Mary knowed it too. I just don’t know if I want to continue for long without her. Maybe this cancer is meant for me?”

Even after 150 years away from his life as a cancer warrior, Lyle found himself wanting to beat this scourge of humanity. He never wanted to see anyone simply give in, to become defeated, especially when he had the cure, a real honest cure, right in front of them. “The fact is, Darin my treatment for your disease will cure you and it may not have the same effect on you that it did with me. I did not have cancer. I was not ill. Just that fact alone makes tremendous changes on how substances affect the body. I also injected a full, multi-day treatment dosage over the period of a few hours, a foolish risk, but one I felt I had to do to prove my serum was not the cause of the plague. You are the only person alive, other than myself, that knows my whole story, knows what really happened to me.” Lyle paused a moment. “Given the proper timeframe for treatment, this life extension effect may well not occur. I am both loath to encourage you to take the treatment because I would not wish this life of mine to happen to anyone else, and yet I would not wish this damned disease on anyone either. I just want you to be fully aware that while the serum will beat your cancer, there is an unknown risk factor that carries too high a price, in my opinion. Ultimately, the decision is yours.”

Darin thought for a moment. “I will have to give this more thinkin’ and try to work out what I should do. Oh, I actually jus’ thought of something I wanted to tell ya’ ‘bout. One of the Lone Wolves that come in from the wilderness now and again to do some tradin’ tole’ Cagney the Weaver that he spotted the Holy Rollers makin’ their way back to NewGreen. Said he reckoned they be ‘bout two or three days away. I know you was interested in talkin’ to them all when they showed up again. They do trade some fine tonic. I jus’ hope there ain’t no trouble with the Taggart Clan this year. I know one of the daughters run off with them Rollers last year. She was supposed to get married off to one of the other families over in the muck lands but she wasn’t too keen on that, Mary told me that, she kept up with all those kinda’ goings-on ya’ know. Anyway, I think the girl did it to avoid that situation. But anyway, the Rollers are comin’ soon.” Darin smiled and sipped his tea.

This development interested Lyle very much. Ever since last year when he purchased a small quantity of a supposedly very special elixir from the head man of the Holy Rollers, who was billed as the Most Reverend and Dapper, Dan the Man, the progress on his plague treatment had been incredible. Dan the Man had told Lyle that this special elixir was something they rarely sold to anyone but he had heard that Lyle was a healer and this potion was the Holy Rollers most potent medicine. He had told Lyle that he wanted to help a fellow healer and for the right price he would part with a small quantity. At first, Lyle was not really interested. The Holy Rollers seemed a lot like the old traveling carnivals Lyle remembered from before the war, back when he was a kid, a combination of an old-time tent revival, an exotic (and sometimes risqué) stage show selling dubious “cures” (which were really mostly grain alcohol and various flavorings), and a bohemian lifestyle that revolved around having a good time.

As he spoke with the Most Reverend and Dapper, Dan, it was revealed that the members of the Rollers used this potion on a regular basis and were almost never ill, despite regularly traveling through regions of the wilderness where the plague was still active. Some careful questioning of Dan the Man regarding the overall health of his charges convinced Lyle that there may be actually something to this super-special formula that he could use in his research. The “price” turned out to be two bottles of Lyle’s dandelion wine and five laying hens from his small flock. His initial analysis of the tonic opened up more mysteries than answers until he’d gone back into his original research for formula sample X567. The tonic had several shared properties with the sample. It also had a unique ingredient. One he could not identify. Something he’d never seen before. He used the last of the vial just last night trying to combine the two into what promised to be a powerful weapon against the plague, quite possible even a permanent cure, but he would need more. And now the opportunity presented itself to do just that.

“Well, that is some good news, Darin. You know the new formula we’ve been experimenting with? I will need more of the “special” tonic I obtained last year to continue our work and the timing couldn’t be better.”

Darin nodded. “I jus’ hope there’s no trouble, Doc. Taggart was mighty hot last year, you know, ‘bout that daughter of his. One other thing I wanted to check with you ‘bout anything you may be needin’ while I’m gone up ta’ the port city. I got a load a taters going up ta’ Rochester, leavin’ bout noon today. Still got some room on the wagons for your order if there be anything you’d be wantin’.” Darin finished the rest of his tea and set the cup down on the table.

“No, I don’t really need anything from there, not now. So, you’ll be gone for about a week then?”

“That should be ‘bout right. This gives me some time to think , you know, think ’bout what you said, ‘bout the cancer and all.” Darin stood up and reached for his beloved hat.

“Well, my friend, may your trip be pleasant and without troubles. Whatever you decide, that’s what we will do.” Lyle watched Darin place the hat on his head as he prepared to leave. “You sure won’t get lost in the crowd with that hat, Darin. I’ll bet I could pick you out a mile away!”

“I could bring you one just like it, ‘cept for it wouldn’t look quite so dashin’ as it does on me. Maybe I’ll get ya’ a nice plain gray one.” Darin smiled widely. The two had a long-standing, joking banter between them regarding Darin’s prized fedora.

Lyle chuckled. “You do cut a dashing figure, my friend! Take care and be safe.”

“I always try, Doc. I should be back in time for the Holy Rollers last night in NewGreen, that’s usually the best night anyway and, well, they do make some fine tonic.”

“That they do, Darin.” Lyle contemplated a thought and reached a decision. “You know what, actually, I think I’ll walk with you into NewGreen today. I haven’t been there in a good while plus I’d like to see if the barns have some laying hens available. My birds are getting old and not laying many eggs anymore. I think it’s getting time to replace them. I can see you off then visit the barns on the way back home.”

Darin was standing by the door. “Gonna’ be a fine day for a walk, Doc. Might turn out warmer than I first thought. Gonna’ be a fine day indeed!”
*Copyright 2016, House of Darkness Publishing, All Rights Reserved

Ageless, A serial Novel

2

 

Presenting the latest installment of Ageless!

 

Ageless
By James R. Colbert Jr. and David R. Smith

Book One: Lazarus
Chapter 6

Between noon and one o’clock, the rubbish-lined streets swarmed with people. Lucy chose, this time, the busiest part of the day, to make contact. After selecting a crowded part of the makeshift market, she accessed the pre-programmed line and stood in the cold holding one hand up to her left ear pretending as though she were attempted to satisfy a nasty itch. Beforehand she deliberately disabled the holographic imaging system in the small electronic device, opting for just audio transfer to make the call. Regardless of the fact that she alone could see the images played out across her eyes, Lucy felt that her vision might best be used to watch for any unwanted observers. That, and despite the tattered clothing and seedy appearance she now donned, Lucy knew from experience even the smallest inconsistency in behavior could be enough to have her recognized as a government operative. This was a chance she was unwilling to take.
The contact service was not new to her. On nearly every mission Lucy had been on it was used as a means to acquire further instructions. Cautiously, at the sound of the prompt, she gave the password, looking around the marketplace first to be certain that no one was watching. The last thing Lucy needed was for someone to see her appear to be talking with an invisible person in a crowded public place. Almost instantly she was connected with a satellite agent on the other end of the line.
“Listen, but don’t speak,” the agent’s gruff voice echoed in her ear. The sound seemed so loud that Lucy glanced around once again just to be certain no one else had heard. Nobody was paying any attention to her. Shoppers wandered among the horse-drawn carts of produce and handcrafted wares, going about their daily business as usual. “Cough if you acknowledge,” the voice ordered, and then there was a moment of silence.
Lucy placed one hand to her mouth and coughed quietly. In her head, she could picture the agent’s face staring down at her hard with unquestioned authority. And then he spoke again. “Good. Now we may continue.”
She did not recognize the satellite agent’s voice and considered that he must be new personnel. “Big turnovers, these days,” Lucy thought. But that, she knew, wasn’t an effect of people quitting. Agents and operatives held their positions for life, and there was no exception to that rule. If one were replaced it was the result of a ‘failure to comply’ situation – which, needless to say, implied disciplinary actions that Lucy did not want to think about. Tensely, she again coughed.
“At this time, you should have already reached your final destination and acquired the tools needed for the completion of a successful mission.” The voice spoke with command authority. “And, as you are aware, the role you will be playing is that of an out of work electrician making your way up north in hopes of finding permanent employment.” The receiver was put down and the muffled sound of footsteps came to Lucy’s ear. It was then followed by a short burst of stifled speech and the quick slam of a door being hastily shut. The satellite agent then returned. “As I was saying,” he said hoarsely and then continued.
“The town you are in utilizes a nearby park as a marketplace,” the voice said. “Here, people are able to buy, trade, and seek employment on a regular basis – as need dictates.” Lucy surveyed her current surroundings. “No shit,” she thought, considering how the voice at the other end of the line had no idea she was at that very moment standing in the middle of the place just described. For all he knew, as they spoke Lucy was standing on a dirt road somewhere far removed from the park and its inhabitants. His not knowing her current location made her feel a bit more at ease.
“Acknowledge,” the Agent said curtly. Lucy coughed.
“It is there that you will find a local trader by the name of Darin West. Not only is West considered to have pertinent information regarding the whereabouts of Dr. Lyle Eugene Stewart and access to his person, but it is also believed that he has gained the doctor’s trust and holds knowledge of certain aspects of his most personal life.” The voice paused for a moment, possibly attempting to place greater emphasis this last statement, and then continued. “Your objective is to approach Mr. West under the pretense of employment and through him gain access to your primary target. Again, acknowledge.”
Lucy coughed slightly.
After a short pause, the voice continued.
“Darin West may be identified in two ways. First: he is known to wear a large brightly colored hat. And second: he is missing one eye.”
This time, Lucy coughed without having to be ordered to.
“Until either positive identification of your primary target has been established or events are arranged with the potential of leading to your primary target all further communication is to be discontinued.” Lucy coughed in agreement. “Must I educate you on ‘failure to comply?’” the voice questioned.
Lucy quickly coughed.
“Good. Miss Haverling, you may now return to your mission.”
Lucy ended the transmission with a touch to her left ear and instantly headed for the park square. In moments she found herself pushing through a dense pack of people crammed into a disjointed and hastily prepared bazaar of various food and supplies. She knew no one would notice her there, but she was also well aware that finding the one eyed man with the brightly colored hat could be difficult. After about three and a half hours of waiting, he finally arrived. Now all Lucy must just get him to believe she was who she was not.
*Copyright 2016, House of Darkness Publishing, All Rights Reserved

Random Thoughts:The long Winter

Here we are heading toward mid-April and winter still is wielding its rule over us. The scene outside is much the same as it has been since late November, cold, wet, gray and just plain miserable. I’m just waiting to hear the news reports about how this spring (could have fooled me!) was the warmest on record! That always brings to mind the adage that a lie, repeated often enough, becomes accepted as the truth. It’s very much like the fable that the economy is “recovering” or that the unemployment rate is down. All fables, lies, and disinformation perpetrated upon us by the masterminds “in charge.” Since the year has, thus far, been an exceptionally bad one, (by it seems like the long, endless winter portends the reality of life in 2016. I expect the conditions to continue to deteriorate with regard to the weather, economics, personal freedoms and culturally for all. The halcyon days of our life here in America are behind us because far too many people fear to be free and desire the cold embrace of tyranny and enslavement by both big government and big business. Pretty depressing but that’s what I see. My view is from down here in the trenches not up in some ivory towers sipping champagne as my investment portfolio propels my net worth into the stratosphere. I am among the un-wealthy, the working poor, the “common rabble” on whose backs the cream of the crop (in their self-absorbed mindset) climb the ladder of so-called, “success.” All one can do is to keep slogging through and hope for the right opportunity at the right time and place in order to escape the yoke of the status quo. Let’s all try to overcome this dark time and come out better for it. Until next time…

Ageless, A Serial Novel

Welcome once again. House of Darkness Publishing presents to you the next chapters of our novel, Ageless. Please enjoy chapters 4 and 5.

 

2

 
AGELESS
Book One: Lazarus

Chapter 4

Lyle knew he’d been working all night and well into the early morning hours. He’d been absorbed in his work, as always. Things were beginning to fall into place now. The modified serum he’d been developing was showing real promise, finally. He didn’t want to get his hopes up just yet. There had been too many dead end paths he’d been led down over the years to let that happen. He recalled the despair of one of the few people he’d allowed himself to become close to when he told him the formula was not working and that his wife would not survive her battle with this damned plague. He remembered the look of agonizing, soul-crushing helplessness that had come over Darin’s face at the news. Oh yes, he was intimately familiar with that pain. It had been a year or more ago already, it was hard to remember exactly how much time had gone by but he knew it had to be over a year because Mary had passed during a particularly cold week in the middle of winter and another winter had come since. And now the last of the cold winds were fading as yet another spring season re-awakened the sleeping Earth. An apt time for a new beginning he thought to himself. He knew his friend (and occasional lab partner) Darin would be stopping by this morning. He also knew they had a difficult decision to make about what Darin wanted to do regarding his own coming trial. His work overnight had turned on a few more lights in his long dark search for answers so perhaps the decision wouldn’t be quite so difficult after all.

*****

Darin West opened his eye. It was still pretty dark outside. The threadbare piece of material that passed for a curtain moved slightly as a cool breeze of air passed by. He did not want to get out of bed yet but knew he should. He sat up slowly. Everything seemed to move a little slower nowadays. Especially since a few days ago when he found out about what was causing the pain in his back. Right now the pain was just a dull ache so, he was thankful for that. He readied himself to get up out of the bed and stood up. He shuffled across the room and found his robe that his wife had made years ago and tied it around his waist. It fit a bit tighter than it used to but it was still comfortable and comforting. Wearing it brought back fond memories of Mary, his wife, and partner for over thirty years. He lost her just over a year ago now. The plague had made a stop through the little community of Newgreen where they made their home and Mary had succumbed to its vile caress leaving him behind. His eye began to tear up just a bit at the thought of his Mary.

“Enough of that,” he declared and wiped his eye with his hand. He didn’t have to worry about his left eye ever tearing. He lost it many years ago in an accident involving a freight wagon. Darin willed himself to move into his small kitchen area and stoked the wood stove back to life. He took his pot and pumped enough water in it for two cups of tea. He set the pot onto the top of the stove to boil. He and Mary had always had a cup of tea each morning and he wanted to keep that habit going. Darin would make Mary’s tea just how she’d always liked it and place it across from where he sat. Some days he’d quietly sip his tea and just think about her sitting across from him, other mornings he’d talk aloud as though she was still there, telling her about the day ahead, just in case she was listening. The water soon boiled and Darin dutifully made the two cups of tea, sat down and decided to do a little talking this morning.

“Well Mary, I have some news to tell you. You remember how I told you a few weeks back that I felt, ah, well…just kinda’ crummy, you know, achy, tired, weak, run-down, that kind of thing. Well, my love, I finally told Doc Lyle about all that and he checked me out and found out what was making me feel so lousy. The news is not good, my dear. Dr. Lyle told me I got the cancer. That’s a fine howdy-do isn’t it? Now, I know the Doc’s got that cure he made up way back when but he told me he’s not sure of what effect it’ll have on me. He said he was very confident that his treatment would get rid of the cancer it was the other thing, the thing that happened to him, the not dying part he wasn’t sure of. Isn’t that something? A medicine that would cure ya’ and keep ya’ goin’ maybe even forever! I got to thinkin’ ‘bout what he was sayin’ and I don’t know as I want to keep goin’ without ya,’ Mary.” Darin focused on the steaming cup of tea in front of the empty chair. He could feel another tear start to run down his cheek.

“I got a whole lot of thinkin’ to do that’s fer sure. I guess that’s about it, Darlin’ that’s my big news, sorry it ain’t somethin’ better. I’m gonna’ get ready to head over to Doc Lyle’s place now, Mary. We’ll have more tea tomorrow, just like always.” The hot tea had lost much of its initial heat and had nearly stopped steaming. The chair remained empty. Darin sighed despondently and slowly pushed away from the table.

He made his way back into the bedroom to get dressed and get ready for the day. He looked in the small mirror and placed his hand up to his missing eye. Ever since Doc Lyle had fixed him up from the near fatal accident some thirty years ago, he’d become very close to the good doctor. Darin West was well known for his fierce sense of loyalty and honesty. He had earned the trust of Dr. Lyle Stewart, so much so that Lyle had told Darin the whole, true story of his life. Darin had accepted his friend’s explanation without question. That was over twenty years ago now. When Mary became ill, Doc Lyle (as she knew him) had tried everything at his disposal to help but it just wasn’t enough and after a few feverish days, she had passed. Darin had told her the Doc’s secret in her final hours and she whispered to Darin that she felt so sorry for him, that his loneliness must be almost unbearable. At first, Darin did not understand until she explained further.

“Oh, Darin, Doc Lyle stays while all those who mean so much to him go on. He is left behind, alone. We are only meant to be here for a little while then we move on. Poor Doc Lyle can’t do that, such a shame. I hope the man can find peace one day.”

Darin remembered that day like it was yesterday. He looked away from the mirror and began to get dressed. It was early spring season and the long winter’s cold embrace stubbornly refused to completely move on so he’d want to make sure to dress warmly again today. The sun was now almost above the horizon and some welcome sunshine began to illuminate the room.

“Now, where did I put that hat of mine?”

*Copyright 2016, House of Darkness Publishing, All Rights Reserved

 

AGELESS
Book One: Lazarus
Chapter 5

Corrine Westahoff was running slightly behind schedule this morning. Her son Arlen had been coughing most of the night and she was worried. When she worried she didn’t sleep well. Arlen had finally settled down and fallen asleep sometime in the small hours of the morning which, in turn, allowed Corrine to finally doze off. It seemed like it was only a few minutes before she was awakened by the wisps of light that were beginning to shine into her small window. The angle was such that the morning light shone directly into her face but she really didn’t mind. She had always enjoyed seeing a new day dawn, plus she had a busy day ahead, so all was well. She quickly dressed and checked in on Arlen who was still sound asleep. Corrine smiled and quietly headed toward the tiny kitchen. She stirred the embers of the cookstove’s firebox until they began to glow red then added some wood to get the fire going again for the morning. She prepared some sassafras tea and cooked some oatmeal, long a breakfast staple for the Westahoff household. As she sat down to her breakfast she first offered a silent prayer before partaking. Corrine was a member of the Growers Guild and food and drink were never consumed before the prayer of thanks was given. Her family had always been in the Guild, Corrine knew no other life. Her family had throughly trained and prepared her for a quiet life of service to the earth and its inhabitants. She and her husband had been assigned to this region a few years back by the Guild Council. All was good for the Westahoff’s, for a while. Corrine found herself looking over where her husband’s coat and hat still hung from the rack, just like he’d always placed them. Although it had been nearly three years ago, the sight still brought the sad memories of his death.

George Westahoff had been a hard-working, steady man who believed in the Guild’s mission with all his being. Their marriage had been one of the traditional “arranged” ones. Both families agreed that their coupling would be of benefit the Guild and its mission and enhance the status of both families within the Guild. Although neither George or Corrine had not initially been attracted to each other, they did both accept their duties and obligations to their families and the Guild and did grow to find some level of affection between them. George had died doing what he loved most, working. Farming was certainly not risk-free and such accidents were expected now and then but George’s loss was a painful setback for the family and the Guild. Their son had also been involved in the accident and had suffered a very serious injury but fortunately, this community had a doctor within their midst and Arlen was spared thanks to his skill and Corrine’s prayers. Corrine looked away back toward the cookstove and sipped her tea. Remembering George and the accident made her think of the doctor, a man she found herself thinking about quite a bit since that time. Doc Lyle tended to keep to himself and rarely ventured into the little community except in times of need (like when George was injured) or on an occasional supply run. She had spoken with him a few times since George passed and thought him to be quite pleasant and charming, a man she might be interested in getting to know better. He appeared to be about fiftyish, healthy, fit and alone. The people in the community had told her the Doc had no wife or children as far as they knew. He’d settled in about twelve years before, mostly kept to himself but was always available to help out in times of sickness or injury and was quite the healer.

Corrine knew that having a relationship with a person outside the Guild could be difficult. Her own aunt had done just such a thing. Now, while it was not outright forbidden for members of the Guild to get involved with outsiders, the practice was frowned upon and culturally discouraged. The outsiders had, after all, been the cause of the woe the world found itself in and the First Guild Council had determined that in order to remain true to its mission of healing the much-abused Mother of Life, and to make an honest appeal to the Father of Creation, Guild members should strive to separate themselves from those outside the Guild to the greatest extent possible. This was followed much more strictly in the past but the practical aspect of that policy was one of the Guild’s weak points. There were simply not enough Guild members in the world to continue building Mother Earth back up by themselves so in the end the decree was relaxed but culturally still not widely accepted. Corrine was never one to shy away from what she felt was right and hoped she would run into the doctor very soon.

She noticed the light in the little kitchen was actually quite bright now, the sun had fully risen now and she would have to move quickly to be out at the barns in time to meet the day’s work crew. They would be working in the greenhouses today and she wanted to make sure the beds were properly prepared for the seedlings. She drank the rest of her now cool tea and placed the bowl and cup in the basin. She then went to Arlen’s room and gently woke him out of his slumber.

“Arlen, wake up,” she said gently.

Her son opened his eyes. “Is it time to get up already?”

Corrine smiled. “Yes, it is. Get dressed and eat the rest of the oatmeal I made then get down to the barns. Your cough seems like it is better now, how do you feel?”
“Better, not perfect but better. I might feel all better if I could sleep for a while more, though.” Arlen smiled as he said this.

“I see,” Corrine said, “perhaps a whole day off would be even better?”

Arlen’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really, mom? Do you mean it?”

“Well…”

“Please! I will make sure to go early tomorrow!”

“Okay, I suppose it would be better for you to rest for the day, your cough was pretty bad last night. Maybe I should talk to Doc Lyle about it. I’ll send word to him, maybe he can see you tonight.” Corrine secretly hoped the doctor would come and not just to check on her son.

“Thanks, mom! I will have the evening meal ready when you get home.”

“You are a good boy, Arlen my son. I must be going, be careful and make sure you rest, understand?”
“Yes, mother I will.”

Corrine gave her son a quick peck on his cheek, returned to the kitchen where she grabbed an overcoat and bonnet then hurried along to the barns. It turns out she didn’t have to send word to Doc Lyle after all. He came into the town that very afternoon.

*Copyright 2016, House of Darkness Publishing, All Rights Reserved