Arun’s Comments (group member since Jun 07, 2015)

Arun’s comments from the Editio Self-Publishing group.

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Hi

Just to let you know that the book 'The Cull' will be FREE on Amazon for Kindle/PC download from Thursday 16th March to Monday 20th March 2017. Please fell free to pass this on to your friends.

With the world's oil supplies running out can the wealthy elites pull off a reduction in the world's population in one engineered mega disaster? Who can stop them? Who would even know to

Sample below:
Prologue

For Sir Digby Chalfont, a connoisseur, of all the women in the group, one stood out. She was tall, with impeccably cut, gleaming bronze hair.

He noted the Givenchy Pandora box bag slung over the shoulder of her black crepe trouser suit, a Tyrwhitt, if he was not mistaken, and the raspberry shirt that softened the aquiline face was certainly an Emilio Pucci. He imagined a crop twitching against her Eleonaro black riding boots; the thought causing him to smile as he homed in. He had no idea of her standing in the group, although the clothes gave a hint to her status. He cared little; she was the most attractive person in the room and he intended to make himself known to her; his newly acquired knighthood must be good for something.

The faint silk scent of the window drapes was now combined with the perfume of luxurious colognes. The Chairman, a portly man with a well-used face, experienced the effect without enjoyment; well used to the smell of money. Taking advantage of his central seat on the small platform he surveyed the room. He was impressed all over again at the power of the Committee; to be able to summon two hundred people from the international political, military, industrial and social elites at such short notice and achieve their attendance was no mean feat.

Clusters of men, mostly white and middle-aged, their dark, sombre suits offset by a few in full dress uniform, a scattering of crisp white djellabas and several in multi-coloured dashikis. He noted the women; not enough to tip the balance.

All were veterans of this type of gathering, some chatting easily to each other, most keeping their own counsel. At the Chairman's nod, the man who'd been awaiting the signal detached himself from the group and walked to the podium; tall, slim, dark hair at the distinguished stage.

Kurt Silverman, Head of the Institute of Research. He cut an athletic figure; he looked good and he knew it. He also knew that he was amongst those for whom personal appearance mattered less than power and holdings; in that respect he was not their equal, he was there to serve them.

The view offered to him from the uplifted podium was of rows of seats, each one occupied by a glossy A4 booklet he'd prepared and placed there earlier. Gradually, as if in response to an unspoken suggestion, members of the group began to move to these seats.

After a short time the Chairman rose to his feet, his dark grey Kiton suit struggling valiantly to contain and command his ample body.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome," he said, his voice carrying without effort to the back of the room. Given the ratio of male to female and, more pertinently, the balance of power he might have been forgiven for saying, 'welcome gentlemen'. Having caught the eagle eye of the auburn-haired woman in black, seated next to Sir Digby, such a lapse had been rendered impossible. He waved his hand towards the podium, introduced Kurt in a few crisp words and resumed his seat.

Kurt spoke, his voice betraying a slight nervousness; this was an august company and he would have been a fool not to have regard for their power,

"Thank you for inviting me here to deliver, for your consideration, the proposed solution to the most pressing issue of our times; 'Peak Oil'."

He paused, making deliberate eye contact with the front row, then continued, "As you know, in the 70s it was estimated we would reach Peak Oil somewhere around 2015, after which the rate of production was expected to enter terminal decline, giving us a global fuel crisis somewhere about 2075."

He clicked a hand held device and the screen behind him came to life, showing a map of the location of the last known oil reserves, "However, increased warfare, rises in manufacturing and rampant population growth has meant a massively increased demand. We passed Peak Oil in 2005. As a result, we will reach the projected fuel crisis much sooner than expected."

He clicked again and the screenshot changed, "Of course, we took steps over the last few decades to try and contain the situation. Thanks to the work of the Neo Liberals in the eighties and nineties we were able to offset the increasing costs of oil production by shifting costs of manufacturing to the more cost effective labour force of the third world."

Kurt indicated with a smile the six-strong delegation from China, all male, in identical Prince of Wales check suits and to his eye, with identical faces. He gestured to the smaller group from India, two serious-looking men and one elderly, petite, sari-clad woman.

"You may recall it was estimated that we'd need a further three decades before the third world would be strong enough to take over the consumption of the West."

He paused before delivering the punch line, "I'm happy to say our recent studies have revealed that the new consumers are there in abundance as we speak, and more than able to take up the slack."

A few heads looked up at this revelation, most didn't react at all. Kurt had no time to wonder if they'd already had this information, he had to move on to the crux of the matter.

"This being the case not only have we no further need of the northern hemisphere labour market, we now have no interest in their continued ability to buy our products. In short we have no further need to sustain this part of the population."

Kurt was moving with poise now, as another chart appeared on the screen showing world population levels, "You will be aware of various natural phenomena supporting our aims of constraining population growth; the greatest of which are Aids and famine. The policy of appearing to work towards their eradication whilst achieving very little seems to be working. That takes care of Africa. Helpfully, Eastern and Southern European countries are being depopulated via sustained civil war and ethnic cleansing."

He paused, then, "Rapid economic cleansing is also underway; highly desirable areas of France and Spain are being de-populated and in the UK, London is being cleared to make way for settlement by the very wealthy, with the rest of the South-East to follow."

He couldn't prevent the smug grin that crossed his face; he'd recently snapped up some exquisite properties just outside Primrose Hill, so felt he had to follow up with, "Of course, you will get first pick of these prime slices of real estate as they become available. In fact, I believe you can book your plots now, is that right, Mr. Chairman?"

The Chairman rose awkwardly, caught out by the change of subject, but the words flowed with practiced ease, "Superior Homes has created an exclusive brochure, copies of which will be available in the foyer as you leave conference. You'll find outline plans for a deluxe chateau in an average lot size of 3,000 hectares in the new territories. "

An electric buzz swept the room.

Kurt judged the time was right for the big announcement, "However, attritional reduction of population in these areas is not enough for our needs. We must contain America, the biggest oil consumer on the planet."

Kurt looked round the room, then invested his voice with strength, "We now need to move into the last phase of our plan, which we are calling 'Operation Downsize'. I'd like to introduce General Nathan Goldhirsch of the US Army who will explain it to you."

The US contingent stirred in their seats and a tall man in full dress uniform rose to his feet and headed towards the platform. "That's US Marine Corps, Kurt," he said, smiling. There was a smattering of laughter, quickly suppressed.

"Okay," said the General, his frown bringing them back to complete order, "let's get down to business. We need to reduce the US of A population by at least 25% and we can't pussy-foot around. Economic destabilisation brings its own problems and we have one helluva civilian army out there, all armed. If they get a sniff of what's going on all hell will break loose. So, we gotta do it quickly." He turned to the screen and pointed at the image that appeared, "This here is La Palma, one of the Canary Islands."

A hush settled on the room, this was where it started to get serious.

The screen changed. "And this is the Cumbre Vieja volcano, it is extremely volatile." The screen changed again, "This is the western face of the volcano, which is gradually collapsing. One day, in the natural course of things this side will fall into the sea creating a mega tsunami which will sweep across the Atlantic, ravage the Bahamas and reach the Eastern seaboard in a matter of hours."

He allowed the magnitude of the pronouncement a few moments to settle then delivered the coup de grace, "Well, we don't have time to wait for the natural course of things, ladies and gentlemen, so we intend to blow the whole damn thing sky high. And we're doing it soon." 

Happy reading, hope you have a good week.

Cheers

Arun

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Hi

Just to let you know that my book 'Corpalism' will be FREE on Amazon for Kindle/PC download from Monday 19th to Friday 23rd December 2016. All I ask is that you tell your friends and leave a review.

Set in a dystopian future; all wealth is in the hands of the Corporations, the 1% whilst the 99% live in economic debt or poverty on sink estates in the North. Terry works for Relocations, his job is to relocate undesirables to these estates. Unfortunately for Terry he is late for work once too often and is himself relocated to a sink. But Terry is not all he seems. Why is he there and who does he really work for?

Meet Sir Phillip Blackmore, head of British Secret Intelligence, a Machiavellian character with plots more devious and unpleasant than even the Prime Minister is allowed to know about.

Delores Grey is a successful singer and the victim of a kidnapping; she has been missing for forty days and forty nights. Before she disappeared she was a flighty superstar who thought little of the world around her, on her return she is much changed, she now cares about things to the extent that she is willing to lecture her interviewers. Why has this change come upon her? Where has she been? Has she in fact been anywhere, could it be that it is all in the mind of Stephanie White and if so, who is Stephanie White?

It's Fancy Dress Night down the Dog n Duck. A group of young friends share a table for the night; Hiawatha, the Lone Ranger, Charlie Chaplin, Pirate, Mr Spock and a transvestite. They ramble through their usual debates and discussions. During the course of the evening their real identities are revealed as well as where they fit in the story.

The Independents are a new force in politics. Free of any lobby group, party bias, or corporate interest, they are determined to avert the looming catastrophe. They are on a headlong collision course with Sir Phillip Blackmore.

Naz and the other young Muslims are hatching a plot to bring home grown terror to an iconic building, one held dear to the hearts of many British people, including some of the would-be terrorists themselves. Will they be able to bring themselves to do it or will the plot be foiled by Blackmore's intelligence network?

Happy reading, hope you have a good week and Merry Christmas.

Cheers

Arun

Amazon .co.uk
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Corpalism-Ar...
Amazon.com
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Amazon .co.uk
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B...
Amazon.com
https://www.amazon.com/Corpalism-Arun...

Hi

Just to let you know that my book 'Corpalism' will be FREE on Amazon for Kindle/PC download from Wednesday 15th June to Sunday 19th June 2016. All I ask is that you tell your friends and leave a review.

Set in a dystopian future; all wealth is in the hands of the Corporations, the 1% whilst the 99% live in economic debt or poverty on sink estates in the North. Terry works for Relocations, his job is to relocate undesirables to these estates. Unfortunately for Terry he is late for work once too often and is himself relocated to a sink. But Terry is not all he seems. Why is he there and who does he really work for?

Meet Sir Phillip Blackmore, head of British Secret Intelligence, a Machiavellian character with plots more devious and unpleasant than even the Prime Minister is allowed to know about.

Delores Grey is a successful singer and the victim of a kidnapping; she has been missing for forty days and forty nights. Before she disappeared she was a flighty superstar who thought little of the world around her, on her return she is much changed, she now cares about things to the extent that she is willing to lecture her interviewers. Why has this change come upon her? Where has she been? Has she in fact been anywhere, could it be that it is all in the mind of Stephanie White and if so, who is Stephanie White?

It's Fancy Dress Night down the Dog n Duck. A group of young friends share a table for the night; Hiawatha, the Lone Ranger, Charlie Chaplin, Pirate, Mr Spock and a transvestite. They ramble through their usual debates and discussions. During the course of the evening their real identities are revealed as well as where they fit in the story.

The Independents are a new force in politics. Free of any lobby group, party bias, or corporate interest, they are determined to avert the looming catastrophe. They are on a headlong collision course with Sir Phillip Blackmore.

Naz and the other young Muslims are hatching a plot to bring home grown terror to an iconic building, one held dear to the hearts of many British people, including some of the would-be terrorists themselves. Will they be able to bring themselves to do it or will the plot be foiled by Blackmore's intelligence network?

Happy reading and hope you have a good week.

Cheers

Arun

Amazon .co.uk
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B...
Amazon.com
https://www.amazon.com/Corpalism-Arun...

Hi -

Amazon.co.uk
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B...

Amazon.com
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00...

Just to let you know that my book 'Daydream Believers' will be FREE on Amazon for Kindle/PC download from Sunday 5th June to Thursday 9th June 2016. All I ask is that you tell your friends and leave a review.

It's about a bunch of old people, ex service men and women all, they find they are no longer willing to sit back and allow the politically corrupt to ruin their country. They resolve to make a stand, to arm themselves and to fight, to rid the land of their greedy leaders, to attack the political elites in their haven, the Houses of Parliament.

The workmen argue and bluster and generally mess up, the three fat ladies take advantage of the digital age to seduce their unsuspecting prey.

The superstar footballer and his trophy wife reveal the self destructive nature of their life together and their pointless marriage.

A lucky couple win the lottery and find the pressures of new found wealth and family envy hard to handle.

A young East European finds herself prostituted until she meets her chivalric knight.

A mad eyed preacher tries to lecture the world back from the abyss.

The avenging 'Hand of God' meets out justice against criminal pimps from his community.

A homicidal diarist decides he's had enough and plans to kill members of the selfish 1%.

And then there's the return of Blackmore, the spy master general.
Happy reading and hope you have a good week.

Cheers

Arun

Amazon.co.uk
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B...

Amazon.com
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00...

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B007...
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B007...

Set in a dystopian future; all wealth is in the hands of the Corporations, the 1% whilst the 99% live in economic debt or poverty on sink estates in the North. Terry works for Relocations, his job is to relocate undesirables to these estates. Unfortunately for Terry he is late for work once too often and is himself relocated to a sink. But Terry is not all he seems. Why is he there and who does he really work for?

Meet Sir Phillip Blackmore, head of British Secret Intelligence, a Machiavellian character with plots more devious and unpleasant than even the Prime Minister is allowed to know about.

Delores Grey is a successful singer and the victim of a kidnapping; she has been missing for forty days and forty nights. Before she disappeared she was a flighty superstar who thought little of the world around her, on her return she is much changed, she now cares about things to the extent that she is willing to lecture her interviewers. Why has this change come upon her? Where has she been? Has she in fact been anywhere, could it be that it is all in the mind of Stephanie White and if so, who is Stephanie White?

It's Fancy Dress Night down the Dog n Duck. A group of young friends share a table for the night; Hiawatha, the Lone Ranger, Charlie Chaplin, Pirate, Mr Spock and a transvestite. They ramble through their usual debates and discussions. During the course of the evening their real identities are revealed as well as where they fit in the story.

The Independents are a new force in politics. Free of any lobby group, party bias, or corporate interest, they are determined to avert the looming catastrophe. They are on a headlong collision course with Sir Phillip Blackmore.

Naz and the other young Muslims are hatching a plot to bring home grown terror to an iconic building, one held dear to the hearts of many British people, including some of the would-be terrorists themselves. Will they be able to bring themselves to do it or will the plot be foiled by Blackmore's intelligence network?

“Hello Mr. Jones.” Terry flicked a glance at the young lady opposite, sort of smiled and nodded.
He’d been escorted to the local Relocations operations office and been kept waiting for 3 hours before meeting her; his state-allocated counsellor, Debby. “Have you been fighting?”

He stared at her ; he’d survived the 8 days incarceration, in what he’d been told was one of Middlesbrough’s roughest prisons, by being funny, something he’d found useful at boarding school until his first black belt rendered such tactics unnecessary. Whilst in the prison he’d kept his martial art skills under wraps; feeling his way, thinking it best to avoid attention. His speed had come in handy, mostly in deflecting blows when a few hard nuts hadn’t appreciated his humour and in generally keeping out of people’s way. Not much use when it came to the screws though; enclosed spaces and mob handed.

“No.”

“Oh, but the cuts and bruises, and your eye?” asked Debby

“Police hospitality,” replied Terry.

“Oh!” she said, “are you saying the police did this?” She reached for her notepad and began writing.

“No” replied Terry, hastily “No, I’m not.”

“But you said….”

“Never mind,” replied Terry.

“If you have a complaint against…” continued Debby.

“If I have a complaint against anyone, especially the police,” said Terry, “I’m not going to tell you, am I.”

“But you have to,” said Debby, “everything has to be logged so it can be investigated.”

“Well I don’t have a complaint,” said Terry, “I fell.”

“You fell?”

“I fell.”

“But that’s not what you just said,” pressed Debby.

“Well, it’s what I’m saying now.”

“You do know it’s an offence to make a false accusation against the police don’t you,” pressed Debby.

“I haven’t made an accusation against the police, false or otherwise,” said Terry.

“But you said it was police hospitality thus implying they had beaten you up.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Er…yes you did,” pressed Debby, “I’ve made a quick note of the time on my pad and I can play the conversation back for you if you like.” Terry frowned. “Everything in this meeting is filmed and recorded,” she said, pointing to a small black camera in the corner of the ceiling.

“Great,” moaned Terry, “look I didn’t mean anything ok, the police were fantastic, they made me feel right at home. I fell, that’s all.”

“Where did you fall?”

“In the shower.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Debby stared at Terry for a good 30 seconds before proceeding. “Ok, as you know, you are here in Middlesbrough because your debts exceed the total unemployed indebtedness allowable under section 12a of the employment act, which for your information is….”

“Yes I know,” interrupted Terry, “£25,000, thank you.”

“In which case you’ll know you face criminal proceedings for fiscal incompetence,” continued Debby.

“Yes,” said Terry.

“Which carries a minimum fine of £300,000.” pressed Debby.

“£300,000?” blurted Terry, “no-one told me that! How the fuck’m I meant to get £300,000? On top of what I already owe, how’m I supposed to pay that?”

“And 25 years social labour.”

“What!”

“25 years social labour,” repeated Debby.

“I heard…but 25 yrs and what the fuck’s social labour?”

“Please modulate your language, Mr. Jones. It does not help your cause” she nodded at him, a mild frown furrowing her brow. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Basically we will find you work and all your wages will be paid into Central Services who will refund your debtors.”

“And what do I get?” asked Terry incredulously.

“Nothing until your debts are paid,” said Debby.

“But how do I live?” asked Terry.

“We will put you up in social housing and provide you with the basics, food and heating, social welfare, that sort of thing…for which you will of course be charged.”

“What... and this goes on for...?” he spluttered, unable to finish the sentence.

“For 25 yrs, yes. Galaxy has provided a calculation….”

“But I’ll be nearly 50 when I get shot of it all…that can’t be right...”

“…of your total indebtedness with a projection of your social welfare debts….”

“Oh let me guess,” said Terry, “I mean what with the £170,000 I already owe….”

“I think you’ll find that’s £178,500, not including interest…”

“Interest?” he squeaked.

“…..at 3% above base rate which is currently at 9% so today your interest is 12% but that’s probably going to go up ½% in the coming months as most forecasts reckon the Bank of England will raise base rates in a month or so.” Debby finished in a triumphant burst.

Terry sneered and made a mock laugh.

“This isn’t anything to be taken lightly, Mr. Jones.”

“I know,” said Terry, “I was being facetious.”

“I wouldn’t make a habit of that, not in your position.” Terry sneered again. “As I was saying,” pressed Debby after a brief pause, “you owe £178,500 already, plus the fine of £300,000 plus a projected welfare debt of £130,000 with interest at 12% over 25 years totaling £1,825,500….” Terry leaned back and burst out laughing “Mr. Jones, this is very serious.”

“Oh yes,” said Terry, “it’s very serious, it’s so serious it’s insane.”

“Mr. Jones.”

“You’re trying to sting me for how much? It’s got to be over 2 million pounds, you tell me that’s not insane.”

“Mr. Jones.”

“I mean, I lost my job, I was late a few times and just because some crappy Government organisation reckons I’m low on points I get screwed over by the state for 2 million, well, fuck you.”

“Language, Mr. Jones and actually it is £2,434,000.” said Debby, “My advice to you, Mr. Jones is that you need to accept you brought this on yourself. The bottom line is you have proven yourself to be a poor employee….”

“Poor employee!” shouted Terry.

“Yes Mr. Jones,” said Debby, “a good many people would’ve loved to have had the opportunities you’ve had, it’s no-one’s fault but your own that you squandered them.”

“I was late a few times!” snapped Terry, “how can they do this to me, it’s bloody ridiculous.”

“It is Justice, Mr. Jones,” replied Debby, “the world doesn’t owe you a living you know. When a company agrees to employ you they place themselves at a disadvantage in that they don’t know what kind of person you are and they have to trust….”

“I’ll have you know I work very hard, I shifted more work than most of my colleagues, I was just late a few times and I didn’t suck up to the management.”

“Of course,” said Debby, “it was the management’s and your work colleagues’ fault, I’ve heard it all before. Isn’t it funny how it’s always someone else’s fault. People like you think that the world owes them a living, you want an easy ride whilst everyone else works hard.”

“I worked hard,” snapped Terry.

“Of course you did,” said Debby, “but hey, you were sacked for tardiness, funny that.” Terry gritted his teeth, he couldn’t afford to lose it with her completely “Your employer was good enough to give you the opportunity to prove your worth to society; employed you, paid you, got you on the property ladder and this is how you repay them.”

She shuffled her papers and then left the room. After 30 minutes she returned with a cup of coffee; she obviously took her counseling position seriously.

Terry smiled nastily, “Back so soon.”

“You are to be housed in a one bedroom flat,” said Debby. “With an open plan kitchen and lounge and very unusually, this flat comes with its own bathroom.”

Terry pulled a face, “I was hoping for a separate dining room and maybe a guest room.”

Debby ignored him, “It’ll be furnished with everything you need.” She answered his unspoken question, “Bed, wardrobe, sofa, 12” TV, kitchen table and chair and basic dinner set.”

“What more could I want?” He smirked at her.

Debby pulled a fake grin. “This is the address, your front door key, your bus fare and a week’s sub money,” she said , standing to leave, “we found a place for you with a local sanitation company, you start next week and the money will be docked from your first week’s wages. Enjoy.”

Terry pulled a fake grin.