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‘…Humanity has never enjoyed such a period of certainty of future peace. Never before have we raised ourselves above our own animalistic nature to embrace the freedom of true equality that stands upon this podium. We have been privileged to witness the wholesale transformation of a species unable to rise above tribal factions, unto a brotherhood of man.
No more has the ugly Spectre of War held a mirror to our very eyes, smiling at the fear born hate of a one man against kin. We now possess the tools to turn those aspects ourselves which would destroy us, into the heart of compassion. Man has become the God of Man. The technology that our ancestors forged so often to express their desires for power, have indeed given us just that.
Yet no longer do we craft the arms of conflict, or the intelligence gathering of our rivals resources with envious intent. Yes, today we are each others arms. Arms to hold each other in a global embrace. We are each others intelligence, thinking as one, without individual ambition or malevolence. We are each others resources, united in a glorious whole that retains diversity, yet embarks upon a combined purpose and direction.
As we take up the olive leaves ourselves, rather than delegate that task unto another, we lay down the instincts which earned us the privilege of Kings of the Earth. What greater fate could our fathers have foretold, than that which we now being to fruition? What greater destiny could the folk of yore have prophesied than the true Union of Man, in thought and intention?
We are the next chain. From the vantage point that we have over our dominion, of other worlds, of our future, we can finally be sure that our mutual interests are always being acted upon, and that the next link will have only prosperity and sanctuary to inherit, rather than the ignorance and uncertainty of old.
My brothers and sisters. We are One. We are now truly interconnected as a global community, ready for the Great March of Humanity. We join together to protect each other. To support each other. To stay strong in the face of external adversity. No challenge shall ever be too great for us. So, once more to Peace Everlasting - in our time - in our world. Let us raise our hands together in glorious celebration of each other, as One People of Earth.’

President Bradley Menton, President of United Oceanic States. 21st October 2084.

Address to the citizens of the U.O.S.,(inc. E.R.U.. ceding to U.O.S. Regulatory Control), former R.I.A.P., A.U., and other countries allied with the ‘Cerenet Global project.’

Day of Commencement of Final Treaty for Cerenet Link-up with the populous of the former Republic of Indo-Asiatic Peoples.

Chapter One

Darkness faded into an indistinguishable blurring of parallel beams of light, which subtly gently waxed and waned. Their diffuse glow alternated with the cool grey of a metal hue. The warmth of their yellow tones defied their winter born nature. As they phased in and out of luminance without regularity, the beams crept across the floor towards the bottom of the field of view.

A hum from below was constant, deep, intangibly immense, and superfluous in source. Its presence was mellow and calm, yet wholly unnatural, as if the very Earth was emitting some ancient chant posed in monotone. An electronic giant slumbered beneath the ground. It’s mood was good, as it was undisturbed, yet it’s powerful potential was communicated with perfect clarity by its proportion.

The sunbeams from between the Venetian blinds were now kissing the cheek of an elderly man lying half bare upon a bed. They had crawled up from the floor, projected from a nearby source outside of the bedroom window. Only their pace gave a hint as to their artificial origin, as they gave a radiance which was indistinguishable from that of the morning sun in the far northern hemisphere, as it slipped between clouds and varied in warmth accordingly.

Kurt’s open left eye stayed motionless. His pupil was dilating and expanding to adjust to the uncurtious beam that was making slow progress up his cheek. He had always slept on his side. He recalled the experiments of scientists whose revealing meanings to the six different categories of sleeping posture had given him the impression that he was an inwardly comforted man, who craved peace and took solitude in himself in troublesome times. He had known he was an introvert, even as a boy, listening to that radio broadcast from the BBC, and the rest of the character profile the scientists had given from such a simple facet of human behaviour seemed to fit his well enough. Since childhood he had been fascinated with the intricacies of psychology, neurology, and biomechanics. The age of his childhood had been one of rapid progress in such areas, but Kurt believed upon reflection that he would have always ended up devoting himself to his profession, whether information in this field had been readily available in his youth or not.

The single cover on the low mounted bed began to rise and fall with a barely noticeable increase in regularity. Kurt had been conditioned to wake only to particular circumstances, so had since reconditioned himself to feign the metabolic patterns of theta brainwave sleep when he woke before the correct time. Indeed, he had attempted to condition himself to wake a half an hour early, at irregular intervals in the week, to buy him a little time to think without interference. This precious commodity was beyond value to him, and had been for a long time now. Some men, he often thought, will prove the extraordinary lengths that the human spirit will extend to, as freedoms are taken from them.

Today was to be a day more interesting that any other he could remember. Kurt, despite his immense self-discipline and relentless calm, was deeply exited. For so many years, his daily practice was to suppress any emotion, as much as was possible. The best way to hide one’s emotions from others was to hide them from oneself. Only in the inner mind, that place where one can store truths so deep that they become unshakable, does one attain the ability to retain purpose in the face of extremes that would seek to tear those truths apart. Some emotions can be held on to as truths. Some are nothing but the very fabric of lies.

The only sound at this time of the morning was the majestic hum from the complex, many, many floors below Kurt’s ground level living quarters. He would visit the source of the electronic orchestra not so many hours from now. At least, that was his intention. Of course, he had been there many times before, but that was always upon the will of those that controlled him.

He stilled his thoughts. Had they betrayed him? He couldn’t know. Calm. Constant. Unshakable. He instinctively portrayed the freedom of a great logic, operating within tight parameters, accepting of all control of those parameters from those outside.
His heartbeat slowed back to its resting rate. The human body undergoes innumerable changes within the duration of a nights sleep. Many patterns emerge, but even they are often indistinguishable from those of waking activity. The human body, culmination of a three and a half billion year experiment in life cycles, takes care of itself in ways that the accumulated knowledge of the subject falls short of a hundred fold. Kurt enjoyed intellectual irony. So often the componants of a system are unaware of the system of which they are an incumbent part. Cognitive intelligence has done little to alleviate this universal constant. Occasionally though, a component becomes aware of its own function within the whole. Yet almost always, that realisation marks the end of the time the part is willing to be a cog in machine. Some cogs even go on to try to change the machine. And those who run the machine? This is what they fear most.

He rolled onto his back, pacing his thoughts along through his checklist of events that must come to pass today for him to achieve his aims. The cold precision of his plan disturbed him a little, but as such great uncertainty lay within the outcome of the plan, he knew his mind had become like that of a machines. There was no place for a single mistake. Every facial expression, every motion, every posture must portray normality, whilst his movement, conversations and specific actions would one by one unlock the chain of events with which he was bound to by steel conviction.

Laid upon his back, he allowed himself a deep sigh to relax his body again and place it on the perimeter of his conscious thought. His morning wake up call would take him through the monotony of his morning routine. The health check-up, shower, dress, analysis and briefing of his days work. Then out to the gathering area for a quick breakfast. This was a sequence that he had repeated a thousand times since being relocated to this complex. The Ministry of Central U.O.S Intelligence and Global Communications. Home of the Cerenet. Origin of the most advanced scientific research in the world.

The lighting slowly changed in intensity and colour from a barely visible night time
blue, through to a yellow red natural sunrise. The temperature in the room had been gently rising throughout the past few hours, from the ideal sleeping temperature for a man of Kurt’s age, to a warm, comfortable morning atmosphere. The lights in Kurt’s room spread across the minimalist planes of cut into simple geometric angles. Pinpricks innumerable wove a perfectly balanced body of natural tones down the walls, as they spread outwards from the ceiling. No part of the room gave an indication of variance from the overall theme. That theme, day by day, was gradated through the seasons in unity with their passing in the outside world. A world that he had not seen for any great length of time since he had first arrived here.

Whilst 2.4 billion of the world citizens lived in a desperate poverty that defied the progressive technological revolutions of the past two and a half centuries, Kurt was held against his will in a virtual prison that a world population of ten times that number would find difficult to believe in. The encroaching gap between natural reality and technological hyper-reality had been a field that Kurt had lead for almost two decades now, yet even for his deep seated love of irony, the hand that dealt him this fate was one his ideological sensibilities would never let him justify to himself.
He scratched his cheek, acting waking conscious impulses that he knew marked the transition from sleep to full cognition. He swallowed hard. The air was not dry. It had a freshness that hinted at the countryside dew laden breeze of his childhood home. His foot twitched a little. To even the average expert, his movements gave a perfect performance of an elderly man slowly awaking from slumber.

The observation cameras that encroached upon every angle of his modestly sized dormitory apartment recorded his every move. Highly advanced audio recording equipment laced every wall, feature and utensil. Chemical tracers computed the air that was ventilated from the enclosure. Temperature sensors built up composite imaging that could easily capture the prose of the heat from his footsteps for hours past. The apartment was free of any areas that escaped this technical absolution of any potential deviance from his masters. Indeed, the rooms were free of any instruments that could be used for any purpose out side of that which he was told to do, and no parts that could be used for any kind of escape. No sharp kitchen utensils. No fabrics that could be lit, heated or otherwise turned to incendiary. No angular corners, joins or beams that a head could be committed to be dashed upon. Of course, there was no way in or out, other that a single door that separated his quarters from communal areas. Important prizes are always cushioned in the safest of cabinets.

‘A very pleasant morning to you Kurt, I would be most appreciative if you could rise now. This is your morning call. There are no new messages on your external voicemail. May your day be rewarding and productive.’

Kurt stirred heavily. He was quite thirsty. Never a true morning person, he often found the first hour the most difficult of his day. Perhaps the autopilot of his personal digital voice companion had encroached upon his initial apathy further. This presented his masters with no problem. His use to them was in his daily work. They only concerned over his personal wellbeing because of his brilliance. They only needed him for his scientific aptitude and it’s relevance to their manifesto. But the price that they, even more than his previous masters wished him to pay, was that they wanted his mind in its entirety.

‘I’m sure that you will prefer to be comfortable during your vitality monitor Kurt, so I took the liberty of surprising you with a Citrus Back Coffee this morning. I hope it is to your satisfaction. It is, of course, cool enough to drink. Please relax in the seat for a moment, facing the monitor screen.’

The thin, almost transparent, single-piece bed garment that he had worn to sleep had been placed in a cylindrical tube that thrust up from the floor beside his bed area - after his semi-circular bed had slid into the wall automatically. There was no opportunity to hide objects in the compartment that it vanished into, as he was conditioned by previous enforced instruction to stand in the centre of the room as it did so.

Then it was a few seconds pace across to the corner of the enclosure, to sit on an elegantly curved, soft plastic seat. It rotated left and right by motion of its passenger, but only to a slow pace.

The screen itself resembled nothing more than a backlit mirror, behind which one
could just distinguish a few slits of electronics. Sensors would scan Kurt every morning from this monitor, and its sister components above the seat in the ceiling, giving a complete analysis of his health in less than a minute. This information would then completely guide the instructions that geared the routine of his diet, fitness training, thinking exercises, sleep pattern, psychology sessions, leisure activities and social contact. It even changed the personality of the computer generated voice that accompanied his home life. It also affected the schedule of his work, though always ultimately in fitting to that agenda of those who owned him.

The bathroom was fitted in the most the most unusual way Kurt could have foreseen when he began his new captivity. Space technology was a great second interest of his, but he could never have guessed that the only time he would step inside a sonic shower room would be in his own home. This was an irony that he didn’t mind. The unit was over a decade old, and he had little doubt that it had been manufactured for something outside of mission status – but still, like all men, he had an awe struck boy wanting to play with the toys of his hero’s and fascinations hiding inside him for opportune moments to indulge itself.. More than a few of the science fiction writers that had so engrossed him at his parental home had a passion for predicting such unlikely technology. The novelty had still not quite warn off after three years, and despite the outrages of the freedoms that were held from him. A man can drown in two inches of water. Yet he cannot help but laugh at the sensation of tiny microbes and dead skin cells being shaken off him by high intensity sound waves.

Then a few minutes to choose the cloths that he would wear for his days work. He could edit the garment that he would wear, within a range of parameters, via an on screen display, that was projected onto a wall in his dining room. This interactive device was controlled by a mixture of voice activation, and hand gestures. It was the same device that would allow him to choose the menu of his evening meal. It broadcast private communications, media, and all other technologies that were enhanced or dependant upon a visual representation. The projector lay in the opposing wall of the room, and the voice and motion sensors that allowed control were positioned to allow the operator to move freely around the room. Sound channelled from a host of points around the room, which itself, had been designed to optimise the clarity of the audio and visual output. The lighting compensated for fluctuations on the main display, the walls were positioned in mathematical precision to reduce reverberation, diffraction and other potential distortions.

Kurt’s choice for the day was the epitamy of his personal taste. This was one of the very few expressions of personality that he had in this environment, so he openly exploited the chance to use it. Soft, pastel shades of green and brown, interdespersed with cream and black. No patterns, only subtle textures, and slightly formal looking. It was suite like, yet, as always, crafted in the form of a single piece garment. All of Kurt’s clothing was tailored from a comfortable polymer, with little or no reflective qualities, no pockets, no cavities, and a series of Velcro like fasteners that connected up the spine and across the hips. Like all clothing produced for government buildings, it was discarded after a sessions use, never more than a day. Minimal opportunity to hide a weapon to harm others or oneself. Minimal opportunity for infection by a biological weapon. Minimal opportunity for the clothes themselves to be used to hang oneself or another. The material used would break at a very low yield of strain, therefore not even an opportunity to use the garments themselves as a means to hang oneself, or be used as a rope, sling or devise of any other nature.

Kurt dressed in front of a mirror. His physical appearance was of a well-toned, active man of sixty-five or seventy. He had by no means always been this healthy, but the training he was obliged to do, combined with an excellent diet, gave him a robust all round fitness. He was approaching six feet tall, with no obvious amount of fat on any part of his body. His partly bald head was crowned with short grey hair, his faced dressed with a short trim beard. Despite a lack of sunlight exposure, he had a slight tan from the tanning rays in the communal exercise area. His work did not require any great physical stamina, neither did his natural disposition lead him to engage in any superficial amount of care for his physique – but, as he was well aware, he was a tool of politics, a resource whose longevity was heavily invested in. As long as he continued to be a productive agent for the will of those with power, he would be tended, controlled and harnessed.

He had a long scar on his right arm, which he had deliberately sought to keep. He was surprised on initial analysis that this had no been the subject of a cosmetic removal. His personal history was known at great detail to his captors, as it was known to the public because of his prominence in popular science before his disappearance. They knew about the circumstances around his loss of his wife and children. They knew about the attack that could have killed him too. They were aware that he knew that they had been the perpetrators. So, Kurt had assumed that further to deep psychological testing, they would attempt to erase all connections that would cause him ongoing resentment to those who had brought such a deep loss to his psyche. They could have attempted to alter his memories of the event. They could have removed the scar caused by the attack. But they had not.

Kurt’s continued reasoning had brought him to the conclusion that they were maintaining the status quo on this situation to offer an allusion of apology. They had chosen to let his mind heal of its own accord, believing that his acceptance of the past would lead him to place this personal tragedy within the wider context of the events at that time. They trusted him to resolve the resentment from that event internally, and believed that it would even lead to trust and respect for them because of it. By giving him freedom over such an intensely personal issue, they could extract a degree of allegiance from him.

The alternative, as far as Kurt had reasoned, was that the arrogance they showed in so many wider issued was being applied to the more miniscule agenda of their relationship with him. Do nothing, make no apology, and rest easy that he cannot do anything but adhere to our will anyway. That would not be such a difficult supposition to believe, in light of the wider history of the ruling party. But, Kurt had knowledge of their inner workings that far surpassed the citizen of a territory under their rule. He had the benefit of context. He was aware of the extents that the parties ‘hearts and minds’ ideology would stretch too. He was aware of the levels of refinement that they had in such areas. The Party’s interest in Power knew no limits. The control of territory was at the very broadest end of their agenda. Above that was the control of people. In turn above that was exacting their will over those people as a society. Of still greater importance was the removal of autonomy in individuals. The greatest prize of all was possessing a population of individuals who were mentally and emotionally behind the Party every step of the way – exuberating love for them, a thirst for their prose, a will to die for their agenda.

Kurt was standing upon the territory that bred this Party. The United States of America. Its satellites Great Britain and Japan had merged forty years ago now, in the face of extreme competition from China, India, and the European/ Russian alliance. Since then great wars had been fought in the model established by the U.S.A. U.S.S.R. Cold War that ended a century ago. The scarcity of global resources at that time had given rise to massive competition for resources, and provided the catalyst for a technological renaissance to attain new sources of energy and methods of production. Of the three superpowers that emerged, Europe never overcome its handicaps of language and pride of history. The evolution of super-states had a basic requirement for individual nations to be willing to sacrifice their own culture and history, for the good of the whole. As two hyper-powers coexisted, drawing smaller nations in to their Herculean economies, ceding political power to the best candidate for self defence became the fashion. Finally, the West, including Japan, South Korea, Australia, New Zealand, and the possessed territories of the Middle East, as the U.O.S, faced off against The R.I.A.P. which stretched across Asia, Indonesia and Africa.
As conflicts grew, and the economic competition increased, the living conditions of humanity fell rapidly. Seen as a war of economic models, it was the West who looked like the doomed party for the majority of these two decades. The final product of technological advancement had decided the conflict. Massive distances were spanned by each empire, many languages encompassed. Cultural differences made interaction across the masses as difficult as the centuries preceding this era. A technology was created that overcame all barriers to the transference of information. A network of cerebral implants, that converted the message of a correspond to a universal code, directly to the mind of the recipient, in the form of native words, and appropriate images. This network became the Cerenet, or CereNet. Electronic telepathy, relayed via satellite.

Kurt Conrad had created the first laboratory prototypes of the implant some two decades ago. The moment his work became published, and the potential understood, he had become an international celebrity. The media christened him with the title of The Einstein of the Mind, the Leader of the Great Internal Revolution. His celebrity dissipated quickly with his first kidnapping. Instantly he had become one of the most sought after scientists by the rivalling political movements. He withdrew into hiding. Since then his life had been one of shadows. A life where everything that he had held dear to him had been taken away. Forever fated to be a puppet of those who could extract his learning, and manipulate his research unto their ends.

Kurt had participated in the celebrations at the end of the war with the East. He had long deliberated upon the outcome of the global political struggles, no matter which government held him as their agent. He knew it was of no real consequence to him. His concern was for the consequences of his life for humanity. A one world politic had long seemed inevitable. He had always doubted the benefit for the citizens of such a global state. Kurt believed that even this transition to a single hierarchy was just another link in the transition from what was, unto what would inevitably be. The only enemy of the future that mattered to Kurt was the tools of suppression held by those with power. Kurt found it ironic that he had become one of the few men that the elite relied upon to maintain and advance their primary tool of suppression. His love of irony gave him only one direction for his own future. One that he fully intended to live out no matter what the cost.

'Futura' is a novel soon to be released Chapter by Chapter on myspace. The story, a high octane political science-fiction thriller, encompasses many individual layers, with a future Earth created in incredible detail, placed within a universe that brings together the limits of our understanding of our nature and place in the universe. In a macabre dystopian totalitarian political landscape, the book begins as 'The Third Oil War' ends, with the defeat of the Chinese Emporium by the United Oceanic States - and the first global dictatorship begins. The governing party has taken hold of The Cerenet, gaining thought control over the majority of the world’s population, who are brainwashed unto subservience, with barely a whim of discontent. The central character is Kurt Hills, a leading scientist of the day, with prodigicle abilities in neuroscience and bio-technological interfacing. The leading contributor to the creation of The Cerenet: a cerebral network which stands as next generation of our internet. He labours as a slave under the incredible demands made upon him by political leaders, the horrific experiments that he is forced to conduct upon live human subjects, his personal demons and mental illness. An unlikely hero, Kurt has long understood the individual nature of his position, and its potential ramifications. As the story begins, there has been a breach in the central security of the Cerenet mainframe. Government Agent Jame Sanus has the uncomfortable mission of finding a potential traitor amongst the staff of the mainframe facility, before the security of the network is threatened, and anarchy begins. Exploring the depths of the human psyche, to the extremities of contemporary astrophysics, this novel represents a complete quest for mans place in himself, and the universe. With the fate of humanity at state, is the end of the beginning of this one world order the time that we will witness the beginning of the end for all of us?