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Philosophical. Erotic. Sarcastic. Thrilling.
As a little boy, the “visionary” experienced his mother’s wholehearted love and it made him the happiest child in his imaginary world. Then one night his mother was murdered and he was brutally catapulted back to the cruel reality. He avenged her death by shooting her killer that very same night. The events shaped his development for the rest of his life. As an adult he wanted to change the world fundamentally, make it beautiful and just. Because the world had become a playground for monsters.
He believed in mankind’s potential, as an interracial mix of all the existing races, and dreamt about creating a world ruled by different standards. A single worldwide community which treated everyone justly so that nobody had to suffer anymore. A world in which famine and drought, poverty and excessive wealth were a thing of the past. An educated world, with the objective of man’s progress and evolvement, which knew no money, no perverted politics and no oppression. A society whose ethics were based on logic and welfare instead of limiting religions and doctrines. Without economic restraints. A society where everybody had a function according to his or her cognitive and physical abilities. His vision was based on the thoughts of the greatest thinkers in history: Baruch Spinoza, Aristotle, Socrates, Newton, Einstein, Kant and many more. He continued their ingenious work by connecting and enlarging their ideas. It was a necessity in a world governed by money, perverted politics, one-sided interests and egotism. Like Spinoza before him, he composed his vision in tenets addressing subjects such as society, economy, religion and ethics. His vision, rather than a doctrine, was meant to form the basis for continual evolution. The Syndicate, an organization he was trying to establish, would unite the world’s wisest and most intelligent people to create a new world. But people sooner sold their souls to the current devil, money, than to believe in a future vision. He therefore made sure to compromise and indebt everyone so that they were all subjected to him without any hope of escape. He had to enslave them in order to free them. Free them for new ideas. The irony of his life… He didn’t judge people as stupid. In a soulless society they didn’t stand a chance of finding fulfilling tasks. In his society, however, everyone would be able to contribute fairly. But people were still the weak point in his concept. And he knew that. But what would happen once impertinence, love, stupidity, perversion, sloth and ingenuity clashed? Real life would happen! With its own uncontrollable dynamics.
Rico lived a life of leisure. A permanent party with excursions to Havana on a Mafia yacht or visits to striptease bars. His life followed a pattern which confused everyone. The syndicate as much as his friends. His girlfriend studied Business Management in Florida and he had accompanied her. The syndicate was targeting her because she had enormous potential. But, contrary to Rico, she lived an immaculate life. Would the syndicate be able to compromise her and recruit her for their side? This part of the book is written in the present tense and from Rico’s perspective. He addresses the reader directly and insults him, thus severely criticizing society. Although Rico’s outpourings are primitive and his thoughts extremely exhausting, they are always based on enigmatic, complex philosophical and psychological concepts. He subconsciously analyses everything he does and says and is caught in an inner conflict with society’s moral values which have rubbed off on him. Simultaneously he logically questions the sense of these values. As the plot unfolds the visionary’s and Rico’s stories become more and more intertwined until the connection between them becomes clear at the end of the book.
The extreme contrast between the two narrators’ perspectives is at the heart of the story. Moods vary deliberately to force the reader to question if everything he considers as natural is still natural from the newly acquired viewpoint. In our world the truth is only what we accept as the truth. From our perspective. For our convenience. Through our ignorance. Because we have long ago ceased to think for ourselves. We let others do the thinking for us! In this book the reader is being challenged to re-evaluate if everything he blindly accepts actually makes sense.
There is no right and wrong. There’s no good and evil. There are only perspectives. Perspectives of political, economic and religious aspects. Is it possible to declare with certainty which of these are right or wrong? And if you try to, aren’t you forgetting that everything actually concerns human beings? Human beings who die from thirst and hunger while the powerful of this world ensure that this won’t change? Power, influence, money. These yardsticks would no longer apply in the new world.
This novel is a thought experiment.
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Spring inspired nature’s reawakening. Rays of sunshine, pervading the clearing in the morning dew, warmed the still cool forest air. The crispness, the smell of the grass, of the moist timber, the moss, filled his lungs with pure energy. He was ten years old. He treasured those walks with his mummy.
The warmth and the tender grasp of her hand, the smoothness of her skin, her caressing glances, overflowing with happiness, love and devotion, made him feel safe and snug. In the universe of a ten year old who knew love like no other. The rich green, the glowing, orange sunbeams, here and there still traces of a mist uncovering the colourful patterns of the light, completed the idyllic image. In the perfect little world of a ten year old...
Initially muffled, then increasingly loud screams disturbed him. They were piercing, terrified, repeatedly accompanied by “no, please no!!” resonating terror, panic and deadly fear. Without hope. Without a chance.
Her big, lifeless eyes stared vacantly… and revealed helplessness. Fear… He gazed at her for long minutes and all he saw was a lifeless shell. No love, no laughter in her eyes. Everything he so adored about her. Her smiling eyes, the way she talked to him and looked at him. The way only the miracle of love could turn a look into a love poem. The safety.
From that day on he was broken. And from that day on he no longer dreamed about the day in the forest with his mum. About the day when he experienced complete happiness. In his perfect little world which now no longer existed. And he promised himself that he would recreate that world. No matter how long it would take, no matter how rocky and painful his path would be. He would follow that path. Silently. Without compromise. And he would lead everyone else onto the same path. And he would beat this perverted, ignorant world with its own weapons. Because the world had become a playground for monsters.
Men are intelligence incarnate! No need to discuss this fact or disagree with it. But what women are is still uncertain. It has, however, been established that they came from a parallel world of an intrinsic universe. Irrevocably so. (Perhaps we’ll find out together what they were and what they are – this book is pretty long!) A hot summer’s day. The sun shines so mercilessly, a clever fast food vendor would make a fortune if he fried eggs on my head; the healthy, fat-free option. The temperature would be just right.
I direct my attention to the car park where a large number of black, white, yellow and red beauties, and their corresponding combinations, are running around. One could show their picture to the clinically dead in the hospitals to revive them without the need for electroshock therapy. Because the girls are breathtakingly beautiful. (The clinically dead start breathing again and those who are breathing stop doing it. A paradoxical point in my description, but I won’t explore it in more detail…) Suddenly somebody knocks at the van.
«Yo babe, what`s up?» I say in a tired voice, imitating the slang one can learn in seconds flat and don’t actually expect a reply to such a moronic question. Then I see her: Miss World, Moon and Mars, who gazes at me through artless eyes and says: «Hi! I saw your car and I was sure you’d be glad to see me!» She innocently flutters her eyelashes. Like a fawn who’s just spotted a hunter. Of course I’m delighted to see her. And if the chick (who looks at me so innocently) can read my mind and still hasn’t run away, we have the prerequisites to make a man’s dreams come true.
«Isn’t fate ironical?» I observe quietly. «Everything one does has a purpose,» I say, trying to appear philosophical, contemplative, ironic, intelligent, introvert and extrovert. All at the same time. «Apart from the blue wig, the eccentric makeup and the darkness, nothing is different from last night. Only that I can see your front today. Your beauty takes my breath away! And when I’m breathless, I become poetic!»
«I like the smell coming from your van,» she says with enthusiasm. «But smoking weed on your own ain’t much fun!»
«Be my guest, Milady, and allow me to offer you the very best!» I pick up on her idea. She gets in and sits down on one of the seats. I hope that the contours she’ll leave on the cushions will provide me with plenty of material to regale my grandchildren when I tell them all these stories over Christmas dinner. At which my future children’s evil looks will try to shut me up and my future ex-wife will attempt to make the message of my stories sound more harmless with her scanty explanations…
«Isabelle! That’s not a name. That’s poetry. It‘s the sun awakening the cold earth in the morning with its warming rays. It’s the water that turns the barren desert into an oasis. The sound of your voice alone elevates me above the rainbow where the world proceeds in slow motion. Where beauty moves you to a state of inner peace and harmony. As one with the elements. Each breath smells of you and lemongrass and is escorted by the blue-green waves breaking against the rocks. Endlessly. To the rhythm of our heartbeat. And we simply watch for eternity.» (And yes, there are blue-green waves breaking against the rocks over the rainbow. Immerse yourselves in the description, in the atmosphere of the moment.« I am Rico. And all my gold chains are real. As real as you here with me!» I hope she also has a sense of humour.
Engrossed in my monologue, I suddenly notice that she’s already lying naked in front of me. Which is confusing. My genetic programming says first ‘hunt the prey’, then ‘catch the prey’ followed by ‘conquer the prey’ to finally ‘mate with the prey’. To ensure the preservation of my genetic material. But now I do what I always do when I’m cognitively overtaxed. Take my clothes off, wear nothing but my naked muscles, and quicker than you can stick your hand down your trousers when you’re watching one of those silly sex education films from the seventies, I find myself lying beside her. She must know what she’s doing, seeing that she was the first to undress.
Unbelievable! It takes an entire childhood to receive a proper, ethically correct education, completed by a boyhood in the church choir where you have to frequently sit on the knees of the pastor who lets you in on his secrets. While one of his hands is busy inside his pants. And the other one… but we won’t talk about that because we all know: “What happens in the church, stays in the church”.
«Rico wanted me to show him my tits,» says the snake from reception who is actually Lilith* and still ensures there’s tension between lovers and people in general. And who manipulated Eve to tempt Adam. Adam, the spineless, slightly mentally deficient father of mankind – evolution’s crowning glory, no, not evolution’s, but… God’s lack of imagination.
*God created Adam and Lilith out of clay. Lilith didn’t want to be subordinate to Adam, considering herself to be his equal. What was the first thing women did after God created them? They had opinions. And not opinions which differed from men’s opinions, but opinions which opposed them.
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A chapter in history was coming to an end. Slowly and painfully. And politics could do nothing to countermand it.
The capitalist market economy was collapsing.
And in this world of ever more complex market interrelationships and interdependencies it became apparent that the Titanic of the economy, the globalised world, huge and thought to be unsinkable, would end up the same way the ship did.
Long gone were the times when old, bearded English gentlemen created economical and societal concepts that aided the world away from the dark days of feudalism and plunged it into a phenomenal, economic revolution. Old philosophers should have enriched us with ideas, visions and concepts. But we were blind. Refused to read the last chapter of their ingenious work. Also refused to read the subtitles. Consistently. And now the curse of our stupidity took shape and showed us the meaning of the subtitle ‘Critique of Political Economy ’…
And that was what he hated! He hated the short-term thinking. His vision was a world with a single, innovative economic model where the objective wasn’t figures, growth and gain, but to provide for the world. Where the privileged weren’t catered for at the expense of the poor.
A non-monetary system. A system where nobody died from starvation or thirst. A system that distributed resources more justly. For everybody. A system that treated everyone the same. Of course, everybody was different, and would remain different. Therefore each individual would fulfil his tasks in a globally consolidated society according to his physical and cognitive abilities. Nobody would know envy or hatred. Because everybody would be proud to contribute. To maintain a world where nobody died of famine or drought and nobody fought. A world where everyone united and assumed equal responsibility to advance the human race. His eyes shone at the thought of leading a beautiful, genetically perfect, single human race, composed of all the existing ones, in a structured and clean world full of love. A world that knew no evil. No prophets and no gods. No power and no influence. Shone at the thought of creating a world for a higher being. For a being who broadened his consciousness through education and nurture…
The fragrance of the orange trees‘ flowers - white, small, delicate, beautiful - was intensive. A tree which bore both fruit and flowers. Hope and fulfilment all at once. His favourite tree. He felt the sun, the scent of the flowers, with each breath he took. His lungs could never get enough of nature’s beauty. Inhaled it deeply. So deeply that he still hoped to sense the fragrance long after it had vanished. The sun warmed the grass, the leaves, the olives. The palette of scents would have filled any heart with joy and hope. But not his. Because the hope in his heart had become a terrible, painful compulsion. And the painful certainty that it would be his life’s task and beyond to reach the goal. The earthly paradise. And paradise was just a metaphor for something man couldn’t achieve. Not yet… Because of his laziness, complacency, stupidity and impertinence.
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The author Rafael di Giorgio is a citizen of the world. He embarked on his writing career after having been abducted by aliens who conducted unspeakable, erotic experiments on him. (He quite enjoyed it!)
Born in Romania, in 1973, he turned into an observer and critic of society, political system and the media at an early age and realised that “None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free.” J.W. Goethe.
He completed his M.A. in Creative Media in London with his thesis on media manipulation.
His debut novel “The Miami Syndicate”, published 2015 in German and English worldwide, encourages readers to consider if everything they regard as normal is actually normal from their newly-gained perspective! In our world the truth can only be what we accept as such. From our perspective. Through our laziness. Through our ignorance. We tend to forget that we are dealing with human beings. People who starve and die of thirst while the ruling classes ensure that this won’t change. Power, influence and money – those are the values of our “democratic”, “free” world. And we don’t even question them...
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