OWL Book 3: The Secret Dialogues and Thoughts Dramatised

By d'ettut

We live on a planet that is being exploited unsustainably with a very limited future and this calls for the creation of world governance to control explosive global population growth and solve the entirely unreasonable disparity of wealth caused by rampant globalisation. Equi-poligion or 'EPL' is an emerging ideology supported by OWL, a new political party that is being fought for by the heroes of the story.

The baseline for the plot starts in OWL One World League Books 1 and 2. This describes the creation of OWL. Its formation is coloured by the vanity and human foibles of its creator, Sebastian. He, like most with political aspiration, is a very flawed individual. After a few murders and investigations into conspiracies, which are carried out in the Congress Library in Washington, OWL evolves as a credible alternative to normal party politics. It starts in Australia and quickly spreads internationally. Sebastian is supposedly murdered by global elites at the end of Book 2.

This sequel (OWL 3) starts with the anti-hero Sebastian, coming out of a drug induced incarceration in Dubai and waking in Timor-Leste. He finds Virginia, his erstwhile business partner and part time lover (sort of) is now leading OWL.

G.G, a phenomenally powerful member of the mysterious global elites convinces Virginia to embark upon a trillion dollar venture, F4F (Forests for the Future) which will achieve some incredible outcomes. (Incredible but incidentally proven by the author in the text, with a detailed exposition to 'wow' the reader). The fabulous wealth created allows her to infiltrate the elites. The formula for the enterprise creates a vast public company. The shareholders are OWL members; after all it is a public company. The enterprise also allows for the massive production of oxygen and absorption of carbon dioxide, whilst simultaneously creating more than a 1000 very fertile memorial parks (of 1000 hectares each) around the world. This joint cornucopia (environmental triumph and massive wealth creation) is a game changer in world politics.

Unknown to Virginia and Sebastian, G.G. and the global elites are using OWL as a vehicle to bring a new global feudal system to the world. Virginia has similar values with respect to global governance as the only solution to global instability; but there is a fundamental difference in approach. She works toward a cyber-democracy within the tenets of the new ideology, equi-poligion. G.G. works on a selective, quick fix, hidden agenda; a nuclear cauterisation of certain geographic locations. The denouement lies in who succeeds, if anybody. At this stage it is not certain. It could be Virginia's cyber-democracy or the elite's feudal world. A few more murders and the result will be known.

OWL Books 1 and 2 were released as a 1 volume eBook (and as a PoD). Hyperlink footnotes were used substantially to bring explanations and credibility to the conspiracies alluded to. This book (OWL 3) assumes the reader will now be familiar with the didactic instruction from those footnotes. Nevertheless, they can still appreciate this work as a stand-alone story; perhaps becoming sufficiently curious they will wish to access the first volume.

A website has been created to bring readers closer to the reality of OWL. www.owlvoter.com.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Mar 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781922368270

d'ettut

d’ettut is an enigma and intends to stay that way. They have no vested political interests apart from a desire to help facilitate a movement which could bring about an equitable global society. They do not aspire to any particular role in such a movement nor do they wish to gain anything financially. The books are intended to assist in the quest to help the world gain social fairness.Their literary style varies. None of it is intended to be entertaining. It is confronting, didactic and enlightening (one hopes). They write about social justice and target youthful, very literate, Harry Potter-type readers who are now real-world savvy and, like Harry, are bursting to take on the establishment. d’ettut’s first four works are presented as novels and describe social despondency in all its manifestations.Greenwars (1998), the first novel, essentially covers the fact that technology and its evolution can outstrip social evolution. Moral and ethical development of society is not able to keep pace with its own driving technology. This is all described in the form of an animal allegory; a kind of 21st century Animal Farm.The second novel, Pie Square (2000), describes a different aspect of social evolution. In this situation it is the benign exploitation of youth through a highly sophisticated interactive electronic based fast food chain. Using this device young people are groomed for a more creative and constructive contribution to society.In Vampire Cities (2000) the brashness, the harshness, of unfettered capitalism is the main theme. But the subthemes rock!Amber Reins Fall (2006) looks in detail at an individual struggling in the 1960s and early 1970s to come to terms with contemporary society and the need for there to be a progressive evolution towards a moral betterment. The main protagonist invents the self-help concept.The fifth work, OWL: One World League (2017), is neither fiction nor fact. It is a literary work called fusion fiction which creates a ‘sugar coated political treatise’ condemning overpopulation, encouraging world government and issuing a clarion call to form a new global cyber-democracy ‘before it’s too late’; ‘before the elite snuff out social media’.Fusion fiction they define as literary ‘bisociation’, to borrow a term used by Koestler and Edward de Bono. It’s a pairing of semi fictional plots with slabs of ‘borrowed’ and authentic text taken selectively from journals relevant to their thesis with no formal quotation or referencing. d’ettut says, ‘Like Andy Warhol paintings of unacknowledged Campbell’s soup cans, this is a collage of written down ideas, a creative plagiarism, to send a cerebral message.’OWL is supplemented by the website http://owlvoter.com/ which dares readers to unite and light the fire of revolution (or is it transformation?) for 21st century redemptive politics.

Book preview

OWL BOOK 3

THE SECRET DIALOGUES AND THOUGHTS DRAMATISED

by d’ettut

This is an IndieMosh book

brought to you by MoshPit Publishing

an imprint of Mosher’s Business Support Pty Ltd

PO BOX 147

Hazelbrook NSW 2779

https://www.indiemosh.com.au/

Copyright 2020 © d’ettut

All rights reserved

Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author and publisher.

Disclaimer

This story is entirely a work of fusion fiction. No specific character in this story is taken from real life. However, some characteristics, especially certain foibles are; these being common unfortunately to many human beings. Any resemblance to any particular person or persons living or dead is accidental and unintentional. The author, their agents and publishers cannot be held responsible for any claim otherwise and take no responsibility for any such coincidence.

Scarily prophetic, very insightful politically and socially. The shape of things to come.

John King Senior Engineer, Adelaide, South Australia

A discursive and fresh approach to the political and social anathema of human overpopulation.

Andrew Hooper (M.Ed.) Education Development Advisor, Vanuatu.

This will mess with your mind. Confronting thoughts on very contemporary issues.

Mark Dimmock Board Director, Sydney, Australia.

This is the text for transformational politics. Forget the revolution!

Ally Taylor, Graphic Designer, Blue Mountains, Australia

A new approach to nuclear Armageddon … d’ettut says Cauterisation is a harsh word to describe the most momentous occasion in the entire history of human civilisation. But it was an act that had to occur. Some would say it was the Armageddon that had been prophesised for hundreds if not thousands of years. It was the result of the uncompromising selfishness of the world’s leaders and especially the masses that tacitly supported them through their competitive greed and a blind indifference for so long to their relentless breeding and exploitation of the planet. He’s right.

Linley Stevens, Wentworth Falls Australia

Cosmology in a new, dazzling light; the end of religion.

Wayne Tomlinson Rotorua New Zealand

Overpopulation could be the greatest scourge confronting human existence; but OWL says its outdated governance that allows this, that is the greater scourge.

Dr Walter Slaghuis Hobart, Tasmania

OWL BOOK 3

THE SECRET DIALOGUES AND THOUGHTS DRAMATISED

Note: In this OWL Book 3 there are few footnotes.

In my Books 1 and 2, OWL One World League, (2017), there are comprehensive footnotes which cover a wide range of controversial topics like the Rothschild Formula, The U.S. Reserve Bank, The Glass-Steagall Act and so on. These 58 footnotes have didactic intent. They are there to take discussion and debate to a high level outside of the book. They also provide credibility to the conspiracies uncovered.

In this Book 3 no such convention is used. It is assumed the reader will have read Books 1 and 2 and followed the footnotes or is prepared to search the conspiracies online as they are alluded to.

This book is intended to finalise thought and then action to galvanise the world to a new order, whatever form it takes.

d’ettut.

FOREWORD

We are right on the edge of a great cosmic awareness and nuclear annihilation, all of us, now. It took fuck-ups in so-called Western democracies and particularly within political parties to bring us to this sad, sullied state. I quote George Washington, president of the convention for the writing of the U.S. Constitution and first American President (1796). However [political parties] may now and then answer popular ends, they are likely in the course of time and things, to become potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people and to usurp for themselves the reins of government, destroying afterwards the very engines which have lifted them to unjust dominion. Maybe it is time to consider the following …

‘EQUI-POLIGION’ (EPL)

This is the state of world affairs where equity in social justice and global wealth are balanced against a cosmological insight replacing religion and a new approach to politics … all as promulgated by OWL (One World League).

Soon

How serene Sydney was when the ultimately expected, happened unexpectedly. Some distant rumbling. Multiple orange columns climbing into the sky. Smoky arcs sneaking to and from infinity.

A quietness reigned that united death in this place with the living world.

Sebastian had reserved a special plot of land here. He owned a little of Wentworth Falls cemetery and hoped someone would ensure his burial would follow the protocols he had willed. Eerie solitude dripped all around and he had no remorse. A lot of the world’s problems had just been solved. Loneliness, despair, surrender; last days in a world where the entire sentient population had given up. Forced and reckless joviality to assuage the hopelessness would soon bubble forth, he thought.

It’s not what she expected. Nuclear missiles were supposed to be chillingly accurate and devastatingly joyous in their destruction. But not much really happened. Virginia guessed there might have been some uncalculated misses. Funny she thought how that connoted their ‘missile’ name. It looked like Hornsby had been hit and maybe Liverpool. It was hard to tell. But not Sydney. Her uninterrupted view from the Parramatta penthouse showed a shining city bathed gold in bomb-light. She had a strange feeling of relief … and the quietness thumped. This was the beginning and not the end.

As she gazed to the road below she noticed on the top of a military vehicle that sped with intent to a destination unknown a familiar logo in stark white contrast to the camouflage paint; ‘OWL’ …

London. Not what was expected? Not a dent in centuries of painstaking civilisation. Dark, smoky smudges on the horizon told G.G. the pre-emptive strikes had done their selective best. The Chinese had tweaked the neutron bombs after all. Minimal structural damage. Massive casualties to organic tissue, human or animal. And no lasting radiation. Ironic it was called the ‘capitalist’ bomb. But what a legacy for OWL. Billions to bury. The ultimate act of renewal and finally global sustainability …

To the world at large a nuclear attack had occurred as predicted by many. It was quick and supremely destructive. But the cunning of the target selection and the alliance of the perpetrators was unknown.

And for me the narrator, peace at last, at any cost. This was not war. This was an unavoidable investment of a few billion premature deaths; but we have just saved the planet and human civilisation.

Let me relay to you the way this historical event unwound.

Chapter 1

Depois

Sebastian was slowly regaining his senses. He had floated in and out of consciousness and the private lounges in Dubai and Bali airports. There were few interruptions to his prolonged but forcibly induced sleep in the prisons of luxurious first class aircraft bedding.

Arrival at Timor-Leste airport was a shock. The heat; no air-conditioning. Waiting in sweaty queues; no express rows. Floods of perspiration leaching out the narcotics pumped into him. Not a totally nasty experience though. His numbed body combined with the residue of injected toxins gave a sleepy euphoria. He was propped up by a blur of burly uniforms, then smelly fumes, leather car seats and more sleep.

He woke to a cacophony of dog shrieks and cockerel calls. Consciousness on morning one. A young frizzy haired woman sat next to him on a large bed. She spoke in recognisable English continuing a broken sentence. He had no memory of its beginning.

‘Depois … you were brought here by military. Big men. Not nice. Not ours. Maybe Australian. Maybe no’ … Depois meant he had missed something. Who cares, he was feeling relaxed.

‘Depois … they said you stay here six months … and give me this.’ She held up a handful of grubby one hundred U.S. dollar notes. She slowly counted, like playing patience, whilst building three stacks of tens. Three thousand dollars. ‘That good for six months … don’t know after that … but that for me … for rent.’ Then she pulled out another bigger pile of hundred dollar notes from an apron pocket, notes that were crumpled and dirty, fat and struggling to burst from the enormous rubber band that strangled them. ‘This five thousand for Sebastian. You have fun and food and lots of drink. They say you drink lots of wine. This is lot of wine.’ She passed the pile of notes to him. ‘I keep your room clean. Do washing. Everything fixed. You from England?’

‘Well no I’m Australian,’ Sebastian half lied.

‘Lots of Australians here. I, Alita. I your help. Maybe you leave in six months. I don’t know. But now you go to Timor Plaza. Only five minutes’ walk. Plenty food, wine and girls if you want. Maybe they don’t want you. You too old now for girls.’

Sebastian was thrown. Too old. He didn’t feel it, well most of the time. Then again under house arrest; in the middle of nowhere; can’t remember even arriving. Godforsaken sweaty hole. He was crawling back to consciousness. Air-condi­tioning … good. Solid big bed … good. Mosquito net yet to be hung, draped on chair … sort of good. He got up and left Alita (funny name) sitting on the bed and stumbled out of the bedroom into a combined lounge and small dining area. All a bit dim; dim in light and dim in reality. There was a large kitchen. Well large for him. He never cooked. Good sized bathroom. Tried the taps. No hot water. Who would use it anyway in this inferno? Always thirty eight degrees Celsius he guessed with only humidity changing; alternating from bad to worse.

The walk was eight minutes straight down the main road but on a side walk that was treacherous. Open manholes accessing non-existent plumbing. Deep enough to break a leg and no one to claim liability from. And cars and even more motor bikes driving on the wrong side of the road when it was obviously the most expedient way to get from point A to point B. Timor Plaza was an oasis of civilisation midst the chaos of deprivation. Multiple storeys of shops and restaurants. A gym. A cinema. And more buildings under construction. This was giving Dili a town centre; evidently through the foresight of industrious Chinese, many of whom had lived in Timor for generations. The Chinese were now in a state of glorious ascendency here in the land of the occupied. But wait … depois … the cocktail bar. Great views of the coast-line. Five floors up. Lazy fans idly pushing through a breeze that cooled the hot and smelly expats who dreamed of a colonial past they could never mention and certainly had never experienced, only fantasised about guiltily. Ah yes wannabe lotus eaters. And yes women, not girls. Volunteers escaping a life of teaching and nursing that had become as irrelevant as the lack of culture they were escaping and the marriages that had evaporated or gone sour. Jaded Australians mainly.

It didn’t take long, Sebastian noticed. There is something very unattractive about underarm stubble and she had lots of it. No name just incessant prattle from an intruder intent on sizing him up. New boy on the block. Possibly a free drink.

‘You’re a volunteer! Newbie hey! Obviously an Oz.’ She chanted this victoriously as though she had just completed a gruelling assignment.

‘No I’m not. Not a volunteer or really Australian. I’m here on a six month sabbatical … it appears.’ The last two words he mumbled. He was still guessing the real intent of his Middle Eastern kidnappers as he now considered those who had dumped him in Timor.

She didn’t seem interested and clasped her hands behind her head as she leaned back on the wicker chair recently commandeered. He wished she had sleeves. Her darkened armpits looked like two sweaty vaginas winking at him. He was sufficiently suppressed not to offer her a drink. The bar was sparse. Two Timorese bartenders, both male, were engaged in deep conversation ignoring Sebastian’s large empty glass. He had drained the red wine which had been iced up three times. Dumping shards of ice into warm Portuguese red wine was obligatory. It couldn’t be drunk at room temperature for fear of him being confused with a vampire. And the white wine was undrinkable in any state, cold or warm; inebriated or not. The ice melted so quickly he felt more and more virtuous the more he drank, knowing it was being diluted all the while. So many people had suggested it was so much more civilised to add water to the wine as they do in Europe. Hah! … He needed at least two ice top-ups per glass. The barmen ignored him.

‘So you’re not a volunteer’

‘I’m on a sabbatical’

‘From what … university I suppose … academics always popping in here … saving the world … or Timor at least’

‘Wrong supposition … I’m a submarine commander’ he lied.

‘You’re too old’

‘The pressure of guiding nuclear submarines through the Barrier Reef. It’s dangerous and stressful. You age quickly!’ He lied again. ‘I’m only forty five.’ He had to get rid of her. Better off drinking by himself and chatting to the barmen. They liked practising English.

‘Australia hasn’t got any nuclear submarines.’

‘Not that you’d know. Very hush hush. On loan from the Americans.’ He was enjoying the lying.

‘A lot of Ozzie women here. Mostly volunteers. Mostly gay. Very feminist.’ She said this with such authority Sebastian longed for solitude. He gestured to one of the barmen who had noticed his iced Shiraz was no more.

‘Yes very feminist. Very politically astute. All upset about Australia ripping off the Timorese oil reserves.’ She had the glazed look of someone not used to drinking and talking sense.

Sebastian couldn’t resist. ‘Wonder where they think they’d get the billions to develop a resource that had halved in value in the last few years. The world is afloat in oil and gas and everybody is looking at alternative energy sources to oil anyway.’ He looked at his unwanted drinking partner. Probably an ex-ballerina. She had the titless, lithe shape.

‘What are you staring at?’ She demanded and glanced at her empty wine glass. He wasn’t going to fall for that one. Nor was he going to get into a meaningless dialogue on stale political agenda. He had learned the art of internalised monologue which he found immensely interesting, so said no more and let his mind wander. Why is it a handful of ordinary humans, well 1%, control about 50% of the world’s wealth? 80% of the richest of the rich have a combined income higher than that of half a billion of the poorest. Wow! He calculated, earning a million times that of their fellow humans. Not bad. But hardly fair. He hadn’t uttered a word.

‘I’m going’ she said and slid off her chair like a seal sliding off a rock. ‘Bye.’ His cerebral soliloquy continued. She left muttering the ‘c’ word at him.

And she didn’t mean communist. Besides Sebastian wasn’t a communist; even in the slightest; if that was what she meant by the ‘c’ word; which she didn’t.

He guessed she was a super brittle feminist, a poised thespian try-hard, and a failed heterosexual monogamist who was now evaluating the advantages of becoming a lesbian as she hovered around middle-age. On the other hand, he as an enlightened introspectionist, considered himself to be the archetypal, OWL supporting, participatory policy advocate ready to bring a new form of democracy to the world. By revolution if necessary; a soft revolution of course.

No he definitely was not a communist and therefore OWL couldn’t be a communist front or even remotely sympathetic to communism.

‘I don’t think she likes me,’ he mumbled to the approaching barman. She, the titless intruder, threw some money at the counter, deliberately carelessly. ‘Yes another red please; lots of ice. Yes just me. Not her!’

Damn, he thought. We at OWL allow ownership of private property. Communists don’t. We allow private ownership of companies and organisations too, so long as the appropriate taxes are paid. We stand for mixed economies. Total state owned enterprises don’t work, as we found out. Nor does unfettered capitalism. There has to be a balance. In a mixed economy those utilities and agencies that don’t shape up should be returned to government after a fair evaluation of private finance performance. Has the product or service offered been done cost effectively, in a timely manner and to the highest reasonable quality?

Why can’t six or is it seven, or even eight billion ordinary people have an orchestrated global revolution that redistributes wealth on an equitable basis? Hmm. And reduce the world’s population. The poor are so fecund. Pay them not to breed for a generation or two. Still fuck. Have fun. But don’t breed. In his grander moments Sebastian’s discursive mind knew no limits. Effective world governance had always been OWL’s objective; the emphasis on ‘governance’ not ‘government.’ He could wax eloquently about this for hours.

Globalism allows for the creation of massive wealth. Market sizes are vast. But taxes must also be globalised and standardised. This would ensure fairer distribution of that wealth.

Brexit had been our biggest failure in the move to globalisation. After hundreds of years of internecine wars a European union was created which provided advantages on a huge scale. Economic benefits, peace, protection of health and on the list goes. Yes some cost. Inevitably more politicians! To Sebastian this of course raises the question of representation and representative government in the 21st Century. For the whimsical few who apparently supported Brexit, there was in reality hardly any support. They had rushed in an emotional, cynical and political decision with no consideration for the consequences. The European Union’s creation was the beginning of governance on a global scale. Many couldn’t see the benefits. So their parochial thinking stymied world peace before it could even begin and global survival was under even further threat. Surely, he thought, couldn’t sophisticated statistics be used to define demographic, psychographic and geographic parameters for more representative samples when defining and executing policies? Computers were here to help us make better decisions, relying less on rhetoric and career led misinformation.

But then again Brexit had a far more sinister side than was broadly accepted. Maybe the perpetrators had in fact considered the consequences. Sebastian was extremely well versed by now in the Rothschild Formula and one aspect had stuck in his mind the moment that Brexit had become a public issue. The greatest appeal of the creation of the European Union, well above any economic considerations, was ‘peace’. After all the European countries had been in a state of perpetual war for centuries. But that is contrary to the Formula which sees ‘war as the ultimate discipline to any government … to involve a country in war or the threat of war it will be necessary for it to have enemies with credible military might … if an enemy does not exist at all, then it will be necessary to create one by financing the rise of a hostile regime … if a government declines to finance its wars … it will be necessary to encourage internal political opposition, insurrection, or revolution … the unspoken objective is perpetual war …’ Sebastian wasn’t sure whether others shared his view. It hadn’t been discussed as far as he was concerned. Surely David Cameron, the Prime Minister at the time of Brexit’s birth as a concept would have realised the Rothschild Formula implications. If he had then the whole referendum should immediately be declared null and void. This surely would be supported by the E.U. If he hadn’t then he shouldn’t have been Prime Minister in the first place

As he drained his iced-up red wine glass he thought back to the selection versus election arguments he and Virginia had so many times over the years. If we have completely random selection of samples like in the jury selection model she fought for we could get rid of constituencies in the traditional sense. That would allow for a culling of the number of politicians we have been afflicted with.

And then … depois … he started thinking about OWL and Virginia and got a searing headache. Ah depois! That magic word. In Tetum it literally meant ‘and then’. The local Timorese were great story tellers. ‘And then’ was added as each spoken paragraph finished. This of course should have meant sometime or other, riveting denouement of some kind. Well occasionally denouement occurred but not often enough for Sebastian. And certainly not riveting enough, unless you considered the local stray dog being run over by a motor bike. So very riveting! He liked to listen to stories that made a profound point; delivered an insightful message or left the audience in hysterics and guessing because of clever irony and humour. That didn’t happen in East Timor. It was like one ‘depois’ too few were in the stories, usually told at funerals. There were lots of funerals … such a high mortality rate. Especially from fatal lung infections. A lot of pollution and dirty air blew through Dili and everybody chain smoked. Not much hope of rattle-free lungs and long life.

Now it was dusk. Home time beckoned through the walls that opened out onto smoky-street sea views. A growing soupy grey filtered in. Sebastian had to avoid the dark. He stumbled out of the bar. The dark means danger in Timor-Leste, especially in Dili.

Chapter 2

A Word from Sebastian’s Sponsor

If we are going to enrich the watery and unnourishing soup of human wisdom gained from millennia of mistakes into something socially useful we need to break out of the narcissistic ambition and the egocentricity of today’s politicians. We need to start now! … Before it’s too late. Let’s see politics today for what it really is. A tribal cesspool of connivance, personal power, greed and cant. Voters (totally unnecessary as they are), need to stop treating politics like a celebrity quest; stop barracking for teams and start supporting good policies wherever and whoever they come from. Let’s find genuine, empathetic people who will try a new system of governance and not treat it as a career step, nor crave the aggrandizement of cheap publicity. Instead they will earn respect and fame through commitment and honesty. No more political parties, in both senses of the word. No more ‘opposition’ either. It’s not needed in a 21st century cyber-democracy. But more about that later.

Supreme self-awareness is needed. Not self-indulgence. (For the sake of human progress stop the selfies!). As narrator I want to make it clear we are at an evolutionary crossroad. We are on the brink of our own extinction. Or at best we could be at a point of transition of Homo Sapiens to Homo Deus as Harari in his book Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow. (2017) Vintage. London. (P 17) puts it. Maybe he has over-stated it. Maybe not. Maybe millions of people worldwide are thinking the same as I am right now. I hope so. Maybe you’ve heard it all before. Or you thought it all before; or you think somebody else said it some time ago. Or its even déjà vu Well that’s good! When many people share the same thoughts and values they become the zeitgeist. That can be the foundation of civil change. So read on, please.

Clearly some of our civilisations’ members still indulge in, in fact seem to enjoy, brutish, primitive behaviour. Sometime in ten thousand years, if we survive as a species, we might look back at ourselves and wonder why such violence existed. Others, like Harari describes, are displaying behaviours right now one would hope are characteristic of a new humane step on the stairway to cosmic evolutionary perfection, whatever form it takes.

Supreme self-awareness is for those who consciously and constantly focus on a next evolutionary step. They are confident they are in control. Whereas suppressed self-awareness belongs to those who have fleeting, not fluid thoughts about the same matters and probably don’t have the motivation or resources at their disposal to do anything about it.

This brings me to OWL. OWL Books 1 and 2 (one volume) were about the quest for a social or political movement which could provide the resources for attainment of ‘sufficient’ self-awareness to turn the world around. They were written in the context of predictable human frailty (particularly demonstrated by the character Sebastian), in all its manifestations. And the book’s form was intended as didactic vignettes; maybe even parables of a sort. OWL Book 3 is to provide whatever is necessary to demonstrably facilitate ‘supreme’ self-awareness.

Now creating a trillion dollar enterprise and providing a charismatic leader to OWL like Virginia, another character in the previous two books could help this. From my point of view the most efficient way to allow human civilisation to grow to its true potential is to ‘go with the elites’ (which incidentally I am currently doing) and let the next human evolutionary step manifest itself in whatever way they accept. After all they control everything now anyway.

But Sebastian doesn’t want this to happen. (Remember I, d’ettut, am supposed to be your de facto representative defending democracy at its best through OWL. Well, if not right now, I will be after you have finished with this book. Notice I didn’t say read this book; and didn’t say novel, just book.).

Do you remember in OWL Book 1 Calhoun’s experiments with rats? Artificially over-populated colonies of rats would indulge in cannibalism, random acts of killing, homosexuality and so on. To me those pathological symptoms are reflected in an overpopulated human world right now. Maybe we haven’t got to cannibalism yet. But it’s only a matter of time if food runs out. See I even think acts of terrorism, war, and gender convergence and so on are nature’s way of handling overpopulation, even if we think we are in conscious control with marital equality, gender bending and a host of other ephemeral causes as they will turn out to be in the history of human kind. The answer, Sebastian thinks, is good world governance. And so do I as this is a critical part of what I call ‘equi-poligion’.

But we differ as to what constitutes ‘good governance’. I think global nuclear warfare manipulated by the elites will quickly fix our overpopulated planet. Cruel but effective. A post-apocalyptic feudal society worldwide is conceivably very attractive to the elites to quickly fill the governance gap, which will undoubtedly occur. It probably would be attractive to the class they would govern too if that class is wealthy enough. That is if they have no distractions to a sybaritic life, like mortgages, flat screen TV, school fees and so on. But not to Sebastian who still thinks he has a role to play. He says we have to confront overpopulation too. But it is better morally and pragmatically if a new form of ‘cyber-democracy’ prevails and at the same time preserves some form of humanity and equitable resource distribution globally. To him this is OWL’s responsibility. So, let me say now ‘equi-poligion’, my sublime creation, will appeal to him; and actually to everybody once they understand it. Implementation is the key. The Devil they say is in the detail. How true! Hence this book.

Harari thinks anything ‘cyber’ will lead to a ‘data religion’. That means ultimately we end up with unthinking ritualism, the stuff of all religions. I see the ultimate data extrapolation not as a religious order but