John Mark

By R J Devland

John Mark hated credit and debit cards.  He loved spending cash.  On a visit to a tourist candy store, John Mark attempted to pay for his carefully selected bag of peanuts. The store would not accept cash.  "Cards only", the clerk told him.  He had no card.  He vowed he would stop the usage of credit or debit cards.  Forever.  This story chronicles his journey to shutdown the nationwide payments gateway.  Get ready to sweat out the ordeal with John Mark and his buddy, Bob, the FBI and a nefarious foreign government cartel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R J Devland
• Release date: May 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393434689

Book preview

John Mark hated credit and debit cards.  He loved spending cash.  On a visit to a tourist candy store, John Mark attempted to pay for his carefully selected bag of peanuts. The store would not accept cash.  Cards only, the clerk told him.  He had no card.  He vowed he would stop the usage of credit or debit cards.  Forever.  This story chronicles his journey to shutdown the nationwide payments gateway.  Get ready to sweat out the ordeal with him and his buddy, Bob, the FBI and a nefarious foreign government cartel.

Chapter One

My name is John Mark .  That is my full name.  My mom gave me just two names as she thought three names for a small boy a bit cumbersome.  Once upon a time, I saw my name in the Bible, and thought, maybe, there could be significance in me after all.  But, that all dwindled after a few years when I saw that names were just names.  Names sometimes exemplify those elements of life by which other people identify us.  When more than one person shares the exact same name, then some elite geniuses came up with a plan to provide a number system, which, when applied to a specific to an individual person, more accurately gives individual identity.  The time came when my two names, John Mark, wasn’t good enough and a number, suffixed to my name, changed my life.  Another thing that changed for me centered around the fact all of a sudden, everyone wanted to know everything about me.  I am a boring expert in nothing.  But I do have a specialty.  I can do anything I set my mind to.  I was told that I exposed my intellect because of it.  I didn’t know about that, but I did make a startling discovery.  More about that later.

I am in a class of humans that shouldn’t have been.  I call myself a non-born.  It is funny word that depicts people who had a family member who almost met with certain death.  That person or persons must met another criteria.  They must have given birth to one of their grandparents or parents.  For instance, take my mother’s parents.  A bootlegger hid away bootleg liquor in their car, during the time of prohibition.  When they discovered it, they, being the honest people they were, destroyed the two suitcases of the contraband.  Well, the bootlegger met up with them in the big city and demanded the suitcases.  My grandpa, a happy-go-lucky jokester, convinced the man he never saw suitcases in his car.  The bootlegger shoved a pistol in his face and told him either he produces the suitcases or he dies.  My grandpa told him to just shoot, because as he can see, there aren’t any suitcases there.  The guy just looked at him and left.  There you have it.  I was non-born.

My dad joined the navy in World War Two.  His ship left the New York shipyard on a protective convoy to accompany oil tankers and soldiers going to England.  Out at sea, his ship developed engine problems and had to return stateside.  The ship dispatched to replace his ship in the convoy found itself in the sights of a German U-boat.  A couple of torpedoes sank the US Navy replacement ship.  I again was un-born.  On both sides of my family, my coming into the world ran into challenges, but not defeat.  Nothing could stop it.  That’s why I said I discovered something great.  That must be why I had this strange sense of insight.

My questions, about my existence, revolved around that personal numbering and the persistent lust for my whereabouts, by so many people.  I am not important.  Why does anyone care about where I am?  Why do they care about what I drink?  Why do people want to know the last time I had a bad cough?  Why do people want to know the last time I watched a certain movie?  I figured out why and wanted to stop it.  The problem with all of this centered on the wall of forces, beyond anyone’s control, which commanded the underlings to follow suit or be ostracized into the abyss of the non-borns. 

I looked back to where I first remember seeing my name in print.  My dad showed me the Bible, and turned to the Book of the Acts of the Apostles and showed me my name.  People fought over me.  That made me feel important.  Friends parted ways over me.  That made me feel even more important.  The more I read, the more fascinated I became over the impact those people made on society and the history of the human race.  I felt that people must view me as worthy of my name.  Then I read about the great delusion, and all about it’s particular time of appearance in the future.  I read all about the end-time as we would understand it.  I then read about a number.  That clinched it for me.  Right then I realized that what I read then was now in operation.  I added one plus one and got two.  I knew, when I read about it, that such a numbering system was bad. 

Good things start for good reasons.  I could image that knowing everything about everybody is a good business model.  Back when I first read about it in the Bible, the idea scared me.  Then, it made sense that companies all over the world would give their eye teeth to know the likes, dislikes, movements, friends, family and hundreds of other similar items of millions of people around the world. 

I really enjoyed going to a store, selecting the items I wanted, going to the checkout and checking out with a check or cash.  What was wrong with that?  I enjoyed shopping before the membership cards, the loyalty cards, points and such things that came into the shopping process.  I don’t like clerks asking me for my phone number.  The whole model is not good, but it is the model. 

It was one warm summer night in Gatlinburg, Tennessee that I realized just how bad things could get if good people just let things continue.  That night, I had made the rounds.  I had my packet of roasted, honey peanuts in one hand and my wallet in the other.  The small time vendor also sold popcorn, cotton candy, soft drinks, lemonade, homemade candy and a few other food items. 

That will be ten ninety-five, please.  The clerk said to me, noticing my struggle to balance all I had in my hands.

I handed a twenty to her. 

I’m sorry, but we only take cards.  You have one, don’t you?

Well, here, take back these peanuts.  I have already eaten some of them, as you can see.

I’m sorry sir, but I can’t take them back.  That will be ten ninety-five.  I do have others in line.

I don’t intent to sound mean or whatever, but I don’t have a card.  I have cash.  What’s wrong with cash?

Sir, I just work here.  Can you move to the side so I can check them out.  Then I will get back to you.

Sure thing.  But I’m in a hurry.  Maybe you could have put up a sign to warn your customers.

Like I asked before, please let me check them out.

I will pay for your stuff!  A voice shouted from the back of the line.  You can give me your cash.  I can still spend it!

Ok, thanks.  Come on up here, please.  I commanded him.

Once I left that store, I vowed to find a way out of this mess.  I went back to my room, which I paid for in cash, for a whole week.  But the little peanut shop couldn’t take cash.  Imagine.  Back at my room, I took out my phone from by laptop case.  I called a guy I hadn’t spoke to in a couple of years.  Surprised to hear my voice, he was even more surprised at my question. 

Bob, have you realized how difficult it is to spend actual money?

Yes, I have.  I am sick of being told I need a card, when I only have cash.

I have an idea that I would like to discuss with you.  I have a way to solve this problem, in theory at least.  Do you have a few days.  I’m at Gatlinburg.

Yes, I can come by morning.  Get me a room.  I will bring my wife along.  It will be a short vacation.

Bob and I worked for those three days on my idea.  He agreed that we should try the