In preparing for Caracas, I remembered my promise that I had made to Olive many times, to be the rebel rouser that would turn the entire setup upside down.

      Ah, but how to do it? How does one change the world in opposition to the powers that claim to rule the world? How does one face such a foe, especially in such a tragic time as was upon us, a time of general impotence? How does one create a lateral world when nobody even knows what it is? The world only knew the vertical whorehouse of empire that gave the term, sewer, a bad meaning. And this was justified.

      Even before the crisis had erupted, the traitors in high places had made sure that none of the thousands of Russia's missile systems were removed from the European borders of Russia, and that not a single American weapons system was eliminated from America's arsenals. So it was that US and Russian war ships and submarines were again plowing the Atlantic, as they always had, and were kept on a high security alert, lest anyone would exploit the remaining instabilities. The missile silos, bomber fields, naval bases, had all been shielded from the economic chaos. The war machine had been protected while the civilian side of the nation's structures had been shutting down. And over all that loomed the specter of biological war that nobody would even know if it started, before it was lost.

      "How do we win this one?" I said to Fred, when he telephoned us, about us being invited to the conference.

      Fred just smiled. "You have asked the wrong question," he said. "It's not how we win, but what we must become to win. This sets the giants apart from the mice," he said and began to laugh.

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Stories about  Sex from novels by Rolf A. F. Witzsche