Conatus scribo

Tags

Borse Code, sex

I’ve started a manuscript called Borse Code; it will eventually be a book in Dutch. Occasionally, on some Wednesdays, I will post chapters I’ve written here – in English – to see if they work. Let me know what you think, alright? The scene too long, too short, for a book?

These attempts are not in chronological order.

Just before the start of this excerpt, my protagonist and his long-time girlfriend have decided to rejoin the social-media circus for research-reasons (the topic of which I will not disclose now). While driving home on a warm summer’s night, he’s started to sign on to Facebook; she was driving. Then they arrive home…

While Sally greeted Darwin by cuddling the long haired Berner Sennen, Harry walked past them without looking away from his screen, and plopped down on the sofa. He had just strategically filled his profile with the research-specific details, when Sally sat on his lap; her bare knees next to him on the sofa, and her buttocks under her short skirt heavy on his knees. She took the phone from his hands, and put it on the table behind her, without taking her green eyes from his. Then she put her arms on his shoulders, grabbed his head and kissed him passionately. Harry kised her back, took hold of her buttocks under her skirt and pulled her closer. He started to grow in his pants, while she wiggled her hips. He pressed his head back into the sofa, with which he forced her to move forward and press her breasts into his chest, as they still locked lips, tongues entangled. His hands moved up, under her t-shirt, towards her bra, which he managed to loosen after a little while. They both laughed mentally at a reference to Charley Sheen – Harry would never be that good.

They disentangled their tongues and they each pulled their t-shirt over their own head, after which they continued kissing. Talking was unnecessary; they knew each other well enough. Her naked breasts pressing against his chest pushed the tension up a few notches. He caressed her back, where he felt slight irregularities due to her tattoo. He’d grown so hard by now, that he was sure she would’ve noticed his hard-on through her panties.

Today he took the next initiative. He sat up straight, which put her nipples right about the level of his mouth. Without skipping a beat he took one nipple in his mouth, and the other breast and nipple received manual stimulation. His other hand travelled back to her buttocks, which he relieved of her panties.

Just before his fingers reached her labia, she suddenly got up. She sensually wiggled her hips, dropping her skirt and panties to her toes. She stretched herself with her arms above her head, and stood there a moment graceful as a nymph in front of him. Appreciative, desiring her, he allowed his eyes to explore her body. Even though she wasn’t famous for her beauty, Harry was proud that he could call this beautiful woman his own; nobody knew her like he did.

“You are beautiful,” he said.

Immediately she dropped to her knees, blushing shyly, pulled his pants down and start to give head passionately. With a pleasure moan he fell back into the sofa, and indulged in the moment, cautiously aware that he shouldn’t come just yet. Quite some time before that happened, he pulled back, lifted her up, and put her on the sofa; her turn. She was already very wet when his tongue touched her for the first time that night. A slight shudder travelled through her body, and the sounds of pleasure filled the room. He knew her body well, and just before she orgasmed, he penetrated her. While he moved above and inside of her, she fixed his eyes with hers, and moaned uncontrollably. The tension in her eyes increased quickly until, suddenly, she came explosively.

As two satisfied rag dolls they lay spent on the sofa, together. He caressed her face, his fingertip following her hairline. She held him tightly around his torso, with both arms. Between them the heat was tangible. Sweat made for a slippery sensation. But the mutual flow of wordless emotions was too strong to let go just yet. Until Sally found her voice.

“If we’re going to do this, I want a strict agreement. If I ever have to take your phone from your hands to get your attention, we quit it.”

Conatus scribo

Tags

book, Borse Code, conspiracies, conspiracy

I’ve started a manuscript called Borse Code; it will eventually be a book in Dutch. Occasionally, on some Wednesdays, I will post chapters I’ve written here – in English – to see if they work. Let me know what you think, alright? These attempts are not in chronological order.

“You still believe in conspiracy theories”, she said.

“Conspiracy theories? You think that what I’ve discovered isn’t true?”

“Indeed, I don’t think it’s true. As a rule of thumb, you should check how many people have to be sworn to secrecy in order to keep it a world wide secret. And that number in your theory is simply too great.”

“Five.”

“Five?”

“Yes, five. The rest is dead. Who those five are I will show you in a minute. But first I’ll address your allergy for conspiracies.” He started to get worked up, but he didn’t get the chance to finish. She interrupted him.

“Conspiracies are a result of atheism. In the past, the inexplicable chaos that this world is, was explained as the will of God, or whichever deity was locally revered. This chaos was structured referencing the different holy scriptures. And despite contradictions…” She interrupted herself. “Did you know there are supposedly people in India who believe contradictory things can co-exist – they explain it as the will of the gods; you may not understand it, but they – the gods – certainly will. But I digress. Religion structures the world, shapes this chaos surrounding us into something recognisable. Religion makes it manageable, and as long as everyone in a community believes in the same religion, it is easy to talk about it; it’s easy to explain to each other the order in the chaos – as everyone is talking from the same frame of reference. It takes a special kind of intelligence to be able to accept this chaos without religion! The desire for structure is deeply rooted in us. And when religion disappears, the average human searches for something new that provides guidance. And conspiracy theories are a grateful victim for this guidance. Science is not, because any good scientist will immediately admit that they know very little for certain. No scientific research is phrased with the certainty that conspiracy theories are. The latter tell you what the truth is, the former what research shows that the truth may be. The former portray the world as a structured place, with evil rich people at the top, who control us like puppets – just like an all mighty God does for the religious. And now you have concocted the latest chapter in the conspiracy gospel: Hailey has been developed by abuse and murder.”

“Your comparison with the Bible is…”

“I never mentioned the Bible.”

“That’s childish. You talked about religion and holy scriptures. The gospel even! I just add a name to it, and suddenly you haven’t said it. Don’t argue like a coward; stand for what you say. And have the same respect I’ve given you: let me finish.”

Silence.

“Your comparison with the Bible is accurate. In the Bible you can find a lot of decent advice, and a lot of nonsense. At the core the Bible is good, the explanation of the Bible isn’t always. The core of conspiracy theories was, at the turn of this century, that the richest of the rich in this world were enriching themselves shamelessly; and in the process they supposedly had the desire to control the poor; their goal is absolute power, and leaving the common man in hopeless poverty – and at the same time giving these poor the illusion of freedom. But that freedom was of course limited, because anyone who complained about it, would be exiled into the damned corner of crazies and conspiracy theorists. In that corner you can also find the crazies who claim that Finland doesn’t exist. Being associated with them is an easy way to exile a theory into the ridiculous.”

“Chemtrails.”

“Exactly. To make a theory seem ridiculous, all you need to say is that it looks like a chemtrails-theory. And nobody worth their salt azwill believe it any more – except the crazies. Serious thinkers, the rare intelligent people, no longer dare burn their fingers on the topic. And then the average people remain; which automatically means that you’ll also find incoherent, average studies that are easily discredited. But twenty years later an intelligent person like Piketty climbs in the pen and shows with statistics and numbers that the rich actually are enriching themselves. Shamelessly.”

He stopped. He had composed this rant on the spot. The conclusion of this story needn’t be verbalised, right?

“Sooo… You’re saying you’re one of those rare intelligent people and that Piketty is crazy.”

“You really should go into politics. You are a master in twisting words and misinterpreting conclusions. No, I am not a rare intelligent person. I can barely understand what Piketty writes, let alone that we operate at the same level. I’m only saying that at the core a narrative that appears like a conspiracy theory, needn’t be trashed automatically.

Around the turn of the century they were called the Illuminati, who were supposedly enriching themselves shamelessly. Following that accusation, the most outlandish and insane theories were added to it – for example that the Illuminati were one well-greased organisation. They aren’t – the world is chaos. But like I started saying, people desire order, so they make the order up. But the fact that the richest of the rich are mercilessly enriching themselves, was true. And John Keane added to that story how they are controlling the masses.”

“And you’re now going to tell me that you have a solution for a better world?”

“Who do you think I am? Karl Marx? Of course not! I am not one of the rare intelligent, did I tell you that? I have only discovered something isn’t right about Hailey – and I’d like this truth to be publicly known. I haven’t made anything up; I have refrained to add a motivation to the theory that would be swallowed by the conspiracy crazies like cake. No, the motivation of Stork and his cronies is just enrichment. But to get there, they don’t shy away from torture and murder.”

Silence. They both drank their coffee.

“Your passionate story made me forget for a moment why we were here. Hailey – that’s why we are here. Thank you for reminding me. I still think that you’ve made up a conspiracy theory. But you have argued passionately and convincingly why the core of your story could be true. I will take your story to the most intelligent person I know. And if he is convinced that your story is true, you can write it up in one coherent article and publish it; and I will pay for it.”

“And who might that person be?”