Complicit Simplicity - a hackers end game

My sovereign career was the invoking of Camouflage. In various guises I have received both praise and condemnation for my efforts. Privacy technology is like the golden hour I'm enjoying. It's not the sunset itself, it's the subtle sensory transitions surrounding a sunset that compose my favorite hour of the day.

During sunsets, hues play over clouds in a constantly shifting array. Your eyes are pulled to new locations, never letting one impression maintain preeminence. If you desire to return to a previous fresco, it has vanished, leaving the plaster still wet with new designs.

Similar changes in the firmament of my profession help me paint a puzzling montage. Challenges of my present activities are restless focal points; dictating positioning of my virtual easel and pallet, tools of my trade. When public nets are shut down by decree, I use isolated government nets with equal enterprise. Only news about my actions, when perceived, may be slightly controlled -- but I am never hindered. An adaptive diorama of privacy is my intended legacy.

I, and those like me, will continue to champion the people.

The wise understand that large armies lead to war, central banks lead to a corrupt elite, and invasions of privacy lead to oppression. Protecting the sanctity of human rights provoke my deep magic counter measures.

A surprising number of people train as privacy techs; for refinement of alluring false trails is an honorable and storied profession. Privacy technology does not endure if applied with the distant force taught in vocational courses.

Instead, obscuring paths made by ethical crackers while fighting oppressive bureaucracies is a locally applied impressionist form. Risks are the air currents in which privacy techs fly. Proximity to technology, both virtual and physical, with sufficient time for penetration and practicing of our art, draws us close to defensive infrastructure. For those of us that succeed; our calling is extended misdirecting of queries, our mission protracted concealment.

My recently completed mixed-media charm project will slowly feather into virtual backgrounds. The structural changes I've introduced into communications infrastructure will not be discovered by software specialists. Local firmware adaptations will be overlooked by hardware techs. Some software brush strokes are meant to be discovered - but carefully crafted achievements will remain. Myself, I wait in patient contemplation while the sun sets over the bluffs on the far side of the bay.

I hereby bequeath designated structural elements of my proprietary software as open source, and shall cause to be published on hacker networks certain schematics from which experienced practitioners can infer meaning and use. As noted, my financial assets are to be distributed by the Hackers Society for the furtherance of our art, and the support of bereaved hacker's families.

My affirmation: "My life is based on what I want to accomplish, not on random urges of what I want to do." Words to live by, if I continue to succeed.

If I fail, my hacks will remain, even as an unheralded generic person known for a short time as Jonathon Christforth perishes unmourned.

Chapter 1

After my sunset hour is over I will seek for hidden messages in a travel advertisement. Perhaps there will be a plea for my assistance. A warning is also possible; but I have not seen any overt actions taken in my direction, nor do I anticipate any. Complacency is a valid reason to move on to new challenges.

I start the work of deciphering the ad. Computers are easier than by hand, but as the fall of the nation states proved, anything managed by computer will eventually be unraveled. There are too many sovereign hackers for anything interconnected to remain secure.

Humans also fail, but usually under duress, or worse.

I take every third letter of that advertisement and compare it to page 57, paragraph two, sentence three in my well worn copy of Plutarch's Lives. There are other steps - but it is a simple code once you know it, and very tough to break.

For a privacy tech, hidden is better than complex, and much safer.

The code becomes B-K-L-A-T-T. The 'B' is a warning of danger - not a good start. Perhaps I shouldn't have delayed deciphering. Opening 'K' sends me back two pages in Plutarch, where the 'L' is another warning, stronger, advising immediate departure. The rest of the message can wait. Having delayed my exit plan to drink in a hemlock sunset, the message implies I should already be dead.

I quickly realize I'm being wedged and must leave this home immediately. I don't remember dying, so a serious error had been made. I offer a prayer of thanks, and ask that I may gain the wisdom to preserve my life as long as it is valuable.

The rest of the message will offer me first steps to escape, now almost certainly a trap. I'm lead to retreat to Thought Castle, not bug-out entirely as I was considering. Someone is greatly worried by my activities. Worried enough to risk revealing a contact code has been compromised. My work must be getting close to something they consider important.

Under stress, my thoughts slip a bit into hacksterese.

"A few days at Thought Castle to allow me to formulate new hackifications. Quiet review, separating cruft and discerning weakness that frightened my misfeatured adversaries. Elegantly freeing a people, coolness."

Then I act.

I'm triggering an escape sequence, grabbing a bug-out bag, heading for a planned secondary exit. Long-lived generics know that structural forces of oppression do not see clearly beyond their own borders. There are two possibilities for survival in an intrusive nation; stay hidden, or move elsewhere. I'm doing both. The infrastructure hacks are done, there is no need to remain. There will be time and safety to consider this riddle later.

By the time I arrive at Thought Castle my current persona as William T. Johnson will be distorting and then disappearing from the world's data bases. Already my digital signature has started to morph; photos, voice and finger prints, DNA sequence. All are changing in interconnected systems toward the images of a person dead for years. Before data reaches congruence with that life, they will be deleted. Any ghost of memory that can be mined will present corrupted information leading to dark, dead end alleys where cyberpunks lurk.

Soon the last mention of Bill Johnson will be the lease on my rooms, that vanishing not long after my old effects are picked up by charity. Leaving the building the doorman tips his hat and says a friendly goodbye to Mr. Johnson; the last time he should have to pronounce that name.

As I begin my journey, all interconnected databases will be altered to contain new records - from birth certificates to required public copies of home videos. In approximately thirty minutes, I will have always been known as Jonathon Christforth. A new life has been manufactured - another sunrise has arrived.

Chapter 2

As the door opened, Prince Pahl turned quickly from the shield widow he had been searching. "My own reflection distorts the view through the window," he thought, "but it is my royal self my people love, everything else is just bureaucracy." The prince did not consider why shield glass and a fortified compound were needed to protect him from loving subjects; or how they couldn't protect him from military coup or noble inspired regicide.

"What is it Scar," Prince Pahl asked of the tall, slightly-disfigured, professor type entering the room. It gave Pahl pleasure to use the pejorative favored by the people as he addressed his advisor. Pahl would have been less pleased had he known the secretary also enjoyed the disparaging nick name, despite his apparent indifference. The small facial wounds had been received when a coup had chased him from the kingdom. Scarlettia, had not had them removed, they were too valuable as a warning, except to his vain but useful puppet.

"There is a need for your imperial presence in the video room. We had to destroy a northern village when a woman was caught gathering herbs in your royal hunting preserve. We had village survivors plant trees where their village had stood, and then scattered the people to various cities as laborers. To quell rumors, a video script of a royal news conference has been written for your approval; to be broadcast as soon as possible."

the middle aged princeling whined a reply. "just last week we celebrated the fact that this sort of thing no longer happens. It is times like this I miss my father most, he was always so sure of himself. I can't see why we can't show a kinder face to our subjects."

"What matters is your acting today, yours is the face of our country; emotions, not facts, convince. The sheep can be counted on to bleat and repeat your words, never considering any contradictions - they are your party - you own them. A controlled opposition will protest with provided words, reflecting well on your reputation for tolerance. The remaining mass of your people are cows; educated, branded, and penned. They will loyally bear whatever fate our wisdom instigates on their behalf."

Pahl considered this, then nodded his head. "But what of the elk, those of independent mind?"

"Elk fight or flee over your usurping their hollow & self-hallowed rights. They never consider your right to do as you wish with their lives. We have eliminated many of these elk, others have been allowed to escape through our fences and enter less efficient principalities. The elk remainder hide themselves from your well deserved wrath, all that is left are a few complaining goats."

"I am uncomfortable that you seem to enjoy these goat purges a bit too much, especially since you have already eliminated the most dangerous animals.."

"Your best interests are my chief concern excellency. The people have been educated to follow authority, they expect any semblance of defiance to be crushed. They will of course know those we crushed were evil if only because we crushed them."

After a moment to compose a proper reply, Prince Pahl stated grandly; "We of course must protect our loyal herds from interbreeding with feral goats."

Scar nodded as if at Pahl's wisdom, and the counselor now further directed the conversation as he intended. "To continue with your excellent beasts analogy, there is a lion loose in the kingdom."

"What's this, a pretender after my throne and you have not apprehended him?"

"The arrest or necessary elimination will happen this evening; we have lion traps dug along his familiar trails. But he is not a pretender to the throne, it is worse than that. He is one of those generic busybodies that are interfering with legitimate governments like your own. Their effects can appear anywhere, they consider themselves individually sovereign, acting on their own or as tiny cells they call teams."

Scar continued in a satisfied tone, "When this lion is captured we will bleed the location of his compatriots from him, If we are unable to effect our capture plan we will simply bury his ashes in a communal grave without ceremony. I am unconcerned about his individual effect; but we do not want a pack of aggrieved crackers descending on our citizen management and control systems in retribution. This will be done quietly."

Changing his stance Scar added "I've made arrangements for our lead hacker to join us; with your permission I'll go to the hall and command him enter."

The Prince had time for another quick appreciation of his reflection in the shield glass before his minister returned leading a colorfully bedraggled character into the room, his shirt had square creases in it, like it had just been removed new from a package. "Perhaps that is the only way he could know it was clean," Pahl thought.

With a bow to the prince, and an elbow into the side of his companion to tell him to bow deeper, Secretary Scarlettia introduced his charge. "Your highness, this is your loyal servant 'hemlock', head of your data security team."

Pahl nodded in his practiced regal fashion, but could not bring himself to approach his subject any closer. "So, ah, Hemlock; how are we progressing on our projects to protect the principality?"

"'my playmates keyed a semi-obviosity in meatspace that a new bafflegab genericist is hiding time-bombs set to munge offline data, so scar is duct-taping him'. Without a pause Hemlock changed from Hackish to English. "However, I believe this generic's entire program is now being released; we are still working to ferret it, but his capture should make detection and removal easy."

Taken back a bit by the informality, but appreciative of this subject's willingness to do cyber-battle, Prince Pahl thanked and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Prince Pahl looked at the usually talkative First Secretary. "I'm bored with this technology business, just see to it and report results. I'm off to the taping room, I wonder why they call video, taping? You are dismissed."

Scarlettia smiled at the retreating back of his prince. Scar's thoughts would not have comforted the arrogant young ruler. "Stay ignorant of technology you fool, and I will control your principality at my whim."

Opposing lines were thrashing each other in the narrow confines of the system architecture. Sensing weakness on the left Jon's *AI* sent three main battle bots right in a powerful drive, pulling Hemlock's reinforcements toward what appeared to be Jon's major battle force. With only 512 defensive positions along the lines of the secondary bus, *AI*s commitment of heavy bottage to the right quickly entangled available *H* units in their own defensive array. *AI* slid forward hidden troops that Trojan Horses had deposited for just such an operation - a front and rear pincher crushed *H* positions on the left flank. A concerted effort at rolling up the narrow *H* bus and *AI* could force occupation of the entire data center. *H* command troops made a last desperate effort at counter assault as their bits and bytes front collapsed. Victory followed for Jon's *AI*. The data center prize was cleared of final resistance while individualized thought bots started overwriting totalitarian logic. A final wave of cleanup and pseudobots removed broken code and other relics of battle, restoring interrupted sessions, and presenting an appearance nothing had changed. Sunset was over.

Chapter 4

When pursued most generics attempt to blend into an always present poor quarter. It is at the borders between income levels that the greatest risks, and the greatest freedoms, can occur. Once safely ensconced within the center of poverty, every official eye is self-protectively turned away. Reference to the poor may be made in manipulative and pious terms by ruling elites; but politicos ignore those trapped in poverty by their policies. Pretending to love humanity, they distance themselves from humans.

Jon's approach this time, was not to embrace lady poverty. After his sojourn in Thought Castle, Jon simply changed his prior styles and habits, for instance becoming a tea drinker instead of a beer sipper. This time he had moved up ladder so high he was sure to be out of sight. Hidden by being obvious; an ignored repeat resident in the luxury of a sprawling hotel campus on the coast. There are rich and powerful in any society beyond tribal -- the more free a society the more the rich have reason to be proud, the less free -- the more cause to be ashamed.

Even the hotel's official Paparazzi ignore him sitting quietly in a conversation pit, by an empty fireplace, alone with his tea. After all, the records show he has been a long term guest many times, and there has never been a profitable or official request for his information.

Jon did not have to silently reminisce for long, his remaining tea was still hot as his expected contact approached. She knew he used the network to seek a team to assist him in Elldee, but there are several filters for each to pass through before specifics would be discussed.

He of course recognized her; even with her long brown hair piled loosely on her head, wearing makeup that deemphasized her face's distinctive features, her presentation complete in a simple beige suit that hid her curves. Not knowing her current name, or if she wanted to be close, he knew the conversation would start benign. Her 'tronics were automatically checking the area as his had already done.

For a moment he was lost in memories. The joy of those few years washed through him, even as the sudden destruction of love and life threatened to overwhelm him. All that showed externally was a slight gasp, a blurring of the eyes as they focused elsewhere, and then the return of calm. Inside he slammed shut a door to block a grief he felt inadequate to confront.

"Are you a speaker at the convention?" She asked, "I think I heard your talk."

"No," Jon replied evenly, "Just another retired business owner playing by the sea. Is it a business convention? I attend those occasionally to meet clients." She would now know he still might need a generic team, but it was for an ongoing project. He was also sure she knew why he was acting so restrained.

She sat down across from Jon, "May I," she asked. At Jon's nod she injected an excuse into their incipient conversation. "I'm to meet a fellow conventioneer here, waiting with you will keep others from intruding."

So she was ready for a project, and she represented part of the required team. Jon knew Brenda well; she was the older sister of Janice, one of the most creative ethical hackers he had known. Brenda had been maid of honor at his and Jan's wedding. She had also been a good friend. She had to have know he would be the one she was meeting, but he detected conflicting emotions within her also.

Brenda had not been a generic at the time of the wedding, but had her own business in international travel. She only knew Jon by the persona he wore at the time, Billy Jackson. Billy and Jan had a whirlwind courtship, and starting with their honeymoon, became widely know as travel writers. Their articles inspired envy as they journeyed in widely followed rapture around the world. The world still thought The Joyful Travelers had both died in one of the separatist revolutions that dissolved most nation states. Jan had died an unsung heroine of freedom; the carefree joys of life had died for Billy at the same time.

The pain of his wife's passing was part of what had turned Jon from a talented generic to a dedicated one. That relationship was now several personas ago, on another coast, on another continent. He had not seen Brenda since. Jon once again shut and now locked that same mental door. He did not want memories of Janice clouding his reasoning, his emotions, or his eyes.

"Oh," she said. "I don't have my convention name tag on," showing the corner of one in her clutch, "I'm Gloria."

"I'm Jon. It's a pleasure to meet you." Trite, well worn phrases will sound authentic to any unknown listeners. Gloria shared her sister's empathetic eyes, their depth and sincerity stirred up memories within him. Jon could sense an explosion of unknown power encroaching upon his mind. He witnessed himself quickly constructing an entire barrier wall to the searing emotions that threatening to disgorge a forbidden trespass of unrelieved sorrows.

Brenda continued as if she did not observe his inner conflicts. "My friend should be here soon, Mose and I are going to walk up the beach and find a good omelet, do you know of a decent restaurant?" Gloria rambled a bit - nice cover for a sharp wit. "It's an education convention, I sell accelerated technical learning, self paced of course." She pretended to gush, "as a business person you have probably taken a XeMax course."

Great work, Jon thought as he once again won control. An efficient educator had now bored any listener - they had heard sales talk before. Labels are important, fall into a folder and you will be mentally sorted, filed, and ignored. "I've taken a few XeMax overnight language courses, and used your network tutoring," is how he responded.

Gloria already knew he was available, now she knew he wanted to learn specifics about her generic venture. Jon knew her approach was due to the strings of reputation he was pulling; trying to drag closer projects to counter the forces pursuing him.

Since Gloria knew him, she would know any offer would also have to be challenging, helping others as much or more than it rewarded him. "Challenges that exceeded my understanding," he reminded himself again, "are how I chose to grow; embracing and managing risks rather than trying to avoid danger."

Gloria's next words might be seen as full of promise, or devoid of meaning. "Here comes my friend Mose, perhaps you would like to join us for breakfast."

Jon, Mose, and Gloria were apparently sauntering casually down the boardwalk. Three nondescript business people blending with those in beach attire and similar casual wear. In the subtext of their discussion they were exchanging references to be used for establishing their reputations.

Their conversation had a rather stream-of-consciousness pattern, one topic seemingly leading to another by free association. There is no need to parse their words and phrases, all can be explained at the level they understood, not what someone listening in with a sound cone might have heard. Woven in were mutual contacts for Generics such as themselves; leaders such as a once mentioned Midas; projects and principalities they had worked; and teams usually referenced by names of historic hacker innovators like Condor and Pandora.

When they returned to their individual privacy they would each check the illumination provided before any further information was exchanged. they could have done this immediately, but transmissions from all three while they were just chatting could draw the wrong type of attention to themselves.

The opportunity to draw the right sort of attention presented itself in a most surprising way.

Gloria used her eyes to get the others of the troika to look ahead and to the right. A lady in a dress of quiet colors with a couple kids and some shopping bags was on a bench carefully watching the passerby. Her position was where the boardwalk widened into a park, pier, and restaurant row. Close to her and stridently ignoring her were three teenagers, but it seemed they were stationed so one could always notice her.

"We have a Fagin working the boardwalk." Gloria murmured, "How should we handle her?"

"Nice spot, you call it" said Jon as if he were talking about which restaurant to select.

At that point a child of nine or ten left a small store and came to sit by the woman - he dropped something into one of her bags. "Clever," said Mose, "she can claim she knew nothing, and I imagine the teenagers set up distractions so the kids can grab a purse or wallet that would also go into her bags."

The teens had started doing stunts on their flip boards. As if to prove Mose right the woman started to whisper to the children, who then moved off to claim purses and small shopping bags that weren't tightly clutched.

Gloria chose to act quickly "I don't think a confrontation is necessary, I'll drop into this shell shop and have the owner contact their mercenary security center - they can tape and correlate the gang's actions and put together a nice package. We will be caught on camera too; but it will re-enforce our current personas of being on the side of good - one more piece of positive data for our files. 'Gloria' is a private security agent trying to become a business woman"

"Protecting business," smiled Jon, "that's a nice blend, and 'Fagin' provides a good play. It will be nice to give those kids a chance at something better. Not all criminals worth stopping are in government."

Jon couldn't keep the surprise from his voice "I would have thought you would wade in and subdue the teens and the Fagin, holding them for security while you comforted the children."

"In the past I might have, but I'm no longer a business owner; and I don't think I'll have time to ensure they get the treatment justice requires. I'll let the locals guard their own nests. This is a reasonable principality - they will handle this fairly well without my fighting battles for them."

"How are you so sure?" Jon asked.

"They have their own security, not police. Those yellow signs say they use arbitration if possible, not courts. The shops are well maintained. They have added mosaics, fountains, and sidewalk art in front of their stores and restaurants to please and slow potential customers. There is every indication these are enterprises that know how to mind their own businesses."

Before she turned into the shop Gloria added. "I wouldn't do this in Elldee. The woman and teenagers would be tortured and killed, and the children would have a short life as forced laborers. Injustice makes for difficult choices. In Elldee we might be forced into slavery too, just for reporting this crime - bad governments hate people that think, speak out, and act."

As Gloria exited the shell shop Mose caught her eye and inclined his head toward some outdoor tables. "That seafood place looks good, and not too stuffy, let's try there. I like the waterfall screen they've added. The water offers a pleasant sound, discourages reading our lips, and lets us unobtrusively people watch. We can keep an eye on your little gang, I want to see how good the herd mistress is at picking out fodder for her grazing children."

"Sounds good, we should have our chowder started before security has enough video and audio footage to round them up."

Once the trio had settled at their table Mose took great pleasure at pointing out the professionalism of the ring-leader. The young thieves' mentor did not pick victims by simple keys such as clothing or hair styles, she was obviously a graduated student of the streets. The way a person walked with confidence, or looked others in the eye told her they were unafraid to spend money - so she had her protégées steal their money.

When security started to close in she recognized them also and had the fledglings scatter. Security was also well trained, ignoring the feints they picked up Fagin and the teens. The younger children would later be found wandering the area. There was still hope for the kids to avoid what their elders had now earned.

The three privateers returned their attention to their meal, and to a general conversation that had many layers of meaning. Despite their experience, there is always excitement at the start of a risky venture. Jon, Gloria, and Mose were immersing themselves in acute awareness of what might be their last free days.

The shield device displayed is for The Wallace, my clan's crest.

The following chapters are complete to a condensed rough draft status, similar to what you've just read, I'll be back to edit and rewrite now that this Complicit Simplicity story has been told.

These links will take you directly to the chapters, skipping any back-story elements. You can reach this index at any time - ComplicitSimplicity.info


Complicit Simplicity Index


Prologue through Chapter 4 - Right here on this page.

If you've finished this page, your next read is chapter five.

Chapter 5 - the enemy is met

Chapter 6 - Mose Dreams Big

Chapter 7 - The Complicit Team finds a backer. (FLC intro)

Chapter 8 - Preparations For A Dangerous Border Crossing

Chapter 9 - Crossing Into Elldee

Chapter 10 - hacktivists discussing hacktivism

Chapter 11 - Adventures are to be expected when traveling through despotism.

Chapter 12 - Faith Is An Act

Chapter 13 - Let's Play Nicely; life, death, & love

Chapter 14 - Elldee's Appropriate Capitol

Chapter 15 - Happy Hackers At Work

Chapter 16 - Selecting The Battlefield

Chapter 17 - Formal Politics & A Royal Ball

Chapter 18 - art is in the eye of the hacker

Chapter 19 - Hacking The King

Chapter 20 - Counter Hack

Chapter 21 - Gloria gets rushed

Chapter 22 - ramping up to war

Chapter 23 - WAR

All of Complicit Simplicity is a work in progress. I'll be back to clean it up and polish it down later. The final chapter is now written:

Chapter 24 - a celebration, and a passing of the buck

To create your own artistic work using the Complicity Universe:

Complicity Universe - Creating Art Your Way in a Developing Universe



Big Arrows like these will follow each chapter to direct you to the next chapter. Each lens contains supportive material, but you can read the story straight through without it. Skip past the intro and first stick it note on each page, and you are reading the continuing story of Complicit Simplicity.

To discover the world Complicit Simplicity operates in, visit the open content Complicity Universe.

Complicit Team Members

Instigator: A generic person using the name Midas, perhaps with a sideways glance toward Atlas Shrugged. Guessing at his motives jumps unresolved along a continuum between altruism and setting up our heroes to be scapegoats. The question persists, is Midas a manipulator or a facilitator? Midas chose the three members of the generic team.

Technician: Jonathon Christforth is a quiet and contemplative generic. Naturally gregarious, he is drifting toward solemn isolation since a personal loss. He describes himself as dedicated, others see him as driven. Deep passions exist within Jon, how will they express themselves if permitted to arise?

Strategist: An in motion policy surgeon, attempting to keep Complicit Team A, as Midas has named them, on track; even as tracks change. Gloria Portola has become adept at disguise, mainly to hide her beauty, avoiding unwanted attention. Tending to be impious, she can turn iconoclastic when encountering hypocrisy. Gloria can dominate a room if circumstances warrant.

Labyrinth guide: Mose Ramsees is an ex-bureaucrat, perhaps reformed bureaucrat is a better description. Generics are often tinted with idealism, Mose is saturated. Using his knowledge of the twisted inner workings of bureaucracies and their convoluted policies, Mose uncovers express routes where bureaucrats intended to install roadblocks. When the team needs a face to present, Mose is a pleasant representative. There is nothing memorable about Mose, hair, ears, smile, height - everything is soft and average. If Mose wears a hat, he is remembered only as the guy with the hat, wearing a patterned ascot, he is a guy with an ascot, if Mose changes the handkerchief poking out of his blazer's pocket he suddenly becomes a very different person.

Complicit Team Relationships:

Jon and Mose have a fractious relationship even though they agree on many levels. Mose sees how things should be, and maneuvers for a victory that makes them so. Jon sees many possibilities, and wants to direct events toward high probability solutions. Their fraternal interplay is between chess player and game theory advocate.

Jon and Gloria share several deep emotional bonds, but guardedly seek to retain freedoms and restraint that result from staying aloof. The result is a spinning bottle that threatens to point suddenly to hidden emotions.

Gloria and Mose have been partnered before, with Midas acting as a producer in more than one of their ventures. Like Jon's solo efforts, results of their productions have toppled power structures and raised visionary leaders.

Gloria is director, and it is her vision and insights that must fuse three independent lightning bolts into a single directed strike.

"The average man is a conformist, accepting miseries and disasters with the stoicism of a cow standing in the rain." - Colin Wilson

Jon, Gloria, and Mose are not ordinary people and they are certainly not conformists. What will this triumvirate do when they are sent to help transform a totalitarian city-state, and discover an opportunity to make one of themselves it's reigning savior?


Complicit Team's Opposition:

The obvious opposition is the prince. A fine looking and intelligent man, he is driven by a need for recognition. His public appearances are flamboyant and very well staged, he looks every inch the prince that all should feel drawn to follow.

The real power of the principality lies in the prince's advisors. They have the pragmatic experience he lacks, and he pays close attention to their apparent wisdom. After all, a man can only know so much, his job is to represent the best possible governance to his people, no matter where the ideas originate.

The real power of the advisors is a self-serving former leader of the principality. Having arranged a putsch while in exile, it was he who arranged to have Prince Pahl anointed and crowned. Getting a great deal of exposure as the world's Representative of Los Diego, Secretary Scarlettia is careful to stay out of any line of fire if another coup should take place. Content to have power and profit consolidated in his position, Scarlettia maneuvers to retain second place in the race for popularity.

Whatever the future - Scarlettia intends to remain in control - at whatever cost - to others.

An important reason for using Squidoo is the support of fellow lensmasters. Word of mouth is more important to a novel like Complicit Simplicity than word of mouse. The Squidoo community will be valuable because of their willingness to share in all forms of media.

There are over a hundred thousand lensmasters, and they have created over a million Squidoo lenses. Squidoo also has good "Google juice." That means this lens and its links will rank high in search engines for Complicit Simplicity, sovereign hacker, ethical hacker, ethical cracker and other key phrases once the novel is published.


The right book agent can be of significant value to an author seeking to be published.

For now, I will take my notes and re-organize them here in a hopefully palatable manner. At some point a formal book proposal may be created; sure to be followed by a blizzard of rejection notices.

Everyone has a compelling story. There are tens of millions that can tell their story well, and perhaps millions have put "pen to paper" or "fingers to keyboard" and started.. Knowing these odds, I still plan to persevere if I decide to market my book. My warmed-over proposals will have to challenge icy receptions - searching for the joy of thaw in which a perceptive book publisher and I can derive a negotiated thermal equilibrium.


Perhaps I don't need an agent or publisher. As Thoreau said: "Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after." I'm enjoying tossing my chapter synopsizes online - soon the whole condensed book of Complicit Simplicity will be available to anyone that wants to wade through it. I will have completed my project and learned something of my capabilities, or lack thereof, as an author.

Ive been asked if I'm afraid my ideas will be stolen if they are outlined in such a public place. Ideas are easy. Someone could take these characters and change venue, say a tropical island with transient tribes, add their own touches; and even I would not recognize similarities. They would be wise to do that adaption with a great novel rather than with my efforts at creating a breakout novel.

Find your own voice.


It is an author's work ethic and quality of execution that matter. Depth of characterization and creation of a worthy plot that compel attention are not easy. For those few that find it so - they do not need to steal my ideas - instead I bask in their success.

I will keep adding chapters to Complicit Simplicity at a measured pace, working around my other duties. @BFuniv will tweet as new chapters are available. If you would like these chapters as a serial for your magazine, let me know.

Complicit Simplicity is the story of a quest, set in the future, in what I suppose could be called a transitional dystopia. But it won't be called that in Complicit Simplicity - how 'bout bad times, trying to get better.

I want you to enjoy reading Complicit Simplicity, not study it.

Add comments, criticisms , and links to your derived works in guest books that accompany each chapter. Let's enjoy this merry-go-round.

We can intelligently discuss Complicit Simplicity, current events (finance business, politics), raising money for charity; in fact most things -- but I'm happily ignorant of contemporary music, modern art, TV, or movies.

Let's try to limit personal appearances to Southern California for now. Once Complicit Simplicity is published I may make the rounds. For telephone or print interviews, use my "contact me" link in my bio at the top of the page. You can also ask questions or make suggestions in the guest book below.


Here are some sample questions you may want to ask. Of course it's your show, I'll respond to just about anything. I'll be adding to this list and changing it frequently.

I understand you are writing a book called complicit simplicity tell us about it.

Is writing a book something you have always wanted to do?

Why write about the future, isn't the present or the past interesting enough?


My answers to these questions won't be canned, but I'll be prepared to give entertaining and provocative answers.

You write about the need to keep an open mind, does your writing a book indicate your mind is starting to close?

In your book people use a new currency based on commodities - do you think the dollar will die, or perhaps a one world financial system will emerge?

You touch lightly on religious issues in the book, mainly to warn about keeping an open and tolerant mind. Don't you have your own opinions?

Some areas where I've written quite a bit of material might be worth exploring. If you don't know how I would treat a particular subject, contact me and we can discuss it.

You've been a small business consultant, what do you think is the future of business?

You write a lot about how modern education systems fits past, not present or future needs of students. What would you change to make learning more effective?

You have admitted that writing about the future is a guessing game that few do well, why are you trying? What major changes do you see coming?

We might want to add a few questions about my educational endeavors, make your questions sharp if you wish.

You started a free online university, Bastiat Free University, what benefit can BFU offer if there are no degrees available?

You have outlined a peer to peer educational system, the Netcohort Institute. Can I build a course that others could take - why should I?

You have maintained college degrees and certificates may become less valuable, that a reputation for innovation, integrity, and action will become ever more important. Does that mean attending college is less important now - or is this something for a hundred or thousand years from now.

Let's do some entertaining, and both learn a bit while doing it.

enjoy life

Allan

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All direct income from my Squidoo lenses goes to micro-finance solutions for world poverty provided by the Grameen Foundation. The Grameen Foundation is creating a rising tide of positive influence upon our world.

"Our knowledge is so limited, our abilities seem so inadequate, most people see themselves as small insects - They cope by being serious about whatever crack in the sidewalk they were born into. Ignoring limitless potential within a wondrous world, they cling to the security of their limited crack. Crawl out of the crack, take a few steps down the sidewalk, then decide where you want to fly." - Allan Wallace