A Shift in Priorities - Sequel

If 90% of the Netherlands has died from the plague, and all the existing houses are not destroyed and empty, why do people live in small wooden shacks ?
Amd why does Germany not annex the country outright ? If the climate gets colder the eastern areas of Germany will lose productivity while the Netherlands will stay milder close to the North Sea.
And control of the Rhine estuary and the Rotterdam port and railways and roads to the East woud help Germany enormously, shorter shipping routes.
They have tried this approach. Keeping the existing buildings in use - or rather re-using them - consumes too much effort. The tiny houses coming from Sweden do not require maintenance - and shall easily be replaced when showing deficiencies.
The Germans have lost 10 million people in the pest. Not even the DVP hardliners claim that more Lebensraum is required.
The Rhine estuary is again the swamp it used to be before the Dutch started amelioration. Rotterdam has been abandoned. The Germans use the channels to shuttle their goods from Rhine and Ruhr to Bremen and Hamburg.
 
Put no faith in salvation through the political order.
(Saint Augustine)

Sender Freies Berlin (Radio Free Berlin) was flooding the capital with rioter propaganda. After the hooligans had conquered the Space Monument, it had taken them less than one hour to start their transmissions – although the regular staff had been under strictest orders to sabotage the wireless installations. Their programme – if one really could call it a programme – was downright bedlamic and very snap, but highly topical. And the music was the cat’s pyjamas.

Hence, all of Berlin was listening to SFB; the dreary government stations, outperformed by every trick in the book, were widely disregarded. – A certain Alfred Dutschke, a young journalist who had joined the rioters early on, was the driving spirit behind the scenes. A former pacifist and adherent of the DFU, then the AFV, he had become radicalised by the utter lack of social progress. He was not a follower of Strauß, however, and by no means a friend of the ideology found in the DVP.

Just that made the SFB emissions so credible for the good citizens of Berlin. They were anti-establishment and very critical in every respect, but obviously not favouring that droll Bavarian and his petty bourgeois. The old-established Berliners liked anti-establishment statements, as every one of them considered himself – surreptitiously – a victim of that establishment. Newcomers might see this differently; they usually were the establishment. But the native inhabitants were prone to toying with anarchist and nihilist ideas.

The rioters had not taken control of all of Berlin. The Prussian police was still holding the Wilhelmstraße, the Reichstag and the western half of the city. The rioters were well established in the historic district with the City Palace, the Red City Hall, the Space Monument – and the eastern half of the city. The Prussian government had relocated to Potsdam. The Kaiser was still at Rheinsberg. The Guards Corps HQ had also fled to Potsdam – and was desperately trying to re-establish at least some voluntary formations.
 
So he decided to call himself with his first name instead his third, Rudi
Put no faith in salvation through the political order.
(Saint Augustine)

Sender Freies Berlin (Radio Free Berlin) was flooding the capital with rioter propaganda. After the hooligans had conquered the Space Monument, it had taken them less than one hour to start their transmissions – although the regular staff had been under strictest orders to sabotage the wireless installations. Their programme – if one really could call it a programme – was downright bedlamic and very snap, but highly topical. And the music was the cat’s pyjamas.

Hence, all of Berlin was listening to SFB; the dreary government stations, outperformed by every trick in the book, were widely disregarded. – A certain Alfred Dutschke, a young journalist who had joined the rioters early on, was the driving spirit behind the scenes. A former pacifist and adherent of the DFU, then the AFV, he had become radicalised by the utter lack of social progress. He was not a follower of Strauß, however, and by no means a friend of the ideology found in the DVP.

Just that made the SFB emissions so credible for the good citizens of Berlin. They were anti-establishment and very critical in every respect, but obviously not favouring that droll Bavarian and his petty bourgeois. The old-established Berliners liked anti-establishment statements, as every one of them considered himself – surreptitiously – a victim of that establishment. Newcomers might see this differently; they usually were the establishment. But the native inhabitants were prone to toying with anarchist and nihilist ideas.

The rioters had not taken control of all of Berlin. The Prussian police was still holding the Wilhelmstraße, the Reichstag and the western half of the city. The rioters were well established in the historic district with the City Palace, the Red City Hall, the Space Monument – and the eastern half of the city. The Prussian government had relocated to Potsdam. The Kaiser was still at Rheinsberg. The Guards Corps HQ had also fled to Potsdam – and was desperately trying to re-establish at least some voluntary formations.
 
There is less harm to be suffered in being mad among madmen than in being sane all by oneself.
(Denis Diderot)

Ala Ka Kuma was not a democracy. That made organising a revolutionary movement even more dangerous. The ruling chieftains and their military allies entertained a powerful secret police, the Khadamat Al’amn. Traditionally, however, Muslim fraternities, like the Muslim Brotherhood or the various Sufi movements, were enjoying certain liberties. Wukr el-Shabazz had therefore providently founded a new religious brotherhood.

The Al’iikhwa Miskin, the Brotherhood of the Poor, was his Ala Ka Kuman version of a clandestine socialist revolutionary party. He had even founded a mosque. A modest building in the southern outskirts of Bamako, a former storehouse, was serving as his ‘spiritual’ centre. Money was – as always – his main concern. The name of his organisation was symbol; poverty was his blazon.

Nevertheless, he had already gathered a followership of young men, about forty poor wretches, who were zealously listening to his sermons that told them of a better world here on earth. Women were, of course, not admitted. – But young men were all right. To seize power, one had to infiltrate the military. That was Wukr’s plan. Well, the idea of a plan… What else could he do?

The country had to be saved from certain doom. And he had got what it took to do it. There was nobody else in this frigging place who could see what was wrong. Yeah, it certainly would take years until he could hope to stage a putsch, but Bamako wasn’t a metropolis. The garrison wasn’t that large. There was no hope to infiltrate the Khadamat Al’amn. But once he had the soldiers, the policemen wouldn’t be a great problem…
 
Unreasonable haste is the direct road to error.
(Molière)

Franz Josef had made it. The Reichstag had elected him. He was now driving to Rheinsberg where the Kaiser was going to appoint him Imperial Chancellor. And Hanne Zülch was preparing the move of the staff to the Wilhelmstraße 77. She had already planned the move in advance. It wouldn’t be easy. One had more space right now than one was due to have in the imperial chancellery. Thank goodness for the zusies, with paper files it wouldn’t be possible at all.

Well, the papists had pulled him neatly over the barrel. Rudolf Amelunxen was the designated vice-chancellor and minister of the interior. Hans Kroll would be the foreign minister. Rudolf Hanauer was going to become minister of finance. So much for new men and a new policy… And Hans-Adolf Prützmann of the AFV was the incoming minister of war. The DVP had got almost nothing. Franz Josef would be chancellor, of course. Alfred Rosenberg, one of leading xenophobes, would get the ministry of justice. And Adolf von Thadden, one of Franz Joseph’s young men, was earmarked as minister of transport.

How was Franz Josef going to steer his new course with those old papist warhorses? All important positions would be held by them. And Hans-Adolf, whom Hanne knew very well, would neither comply with Franz Josef’s wishes but try to steer a course of his own, headstrong bastard that he was. Rosenberg was a hot-air artist and von Thadden a gimp. – A thrilling time seemed to lie ahead. How was Franz Josef going to tame his coalition partners? And how was he going to subdue the rioters and their councils?

Not even Berlin was entirely in his hands. And the rioters were quickly getting organised. Had Franz Josef overstretched himself? Would his chancellorship end in a failure? – Hanne checked her wrist watch. It was 14:45 hours on Friday, October 18th, 1963. Right now, the Kaiser should be appointing Franz Josef Imperial Chancellor.
“Good luck to all of us” she sighed.
 
Unreasonable haste is the direct road to error.
(Molière)

Franz Josef had made it. The Reichstag had elected him. He was now driving to Rheinsberg where the Kaiser was going to appoint him Imperial Chancellor. And Hanne Zülch was preparing the move of the staff to the Wilhelmstraße 77. She had already planned the move in advance. It wouldn’t be easy. One had more space right now than one was due to have in the imperial chancellery. Thank goodness for the zusies, with paper files it wouldn’t be possible at all.

Well, the papists had pulled him neatly over the barrel. Rudolf Amelunxen was the designated vice-chancellor and minister of the interior. Hans Kroll would be the foreign minister. Rudolf Hanauer was going to become minister of finance. So much for new men and a new policy… And Hans-Adolf Prützmann of the AFV was the incoming minister of war. The DVP had got almost nothing. Franz Josef would be chancellor, of course. Alfred Rosenberg, one of leading xenophobes, would get the ministry of justice. And Adolf von Thadden, one of Franz Joseph’s young men, was earmarked as minister of transport.

How was Franz Josef going to steer his new course with those old papist warhorses? All important positions would be held by them. And Hans-Adolf, whom Hanne knew very well, would neither comply with Franz Josef’s wishes but try to steer a course of his own, headstrong bastard that he was. Rosenberg was a hot-air artist and von Thadden a gimp. – A thrilling time seemed to lie ahead. How was Franz Josef going to tame his coalition partners? And how was he going to subdue the rioters and their councils?

Not even Berlin was entirely in his hands. And the rioters were quickly getting organised. Had Franz Josef overstretched himself? Would his chancellorship end in a failure? – Hanne checked her wrist watch. It was 14:45 hours on Friday, October 18th, 1963. Right now, the Kaiser should be appointing Franz Josef Imperial Chancellor.
“Good luck to all of us” she sighed.
Uh-oh.
 
The world would be happier if men had the same capacity to be silent that they have to speak.
(Baruch Spinoza)

Evelyn was pretty much drunk – and the party had hardly even begun. Yeah, she had vigorously celebrated Franz Josef’s ‘victory’ ever since the media had reported his appointment by the Kaiser. And she kept boozing with dash. Albert Leise thought the evening had the potential to turn into something one better did not recall in hindsight. The party was one of the usual gatherings of Evelyn’s millionaire friends, mostly rich old women and their bored consorts.

They were all pleased that Franz Josef was Imperial Chancellor now. They very much cherished his plan of a new economy – and were eager to earn their share in it, but they were not amused about the riots and the areas controlled by the rioters. Would he really succeed? One had invested in him and his party, would it nicely pay a divvy? Or had it been a gross malinvestment?

Albert knew that most of them were quite in accordance with the old DVP’s antisemitism. After all, Jewish businessmen often were among their worst competitors. But they had never openly supported the party. With Franz Josef’s entrance this had changed. The promise of a new economy and of less bureaucracy were worth something, even if the DVP’s old grubby image had never vanished entirely.

Yeah, and over there, hardly able to stand straight, Evelyn had just commenced spilling out spicy details of her flings with Franz Josef to a bunch of very interested ladies. Should he try to stop her? He was her husband, after all. But it wouldn’t work. You couldn’t stop her right now. This instant, the ladies were eying him appraisingly. They knew Evelyn had chosen him, a nobody, because of his virile qualities. If she truly cuckolded him with Franz Josef, what a magnificent stud must the chancellor indeed be?

Albert smiled inwardly. What a hoax! Not only that Franz Josef had to domesticate the rioters and to gull his coalition partners; from now on, he would also have to carry a long stick – for keeping those mature wealthy ladies away from his fly.
 
It is not the biggest, the brightest or the best that will survive, but those who adapt the quickest.
(Charles Darwin)

Once again, S-17 ‘Jaquetón’ was floating in the Bahia de Neiba. One had just dropped anchor – and was now intensely observing the vicinity. Were the Askaris there? The Amis were not here, at least. With the exemption of several birds, everything was quiet; the sea was calm. Yes, one would allow swimming, decided Teniente de Navio Julius Nyerere; the chief helmsman was to organise the event.

It took almost two hours, until a figure was spotted on the shore. Yes, it was one of the Askaris. The rubber dinghy had already been launched. It took only few minutes until it had reached the place. And all of a sudden, the Askari had quintupled. Indeed, all five Askaris were there. Nyerere was curious what they would have to tell.

But he would have to wait. Swimming and bathing came first; the Askaris had spent two months without such luxury. And once body care was finished, there was no reason to sojourn any longer. But on the way home, in the officers’ mess, the lieutenant was giving him the low-down.

Yes, there were indigenes, quite a lot of them. One had found them rather soon, on the fourth day of the mission. They were French speakers and Negroes, all of them. Cannibalism? One had observed nothing of that kind. They were migrant hunter-gatherers.

One had observed three groups of them, each comprising about twenty-five adults and roughly the same number of children. They were using bow and arrow – and had steel knives and steel axes, but one had seen no firearms – or any other advanced technology.

No, the lieutenant didn’t think they were immunes. There were too many of them. These had to be normal people who somehow had avoided contagion. That certainly also explained why they were avoiding strangers – or were killing them on sight. One infected person might kill them all. Well, there were no infected persons around. But they didn’t know that.

An indigene population on Hispaniola! Nyerere was fascinated. It opened up some very interesting possibilities. What might his superiors decide? Was one going to fret the Amis? Or would they rather flag the issue down?
 
An excellent man; he has no enemies; and none of his friends like him.
(Oscar Wilde)

The military had released him. But they had not given him what he wanted. The Irish Isle would not be searched for immunes. One had more urgent things to do right now. At least an aircraft had been allocated to shuttle him back to the Isle of Sheppey. Flying over the Netherlands and Belgium by night was a revealing experience. There was only darkness. Neither the Groningen Angle, where the surviving Dutch were labouring, nor the Wavre Triangle, where the last Belgians were trying to rebuild their nation, had been flown across. Yeah, and England was dark anyway, not only by night.

Okay, a fortnight misspent, it couldn’t be helped. At any rate, his assistants had worked diligently in his absence. All the fancy stuff he had collected in Africa had been analysed and catalogued. Aruwimi had kept mutating in the human blood samples it was cultured in. One could almost see it. Each sample was different – in colour, viscosity, spissitude. It was amazing. This pathogen behaved as if it had been tailored. But that was impossible. Or was it? – He needed guinea pigs, human guinea pigs, to fathom this disease. So, this had to be postponed… Perhaps some of the Negroes that were still roaming around in England…

In Ireland everything had been quiet. No other wildman had turned up. That was a pity. – Over there, at Hammerhorst, construction had grinded to a halt – for lack of supplies. That must mean they had loose time right now. Might he be able to talk them into searching their forefield? He had to phone the boss over there, Doktor Rüchel. The man was a renowned scientists; he certainly should understand. – Professor Sigbert Ramsauer was seeking after his telephone list. It had to be somewhere on his desk…
 
God, grant us our desires, and grant them quickly.
(Catherine the Great)

At the age of thirty-seven, Crown Prince Friedrich Wilhelm Viktor Emmanuel of Prussia had resigned himself to not siring a son anymore. Ten years ago, he had married Margaretha Désirée Victoria of Sweden. To date, six daughters had seen the light of the day – but no boy. And now, after the sixth girl, the physicians had urgently advised that Marga better should not become pregnant again.

Amending the House of Prussia’s order of succession so that Luise Sibylla Cecilie, his oldest daughter, born 1952, could succeed him to the throne proved a veritable Sisyphean task. His father, the Kaiser, wasn’t entirely adverse, but also not yet convinced it was truly requisite. However, the powers that were abhorring all change had already sensed the intent – and were campaigning against it. Prussia had always been ruled by men. And the Kaiser a woman? That was unthinkable!

Well, the current crisis might knock over the whole game. It was a revolution – or rather two of them… Either the councils had their way – or Strauß and his hoodlums. Both didn’t bode well for monarchy in Germany. While Dad had sought refuge at Rheinsberg, Fritz and his family had swerved to Königsberg. That had been a bad idea, because the town had quickly fallen to the rioters. The Königsberg city council had taken over the castle – and the family had been accommodated on the Friedrichsburg fortress island.

So far, the rioters had behaved civilised. The island was surrounded by the Pregel River, hence the guard force had been confined to a small detachment of older men and women. The girls still thought it was a great adventure, but Marga was complaining stridently. She was missing the customary comfort – and her maids. Fritz was distraught. Escape was impossible – with seven women in the wake even a garden shed would be an escape-proof prison. He could only hope that the rioters didn’t run amok…
 
Good decisions come from experience. Experience comes from making bad decisions.
(Mark Twain)

Strauß had formed his government – the misanthropes, the bigots and the star gazers in cahoots together. This did not bode well for liberty. One had to do something. Alfred Dutschke had been quite surprised that the Berlin rioters should be so easily accepting his intellectual leadership. Folks seemed to have had no discrete conceptions for the future. Oppression and gridlock had to go away. But what should come then? Who would manage the space effort – and establish the colony on Jupiter?

Who would lead the country, once the old geezers had been chased away? There were many ideas, in fact too many to be practicable. And somehow, in the discussions, Dutschke always carried it off to have a majority agree to his proposals. Yes, the discussions… They were time consuming – and many dudes, the tough thugs, couldn’t stand the palaver, but they were necessary. Dutschke firmly believed in grass-roots democracy. It was the true thing; parliaments were places of corruption.

The thugs thought the claptrap was noxious. One had to act – now – quickly and decisively. The reactionaries wouldn’t wait until the discussions had reached a conclusion. Strauß wouldn’t parley. But Dutschke knew better: police and military were disorganised. It would take time until the forces of evil were ready to strike again. There was ample time for discussion…

And the more intelligent among the rioters were agreeing with him. Things had to be trashed out before one acted. One needed a common basis. And one had to coordinate with the councils in other towns. Obviously, the reactionaries were doing nothing. They were still paralysed by their failure to quell the riots…
 
Life forms a surface that acts as if it could not be otherwise, but under its skin things are pounding and pulsing.
(Robert Musil)

Alfred Dutschke was right – to a certain extent: the army had suffered a crushing defeat. They were demoralised and humiliated. Not only the conscripts had choked, the NCOs and officers had fallen through as well. Even if the army had never trained for such a case, the failure aroused serious doubts about their performance in a future war. The whole system had to be overhauled from the bottom up. Forty-five years of peace had blunted the sword; it would take many months to sharpen it again.

But what applied to the army wasn’t true for the police. They hadn’t failed; they had been overwhelmed. There had been too many rioters – everywhere and simultaneously. For that reason one had called for help. But the police officers were no raw conscripts; they were tough professionals. If the whole police force could be massed against a single target, matters would look quite differently.

Unfortunately – at least for the Strauß government – the police force belonged to the individual states. And Prussia was – again, after the AFV interval – ruled by the SPD, who felt no love for Strauß and the DVP. The Prussian government would not oblige to the wishes of the Wilhelmstraße. For them, the situation in Berlin was stable and uncritical.

One would focus on Silesia first. It was the smallest industrial area – and hence could serve as a dress rehearsal. Once this had been taken care of, one would liberate the Saar – and finally the Ruhr. Arresting the rioters in Berlin was not a priority, sorry. And one would not conform to any time tables issued by the imperial chancellery.
 
People could put up with being bitten by a wolf, but what properly riled them was a bite from a sheep.
(James Joyce)

Surveillance of the forefield was the official designation of the operation. Off the record it was called the hunt for wildmen. Jochen Zeislitz didn’t mind. As construction had been halted because no supplies were arriving, the operation was a welcome distraction. Of course, the civil workers and the engineers couldn’t be sent out, but the military men could. Jochen, the highest ranking air force officer around, had been put in charge of the air operations. That was a distraction indeed. Okay, he had a staff for working out and controlling all details, but nevertheless the job kept him busy day and night.

Otto Remer was in charge of the ground operations. After all, the man was an accredited specialist for such things. But the ground troops would only be sent out after aerial reconnaissance had found something. Until now, one had found nothing. – One was searching with two recce airplanes which were equipped with two sets of cameras, normal light and infrared. However, negative films weren’t available on the supply chain; one had to produce them locally. Nevertheless, the pictures were of excellent quality – for the purpose… One had photographed dogs, foxes, cats, sheep, cattle – and a lot of other beasts, but no humans.

In fact, Ireland wasn’t that large; it had just the size of Bavaria. But one overflight wasn’t enough. One would do three of them. And after a pause of seventy-two hours, another three turns. The three days in-between were required for developing and analysing the films. – Well, there seemed to be no wildmen. False alarm, obviously. But then, the alarms went up! Yes, this was a fire pit! And Otto’s search parties were scooting off in their helicopters.
 
History is direction – but Nature is extension – ergo, everyone gets eaten by a bear.
(Oswald Spengler)

The white bitch had arrived yesterday – with a letter from the spokesman of the consortium. She was a consultant and he was to support her while she was evaluating the colony. Jimbo Owens was deeply distrustful. What kind of horseplay was this? Were they trying to get rid of him? Or why had they sent this crosspatch? She came from Mexico, she had told him, where she had worked for President Cárdenas. But she had lost the fight against nature – and had resigned. Jimbo didn’t think he understood what she was talking about.

Victoria Keller was her name. She was young and tough, of the type usually called shotgun dame. And she obviously was used to issuing orders. – Okay, he had tasked one of his underlings to show her around. That had been a mistake. Cisco had tried to lay her, it seemed. And she had gutted him with a combat knife. Now, she was sitting in his office – and yelling at him. Goddamn no, he hadn’t arranged it. He was really sorry…

Yes, he would come with her and show her the colony. He didn’t call it kingdom in her presence; she wouldn’t understand that. The colony wasn’t producing the revenue it should, it was true. One was lagging behind expectations. The frigging farmers were lazy sods. And there were too few of them. One didn’t get enough workers. – Yes, there had been a famine. People had… no, not died, run away…

No, money was not a problem. The folks in Houston were true to their pledge. But dollars wouldn’t buy more folks. Those who could be bought were already here. How was the situation in Mexico? Severe lack of population… Yes, of course, they had been hit much harder than the US. – Did she like rum? One was producing the stuff. Sugar cane and tobacco were the plants with which one hoped to achieve profit. This was Cuba after all. Even bananas might pay off…
 
It is a curious fact that with every great revolutionary movement the question of ‘free love’ comes into the foreground.
(Friedrich Engels)

With a delay of three days, Doris Zülch had finally made it to Dresden. At that point in time, the city had already been under the control of the rioters. Nevertheless, her appointment – postponed telephonically – had still taken place. That, however, had been the last thing occurring to schedule. The Saxon rioters, it seemed, were a special lot, socialists and communists of the most radical kind. The People’s Republic of Saxony consisted of Dresden, Radebeul, Coswig, Meißen and Pirna. The King had dislocated to Moritzburg – and his police was now besieging the PRS.

It wasn’t only the police. The Saxon Army had failed just like their Prussian – and Bavarian – comrades. But those elements not run away, mainly officers and NCOs, had been taken to reinforce the Saxon Police. So, you had now cops armed with tanks and artillery, quite a nasty combination. The Great Council had answered by mustering a general militia. One had captured enough weapons to form four rifle regiments. Hence, the PRS was very much resembling a military camp.

But everybody knew that green riflemen couldn’t hope to stop armoured cops. Why the Royalists were still hesitating nobody knew. Yet, doomsday mood had already seized Dresden. People were getting drunk everywhere – and wild orgies were celebrated without restraint. Doris had tried to leave the town. It was too dangerous – either the militia would shoot at you – or the police – or both. So, she had made herself at home in the hotel. Even there, morals had broken down – and, much worse, service.

Doris had experienced many awkward situations in her life, but Dresden had the potential to beat them all. Well, perhaps it was a question of age. In her younger years, she certainly would have taken less offence. But witnessing a drunk chamberlain puke while being bumfucked by another drunk dude wasn’t fun. Nor were pee blotches on the hallway floor – or vomit in the elevator. It was just nauseating. One could only hope that the Saxon Armoured Police was going to make short shrift of the whole mess…
 
Still hard to believe that all this started because the government refused to set up a colony in Jupiter.

......Unless there were already a lot of grievances shimmering beneath the surface and the Jupiter colony is just the final straw.
 
Incompetence is often highly regarded in governmental circles.
(William Wallace)

Oskar Kabinga was travelling for Sikuku Enterprises again, this time to the Philippines. The tycoon was looking for budget workers, which in this case meant dislocation of production facilities to the islands. One should think that such an agenda opened every door, but that grossly underestimated the prevalence of incompetence in Manila’s government district.

Emilio Aguinaldo had won the civil war; his party was filling all important slots, not only in the government. Well, Aguinaldo was ninety-four, bedridden and decrepit. Who was really ruling here? That was what Oskar was trying to find out since four days. Sure, everybody here was keen on acquiring a lump of Sikuku money. But he wasn’t interested in greasing the wrong fellows.

Aguinaldo had won the civil war with considerable Middle African help. The embassy had been instrumental in bringing that off. Did they happen to know who was ruling hereabouts? Yes and no… But at least they were able to fill Oskar in on the givens. There were, in fact, four factions competing for power. And one didn’t know which one was going to win.

Would there be another civil war? That should kill the tycoon’s concept in the cradle. – No, rather not. The factions had fought together. They would somehow apportion the cake. It was just about who was going to get the biggest piece. There might be some murders – and perhaps abductions, but no open war. The problem was instead that as long as the old man was still alive the dispute was suspended.

That was unfortunate. He would have to report the situation to the big boss. It was not advisable to invest in this country until the power structures had been sorted out. How long was Aguinaldo going to live? Nobody could tell. The man had been old and ill for many years – and had nevertheless directed his party’s war effort. – Okay, the passage to and fro was nice. And the girls here were cheap. Oskar wouldn’t mind to repeat the job – after the Philippine cake had been apportioned.
 
Is the Egon character supposed to be Egon Krenz?
Also, are there still immune people in the UK and Ireland? Why hasn’t anyone rescued the immune in the various islands? Do they still spread the plague?
 
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