The love of Solitude: Chapter Twenty Three

Written By Abdun Nur

Chapter Twenty Three


The art of war is of vital importance to the State. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. Hence it is a subject of inquiry which can on no account be neglected.” Sun Tzu, The Art of War

“Slavery works best when the slave is convinced they’re free. To reverse reality requires indoctrination, allowing almost everything to be diametric to the truth, so health care makes you sick, opticians damage your eyes, dentist destroy your teeth, government remove freedoms, police protect criminals, history makes the conqueror the hero and the past a fiction, just a concoction of lies, etc.

Tools are needed to achieve this breath taking feat of mental oppression, and the owners of State mafias use many, like a monopoly on violence, and a schooled perception of a powerless slave, economically mulcted to a tiny elite, unable to levy or curry any favour, instead controlled through baseless fears.

Therefore if you wish to end all war, extortion, monopolies, usury and so slavery, establish the inherent anarchic models of trade and community.

Once established, these ancient, yet forgotten, anarchic alternatives will expand, inherently rendering the State mafia obsolete. The feudal State exists to subjugate; economically and emotionally raping its sheeple population. Also the mafia owners use their slaves as expendable pawns to be slaughtered, either when attempting to steal the resources of neighbouring feudal State populations, often through genocide, or defending against the aggression of neighbouring feudal mafias. The psychopathic compulsions of the soulless owners of the corporation of State, to endlessly impose their monopolies and loot all into poverty, will only get worse if hierarchical models continue.” Abdun Nur

Phil and Sill left the hospital around 3am, they both had one hand bandaged. Sill asked an orderly where he could find a taxi. Armed with directions, they both began to walk to the taxi rank.

“Whaur we aff ta?”

“Gwen’s.” Sill replied as if the answer were self evident.

“We dinnae hae any keys .” Phil pointed out.

“Oh. Yeh…

Well, we could stay at a hotel. We’ve money...

We can’t sleep rough we’ve nothing with us, and the air is hanging wet. It’s bitter.” Sill said hugging himself as they walked along.

“A’richt. Soonds guid.” Phil agreed. The two men arrived at the taxi rank and asked the taxi drive to take them to a cheap hotel. They booked themselves into a double room, and they both slept soundly until just before mid day.

When Phil woke up, Sill was in the shower.

“Good you’re up Phil.” Sill said when he emerged ten minutes later.

“Aye. A’m busting, ye tuk a lang time in thair .” Phil said as he hurried into the bathroom and closed the door.

It was thirty minutes before Phil emerged, clean shaved, sparkling and smelling clean. Sill was dressed and ready to go. “Come on Phil, get a move on, I’m starving.

I saw a little cafe when we came in the taxi, about half a mile down the road. It’ll likely shut at one thirty. They usually do. It’s already twenty past twelve.” Sill sat on the bed waiting. “I thought we could visit Gwen, I think visiting time is at three. We can eat, have a bit of a wonder around the town. Then get a taxi straight there.

Come on. we have to walk there yet.”

“Ye ken, tis nae easy ta git sorted wi’ win haund, which is hurting.” Phil said in his defence, as Sill waited.

It was just after three when the two of them walked into the hospital, they found Cathy with Gwen when they eventually arrived at Gwen’s bed side.

“How are ya Gwen?” Sill asked.

“It looks like you too aren’t too badly hurt.

I’m fine.” Gwen said with a smile.

“Whin wull ye be back hame, did thay say” Phil asked.

“Hoping to be home this evening.” Gwen told them.

“Are you boys staying with Gwen?” Cathy asked suspiciously.

“Yes.” Sill replied.

“Gwen you’ve taken in two…Errm..Two..?” Cathy stated shocked, her feelings were unmistakable, she considered them both as unpleasant.

“These are both good fellas, Cathy.” Gwen told her earnestly.

“They’re clearly taking advantage of your good nature.

Just a couple of grifters.” Cathy replied.

Why are you being judgemental?” Gwen asked. “These gentle souls were forced to live in poverty, cast away onto the streets like discarded rubbish, no family to give them shelter, no real friends to support them, they were indeed both filthy when we first met, both homeless and without any financial security. Now they have me.

People ostracized these good and kind souls, they were ignored, shunned, often abused; simply for having nothing.

You seem to believe being in poverty is a crime, and the impoverished are, inherently, morally bankrupt?

Poverty is a crime, but not a crime committed by the victim, it’s a crime committed by those who inflict poverty.

You think a soul is worthless simply because the hierarchical system indoctrinates you to separate yourself from all others, and rank them in fictions of status?” Gwen was getting annoyed now, fueled by her own rhetoric. “It’s not an easy life being a tramp, and destitution is a hole that’s difficult to escape.

People see the filthy and ragged clothes of a homeless and desperate soul, and quickly form judgments. Judgments that are in the main wrong!”

“But their recalcitrant Gwen.” Cathy insisted.

“If they are. Good, so am I!

But how would ‘you’ know?

Boys!” Gwen said, directing her attention towards Sill and Phil. “Are you against being controlled and manipulated by a ruling elite, and do you view authority as a fraud, an illusion used to play people?

“Yes.” Sill answered. “Aye.” Phil agreed.

“Well, you’re correct Cathy, they’re both recalcitrant.

Everyone should stand against any system that inflicts poverty, restricts free expression, movement and thought, any system based on imposing the five monopolies of usury. In short a system of parasites!

Cathy, this is ‘not’ a good system, but one imposed to strip away any hope of real community. And that’s the situation across this small planet. Mafia’s called governments, work to reverse perception, to make the chains of slavery ornaments of pride, to make the greatest thieves and those utter bereft of any moral compass, or virtue, idols to be imitated in vicarious spirit. Worshiped even!

Mass murderers dressed in expensive suits, often disgrace the covers of glossy magazines, glorified by media, and above account for their endless immoral activities. While people of true value, like Sill and Phil, are abandoned, hated by the other slaves, because they’re vilified by the owners, to make the slaves fear real poverty and so seek status; the owners school fear into people, to make people believe poverty equals stupidity, to be destitute equals drug addicted criminal, to be homeless equals worthlessness. People are socially engineered to hate tramps like Sill and Phil.

Fear always makes people dangerous, as often does poverty!

People are schooled to fear, conditioned to emulate the soulless, to hate, to be contemptuous, to act narcissistically. But they should act as their inherent nature, seeking virtue, acting in compassion, empathy and friendship, after all we’re a single soul infinitely expressed. The ancient surety bonding model should be the foundation of our reality, but that ancient concept is occulted.

The owners want all to be isolated. It’s this isolation at its ultimate expression that Sill and Phil endured...

Of course I took pity on them, of course I gave them friendship, of course I feel empathy for their suffering, and now take pride in helping them.

I may have been more inclined to be… Cautious, before I met these guys, but through experience, I’ve cast away my indoctrinated feelings, the lie has been exposed, I feel only compassion for them now.” Gwen said firmly.

Cathy sat silent, just looking at Gwen in disbelief.

Sill stood watching Cathy, he recognized the glazed expression as it arrived on Cathy’s face, her mind had blocked off the barrage unleashed by Gwen, as soon as Gwen had agreed with Sill’s recalcitrant outlook, she’d absorbed nothing, Gwen may as well have been speaking Klingon, nothing Gwen could say would alter Cathy’s programming, she was in full cognitive dissonance now. Sill had a lot of experience with peoples cognitive shut down, their facial expression transformed as the State programming kicked in. He gave a small smile to himself as he watched Gwen’s impassioned outpouring, and Cathy’s psychological shut down.

“It’s OK Gwen. Cathy is only concerned about you, her beliefs are programmed into her.” Sill interjected.

“OK. Well Gwen I’ll have to be getting off.” Cathy said standing, eager to escape Gwen’s lecture and feeling a little humiliated.

Cathy said her goodbyes and left, while Gwen’s two confederates sat down next to her bed and made themselves comfortable.

They chatted for a while. “I talked to the police, I explained what happened, I didn’t mention the strange consuming blackness in the cellar or that I knew where they actually are.” Gwen told them, both men nodded without comment.

“We stayed in a hotel last night, we could book in another night if you’re kept in hospital longer than you’d like.” Sill told her.

“When we get back, you should devote some time to the cottage renovation, make the place a home.” Gwen told them.

“Ah wis thinking aboot that.

Ah know a builder, he’ll be in auld reekie this time o’ year, he’s a master craftsman. He hud some tairible…

Circumstances. Tragedy…A sad tale.

If you’d lik’ ah kin git in titch wi’ him, he’s a guid soul.” Phil suggested.

“OK Phil. You can ask him if he’d like to join our small community, I trust your judgement.” Gwen smiled.

“We could get a train to Edinburgh Phil, if you know roughly where we could find him, once we arrived?” Sill suggested.

Outside the hospital the two men walked towards the taxi rank. “We could get a train this evening into Edinburgh, and book into an hotel there, spend tomorrow looking for ya mate.” Sill said.

“Aye.” Phil replied.

“What’s your mate called?” Sill asked.

“Genie Bob.” Phil smiled.

“That’s an odd name.” Sill said.

“Th’ reason fur that is, he a’most ne’er speaks in mixed company, ‘n’ haes his arms folded most o’ th’ time, lik’ a genie. Sa he’s ‘Genie Bob’. ” Phil explained.

“We’ll get a taxi straight to the bus station then.” Sill said.

“Aye. Lets awa’ ta auld reekie. Haven’t bin thare fur a lang while, wis planning on go’un this year, afore we met.” Phil said.

Later the taxi dropped the two men at the bus station, where they caught a bus to the closest train station, for a train journey of several hours. Once they’d bought fish and chips they headed for the railway station eating as they went, then to the ticket desk, it was £37 each for a return ticket, by the time the train arrived in Edinburgh it was after eleven at night.

Phil knew a cheap boarding house not far from the station, and they walked to it. They found the street, which consisted of a long row of large Victorian terrace houses, on both sides of the road, each displayed signs indicating vacancies or no vacancies, and it wasn’t long before Sill was in the shower, while Phil slept, still dressed on top of his bed.

They both awoke early at the bed and breakfast, and after dressing, headed down stairs to eat breakfast, after which they left. It was, as it always seemed this time of year, raining when they walked out of the front door, but not too heavily, more a drizzle.

“Where should we begin, Phil?” Sill said.

“Ye nae bin ta auld reekie afore ?” Phil asked.

“When I was a boy, but not homeless.” Sill replied.

“As it’s a criminal offence ta sleep rough or beg, any fund ta be sleeping in a public place, or ta be trying ta beg, are hassled by the polis. Thay make it harder in auld reekie. Tourists, big money. Beggars ta th’ bloodsuckers in control; big problem! Th’ shops even make usin` th’ lavvy as hard as thay kin. Sa Genie might be dodging anywhere, we just need ta ask aroond, ‘n’ we shud fin’ him, fairly soon. ” Phil explained.

“Did you know their are over three hundred thousand people, homeless, in Britain Phil?”

“Ah didnae.

There ar much worse places mind.” Phil replied.

“That’s saddening to consider.” Sill said gloomily.

They walked around Edinburgh for a few hour, but eventually discovered Genie Bob’s location after finding someone who knew where he was.

They didn’t take long to walk to the Mosque, they’d been told Genie would be eating their, as the Muslims of the Mosque had a very cheap out door tent kitchen, and provided very tasty Indian food.

They had no trouble finding the mosque and as they rounded the corner of the building, they could see the tent kitchen with wooden benches and tables set out in front of it, filled with people eating at them.

They walked towards the diners, but it was Genie who saw them first.


I’venee seen ya in years. How’ve ya bin?” Bob asked with a broad smile, as the two men approached him.

“Genie, is good ta see ya as well.” Phil replied embracing his friend who’d stood up to greet him.

“You smell like a prince, and look like ya won the lottery Whitey, ad ave never guessed ya cud clean up sa well.” Genie complimented Phil.

“This is Sill, he’s a good friend of mine, he helped me sort my head out.” Whitey said presenting Sill.

“Good to know ya.” Bob shock Sill small hand, which looked like a child’s hand compared to Bob’s. Bob was a big man, at least six foot four and heavy set, but with a meek and friendly demeanour.


Why do you call him Whitey?” Sill asked.

“He’s th’ world vomiting champion.

His catch phrase wis . ‘Am gonnae whitey’!” Genie almost shouted with a broad smiled, making the other people, sat around at the wooden tables, look over, disrupting their eating.

“You tow shud git yersel’ a feed, it’s crakin’ grub, cheap, if ye lik’ Indian.” Genie suggested.

While they were eating, Sill told Genie Bob the whole story of his meeting Gwen, and how Phil had been helped by Gwen also.

“Nar Genie, whin Gwen offered us th’ chance ta repair th’ cottage by her hoose, ah instantly thought o’ ya.” Phil said.

“Why was that Whitey?” Bob asked.

“Ye nae interested in building roots, making a community, living wi’ some security, ya gitting old, like me?” Phil said.

“You’ve changed sa much whitey, lest time a saw ye, you’d na interest in leef, ainly swilling down cheap booze. Noo ya want community.

So. What’s in it for me?” Genie replied.

Sill felt a little saddened by that remark. “When my dad was alive he’d talk of Epictetus, who was born a Turkish slave, but through intellect became a Greek philosopher. He lived a couple of thousand years ago. He understood a little of the selfish nature of disconnected souls, I still remember what he stated, ‘It’s a universal law that every creature alive is attached to nothing so much as to its own self-interest.” Sill said.

“OK professor. Whit ur ye getting at? ” Genie Bob asked confused.

“Well, Gwen has a brother, I’ve spent my free time, since meeting Gwen, reading her brothers writings, he also referenced Epictetus. He talks of true common unity by applying inherent models of interaction, I believe we could apply these simple concepts and build a small community, as he suggests.

Every inherent model is anarchic, and all offer huge selfish advantage for those applying them.” Sill explained.

Sa ye’v na met her brother, just read his writings?” Bob asked.

“Her brother disappeared in the mid seventies.

Epictetus said fundamentally; ‘We’re at the mercy of whoever wields authority over the things we either desire or detest. If you would be free, then, don’t wish to have, or avoid, things that other people control, because then you must serve as their slave.’

So for example we use fiat money, which exists on the perception of value. Under the reasoning of Epictetus and Isambard’s direction, we should establish an advancing currency without hierarchy, that’s free of both interest and fees, fully guaranteed and anarchic, a model no one can control.

Trade is a fundamental aspect of common unity, you create things I want, and I create things you want, and we trade them. If I have something you want, but you don’t have something I want, then we need a medium of exchange to hold that value until a future point, when someone else has something I want. This medium of exchange ideally shouldn’t vary in true value, it should, no matter how long it’s held, retain exactly the same in value of exchange, this would be a true medium of exchange.

We seek ownership through tenancy, granted from the slave owners, when we should instead establish the allodial model free of granted title, State registration, legal malarkey, taxation, permissions, landlords; based on an anarchic bonding model that no one can, or needs to control. Based simply on establishing the blessing of those that neighbour directly the land sought, using a unilateral bond of behaviour.

We seek goods and services laden heavy with profit and taxation, instead, establish the alternative free of employers and employees, taxation, regulation, registration, license, grants, and profit.

The present system is dominated by capital. Capital dictates production, this means quality is low, prices high, labour is held hostage to minimum earnings, engineered redundancy fills the land fills of the earth. Technological advancements that threaten monopolies are suppression, needs are not met, often products are dangerously unhealthy for the user or consumer.

Instead reverse that insane model, where the need dictate production using a bonding platform. Funded with the advancing cryptocurrency, interest and fee free, fully guaranteed and allow those with the need to determine what best suits at requirement.

To be free establish anarchic bonded cooperatives that grow organically forming common unity.

Stop using the models that enslave you, establish the alternatives that free you, the advantages are massive, you only gain a few percent of the fruits of your labours now, anarchic models allow you to gain 100%.” Sill explained.

“Ye’r a young guy, a’m almost sixty.” Bob replied.

“Gwen’s in her nineties, age is more an eating disorder resulting in progressive systemic dehydration, than a natural inevitability.” Sill said.

“Gwen is remarkable Genie, yud think her fifty tops if ya met her.” Phil said.

Sa ya wana be communists?” Bob asked.

“Communism is the very worst form of slavery. What we desire is organised, structured anarchism, unfortunately most people claiming to be anarchist don’t grasp what anarchism truly is.

But much of what I read of Isambard’s writings, that’s Gwen’s brother. reminded me of a few of the ideas my father had found appealing. That being Stoic philosophy.” Sill answered.

“OK. Am na wiser, whit’s Stoic mean?” Bob said getting a little disinterested now.

The Stoic concept is simple, ying and yang, good and evil, the dichotomic nature of this shared perception. These ideas are based on actions not status. Good things flow from the inherent virtues, such as wisdom, justness, courage, and self-discipline. While the bad things flow from the opposites of these virtues, namely the four fundamental vices.

Which are folly, which means acts of foolishness, wickedness or wantonness.

Then unjustifiable acts, which means immoral or amoral actions.

Then cowardice, because cowards can never be moral, as a coward can have no defensible convictions, and in addition will seek to avoid both responsibility and accountability.

And finally indulgence, which is self gratification without reciprocation or consideration, or the inflicting of power over others, expressed as granted favour or privilege at the expense of those uninvolved in the grant but victims of its monopoly. All five forms of usury are founded on granted privilege.

Isambard extended these thought much further, although Isambard didn’t talk much about the negative vices, only the inherent and innate virtues.” Sill explained.

Sa ya want me ta hulp ya…Well this Gwen soonds interesting, but the problem is I’ve a girlfriend here in Eidyn.” Genie Bob said.

“You have?

How did that happen?” Phil asked a little surprised.

“She wis homeless, banks stole her hame a couple o’ years efter her husband was killed in an accident, then th’ State kidnapped her bairns, ‘n’ she wis lost.

She wis sleeping rough whin ah met her, ‘n’ we hit it af. Th’ council haes given her a bedsit noo, bit her bairns wur fostered oot ag’in her wull. Ta paedophiles most likely. She’s weel unhappy aboot that.” Genie explained.

“She has no family to help?” Sill asked puzzled.

“Seems her fowk ar back in th’ Ukraine, ‘n’ thay dinnae keep in titch, she merrid a Roma gypsy, ‘n’ this caused a rift.” Bob explained.

“Maybe Gwen can help her as well, if you explain the situation to her when you meet?” Sill told him.

“I’ll tell ye whit ah will dae, if ye pay fur me ta gar ta see th’ job ‘n’ talk with Gwen, ‘n’ pay fur me ta git back ta Eidyn, if ah decide against hulping, ah wull see if it’s worth mah time ‘n’ is a gud spot ta bring Alina.” Genie said.

“Sounds fair.

We talked on the way down to Eidyn, we’re not sure what Gwen will pay towards the cost of renovating the cottage, so we thought, if you work on the cottage, we’ll both share what we earn from working for Gwen with ya, when we’re not helping you with the building work, an even three way split. And once finished you and Alina are more than welcome to stay.” Sill told him.

Unfortunately lads, tis na gud. Gies the paper Flakey, ah’m away fur a turkish.” Bob said, as Flakey, an unkept and grubby man sat at a neighbouring table, handed Bob his newspaper. “Gis us five minutes.” He said to Sill and Phil, at which Bob disappeared inside the Mosque.

“Where’s he gone?” Sill asked a little confused.


Turkish delight.” Phil said indifferently.

“What?” Sill maintained the same uninformed expression.

“Turkish delight, ‘shite’!” Phil replied looking at Sill with a slightly judgemental expression.

“I see. The toilet, sorry.” Sill smiled.

Sill sat pondering quietly for a minute. “I was thinking about the blackness in Gwen’s cellar.” Sill said, wanting to share his thoughts with Phil.

“What if I was wrong about it being frozen time, and it’s actually Shangri-La?” Sill suggested.

“Blackness is paradise?” Phil screwed his face up at Sill.

“It’s believed by some that Shangri-La is a real place, but exists in another dimension. I was thinking maybe Isambard created an extra-dimensional gateway.

In ancient Tibetan scriptures, the existence of seven such places is mentioned.” Sill looked at Phil and raised his eye brows.

“Couldn’t you ask your murder victim?

He’d know what it is I bet.” Sill continued, looking expectantly at Phil.

“He’s nae talked wi’ me ferr a while, ah will ask in ma heid ‘n’ see.” They both sat silently for a few minutes.

Bob returned and sat down looking at the two of them, Phil with his eyes closed and Sill sat across from him watching. Bob thought them odd, but said nothing, instead he flicked his paper open to read.

Phil opened his eyes. “Nae. Nothing.

Ah think th’ connection is lost.” Phil concluded.

“Whit ye two up ta?” Bob asked lowering his newspaper onto the table.

“When would you be ready to travel up with us to Gwen’s?” Sill asked Bob.

“I could be ready tomorrow morning, I’ll have a talk with Alina.” Bob answered.

The agreement was made to all meet at the train station at 9am, and then head back to Gwen’s together. The three friends chatted for another hour, before Sill and Phil left, and went walking around Edinburgh for the afternoon, then returned back to the bed and breakfast until the meeting the next day.

Gwen arrived home at eight in the morning back at home. Tom had collected her himself from the hospital and was helping her along the garden path to her front door.

Gwen rummaged around in her handbag looking for the key. “No!

No key.” Gwen said frustrated.

“That’s a problem.” Tom remarked.

“I’ll call Cathy maybe she knows where the key is.” Tom suggested.

Cathy arrived about an hour later with the key. She pulled in behind Tom’s BMW, Gwen and Tom got out of the car to greet her. “Sorry Gwen, I never thought, ‘you’d need the key’.” Cathy said as she approached them.

Back in the house Cathy made them all a hot cup of tea and brought the tin of biscuits from the kitchen. “The Dean Gwen.” Tom had been stewing all morning over his obligation to tell Gwen the truth. But he just continued to sit deep in thought. “The dean.” Tom was guilt ridden but he couldn’t seem to get past the point of no return.

“The dean?” Gwen asked puzzled.

“Yes. The dean.” He chickened out. “Wants to have a state of the art security system installed in your house.” Tom said.

“I see. Well most of the artwork will be at the university shortly in any case, but I have no problem with a security system, as long as it doesn’t cause a nuisance.” Gwen replied.

“The whole house could do with updating Gwen.” Tom observed.

“It could?

Why do you say that?” Gwen asked disparaged.

“Well, modern windows, mew kitchen, new carpets, new bathrooms, that sort of thing, bring the house up to modern standards.

It’s certainly very dated, looks like it was all installed in the fifties.” Tom continued.

Gwen looked at Tom feeling affronted. She looked around her living room, her carpet was looking thread bare, her windows were single glazed wooden framed, her wall paper did need replacing, and the paint work did need repainting, now it’d been pointed out, maybe Tom was right.

Gwen looked back at Tom. “You are right. I should have the house updated.” Gwen agreed.

“Once the university promotes your work you’ll have plenty of spare cash to squander on whatever you like.” Tom’s own comment made him feel uncomfortable after he’d said it, realising Gwen had been coerced into her university collaboration. What was really playing on Tom’s mind was, he’d given Gwen his solemn oath, and that oath stood broken.

“I’ll give it some thought, I intend to get the cottage renovated, so I could renovate the house at the same time.” Gwen pondered.

“What happened to your two homeless friends Gwen? Cathy asked.

“They went to Edinburgh to find a friend of their’s.” Gwen replied.


I could stay with you today, at least until about eight tonight, but then you’d be alone in the house until the morning.” Cathy said.

”Yes, I believe the university is sending a small team, to begin the cataloguing, and moving of your artwork, first thing in the morning.” Tom chipped in.

“Oh so fast..

I wasn’t expecting such a quick situation. Well I suppose it’s for the best.” Gwen said a little sadly.

“I brought this for you as well.” Tom held out a gift wrapped box.

Gwen opened it quickly. She liked presents. It was a fancy mobile phone. “This is, what is this?” Gwen asked.

“A phone; I can teach you how to use it, we’ve all day together.” Cathy smiled.

“I see. Very nice thank you Tom.” Gwen said.

“The university has set it up with the top package, so you get almost unlimited calls and internet. Now once it set up, Cathy will put in the emergency numbers. For now if you have any trouble with Goldsmiths goons, ring the number for the university security, who’ll both come straight away, and inform the local police for you.

Once the security system is installed, it’ll have a direct line to both university security, who’ll monitor the surveillance cameras at the university, and the local police who’ll be informed if anything needs addressing.

The dean has talked with the police, and they will see you as a priority call should you need them.

I can arrange for a security guard to stay outside tonight if you like? As you’re alone.” Tom asked.

“No. I’ll be fine.” Gwen smiled.

It wasn’t long before Tom said his goodbyes and disappeared, leaving the two women alone.

Cathy setup the phone up for Gwen and showed her how it work, but the signal wasn’t strong, and it had some trouble staying connected to the internet.