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What could happen in just one day?
A Deadly Humorous Conspiracy Thriller
The Armageddon Clause: Outline | Conspiracy | Synopsis Outline

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Outline: The Armageddon Clause

It's the end of the world as we know it . . .

The Armageddon Clause is the twisting tale of political disasters, social chaos, environmental insanity, and a convenient dismissal of the meaning of life, all interspersed with sinister overtones of conspiracies, plots, and the occasional bout of extreme boredom, all overlaid with a thick coat of cynical humour.

This compelling and entertaining world of sprawling cities that extend beyond every horizon, long since colonised by discarded burger wrappers and cigarette ends, is filled with the endless chatter of communication where nothing is said. Concrete conurbations that are the scarred battlefields of consumerism, where old beer and soft-drink cans march in metal armies of billions, and the air is filled with the graceful flight of old newspapers, circulars, leaflets, flyers, and other inspirational literature. A tangled landscape of grey buildings huddling beneath black skies, standing defiantly against the dive-bombers of acid rain and pollution. Cities that spin upon a planet where no one is responsible for anything, and all that is wrong is the fault of someone else.

From their humble origins as mere monkeys to the fully evolved modern talking monkey, the human race is examined, poked, prodded, interrogated, ridiculed, and finally placed on trial. The defence case should be quite interesting. The rest of the Universe are all quite looking forward to it.

The Armageddon Clause follows the footprints of this strange species through the mess of a disintegrating city over a single day, narrated and lived through the eyes and experiences of a diverse set of characters and situations. Together with mothers and their children on the school run, insurance salesmen desperately trying to keep appointments, plumbers and traffic wardens arguing over kerb space, gangsters and police playing hide and seek, the homeless and the property developers who eye each warily, through to the Prime Minister, the Cabinet, and the tentacles of government, we go on Tube journeys that never end, down bus lanes to nowhere, cross roads that never move, listen to conspiracies at the highest level, help plot the greatest global fraud every attempted, and scramble around for meaning, or at the very least, something a little less confusing.

The tale opens on a cold, wet Monday morning in late October, in a London of tomorrow morning, an instantly recognisable Britain that has only had subtle changes: compulsory ID cards, extreme traffic controls, Urban Terrorism laws that watch everyone discreetly and detain indefinitely without charge, a beautiful sky of black clouds and never-ending rain, and conversations of eternal sarcasm. It is London but it could be anywhere. It's your road.

Depending on your point of view - or the height from which you look down upon it - a society that can at times be disturbing, go through brief periods of happiness and optimism, on the odd occasion appear even logical, and is forever wet. It is how we live; it's not a fantasy. It is a city that would be far more familiar and believable to us than some strange old footage of World War II London could ever be if they didn't tell us it was true.

Everyone is linked at some point: through family, work, politics, business, insanity, or, just by unfortunate coincidence, we are linked through our DNA to the same species and each other.

The city is about to grind to a halt. Nothing is ever going to work the same again as the thin fašade of infrastructure, from the government to the corner shop, finally crumbles and reveals the truth: nothing has ever worked anyway.

The Third World is about to get a great deal larger.
And it's not even Tuesday yet.

The Armageddon Clause continued . . . the full synopsis


 

Outline: The Forbidden History

. . . but it still keeps turning

And so we meet our new land, the seat of our civilisation, and the inheritance we bequeath to our children and descendants. This bitter and bleak land, once part of the modern world, is now lost to any pretence at culture and is governed by superstition, half-truth, and Rumour - the official voice of the ruling regime, and lone authorised tabloid newspaper.

This is the bewildering story of the search for the Forbidden History, and itself forms part of the evidence of the existence of an alternative history to the official version. It is said, by those who should know better and second-hand booksellers, that it contains the instructions needed to find the Forbidden History. Most sensible people dismiss this, the State has banned it, and the Authorised Religions hold purifying parties where they righteously burn copies of it. That leaves only you left to explain everything to. Just remember that the OSS might be listening or watching.

Documents such as these are banned in our nation, The Universal State, the homeland that encompasses all from the flat plains of ancient fields and the rotted lands of the south, rumoured to have once been the seat of civilisation and wealth in antiquity but now desolate except for one vast sprawling and overcrowded city, blanketed by razor wire and armed militia. The crumbling metropolis is surrounded by the Outlands, a bleak vista of dead foliage, howling winds and isolated outposts of hamlets and villages. To the frozen north, officially, there is nothing but eternal winter and poisoned air.

The Universal State is governed by the Party of Purityranny, the single permitted political organisation and the embodiment of austerity and total control. The purges are going well. Soon there won't be a single terrorist, heretic or traitor left. Only humour and a resolute refusal to face reality keeps the smell of death and the echoing of screams from sending everyone mad. That, and the endless committees overseeing all the other committees that manage the subcommittees, who supervise the Local Collectives, who in turn organise the Neighbourhood Shop scheme where most of the dissidents names come from, are still duplicating the warrant requests. In triplicate.

The fact that the Citizens New Model Militia - who should be keeping the purges on schedule - are in dispute via their Citizen Shop Steward with the Political Committee of the Office of State Security (OSS), also helps a few more bewildered Citizens survive a little longer. Until the paperwork comes through anyway.

At the head of the state, beyond reach of the Citizens, is the Supreme Minister, appointed by the Party and whose power is absolute. The Party is everything. It is your friend, your confessor, your priest, and your teacher. It licenses you. It authorises you. It supports you. It punishes you. Its all for your own safety, convenience, and protection.

The Party is watching. The Party is listening. The Party knows all.

Take me to: The Forbidden History

 

So what could happen in one day?

Today's damage so far . . .

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The Armageddon Clause

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