[an early paper on new world control and the change of dynamics between the sexes]





MOST OF THE time when we talk about the future, or envisage it on hardcopy and paperback, we mainly look at the visible changes, at what happens tangibly in the world around us. will it be closer to the collective dream of a bright, sun kissed UTOPIA or – the prediction of choice – rather be inclined towards a somewhat darker, DYSTOPIAN reality? either way, hardly anyone looks at the invisible changes which are taking place within the individual and the collective psyche of western, urban, post-sex-and-the-city-watching, singlehousehold-celebrating women and men. it is those below-the-surface changes which this paper wants to focus on first before it moves on to discuss the more obvious visible changes thereafter. it is going to have a look at the present stage of the primordial battle between the sexes from the viewpoint of both molecular biology and systemic psychology and will then attempt to predict where it could all go. only after a proclaimed paradigm-shift have we got a reasonable chance to understand those visible, obvious changes which are currently taking place around us. it will have fundamental implications on how we perceive ourselves as human beings in the future, on what it means to us personally and collectively, to be born into this universe and into the sex we’re genetically pre-programmed with – and ultimately what human relations and emotional interactions really mean to us. this paradigm-shift will affect the way how we live our everyday life in western civilisation more than any technological framework which as it presently seems will attempt to control and record our every movement and thought in the future. instead of submitting to a life of slavery and despair we will learn to detach and take for granted that there is no short-cut or quick-fix in this life, no lottery win or dream partner, to achieve an utterly subjective concept of HAPPINESS and BEAUTY. and that after all, personal growth and the unfoldment of our core potential is all we can strive for in a world where everyone is stuck in their very own psychological / karmic prison. it will be clear to each and every one of us that the universe presents itself in all its futility on a day-today basis and we’re continuously challenged to appreciate its beauty throughout the course of our lifetime – despite the incomprehensibly dark feeling that perhaps after all, perhaps within nature itself, in the midst of our dreams about peace, freedom and love, it might as well be all about power and we’re asked to find out where we stand on this and then go ahead and deal with it, be political, take responsibility.



THE BOTTOM LINE of contemporary SYSTEMIC PSYCHOLOGY is that on the most visible layer of human experience we’re all monkeys with passports and bank-accounts trying to patronise each other into submission. the individual starting or stand point of the females and the males, hereby, differ completely, so that dependent on the genetic code we carry inside, we’ll have to familiarise ourselves with quite a specific set of rules in order to be able to compete in such an unsettling ‘reality’. the major key to successfully climbing the pecking order is not so much violence but sexual attraction. the females would try and seduce the coolest and sexiest male within any given system while the males would try and be seduced by as many sexy and cool females as possible.

looking at the same situation through the eyes of MOLECULAR BIOLOGY, we’d find ourselves trapped in an even deeper and darker scenario. there’s a gene called SRY sitting on the male Y-chromosome whose task it is to make itself as seductive as possible by ‘running away and hiding’. it’s the fastest evolving gene of all, apparently. the opposite gene, named DAX, sitting on the female X-chromosome, attempts to attach itself to this attraction and as soon as it manages, would try to eradicate this genetic advantage. this seems, as we presently see it, to be the main ‘game setup’ of ‘human evolution’ – at least on the ‘monkey plane’. the implications of acknowledging such information as the actual building blocks of our societal structure are obviously numerous and vast.

we become thus brutally aware that we’re all totally alone in this world and pretty much openly at war with everyone else – without actually wanting to be. the imminent question arises, what does friendship, career, relationship and success really mean to us, personally? in the midst of the struggle to be the ‘best’, most of us would never let go of the mysterious subterranean urge to be nice and kind to each other. where does it come from? how can it work? we’re thus continuously being challenged to create structures throughout our lives which are solid and strong while they still allow us to relate to others without jealousy, fear or dependency. we eventually discover that only by being free from any emotional hang-ups can we affiliate with other people respectfully and affectionately and therefore build lasting, secure bonds between us, based firmly on trust.

but until then there’s still a long way to go. at present, most of us interact with each other on a ‘neurotic’ default level, thus perpetuating a CYCLE OF ABUSE. we’ve all been ‘damaged’, down the line, which means that while we were growing up, someone forcefully overstepped our extremely fragile boundaries and ‘broke’ us. we then either react submissive regarding to those injured character traits (we’re repressed) or we begin to stand up against it and find in turn other repressed victims to patronise – we’ve become repressors ourselves (compensating stage of the cycle). either way, we’re not capable of confidently claiming the respect we deserve from other people around us while we’re also not ready to give them their dues in return. we don’t self-assert ourselves successfully enough to receive nice, healthy feedback from nice, healthy people around us. the abusive cycle is essentially creating a prison we feel we’re trapped in forever. it becomes increasingly clear, the older we get (unless we’re losing the plot beforehand :), that the only way to escape it, is through INTERNAL EMOTIONAL HEALING.



IN THE OUTSIDE world, meanwhile, the grip of THE SYSTEM is becoming tighter and tighter as we speak. on the agenda is an infiltration of THE PRIVATE, enforced with a surplus of knowledge and technological superpower. politics will start and end here, by evaluating the threshold on how far we really want THE SYSTEM to penetrate and control our PRIVATE LIVES.

THE RIGHT will thereby argue that we have not to worry about it, because THE SYSTEM, by firmly taking control of what is happening within the realm of its borders, will provide us with the security we’re craving for in a world where we can’t even trust our own neighbours. it’s just so much easier to get on with emotionally deadening family life as long as there are scapegoats next door to blame for the misery of this unsettling and loveless existence.

THE LEFT, on the other side, will claim that we don’t actually need any additional structures, designed to further regulate us private citizens. cctv-monitored cities, passports, bank accounts and national insurance numbers are already enough information we’re prepared to give away, for the system to affect our day-to-day lives. we want to be in charge of our destiny as much as possible ourselves. and if we then also step a bit more onto the GREEN side of the political spectrum, we want it to even pay for the damage been done to us already. we’d feel that therapy has got to be one of the basic needs democracy has to cater for – and it better be a good one, either.

at present, there’s still room for speculation about how far the next rollout of power will carve into the private sphere. will there be compulsory identity cards issued at birth or as soon as we renew our passports? will they be also storing an imprint of our DNA? perhaps it’d be quite handy when finally medicine has come up with proper stem-cell organ reproduction? or would it just serve the evil interests of sleazy insurance corporations, hooked-up 24/7 to the main government computer? shall there be a centralised database, storing each and every move we make, book we buy, person we love, touch, talk to? are we actually being informed as to what extent those plans have been put in place already? at the moment in the UK, journalists’ emails circulating amongst intellectuals are the only reliable source of information the public is getting concerning the actual scope of those about-to-be-signed-off ID-cards.

apparently the current proposal will see cards with an iris-scan, a photograph and our fingerprints stored on and they will be connected to a centralised database, inconspicuously called the NIR, for ‘national identity register’. this database will hold records about every citizen and will have unlimited spaces for whatever further details of our lives to be added, without the need for a further act of parliament. we will be able to swipe them through card-reading terminals, pretty much like the credit-cards we’re already using, where they can be checked against the carrier in realtime. if we buy alcohol or cigarettes or prescription drugs, shopkeepers will be obliged by law to verify our age / eligibility by giving our cards a good swipe. if we apply for a loan, a driving license, a mobile phone, an internet connection, we’ll have to hand over our cards again. on top of this, all data collected about us can be linked to any other private card-issuing company-computer which on its own is allthe-while busy gathering even more vital information about us, like supermarket loyalty-cards already do, for instance.

however and whenever all those far-reaching plans will actually be put in place, the final scenario is pretty obvious. we’re all going to be utterly tracked and screened by THE SYSTEM, and it’ll be only a matter of time, until these unimaginable powers shift enough towards THE RIGHT, for our destiny of living a life in blatant, unmasqueraded slavery to become an obvious reality. how much we’ll by then be able to retain some last sense of freedom will depend largely on how well we’ve been able to take all our invisible, psychological changes on board, in the meantime.



A LOT OF the issues raised in PART I have already become noticeable in western mega-cities like london and new york. in a world where women have finally become autonomous – economically as well as emotionally – getting laid as a man by abusing your power will increasingly not work anymore. within this new paradigm (if not, in a way, always), women are now calling the shots. if they decide to sleep with a man, they essentially ‘buy into’ this person, take him ‘on board’ of a new breed of establishment (a female one, for a change). he’s then ‘loved’, he’s basically INSIDE THE SYSTEM. he’s got a fair chance to reproduce and therefore, at least genetically, ‘live on’. if the women, on the other hand, reject him, they’re throwing him back ‘outside’, where he’ll stay put and improve his seductive advantage, until eventually some other woman comes along who’d find herself attracted. this new empowerment of women is going to be a massive responsibility and they’ll therefore have to thoroughly learn how to deal with it, preferrably from early childhood. the type of men they choose as their sexual partners exclusively defines which genetic traits are going to make it into the future. and since they’ll also spend time with their men, apart from mating, they’ll also happen to merge with some of their experiences and judgements. they therefore not only genetically, but also politically, are discerning a certain course the future is about to take.

PUSSY IS therefore quite clearly POLITICAL.

in terms of the primordial power struggle between the sexes, the sheets will be onceand-for-all balanced. women have now the blatant power of CHOICE whilst men have in turn the power to BE CHOSEN. this adds up to ZERO, baby. no power games at all in any sexual transactions – only love, the pure language of the heart. sounds quite amazing. the future reality for both of us then, men and women, might therefore be that a few men will have to ‘serve’ several women (whatever that means in regards to the actual ACT of love :), while many men might be alone, though. (in a way, this is something that has always been going on, below the ‘visible surface’ of marriage). on the other hand, a few women might have to share their men also with other women – basically creating harems where women would be in charge. such outcome would blow apart big-time the somewhat childish hollywodian / paulinean idea of husband-and-wife-cells, compulsively churning out new children. but if the concept of family doesn’t work anymore, what will replace it? perhaps the hippies were right and we’ll live in big communes together, raising our kids through shared part-time motherhoods (fatherhoods?).

in terms of the system, perhaps through being online, through ‘realising’ our lives across the world wide web, so to speak, we already live in such communal villages. perhaps due to a newfound netiquette, a climate in which we confidently display our intimate secrets to other open-minded people all over the world, everyone will know everything about everyone else – including the publicly available genetic code. perhaps then, secrets are simply not that important anymore. and perhaps the power derived from knowing and abusing those secrets will thus eventually cease.

but most importantly, the current framework of economic power and cultural brainwash will lose its prominent face completely. within the whole excitement about individual freedom and uninhibited self-expression, it will totally crumble, as media and advertising simply won’t work anymore. who cares about the pleasures obtained from buying that drink, that magazine or that wrinkle-cream when everyone’s acutely aware that this is just not the way how it works, is it? we’ll thoroughly know at that stage what power can makes out of people whose ego is so hopelessly crooked that they’re slithering down into the neurotic abyss. we simply won’t buy into any more propaganda – despite the fact that we’ll most certainly still be force-fed with it, by both cynical, doomed governments and sad, coke-snorting tycoons alike who simply refuse to give up until the bitter end.



EVENTUALLY, the discussion about our chances against ‘evil world dominating powers’ will become more and more futile, since any attempt to control other human beings straight away loses its grip as soon as everyone’s detached enough from purely mechanical day-to-day interactions of the ego. in the new cultural climate, it will not be possible anymore, for people to patronise and bully each other. even the threat to nuke them, to anyone with the slightest trace of a brain – even an evolved monkey-brain – becomes utterly ridiculous. let’s therefore hope that whichever political wind we subscribe to in the future, that in bed no-one won’t opt for the ignorants to be made love to and at the table there’ll always be room for discussions, however painful and devastating they might turn out for some of the participants.

for any healthy individual, at the end of the day, the only real goal in life will be to make this world a place which works for everyone. of course, it is clear that there’ll always be an unequal distribution of money and resources, simply due to the ‘random’ nature of the fractal we’re all tied to, forever extracting and expanding through time and space. we have to accept the fact that some of us have just been given more beauty, gifts, money or health and that there’s obviously no one to blame for this. we’re only CODE / MIND / CONSCIOUSNESS, floating freely through an UNFATHOMABLE TIME-SPACE UNIVERSE. perhaps there is something like a PROGRAMME at work, governing all, who is there to say? in a society where life is  about individual and collective growth, feelings like envy and jealousy lose simply their meaning. whether some database tracks and records us or not, we’re able to build-up genuine networks with other individuals, perhaps also tracked and recorded, based on trust, respect and attraction. it is only unadulterated and unconditional bonds that connect us, down to our spiritual core. we’re all stars now. but in the tragic frailty of life, we’re all failures at the same time, as our time keeps slowly expiring.

perhaps in the far future, we might come up with ways to extend our lives on an as yet unimaginable scale. on the other hand, dying seems to be inherent to anything living. our sun will eventually die. but then again, perhaps there is an AFTERLIFE? or perhaps, by the time our sun dies, we’ll have found a way to spread the WORD, LIFE, the CODE into yet another galaxy or dimension and thus live-on ‘forever’, wherever ‘infinity’ leads us. whether we’ll land in a neighbouring or a parallel REALM remains to be seen, though. we might not be able to use our swipe-cards to get through the alien customs but we’d probably still want to make love until the morning dawns again.

London, July 2006
© 2006, all rights reserved


[a short story]


This really hasn’t been a great assignment, as I knew it wouldn’t be, but an important one nonetheless and it therefore had to be dealt with just the right amount of fake-responsible, pseudo-sincere attention. In the end, his outrageously vile body convulses and he grunts like a chimp, as he comes in my mouth and all over his golden, severely maltreated bedsheets. I have teased and caressed his strange looking organ for the last twenty minutes or so, knowing that he’d generally like it quite soft and tender. It is always again amusing to see that the more of an arsehole they are, the more they prefer the slightly gentle approach when in the end it all becomes terribly physical.

I’m really glad that it’s over. Still I pretend some affection by absentmindedly stroking the rubber-like skin of his body. Then I murmur some soothing words, “well well my cute little bear, you did really well, didn’t you?”, tracing my finger down from one of his nipples to the end of his shrunken member, full-stop on the crown – when to my sheer surprise I discover that he’s started to sob like a baby. For a wonderful moment he just lies there, pathetic and useless, on the most disgustingly expensive bed-sheets I’ve ever seen.
“Don’t you worry, my teddy, everything’s gonna be fiiiine”, I quickly gather myself, again portraying routinely my false concern. My lips wander towards his tightly squeezed eyelids which are meanwhile soaked with tears, dripping. And without any emotion – not even disgust – I lick them all off. God only knows what he’s crying about. Perhaps the thought of his staff pissing themselves over his hideously tacky shoes? Or that his breakfast this morning was ruined by another assassination attempt during which his favourite testing gimp had sadly to die. I don’t think my art made him cry – although somehow we ‘artists’, as we hookers are known here, would usually try to create such full-on, primal emotions.
Whatever the reason, I can’t really be arsed and mechanically stroke his huge forehead instead. He silently seems to enjoy it as he’s starting to calm down a little. Still sniffling, he finally raises his arm.
Instantaneously in come the guys from palace security. They’ve been monitoring my every move to such excruciating detail as to whether my arsehole perhaps suspiciously cringes while working Sir Arnold’s heavily insured sex organ. Although I bloody well know the routine it’s always again pretty scary how those chunky guys look completely the same. They’re the precious, muscle-packed elite-clones of good-old Sir Donald – in loving memory of Sir Arnold’s great-grand nephew who initially co-founded the empire.

After getting dressed and powdered again I’m ready to leave the dark chamber – with the faceless, identical clone-weirdoes escorting me through the vast building. In silence they march me through vacuous high-security corridors, squash me into recluse backstage-elevators, and I keep shivering with tension and unease. Until we at good last reach the ground where I more-orless straight away head to the exit. To my relief I notice that they were decent enough to order me a taxi again. It’d be terrible without one, since the streets are quite rough now, particularly around the palace. There’s a war going on, resistance and stuff, day in and day out, twenty-four hours a day. And the tensions and stakes are constantly rising.


If we look at it from the outside, it is probably quite funny, the way how we live now. In the middle of a mindless regime where reproductive cloning is the only way to get born, we’ve been left with a smooth, hairless skin down where our genital organs were once to be found. I’m aware that the image of people without balls, penis, clitoris or vagina sounds quite like a complete fascist nutcases’ nightmare – clean-shaven Barbie and Ken dolls aimlessly roaming about. But for us Normals here, in this world, it is the reality we’re doomed to call our lives. The systematic de-sexualisation of an entire population and the ruthless control of gene-pools are the final attempt in a series of strikes by just a handful of people to maintain the power they’ve gained forever.

My name is Skent and I’ve lived with this reality all my life. Although I’m indeed a product of genetic engineering, I’d still like to call myself a ‘human’. Rooted inside me, there’s also a programme responsible for rendering me genetically a ‘female’. It’s still some kind of XX chromosomes, that hasn’t been changed.
Although initially, they’ve tried to create only male clones. At some point, they were convinced that a framework of masculine prevalence would be the most efficient for their ludicrous heinous agendas. But in an ironic triumph of nature they had to discover that the best-equipped slave-clones evolved if a factor of sexual encoding was essentially left to chance.
Due to the countless generations of alterations they undertook, though, it has become almost impossible to tell from appearance alone which sex we’re carrying inside. There might be an inkling in somebody’s voice, or someone’s nipples are thicker and stiffen more quickly. Yet on the very surface, we’d all look pretty androgynous – also feel so – and it is therefore left for ourselves to decide under which sex we like to live our lives. As well as which sex we’d fancy being with at the end of the day.
Although it has to be said, having a partner is a luxury no-one can usually afford. Not only would you’ve got to have spare-time to offer but you’d also have to have at least some headspace left to allow another person in on you. Most of the assignments simply don’t allow such an elite-level of freedom. Instead you’re meant to survive with a bed in a cell, nano-made food in the fridge and the obligatory, bubbly-chubbly media-kit in the midst of it all – which mercifully turns itself off should you’ve successfully managed to fall asleep.

From inside the taxi, the faces I pass look all empty and sad. Most of us are alive only because a hardwired programme ensures that we by all means avoid our own physical extinction. After all – we’re an asset. This particular genetic programme has been tweaked numerous times now, after waves of collective suicide occurred on several occasions. They then simply extracted the responsible – ‘guilty’ – set of genes, ‘neutralised’ it. Until a new and improved breed of clones was again manufactured. Thus far we’ve been behaving really well for them – enduring without much reflection what has been laid upon our shoulders. Although there are rumours again, about some new waves of resistance to living. This time, the problem seems to be rather more complex, ruled by the forces of life itself. Beyond or underneath the genes, something seems to be adamantinely revolting against the ascribed happy-only version of how we’re supposed to look at this filthy world. Perhaps this is why I feel so strange sometimes?

After we stop, the guy driving my cab turns around to mumble robotically, “have a good day, ma’am”. I’d usually openly express my sexual identity with the outfits I’m wearing, partly due to my job but also I do really like dressing up, I honestly have to say.
“Thanks, you too”, I murmur, also without expression, because I don’t really want to create any emotional bonds, not even false ones, between me and this other person – male? female? – who cares. No one wants to create any connection – and everyone’s got so used to it that they‘ve come to like it like that.


I take a long shower and well-deserved, much-craved relief washes through my entire body. Then I curl-up on the couch and summon my media-kit with its fat, red-plastic button. It is the one thing that everybody must possess if we don’t want to risk prosecution. Pictures of wildlife randomly flicker into my room. A ‘documentary’, voiced-over by the usual educational propaganda-blurb. As I always do, I’m muting the sound to avoid consciously following what’s going on on the screen. Finally, I pick up the pod. And with a gesture quite clearly bordering almost frenetic excitement, I press speed-dial ‘1’ – connecting me at once with my sweetie – Twisp.
He’s the guy I’m in love with – if there’s any such thing – and twenty minutes later, about the same time it earlier took to finish Sir Arnold, Twisp is here, naked and thoroughly splashed-out on my favourite, sheepskin living-room rug. Holy shmoly – how much I love this cute guy. As ever, he smiles his coolest, sexiest smile while silently receiving the kisses I’m covering his tasty little bum with.

“How’ve you been?”, I ask softly after a while, not really wanting to break our precious moment. We’re hugging each other ever-so-tightly, as if there was no such thing as tomorrow.
It is only after he’s been caressing my body for a spell-binding eternity that he’s eventually bothering a reply, “I’m fine Skent. It’s all really going ok”.
He obviously doesn’t have the energy to even try and convince me that what he’s saying is actually true. Behind the surface of his outlandish beauty I can already glimpse first signs of the bitter person he’s slowly turning into. In one of my terrifyingly reoccurring visions I recognise my beloved Twisp as the shattered remains of this once most wondrous ‘human being’. The only ‘crime’ he’s ever committed, the only ‘sin’ he’s ever had in mind, is that for some reason he just seems to be born too honest into this sick world built on a whole bunch of lies.
In a brief, silent moment, as our eyes solemnly meet, I have again this horrible vision and something deep inside me suddenly breaks down completely. The feelings just keep flooding in and I cry, petrified and despaired, clinging onto my poor, beautiful Twisp. Fuck the system. Fuck fucking everything. I so much wish I could change it for him. What credit and love can do I’ll do but there’s so much more he needs than just be in my arms for one night or two every week whilst I’m hopelessly drowning in sadness.

Strangely enough, as we lie there entwined, in one of the most intimate moments we’ve had for a while, I notice that I’m about to be turned on by this closeness – wonderfully, ticklingly aroused. In an instinct that must be as ancient as when the first single-cell felt compelled to split in two, I start throbbing my bland pubic region against his. Gently at first, but then with increasingly more grappling affection. The sensations transmitted through the dry skin are merely a kind-of itching, very much like having been stung by a mosquito. Although I rub harder and the partly unsettling feeling doesn’t go away, I do eventually lose control and hungrily plunge my lips into his. He replies, as he always does, with his mouth to taste like a fruit you just bite into and smile.
After having had something which could’ve been an orgasm if I only knew how that feels, more tears keep draining my eyes. I’m tenderly stroking his body and soul – and he’s doing the same to me.
All I want is just to be with this person, the love of my life.

And I begin to realise that if nothing changes within the forthcoming weeks we’ll both just be withering away from here – vacuumed mysteriously into some hitherto undisclosed vortex of time and space. Leaving once-and-for-all any of the Sir Arnolds sadly to it – and thereby this whole fucking existence in shame.

london, october 2004 – april 2009
© 2004 – 2009, all rights reserved