Alex Kelley sat in meditation, absorbed in thought, studying the chessboard of the nation. She laid out a web of understanding, piece by piece, watching the interlocking systems, tracking patterns, threads, and connections. The wall of Tansy’s living room had become a solid sheet of sticky notes, scribbles on napkins, and sketches of strategy.
She could sense their opponents amassing for a renewed assault. They were mad as wet cats about the resistance to the plunder monkeys. The elections drew closer by the day, and the people acted as if they were skipping through the daisy fields of democracy while the armies of the wealthy prepared for slaughter on the battlefield. Thousands of years of human history spun like a crushing wheel of time. Poor people struggled for dignity and justice; rich people fought for more, more, more. The ghosts of nobles and serfs, kings and peasants, princesses and peons, masters and slaves lined up in the living bodies of the present. The coming elections were a showdown of epic dimensions and Alex worried that the people were about to lose, yet again.
Know your enemy and know yourself, wrote Sun Tzu in The Art of War. So, Alex meditated on John C. Friend, and the elites . . . because there was something in the equation she was missing. Something she was not seeing. Something that affected the patterns that moved them all.