This is the story of Leo. At least, that is how I knew him mostly. Others have told me that his gender was uncertain and that some knew him as Leonie when he dressed as a woman. However, I have never considered this an issue of interest although others have tried to assert that this was a critical factor in Leo’s life and the decisions and discoveries that are attributed to him.
Leo’s father, Xavier, was a celebrated cleric. Whether he was a leading Islamic scholar or Christian teacher is a matter of debate. Categorizing him into these religious pigeonholes seems to me to be of purely academic interest. His impact upon philosophical theory, as well as his influence over Leo, does not require an easy placement within established schools of thought. I have always found his followers’ desperate grasp of his best-known aphorism rarely follows a further understanding of its meaning. ‘Without water, there could be no tree, and without tree, there could be no crucifixion’ seems to have been best understood by Leo.
Xavier was working in the era of the Autocrats. This was not his choice: he just happened to have been born in the wealthiest nation where it was considered heretical to poke fun at the political leadership. I was in the audience when the most controversial film show was raided by the police, and I found myself in a cell for a couple of days with Leo. The film ‘MAGA’ was a remake of the old ‘Planet of the Apes’ movie where the oppressive, armed enforcers were called the ‘Monkeys And Gorillas Authority’ – much to the chagrin of the actual President. The filmmaker was my talented twin sister, Artemis. But it was the record of Leo’s attendance at this show which, later, influenced critical decisions about his true political allegiances.
I will admit that my own feelings regarding patriotism are ambiguous. Like everyone else whom we knew at college and beyond, it was the ideals of democracy, liberty, social equality, and other principles of the Enlightenment to which we aspired. However, as there seemed to be nowhere in this world where these ideals were practiced, alternative commitments were made in order to survive in the actual world in which we lived. Artemis was hounded out of the country and went to live in Norway. My exile from MAGA land is of marginal importance to the story of Leo: but his deportation to the other great Autocracy was a critical moment in this century’s evolution.
My work as an image recognition scientist was of minor significance, but the projects upon which I and hundreds of others worked were important. Leo’s saw the development of ‘merones’ as a logical follow through from understanding Xavier’s saying. The conceptualization of what I naively thought of as deep structures that pervaded the Universe which could be accessed even at molecular level was what Leo explained lay behind his father’s thinking. Xavier wrote about these universal structures (he regarded the Cross as one) rather like Jung wrote about archetypes that pervade the dream world of people from differing cultures. Each of us casts our own image structures onto the molecular environment within which we live. The manipulation of what we cast by invading this personal space offered an entirely new set of weaponry. ‘Merones’ (an abbreviation of Molecular Drones) offered a tempting means by which to influence or even assassinate an opponent.
The initial attempts to assassinate President Zed using comparatively crude MAGA merones merely led to the rapid detention of those who had tried flooding the environment with thousands of merones in the hope that one or two would penetrate the defense dome. Zed, in retaliation, tasked his brother Gregory with developing far more powerful merones for a MAGA assault. The laboratory where I was working became a hive of activity attempting to reinforce the dome shields as the race to develop the best defenses became a priority for autocrats on every continent.
Whether it was with or without the permission of his brother, Gregory decided to use merones upon those he regarded as political opponents within the country. He would build various dome structures around them and, if they did not work, then he simply reported their death to a grateful President Zed. But Gregory was not as adept as the MAGA technicians in creating the most lethal merones, nor the means by which to stop them. Some whispered rumors in our laboratories suggested that perhaps Gregory was not averse to the possibility of Zed succumbing to the next attack, leaving the leadership open for him. The prospect of a Gregorian autocracy frightened many of us even more than the notion of a MAGA takeover!
Zed’s survival was entirely due to Leo’s genius. Much to Gregory’s annoyance, Leo evolved an alternative defensive strategy which required a depth of understanding far beyond Gregory’s abilities. But Zed would allow no new initiative without the approval of his trusted Head of Security, Krebs. Gregory pestered Krebs to block any suggestions from Leo. “We don’t even know if he is Leo or Leonie. And he comes from MAGA land. How can we trust him?” But Krebs watched the video of our being entertained by the Planet of the Apes remake and Leo’s subsequent eviction from the land of his birth. If anything, Krebs was more suspicious of Gregory than Leo. So, he allowed Leo to speak directly with the President.
Leo explained to Zed that there would be no defense dome as this would almost certainly be penetrated. Instead, Leo could protect the President if he were allowed to take blood samples from Zed. From these he would construct an entirely fake molecular image of the President. Zed’s own image projection would be obscured leaving the fake image open to attack. Sure enough, the MAGA attack saw swarms of merones destroy the fake. MAGA observers knew that the attack had been successful yet, the next day, Zed was more alive than ever.
It was a week after this brilliant coup that I met Leo. He was dressed as Leonie and was dancing in the Dionysus gay club: but Zed’s pathological hatred of homosexuality did not extend to closing the club where he knew his saviour would hang out for relaxation. On the contrary, there were several poorly disguised, heavily armed guards surrounding the building in case anyone tried to take down Zed’s star scientist. Even Krebs himself could be seen surveying the dancers from a vantage point. Perhaps he would have liked to join the dance?
Of course, Leo did not think of himself as a scientist. Like Xavier, he regarded the intramolecular realm within which he worked and roamed as the visible location of the archetypal structures that underpinned what we perceived as “reality”. Others in the club declared themselves convinced by voodoo and other animalist beliefs. But Leo, like his father, refused to follow this well-trodden path. He (or she) talked to me at the bar in the club about how these archetypal structures pervade our dreams as well as what we believe as the ‘real world’. “I loved my father and his delving into the substructure of life opened the way for us to understand the Universe in which we live and die,” he said to me. “But you know that those who took his words literally concerning water, wood and the crucifixion are as foolhardy as those who believe in the literal translation of the many holy texts that we are taught. Do you know that the fundamentalists who support the mad MAGA honestly believe that he will live for eternity provided they can erase all water and wood from the intramolecular universe within which they dream. They have gone about destroying all trace of water and wood so that his projected image cannot be crucified!”
“So, what will happen to him?” I asked.
“You will see his fate in a collective dream in the coming month. I am sure.” And, with that, Leonie skipped away and started dancing with a graceful man who had, no doubt, been thoroughly checked over by Krebs.
The International Celebration of Xavier’s Life and Work was due to take place in Oslo. Brilliant scientists and metaphysicians attended, and Leo was a star speaker. Zed allowed him to go provided he was accompanied by a small army of guards with an array of weaponry usually only on display for the autocrats themselves. Leo left strict instructions with Krebs that no one should be allowed access to Zed without the protective screen that could only be operated from within the President’s own private study. Michael Mayer (or MM as he was known) had been one of Xavier’s star pupils: but in Oslo he presented a MAGA-based theory that Leo described as absurd. “You fail to grasp Xavier’s insight that the crucifixion is primary and that it will find any way by which to become manifest. By deleting water and tree, you simply invite alternative manifestations.”
One of MM’s fundamentalist followers objected to Leo. “You are just a pawn in Zed’s game. You should not be here. You will say anything to deny the possibility that we can achieve eternal life for MAGA. He will not be crucified because we will prevent that fate within the confines of the molecular universe within which we are now the masters.”
“That idiot doesn’t even understand how immersion into the crucifixion archetype guarantees some form of existence beyond an individual’s physical death,” Leo commented to his guards who had no idea what Leo was talking about.
Gregory’s coordinated assault upon the MAGA presidency was timed to coincide with MM’s absence in Oslo. The launch of thousands of merones within the vicinity of the victim were countered by MM’s impressive ion dome defense. Over ninety five percent of the merones were destroyed: but the five percent that evaded the ions were more than enough to kill the man. The world’s press and social media largely presented this assassination as the response to the attempt upon Zed that had been totally countered by Leo’s defense. And, just as Leo predicted, many of the MAGA followers reported a collective dream in which they saw their hero strung up roughly within a latticework of metal scaffold bars – with no wood nor water anywhere to be seen.
Leo’s return from Oslo was marred by a crude attempt on his life. The aircraft in which he was travelling was forced to make an emergency landing when a sabotage explosive failed to ignite. Krebs met Leo the moment he arrived home with news that there had been another attempt upon Zed.
“We don’t know how the attacker evaded your defensive device. How is it possible?”
Leo surveyed the data sets and pointed to a telltale eruption of figures whose presence was unexpected. “That is an entry into Zed’s private molecular space. Whoever made that entry must have planted the disruptor which could kill our leader.”
Gregory told Krebs that he suspected Leo. But Krebs knew that Leo had already saved Zed’s life once before and, anyway, the attack was carried out when Leo was in Oslo. Zed, feeling very ill, and Krebs, looking very harassed, met with Leo to ask how to identify the intruder.
“That’s very simple,” Leo asserted. “Present that plume of data that accompanied the intruder upon entry into the identification funnel. It’s the same one you use for identifying anyone requesting entry into the palace. You will obtain a clear image of their face and a readout of their DNA. I will bet my last paycheck that it will be the same person who ordered the bomb to be planted in my aircraft coming home.”
When Krebs shared the readout with Zed, the president was incandescent with rage. “I knew that Gregory was ambitious: but to want to murder his own flesh and blood!”
The next morning the Dionysus was buzzing. Rumors surged and receded; no one really knew what was happening. It was thought that Gregory had fled the capital and was hiding out in one of the ecclesiastical palaces, protected by his close ally, Archbishop Nicholas.
When Leonie arrived, she caused a stir. Dressed in an immaculate silk dress and sporting a voluptuous, blond wig, she came and sat down near our little band of image recognition technicians and scientists. Krebs himself could be seen directing his men to create a protective ring around our table. The archbishop had issued a notice strongly implying that Leo was somehow behind the attempt upon Zed and that the case against Gregory was a foul MAGA slander. Krebs regarded this as a desperate act to save Gregory. After all, as the assault was taking place, thousands of delegates and a massive posse of his own guards were watching Leo perform in Oslo.
“You are looking very beautiful today,” I commented to Leonie. She smiled at me, her fellow fugitive from MAGA after the fury created by the Planet of the Apes remake. “Come and dance with me,” she said.
Dozens of couples were on the dance floor: but they made way for us. I whispered in her ear: “how did you do it?”
She began pirouetting and suddenly stopping with a jerk to point at the floor behind me. Then she repeated the maneuver but pointed at the floor behind her. I was unsure of what she was trying to say. But after a couple of twists, I realised she was pointing at our shadows.
“Shadow!” I said under my breath.
She nodded and called out a word that sounded like “young” but then I understood she was trying to make me focus upon the word “shadow” within the conceptions laid out by “Jung”. She laughed when she saw that I understood but gave no further clues in case others twigged what she was telling me. A few minutes later, she made a dramatic exit, plunging through the back door supported by a small troupe of dancers who had accompanied her throughout the performance.
There was a sudden stir as an announcer entered the club. Normally, governmental announcers only made pronouncements online or via tv and radio. But this one walked to the stage and silence fell across the room.
“A few minutes ago, despite all that our best physicians could do, our beloved leader, President Zed, passed away. No stone will be left unturned to discover how he was killed and the perpetrator will not escape justice. As a sign of respect, this club and the others that opened this morning will be closed until further notice.”
As we filed out, I could see Krebs talking to the announcer. He was agitated and gesticulating wildly. I hoped that an unstable Krebs did not spell danger to Leo or any of us whom he might suspect of treachery. Innocence, as we had seen, was no protection against a furious but perplexed security chief. But the truth was that Krebs regarded Leo as the one true, loyal guardian of his leader because of his initial action in diverting the MAGA merone attack. Krebs hated the pontificating archbishop and the fact that Nicholas was shielding the strongest suspect in Zed’s death had him pressing the announcer to declare Gregory as the most wanted man on the run.
In the event, Krebs never got his hands on Gregory. Thinking he was safe within the confines of the great cathedral was a sad error of judgement. Known as the driver of the merone attack that had killed the MAGA leader, a revenge assault was made against him by the Michael Mayerson team. He died holding his head and falling back onto the altar, a “sacrificial lamb” according to the archbishop, keen to retain some religious significance to the man’s death. But this untimely demise left Krebs with many unanswered questions.
The spectacular dance that Leonie had used to cover what she hoped was a secret message did not fool Krebs. Although he could not understand what was being said, he knew that there had been a message and was determined to discover what it was and what it meant. To mislead an intelligent analyst like Krebs, it was always best to keep as near the truth as possible. I realised that the reference to the Jung archetype, shadow, would have been worked out even before questioning, I hoped I was prepared for the interview carried out by Krebs himself.
“What was Leo telling you in the club?”
“This was Leo’s alter ego, Leonie, so she likes working in riddles and artistic poses. But I think I worked out what she was saying on behalf of Leo.”
“Well, tell me what she said.”
I took a deep breath here and paused. I hoped that this would convince Krebs that I was coming clean about the entire message. I asked for a drink of water and Krebs shouted to one of the guards to bring in a carafe. Once I had taken a sip, I went on with my tale.
“Leonie wanted me to understand the word ‘shadow’ in a very specific context.
She knew that in my face recognition work I would have had to study all the various theories about underlying structures that usually determine exactly what it is we see. So, she shouted a word that, at first, I thought was ‘young’. But that didn’t make sense. We know exactly how old Zed and all our leading players are. But then I wondered whether the word she was trying to articulate was ‘Jung’. Are you following what I’m saying?”
Krebs nodded and I knew that I had told him nothing he had not already worked out for himself.
“In Jungian theory, shadow has a very specific meaning. It is an archetype. But its significance alters between people. Shadow for me is not shadow for you. So, what was shadow for Zed? That was the question whose answer would tell us everything that Leo knew.”
I paused again because I wanted to gauge how much of this Krebs had already surmised. It seemed to me that this was just as far as he had reached and that my honesty so far should put me in good stead when it came to my interpretation.
“Go on. Don’t stop there!” Krebs was becoming excited. This was a good sign.
“My understanding of shadow – and you can check this out with any of our psychologist specialists – is that it is a bit like the contents of Pandora’s tin or box. All the fears and troubles that you have are contained therein and it remains as a constant thorn in the mind, pricking away with nowhere else to go. It is an archetype, so it cannot go away. It is a permanent feature of each of our universes. So, what was in Zed’s shadow. What was the fear that would never leave him? Whatever it was points to where the attack originated. I think I know what Leo saw as Zed’s shadow.”
“You can prove this?” Krebs interjected.
I shook my head. “There can be no proof now because even a deep trance analysis of Zed’s fears undertaken whilst he was under hypnosis is no longer available to us. But I think that Leo saw Zed’s deepest shadow as betrayal.”
Krebs and I sat in silence whilst he digested this interpretation. He was thinking about Zed as his boss, as his friend, as the nation’s disputed leader and of those who might represent a challenge. Eventually, he nodded.
“I have no idea why Leo has to put on all this make up and female attire. Couldn’t he just have told us what you have just told me?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not a performance artist. I’m just an analyst so I don’t really understand how his temperament works. But he is the creative. He is the only one to have evolved the effective defense against merones. He saved Zed against the MAGA threat but could not be here defending Zed against someone so close to him whilst speaking to the rest of the world in Oslo. I know Gregory and the archbishop were accusing Leo of this crime, but I do not believe a word they say.
Krebs nodded. “No. Nor do I. You can go now. Thank you for telling me all you know. Do you think I could discover more from interviewing Leo himself?”
“I’m sure you will try but my only fear is that he will transform into Leonie and annoy you for appearing to be evasive. But you know that, at heart, he is on our side and may have more insight into what our enemies are planning than any of us by dreaming and imagining scenarios that we cannot grasp yet.”
Krebs was woken up the next morning by a shout from Leo. He had had the cheek and initiative to visit Krebs at his home before the investigator called him in.
“What do you want?” Krebs was slightly annoyed, but Leo had him on the back foot.
“We need to establish a video link to Michael Mayerson urgently. We can bring this war to a successful conclusion: but only if I can speak directly to Mayerson. I know him well. He will be at a loss what to do next, but I am already a step or two ahead of him.”
Krebs was about to object but Leo walked away quickly and shouted: “I’ll call you later as I need to prepare now.”
That afternoon saw Leo with a very small group of us sitting in a study awaiting the video feed to go live. When it buzzed into life, we could see Mayerson in a huge operations room surrounded by dozens of technicians, security guards, software specialists (some of whom I knew) and psych specialists brought in to advise on how to deal with Leo. Leo sat with just a couple of face recognition people, an interpreter (if needed) and Krebs. He assured us that he could deal with “poor Michael”.
Leo had warned Krebs that Mayerson’s team would attempt to convince Krebs that Leo was the criminal who had killed his leader. “He will first try to sow division amongst his enemies. You need to pretend to be listening and, eventually, it will be my turn to speak. That is when the meeting proper will begin and we shall see how they react. I suspect that they will be shocked and may even disbelieve what I can do as they have no idea how to manipulate deep molecular structures. But they will have to learn.” Krebs nodded and Leo asked me and the other face recognition specialists to watch Mayerson for telltale facial expressions that would guide us in deciding how to deal with him.
The meeting began exactly as Leo had predicted. Mayerson asked Leo how he had managed to murder Zed. “Congratulations, Leo, in pretending to save him one day just so that you would have the opportunity to kill him and Gregory a few days later.”
Leo smiled and said he appreciated Michael’s professional praise for his achievements but that was not the main reason why we were having the meeting.
“You see, Michael, the question is not how to murder people with merones. What you and I need to agree is how to prevent people being murdered. Otherwise, this tit for tat war could go one forever. I am sure you agree.”
Leo looked to us for an assessment as to how Mayerson was reacting. “I think he is unsure. He doesn’t know where you are going in this,” I whispered in his ear. Leo nodded.
“Now I know that whatever verbal or written assurance I give you, or you give me, will be regarded with skepticism. So, without consulting you or other security focused personnel, I decided to act on my own and believe I may have resolved the problem finally.”
“How could you have done that?” a disbelieving security guard sitting beside Mayerson interjected.
“I’m sorry,” Leo said, “I don’t think I know you. Are you a specialist in molecular deep structures? If not, perhaps you will allow me to talk with Michael Mayerson who is one of the world’s experts.”
Mayerson pushed the man aside. “What have you done Leo?” he asked.
“It is all a question of which is the appropriate deep structure to engage when an attack is about to take place.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Michael, I have rearranged the substructure.”
“What! How have you done that?”
“An explanation of how my practice has developed so much further will have to wait until later. Meanwhile, let me explain what will happen if anyone attempts any form of merone attack, anywhere in the world against anyone – and that includes people who live here in our country. I have organized the substructure to engage one and only one archetype. You will recognize it as the ouroboros, the snake biting its tail.”
Mayerson spun round and started talking with his psych specialists. He was clearly unclear as to what Leo’s actions would mean. Eventually, he turned back and said: “My team believe that what you have done is to set up a structured guarantee that anyone launching an attack would be attacking themselves. Is that correct?”
“Your experts are to be congratulated. That is precisely what would happen.”
“So, if we launch an assault on you and you take no defensive maneuver, the attacker will be committing suicide.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you want us to attempt to kill you?”
“Of course not. I am simply saying that if any loyal soldier from your impressive armed forces were to try to kill me with merones, he would die the moment he launched the attack, and I would remain unscathed.”
A huge bull of a man in battledress pressed forward, pushing Mayerson aside. He was shouting but until he reached Mayerson’s microphone, we could not make out his words. Finally, we heard him scream: “you cannot take this girlie seriously. He dresses in a frock and thinks he can outbluff a soldier. This joker knows damn well that I have an advanced merone contingent surrounding his venue. Now he believes that he can scare us into downing our weapon. But my men on the ground need do nothing as I can launch he fastest merone ever constructed straight at the back of his head, right now.”
The tiny, handheld control was slammed onto the table, as if the man believed he had won a high money round of poker. The launch button was banged down and a zip sound screeched through the room.
The era of the Autocrats ended with General Trumpington Water’s decapitation.
