Chapter 7 – Part 3, Cleavage Point

This is chapter 7, part 3 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.

Chapter 7 – Part 3, Cleavage Point

María was my life, but not my whole existence. I spent 8-9 hours each week day at an engineering contract job where they expected the miracles I had promised them. My job pitch had been ‘give me your hardest problem, the problem that’s intractable, that no one has been able to solve. If I don’t fix it in a reasonable time, I’ll fire myself.’

My current problem made me doubt myself. The logic of the software appeared impeccable, yet it failed erratically at crucial times. My experience with intractable problems was they always had a faulty base; their architecture was defective, and therefore no amount of patching could ever fix it. Therefore, you had to ignore the symptoms and focus on the base.

As usual, I enlisted Bunk from my gray-matter as my sounding board as I talked myself through the analysis of the software, hardware and communication links. Since my colleagues couldn’t see Bunk, they thought I talked to myself, but I was tolerated because I fixed their nasty problems.

I glanced at my watch and saw I had again missed my lunch-time check-up call to Nanny. My internal clock never synced-up with my external duties … the clock – my clock – out of sync …

I looked again at my diagrams, at the hardware and comm links, pulled out the hardware manuals and, voila! The hardware and comm links were all in different time domains. I diagrammed the software logic against the hardware time domains, and the time-frame jitter jumped out at me. The software always did exactly the right activity, but occasionally at the wrong time. The software architecture was based on a logical series of activities instead of based on time. We needed a hard real-time system.

I paced the room visualizing the time-based architecture, writing diagrams on the white boards and talking them through with Bunk. I glanced at a tittering at the door, and saw I had a gathering of programmers watching, smiling at each other as I talked to myself in Spanish. I invited them in and thought out load as I worked through the design. After a while, I realized they had no idea what I talked about and I sent them out to bring in the senior hardware system engineer, the project manager, and the senior programmers. Only the hardware guy seemed to get the idea, and I explained it again while the others drifted away. I heard the designer of the existing system say, “It will never work, he’s out of his mind if he thinks we’re going to redo this software.” I told the hardware guy the simple shift from algorithmic logic to time-logic cracked open the problem with absolute clarity, and all the pieces fell exactly into place.

The senior hardware system engineer was Jewish, his parents in the jewelry business in NYC, and he said, “Just like cutting a rough diamond.”

I replied, “Yes, you find and tap the cleavage point, and all the pieces separate perfectly. Why don’t you diagram your bus clocks against my diagrams and we’ll work out the optimum time domain bridge for each …”

My mind space-shifted into another dimension, María’s reign. Josey chanted, ‘cleavage point, cleavage point’; Bunk shrieked at me, “Don’t listen to her, she doesn’t understand anything, she’s just a woman.”

Just a woman, the vulva, liberty – the cleavage point was liberty. Tap lightly, and the entire edifice of the world’s systems cascaded down around me, separating perfectly into two piles with absolute clarity:

liberty vs. slavery;
community vs. collectivism;
voluntary association vs. coercive democracy;
sound money vs. fiat money, inflation & deflation;
local charity vs. coercive redistribution;
precise solutions vs. government friction;
free markets vs. central management;
and so on and on and on.

Without effort, my mind sieved through the spectrum of human and societal relationships. There was no ambiguity: liberty, the vulva, or slavery, the penis.

* * *

Puta madre, que chingados fue este olor!“, as I jerked upright in the company infirmary. Smelling salts. The RN said I had collapsed on my office floor. She did a bunch of tests, eye movements, reaction times, etc. and said I seemed fine, and let me go.

I returned to my office, the hardware guy was still there, writing on my white boards in a frenzy, haranguing a group of hardware engineers, “Yes, it works, this is perfect. And we’ll be able to speed up the process by about 40%, it’s genius!”

“Ok, now get out of my office, I have real work to do.”

I closed the door, closed my eyes, leaned back in my chair. I ran through all the contested issues: who will build the roads? National defense? Education? Medical care? Poverty? These were all symptoms, caused directly or indirectly by the violent architecture of societies.

I began visualizing a society based on liberty. After a couple of hours, I called in the Preacher and dumped it all on him in a 25 minute rant. He said he didn’t follow the logic but got the general concept. I asked, “Is this a utopia?”

The Preacher said, “No, it’s not a utopia. It’s never been tried, but I think it’d be more work than any one could imagine. Imagine being in control of your own life and community! The fantasy utopia is any of dozens of collectivisms, like the welfare state and socialism, where you’re promised you’ll be taken care of by the government gods, and everything will be free, paid for by someone else.

“All incentives are corrupted – the fierce competition to create new wealth and satisfy the needs of the people with products and services they are eager to pay for is despised. Instead, people focus their energies on getting political favors. That utopia is, in reality, a dog-eat-dog world where looters fight fiercely among themselves for an ever bigger share of the wealth stolen from the creators of the wealth. The looters distribute the stolen wealth to their cronies, buying votes to increase their looting power. Except for the biggest dogs, that utopia is the slave life controlled by others through violence and coercion.”

There it is, absolute clarity: liberty, the female, or violence, the male. The architecture of human society is defective – it is based on violence and coercion. That’s why our social problems are intractable, can never be solved with any amount of patching, and get progressively worse over time. I asked the Preacher to loan me those books again, the ones by Bastiat, Hayek, Mises and others, but from the little I had already read, they seemed to be missing something fundamental: the woman.

I wound back through time, through my paltry knowledge of history. The first task of every collective, tribe, religion, or government in all recorded history has always been to seize the instruments of violence and coercion: weapons of all types, testosterone hardware, and then use those instruments of violence to ‘legalize’ their exclusive use of violence on their neighbors. And on the barbarians, infidels, apostates, sub-human colored races, everyone except their own kind, and on all women.

With exclusive control of violence, the second task is the suppression of women physically, sexually, and psychologically, converting women into sub-humans, sex toys to bounce on the heads of penises. Or failing their repression, convert them into penis-women to propagate the same penis systems that enslaves them. Liberty must be crushed at the source, and the source is woman.

The third task of collectivists is to legalize property theft. History is unanimous about people’s resistance to paying taxes. However poor or rich, of whatever class, race or gender, people have evaded taxes and hated tax collectors. This is not greed, as presented by the collectivists, but rather simple, intuitive acknowledgment that taxes are theft by violence and coercion of private property, of their life’s labor. The enslavement of your physical body is replaced by economic slavery. The collectivists need your property to pay for their exploitation of you and for their violence inflicted on the rest of the world.

Then, the educational systems must become brain-washing chambers, reinforcing and glorifying the penis systems. Religious systems must be perverted, co-opting and corrupting the gods to the service of the penis.

Money must be corrupted, structured not on real wealth, but on debt with built-in inflation to transfer the people’s wealth to the debtors and exploiters. What they can steal from the people in taxes is never enough to pay for their perch of power.

And in penis-systems, even feminism makes perfect sense. Feminism is not ‘women’s liberation’ but ‘women’s equalization’. Women acheiving their full and natural liberty means liberating men equally and removing their coercive power, allowing the natural shift of society’s oversight to women – this will never do! No, uppity women must be made equal to men, evil, violent and coercive – penis-women! So feminism has become an essential tool in the propagation of the penis-systems. Of course, men don’t like the extra competition for power, but they begrudging tolerate it as a cheap price paid to preserve those priceless vaginae molded around their penises.

And on and on, down through every relationship of society, even into the sexual relationships between individuals.

All power politics are sexual politics, and the natural role and primacy of the woman must be repressed. The violent architecture of society is sacred, cannot be questioned. All the strife among political philosophies and parties are variations on who are the masters, who are the slaves, and how deeply can the masters exploit the slaves before they blow-back violently.

And to achieve this is so easy – no conspiracy is needed, no gathering of Masons nor Jews, nor bishops nor arms dealers nor generals nor prime ministers. All that is needed is to make the architecture of society defective, a structure based on violence instead of liberty. All the other evils flow down naturally, tempered only by the possible violent counter-rage of the people when their rape and pillage can no longer be borne.

And to protect their privilege and stolen wealth, the masters are willing to fight to the death. Our death, not theirs – it will be easy, they’ve granted themselves the exclusive use of violence.

I slept in my chair, at peace, knowing I had resolved the fundamental problem of human society, knowing it meant nothing and changed nothing. I was an ordinary guy, nobody cared what I thought. Who knows how many other people had resolved this issue by similar means, but when faced with the leviathan of violence poised to crush them, went their own way, fixing themselves while humanity festered. And I had always been a coward.

But I was content; I finally had a clue about the most important object in my world – that extraordinary fountain of female, of liberty, the vulva, my María. Of course, she wasn’t really mine. I couldn’t grant María her inherent liberty, it had always been hers and she had rebuffed my attempts to control her years ago. But now I understood she was my guide, my mentor in life, my superior. I had to internalize that, to stop letting my emotions and penis-culture hang-ups cause conflicts between us. María had given me my liberty, but I always blew it with self-destructive penis behavior.

My destiny was clear, I would focus on pleasing María. I thought about her with DeepThroat, the Pol, Drew, and the Photog, felt again those same twinges of loss, the knives cutting into my genitals. How incredible lucky I was after all she did with them, she still returned each time to me. The christian bible said of María, “Blessed art thou among women …”; Yes, and I was doubly blessed among men.

End of book content.

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