So I've been thinking of opening a facebook page, but I didn't want to create one solely to my novel, so I created one that worships me instead.
But I did create a page, which I named "Anarcho-capitalist literature" and if you'd like to see a fancy quote from an ancap/voluntaryist/libertarian thinker each day, linking the source literatue for you to always have something to read, go and hit the like button on that page.
Until then, heres a preview of Chapter IX:
Midsummer lived through darkness, and vowed to end it with his might.
saw plague spreading through his home, where there was no chance to cure the
ailment. No technology was accessible to them for that they lived a world that
could not sustain great expenses, where the collective owned the means of
production. If they ever tried to thrive, food began to disappear from the market
that used no price. Such was the nature of a system with no money involved. Not
knowing the losses they made, they wasted the scarce resources they owned, like
the time and energy of the fellow comrades, resources that could no longer supply
the most crucial demands.
the plague, the dying, pleading, praying shells that filled the squares
reminded him of nightmares, of nightmares that he wished, but could not
control. And his dreams reminded him of the truth, of the true and dreadful
nightmare that shown him how frail a resource is life, and how easy it is to
He saw child abuse from
first hand. For questioning what was sacred he faced closed a closed door from
the stormy, dark midnight. For standing up for what he deemed right screaming
threats filled the airwaves. For resisting commands he was beaten until he
obeyed, until he could not breathe from crying, until he had to beg for them to
stop, until he learnt where his place was, until his mind went numb from the
pain, and acted without control, until his soul was crushed to fine dust.
within all that violence, within all that pain and torture, the glimpse of hope
have touched him, hope that whispered that he could become someone who rules
this nightmare. Not now, not in time he could foresee, but a force existed, a
force could be wielded that would repel all the darkness, all the pain…
He saw rebellion and war,
war between those who created cash, and those who hated them for it. And as
chaos slowly ensued, the young Solaris departed from his homeland, following
the whispers of the old god, who promised him the freedom from the chains.
old god of the State.