Agape: In Search of Universal Love
from the novel, The Lodging for the Rose
Rolf. A. F. Witzsche

Story 3a - Here Begins a New World.
page 232

      She added that this comparison is actually a naive and simplistic view, because it doesn't consider that the physical economy also carries a huge debt burden by which its effective profit has long ago became a negative sum. She asked me if I had been aware that the USA, all by itself, carried a debt load of over forty trillion dollars before the whole system collapsed, which was four times greater than the entire economic product of the nation at its best period. No one ever considered the fact that this debt could never be repaid. "But is all back on the books again," she added. She said that all of the bonds that were floating around in the portfolios of those who deemed themselves wealthy, were essentially worthless, and still are worthless, and will forever be that. Their only effect was, that they had strangled the still functioning economy, and this didn't go on for long, either.
      "In this case, all the financial values should have been considered as infinitely inflated, since they existed as a claim against an economy that cannot even hold its own, that was constantly shrinking instead of creating a net gain profit for society. This means that the entire value system had to collapse, Peter, since it was already dead in real terms."
      She told me that she had to get out of this insanely anti-human system that she became employed in.
      "I still wonder how I managed to be a part of it for an entire month," she added at one point.
      She said that she couldn't face the realization that some day countless dads would have to bring their family together and explain that their house, which had been used as collateral to buy stocks, had been gambled away. Then, the children would ask their dad why he has given their home away which the family had skimped for, for twenty years or more? Erica told me that she decided she couldn't be associated with such an industry anymore that pushes such terrible things onto people.

      She told me that she got her next job in a bank. "Except, working there was worse. Not only was the paycheck smaller, but the financial gambling mania was more intense." She said that she found out very quickly that most of the banks were exposed in financial derivatives gambling to the tune of 30-70 times their own equity, and 7-10 times the amount of their depositor's money. She said that she also found out that the yearly turnover of these gambling contracts had reached beyond the one quatrillion mark and was still rising. She pointed out that the funding for this huge gambling mania had been stolen from the world of human living. She said that the social impact of this insane casino style financial gambling was so great, that her conscience wouldn't allow herself to be a part of it.
      "I am a grocery clerk now," she said and smiled.
      "Oh, what a waste of a great talent," I commented.
      "No, Peter, I love it," she said. "At least I am doing something that doesn't destroy people's future, that even helps a little bit. I am selling them food. Also, I am married to the owner of the store."
      "Oh, I thought you said your husband was a scientist like yourself," I replied, astonished.
      "That was a long time ago," she grinned. "Fritz left me shortly after I met you at the beach, but not because of it. He had already become intolerable by then."
      I didn't know what to answer. I apologized, but she wouldn't hear of it. She repeated that it hadn't been my fault, but added that I had merely caused her to finally wake up to reality. She repeated what she had said twelve years earlier, that Fritz didn't want a wife at all, that he wanted a sex slave, a status symbol, a trophy, and of course a play thing that he could amuse himself with.
      "This play thing wasn't me," she said, "and I told him that one day. That's when he simply moved out and never came back. He probably found somebody else who would play that role for him."

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 (c) Copyright 1998 - Rolf Witzsche
Published by Cygni Communications Ltd. North Vancouver, Canada