Chapter 1
I’m Edward, Edward Lock, that’s a pseudonym – or as Tassy Beaumont would say, it’s a nom-de-thingy. I have to keep my identity secret because I chronicle an absurd world. If my true identity was discovered …well let’s just say, there are dark forces abroad that would like to make me believe that the absurd world I chronicle is just a figment of my imagination.
There is a place near Margate known as The Village where people like me are taken for re-education. The Village is somewhere in 1973.If I were ever caught, I would be subjected to the most inhumane torture imaginable – it wouldn’t even enter the heads of my captors to attempt humane torture. They wouldn’t even start with humane torture, not even to soften me up. No, no, no, these people are sadists who take masochistic delight at inflicting pain and humiliation.
My sources tell me, and I quiver like a jellyfish on a pogo stick just thinking about it, of men being forced to wear 1970’s corduroy flares and floral shirts and eat prawn cocktails and cheese fondue while listening to the Village People on a loop.
Women fare no better in The Village. If you are of a sensitive disposition close your eyes now. I know a woman – Myrtle Pissenteke – we were good friends once, until her re-education - who was forced to dress in a psychedelic, micro-mini-skirt. It was worse than micro, it was no show. It pushed the boundaries of modesty and decency, and then…then…it was paired with go-go boots and the boundaries were breached.
It got worse for Myrty. She was forced to listen to Demis Rousos recordings while eating baked Alaska. It took just seven days to break her.
Before her re-education, Myrty wrote a satirical blog debunking extreme, unorthodox, mystical health fads. Her blog was called Chicken Soup for the Liver, and she wrote under the name of Heparius Quill.
She now writes a blog called The Poop-Shute Rejects using the name Angelica Bottomley. Her latest blog extols the benefits of colonic tuning forks as a prophylactic against constipation.
That is why my true identity must remain a secret.
So, what is it that I write about that could lead to my re-education in The Village. As I said above, I chronicle an absurd world. Not everyone sees the world as I see it. Some of you will come to see it as I do, or as I prefer to say, you’ll come to see the world as it really is.
Philosophers have written for centuries about what is real and what is appearance. Millions of words have been used to get nowhere about what the colour red really is. My work is very tenuously related to this metaphysical rabbit hole. But there is a difference. What I try to do is suggest that if you see red it might be because someone, some organisation wants you to see red.
Question your perceptions, always.
I had dinner with a friend of mine recently. He writes in the same vein as I do. He specialises in debunking the myth of government debt. The extremes of the argument about Government debt are that it is harmless or a threat to our existence.
But Government debt has existed for centuries. Probably for as long as we’ve had Governments. It will probably always exist. It’s a constant in our lives, like poor service in restaurant and offshore call centres.
And that gives economists, journalists, and others something to write about, and talk about. So, the truth about Government debt is that it’s a Government job creation scheme.
Anyway, my friend, whose name I can’t reveal, obviously, asked me, rhetorically what is the difference between what we write about and a good conspiracy theory.
Although his question was rhetorical, I answered it anyway, and I’ll share my answer with you. The thing about a good conspiracy theory is that it just could be true. You don’t have to wear a tin foil hat in a fetching shade of silver to accept that a moon landing could be faked or that the condensation trails left by planes could have some nefarious design. They are good conspiracy theories.
On the other hand, the flat earth argument lacks a certain something - besides shape. You have to be well to the north of gullible even to come close to thinking this makes sense. That, in my opinion is a fairly poor conspiracy theory.
What I write about is a relative – probably a third cousin - of a good conspiracy theory. But here’s the difference. I can’t tell you directly what I want to tell you. I have to write a story. Make it entertaining, symbolic, allegorical, wrap it in an allusion.
Why? Why not just say, ’Dear reader, the moon landings never happened.” Because, quite simply, if I did, you’d never believe me. But dressed up in the right absurdist, genre mash, story you might just take notice. You’ll start to think. To question.
I’ve always felt I was a little different. It’s more than a feeling; I’ve always been a little different. Whatever I’ve done, or whenever I’ve wanted to do something, it’s never quite slotted into… well into a slot. Tassy would say, I’m a domino with red spots, or I’m someone who walks in the valleys of originality and on the peaks of non-conformity. So, my first novel, Soul Merge is a perfect slice of my personality.
Soul Merge is likely to be published later this year, 2025, probably November or December. It doesn’t fit neatly into any particular genre. It is most emphatically an absurdist genre mash. Think of it like this, Douglas Adams and Jasper Fforde meet at a party and strike up a conversation with Ian Fleming and Dennis Wheatley. The party is hosted by Raymond Chandler and Nora Ephron. Together they write a book. Some party. Some book.
I won’t say too much about Soul Merge so as not to spoil your enjoyment when you read it. Here is a very brief synopsis. Anastasia Beaumont is 24 and since the age of 13 she’s been convinced that she is the reincarnation of a Second World War French Resistance fighter named Anna de Beauchamp who died in the arms of her German Army officer lover, Karl Richter.
Tassy has been searching for the reincarnation of Karl for around five years. She meets Charles Blake, Doctor Charles Blake. More accurately, Tassy tracks him down. Charles was once an academic and now is a successful businessman and novelist. Tassy says he has a brain the size of a dinosaur’s lunch box.
Charles is rational, sceptical and empirical. A bit of an emotional desert. Fiercely loyal. He doesn’t dismiss the supernatural. Far from it. His constant refrain is that today’s magic has always been tomorrow’s science.
So how do I describe Tassy? It’s impossible. You have to meet her. You’ll have a chance to do that in these pages on Inkitt and in my novel. She’s an incurable romantic, and writes her own rom-com, where she, of course, is the heroine. She’s occasionally delusional, always flamboyant, often unpredictable, gorgeous, intuitive, dramatic and loyal. She lives her life like she’s a legend – and she may well be.
I’d better tell you two more things about Tassy. If I don’t, she surely will. Even if I do, she’ll tell you again. Tassy is a vegetarian and a hopelessly addicted smoker. She worships at the altar of Mistress Nicotina. Tassy is rewarded for her devotion when she smokes her little angels and experiences the ecstasy of Mistress Nicotina’s divine breath
Charles and Tassy along with Sam (Charles’s best friend), Nell (Tassy’s best friend) and Professor Evelyn Marwood have to battle the sinister Neo-Thule Society (NTS). The NTS is headed by the evil Otto von Voight, the dictator to the world elect.
Oh, I’ll just mention this, I don’t think it will spoil things for you. It turns out that Tassy is not the reincarnation of Anna De Beauchamp, a Second World War French Resistance fighter who died in the arms of Karl Richter, her German army officer lover.
It turns out that Tassy is in fact a 10th century Norse Goddess named Astrid, the sister of Freya. Not too much is known about Astrid. The Lore of Astrid seems to have been lost. We do know that she is The Goddess of enchantment. She enchants with her words and her movements. The problem is that Tassy can’t remember anything of the last 1000 years or so.
Charles is not Karl Richter. He is Tassy’s Protector. It seems they have met regularly through the ages, but neither of them recall these meetings. Charles is human but has preternatural abilities (according to Tassy he has Peter’s Natural abilities). Charles is synaesthetic. He can sense things in unusual ways. He may smell danger or see unease. This happens especially when Tassy is in trouble.
Charles also seems to have the ability to take on the abilities of famous literary characters. For example, he may drive a car like James Bond or solve a puzzle like Sherlock Holmes.
Marwood, whose speciality is psychology, has suggested that Charles’s extraordinary abilities may stem from his reading a lot of books. She has suggested that a couple of theories, flow theory and schema theory, might explain things. No-one is sure about this, but no one disagrees that Charles has at times demonstrate extraordinary abilities.
In my next post, I’ll introduce you to the characters in more detail. I know you’ll love them all. Then in future posts, you’ll get a lot from Tassy, especially her attempts to find Karl Richter. Before she tracked down Charles (like a naughty little detective in heels) she met a navel office, an army captain an academic, a vicar and a few others. The fun is about to start.
Stay curious. Stay absurd. The world isn’t what it seems — and that’s exactly the point.
