Editor’s Note: this is a brief excerpt from Mike Lutin’s two-part article “The Capricorn Conspiracy, Chapter 2: The Fascist Manifesto” appearing in first issue of Hexagon, reprinted with permission. The first chapter was originally published in Vanity Fair magazine and can be read here. Mike can be reached via his website. -Matt
If I were the sort of person who had tirelessly devoted my time and effort to organizing my life in such a way that I was able to convince myself I was finally secure, I would naturally take steps to maintain that condition at all costs.
ANYBODY would, wouldn’t they?
Basing my efforts on such a premise, according to some people preposterous and fallacious, could have been a great mistake, but for the moment, let’s accept the fact that I am actually quite sane. What would I do, how would I best go about holding on to control of that security?
Naturally I would have already arranged my life in business and personal life in an orderly way, so that my resources would assure me a certain life style. I would know generally what to expect in my personal relationships. The maintenance of order would be my prime directive, and rightly so. Entropy, chaos and unforeseen, unreasonable shifts and changes would have to be factored in to life’s equation.We all have to expect some level of chaos in life. Machines run down, people catch colds, things come up. Isn’t that what adds spice to life? My love of order, however–ducks in a row, and rainy day awareness would eventually bring me to that blissful state of existing in a universe I had created around me of luxurious security.
If, however, I began to suspect that there might be a challenge to my preferred existence, I could decide to open up to the prospect of change, and look forward to a new adventure, one not of my own making.
I would need to learn how to respond to the appearance of suddenly unknown factors. I would be challenged to apply ingenuity, originality, and a level of spontaneous genius to be able to shift my focus and attitude toward an existence I had spend years creating.
Could be fun, refreshing. New experiences, a whole new, exciting paradigm. New game.
What a rush.
Many folks would think so.
Suppose, however, I didn’t see it that way. Suppose such a prospect threatened and frightened me. Suppose I wanted to keep things just the way they were. How then could I arrange my life in relation to work, family, assets, everything–so that the rhythms, patterns and status I had developed could continue uninterrupted? Suppose that goal began to consume me.
What would happen?
How would I go about it?
How could I gain complete control?
(c) copyright Michael Lutin. This material may not be copied, distributed, or sold in any form in existence now or in perpetuity without the permission in writing of the author or his representatives. All Rights Reserved.