I'll See You In Your Dreams (22 page)

“Please go on, I’m spellbound, I can’t fathom a single source,” said Sam.

“If you think about it, Sam, we all do it all the time. We do it now. We each have an idea, created in our own personal world of thought. We wish to share that thought, or more accurately, we wish to paint a picture, as any good artist desires. That picture we paint only has value if we can display it for another to view.”

“That makes total sense to me,” Sam said with interest.

“In the physical world, an artist has many mediums to create in: oil, watercolor, chalk, stone, and a myriad of other mediums, but in the world of ideas, there’s only one medium and that medium is, words.”

“Hmmm.” Sam considered Duke’s words.

“Well, how about art?” asked Sam.

“Good, Sam. That is why art is so valuable. It transcends words, but words and art share the most powerful attribute.”

“What’s that, Henry?” Sam was riveted.

“They’re symbols.”

“Symbols?”

“Yes, it’s obvious. A painting of a unicorn isn’t an actual unicorn, but a symbol of or replica of a mental painting or image created by the artist in the realm of his mind or thought realm.”

“I understand and I’m intrigued as to where this is headed.”

“Well, Sam, it should be obvious to everyone, but it certainly isn’t, that the world of thought or mind, or spiritual world, if you so choose to call it, is the real world.”

“You lost me there, Henry.”

The Duke smiled. “Sam, I have an exact replica of the Declaration of Independence in my library. Which do you feel is the real Declaration of Independence, the one in my library or the one in Washington D.C?”

“The one in Washington D.C., of course.”

“Why?” The Duke cocked an eyebrow.

“The one in your library is only a copy of the original.”

“So, you’re saying that an original is more real than a copy?” enquired the Duke.

Sam smiled. “Well both the original and copy are technically real, but, hmmmm, I believe one of the definitions of real implies not a copy or counterfeit, which, of course, is a copy of an original, so, yes, I’m saying an original is more real!”

The Duke picked up his wine glass and turned it, rolling it slightly between his fingers. “Do you consider this glass real?”

“Of course.”

“And yet it is a mere copy from a mold which itself is a mere copy of the original which resides in the mind of some artist somewhere who first envisioned this glass. That artist may at this moment be having dinner with his family with that original picture of this glass stored away in his mind.”

The Duke waved his hand around the room. “All this, you see, is but a copy in the physical world of creations that exist in the minds of artists. We just make copies or symbols of the
true
reality in the thought world.”

“You are quite a philosopher, Duke.”

“Henry,” the Duke corrected.

“Yes, sorry, Henry.”

“As a Duke with responsibilities for other people, I felt it was my duty to seek to understand those people so that I may better serve them. It was in that quest that philosophy became of paramount importance. In that study, I discovered the ultimate medium that was used to create, essentially, reality!”

“Words?”

“Exactly,  more specifically, the agreements that the words created.  A passage in the bible was what piqued my curiosity. It said, In the beginning was the word and the word was with God and the word was God. I thought that interesting.”

“God was a word?” Sam puzzled.

“That’s what the good book says.”

“I don’t quite grasp that,” said Sam.

“Well, imagine before the physical universe, there must have been only consciousness, and since there was nothing physical to be conscious of, then consciousness would be mathematically zero or nothing and yet potentially exist. Then one day someone says let there be light and there was light, or some such. As soon as someone created the first thing, it was off to the races in a new physical universe!”

“I’m afraid I will need considerable time to digest these concepts.”

The Duke threw his head back and laughed. “Yes, it is like the old childhood contemplations of where does space end?” His laugh subsided to a chuckle.

“Sam, the only reason I mention all this is to impress upon you the magnitude of danger created by Rockefeller, and his monopoly of pharmaceuticals and their addictive qualities. He’s amassing millions upon millions, and that will buy a lot of words!” 

“Huh? Buy a lot of words?”

“Think about it. Reality is just agreement. We agree this is a wine glass because of the words ‘wine glass,’ and good and bad becomes so by agreement. The ultimate thought brushes are words, and just like a paint brush, the value of the creation is in the display and the agreement it gathers. With Rockefeller’s endless money supply, his words will create the society’s future reality. He and his spawns are exceedingly dangerous to us all.”

“How so?” asked Sam.

“The oldest goal next to survival itself is to live as free people. There have been many methods and attempts to enslave the many by the few. Physical universe methods have been used for the most part. Threats of pain and death to force the many to serve the goals of the few have been utilized.  The ultimate enslaver will not be the war of the worlds, but the war of the mind.”

The Duke stood and walked over to the window. He peered out at the beautiful gardens while reflecting on the ideas permeating his mind. 

“Rockefeller is purchasing pharmaceutical companies and endowing psychiatry and various universities. That goes a long and clever way to enslave the masses into agreeing with his words alone. He will most assuredly eventually buy up newspapers and such as well.  In the end was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God, seems to be Rockefeller’s mantra. He who has the gold can buy the words to rule the world, or more accurately, the human mind, which creates the world we must live in. In his reality, he’s the one true God!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sam stood on the deck of the Oceanic, one of the largest passenger liners in the world. Her twelve steam boilers powered a single four cylinder steam engine, and her four masts carried sails. The Duke had arranged first class tickets, and Sam was grateful for the just over six days the trip would take. As he stood at the foredeck rails overlooking Liverpool Harbor, he tossed around in his mind all he had learned in England.

He certainly had been mentored by the best. The General and the Duke were certainly not only great strategists, but enlightened philosophers as well. They would each be doing all they could, using all their contacts to get truthful information into the right hands to expose Paul and Ludwig.

However, Sam was troubled, as he rummaged through his mind. He recalled his past, which was actually his future at this moment. It grew increasingly foggy with each passing day. He was concerned by his memories. In a bit over a hundred years from now the society would be inundated by drugs. Pharmaceutical companies would be earning more money than any industry on earth. Their strangle hold on the public perception and government was virtually total.

Sam remembered from his business and history classes that Rockefeller was almost worshiped by the population. He recalled some of the reports of an investigative reporter that got access to the Rockefeller archives. At first, Rockefeller was strongly despised, mainly because of his underhanded business dealings and techniques. Attempts were made to create virtual slavery in Ludlow and the Colorado Fuel and Iron Co. Rockefeller had refused to pay the miners American money, but paid them in Rockefeller script instead. That incident spawned the first strike, when miners stopped work and demanded to be paid in American money. Rockefeller responded by hiring Chicago henchmen to break the strike. They murdered thirteen of the miners’ women and children in the process. He bribed the railroads not to ship competitors’ oil and used various other underhanded techniques to sabotage competition and drive them out of business.

How did he get away with it and become known as a philanthropist? Rockefeller had a genius public relations man named Ivy Lee to thank for handling all such public relations faux pas. Ivy was also indebted to Rockefeller for making him the father of public relations. Ivy had proven his skill to Rockefeller back during the depression when he had approached him and stated bluntly, “I can make America love you!” This was a bold statement, as Rockefeller had just been elected ‘The most hated man in America’ in the press. No thanks to a book by Ida Tarbell, outlining the history of Standard Oil.

Rockefeller had replied, “What do I care if America loves me? I made seven million dollars yesterday.”

Ivy Lee replied, “That may be true, but, how much could you make if they loved and trusted you?”

Intrigued, Rockefeller invited Ivy to prove it. So Ivy Lee asked the old man to step outside on the sidewalk in front of his office building in Chicago and to bring a secretary. Ivy scribbled a few questions down and asked her to survey each mother at his signal. He, Rockefeller, and the secretary, stepped out on the sidewalk. Money was scarce, due to the depression. Ivy pulled out a roll of newly minted dimes. He poured them into the boney hand of the richest man in America. He stopped a child of about three years old, walking with his mother on the bustling sidewalk.

“Here, son, Mr. Rockefeller wants you to have this free dime.” The old man dutifully and carefully put the dime in the child’s hand. The child’s eyes lit up, and the mother’s lips curled into an approving smile.

Ivy signaled the secretary to ask the mother his two questions. “Do you know that’s John D. Rockefeller?”

“Oh, my lord, I thought that is what I heard him say,” the mother responded.

“What do you think of Mr. Rockefeller?” asked Ivy.

“Well, he certainly seems to love children. It’s obvious he’s a family man, seems like a wonderful gentleman.”

In just a matter of minutes he had a crowd of kids around and he had given out the ten dollar roll of dimes. Ivy and John D. stepped back inside into Rockefeller’s office. In a few minutes the secretary came in and handed Rockefeller the surveys. All were glowing acknowledgements of John D. Rockefeller’s goodness and esteem that these newly met mothers held him in.

Rockefeller sat behind his desk, and as he finished his last glowing report, he looked up at Ivy Lee. Ivy Lee held his gaze steady and said, “You just bought those mothers’ opinion for a dime.”

Rockefeller hired Ivy Lee on the spot and gave him an unlimited expense account to develop this new field of public relations. This, Rockefeller knew, was the future control of the masses, and he and his would be the controllers. Ivy Lee pretty well proved that well-crafted lies beat the truth any day, as would be confirmed by Ivy’s only competition, Edward Bernays.

Sam broke out into a small sweat as he began to realize that the future seemed to belong to Rockefeller, Paul, and Ludwig. They must have defeated the best efforts of the General and the Duke. The paradox puzzled Sam.

A sudden blast of the ship’s departure horn startled Sam out of his reverie. He looked down at the bustle on the wharf below. A crowd waved at their departing loved ones as the huge ship slowly cleaved itself from its moorings. Another blast and the massive liner, the Oceanic, expertly eased itself toward the open ocean and its destination, America.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Paul descended the stairs from his room, entered the study, and approached his father. “Father, perhaps you can help me?”

Judge Hawthorne looked up from the paper he was writing. He put down his pen and turned to face Paul. He moved his half-glasses to his forehead and rubbed his eyes.

“Sure, son, how may I help you?”

“Well, first I’d like to apologize for my anger yesterday. I was shocked to discover Anne, my almost fiancé, was involved with her groomsman. I guess I just lost control.”

“Understandable, son. Just let it go and cut your losses now. It is better to know now and avoid the financial mess a nasty divorce later would cause.”

“You’re right, as usual, father. By the way, I’m writing a paper on entrepreneurs and remembered the story you told me of one of your old law school buddies. I believe he started a detective agency?” 

“Of course, that was old Eddie Rucker. He teamed up with Allan Pinkerton to form the North Western Police Agency. It only lasted a year. Pinkerton joined with his brother and started the Pinkerton & Co. Detective Agency. Anyway, it is now the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.”

“Wow! The Pinkertons?” Paul feigned awe, but he was aware of the Pinkertons. However, he needed an inside, trustworthy contact, and flattering his father would get that for him.

The judge continued, “The Pinkertons indeed. Allan and his brother were certainly entrepreneurs. Although the agency has grown tremendously, it certainly has had its share of controversy. Using the detective agency for strikebreaking was a mistake, in my view. The pressure of that negative situation is probably what killed Robert Pinkerton. He should have hung on because Allan has returned the organization to its true purpose-finding out information. Now that has value.”