The Art of Revolution is a prohibited book published by someone with an alias of "Elevans". Most of the samples are continuously burned, and spreading this literature work is counted as an enormous offense against the crown.
Despite that, fate differs from person to person. Maybe a guard, while confiscating the book, decides to read it. Maybe a criminal distributes it from time to time. Nobody knows the origin, but some say they are very attached to a member of The Syndicate.
Maybe you will find one someday, maybe not. Who knows.
Chapter One
Lost Time
Lost Time
It is feared that politics will "completely disappear from the world" not only by the totalitarian abolition of plurality but also by its dissolution into the glacial waters of Esshar's modern selfish calculation. The tendency to depoliticize the present monarchy gaining strength after its success in war confirms this fear. Public space is laminated between the pressures of economic horror and the lamentations of abstract moralism. This depletion of politics and its attributes pervades the jargon of this putrid society. Beyond the effects of the conjuncture, once the military metamorphoses into the true oppressive force they are and the people's unrest show the ill-treatment of the plebs, it is exactly a malaise and a crisis in the current system.
The modern cult of progress is based more on a culture of time and future than of space. Reduced to a secondary role, space is synonymous to death and immobility. It is no longer known about the poor man's treatment, where he lives, what he does. The bourgeoisie isolates itself in a den of greed and spending, as rotten as they can be. This cult opposed the creative capacity of living time. The stimulating feeling of speed that goes beyond the performance of techniques has its secret: the demonic rotations of capital continually revolutionizes the conditions of its valorization. This vertigo of acceleration compresses time in the moment and erases the locality in the expansion of spaces, highlighting the lack of importance of the true citizen who carries the city on his back. Culture, diversity, morality? No time for that.
If speed makes wealth, the man who spins faster than his own shadow is destined for a beautiful fortune. But this never explains what a miracle leads the mercantile circulation to turn nothing into gold and to turn names into productive activity. The fastest bourgeois of the kingdom surpassed the sound barrier. It will not take long for him to reach its maximum speed before hitting a wall with all the momentum created, if the people scream their wishes.
If speed makes wealth, why? Why can they hoard incommensurable amounts of gold simply by being born inside a family of aristocrats while the working class starves while society creates criminals simply because they can't properly distribute the capital? The fallacy that a citizen can ascend births a false sense of meritocracy in cases exalted by the media representations of journals that support this rotten queen.
A true contradiction between the geographical mobility of capital (such as money and merchandise) and the relative immobility of labor appears, in this age of absolute monarchy, as the uneven and combined development of spaces and social times. This hierarchical organization of territories and the increasing importance of flow control (trade, money, information or raw materials) outline a strong order that reigns over a patchwork of the weakest. Now political action has its own places and rhythms, capable of alienating a portion of population that feels represented by receiving mere crumbs while making whole bread.
But this act of removing the politics from the people is what reduces us to mere unthinking heads. Every act is political - from buying food to respecting your father. From dancing to having sexual relations. They are removing our voices, and Ostara is currently in shambles. Social shambles. This city can be emancipated, but it will take time. I urge you to spread the knowledge inside this book - this way, we, the people, will grow as a singular force capable of eliminating they from above who neglect our cause.
The modern cult of progress is based more on a culture of time and future than of space. Reduced to a secondary role, space is synonymous to death and immobility. It is no longer known about the poor man's treatment, where he lives, what he does. The bourgeoisie isolates itself in a den of greed and spending, as rotten as they can be. This cult opposed the creative capacity of living time. The stimulating feeling of speed that goes beyond the performance of techniques has its secret: the demonic rotations of capital continually revolutionizes the conditions of its valorization. This vertigo of acceleration compresses time in the moment and erases the locality in the expansion of spaces, highlighting the lack of importance of the true citizen who carries the city on his back. Culture, diversity, morality? No time for that.
If speed makes wealth, the man who spins faster than his own shadow is destined for a beautiful fortune. But this never explains what a miracle leads the mercantile circulation to turn nothing into gold and to turn names into productive activity. The fastest bourgeois of the kingdom surpassed the sound barrier. It will not take long for him to reach its maximum speed before hitting a wall with all the momentum created, if the people scream their wishes.
If speed makes wealth, why? Why can they hoard incommensurable amounts of gold simply by being born inside a family of aristocrats while the working class starves while society creates criminals simply because they can't properly distribute the capital? The fallacy that a citizen can ascend births a false sense of meritocracy in cases exalted by the media representations of journals that support this rotten queen.
A true contradiction between the geographical mobility of capital (such as money and merchandise) and the relative immobility of labor appears, in this age of absolute monarchy, as the uneven and combined development of spaces and social times. This hierarchical organization of territories and the increasing importance of flow control (trade, money, information or raw materials) outline a strong order that reigns over a patchwork of the weakest. Now political action has its own places and rhythms, capable of alienating a portion of population that feels represented by receiving mere crumbs while making whole bread.
But this act of removing the politics from the people is what reduces us to mere unthinking heads. Every act is political - from buying food to respecting your father. From dancing to having sexual relations. They are removing our voices, and Ostara is currently in shambles. Social shambles. This city can be emancipated, but it will take time. I urge you to spread the knowledge inside this book - this way, we, the people, will grow as a singular force capable of eliminating they from above who neglect our cause.