The year 2028. Mankind is in the stranglehold of a worldwide surveillance state. Frank Kohlhaas, a petty citizen, lives a cheerless life, working as an agency worker in a steel plant. One day, he gets into a conflict with the tyrannical system, because of an unfortunate accident. An automated trail convicts him to five years of imprisonment and Frank disappears in a detention centre, where he suffers under a cruel system of brainwashing and reeducation. After eight months of pain, the authorities decide to transfer him to another prison. On the way there, something unexpected happens. Suddenly everything changes and the young man finds himself caught between the fronts... "The Prey World novels count to the best books of dystopic literature which have been written by German authors in the last years!" (www.planet-scifi.eu) "Only a fool would think that "Prey World" is nothing but fiction!" (Alexander Merow)
Chapter 1 No.1
The year 2028. Mankind is in the stranglehold of a worldwide surveillance state. Frank Kohlhaas, a petty citizen, lives a cheerless life, working as an agency worker in a steel plant.
One day, he gets into a conflict with the tyrannical system, because of an unfortunate accident. An automated trail convicts him to five years of imprisonment and Frank disappears in a detention centre, where he suffers under a cruel system of brainwashing and reeducation.
After eight months of pain, the authorities decide to transfer him to another prison. On the way there, something unexpected happens. Suddenly everything changes and the young man finds himself caught between the fronts...
Foreword
This is the English version of the first book of Alexander Merow`s "Prey World" series. The novel was translated by Thorsten Weber – and the whole procedure entailed a lot of work. But it was also really funny.
It is not a professional translation and the translator is not a "native speaker" or English teacher. He is just a guy who loves science-fiction and dystopias. So try not to laugh at some of the translated phrases, or the wrath of a real freak will come over you!
Nevertheless, we thought that would be a good idea to translate this interesting, courageous and critical novel into the English language. At the same time it will also enable English speaking people to join Alexander Merow`s growing audience.
"Prey World" is neither an ordinary book nor light entertainment. There is already plenty of "light entertainment" in our times – far too much. On the other hand, there are not enough books like "Prey World". Books that make you think about the world we live in. And it is important that people begin to think.
The author has already found numerous interested readers all over Germany, and we hope, he will find additional readers in the English-speaking countries. We would also be glad, if a "real" mother-tongue speaker were to edit this English version one day.
Some readers compare "Prey World" with George Orwell`s "1984", the classic among the dystopic novels. Others see elements of Bradbury`s "Fahrenheit 451" in it.
However, critical thinkers and friends of so called "conspiracy theories" will have their fun with "Prey World". Is Alexander Merow`s vision of the future really realistic at all? A worldwide surveillance state? A World Government under the control of a ruthless secret society? We will see!
And always remember...
"Only a fool would think that "Prey World" is nothing but fiction!" (Alexander Merow)
Have fun!
Alexander Merow and Thorsten Weber, Berlin 2011
E-mail: A.Merow@gmx.de
"Maybe it is nothing but madness and suicide. Maybe it will not change the world, but this is not important for me. Nevertheless, it will change something for me!
I have suffered too much to humble myself anymore. They have told us to humble ourselves - since the kindergarten. Shut up! Consume! Obey! Endure! Believe everything! Watch shit! Buy shit! Eat shit! Turn the other cheek!
What has become of us? Why have we become sheep? Why do we endure this all without doing something? Why has nobody the guts to act?
Thorsten`s books were a real eye-opener to me! Now, I know who they are and what they plan for us all. And I can`t forget what they have done to me. They call us "cattle". Okay, then I will be the black sheep in the flock. And the black sheep will fight back now! And it does not fear the butcher anymore, because even a butcher can be killed. Franky, the little black sheep, will make them pay now! And I hope that the flock of white sheep will wake up some day."
P.S.: If I don`t come back, please give this book to Julia...
Diary entry of Frank Kohlhaas, 17.02.2029
Citizen 1-564398B-278843
Frank Kohlhaas, who was called citizen 1-564398B-278843 in his everyday life, because this was his official administrative code, was already dreaming of the unpleasant smell in the hall of his flat, reminding him of rotten eggs. In his mind, shortly before 5.00 o'clock in the morning – soon the dream would be terminated by the alarm – Frank was on a walk through a sunny valley. But even at this beautiful place, the moldy smell was still pervasive, so that Frank wondered, how such a beautiful valley could smell so repulsive.
When the alarm-clock rang, it quickly became clear that the sunny valley was just fantasy, although the smell was real. The noise was shrill and Frank awoke swearing. Now he had to get up, put on his clothes, have a hasty breakfast and walk to the production complex 42-B.
?Damn!", hissed the unshaven man as he moved his not excessively tall, but amazingly strong body from his cheaply produced bed.
?Hmmmhaaa!", yawned Frank, shuffling through his still dark apartment to the next room, where a dirty kitchen was waiting for him. The citizen tore open the refrigerator door and chocked down a cheese sandwich, the meager left-overs from yesterday`s supper.
The water kettle was started with a loud whoosh and, after a few minustes, supplied hot water for a cup of instant coffee.
?Nnnhhaa!", uttered the young man, a statement, that could be interpreted in many ways at this early hour, and could have referred to his life situation in general. At 5.27 o'clock, Frank closed the battered door behind himself and walked listlessly down the dark corridor on his way to descend the even darker stairway. The source of that foul stench, that had been torturing Frank`s nose for days, was somewhere here. Perhaps one of the other tenants, damn idiot, had left his garbage in the corridor.
?I don`t know...", he muttered.
Each morning it was the same old story: ?Rising, eating, walking, slogging away...", as Kohlhaas always said.
In the past years, he had learned to hate his life. He was 25 years old now, living in a more than shabby flat on the outskirts of the former FRG capital, Berlin, working for modest wages as a temporary help in a steel plant. In former times, he had wanted to study, but this issue was over - for reasons that Frank never mentioned.
Actually, he was not dumb, but, according to his own words, he couldn`t hack it yet. However, the job at the steel plant was better than nothing, because it gave him the chance to earn some money and to survive – an advantage that was not enjoyed by millions of Germans in the year 2027.
As he now groped along again on this particular morning, step by step towards the plant, he passed demolished houses in the twilight and crowds of homeless people lying in masses in the dark corners of the streets.
?What would be, if I simply didn`t care about the consequences and went home again, got back into my bed and just slept until tomorrow?", he thought sometimes.
?What would it be like if I just packed my bags and disappeared from this rotten city, this scruffy country?", he asked himself occasionally.
But where was it any different? He should enjoy, what he had – he`d got a job and didn`t go hungry. That was at least something, thought Frank.
After the worker had gone through a very long and dark underpass without giving a Globe coin to the drunken beggar there, the production complex came into Frank`s vision. It was 5.53 in the morning and the workers for the early shift stood there waiting, smoking, jawing.
When the factory gates finally opened at 6 o'clock, about 200 workers poured through them like a viscous mash. Most of them were not in any rush to begin their work, but it had to be, there was no other way.
"No alternative!", as Frank always said.
After ten hours, they went back home again. All were dirty and tired, but happy that the work was over for the day. Frank crept through the corridor on his floor, which was still dim even by day, and unlocked the door of his apartment.
There were no new messages on the Scanchip and that was good, because it were usually only calculations: electricity, water and such things. Frank had placed the television in his bedroom the day before, so if he couldn`t fall asleep, he could turn it on. The program did not interest him, but with the sound of anyone talking, he didn`t feel so alone in this dark block of flats.
Kohlhaas just knew his neighbours from brief encounters. Many of them only left their apartments to go to work and some of them had become serious boozers in recent years. From time to time someone would bawl from his balcony or accosted people, passing "his block" – but after a while, everyone was sleeping.
Citizen 1-564398B-278843 watched television till 22.37 o`clock: the news (?War of the global armed forces against dangerous terrorists in Iran"), talk shows, easy entertainment on all fronts, warnings of the second dog flu epidemic and the necessity for the immediate compulsory inoculation. Then he fell asleep, although meanwhile the foul smell from outside seemed to have lodged itself in his pillow....
Next day...
?Good morning, Frank!", muttered Dirk Weber, one of the foremen. ?Good morning, Dirk!", answered Frank listlessly. It was 6.03 o'clock, the morning shift began. A-341, this was the designation of the young man as worker and temporary help in the steel plant, gave his helping hands for many operational steps till the clock indicated 10.30.
Now it was time for a short lunch, and when Frank unwraped his only bun which was covered with a piece of salami, he did not suspect, that an unpleasant stroke of fate would wait for him in the following minutes.
Since approximately half a year, the production complex` administration had arranged the singing of the "One-World-Song", due to a new international regulation, before every lunch time in each production complex - for the increase of work moral and to strengthen the international doctrine of ?peace, freedom, prosperity and equality" that was propagated by the World Government since 2018. The official of the "Ministry for Production Supervision", stationed in this enterprise, Mr. Gert Sasse, who was mostly in his office above the factory building, had conscientiously come down to the workers to sing the "One-World-Song" with them. It was always the same.
?Workers, now is lunch time! But we will sing first!", he shouted through the hall and the steel workers formed to a bored line, in order to enjoy the short break after the singing:
"We are the children of One-World and we are all equal!
We love our One-World, the great realm of peace!
We don`t know any classes, we don`t know any races..."
Frank heard ever more rarely on the text in the last weeks, didn`t move his lips and stared at the ceiling of the dirty production hall. ?Hurry up!", he thought and boredly scraped with his left foot over the dusty ground. Then the singing was over.
Chapter 1 No.1
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Chapter 2 No.2
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Chapter 3 No.3
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Chapter 4 No.4
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Chapter 5 No.5
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Chapter 6 No.6
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Chapter 7 No.7
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Chapter 8 No.8
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Chapter 9 No.9
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Chapter 10 No.10
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Chapter 11 No.11
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Chapter 12 No.12
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Chapter 13 No.13
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Chapter 14 No.14
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Chapter 15 No.15
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Chapter 16 No.16
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Chapter 17 No.17
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Chapter 18 No.18
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Chapter 19 No.19
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Chapter 20 No.20
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Chapter 21 No.21
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Chapter 22 No.22
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Chapter 23 No.23
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Chapter 24 No.24
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Chapter 25 No.25
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Chapter 26 No.26
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Chapter 27 No.27
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Chapter 28 No.28
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Chapter 29 No.29
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Chapter 30 No.30
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Chapter 31 No.31
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Chapter 32 No.32
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Chapter 33 No.33
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Chapter 34 No.34
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Chapter 35 No.35
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Chapter 36 No.36
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Chapter 37 No.37
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Chapter 38 No.38
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Chapter 39 No.39
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Chapter 40 No.40
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