Chapters 1, 2, 3 And 25, In English Translation .
Chapters 1, 2, 3 and 25, in EnglishTranslation : Stephanie PolettiContact info:Caroline Bokanowski - Éditions des Équateurscarolinequateurs@orange.fr 33 1 43 25 62 88 - 33 6 85 65 79 75@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle1
Chapter OneThe stench from the sewers mingles with the smell of dieseland cooking fat. The May sunshine blazes down on the asphaltof Madison Ave. McDonalds and Texaco: the worldwide smell. edule. I try to get interested in the windows of the luxurystores. All I see is me, an angular face, a mere product ofthe global meritocracy. Sleek frames have replaced 99 millions I’ve made or the confidence I’ve gained, I look likea nerd in a body re shaped by Slow Burn, the lastest gymroutine that sculpts Manhattan’s finest.Working girls in gray suits march along the sidewalk. dasports bag in the other, they are post capitalism’s warriors.And you can’t miss Gisele Bündchen. The Brazilian top-model retmegastore, or more precisely, her bare back is. A tiny lelingerie. In 1999, a few days before its IPO, the brand boughtseveral pages in the Wall Street Journal. Gisele was lying onher stomach, two angel wings floating above her slim, goldenshoulders. On the day of the IPO, she came in person to WallStreet. With her long-fingered hand, she rang the Wall Streetbell. On the floor, traders were howling like wolves. Beatingall records,the stock quicklybecamethe darlingof WallStreet. Thanks to Photoshop, the legs of one of the most paidgirls on the planet have become the Dow Jones’ best friends.Sex rules the world, drives the markets crazy. The opulence ofthe West hangs by the thread of a G-string.@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle2
I have an appointment with Mrs Krudson. She must be at leasteighty years’ old. She could have been one of those East SideLadies that sip tea at five o’clock out of English porcelaincup while showing photos of their grand-children. Yes, shecould have been one of those. Yet I feel like I am about to goten rounds with Mike metraders ensconced in fake leather armchairs. They hide behindthe Wall Street Journal. Jobless, they now haunt the City. Itis spring 2009. Manhattan has been devastated by the subprimecrisis. A woman in a rabbit skin jacket and ten centimeterstiletto heels yells into her earphone: “Buy! Buy! Buy!” Aboutto crack, she frenetically empties five sachets of artificialsweetener into her nine dollar Cinnamon Dolce Latte with SugarFree Syrup. A woman in tattered clothes waits in line beforeme. Her odor, a mixture of stale tobacco and sweat, kills lothes, she is carrying heavy worn-out Macy’s brown bags. Atthe counter, she lowers her eyes and asks for a glass ofwater. The other clients stop to take in the scene. The waiterhands her a paper cup. In his Bronx accent and revealing omeless woman sits down at a table tucked away in a hermisshapen skirts. Behind her, the slogan of the oredwall:“Thanks to you, we are not only making great coffee. We aremaking a better planet.”* She takes a used free newspaper out,scans the small ads: wedding dresses and family jewelry arefor sale by the bucket load. The other clients forget nsociety. The crisis is here to stay. The waiter adjusts thehair net on his greasy hair. Beneath the counter, he switches@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle3
ompilation on: All you need is love. The soundtrack of sugarsubstitute America.I walk west up on 84th street towards Central Park. I ingmagnolias. Further on, inside the park, sitting on its miniartificial ice floe, a bored polar bear moans for some kidswho are throwing him M&Ms. What does MrsKrudson want fromme, a trader with an impeccable reputation? Tay would bring meback to earth, back to real life. Real life? From the plane, Ihave tried to text her: “Up in the sky, the sun shines illiterate prostitute: is that all that is left of love at atime of peak oil?1030 Fifth Avenue is a large Victorian building. A doorman intails opens the glass door lined with French wrought iron, lack hair pats me down a little too thoroughly. Her powerfuland well-rounded muscles bulge under her beige suit pants. Shecould actually have been part of General Gaddafi’s securitysquad. She talks to her wrist watch, waits for rivateelevator.Five deep breathslater,the doors open onto a dimly-lit,three thousand square feet big room. My eyes adjust. The teen identical white Siamese cats – for the exact number@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle4
of ex-husbands -Mrs Krudson is sitting at a long, glasstable at the back of the room.“Come in”, she grumbles from her chair.I take a few steps forward. A series of photographs hang onthe wall behind her: successive American presidents kissingher hand. I can’t help but notice the amused look about her, alittle repetitive, one mandate after another, from Eisenhowerto Obama. All kissing her hand to say thank you: every futurePresident has been to the annual Bilderberg meeting held a fewmonths before the elections. Every four years, history repeatsitself: without enthronement or consecration from the hasalways stayed in the background. Publicly, David Rockefeller2claims paternity of the organization. She made the rules ess,military and media West elites). She set the agenda: to sortout the world’s problems, considered far too complex to beleft in the hands of diplomats.Madame Krudson raises her eyes from her book, annotated with afountain pen: The History of the Decline and Fall of the RomanEmpire by Gibbon.“Do you know the lessons of History?”she demands.1According to D. Estulin, in ., Bill Clinton was a mere unknown governor from Arkansas until hisparticipation to the Bilderberg conference in 1991 in Baden-Baden, eighteen months before the presidentialelection.2Honorary President of the Council on Foreign Relations, of the Trilateral Commission, of the Council of theAmericas, of the American Society and former CEO of Chase Manhattan.@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle5
energy they were built on erodes.”“Perhaps I wasn’t wrong about you after all. Sit down!” sheorders.With her chin, she indicates a Napoleon III chair opposite toher. Silence follows. My heart is pounding in my temples and Ifeel like that’s all I can hear. We stare at each other, bothadjusting our breathing to each other. Her emaciated ceweighed a ton. Madame Krudson had been a professional swimmer,a fencer and horse-back rider. She had been a force de lanature. At thirty-five, she was diagnosed with diabetes. gradually eats away her handsome body, now shriveled up in awheelchair. A toe, a foot all amputated when the illness takeshold. Madame Krudson is as heavily guarded as the Sultan ofBrunei. Yet now she is no more than a poor little thing in adust-cloud of Caron face powder. A small bell tinkles behindme. Round One I wonder? A man in liveried attire enters theroom with two red portfolios. He takes two sheets of A4 fromeach one. 5pm: he reads out the closing prices of the DowJones and the day’s consolidated reports from Merrill Lynchand Citigroup. She bailed them out during the subprime crisisand took a majoritystake in them throughvariouspensionfunds. For the last twenty years, Western bankers have come toher, cap in hand, every time there’s a bust in the boom andbust cycle. They come to see her in person, at 1030 FifthAvenue. They go through the same ritual:Krudson squashes ablueberry scone from Dean and Deluca in the palm of her hand.They watch them as they nibble from her hand and lick aroundher wizened, ringed fingers. Literally, eating from her hand.@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle6
“Good for nothing!” she sighs, “You stop Merrill Lynch fromgoing under and what do they do? Award themselves a billiondollar bonus!”She waves away the guy who brought in the papers.“What did you learn from our last meeting in Greece? It seemsto me that you didn’t have much to say.”I had been invited to the Bilberberg annual gathering, a threeday conference behind closed doors on the state of the cesandcaptains of industry from the western world were there. Duringa break, I was handed a sealed envelope: the summons to thismeeting.“I understood that the transatlantic relationship was dead,that the dollar was dead and that the economies of West ishment. No politician has the courage to come out andsay it.”She stares at me but says nothing.“The party’s over.”“And you think I don’t know that already,” she scoffs, “Whatare you thinking? I am the invisible hand of it all!”To rule the world, Madame Krudson and the Bilderberg inventedthe American Way of Life. They created - and then globalized nmassmedia.@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le sièclesystemItofpromisesdomination:individual7
consumption, manipulating the masses.“Now tell me what you really think?”I don’t answer. She yells.“Now, I’m waiting!”MadameKrudsonhas spent her life dictatingto people.Itdoesn’t work anymore. American imperialism is challenged bythe enormous ferocity of the Asian tigers and the rise ofsocial unrest. Creaking under the weight of useless objectsand antidepressants, Western populations won’t let themselvesbe fooled much longer.“1929 saw the birth of Nazism and resulted in 65 million dead.The same could happen again. I think Madame that you have lostcontrol and that you are scared. Your belief in growth as asource for peace has become a reason for ,”shecontinued as if talking to herself. “But does that mean weshould refute it?”“Well, it’s just that control the energy supply. Even that puppet Chavez doesn’tneed us anymore. He gets his weapons from Moscow and lancenetworks and.” she slams her fist down hard on the table,@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle8
“the United States of America is drifting into some kind ofAfro-socialism! That is not leadership!”She yells. Her cats freeze.“The sovereign funds have yet to understand what they can dowith their money: bring us to our knees, knock us to theground. Don’t be fooled. By “us” I mean our civilization, ouridea of happiness.”She pauses, leans on the back of the wheelchair and looks meup and down.“Do you know what the 1,180 billion dollars of the Chinesestimulation plan are for?”“Public works,” I reply, thinking of newspaper articles I hadread in the forthemedia!’ she is getting wound up again. “The money goes tomilitary expenditure. The Chinese want the capability to planahead, to invade another country. They want military powerprojection3. I cannot let that happen, you hear me?She flattens her scrawny hands on the glass desk top. Shebends her head forward and breathes in through the nose:“We Americans will always do the best for Humanity.”“America has failed, ” I interrupt.@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle9
“The Empire is failing apart, trapped in its own sense ofimmortality and invincibility”“Shut up!”She turns and glances nostalgically at the pictures of herpresidential embraces, then flings back at me in a rage:“We are and shall remain the only Empire, do you hear ace.Anythingbutsubmission to China, and the carnage that will come with pire. It all must stop. Government interventions across theWestern world are putting off the final explosion. We mustdismantle the system before it gets into the wrong hands inorder to liberate the people. Mort aux cons, as you say inFrance. De Gaulle was right though, a daunting task, isn’t it?I think he’s the only one I would have got along with fromyour little country. Him and Aznavour of course. Ah, the twoCharles ”So that was it: fear of the red peril? But what is she gettingat exactly?“What does this have to do with me?”“I ask the questions, you answer” she yells.I had promised myself not to ask any questions, remembering myfather’s advice all too well:@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle10
‘If your silence is worth more than what you have to say, thendon’t say anything.”“I give myself insulin injections twice a day. My plasma ischanged every month. This illness gives me no peace.”It was Madame Krudson had made the whole world obese.Now shewas going to die, poisoned by her own blood sugar. A Siamesecat padded over and brushed against its mistress. A diamondhung from its leather collar.“The Arabs thought they would impress me with their ornamentalcity and their private clinic in Switzerland. They offered mea pancreas transplant. But the totipotent embryonic stem cellswill come too late. My body, or what’s left of it, is far toodecayed to resist cryogenics. I will die anytime soon.”Still curled up on her knees, the cat licked between its legswith relish.“Mrs Krudson, I ” I begin, clearing my throat.“I told you to shut up!” she shouts, slamming her hand on thetable.Breathing with difficulty, she pursues, in a lower voice:“I need someone that nobody takes any notice of, in this worldwhere we all spy on one another. I have chosen you for my verylast project. Nobody would suspect you, you’re such a er,anoutstanding performance For many, you are a genius.”@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle11
She takes a small object from her pocket and slides it acrossthe table with her bony fingers. I reach out to take it butMrs Krudson sharply slams it down, hiding it under her hand.The honeymoon is over already:“Don’t fool yourself here: others were not up for the job. AndI got rid of them.”Lifting her hand away, she reveals a gray USB key with hildren’s character.“Here’s your last equation, Mister King of Quant. Tell youremployer, Crédit Général, that it comes from your team. Tellyour team you stole it from Goldman Sachs or that the ideacame to you during the night. Tell them what you want. Youknow how to do it. Put your Merlin hat on. Launch this programon the markets and impress me with the jackpot. Leak it to American government with all those toxic assets. The Geithnerplan wanted them to transform this waste into gold. They willbe served. This is the boom of the century, the last one. Thefunds will be tripping over themselves to get their hands onyour product. Let them think they are the only ones to haveit.”I try some humor:“That has always been the best recipe to sell ketchup”“They will think they are saved,strongerthan ever. Theybelieve they are the masters of the universe. That will be theend for them. Get this program out there. Infiltrate those@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle12
heathens. You are going to start a systemic crisis for me, areal one this time.”I remember Lehmann brothers, AIG, the panic on the markets afew months ago, the queues of anguished people outside thecollapsingbanks,theriotsinArgentinain2001 MadameKrudson goes Governments can’t afford to save them again. Bailing the banksout plan has bled them dry. They won’t be able to do anythingthis time.”“Madame Krudson, I ”“Enoughalready!You don’t have the faintestidea to whatextent this is beyond you and your little life.”“But why would I want to do this?” I ask, trying to gain somecontrol of the situation.“I’ve been watching you for a while. You are disgusted by thesystem, your life is a disaster. You’re about to ofsand,merely a cog in the machine, at the most. Deep down, shape your destiny so it matches your talent. Until now, ething of your life.”4Phrase globally used to denote the idea that these financial institutions are so important to the world economythat they cannot be allowed to fail@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle13
Intrigued, but against my better judgment, I ask:“What will happen?”“Get this program onto the markets and quick. That is all thatI need you to do. Just jump with the bandwagon. Now, get outbefore I change my mind. If you get out of the elevator alive,consider it a good sign.”I cross the blue-colored loft space reluctantly. The abductionof opponents, economic turmoil, media manipulation For fiftyyears, Madame Krudson had been getting rid of anyone who daredto challenge her. From the elevator door, I look again, onelast time, at this tiny waif-like woman. She shouts so loudlythat her whole body trembles like a leaf;“I said: Get Out!”She puts her oxygen mask on, and glares at me one last timewith her steel eyes.The doors of the private elevator look like open jaws. ebefore me? And Madame Krudson just got rid of them like shewas swatting away a fly. Why and how, I wonder, stepping intothe elevator. I press L for lobby.The elevator starts to go down. Everything is normal. A thinline crosses the floor of the cabin. A trap door? I imagineagonizing bodies impaled on the elevator’s machinery, after afall down fourteen floors. The cabin stops and opens onto thefirst floor. The Gaddafi woman stares at me darkly, her thighsready to spring.@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle14
An armored candy-pink Rolls-Royce is waiting for me as I stepoutside. One of Madame Krudson’s drivers is waiting to driveme to JFK. A fire truck hurtles down Fifth Avenue, followed byanother, sirens all on, several blocks behind. At the cornerof Fifth and 84th, some guys from Pricewaterhousecoopers skipthrough a red light in running suits. Every week, they trainfor the marathonwhile dreamingabout their bonus.In NewYork, like everywhere else, nothing is lost, everything jective in mind and are convinced that this is making sense.Just as I was, until a few minutes ago.Before getting into the Rolls-Royce, I walk over to a hot-dogstand. I need to eat something. The guy hands me a boiling hotsausage in a bun leaking oil and sweet mustard sauce.“If I were you brother, I wouldn’t do that,” he says handingme my change.I am not sure I heard him right. The guy carries on as normal,his gaze lowering to the dollar note he is holding out to me.His thumb is placed in the middle, his nail pointing to thetruncated pyramid topped by the floating eye featured on anydollar bill. The same that was on Madame Krudson’s stainedglass windows. I take three steps ��Hecontinued.Further along, I can see couples on the steps of the Met,their arms around each other. The subway is right next tothem. I am trying to work out the distance to see if I couldescape when Madame Krudson’s tigress, her muscular body guard,@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle15
comes out of the building. She stares at me, her arm insideher jacket as if she was about to pull her P22 on me. I cameout alive from Madame Krudson’s apartment. She is not going toleave me alone. I get in the pink colored Rolls Royce. Thebored Central Park polar bear is still moaning.@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle16
Chapter 2Madame Krudson’s Rolls Royce heads towards JFK. Inside, on thewhite leather seats and sealed off from Manhattan, its noise,sunshine and craziness, I try to recover my ‘comfort zone’. rts. The fuselage of a plane, computer screens, complexequations, are my shields against real life. I am thirty-sevenyears’ old. I have 40 million euros in a Cayman Islands bankaccount. I am a Brownian math junkie. A guy paid to flirt withfractals and cover-up risk.I bet on the Asian collapse, surfed on the internet bubble. In2008 I watched the dazed and reeling Merrill Lynch employeesbecome servants of the state. I am in charge of quantitativetrading at Crédit Général Bank. I write quantitative analysisprograms, models with fifty variables. Thirty guys line upmiles of code for me, looking for Alpha, the perfect equation.I press enter and launch software programs onto the financialmarkets.figureLike an Aladdin’sratios.AlgorithmsIdon’tcalculatemagic lamp, it spews forth e.time,computers send orders within a nanosecond. Today, 70% of dailytransactions are made using systems like mine. Every ntelligent machines. These are the drones of finance.On the trading floor, while the smooth-cheeked traders slaveaway on the telephone, I sip green tea while reading The erformance curve which develops by itself. Sometimes I gowatch a movie at the UGC theatre in the La Défense districtwhile waiting for the Stock Exchange to close. As soon as aprogram runs out of steam, I launch another one, straight from@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle17
the computers of my team of physicists specialized in fluidmechanics. The bank dresses it up in a marketing package dorganizes opulent conferences on the treasures of financialinnovation. Nobody has a clue what I’m doing.Mathematics and codes have given us power. Complexity is themost potent weapon, the ‘ ’ sign the golden rule. The planetis a Monopoly game, companies merely reduced to a list ofstock exchange symbols and workers the infantrymen of allpowerful capital. The world works for us but we are neverseen. We bankers, we live leveraged, massively in debt. We betone, borrow one hundred, earn one thousand. GDP, cash-flow,currencies, we bet on anything and everything. We hardly knowhow to read a balance sheet. Most of us have never even setfoot inside the doors of a company, the rat race ydo,thenumber of people they hire. Finance was invented to make grandprojects happen, to raise people out of poverty. These re-absorbing them. Our profits are your losses.Politicians, left way behind, publish lengthy diatribes aboutthe excesses of capitalism. These are written by advisors whowere born just before the fall of the Berlin Wall. They callus terrorists. They were the ones who supplied us with ourarms, targets and plan of attack. Just like with Bin Laden.The politicians’ anger is for cameras only. Twenty years ofgluttony and collusion have produced a system riddled withcrooked practices. With the subprime crisis, we have ruinedentire populations.At worst, I lose my job and find onewith another bank who will double my package. Or, I could do@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle18
something else, likebuy a lousyfootball club, like aRussian oligarch. I could watch men run after a stupid ballhaving already fixed the match in the changing room. No matterwhat we do, governments all over the world are falling overthemselves to help us. We will never be punished. Barack re to otheandHenryof rto them, the firm will completeitsbid of the world.stoogesdisaster’sGeithneroff the resourcesFromtheBillionscome out of no-where,banks are bailed out, the people taken hostage. This is thehold-up of the century, the biggest case of insider trading inhistory. The media are coming down like a ton of bricks on ourbonuses. We must not expose the lie: for sixty years, life oncredit has been a massacre. Finance has revealed its meanness.It controls the world through the Stock Exchanges, devastatingsociety.The worst gangsters on this planet are like me. They fund thefight against malaria, build schools in Africa, invest in yparties. They listen to Bono like he’s the new Messiah, wouldlove to shake hands with AngelinaJolie.They spend theirweekends in their Bionic, a luxurious individual submarine.They escape the real world by flying over it in a private jet.Thanks to their PR advisors, they appear in newspapers behindthe wheel of a Toyota Prius. They seek redemption in art cism. I want to hit the escape key. I can buy everything. Itake out Mrs Krudson’s USB key. I want to buy myself back.@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle19
Chapter ThreeMy relationship with the Bilderberg Club began last January. Alaconic message printed in English lettering on a heavy coatedcard was sent to my home sence at our next meeting scheduled for May 14thto 16th. Information on the precise location willbe provided at a later date. The conference willexamine policy overlaps and differences in the Westunder the theme of:‘The global crisis: threat or opportunity for a newworld order?’Yours sincerely,Robert J. ivedaysbefore the conference. This was to prevent intrusions from herparticipant, I undertook never to breathe a word about what Iwas going to see and hear. Cell-phones and Dictaphones werestrictly forbidden, nothing can get out. Before leaving forthe conference, I got in touch with the few French figures whohad been invited to take part in the past: business leadersand former Prime Ministers like Jospin, Fabius and Rocard.Their names had been leaked on the internet. None of themwould speak to me.@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle20
At Athens airport, a car was waiting to drive me to the AstirPalace in Vouliagmeni. The limousine, with tinted windows, hada huge letter B on its windscreen. The car sped along behindtwo officers on motor cycles from the Astinomia, the nationalpolice force. They sounded their horns as if I was the singerDemis Roussos coming back home. The Palace had been emptiedout. CIA and MI6 agents had led a thorough investigation intothe background and political affiliations of the staff, fromthe guy who washes dishes to the hotel manager. Virtually allthe suiteson my floor were vacant.Beforethe conferencebegan, I noticed, from my balcony with a sea view, the snipersand NATO patrols that were sealing off the perimeter. A fleetof helicopters dropped off those participants who had arrivedin private jets. Above them, an F16 was surveying the area.Greek military dinghies were supervising maritime traffic. Onehad just stopped a speedboat full of journalists. They hadtried to reach the shore. They would be spending a few days ina police station.There were one hundred and thirty of us in a conference roomwith a view over the Mediterranean. Seated in rows, in reversealphabetical order, the crème de la crème of Western selfimportance waited quietly. Those in control of the economicpower (Tim Geithner, Lawrence Summers5, the CEOs of JP theDirector of the NSA and of MI6), press barons (Rupert Murdoch,Eric Schmidt6, Peter Thiel7, Martin Wolf8), European monarchs5Secretary of State for the Treasury under the Clinton Administration andDirector of the White House NationalEconomic Council under PresidentObama.6CEO of Google7Member of the Board of Directors of Facebook8Editor in Chief of the Financial Times@ Flore Vasseur - Comment j’ai liquidé le siècle21
(Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands, Prince Philip of rimfaced, they all shook hands ,all too proud to be there. Inoticed a few women but not a single Asian, African, Arab, norSouth-American.A huge videoconference screen was switched on and the meetingbegan. Madame Krudson appeared in fron
of Madison Ave. McDonalds and Texaco: the worldwide smell. I have an hour to kill, a hole in my otherwise over-packed schedule. I try to get interested in the windows of the luxury stores. All I see is me, an angular face, a mere product of the global meritocracy. Sleek frames have re
Additional Questions for the Love Does Study Guide A Six-Week Study Program: Week 1 - read the Forward, Introduction, and chapters 1-4 Week 2 - read chapters 5-9 Week 3 - read chapters 10-14 Week 4 - read chapters 15-20 Week 5 - read chapters 21-26 Week 6 - read chapters 27-31 and the epilogue Advice to hosts
THIS IS A PREVIEW. The full product includes 5 comprehension questions for using text evidence for each of the following chapter sets: Chapters 1-5 Chapters 6-10 Chapters 11-15 Chapters 16-20 Chapters 21-25 Chapters 26-30 Also included are complete answer keys with page numbers for your reference or to provide to
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Day 1: Read the Introduction to Jane Eyre in this guide, then read Jane Eyre, chapters 1-3. Day 2: Read Jane Eyre, chapter 4. Day 3: Complete the After You Read narration and discussions. Section 2: Jane at Lowood, Chapters 5-10 Day 4: Read Jane Eyre, chapters 5 and 6. Day 5: Read Jane Eyre, chapters 7 and 8. Day 6: Read Jane Eyre, chapters .
IEEE AP-S Chapter Activity Committee Chair-Dr. Ajay K. Poddar (akpoddar@ieee.org) AP-S only Chapters, Jt. Chapters, and SBC (Student Branch Chapter) Total chapters: 194 (Chapters-30, Jt. Chapters-115, SBC-49); July 2020 Chapter Type Chapter Name O
