The E Utopia Project

by Kudakwashe Muzira

  She had no trouble getting livestreams of other parts of the globe. The problem was only limited to the storm and the areas around it.

  Maybe NASA, ESA and the privately owned companies use one satellite to cover that part of the Indian Ocean, she thought. That was the only logical explanation. She opened her browser and searched the internet for shared Earth observation satellites. NASA and ESA shared some satellites, and only two of the privately owned companies shared satellites. So why was it that all eight channels were not livestreaming this particular part of the globe? This was too much to be a coincidence. Someone didn’t want the world to know what was happening in that area right now. Perhaps the extraterrestrial beings responsible for El Monstruo had the technology to jam satellites.

  She had to find out what was being concealed from the world. The only way to find out was to deploy drones in that area. GEMA had drones stationed in Kenya and she had to send them to the Indian Ocean without delay if she wanted to find out what was going on. She had the feeling that the thing that was being concealed was not in the ocean but in the sky above it.

  She phoned the head of GEMA’s Central African Drones Unit.

  “How are you, ma’am,” a voice rasped from the other end of the line.

  “Fine, Andreas. I need you to send at least three drones to the Indian Ocean.”

  “The Indian Ocean?” Andreas said with disbelief. GEMA used its Central African drones to monitor the region’s forests. They had never used the drones to monitor oceans.

  “Yes, Andreas. I want you to send six drones to scan an area of ten kilometer radius around the area the 29.3° S, 53.5° E. I want the drones to take pictures of anything they see flying in the sky, natural or man-made.”

  “Can you please repeat the coordinates, ma’am?”

  “29.3° S, 53.5° E.”

  “Roger that, ma’am.”

  “Andreas, how long do you think it will take you to get the drones to the area?”

  “The drones will take off as soon as we get clearance from Kenya Civil Aviation Authority. I think they’ll arrive at the location in less than one and a half hours.”

  “I want the drones to scan the area for the whole week.”

  “Okay, ma’am. The drones can stay in air for twenty-eight hours, so I will launch another six drones tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Andreas.”

  She sprang to her feet and rushed to Wong’s office. The little Chinese man raised his eyes from his computer and looked at her with bored eyes.

  “Wong, I stumbled upon a startling discovery.”

  “What is it this time? Did you find out the skin color of the aliens who are stealing our oxygen?”

  “Something is happening over the Indian Ocean at this very moment. All eight satellite imagery channels are not showing real-time images of one particular area in the Indian Ocean. I think something jammed their satellites to conceal a nefarious activity that is happening in the region.”

  “And what could be that nefarious activity?” Wong snorted. “Come on, Sara. This is getting—”

  “Wong, listen to me. Right now NASA, ESA and the six privately owned companies with Earth observation satellites are not showing real-time images of one place in the Indian Ocean. You can check it out for yourself if you doubt me.”

  “Most of these privately owned companies are licensed with the US government. ESA belongs to US allies. Maybe the US government is carrying out a secret operation in the region and maybe they asked the companies to stop livestreaming the region.”

  “A military operation? I don’t think so. There is calm in that region and no government in that part of the world poses a military threat to the US.”

  “Listen, Sara. If these space agencies and companies really wanted to cover something up, they wouldn’t have replayed a video clip. They would have simply pasted a previously taken picture on top of the spot that they wanted to cover up. Replaying a short video clip won’t cover up anything. On the contrary, it actually draws attention to that area.”

  “You’re right,” Sara concurred. “Replaying a video would be the dumbest thing to do if they wanted to cover up something but why are they doing it?”

  “I don’t know why the agencies and companies are doing what you say they’re doing but I know it’s nothing to do with El Monstruo. Why would the agencies and companies want to help aliens destroy our home planet? The directors and the staff of these agencies and companies live here on Earth and they’ll all die if the atmosphere loses all of its oxygen.”

  “Maybe the aliens are controlling their minds or maybe the aliens hacked into the systems of these companies and are tampering with the images to cover up something.”

  “Sara, wake up. Stop dreaming. Listen to yourself. You’re talking about aliens and mind control. Soon you’ll be talking about shapeshifting. We don’t know where oxygen is going but that shouldn’t turn us into dreamers.”

  “Maybe I’m dreaming but I ain’t taking any chances,” Sara said obstinately. “I think something is happening above the Indian Ocean and I’m going to find out the truth. I sent drones to scan the area.”

  “I think you are wasting time and resources. In fact, you’re worsening the situation because your drones are needlessly burning fuel and releasing greenhouse gases.”

  “There’s a big chance that I’m wrong. But there’s also the slight chance that I’m right and at this juncture we need to look at all possibilities.”

  Wong snickered. “Fine. Let me help you develop this alien theory of yours. Perhaps just as we humans have a taste for carbonated drinks, the aliens have a taste for oxygenated drinks and they’re using the oxygen they’re stealing from us to oxygenate their drinks.” He tilted his head, and looked at Sara with the corners of his eyes. “Or perhaps oxygen is actually poisonous to the aliens and they’re using it as a chemical weapon in a big war on their home planet.”

  “You think El Monstruo is funny?”

  “No, I think your solutions to El Monstruo are funny.”

  Sara returned to her office. When she looked at images coming from NASA, she discovered that the agency was now showing real-time images of the diminishing storm. She logged onto the other sites and wasn’t surprised to see them livestreaming the storm. Whatever was happening in that area is over, she thought, sucking her thumb.

  She paged Nzue and the Gabonese came at once. She struggled for calm as she told him what she had found out.

  “So you think NASA, ESA and six privately owned satellite imagery companies are involved in some wicked scheme,” Nzue said thoughtfully. “What common interest would draw them together? The privately owned companies are competitors and it will take something remarkable to bring them together.”

  “Maybe someone is coercing them.”

  “Who could have the power to coerce a United States federal agency and an agency belonging to the European Union?” Nzue asked.

  “I don’t know but I believe that this is all somehow linked to El Monstruo.”

  “Linked how?”

  “I don’t know,” Sara said with a shrug.

  Nzue thoughtfully squeezed the tip of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “You could be onto something. El Monstruo is a big mystery and we have to explore all possibilities if we hope to overcome the disaster.”

  “Did you have a look at my draft?”

  “I’m still going through it.”

  “Thanks, Nzue. You can go back to your office. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

  Nzue left and Sara resumed watching satellite images, only taking her eyes from her computer when her phone rang. “Hello.”

  “Ma’am, the drones are now in the location.”

  “Thank you, Andreas,” she said, wishing the drones had arrived earlier.

  She spent the whole day watching satellite images, hoping to find another anomaly in the images coming from Earth observation satellites.

  At exactly half past three, she left her office and drove her c
ar out of GEMA Headquarters. She was about to pass the shopping center when she remembered she needed some groceries. She drove into the shopping center and parked in the almost empty parking area. She disembarked from the car without her breathing machine because she knew the shops were all air-conditioned. She scooted into the largest supermarket.

  Only a year ago, the supermarket had a dairy section, a butcher and a poultry section. She picked some soya mince for her dog and two packs of tofu for herself before she walked to the greens section. She did the shopping on autopilot. Her mind was preoccupied with the strange discovery she had stumbled upon today. She had the feeling that if she figured out what the puzzling behavior of the space agencies and satellite imagery companies meant, she could save the world.

  She mechanically pushed the cart to the till. Her chest constricted when she saw a tall, athletic man pushing a shopping cart toward the same till. He was wearing a cycling helmet, a T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, his breathing machine slung on his neck.

  “Sara,” he said.

  “Hi George,” she said, trying her best to appear unfazed.

  “It’s been a long time since I last saw you in flesh. I’ve seen lots of you on TV busy trying to save the world. I listened to quite a few of your UN speeches. They were all quite impressive.”

  “Thanks. It was nice bumping into you, George,” Sara said without turning back. “I’ve got to run.”

  “See you, Sara.”

  She pushed the cart to the till, desperate to get away from George. She had told herself that she was over him but one look at him had told her that he still owned a big chunk of her heart. Her preoccupation with solving the environmental disaster facing the world had helped her forget about him and she had assumed she was over him.

  “Good afternoon,” the teenage sales clerk said.

  “Afternoon,” Sara said anxiously. From the corner of her eye, she could see George going to the next till. Sara sucked her thumb, willing the teenage sales clerk to hasten. She wanted to get out of the supermarket before George because she knew if he got out first, he would wait for her outside.

  Resisting the urge to look at George, Sara stared impatiently at the sales clerk. To her dismay, the sales clerks finished saving her and George at the same instant. She quickly pushed her shopping cart to the exit, desperate to beat George to the door. He had broken her heart and she wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Images of the time she caught him with his ex-girlfriend in his arms came to her mind unbidden. George had told her he hated Kyla, his ex. He said he wanted nothing to do with Kyla after catching her having a threesome with two of his friends. Sara was shattered to see him and his ex holding each other as if their lives depended on it. She retreated in tears and left them to their carnal business. Kayla and George were so engrossed in each other that neither of them saw her.

  Sara had walked only four meters outside the supermarket when she heard running footsteps behind her. She turned and saw George flying toward her. He knocked her down in a rugby tackle and she tumbled to the pavement, bruising her elbows. He pinned her to the ground with all his might. She was about to scream when she heard the sound of gunfire.

  “Keep low, Sara. Don’t raise your head. Follow me.”

  He rolled behind three large concrete flower vases. The flowers had been put on the shopping centre more for utility than for their beauty. People were more interested in the oxygen the flowers produced when they photosynthesized than in their colorful petals.

  “What’s happening?” she squeaked.

  “You tell me. Why is that gunman trying to kill you?”

  “What gunman? I think there is a mistake.”

  “Mistake or not, he wants to kill you.”

  They heard the sound of an oncoming vehicle. George raised his head for a split second.

  “It’s a delivery truck. It’s our only chance of escape. When I break into a run, you follow me. Hold on to my belt and the hem of my trousers. Don’t let go if you want to live.”

  Heart thumping, Sara slipped her right hand into his pants and gripped the hem and the belt. George raised his head for a split second and a bullet whizzed over them and ricocheted off the wall of the supermarket.

  “One, two three, run!” George sprang to his feet and broke into a run, dragging Sara behind him. Spurred by adrenaline, she matched him step for step. George timed his run when the front of the truck was coming between them and the gunman. They sped toward the truck and George managed to jump and grab the truck’s trailer before it passed away. Sara held on to him with all her strength. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes when she felt her shoes skidding on the tarmac. Praying his belt and trousers would not break, she gripped the fabric and the leather with her right hand as tight as she could, and grabbed his T-shirt with her left hand.

  “Put your arms round me Sara,” George ordered, praying the driver would not see them in the view mirror and stop to investigate.

  Sara put her left arm around him but she was too scared to take her right hand off his belt. They heard the sound of gunfire and two bullets hit trailer. To George’s relief, the driver accelerated the truck, sensing danger. Amid bursts of gunfire, the truck drove out of the shopping center and turned left, putting Sara and George under the cover of the concrete walls that surrounded the shopping center.

  “Put both of your arms around me, Sara!” George ordered, panting. He had only run for twenty meters but he felt like he had run a marathon. He panted as his lungs sought for oxygen in the oxygen-deficient air.

  She sighed deeply before she released her hand from his belt and put it around him. Before they broke up, when they were making love, there were times when she thought she held him tight as if her life depended on it, but now she knew what it really meant to hold a man as if her life depended on it.

  “The gunman must have a car and we have to jump off before he overtakes the truck.”

  “Jump off,” Sara said, panting more from adrenaline than from lack of oxygen.

  “Yes. We jump off on my count.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Sara, you can do it. If we stay on the truck, we’ll run out of oxygen and fall. You let go of me on a count of three.” He closed his eyes, feeling like he was about to faint from asphyxiation. “You must land on your feet, facing the direction of the truck and when you land you must run a few steps to reduce the force of the change in momentum. Do you get me?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did I say?” he said breathlessly.

  “You said I should land on my feet, facing the direction of the truck and I must run a few steps when I touch the ground.”

  “Good. Try to jump as far away from the truck as you can... one... two... three... jump!”

  Closing her eyes, Sara pushed herself away from him and swerved in mid-air. She landed facing the direction of the truck and the momentum made her run for three steps before she lost her balance and tumbled. George jumped off the truck two seconds later. His head spinning, he unslung his breathing machine and put it on. He breathed a few deep gasps before he ran to her.

  “Are you alright, Sara?”

  “I think so,” she croaked, panting.

  He took off his breathing machine and extended it to her. “Put it on as fast as you can. We’ve got to run!”

  He pulled her to her feet as she put on the machine and dragged her into the woods. They sat behind the trunk of a huge American beech.

  A black car whizzed past them at maximum speed.

  “I bet that’s our guy going after the truck.”

  Sara breathed hungrily. The oxygen from the breathing machine felt as sweet as honey in her lungs.

  “We’re going to have to share the machine. It’s now my turn.”

  She took off the breathing machine and he quickly put it on.

  “Let’s get going,” he said. “When your friend finds out we jumped off the truck, he may call for reinforcements.”

  “Reinforcements? You
make it sound as if we’re in a war.”

  “What do you think this is, Sara? Do you think this is a game?”

  “This must be a mistake.”

  “Mistake or no mistake, he wants to eliminate you. Let’s get moving.” He sprang to his feet and walked into the woods.

  “We must get in touch with the police,” Sara said, following him.

  George took out his phone and switched it off. “Do you have a phone, Sara?”

  “Yes.”

  “Switch it off. He might use your phone to track you.”

  “But we need to call 911.”

  “We’ll not use our phones before we know what we are up against.”

  Sara felt dizzy. The adrenaline had increased her heartbeat and her need for oxygen.

  “It’s now your turn,” he said, taking off the breathing machine.

  She swiftly put on the machine and inhaled its delicious oxygen.

  “It’s my turn,” he said when they had walked for over forty meters.

  She took off the breathing machine and he yanked it away from her and put it on. He closed his eyes, enjoying the oxygen.

  “What did you do to him?” he asked, increasing his pace.

  “Who?” she said, panting as she struggled to keep pace with him.

  “Who else? The man who wants to kill you of course. Did you ditch him like you ditched me? This time it seems you ditched the wrong guy.”

  “Ditched you?” Sara bawled. “I didn’t know you were so fond of re-writing history.”

  “Did you get promoted, Sara? You ditch guys when you get promoted. If I remember correctly, you ditched me when you were promoted from Deputy Director to Director of GEMA. Why did you ditch our gun-toting friend? Have you been promoted to the UN Secretary-General?”

  “Shut up, you asshole.” The word asshole echoed in Sara’s ears. The last time she used such language was when she was in high school, talking to a boy who had grabbed her and tried to kiss her without her consent.