Prisoners of Paradise

by Brandon Lars Erikson

  Grant sighed as he cleared his monitor and brought up a different set of electronic documents from his endless computer files. Grant spent most of his time at this desk, determining which stories, scripts and news documentaries would never be allowed to be seen on the televisions and monitors that normal Ailanian citizens had in their homes and places of business. Grant was the man who told the writers and reporters what they could not say, and today, he had many such items to reject, censor, and bury.

  Grant took a glance at a script for a sitcom that was simply too humdrum to put on television. He began writing a memo telling the writer to clear his desk and vacate the building before the end of the day, because he was terminated for not even trying to make an effort to come up with something entertaining. He was just about to hit the send key when suddenly, his little, silver com began ringing.

  “Yes?” He said calmly when he answered.

  An electronic voice on the other end began speaking in a spooky tone, “Good gods in the high heavens above! That’s what I said to myself when I saw my last paycheck! I was thinkin’ Christ, how come they take so much? And when they take it? What the hell do they do with it? I’m tellin’ ya right now, my friend, it’s all going back to the fools you slave for in the form of corporate welfare! Your good Ailanian government thinks that it is perfectly alright for the Ailanian pseudo-capitalists to continue to make all kinds of money for themselves, while their companies continually fail to make profits, keeping our economy in the shitter! And all that cash your boss earns from being the government’s propaganda department doesn’t trickle down to you even though you do all the work! This planet is going down the tubes because all these pseudo-capitalists, like your boss, are receiving all kinds of government bailout money and kickbacks while we have to settle for peanuts and table scraps! Why is that not a reason for you to get ANGRY?!”

  Grant’s face stiffened as he realized he recognized this voice, “What do you want me to do?”

  Suddenly, a different voice that was deeper, and darker, began flowing out of the com. “I just want you to keep listening…”

  “Oh shit…it can’t be…”

  The second voice growled, “Killing John McDonald the other day was a breeze and I would love to go out and slit someone else’s throat…I’m having so much fun here on Ailana. How about you, Grant? Are you ready to hold up your end of the bargain? Who’s my next target, buddy? Who do I get to kill next? Are you gonna be able to cough up the cash I demand for my services…or is someone else gonna get to convince me to come work for them?”

  “Oh shit…what the hell does he mean by that?”

  Grant tried as hard as he could to maintain the apathetic look on his face after he realized that the first voice he had heard delivering the anti-pseudo-capitalist rhetoric, was simply a recording. He felt his teeth grinding as he realized that digitally recorded voice, he had heard earlier, had belonged to someone he had known and cared about.

  “Oh shit…this is really happening…this tit for tat game is about to become a full blown war.”

  Grant felt a chill go down his spin as he realized that the first person, who he had heard speaking, was probably dead. Grant took a shallow breath and replied, “I will let you know when things on this end are ready. Until then, don’t call us…we’ll call you.”

  Grant felt the air in his lungs get cold as he quickly hung up the com and got right back to work.

  Location: Undisclosed location…Ailana

  Ailanian Standard Time: 1015 Hours

  Van Dien slouched in his seat as his floating monitor turned blue and a television news anchorman began speaking in an elegant tone, “Magistrate Hupo, I’ve been watching the Mele Entertainment Channel, and I’m shocked by what talk show hosts, like Jalapo, are saying about you. The kindest of terms you are sometimes referred to, by the Elite Ailanians, is a Socialist. The worst thing I’ve heard the Independents call you is a douche bag and even a pseudo-capitalist. Are you aware of the level of enmity that crosses the airwaves and that people have made part of their daily conversation about you?”

  Magistrate Hupo looked tired, yet confident as he said, “I think that when you watch and listen to Jalapo, it’s pretty apparent, and it’s troublesome. But keep in mind that since the days of tribes and kings, there have been periods in Ailanian history where this kind of vitriol comes out. It happens often when you’ve got an economy that is making people more anxious, and people are feeling like there is a lot of change that needs to take place. I think the vast majority of Ailanians, whether they are human or native, know that we’re trying hard, that I want what’s best for them and this planet. We have made some progress actually…”

  “Yes…but progress…must be protected,” Van Dien thought as he looked out the window of his hoverlimo at the vast, green scenery below. He lit a cigarette as he gazed at the landscape. He relaxed and enjoyed this rare moment when he got to fly at a high altitude and take in the magnificent sites that Ailana’s island continent had to offer. He had just left the tall, shiny buildings of Polynea and was flying over fertile cropland, that was broken up every so often by the darkness of an open pit mine.

  “Look at what we have accomplished here,” He thought as he smoked. “Thanks to Ailana we have the means to create peace, and with peace, comes civilization. We now have peace because of these massive, agricultural fields, which were made possible by Hydroplantations that provided soldiers with food, while the electricity they produced allowed Ailanian factories to supply The Military with ammunition and vital resources, so that they could crush the Terraxakors that threatened our civilization. Because of what they did, these works of man are more beautiful than the great mountains that loom behind them…it’s just too bad we weren’t able to bulldoze those mountains down to make more farms and factories, we could have won the war sooner…this is a tribute to imagination…our most precious resource that must be managed…wisely.”

  When the fields, strip mines and factories of the central region disappeared from his view, Van Dien turned his attention to the monitor and felt unimpressed by what he saw. A news reporter was interviewing a young Hokupi woman, named Andrea Halaku, who was intelligently dressed. Andrea was explaining something to the reporter in great detail, “One of the biggest problems facing modern Ailanian agriculture today is a lack of diversity in a changing post-war market. Many years ago, Earth based corporations built Hydroplantations in several locations around the island continent. The technology of The Hydroplantations has turned many arid regions of our island continent into prime farming areas.”

  Van Dien narrowed his eyes and felt his heart beating with anger as the young woman said, “However, The Hydroplantations were designed to grow large amounts of food for The Military, and the communities that have developed around these Hydroplantations are experiencing an economic recession because The Military does not need to buy those types of agricultural commodities in the volume that it used to during the war. Our research is helping to revitalize these communities and bring a bit of traditional culture back, with a modern twist. We believe new enterprises, like traditional worm farming, for example, with a hint of modern help from our research, might actually become a great niche market. The Ailanian people need a better source of food. Ailana needs this kind of progressive change, and researchers, like myself, who work in Dr. DeWolf Miller’s research laboratories here at the Cedar Hills Institute of….”

  The image was suddenly cut off and Van Dien felt a bit of pity, “If you were not a terrorist and a traitor, I’d feel sorry for you. Should it really be a sin, to want more from life than what they allow you to have? But you have broken my laws…and now you must be punished for your insolence…like I said before, imagination…is also a resource…that needs to be managed correctly.”

  A beeping sound broke his concentration and he realized that the flying limousine had landed.

  “We are ready for you, sir,”
the voice said from the intercom system. Van Dien exhaled a large cloud of smoke as he exited his limo, and began calmly walking down a long, dark corridor that was made up of a hexagon-shaped cage of metal and concrete. When he reached a solid door at the end of the corridor, it seemed to open for him just because of his presence. A man dressed in a white contamination suit and a large, glass helmet greeted Van Dien after he stepped inside.

  “Good morning, sir,” the man in the bulky suit said respectfully. “We have the specimens who were captured a few nights ago. They are ready and waiting for you.”

  “Thank you, Schultz,” Van Dien said as he dropped his cigarette onto the floor and crushed it. “However, do we really need to refer to them as specimens? After all, they are biochemists, not insects. Please, have some respect.”

  Van Dien proceeded to walk quickly, with the man in the contamination suit staggering beside him. They walked into another room, which was hexagonal in shape. Its dark walls were lined with pipes and flexible tubes, and the floor was made of iron grating, which gave an audible clank when one walked on it.

  Van Dien looked around and saw the four young people his agents had kidnapped in the alley beside the nightclub. One of the people was Andrea, the green skinned Hokupi woman, who he had just seen in the video clip that he had just got done watching. Another was a large bodied, Balguran man with well-groomed facial hair and dark brown skin. The other two were Bontune men with large, brown eyes.

  All four Ailanians were each strapped to mechanized tables, which were outfitted with hydraulics that could adjust the amount of incline the tables were set at. They were naked save a thin, sheet-like garment, which stopped at the middle of their thighs. Their arms and legs each had a series of intravenous tubing stuck into them with large gauged needles that looked obvious under the skin. The intravenous tubes contained a green liquid that appeared to glow. Straps ran across their foreheads and chins keeping their heads in place. Their eyes looked glazed over, as if they were in a state of shock. Their mouths hung open, and viscous saliva ran over their lips, and down their chins. They appeared to have functioning minds inside inert bodies. Their faces were paralyzed, but their eyes seemed to convey thoughts of, “Help me…please help me.”

  Schultz began walking around to each of the tables and flicked switches, pushed buttons and adjusted dials while he made sure the needles were properly inserted into their veins. The people strapped to the highly mechanized tables did not seem to notice him. Van Dien took slow steps that made demonic-sounding echoes as he walked.

  “Are you ready to begin, Schultz?” Van Dien asked in a stern voice.

  “I am ready, sir,” The man in the protective suit took up a position behind an electronic console that was waist high and filled with hundreds of buttons and dozens of display screens.

  Van Dien gazed at the four young people strapped to the tables. “I know who you are…I know your names, you are Andrea Halaku, Tango Moluki, Hanasi Montulu, and Babana Kumtoli. Soon, I hope to meet your other terrorist friends, Ignesia and Wallace. So far, they remain free because they are still useful to my plan…and when their usefulness ends…so will their lives.”

  Van Dien watched the people twitch with pain as he said, “I know of your desires. You are romantics. You are fighting for your vision of a perfect world, where people with great ambitions and abilities, can create their own utopia through their own hard work, which becomes the means to their own ends. However, on Ailana, we are going to begin admonishing how everyone should be equal, and that one’s work is not good, unless it benefits…everyone.”

  Van Dien remained emotionless as he watched the green liquid creep down the intravenous tubes and into their veins. Andrea whimpered and a tear fell down her cheek. For a brief moment, he almost felt a bit of empathy.

  “Oh my children, my precious children…you all need to learn how to be team players,” He said. “In your minds, the good of the many, must never exceed the good of what has been called, the ego…and because you understand that concept, you know the obvious principles of freedom that I must suppress. You realize that the work of creative and free thinking people, who are acting as individuals, can lead to great advances that can benefit a society. Your free thinking minds desire to use your knowledge of biochemistry and science to create healthy crops and high quality animals that can be raised on organic, family-owned farms…you wish to create new markets and new jobs that could restart Ailana’s failing economy. You do this because you see the error of the unsustainable Hydroplantations that make a few people very rich, while the food they produce makes the people of this planet poor and unhealthy.”

  The four Ailanians moaned softly, their eyes were full of fear as they gazed at the man in the black suit while he said, “Well, I guess you all know by now, that there are some people on this planet, who are very rich, and need me to keep you from ruining the good thing they have going. Your desire to prove that you are smarter than everybody else is dangerous. You see folks, your kind of logic and reasoning could lead to some sort of progress, or reform that could be very dangerous to my plan…and for the sake of everyone on Ailana…you must be stopped.”

  Van Dien gazed upon Andrea with a bit of malevolent sorrow. Her body appeared to give one violent jolt that was repressed by the restraints.

  “Alas,” Van Dien said, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but to live on Ailana my friends, one must realize that you will never be of any importance whatsoever, unless…you first submerge yourself…in a cause…that is greater than yourself. You wish to change the world? But for who? For yourselves, or for all of Ailana? Do you wish to change the world so that it benefits your own set of egotistical values first? You fools! You have to learn that people like me are the ones who are allowed to be selfish. People like you, are threatening that.”

  He continued his stoic gaze and said, “You wish to fulfill your own self-interests…you wish for a world where you can have self-fulfillment. However, self-fulfillment eludes you because you feel the oppression of those who have power and wealth. They have everything that you don’t, not because they used their talents to achieve it, but because they knew which ass to kiss and which politician to bribe. While you may have talent, you are oppressed by those who have better television commercials and more talk show hosts willing to lie for them. You wish to be the means to your own end…but there are those on this planet with wealth, power and privilege, who not only stand in your way, they stand on your shoulders, using your labor as a means to an end so that they might get their undeserved status in society. You feel the weight of these people as they hold you down, forcing you to bend to their will because their ideas are the most popular even though they might be completely wrong.”

  Van Dien took a long drag and sighed. Smoke left his lips while he said, “You feel like someone who has been subjugated…enslaved to the opinions and will of those who have been able to convince those in power that they’re solution is right and yours, is wrong. I bet you feel like Atlas…with the weight of the world on your shoulders…and in the words of a great prophet from Earth…you wish you could just…shrug it off. It only stands to reason that if you could free yourself of those who are keeping you down…you could change the world…and make it a better place. Am I right?”

  He relished in their groans as he said, “You want to change this world? Feel free to do so, but not on my watch…progress and reform do not happen unless I allow it. You had been warned once…and now, the punishment must follow…you, my children…are to become Prisoners of Paradise.”

  Van Dien turned toward the man in the protective suit and said, “Schultz, have them prepared for the next step.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Van Dien began to walk out of the room as he said, “I will inform a Morality Squad, that Ailana has some more people, who are about to develop a few bad habits that are going to cut into society’s valuable time. Cutz is an illegal drug running ram
pant all over the planet…and these people will soon develop an uncontrollable craving for it. We will drop them off in Polynea and they will act as bait to help us ensnare some other people who we need to catch. Soon, their work will no longer be a danger to us. By the way Schultz…how are those two men we picked up in the desert doing?”

  The odd man in the protective suit seemed to freeze in terror. “They are still not speaking sir.”

  “Keep working on it, Schultz,” Van Dien said as he casually walked away leaving a trail of wispy smoke behind, “Keep working on it. And how is the online search for members of that resistance group, The Evil, going?”

  Schultz said softly, “We have not been able to lure any of them out of hiding. They may have shut down their media campaign operations for good this time.”

  Van Dien said, “Good. We have an election coming up and we do not need them interfering with the outcome through their attempts to educate the public with their ideals. Do not call me unless it is absolutely necessary…I have to locate a certain drug dealer before he flees the planet. A few crucial events, which are a big part of my plan, are about to take place and I have very little time to spare.”

  Location: An alley way in downtown Polynea.

  Ailanian Standard Time: 2330 Hours

  Jack clenched his hands, scrunching up the pockets of his trench coat as waited nervously. He hated meetings like this. The night air was hot and humid. Jack felt his heart racing with nervousness as he made sure the safety on his gun was in the off position. He closed his eyes and hoped the suspense wouldn’t drive him insane.