The remaining wizard, wearing yellow, appeared earnest, craving approval. He appeared to be shorter than Demus. Possessing a square-shaped face and muscular shoulders, he could be easily mistaken for a football player. He had dark black hair. “Greetings, I’m Regi. It’s based upon the Latin word, “regimen,’ meaning government. I’m passionate about economic theories, so I’ll be responsible for financial affairs. In other words, I’m all about the money.” Hand extended out, he jokingly rubbed his fingers together. He then held out his palm into the direction of Indie, completing the circle.
Indie beamed as she said, “There’s nothing to fear from us. We are the Liberators, and we’re going to drag you kicking and screaming into a new era of progress. Sorry for being blunt, but this is the medicine you all need to make up for decades of mismanagement. The world’s a mess right now, as you all know. Our job’s to clean up. You’re all going to advance by one hundred years in a very short time.”
She spread her arms out wide. “We’ve established five zones of governance for this planet. We’re responsible for North America, or NAM. There are four others. South America, which is Sudamérica in Spanish, so we call it SUDA; Asia, which we call AJI; Europe, which will be called EURO, and finally, Africa, which will be labelled AFRI. Each zone will have a group of four Liberators governing. We know them all and we work very closely together. In addition, we have hundreds of other Liberators all over the world, who will act as our ambassadors of peace and prosperity. They’re most eager to serve you.
“This consolidation of control means there will be no enemies. We’re all friends working together. It was the only way to ensure there are no counterforces of Mortals working against a part of the globe. War’s effectively over. As of now, there will henceforth be no more hostilities on Earth.”
She held out her arms apologetically. “We realize this is a huge paradigm shift for you. However, without great change, there can be no great leap forward. My colleagues will explain our new political and economic mandates. We pledge that we will remain in power only three years, and then we’ll return power to you. It’s the only way. We only want to help humanity out of its current political, economic, and societal morass. We are your new rulers, but more than that, we are your friends.”
Indie turned to Demus. “Go ahead.”
His confident voice boomed out. He seemed to seek the spotlight, and excited about doing so. “Good news, Mortals. As you may know by now, the world has eliminated its nuclear threat. We’re pleased to report that they’re destroyed, not deployed.” His tone grew serious. “We, of course, couldn’t trace all existing stockpiles of nuclear warheads, and they’re likely sitting in many secret, covert locations without means of launch. We can’t find them without your help. I call upon all nuclear powers to assist us in finding such reprehensible weapons and we will eliminate them for you.”
Demus’ voice became cheery once again. “As said, now we can celebrate. Literally, the Doomsday Clock has been reset big time. The clock may now be set at one minute after waking up to make coffee, not one minute before midnight.”
The three other wizards applauded Demus’ last line. Despite the considerable distances between them, all the citizens on the ground below could clearly hear sounds of clapping and cheering.
Demus pretended to be modest, nodding away among the adulation.
He spoke again. “As I’ve said, I’m responsible for politics, which includes explaining how we set up things. You’re going to like it.” He rubbed his hands together with pleasure. “We’re going to have a new weekly structure. You humans, of course, can continue your lives the way you like it. But hear me out! We Liberators will have Mondays as Debate Days. That means we meet here again, right above you, and we debate the issues affecting you. Live. You’ll have full access to these debates. We will not discuss anything in secret.”
He paused. “Now here’s the exciting part when you can get involved. Fridays will be Petition Days. You submit a petition to us, and we’ll pick the most relevant ones. We’ll arrange for you to speak out, and you can be seen on all the screens here. Everyone will hear you. Then we’ll answer your questions as best as we can. No questions are off limits.
“Tuesdays and Thursdays are Game Days. That’s when we wizards will showcase all our incredible wizard games. They involve stamina, lightning speed, challenges, and cunning. Once you see them, you’ll all want to stop watching Monday Night Football!” He laughed. “We’ll have our first Game Day tomorrow starting at ten a.m. Eastern Time. Feel free to tape our live feed any time and replay anywhere. We will not claim copyright.”
“Finally, the remaining three days of the week – Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays – will be Progress Days. That’s when Justica will be very busy. Setting up much-needed infrastructure all over North America – in El Salvador, in Canada, in America – you name it. Moreover, such facilities will be permanent. They may’ve been created by magic, but the foundations are very real, using the materials you yourselves use. Since no construction costs will be incurred, these new installations will be a huge boon to your local economies.”
He clasped his hands together. “That’s it,” he said, staring directly ahead at the screen.
Justica spoke next, glaring at Demus, yet professionally withdrawing her withering glance just in time. “I think Demus has already addressed issues on infrastructure. I don’t need say more.”
Eager to pick up on the unexpected air time, Indie intervened. “Now wearing my other hat.” She gazed confidently into the cameras. “A brief report on law and order. We’d like to apologize for the confusion over our actions that effectively immobilized the money supply of every country. We want to get rid of the army. Since the threat of war has effectively been removed, we’d ask that the military be disbanded. No one should ever be trained to harm other humans. That is most illogical.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Since we have to explain why we seized the money supply, I’ll turn it over to Regi.”
Regi’s muscular visage appeared on the huge screens. “As you know, ‘for the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil’ as enunciated by 1 Timothy 6:10, in the New Testament. As well, currency is a very ineffective way of adding value to a society. Those who need money the most often don’t have it, and those who don’t need it, often have it. Starting immediately, we will switch to a value system. All transactions will be based upon the value that you – the people – place upon it. No longer will institutions hoard your money. Money shall have no place to exist. It’s all based upon you, the honorable citizen, and what you perceive to be important in your life.”
He held up a device that looked like a smartphone. “This is called a tab. We’ll create millions of these new devices for you. Just pick up one in your house. When you start using them, you’ll find that you each have two thousand bitcoins a day to use up. Bitcoins are the equivalent of electronic currency. However, it will not be currency, it’ll be value.”
Using magic, he conjured himself up using a water tap in a kitchen sink at a model home. The impossibly spotless kitchen appeared to be straight out of a studio. There was no dirt, no grime, and no dishes. He turned on the tap and water gushed out. He held the tab near a tiny gleaming square inscribed into the faucet. Clicking on the tab, he aimed it at the faucet. “You see that you desire five bitcoins worth of water. You capture the data and the value’s automatically transferred to the water filtration plant. The people responsible for the water filtration plant can then use up this value to hire people to run the plant, to purchase more supplies, and to complete much needed renovations.”
Moving his hands about, he then appeared at an image of a grocery store, still miles above ground. Acting as if he were in a television commercial, he pushed a shopping cart full of strategically placed food items – a box of pancake mix, a pineapple, a mesh bag of oranges, and a bottle of pop. Ending up at the cashier, where there was no one else, he held out his tab near the cash register. “Again, I’m transferr
ing my value to the grocery store. This cashier tells me that all this food costs thirty four bitcoins. I’ll transfer it now.” He clicked onto his tab and looked at its tiny screen. Satisfied with his delivery, he nodded to himself.
Zapping himself back into position opposite Demus, he continued his earnest, spot-on reporting of the new value system. “Give it a try. When you go home, or when you wake up, you’ll find a tab device on a table. Everywhere you go seeking something – water, food, or heat – you’ll find a recorder. This tiny thing looks like a panel made of film. It might be in many places in your house, it might be at a cashier machine in a store, or in the control room at a power plant. We’ll set them all up for you. Here, you can transfer your value on your tab. This bitcoin paradigm will revolutionize the entire world. This will become the world’s common currency. For bitcoins cannot be stored like a wasteful pile of gold coins, but rather can only be traded to a willing buyer. Create value, and you’ll become rich. Go for it!”
He turned to Indie. “That’s it for me.”
Indie radiated with pride. Her three colleagues were delivering their pitches smoothly and with conviction. Surely, she thought, the people of Earth would realize how much their lives would improve in three short years. At this rate, the Liberators would become gods.
She said, “That’s about it for now. Before we go, we need a Mortal to be our living, breathing link between ourselves and the general population of North America. This position will be given an honorable title: Supreme Liaison. Applications must be submitted to us by midnight tonight. This lucky individual will be attending all our debates and petitions, right up here with us.”
“So if you’re afraid of heights, don’t apply!” yelled out Regi.
Indie waved her hand at him dismissively, humoring him. “Not to worry. Under our power, you’ll never be in danger up high in the sky with us. Now, here’s the job description, and I’ll read it out.”
She cleared her throat for effect. “Must be able to articulate clearly and concisely philosophical, metaphysical, economic, and mathematical principles. And applicants must be under the age of twenty-seven years of age as of five p.m. Eastern Time yesterday. You’ll be subject to a rigorous interview, live in front of millions of people on the North American continent. So you must be able to adjust to a lifetime of sudden power, fame, and fortune.”
Indie smiled one more time. “Talk to you at ten a.m. Eastern Time tomorrow. All applicants will be notified prior to this. All selected applicants must make themselves available as of that time. Good luck.”
With that final statement, the thousands of giant screens hovering over all major cities of North America disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Chapter Eight
As if on cue, thousands of magic mirrors materialized throughout the sky, all over North America, from Panama City, Panama to Yellowknife, Canada.
Indie’s face appeared, exhibiting expressions of relief and eagerness. “Good morning, Mortals, with apologies to those of you residing in the Atlantic and Newfoundland time zones, where it’s now afternoon. We’re ready to start interviewing our successful candidates.”
She paused, as Regi, Demus, and Justica looked on. “We’ve selected four outstanding individuals to interview for the position of Supreme Liaison. Thank you to the rest of you who applied. It was most difficult to sort through the hundreds of applications we had received. This confirms that Mortals have so much to offer in partnership and camaraderie.”
She glanced around, obviously enjoying her power. “I won’t waste your time. These four are; Luis Castillo, twenty-three years of age from Mexico City, Mexico. He holds a doctor of mathematics from the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, and he won the top mathematics awards for his study of fractal theory. Radu Anghel, twenty-two years of age from Washington, D.C., is an economist with the World Bank Group and responsible for multi-national economic development. Amanda Fullerton, also twenty-two, is from San Francisco, California. She is a master’s student at the Travers Department of Political Science at the University of Berkeley. She won the Minerva Goldsmith Fellowship for Public Policy. And finally, Daniel Bilodeau, twenty-five years of, is from Montréal, Quebec, Canada. He is a doctor of philosophy at Université de Montréal and the winner of the William James Prize for the best research paper.”
One at a time, as the names were announced, the four faces of the candidates appeared on the giant screens. All looked eager; Daniel Bilodeau appeared nervous, as well.
Justica intervened. “Don’t worry, through our magic, we’ve ensured instantaneous translation based upon the primary language preference in the region in which you live.”
“Thank you, Justica,” Indie acknowledged. “The interviews will begin in the order I have enunciated. We will not operate under false pretences. We have certain moral and philosophical beliefs that you’ll hear throughout our new relationship. As stated by a very wise man, a former President of the United States, John Adams, ‘I agree with you that in politics the middle way is none at all.’”
Indie beamed as she anticipated the first interview. “I’ll start. Luis, the planet’s in crisis. The Maldive Islands disappeared under the seas several years ago. Many of Earth’s once revered species, such as elephants, jaguars, giraffes, and rhinoceroses have disappeared from the wild and are only available in captivity. There are thousands of heat-related deaths among humans worldwide annually. India and Pakistan were nearly at nuclear war, before we intervened. Last year, almost 634,000 humans died as a result of war, rebellion, or insurrection. What’s worse, last year 5.1 million people have died from lack of supply of the most basic needs – water or food. Moreover, the planet’s economic policies have largely failed. The average global unemployment rate is now twenty-three percent. There have been reports of widespread riots in most of the world’s most populous countries, with rapid turnover of government as citizens of democracies can’t figure out who to blame. Over half of the world’s major economies have been in recession for the past five years.” She glanced at the perplexed image of Luis on the screen. “What would you do, if you had supreme power to influence your colleagues around the globe, to fix this mess?”
Stunned, Luis made a grimace. Chuckling nervously, he said, “Is this an application for the position of God?”
The four wizards laughed, easing Luis’ anxiety.
“Wow. What a tall order,” he said, rubbing his neck. He rolled his eyes, perplexed. He took a deep breath, and said, “I’d venture the over-arching problem is the collapse of the capitalist system.”
The four wizards leaned in closely. “Wait,” Indie said, holding up her hand. “Go on.”
Emboldened, Luis said, “The tools of productivity are concentrated into the hands of the few who don’t have a vested interest in the health and well-being of the planet. What you have here,” he spread his arms out wide, “is a stinging repudiation of the principles of which a capitalistic society is based. That’s why you have a global ecology crisis. That’s why you have widening income disparity.”
“And your solution is…?” Regi asked.
“Redistribution. The wealth that’s so jealously guarded by our ruling class needs to be returned to our lower classes. With this wealth in their hands, they’ll meet more of their basic needs, thus generating more demand throughout the world. I mean real demand, like food, electricity, shelter.”
“Classic Marxism,” Demus grunted, as if discussing something unpleasant. He quoted Marx, “‘When commercial capital occupies a position of unquestioned ascendancy, it everywhere constitutes a system of plunder.’”
Luis’ eyes widened. “Then you do know his theories. But –”
Regi said, “Didn’t Milton Friedman, an esteemed economist, say ‘Freedom in economic arrangements is itself a component of freedom broadly understood, so economic freedom is an end unto itself… Economic freedom is also an indispensable means toward the achievement of political freedom.’”
“Amen to
that,” Indie agreed. “Radu, why don’t you jump in now?”
A shy-looking, startlingly beautiful woman of Indian descent appeared on the screen. “I’m so glad you brought up the prospect of balance. Indeed, the most successful economies have always been those which have mixed economies, in which capitalism and socialism is blended together. Each country has a different degree, of course.”
“Wait a minute,” Indie interrupted, “Since when did we advocate a middle-of-the-road approach?”
Radu appeared taken back, pointing at Regi. “Well, this guy advocated economic freedom.”
“Go on.”
“In order to have true economic freedom, you need a measure of government in order to set the rules for the game.” She brightened, finding her confidence. “Yes, you appeared to be passionate about games. As you know, games need rules in order to ensure everyone a level playing field.”
“I like her analogy,” Justica observed.
Radu nodded euphorically. “Exactly. Governments are there to referee economic development. They cultivate rules of bidding, ensure that the law of contract is followed, and create adequate disclosure to investors.” She glanced around, seeking approval.
Indie leaned in. “And can you give us an example of a successful mixed economy country or economic zone?”
Radu thought it over. “Well, there are the Scandinavian countries, Sweden, Norway, Finland, and Denmark.”
“Whoa,” Indie held out her hand, “Time out.” She waggled her finger at Radu. “Recently, Norway, your example of a utopian, social democratic country, experienced a government deficit of seventy-four percent of gross domestic product and it has thirty-two percent unemployment.”
The Four Kings Page 3