“I know,” Radu insisted, “but it’s just a cycle, and they’ve been very successful in the past…”
Regi spoke out. “Well, that was then, and this is now.”
Indie glowered at Radu and said, “Next candidate is Amanda Fullerton.”
Amanda, sporting long brown hair and a pair of thin-rimmed spectacles, appeared flushed. She spoke with an excited pitch. “I think I know what you’re talking about,” she said, looking at Indie. “First, you said the middle way is not an option.” She next looked at Regi. “Then you said that economic freedom was paramount, and in fact, leads to political freedom.”
“She’s a good listener,” Justica noted.
Amanda smiled at the compliment. “I’ll start with a quote.” She shifted her eyes upwards and to her right. “I hope I can remember it. By Søren Kierkegaard. He said, ‘The government that governs the least, governs the best.’”
“Very good,” Demus said, “It’s actually ‘That government is best which governs least.’ But you’re forgiven. Go on.”
“All right. Now Ayn Rand…”
Knowingly, all four wizards straightened tall and listened intently.
Amanda continued. “She argued that government’s authority is based upon only one premise, to protect a man from force. Government can’t initiate its own force.”
“I like her,” Demus said with a smile.
Amanda continued, clearly thrilled with the notes of resonance, “Ayn Rand argued that taxes, in fact, are a form of force against its own citizens.” She looked down at her notes, seemingly embarrassed at her inability to spout off quotes from the top of her head. “She says here, ‘In a fully free society, taxation – or, to be exact, payment for governmental services – would be voluntary. Since the proper services of a government – the police, the armed forces, the law courts – are demonstrably needed by individual citizens and affect their interests directly, the citizens would (and should) be willing to pay for such services.’”
Suddenly, there was a spontaneous round of applause from the four wizards. Amanda looked around, smiling, but uncertain she was actually being showered with praise.
Indie cautioned, “We still have one more applicant to go. We must show restraint.”
Amanda said, “Thank you. So when you abolished the paper currency, you were adopting another of Ayn Rand’s principles. She had this to say, ‘Economic power is exercised by means of a positive, by offering men a reward, an incentive, a payment, a value.’”
Excited, Demus spurted out, “I’ve heard enough. Let’s hear from the last applicant.”
An image of Daniel, with high cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, stubble on his lower face, and a thoughtful expression, materialized and spoke in French.
“I’ve heard all about the economic theories. But I offer more. What you need is not discrete models but rather a plane of transcendental thought.”
The four wizards exhibited puzzled expressions; two sat back as if repelled.
“I’m well-suited to offer metaphysical analysis, by probing deep into the mechanisms and structures that give rise to certain social outcomes, and accordingly, develop patterns of inference.”
“Huh?” Demus raised his hands up into the air, “Who’s this guy?”
“He’s obviously very well-educated,” said Justica, “but he needs to work on his communication skills.”
Indie took control of the discussion. “We’ve interviewed our four candidates. I sense we’re close to a decision?” She looked at her colleagues, who all nodded in turn.
“Demus?”
Demus pointed his finger at the screen in front of him, cocking his head. “I vote for Amanda Fullerton.”
“Regi?”
“Same here.”
“Justica?”
Justica nodded. “Affirmed.”
Indie rose, as Amanda’s beaming face filled the screens. “Amanda, congratulations. Since we filled this position so quickly, you are the first Supreme Liaison in the history of the planet. Together, with your expertise and wise counsel, we will advance Earth forward by a hundred years.” She reflected. “I mean, North America. You’ll work closely with the other four Supreme Liaisons who will all have been picked around now. We’ll provide instantaneous translation services, of course.”
Amanda blushed. “I don’t know what to say. My gosh, I can’t believe this.”
Demus held up his hand. “That’s enough. We’ll supply you with dozens of our colleagues, to assist you in every way possible. We’ll give you a headquarters, the best on the continent. We’ll confer all the bitcoins you need to hire top-notch staff. Don’t hesitate to ask.”
Indie stood up again. “The meeting is now adjourned. The first order of business tomorrow morning at ten a.m. Eastern Time for our Supreme Liaison is…” She smiled. “…to oversee our first ever public Games Day.”
Chapter Nine
Twenty-two-year-old Amanda Fullerton was chagrined. Immediately after the Liberators’ selection of her as Supreme Liaison, her smartphone rang incessantly for fifteen minutes, before she finally turned it off. She’d managed to intercept a phone call from her mother, demanding a meeting at her home, but she refused to take any more calls after that. The call readout indicated several news organizations trying to reach her. How did they get a hold of her number?
At least one reporter had somehow managed to find her as she walked to her car. It was a meager second-hand sedan she’d only been able to afford by taking out yet another student loan. As the reporter identified himself and held a microphone to her chin, a startled Amanda slammed the car door shut and drove off.
Eventually, she pulled up outside her parents’ house in the Outer Sunset district of San Francisco. Astounded, she spotted ten reporters congregated on her parents’ front lawn. Feeling guilty, she saw her father, Trevor, shout at the reporters, admonishing them to get off his property. While a few of the media looked sheepish at their invasion of the family’s privacy, most held firm and refused to budge. When they saw Amanda get out of her car, they all ran up to her, shoving microphones into her personal space.
“No comment,” Amanda muttered, unable to be heard in the din, as she persisted in walking through the scrum.
“You all leave my daughter alone!” yelled Trevor, “Or I’ll call the police and report an assault!”
Several of the reporters shrank back in order to allow Amanda an open path to her parents’ home.
Closing and then locking the door behind him, Trevor took his daughter’s hand and grumbled, “Might as well talk in the living room. We’ll be out of sight.” Inside, Amanda saw her mother shutting the Venetian blinds and spreading out the drapes to provide double protection for a family whose privacy zone had just been invaded.
Adam, her twenty-four year old brother, tall and lanky, was dressed in an off-shade red cotton shirt and jeans. He was an attorney, but had ditched his formal attire for this impromptu family meeting.
Amanda’s mother, Maggie Fullerton, walked up to her with an expression of concern. She clasped her hands with Amanda’s. “Are you okay?”
Now Amanda was starting to feel the reality of becoming an instant celebrity. Her family was worried about her. The family was closing in upon itself, to protect its own.
“Have you lost your mind, Amanda?” Adam yelled out, obviously peeved. Despite hearing the anger in his voice, Amanda detected compassion on his face.
“Shush, don’t say that,” Trevor cautioned him, holding out his arm as he seated himself at the family table.
“Let Amanda talk,” her mother said as her eyes flashed impatience.
Amanda seated herself at the side of the table, facing opposite Adam, allowing her parents their customary positions of authority at the far edges of the table.
“Look,” Amanda used her hands expressively, “I know you think I’m crazy. But I do think they want to help us.”
“Amanda,” her father began, “these four people basically staged a coup d’état.”
“Right,” Adam said, “they’ve absolutely no basis for this act of war. And they propose to govern all three countries. The United States, Canada, and Mexico.”
“And Central America, too,” her mother pointed out.
“Right. Poof! All these democratically-elected governments gone, just like that!” Adam snapped his fingers.
Maggie held out her arms to assert her point. “What I’m concerned about is Amanda. Who’s going to protect her? Where’s she going to work? There may be millions…” Her voice trailed off. “…who’d like to harm her. I don’t want her to get hurt.”
Adam protested. “Amanda, it’s very clear, you’ve got to resign. Tell them to go to hell.”
“Well?” Trevor asked.
Amanda stood up, glaring at each family member. No one was letting her talk. “Stop it, all of you!”
The doorbell rang out repeatedly.
“Ignore it,” Trevor said. “I already turned the phones off.”
Amanda exhaled. “Right after the Liberators concluded their meeting, one of them, Justica, just appeared right beside me.”
“Is this magic real? Are you sure?” Adam asked, speaking in awe.
“Let Amanda talk,” Maggie said exasperatedly.
“Thank you.” Amanda gave her brother a dirty look. “Justica…”
“The girl in blue?” Adam interjected. “The Spanish one?”
“Yes. Justica came over to see me, just as I was leaving my new office. Mum, you’re right about my safety. Justica said she’s put a spell over me so that no one can hurt me now.”
Adam’s deep blue eyes sparkled with amazement. “Let me try.” He stood up, and tentatively landed a soft punch on Amanda’s shoulder. To his surprise, his fist glanced off an invisible force field around his sister. He looked at his fist in wonder. “Let me try again,” he said. He brought in his fist faster, still careful not to harm Amanda. His fist bounced back slightly, as if he was hitting a sheath of rubber. “Holy shit,” he said.
“She feels nothing?” Trevor asked, glancing at the both of them.
“No,” said Amanda, shaking her head. She was awestruck too, since it’d been the first time she tested out her newfound invulnerability. Pushing her emotions aside, Amanda continued, “So, anyway, Justica told me everything will be like before. I can use my office at Berkeley to interact with them for now. They said eventually, they’ll construct a new place for me, since I’ll need about a hundred staff members.”
“Construct…?” said Maggie, her eyes wide open. “A hundred staff?”
“Okay, okay,” Amanda said testily, “Zap up. Whatever you call it. They may have it over the bay, since there’s very little available land in San Francisco. It’ll be right by the harbor.”
“What are you going to do?” Maggie said, propping herself up on the table with her elbow.
“Basically act like a liaison between the Liberators and us. They have hundreds of reforms in mind. They want me to set up a nerve center, giving them reports as needed. I’ll also be organizing for the Debate Days and Petition Days.”
“I don’t like this, Amanda. You’re copping out. You’re co-operating with the enemy,” Adam said.
“Just a minute,” Trevor thoughtfully said, holding up his arm. He looked down at the table, appearing pensive.
“We may not have a choice,” Maggie said. “These wizards have incredible powers. We’re no match for them.”
“They said they’d only serve for three years,” Trevor added.
“I know! I know…” Adam acted as if he had a brilliant idea.
Trevor nodded his approval.
Adam leaned forward to face his sister, whispering conspiratorially. “Can these hotshots hear what we’re saying?”
“No,” Amanda said.
“Okay, sister. You work with them –” he leaned back, “And you work with us, too.” Trevor held out his hand. “A double agent.”
Maggie appeared worried. “I don’t like the sound of this. What if they punish her?”
Amanda straightened out her back. “I’m pretty sure they won’t. They don’t appear to be vengeful.”
All around the table, the three family members seated opposite Amanda nodded to themselves and to one another, implicitly sealing a family pact.
Maggie took one last look around the table. “It’s all settled, then.” She stared at Amanda. “Amanda, you have our blessing. Just be prepared for a few things.”
“Mom –”
Maggie held out her finger, wrinkles still creasing her brow. “Be prepared to be very unpopular with our people. Be prepared to be hated all over the world.
“And…” she sighed, “be careful, Amanda. Never lose sight of who you really work for. Us.”
Chapter Ten
Games Day was about to begin. Standing in front of a huge grassy field – totally magical, tethered to the sky about half a mile above ground, Amanda apprehensively turned to Demus. All the wizards were still dressed by the colors they were known by – Demus, red; Justica, blue; Regi, yellow; and Indie, purple. All they did was change their styles and patterns every day, adopting different shades of the color – but the one base color remained irrevocably the same.
“I won’t fall all the way down?” Amanda asked, gazing at the edge of the field, which ended into nothingness. She also worried that if she took another step on the artificial plateau, a hole would swallow her, and she’d be screaming all the way to a certain death.
“No,” Demus said with a grin. “All our Mortals who’ve been invited up here are protected by a spell.” He pointed to the edge of the field. “For example, if you choose to jump off there, you’d simply walk among the clouds, just like we do.” He laughed. “Go on, try it.” He gave her a playful shove.
Amanda shuddered at the thought of attempting a sky dive over two thousand feet above the Earth’s crust. “No thanks.”
The three other wizards walked up to them. “Are we ready?” Indie asked, clearly animated.
“Ready,” Demus said.
Indie spread out her arms dramatically. Instantly, dozens of huge screens appeared in the distance, encircling the field of green. All over North America, thousands of gigantic screens appeared over the major towns and cities, affording the citizens of North America a close-up view of the wizards’ antics.
In the far distance, with a buffer zone of empty space of about twenty feet surrounding the field, dozens of unknown wizards appeared, all seeming to be under thirty years old. They hovered in the air, excitedly anticipating the contests ahead.
“Welcome all,” Indie said, “Welcome Mortals of North America and fellow wizards mostly from North America, but also found around the world. Our first Games Day is about to begin!”
“Give ‘em bread and circuses!” Demus whispered to Regi, and they both laughed. Amanda didn’t hear the remark.
Her senses heightened as she observed the dozens of wizards, including the now-familiar four. It was a different world, one she wasn’t accustomed to.
Indie held her arms up and addressed the dozens of wizards in attendance. “For the first game,” she announced, “we have the Spheres of Doom.”
Regi jabbed Demus in his side playfully. “I love this one.”
Indie made a sweeping motion with her hands, dreamily closing her eyes. Instantly, the grassy field disappeared. Amanda gasped at what she saw next.
One hundred silver balls, all humming and rotating, appeared in a neatly fitted grid: ten balls lengthwise and ten balls in the other direction. Each ball appeared to be twenty feet in diameter, and the total area was two hundred feet long and wide. Amanda had no idea how the balls rotated on their own; there seemed to be no set of pins threaded through each ball’s center. Magic, she thought. Each ball was spinning not fast, but not slowly either. She guessed each revolution took about ten seconds. Each ball relentlessly and continually kept rotating, all on different axes opposite to one another.
“Regi, you start,” Indie comm
anded. The thousands of screens scattered in the skies over North America were tracking close-ups of every move. Millions of Americans, Canadians, Mexicans, and others were spellbound, watching the action and hearing every sound.
“Oh boy!” Regi, rubbing his hands together, started at the first available corner. He stood at the edge, about ready to jump on the giant spinning ball closest to him.
“The goal’s very clear,” Indie announced. “The objective of the game is to jump from ball to ball until you reach the corner diagonally opposite. You may start in any corner, but you must ultimately reach the opposite corner. You may go on any ball you wish, but you may only go to the next immediate ball, wherever it may be. There’s no time limit. While there is one best path, there may be more than one track to your destination. If you fall, you may start over on the last ball that you were on. Falls count against you.”
“I know the drill,” Regi sighed, mocking her.
“Yes, but millions of Mortals don’t,” Indie playfully reciprocated. “Now, go!”
“Wait a minute!” Demus cried out. “Why should we wizards have all the fun? Let’s see how a Mortal does it!”
Dozens of wizards circling the spectacle enthusiastically clapped their approval. Even at great distances, the sounds of heavy clapping were broadcast throughout the continent-wide network.
Demus grabbed Amanda, who was standing next to him, and with his magical strength, catapulted her into the air for about fifty feet, to a waiting Regi. Amanda screamed at her sudden predicament, which lasted less than a few seconds. Regi gently retrieved her, and then set her down on the ground. Sheepishly, Regi said, “Sorry.”
Amanda experienced a rush of emotion from the sudden invasion of his touch. One that ignited sparks and flutters all throughout her. What the hell was that? She breathed heavily. Then Regi took her hand, and together they materialized on top of the corner ball that had been the closest.
Gasping, Amanda realized she was standing on top of a giant revolving sphere, metallic to the touch. Solid silver. Surprisingly, despite its shiny surface, the sphere offered good friction to Amanda’s loafers. To her horror, she realized that, standing still, she was now rotating away from the top of the ball, and would possibly fall off and be crushed in between the enormous spheres. Recovering quickly, she darted up the top of the ball, where Regi was still holding her hand.
The Four Kings Page 4