The Four Kings

by Scott Spotson

  Amanda patiently waited for her turn. “I must warn the Liberators that the Patriots are calling for demonstrations in the major cities of each country. They say they’re networking with colleagues in AJI, AFRI, EURO, and SUDA, to have worldwide parades and marches. They’re warning they may not be able to control their members, and any torching, looting, and damages resulting will be squarely at the blame of the Liberators. They’re calling upon the Liberators to vacate office immediately, and if the demands are not complied with, they’ll coordinate ‘Liberation Hour’ to occur at the same time, all around the world, to institute major riots.”

  “When?” asked Indie, horrified.

  “Three days from now, at nine a.m. Eastern Time,” Amanda reported with a glum face. “It seems designed to take advantage of the most likely time citizens would be awake in all the major industrialized countries.”

  Indie sneered. “Mortals, listen to me carefully. We Liberators are here to work with you. Working against us will only worsen your living standards. We’re here to advance your civilization. We’ve no intention of failing our responsibilities. In fact, since there are none of us on the ground, you can’t harm us. You’re only harming your fellow citizens. Please re-think this, and join us in overthrowing the plague that has been stalking the major economies of the world in the last three years.” She took a long, deep breath, and then continued. “Remember, it wasn’t long ago that unemployment reached record levels, causing a phenomenon which you now call the Great Blight, to spread to the entire world. Countries such as Japan and Russia haven’t been able to feed all of their people. It’s the only time in history where the generation aged fifty to sixty-five has more jobs collectively, than the younger generation aged twenty to fifty. You all had riots, where Washington, D.C. burned for three straight days, causing the temporary emergency evacuation of the President of the United States and his Cabinet, which constituted the most incompetent administration the former nation of the United States of America has ever faced.”

  Amanda held her breath as Indie continued to speak into the screens.

  “Remember, in China, the government was overthrown and replaced with another Republic, one even more draconian than the previous one. All major cities in China were subject to a curfew every night. As a result of the arrival of the Liberators, in the past six days, all citizens of China have been free to go out at will.”

  There was applause from the three other Liberators. Demus stood up and clapped the loudest. Amanda impulsively wanted to cheer them on, but decided to stay neutral.

  Indie wasn’t through, though. “Remember, India and Pakistan were on the brink of nuclear war, and the Americans and Russians both sent in fighter planes invading these two nations’ air space in order to dissuade them from launching. Had we not acted when we did, there could’ve been multiple apocalypses on Earth. Not only would millions have died from the immediate nuclear attacks, but hundreds of thousands more could’ve died slow, agonizing deaths from the radioactive fallout.”

  All the three Liberators were now on their feet, applauding and cheering what would go down in history as Indie’s ‘Remember‘ speech. All this time, the camera had slavishly zoomed in on her at opportune moments, highlighting her emotional resonances.

  Indie’s face remained resolute as she stood up and said, “Remember this. Where there is discord, may we bring harmony. Where there is error, may we bring truth. Where there is doubt, may we bring faith. And where there is despair, may we bring hope.” She paused. “As attributed to former Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher, paraphrasing St. Francis of Assisi.”

  She then sat down, grim.

  Amanda wanted to stand up and join in the adulation, but she settled for a barely restrained grin, knowing fully-well that her visage would be captured on millions of screens.

  The applause went on for about thirty more seconds, as the three remaining Liberators sat down one by one. Demus was grinning directly at Regi, as if they were sharing a sinister secret.

  For a short while, Indie appeared to be alone, pondering off in space. Then she said, “Justica, your report.”

  Justica zapped up her papers in front of her and leaned forward. “Right. Thank you, Indie. I’m pleased to report that in the short two Progress Days we’ve had, along with our accomplices on the ground, to whom we’re grateful, we’ve established twenty new hospitals, thirty-four new community centers, sixty-one outdoor basketball courts, and one hundred and five new football fields…” She caught her breath. “I mean soccer fields.”

  She gazed directly at the cameras. “Amanda has been receiving thousands of requests. We will track them in the order they are received. We’ll establish priority depending on need. Remember, we can supply the facilities – in one minute – but we can’t supply the people. For every new large hospital you receive, generally you’ll need about twelve hundred doctors, eleven thousand staff members and one thousand volunteers. We also can’t duplicate every medical device or supply you need – our magic isn’t sophisticated to that degree. But, your community will have acquired that significant boon in facility space, and it’s up to each community to use the bitcoin revolution to fund all these staff and supplies.”

  Justica glanced around, hoping the Mortals were listening and seeing that they were doing well by them. “Community centers are far easier to run. They all have swimming pools, indoor gyms, weightlifting facilities, and facility rooms. Each community’s to decide how they wish to administer them – but they’re all yours, courtesy of the Liberators.” She beamed. “I’ve had the personal pleasure of seeing thousands of children play, especially in impoverished areas, on the new basketball outdoor courts and soccer fields. Each community’s responsible for maintenance, which is quite low. We’re of the philosophy that more problems in our society can be avoided if we direct provide children with the means to play to their hearts’ content.”

  She shuffled her papers some, and then read on. “Next, we’ll focus on schools and colleges. Further down the road we’ll work on municipal administration buildings. Amanda, and her incredible staff, has been extremely busy organizing your requests and we ask your patience. Even with our magic, where construction is shortened from several months to just one minute each – not even one minute – it takes a lot of planning to figure out where the need’s the greatest.”

  Justica then placed her papers down, looking expectantly at Indie.

  Amanda took the cue. “We’ll take a fifteen minute break and continue the debates. Next up, Demus will talk about our relations with our colleagues from the four other continents, and summarize international affairs.”

  Regi hammed it up for the cameras. “You call this tea party a debate? But seriously, once real choices confront us, you’ll see fireworks here!”

  Amanda sighed and pressed the button. The screen went blank. She needed a strong coffee to soothe her nerves for the next round.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As promised, three days after Debate Day, on all five continents around the world, the Patriots struck back, along with “motley crews” of assorted counter-revolution bands and anarchists.

  Throngs of chanting supporters, in every country, converged upon their capitals, holding giant placards bearing the words in the home language of their country, “Liberators Out!” A few signs blared, “Liberators ≠ Freedom!”

  In Beijing, China, Wei hovered into the air with his fellow Chinese wizards, looking worried. He, along with three other Liberators (one Russian, one Indian, and one Australian), governed the AJI continent. The national police force, now facing desertions and an uncertain funding future due to the two-week old seizure of the national money supply, could only put up feeble resistance to the angry crowds. Bonfires raged around the capital.

  “Look at the Presidential Palace!” one fellow wizard yelled to Wei in Mandarin.

  Wei saw a huge ball of fire about ten kilometres away, eating away at the south wing of the Presidential Palace. He quickly zapped himself
about two hundred metres above the raging fire, and instantly felt the overbearing heat. Moving his hands around, he brought several tons of water cascading down from the heavens, snuffing the inferno out.

  “Keep an eye out!” he yelled in Mandarin to his companions, all of who could clearly hear him kilometres away.

  In Paris, France, hundreds of anarchists chanting “Révolution, maintenant!” and “Liberté, égalité, et fraternité!” surrounded the Louvre. Throwing cobblestones, bricks, pipe bombs, and whatever they could get their hands on, they started breaking the windows of the famed art institution. Sounds of shattering and cries emanated from inside as the stunned national police force, equipped with riot shields, helmets, batons, tear gas canisters, and stun grenades, looked on helplessly.

  “Le Louvre!” Martine, one of the four Liberators governing the EURO region, cried out. “Nous ne pouvons pas leur permettre d’endommager!” [We can’t let them damage it!]

  With a flick of her wrist, she conjured up a formidable, Plexiglas-coated enclosure around the entire art institution. The fire bombs, rocks, and other scraps bounced harmlessly off the barrier, greatly frustrating the raucous crowd.

  “C’est fait!” Martine roared, as she sped through the air, looking around for more signs of unrest.

  Half a world away, in Washington, D.C., Indie and Demus lingered about in the air, monitoring the defiant crowds below. Suddenly, they heard a loud boom, and, acting upon instinct, they disappeared, and then materialized hundreds of feet elsewhere. Indie gasped with horror as a projectile whistled right by where she had last been seen.

  “They’ve found some land-based missiles!” Demus yelled to her, full of rage.

  “How did they get hold of them?” Indie spat out. She was vastly infuriated, and ready for revenge. But she’d resolve to minimize her response. Spotting the crude missile launchers, Indie pointed her fingers, causing the projectiles to blow up one at a time.

  Regi’s irritated voice boomed through, clearly heard by Demus and Indie, who were enjoying the spectacle from their aerial perch. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to stay above the fray and not get involved.” They knew Regi was monitoring the counter-revolutionary movement in Toronto, Canada.

  Indie grinned as she shouted out, “I can’t help it. This is too much fun!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Two weeks post-Liberation

  Things seemed to be stabilizing somewhat, although riots still raged on throughout the world. However, the protests seemed to be dying off gradually since the first day, where hundreds of bystanders had been injured. There were no charges laid, because police forces and courthouses, now subsiding on bitcoins contributed by their respective communities, were now focussed on survival. Only the most severe crimes, such as murder and arson, were still being investigated and prosecuted.

  All governments—federal, state, or municipal—had all run out of paper money, and now were painfully adjusting to the new “bitcoin economy” where they had to continually justify every expense, even a light bulb in a dingy hallway of a courthouse. Millions and millions of government workers around the world were laid off, and only the “visible” jobs such as service counter clerks, police officers, swimming pool administrators, firefighters, garbage collectors, and utility operators managed to prosper in the brave new economy. Every day, for many taxpayer-funded jobs that the public never heard of, but sorely missed once eliminated, millions of consumers frantically rushed to their tabs to “save” their old entitlements. It wasn’t uncommon for a city worker to receive a layoff notice, and then two days later, receive a call back to work, only because the city had suddenly received a fresh dedicated stream of bitcoin revenue for his old job.

  Amanda was still working at her headquarters on South Basin. It was now past seven p.m., yet dozens of staffers were still in their shared offices—no cubicles as the Liberators frowned upon them—diligently processing thousands of petitions, news releases, requests, phone calls, electronic mail messages, economic and international reports, and blueprints that came their way. Her staff had doubled to two hundred, as the demand soared through the roof. She had a huge, spacious private office that overlooked San Francisco Bay, and she loved her surroundings. The office complex, zapped up only two weeks ago, still had that brand-new feel to it.

  The Liberators were certainly ingenious. There were nine “hopping elevators” on each floor which looked like regular elevators, but sped along rapidly “sideways” from one corner of the huge complex to the other. There were nine, because the complex was shaped like a perfect hexagon, with six sides. Three were for transporting from one corner directly to the opposite corner. Then there were six for going along the perimeter of the hexagon, along all six sides, one hopping elevator each. Very efficient, Amanda thought.

  The recruits to the Supreme Liaison’s headquarters were astounding in terms of their qualifications. The Liberators had insisted upon only three hiring rules: all must have university degrees and experience in philosophy, metaphysics, economics, international relations, politics, science, medicine, or commerce; there must be a perfectly balanced gender ratio, that is, for every woman hired, there must be one man; and all must be under the age of twenty-seven, and thus couldn’t turn thirty within three years’ time from the day that the Liberators took power.

  Amanda frowned as she peered over the list of sixty-five approved blueprints for new courthouses in Belize, Guatemala, Mexico, Canada, and the United States. She verified that the blueprints had all the vital information, and then carefully placed them into a pile in a slot in the wall with a nameplate labeled “Justica.” The slot beeped as it digested the papers, then a door slammed shut. Amanda had no idea where the papers headed; all she knew was that eventually Justica would see them. Anytime she wanted to retrieve these papers, she’d dictate what she wanted. Upon hearing the command, the slot would open up again, allowing her to reach inside to pick up these exact papers. It saved her countless hours of having to search for files.

  Suddenly, a figure materialized right beside Amanda. Startled, she glanced over to see Demus, wearing his typical red-themed shirt. This time, he proudly displayed wide bands of alternating hues of grayish-red and fire brick red. It was a short-sleeved tight shirt, with the trim hugging his considerable biceps. He was sitting on top of her desk, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

  “You scared me,” Amanda said, holding her hand over her heart.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I just came by to see how you’re doing.”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” She felt annoyed. What was he doing here?

  “Working hard, I see.”

  She sighed. “There’s so much stuff to do. This is like a mini-United Nations in here.”

  He chuckled. “But better.”

  She turned her head away from him. “I’m supposed to stay neutral. But, yes, I’m excited about the future.” She adopted a dreamier trance. “What if we had the power – to really change the world for the better?” She glanced at him. “What if we could eliminate poverty?”

  Demus nodded thoughtfully. “That’s one goal of the Liberators. We’ll get there.”

  Amanda stared at him with a hint of defiance on her face. “What are you doing here?”

  Demus pretended to be hurt at the suggestion he wasn’t welcome. “This is my headquarters.”

  “No. It is the headquarters of the Supreme Liaison. I report to the people of North America.”

  Demus shrugged. “Same thing.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “The goals of the people are the goals of the Liberators. We’re one and the same. The only difference is that we have magic and you don’t,” he told her.

  Amanda felt a little offended, but her curiosity got the better of her. “Honestly, it’s been so extraordinary, I haven’t had time to sit down and really think. What’s this magic? How did you get it?”

  She saw a gleam in Demus’ eyes. “You really want to know?”

  She hesitated.
“Yes, I do.”

  “Make it so.” He snapped his fingers above her head. In a split-second, they both disappeared from the headquarters of the Supreme Liaison.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A startled Amanda glanced around, knowing she had instantaneously entered new surroundings. The air felt cool and moist on her skin. As she had been sitting just a moment ago, she would’ve fallen onto her backside with the chair now gone, but Demus clasped her hand just in time, steadying her. She stood up straight, a little shaken.

  They were standing on a gleaming marble floor, in the middle of a huge cavernous enclave. The sun’s rays filtered through, giving the gigantic space an aura of natural light. The area seemed to be half a mile wide, with cave-like formations making up the sides – only that the walls weren’t earthen or rock; they gleamed like sheared glass.

  She was enchanted. What was this material?

  She craned her neck to look up at the ceiling, which seemed about twenty stories high although there were no structures to measure anything like ‘stories’. She gasped.

  Although the ceiling was very far up, she thought she observed a rain forest canopy, with its palm leaves, woody vines, and Balizia elegans tree crowns.

  “Where do you think we are?” Demus slyly asked her, observing her closely.

  “I’m – I’m not sure,” said Amanda, still drinking in the spectacle surrounding her. She kept her gaze on the ceiling. “It looks like we’re in a rain forest or something,” she said.

  “We are.”

  “But these crystals over there.” She pointed toward the gleaming walls. “They look like ice.”

  “Yes,” Demus said. “You got it right. These are all crystals.”