Electronic Gags

by Kudakwashe Muzira

  Kyle became attentive. He knew a good idea when he heard one.

  “The zebra must also pass through a territory with armed poachers and pit traps. If a lion comes directly behind the zebra, the zebra can kick the lion and earn points. At the banks of the crocodile-infested river, the zebra can earn points if it drinks water without getting caught.”

  “And the zebra won’t be on its own,” Kyle said with enthusiasm. “It will be part of a herd of zebras and two or more players can play the game, racing towards the destination. The zebra can also duck predators by getting in the middle of the herd.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s great Freddie.”

  “I will bring you wildlife films about seasonal migrations of herbivores in the African Savanna.”

  “If I succeed in making this wildlife game I will be a millionaire.”

  “When you become rich, don’t forget who gave you the idea.”

  * * * * *

  Professor Reed arrived home to a warm dinner of roast chicken with mashed potatoes and peas, his wife’s special.

  “How was the Cabinet meeting, darling?” Mrs Reed asked.

  “They all laughed at me when I told them my idea,” he whined. “I will prove them wrong.”

  “I know, honey,” Mrs Reed said, supportive as ever. “And when your invention succeeds, the supreme leader will award you with the Golden Order of Merit and enter your name into the Hall of Heroes.”

  Ward had awarded only three men with the Golden Order of Merit and Professor Reed wanted to be the fourth. All the ministers who had laughed at him in Cabinet would watch with envy as President Ward awarded him with the Golden Order of Merit.

  Reed ate the dessert and went into his study to start making his electronic gag. Although he liked to call his idea an invention, the professor knew that the electronic gag was not exactly an invention but a combination of five existing inventions: GPS tracking, cell tracking, voice recognition, speech recognition and electroshock weaponry.

  He remained in the study till the early hours of morning, making the world’s first ever electronic gag.

  * * * * *

  After three days of hiding in his grandmother’s house, Freddie realized the CIB was not looking for him. No one had come to his mother’s place looking for him and he had not appeared on TV or in newspapers as a wanted person. Opposing the government was a serious crime in the Ten Districts. If the regime was looking for him it would have used all the means at its disposal to find him. Michael had not snitched on him. Michael had his faults but he was not a snitch.

  Freddie decided to visit Michael’s mother and tell her what happened to her son.

  “Thanks for taking care of me, Grandma Nicole,” Freddie said. “It’s now time for me to face the world.”

  “So soon? Wait a little more.”

  “If they were looking for me, my face would be on TV,” Freddie said. “Michael didn’t snitch on me. He―”

  “Don’t you dare praise that troublesome boy in front of me.”

  “Sorry grandma. I will see you later.”

  Under her worried gaze, he went out. His heart raced when he walked through the gate. Maybe the CIB was waiting for him in the street. His stomach turned when he saw a stranger walking in his direction. He went to the other side of the road and was relieved to note that the stranger paid no attention to him.

  A seven-minute walk took him to the doorstep of Michael’s mother. He knocked the door and she came out and looked at him with coldness that he mistook for grief.

  “May I come in, Miss Wright?”

  “What do you want?” she hollered.

  “I came here to tell you about Michael,” Freddie said. “We were together when the CIB arrested him.”

  “How did you escape?’ she shouted. “I visited Michael yesterday at the maximum security prison and I asked him the same question. At first he tried to defend you but when I continued questioning him, he began to have doubts. He said the CIB came in just after you left.”

  “Miss Wright, are you accusing me of betraying Michael?” Freddie asked angrily.

  “How did you manage to escape when the CIB arrested everyone else? Tell me, Freddie.”

  “Miss Wri―”

  “I know the CIB sent you to investigate me. Go and tell them that I know nothing about my son’s group.”

  “Michael is like a brother to me, Miss Wright. I would never do such a thing to him.”

  “Get out of my house!”

  Freddie walked away, unsure whether to feel sad or angry. How could she accuse him of betraying Michael? Freddie knew she was spreading the word that he was a CIB informer. Soon the whole neighborhood would be whispering behind his back. He had to clear his name and the only way to do that was to free Michael. But how could he free him when he was in jail, accused of high treason by the world’s cruelest dictatorship?

  Trying to answer the difficult question, Freddie walked to his mother’s house.

  His mother, Melissa Young, was both happy and worried to see him. She hadn’t seen him since the day the CIB arrested Michael. Grandma Nicole had told her not visit while Freddie was in hiding.

  “Thank God you are okay,” she said, hugging him. “But why did you come out so early?”

  “Don’t worry, mom,” Freddie assured. “If they were looking for me, my face would be on TV and in newspapers.”

  “I hope you are right, Freddie,” she said.

  “Michael’s mother thinks I am an informer,” Freddie whined. “She believes I sold her son to the government.”

  “I know,” she said. “I heard rumors about her accusations.”

  “Mom, I love Michael like my own brother. I would never―”

  “I know, Freddie,” she said. “I know you didn’t do it.”

  “I have to clear my name,” he declared.

  “Don’t invite more trouble to yourself. Leave District One. Go back to the wildlife refuge. Life won’t be the same here for you. No one will confront you for fear of the government, but everyone will shun you.” She coughed. “I quit the dressmaking club.”

  “Why? You love the club.”

  “I didn’t like the way the other women looked at me. I even heard whispers. They believe I am the mother of a CIB informer. I think I have to leave this neighborhood.”

  “Mom, I’m sorry. I wish I had―”

  “You wish you had listened to me and stopped hanging out with Michael?”

  “Yes,” was his barely audible reply.

  “Freddie, how many times did I tell you to end your friendship with Michael?” She pointed at his forearm “How did you get that scar?”

  Freddie looked at the childhood scar on his forearm. He got it when he fell from a peach and broke his hand. He and Michael had been caught stealing peaches from a neighbor’s orchard at night. Freddie didn’t want to steal the peaches but Michael had been persuasive. It wasn’t right for one man to have so many peaches whilst his neighbors were wanting, Michael had reasoned. The peaches were rotting and falling to the ground; the owner of the orchard wasn’t going to feel the loss of twenty peaches.

  “And how did you get the scar on your forehead?”

  Freddie swallowed and looked away from his mother. He got the scar fighting after Michael insulted two boys at the shopping mall.

  “I warned you many times about Michael but you didn’t listen.” She glared at him, imagining how hard she would have spanked him if he was still a small a boy. “Don’t do anything silly like visiting Michael in prison. Go back to the wildlife refuge.”

  “Mom, I can’t go now. I have to clear my name.”

  Melissa frowned, telling herself that if he was still a minor, she would have grounded him for a week. “Don’t be silly Freddie. What use is a good name when you are dead? The only way to prove your innocence is to confess to high treason, get arrested and die with Michael.”

  “Mom...”

  “Freddie, go back to the wildlife refug
e. I would rather have you alive. Promise me you won’t do anything silly.”

  “I promise.”

  Freddie left his mother’s house and walked to his girlfriend’s home two streets away. He found her on the verandah, cleaning the front windows.

  “Hey baby girl,” he said. “You don’t look very happy to see me.”

  “How are you, Freddie?” she said without looking at him.

  “Freddie? What happened to darling? That’s not the kind of reception a man expects from his woman after three weeks without seeing each other.”

  She put her hands on her waist. “Freddie, I think we should stop seeing each other.”

  “What?”

  “I need some time.”

  “Oh I get it,” Freddie said with a sigh. “Michael’s mother is your mom’s friend and she told your mom what she thinks happened the day the CIB arrested Michael. And when your mother told you, you believed her.”

  Tiffany turned away. She couldn’t look at him.

  “Tiffany, do you believe I betrayed Michael?” Freddie pleaded. “You of all people?”

  She summoned the courage to look him in the eyes. “I know the CIB forced you to do what you did. I just need some time to think over the matter.”

  “Tiff―”

  “Please Freddie, don’t say anything more. I’m sorry it came to this.”

  “Did your mom force you to dump me?” he asked, walking towards her.

  “No it was my decision,” she said firmly, retreating from him. “Goodbye Freddie.”

  “Goodbye Tiffany.” He walked away without turning back, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

  Chapter 2

  All Cabinet members rose from their seats when the supreme leader of the Ten Districts of America entered, shadowed by his bodyguard, Assistant Police Commissioner Evans.

  “Please take your seats, patriots,” President Ward said.

  “Thank you, Patriot President,” they chorused and sat down.

  This was a routine Cabinet meeting. On Mondays, President Brandon Ward met his ministers at ten o’clock.

  “Minister of State Security, tell us about the security situation in the country,” the president ordered.

  “Long live President Ward, the supreme leader of the nation!” Collins shouted, waving his fist.

  “Long live!” all the members of the Cabinet responded, waving back.

  “Long live our revolution!”

  “Long live!”

  “Patriot President, the situation has returned to normal,” Collins said with a well-measured voice. “I had a meeting with the CIB director-general on Thursday. We haven’t received any intelligence about illegal political gatherings. It appears the rebel group was in its formative stage. The CIB is looking for more leads.”

  “Minister of Interior, brief us,” the president ordered.

  “Long live Patriot Ward, our supreme leader!” Campbell shouted.

  “Long live!”

  “Long live our republic!”

  “Long live.”

  “The police haven’t found evidence of more rebel action. The police commissioner assured me that all police units are on high alert.”

  “Anyone who has anything to tell Cabinet can now speak,” President Ward said.

  “What will happen to the rebels we arrested, Your Excellence?” Campbell asked.

  “We will execute them,” the supreme leader said with enthusiasm, as if he was speaking about the slaughter of chicken for a feast. “But we shall keep them alive for a month or two to give the impression that we are investigating the matter and giving them a fair trial. I will give you the dates for their execution… Anyone else with something to say?”

  Professor Reed was about to speak when Dr Adsila Kirk, the Finance Minister, shouted slogans and started a monologue about what she was doing in preparation for the celebrations of the birthday of the president’s wife. No one interrupted Dr Kirk. Everyone in the Cabinet respected the Finance Minister. Adsila Kirk was one of President Ward’s most trusted advisors. She was a learned economist who had kept the economy of the Ten Districts going despite Ward regime’s rampant corruption and mismanagement. Of the ministers who headed the key ministries of Defense, State security, Interior, Foreign Affairs, Information and Finance, Dr Kirk was the only one who didn’t come from Subdistrict One of District One, the president’s home area. She was the only woman and only Native American in the Cabinet.

  “Long live, His Excellence President Brandon Ward, the leader of our revolution!” Professor Reed shouted as soon as Dr Kirk finished speaking.

  “Long live!”

  “Long live our republic!”

  “Long live!”

  “Your Excellence, the champion of our revolution and the guarantor of our sovereignty, I thank you for this opportunity to speak.”

  President Ward suppressed a smile. Champion of our revolution... guarantor of our sovereignty. If there was one thing the supreme leader liked, it was praise and Professor Reed was good at showering him with praises. It was Professor Reed who gave Brandon Ward the title supreme leader of the nation.

  “Last week, I spoke about a new invention I call the electronic gag. After many sleepless nights―”

  Some ministers, led by Campbell and Collins, began to protest.

  “Let him speak,” ordered President Ward, who was still basking in the Reed’s praises.

  “After many sleepless nights, I managed to make my first electronic gag.” He opened his briefcase and took out the device.

  “It looks like a dog collar,” mocked Collins.

  “That’s precisely how it works. The electronic gag combines the following technologies.” He counted his fingers. “Voice recognition, speech recognition, GPS tracking, cell tracking and electroshock weaponry. With this instrument, the state shall know the whereabouts of every citizen and what he is saying.”

  The supreme leader became more attentive. The professor’s idea was beginning to enchant him.

  “Reed, don’t waste our time,” Senior Minister Christopher Ward said. “We have a country to run. We have no time for your boyish ideas.”

  “Let him speak,” the supreme leader silenced his brother.

  “Thank you, Your Excellence,” Professor Reed said. “Voice recognition is the digitalization of―”

  “Reed!” barked the supreme leader.

  Campbell and Collins exchanged smiles, thinking the president had had enough of Reed’s idea.

  “Yes, Your Excellence,” Professor Reed stammered.

  “Speak in language we all understand, not this technical jargon.”

  “Please forgive me, Your Majesty―I mean Your Excellence,” Professor Reed said, deliberately making the mistake to address the president like a king. He knew that although President Ward never said it, he saw himself as the king of the Ten Districts of America.

  “Your Majesty?” the supreme leader said, stifling a smile. “Reed, you flatter me. Go on with your lecture.”

  “Voice recognition is technology that recognizes the voice of a speaker and speech recognition is the technology that recognizes what the speaker is saying.” The professor looked at the supreme leader to check whether he was satisfied with the definitions. “We configure the electronic gag to recognize a citizen’s voice. If possible, Your Excellence, I need a human subject to fit with the electronic gag so that I can demonstrate how it works.”

  “Who is willing to volunteer for the demonstration?” President Ward asked his ministers.

  “We can’t use the ministers, Your Excellence. The electronic gag administers nasty electric shocks into its subject when he speaks without airtime. I was hoping to get a prisoner.”

  “We have lots of prisoners in our jails,” President Ward said. “Campbell, prisons fall under your ministry. Get us a prisoner ASAP.”

  “Yes, Your Excellence.” Glaring at Reed, Campbell phoned the commissioner of the prison service. “I need a prisoner delivered to Cabinet House right
now... any prisoner. It’s an order from the supreme leader himself.”

  There was silence as the Cabinet waited for the prisoner. The supreme leader smoked a cigar. Campbell and Collins glared at Reed who nervously toyed with his electronic gag.

  The doorbell rang after six minutes.

  “Evans, open the door,” the supreme leader ordered his bodyguard.

  Evans quickly opened the door, admitting a senior CIB agent clad in an immaculate suit.

  “There is a prisoner for you outside, Your Excellence,” the agent said.

  “Bring him in,” ordered the president.

  The CIB agent walked out of the boardroom and returned with a handcuffed Michael Wright. “He is the leader of the rebel group that calls itself the Freedom Front, Your Excellence.”

  “He will do,” Brandon Ward said. “His group’s treason prompted Professor Reed to bring his electronic gag idea to the Cabinet and he is a fitting subject to the professor’s experiment. Professor, we are all waiting to see your electronic gag in action.”

  “Thank you, Your Excellence,” Professor Reed said before he turned to the CIB agent. “Bring the prisoner here.”

  The agent shoved the terrified Michael to the professor.

  “What’s your name?” Reed asked.

  “Michael,” was the nervous reply.

  The professor opened his laptop and put the electronic gag on Michael’s neck. “Say one two three four,” he ordered Michael.

  “One two three four.”

  Reed turned to the president. “My supreme leader, I am going to make the prisoner say certain words, which I will record. These words will help the system create and memorize the prisoner’s voiceprint. There is a wireless connection between the gag and the computer.” He turned to Michael. “Calm down, Michael. I won’t hurt you, okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Professor Reed gave Michael a piece of paper and made him read it whilst he recorded, checking the voiceprint on the laptop. “I have configured the electronic gag to recognize the subject’s voice,” he said after seven minutes.

  “And how will that help the Ten Districts of America?” Christopher Ward asked, to the laughter of Collins and Campbell.