Electronic Gags

by Kudakwashe Muzira

  Freddie wiped tears from his eyes, rang the doorbell and sighed, summoning the courage to face Michael’s mother. She opened the door and her face hardened when she saw him. She had aged a lot since he last saw her. There were bags under her eyes, the lines on her face we deeper and she had stopped dying her hair, revealing its grayness.

  “How are you Miss Wright?”

  Her lips moved but no word passed through them. He could see she was dying to say something but was worried about airtime.

  “I just want to ask about Michael.” He took a ten lucre note from his wallet. “Here is some money to replace the airtime you will waste speaking with me.”

  She didn’t move an inch.

  “Please Miss Wright, take the money and speak with me,” he begged. “For old time’s sake.”

  She grabbed the money and winced when President Ward’s face smiled at her from the banknote. “What do you want, Freddie?”

  “Is Michael still alive?”

  “That is none of your business.”

  “Miss Wright, he is my best friend,” Freddie protested.

  “He was your friend, at least that’s what he thought.”

  “Miss Wright, I didn’t betr―”

  “Did the CIB send you to investigate me?”

  “Please Miss Wright, you are hurting me,” he pleaded. “Michael is like my brother. I didn’t―”

  “Go away, Freddie,” she thundered. “Don’t come back!”

  “Miss―”

  “I said go away!”

  More angry than sad, Freddie went away.

  * * * * *

  Freddie and his mother left for the wildlife refuge just before ten on Monday. The bus stopped after travelling for only two hours of the six-hour journey to the District Ten where the Brandon Ward Wildlife Refuge was located.

  “Why did he stop here?” asked the old woman in front of Freddie. “If the driver wants us to refresh, he should stop in District Four.”

  “Perhaps the bus has broken down,” answered her husband.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the driver said over the intercom, “the time is now two minutes to twelve and at twelve we sing the national anthem.”

  All vehicles on the road had stopped. At twelve everyone stood at attention and sang God Bless the Ten Districts of America. At four past twelve, the driver started the bus and continued with the journey.

  * * * * *

  Professor Reed was a happy man. Things had turned out much better than he expected. Although he was still the Education Minister, his role as NASP’s administrator gave him control of sections of the Ministry of State Security, Ministry of Defense, Ministry of interior and Ministry of Information. Apart from President Ward, Senior Minister Christopher Ward, and Vice President Butler, only Reed had such inter-ministerial control.

  “Darling,” he told his wife at the breakfast table, “you should have seen Collins’s face when I told him to make arrangements for me to get fifty CIB agents for my electronic gag program.” He laughed. “Who would have thought that Collins, the Minister of State Security and the secretary-general of the National Party would one day take orders from me?”

  “Your career is rising, darling.” Mrs Reed returned his smile. “But you must be careful not to step on too many toes on your way up.”

  “Don’t worry darling… I will be careful. If the supreme leader is on my side, who can harm me?” He sipped his coffee. “President Ward invited me to the National Security Committee.” He giggled. “Do you know what this means?”

  “No.”

  “In the past, the president, the vice president, the president’s brother and the ministers of Defense, State Security and Interior where the only civilians who attended the National Security Committee. The president saw it fit to invite me to his weekly meeting with his security chiefs.” He giggled. “Collins and Campbell will turn green with envy when they see me.”

  “That’s great, darling,” Mrs Reed said, rewarding him with another helping. “Just be wary of those who hate your rise.”

  “I will be alert, honey.” He looked at his watch. “Seven twenty-three. I have to go. I don’t want to be late for my first National Security Committee.”

  A servant opened the garage for Reed and he drove out. The armed policemen guarding Reed’s house saluted as the minister drove through the gate. Like all Cabinet ministers, Professor Reed had three armed policemen guarding his house.

  He drove through the quiet streets of the posh Brandon Ward Subdistrict, named after the supreme leader. After about fifteen minutes, he came into the Brandon Ward Avenue that led to the First Building, the supreme leader’s residence.

  A CIB agent with a clean-shaven head ushered Professor Reed into the First Building. Beautifully designed and surrounded with green lawns and beautiful gardens, the First Building looked like a five-star hotel. It was rumored that there was a network of bunkers under the building. The CIB agent ushered Professor Reed into a boardroom. The professor thought he was the first to arrive for the meeting and was surprised to see all the security chiefs present, exchanging pleasantries as they waited for their commander-in-chief.

  On the chair closest to the unoccupied chairs of the civilian members of the National Security Committee was General Robinson, the commander of the armed forces. The general was a black man who was as big and tall as he was handsome, and he was imposing in his green army service uniform. Next to General Robinson was Air Marshal Gardner, the air force commander, another tall black man, spotting blue service uniform. President Brandon Ward had many faults, but racism and lookism weren’t among them. He had put many blacks and Hispanics in top positions in the government and in the security forces. The supreme leader didn’t care about race and looks, he cared about loyalty and efficiency. Next to the Air Marshal was Police Commissioner Hunt, dressed in light green service uniform. On the other side of the table was General Palmer, the army commander, wearing green service uniform; Admiral Cox, the navy commander, wearing white service uniform; Director-General Sullivan, the head of the CIB, wearing a suit that made him look like a businessman; and Retired Colonel Carter, the head of the prison services, also wearing a suit. The men sitting at this table had ordered the arrest, torture and killing of thousands of people.

  The security chiefs looked at Professor Reed as if he was a fly that had landed on their food. The professor was the Minister of Education and as far as they were concerned, the National Security Committee was out of bounce for him.

  “Good morning dear patriots,” Professor Reed said.

  “Reed, what a surprise,” General Robinson said with unconcealed disgust. “I didn’t know you were now in the National Security Committee.”

  Reed knew he had to play it safe with the security chiefs. He had to win these powerful men to his side if he wanted to achieve his political ambitions. “General Robinson, you flatter me,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I was only summoned here to brief you, esteemed members of the National Security Committee, about NASP.”

  That seemed to soften the general. “Take a seat, Patriot Reed,” he said.

  “Thank you, general,” the professor said, sitting next to Retired Colonel Carter. “Good morning to you all, esteemed security chiefs.”

  “Good morning, Patriot Reed,” chorused the security chiefs.

  “You have been very busy of late, Patriot Reed,” Sullivan, the CIB chief, said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Quite busy, director-general.”

  The director-general admired Professor Reed’s ingenuity. The electronic gags would make intelligence work easier for the CIB. He knew he had to keep an eye on Professor Reed. He had met Reed several times during the past three weeks as the professor set up NASP. As he watched Reed enjoying his new role at the CIB headquarters, the director-general began to suspect that the professor had ambitions to take over the leadership of the CIB.

  “I hope to finish my work with NASP as soon as possible,” Professor Reed
added, aware of the director-general’s jealousies. “It’s affecting my work in my ministry.”

  “You are right, Patriot Reed,” said Admiral Cox. “Leave the guns to us. Go back to your ministry and teach our children numbers and letters.”

  “I will do that Patriot Cox.” Professor Reed smiled at the admiral. “You have my word on that.”

  All the security chiefs saluted when the Minister of Defense, Retired General Sanders entered. The Defense Minister was the second in the chain of command. He was commander of the TDA’s armed forces for fifteen years before President Ward drafted him into the Cabinet after the death of the incumbent Minister of Defense. “It seems we have a new man in the NSC,” he said, looking at Professor Reed.

  “Are you talking about me, general?” Professor Reed said, smiling at the Defense Minister. “I’m only here to brief you, esteemed members of the NSC about NASP.”

  “Oh NASP, that little project of yours,” the Defense Minister said as he took his seat.

  The ministers of Interior and State Security entered.

  “Reed, what the hell are you doing here?” Campbell demanded.

  “We won’t be discussing the alphabet or the number line,” mocked Collins.

  “Maybe the professor wants to take us back to school,” General Palmer, the army commander, said with a laugh.

  “You didn’t answer me,” Campbell rasped. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Professor Reed smiled at the Minister of Interior. “Patriot Campbell, I am here on the orders of the supreme leader.”

  Collins and Campbell angrily took their seats.

  Everyone rose from their seats and the security chiefs saluted when President Brandon Ward, Vice President Butler and Senior Minister Christopher Ward, the three members of the High Council, entered.

  “You may sit down,” President Ward said.

  Everyone sat down except the president’s bodyguard.

  “Let’s get on with business, patriots. Professor Reed, the inventor of NASP is here with us today. Patriots, NASP is part and parcel of our security system and you are going to cross-examine the professor about his invention and help us improve it.”

  Director-General Sullivan raised a hand.

  “Yes Director-General,” President Ward said.

  “Thank you, Patriot President.” The director-general cleared his throat and straightened his jacket. “What happens when a citizen travels outside the country? Will citizens go out of the Ten Districts of America with electronic gags?”

  “Good point, director-general,” Professor Reed said. “I think it will be unwise for us to let citizens go out of the Ten Districts with electronic gags. There will be lots of international outrage if our citizens go abroad with gags on their necks. I suggest that when citizens leave the Ten Districts, they must surrender their gags at the port of exit and get the gags on their return.”

  “Good point professor,” Vice President Butler said. “We can’t allow citizens to go out of the country with our gags.”

  “Some citizens might try to sneak out of the country with the gags just to embarrass us,” the police commissioner said.

  “Yes,” added Collins. “Imagine what will happen when our citizens appear in Canada or in Europe with the gags. Our detractors will have a field day.”

  “Some citizens might try to sneak out of the Ten Districts with the gags, but they won’t succeed,’ Professor Reed said with authority. “We put a geofence round the country’s borders. If a citizen comes to within five hundred meters from the boarder, his electronic gag gives him repeated shocks to warn him.” The professor looked at the supreme leader and was happy to see him nodding his head in agreement. “The system also sends an alert to the border patrol. If the citizen advances to within two hundred meters from the boarder, he receives a continuous electric shock till he retreats. If the citizen manages to cross the border illegally despite the electric shocks, the gag will explode and kill him.”

  “Professor Reed, you continue to make us proud,” President Ward sounded like the father of a brilliant student.

  “Thank you, Your Excellence.”

  “Your Excellence, are we going to put electronic gags on soldiers, policemen and CIB agents?” asked General Robinson, the commander of the armed forces.

  “My sentiments exactly,” added Retired General Sanders, the Minister of Defense.

  “Let’s gag every soldier below the rank of captain and every policeman below the rank of inspector,” President Ward said.

  “That’s wise, Your Excellence,” entered Christopher Ward, never one to argue with his brother in public. “The gags will make it easier for us to monitor our security forces.”

  “But won’t that lower the morale of our servicemen?” General Robinson asked.

  Professor Reed avoided making a comment, knowing the security chiefs would resent anything he said in this purely military matter.

  “They will get used to the gags,” the supreme leader said. “We gag them but they won’t have to buy airtime like civilians… they will speak for free. That way, policemen and CIB agents can investigate crimes without worrying about airtime. Is your question answered to your satisfaction, General Robinson?”

  “Yes, Patriot President,” lied General Robinson. He thought NASP was a waste of time and resources. The government was wasting money on Professor Reed’s toys instead of strengthening the country’s military. China, Iran and North Korea were amassing arms, threatening the Ten Districts’ position as the world’s most powerful country. Ten Districts security agents had the population firmly under control during all the twenty-three years of Brandon Ward’s rule and there was no need for these expensive toys. The president is becoming paranoid, the general thought. Age is catching up with him. General Robinson had harbored presidential ambitions for a long time. Maybe now was the time to start thinking about a military coup.

  Director-General Sullivan looked at his colleagues with unexpressed delight. Since the CIB ran NASP, gagging soldiers and policemen would put them under his control.

  “Patriots, do you have further questions about NASP?” the supreme leader asked.

  Silence.

  “Patriots, cross-examine the professor,” President Ward said. “We have to close all loopholes in NASP.”

  Silence.

  “I guess this means you have no questions at the moment. Let’s go to other security matters.”

  Professor Reed listened as the High Council, the security ministers and the security chiefs discussed the army, air force, navy, police, CIB and prison services. Although there were times when he thought he had good points, the professor remained silent, careful not to antagonize the security chiefs. By attending the National Security Committee, he had invaded their territory and he didn’t want to rub salt into their wounds.

  * * * * *

  Brandon Ward Wildlife Refuge is the largest wildlife reserve in the Ten Districts. For someone who didn’t give much value to human life, President Ward had surprising love for animals. During his reign, he advocated for the preservation of wildlife and enacted harsh anti-poaching laws. He also banned the exploration of oil in wildlife refuges.

  The transformation from the modern world to the scenic, natural environment struck Melissa. Here the air was so clean and so fresh that she felt like she was on another planet.

  Scott, Freddie’s colleague was waiting for them in a Land Rover at the bus stop. His mouth gaped when he saw electronic gags on their necks. “This is my first time to see the device on someone I know,” he said. “They have decided to track us like animals.”

  “Scott , if I were you I would go and get a tracker on my neck before the deadline expires,” Freddie advised.

  “I’m going tomorrow,” Scott said. “I dreaded having the device on my neck but seeing you with it gives me courage.”

  “Scott, this is my mother.”

  “I’m pleased to know you, ma’am.”

  “Me too,” Melissa said, shaki
ng Scott’s hand.

  “My mom is normally very sociable. Forgive her if she appears distant… she is worried about airtime and so am I.”

  Scott started the car and drove into the wildlife refuge.

  “Is the tracker painful?”

  “Sometimes,” Freddie said curtly, worried about airtime. “I will give you the manual.”

  Melissa looked around as the car sped into the refuge. The dust road was the only evidence of human activity in the natural landscape. The land had no trees and here and there where patches of snow that were stubbornly refusing to give in to the rising temperatures. In the hills snow appeared untouched by the rising temperatures of fall. The car stopped when a herd of bison crossed the road. Melissa watched with excitement as the big beasts majestically galloped across the road. Scott moved the car after the last of the bovines had crossed. He didn’t give the same respect to the pack of gray wolves that crossed the road ahead of the Land Rover a minute later. He accelerated the vehicle, sending the wolves fleeing to safety on both sides of the road.

  Suddenly, there was a fenced clearing that looked like an ugly scar in the natural plain. This was the wildlife refuge’s headquarters, which consisted of an administration block and staff cottages.

  Freddie carried his mother’s bags to his cottage, which was the biggest of the staff cottages. Melissa was glad to discover that although the cottage looked battered from outside, it was well-furnished.

  “Welcome to the residence of the chief scientist of Brandon Ward Wildlife Refuge,” Freddie said. “This is the kitchen... the bathroom... and your room.”

  “You have a beautiful place here,” Melissa said. “I thought wildlife scientists lived in tents.”

  “When we are doing field work we sometimes stay in tents. But don’t worry... I won’t be doing field work any time soon. I shall be your tour guide during your stay here.”

  “Won’t I disturb your work?”

  “What work?” Freddie snickered. “The animals and plants can do without me... they have been doing that for millions of years.”