by Rabia Rahou
Spending is second nature in the army, as the Chief himself told me that he is the organizer of an international chess tournament for the armies of the world. He’s very proud of it, and he told me that thanks to the astronomical budget allocated for the international collaboration between the armies, this year, the tournament is in its 5th edition and is very successful, even if I personally never heard of it. “We need to play more chess, Konu. It develops our soldiers’ brains,” as the chief said.
We get around twenty percent of the empire’s tax as a yearly budget, with no restrictions on how it is spent. We could request more anytime during the entire fiscal year. To do that, we have a bill introduced to the Senate requesting a complementary budget to cover top-secret projects. They always vote unanimously to deliver the additional budget even though they have no clue for what it will be used for. That lump sum goes straight to the corporations of the First Citizens. It’s not enough they monopolize the civilian market; the military market is in their strong grip, too. The First Citizens take the money from the population twice, and that never happened before in any civilization or economic model in all the history of mankind.
The state squeezes the average citizen to the limit, but not the wealthy first citizens. They are exempted from the taxes under the big corporate-sponsored. Under that law, a corporation is exempt from paying taxes if it creates more than a million jobs. They do, of course, as three quarters of the population work for the corporations of the First Citizens. That’s the scheme, and that’s why the First Citizens want expand democracy all over the world, not just to control the state through the Senate, but the real reason is even more disturbing.
The First Citizen, Wonfuse, told me one day, that the average person must vote periodically, because then, he will think that his opinion matters and that he is making a difference. He will then feel good about himself as a self-aware, good citizen who has a say in the country’s affairs. In fact, he is just a domesticated citizen, taxed to the limit and kept docile through the illusion of his political involvement. They do this because a wild, uninvolved citizen is danger to their scheme. He could break down barriers and start a revolution that will be hard to contain. He could do this knowing that he has nothing to lose as he is completely robbed every year by the tax office, police forces with their loophole’s, and fees that he must pay with interest for everything except air. And he pays all this for nothing in return. That’s why they teach democracy at an early age here, to make it a part of the people’s personality. I know, again, this is the same scheme of every great empire, injecting the dogma at an early age.
The state drowns the average citizen in fear, too. And not just to take his money, which they already did, but to use his life and the lives of his kids, too. The army advertising campaign can be summarized in one sentence: “They are at our doors.” This means everyone and everything wants to invade us, and we must give everything we have, including our lives, to stop that. In their dogma, the army exposes the scenario of permanent war as a strategic choice to continuously defend the empire’s interests. Everyone is an enemy, including that third-world country on the other side of the planet, where its citizens transport themselves and their goods on donkeys. Those guys, too, want to invade our dearest empire, as they have nothing to do in their own life, so they are conspiring on the how to invade the Amians.
They don’t buy or sell, watch TV, listen to music, eat or drink, watch football, or an afternoon soap opera. Taking into account that they already fixed all their national problems, they’ve decided they need to invade the great empire of the Amians. That’s all they think about all day long. And that’s why our greatest army proposed a bill to the Senate, under the supervision of the Second Citizen, to create a Space Force with a 25% increase in our annual budget. As the big empires could strike us anytime, anywhere, without the need to go to space, therefore the main argument was that we must prepare our self for any alien contact or invasion. As ridicules as it may sound, it was approved by the majority. Some went even further and proposed a conspiracy theory about the involvement of one of the third world nations in helping the Aliens to destroy us.
“Konu, you never know. Better we take precautions,” as the Chief said.
We arrived at Oina’s District 11 half sober and half not. Our delegation couldn’t handle the drugs very well, especially the Chief. He had a rough night, so he asked me, “Konu, could you please introduce us? I can’t do this. Since yesterday, I’ve had this impossible headache. It’s killing me.” He didn’t sleep almost all night. His night of wine, drugs, and a couple of “companions” were continuing to have an effect on him in every respect.
Oina welcomed us briefly. I even didn’t have to speak as she told me later that she knows that the Amian army likes partying. We looked like teenagers looking for everything else other than collaboration, treaties, and all the boring paperwork. But for me, it was the first time I saw her in person. All the best photos and holograms didn’t give enough credit to her unique charm. Not physically, as everyone in the League is like a top model, but something that was just charming in her existence that spoke to me. Space-time is bent with every movement and sight she produces, I couldn’t stop watching her, and I realized that I must talk to her.
A cocktail party for the success of the meetings was held the night of our departure. I stalked her for about an hour. There was no way I’d go talk to her first. That never worked. Finally, she started noticing me.
At first, she told me that she thought that the situation was ridiculous, my use of such an old-school way of approaching a woman. She is the most powerful person on that continent and could humiliate me and throw me out in a total disgrace. She told me that she thought, How disgraceful an empire can be, if they would send just anyone to represent it, including a stalker.
After a while, she started to have doubts as she saw I was very self-confident. She started exchanging glances with me. She told me that she asked her assistant, “Is this guy stupid, or what?” Then, she asked who I was. Then, she kept looking at me as it started to be funny, and she thought that I wasn’t that bad after all. Finally, she gave me a polite smile, and that what I was waiting for to directly approach her.
I presented myself in an official way, not a single blink in my eyes, and it was done…
My phone is ringing. I’m pausing my writing for a moment to answer, “I hope everything is fine, Oina.”
“Yes, I was very busy. How are you?” she said
“Very stressed. Trying to write, but nothing is coming out good,” I replied
“Writing now, in these times, really?” she firmly asked.
I remained silent, and then she continued, “Can you make it?”
“I can make an apple pie.” I replied
“I wish you could,” she then said patiently. “Take a rest, sleep a little bit. It’s important.”
I took her advice, I slept three hours. I woke up in the early morning, went walking to the local market, bought some apples, butter, and flour. I had the rest at home. I baked an apple pie and hoped it would taste good. I didn’t want to try it; I just trusted my instinct on that one.
Suddenly I was busy, and I forgot my stress. Ironically, the Chief was right on this one.
Chapter 16
The Meeting
“The most powerful being in this world depends on his life to exist, that life could end suddenly in a split second.”
~ Oina
D ismar took me to the airport, I told him that I baked an apple pie for him. He looked at me bizarrely, but I convinced him to try it and let me know if it was any good. He was still suspicious, but he thanked me for thinking of him with my busy agenda. He wondered by baking an “apple pie” for him, if I may not be intending to return at all.
The Second Citizen was in first class, as is the normal mode of travel on public airlines when on a security mission. However, I was in economy, as I like traveling with normal people when I have the opportunity to do so.<
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They serve only crappy food here in economy. My meal consisted of a kind of butter with a small piece of bread, water in a small plastic container, mashed potatoes with a brown meat sauce on top which looked exactly like “The Thing,” and one piece of a vegetable on the side. There was also a kind of sweet yogurt as a dessert. This is all served with small, white, plastic spoons forks and knives.
What’s this? Is that some kind of a fruit? Yes it is!
Anyway, all this ends on your lap in turbulence. Bon appétit ! What a feast…
The man sitting next to me was fat, tall, sweaty, and very trampy. He wanted to start a conversation with me, Sure, why not, since this is maybe the last time I speak with a normal citizen.
“They are so slow. I asked for a beer an hour ago, and I’m still waiting,” he said. I’m drinking all sorts of alcohol that I mixed in one cup with some juice a “Zambrito cocktail,” I like to call it. I rarely drink, but for the sake of this world that I’m trying stupidly to save somehow, I will have this Zambrito.
“I can share this cocktail with you. It's strong, though,” I replied.
“Oh, really? That’s awesome,” he said in an astonishing way like no one proposed him a drink in his life. I felt so relaxed by his spontaneous reactions. It was nothing calculated as the average person tends to lash out at everything for no apparent reason. I felt happy for a moment, and I started talking with him in the same style. Nothing to worry about. He will not judge me, and even if he does, he can’t affect me in any aspect of my life. Long live the average person!
“Alright, here you go. Go slow…” he drank it like it was a shot, and I thought we’re going to need a lot more alcohol.
I signaled an everyday-looking, middle-aged woman serving as one of the flight attendants. I’m not saying an ugly one, but the ones they send to economy class, the ones that don’t have any connections to move up in their careers due to lack of luck. No one gets to choose their parents and the DNA they inherit. I asked her very politely, with just a touch of charm, to bring us five, small, mini-bottles of each brand of alcohol. She did in less than a minute. She even offered me an extra one from first class. I gave her a nice smile and a sophisticated thank you. She is a solid one.
I started mixing a high-end Zambrito for my new friend and listening to his stories about selling leather belts. That was his main job, although not his only one. He is also doing the night shift in fast foods, cleaning the ones that can’t afford AI humbots. By doing that, he could keep financing his belt business somehow.
I just stay there listening with my Zambrito in my hand. I’m finding this guy fascinating. He asked me about my work, and I said I’m a commander in the army. He told me that his cousin used to be in the army too, a sergeant. I asked why “used to be” and not still was. “Did they kick him out or something?”
He said they did after they realized that he faked his diploma to get into the army and that he never finished any school since his father was an alcoholic. Because of that, the kid had to leave the school to work and help his family at an early age. A sad story, but then I couldn’t resist throwing a bad joke on top of it.
“Did he start a belt business, too?” I asked, laughing. I thought that was the best joke I ever made. My new friend, however, took it very badly, and he stopped talking to me. I realized in the end, the average person has a heart too.
Oina sent us two cars, Yolp, the Second Citizen, had left already in the first one. Stressed and confused, he wanted to talk to Kadar as soon as possible. Probably, he is starting to panic, and that’s very normal due to the gigantic and historical meeting in which he will be assisting.
I went to the second car and asked the driver to go slowly. I’d keep her waiting a little bit, as I needed this small trip to see people in the street walking and doing their daily activities. That makes me feel good, especially when in the League. It feels just right as it is a very homogenized society. They look similar, and they look happy somehow. They look like true citizens –unlike the Amians.
Amians look like a boat just dropped them off on the coast before it sunk. They looked stranded with no way back and seem like they feel they are forced to stay and to struggle against one another, as every person hates the other simply because they don’t look the same. I never blamed them for their racist behavior, as it is just human nature as it should be. “Let’s leave the virtues for the philosophers,” said the soldier.
I finally arrived at the Royal Hotel, the top-floor suite. I opened the door, and she was there on the balcony, like a standing phoenix, like a diamond, like a ballistic missile. Oina…
I really think that we should stop taking ourselves so seriously, and by “we,” I mean Homo sapiens. Because right after good sex mixed with some high-end drugs, for a moment, everything is crystal clear. Suddenly, in a flash, the truth appears briefly. In that brief window of time, we realize that there is no good or bad, no saving the planet or the species, no virtues, no philosophical thoughts or existential crises – there is just nothing worth it in the end. The basis of our primal instinct is to reproduce and to be entertained. All our body and mind are built only to self-duplicate like a virus, and in-between that, to be entertained. We are so much into that, as they are the rarest activities that make us feel that time is on hold.
After that small “window of truth,” as I call it, everything returns to normal as the Little Guy in my head wakes up and starts telling me his stories, his shames, complexes, and his plans and others nonsense that we describe as life. Nature plays her movie of the special one, as the Little Guy keeps reminding me how so unique I am to keep me alive. He is afraid that I may commit suicide if I find out that life is only about reproducing and goofing around.
That awareness is without a doubt a mistake in our evolution. Nature kept arming the human’s brain to confront all sorts of dangers until he became too conscious, to the point of doubting his own reality, thinking that there is a life in death and all sorts of imaginary ideas that he can’t stop producing. Nature sharpened the species until it became obsolete as the painter that sharpened his pencils until… well, they ended.
Meanwhile, an aware being is swimming through his existential mid-life crisis like a giant salamander, slowly, stumbling in the darkness of the abyss. But, he decides to keep going, not by necessity or for the love of life, but to challenge nature itself through his own existence, as previously, somehow, he did stumble on the truth that could make him kill himself. Still, he is hanging in there to prove that he will keep going against nature itself as it is the only way for him to truly exist as a pure consciousness, not as just a miserable being begging for life and reproduction. It is his only opportunity to challenge nature by creating an exception. And, in my opinion, only the exception can lead to true existence.
That giant salamander is a free-thinking organism that disengaged himself from the path of the slavery of the natural order, with all its superstition, cowardice, and all the expectations for his future. He did this to be truly a being present in the moment, happy to be, nothing more or less.
“I guess the Little Guy woke up, and he is throwing up on you his existential depression,” she said quietly.
“My giant salamander, walking slowly and blindly…” I replied.
“The Second Citizen is not aware of the source of the code, therefore there is only one person left – Wonfuse. Konu, we are stumbling in the dark just like your giant salamander. I’m not sure we can make it on time. It’s so well hidden, almost divine, I may say.”
“Nothing is divine except you, Oina. I wanted to tell you that whatever will happen at the meeting, I forgive you.”
“Konu, do me a favor... Stop your paranoiac thoughts, nothing will happen...”
We slept until the next morning. When I woke up, she was not there, of course. I fixed a small, cheap, black coffee from the coffee machine in the bedroom. I left the breakfast buffet served in the living room untouched, an old habit from my days in the Black Unit. The
re, I learned to avoid extravagant tastes that can mislead or soften my judgment in the battlefield. I went to the balcony to see how beautiful District 11 is, and it looks even better every time I visit. She is putting her heart and soul into it. Me dragging her into this crisis where she will lose everything, and I keep fooling myself that this will protect her. Deep inside me, I wish she will betray me, get me killed. That will resolve all my problems at once.
Yolp, the Second Citizen, just woke up. He called me in my room informing me that he had scheduled a breakfast with me.
“Are they treating you well here?” I asked him at the breakfast buffet in the private royal saloon, watching him drinking alcohol instead of coffee, stressed like he didn’t sleep last night.
“Konu, I hope I didn’t wake you up.” Then he added nervously and quietly, “I think someone is following me here. It was a bad idea. Why didn’t we bring some security, god damn it!”
I wasn’t in the best mood when I looked at him straight in the eyes and said, “Your paranoia will get us killed. Please sit and enjoy your meal. You are safe here.”
“Don’t talk to me like that. Who do you think you are?” I ignored him, but then he lost his temper and started lashing out at me, “Don’t ignore me! I’m talking to you! You know what, Konu? You are a nothing! We hired you into this position because we needed someone dumb and unknown so we could control the army. And let’s be clear, no one gives a damn about your AI score. Hundreds, if not thousands, of civilians out there could beat it.