Ambassador 11: The Forgotten War

by Patty Jansen

  We adults had a heck of a job keeping everyone together.

  Larrana showed every poor kid he met in the shops pictures of his collection. He cared little about his victim’s reaction because he couldn’t understand anything they said. They couldn’t understand him either, which was probably just as well, because he commented if the kid had bought cheap replica souvenirs that were displayed in overflowing bins at the shop entrances, and not the real deal, displayed in glass-fronted cabinets at the back.

  His family had supplied him, through Amarru, with a more than decent amount of credit to buy stuff. We traipsed in and out of shops and the pile under the seats in the trolley grew.

  He ticked off items in his catalogue to make sure that he didn’t buy anything he already owned.

  He knew all the names of the characters, the different movies they were in and what they represented. This part of Earth’s culture was utterly alien to me. It disturbed me that someone from off-world knew so much more about it than I did.

  Meanwhile, an old-fashioned tram had stopped in the street, and people dressed up as dogs had come out of the carriage to perform a show.

  Several of us placed ourselves strategically in the crowd to watch, not in the least because the Pengali kids had discovered a tree and had climbed onto the branches. Both were dancing to the music, waving their tails. Fortunately, they hadn’t yet found it necessary to remove their jumpsuits.

  The gathered audience alternated between watching them and watching the show.

  Two uniformed women walked past, giving them, and Ynggi at the bottom of the tree, the stink-eye.

  We finally dragged Larrana out of the shops with the promise of going on the rides.

  Mariola told us about the history of the park while we walked from one to the other.

  I was sure it was a rehearsed and approved speech, but I found it quite interesting, because I’d never been here or had anything to do with this industry.

  She said that in the twentieth and twenty-first century, people from all over the world used to come here, and that these parks were considered entertainment for the masses. The era of the great amusement parks had ended in the mid-twenty-first century, after a series of cataclysmic events had stopped mass tourism. Of course I knew about those events. Armed conflicts, great trade wars, massive displacement of people because of hunger and war. Border closures relating to conflict and boycotts and the protracted wars in Western Asia and Northern Africa made air travel risky, because people never knew whether flights would leave or they’d end up stranded in foreign countries.

  The—far too tardy—move away from fossil fuels had caused a crater in the airline industry because air travel remained dependent on fossil fuels, but mining those fuels became uneconomic, causing a sudden collapse of companies that sold them. Biofuels were big until worldwide droughts forced people to use the land for producing food.

  When the second American civil war broke out, Mexico was quick to scoop up this part of the country that used to be known as the United States of America. Because of Mexico’s annexation, this region surrounding Los Angeles escaped the worst of the violence, but that didn’t mean it didn’t suffer. When the tourists stopped coming, a lot of the parks fell into disrepair. The companies that owned them went bankrupt or were absorbed into larger companies and vanished quietly. New World Entertainment had bought up a lot of the parks and brought together the most endearing features of all into this precinct.

  The park and surrounding area was home to thirty thousand people, most of whom were employed or otherwise supported by the park.

  They had to be, because the world outside was a dusty, desolate desert that, frankly, resembled something out of a dystopian show.

  In the Bay of Islands, where my father lived, a warming climate had caused more rain and had brought colourful fish and corals into the shallow waters.

  It was good to be reminded that for much of the world, the changing climate had meant desertification, hunger and misery.

  Once the Earth had supported seven billion people. It was now struggling to support half the number.

  While I listened to Mariola, members of my team were doing other things. Ynggi and Jaki kept their kids out of the garden beds. Pykka and Amay then discovered a poor park-employed woman who was entertaining young kids with a bubble machine. After being told that jumping on the barrel of the machine to pop the bubbles was not acceptable—and not pleasant either when rubbing their eyes with their soap-covered hands—they resolved to figure out how the machine worked. Mariola showed them how to use the spoon-shaped contraptions in their satchels, and how to fill the reservoir bag with soapy fluid and blow through the holes in the “spoons”. The one with the little holes would make a lot of small bubbles, and the single hole would make a very large bubble.

  The soap solution was not regular dishwashing soap—which my mother used to give me to blow bubbles, but a solution that dried quickly and produced a coating around the bubbles, making them less likely to pop.

  The two Pengali youngsters really got into bubble blowing, and we had to beat our way through the park surrounded by a cloud of bubbles, even to the point where it was hard to see.

  Deyu’s transmitter went through phases of having weak Exchange coverage. Each time this happened, there would be a flurry of activity around the trolley, with Sheydu and Isharu listening in on some conversation and replying in serious tones, or Reida studying maps or scans. Once, Zyana sped ahead of our group, presumably to clear the way of spies or watchers.

  I also hoped there would finally be news from any of the people we hoped to hear from.

  Thayu and Nicha and Reida entertained the kids by going on rides with them. Thayu’s eyes shone, her cheeks were rosy.

  Ayshada had the uncanny ability to charm the socks off guards, and Zyana was no exception. When a ride scared him, Ayshada made Zyana go with him, even if Zyana was always watching every corner and every roof.

  Who knew that serious security people could be so enamoured with roller coasters that they went in them not once or twice but three times, and that they enjoyed being pretend-dropped from a tall tower in a wire cage, or trying to find their way out of a virtual reality maze?

  And it was entertaining, even if only for Emi’s squeals. Our life must be terribly boring for these poor kids.

  Even the Pengali got into it, although the rollercoaster’s attendants didn’t appreciate the youngsters getting out of the restraints and dangling on the backs of the seats. Nor did they appreciate the enormous cloud of bubbles that Pykka produced by taking the blower on the ride and using a sheet of paper to funnel air through the spoon-like contraption while racing around on a rollercoaster. The effect was spectacular, to say the least. The staff had to shut down the ride while waiting for the bubbles to dissipate.

  I hadn’t looked forward to this part of the trip, but it was strangely relaxing.

  When we got tired, we attended a live show with singing and dancing, even if few of us recognised or understood the words in archaic English.

  The costumes were dazzling and the musical performances very good. It was amazing how these people could sing in tune while dangling from a rope off the ceiling. The kids thoroughly enjoyed it.

  Gradually, during the day, it had become busier with more and more families coming out.

  Most of them had hired trolleys and a driver. The vehicles came in different sizes.

  Larrana was also interested to see how many people used wheelchairs. He asked me why there were so many. I couldn’t answer that question and felt ashamed admitting that.

  When I translated the question for Mariola, she said that many people suffered debilitating diseases. Some were brought on by deficiencies in diet. Older disabled people had likely been injured in the civil war. She also said that if you were on a special pension, you got discounts for coming to attractions like this. She said that many people from across the bor
der had come for that reason alone, because they claimed dual citizenship.

  “Mexico was handing out dual citizenships?” I asked.

  “Yes. Our government sees it as our duty to help people who escape across the border. Because despite all the stuff that’s gone on, our countries are very closely related.”

  “Are there’s still battles going on? I thought the creation of the four countries was the end of the civil war.” It was what I had learned at school.

  She snorted. “That’s what they say. It made everyone feel good about having stopped the fighting. But it went on in other places. Trade wars, boycotts, attempts trying to steal resources and influential people.”

  I had to admit to not fully comprehending why the civil war had started, despite reading up on it. I thought gamra and Nations of Earth were steeped in ideology, but the clashes over the role of religion in government and discrimination against certain groups of people were a level of parochialism I never hoped to attain.

  I knew that gamra had little interest in this part of Earth and were not keen for the four nations to join Nations of Earth either, fearful that religious ideology—which was alien to gamra, but always under the surface at Nations of Earth—would dominate the discussion.

  “So how would you describe the current relationship between the four countries if you don’t think they’re at peace?” I asked Mariola, aware that it was a question she might not want to answer.

  She shrugged. “We’re in Mexico. Mexico is a fine place.”

  And Mexico, of course, was a powerhouse member of Nations of Earth, the home of the man who occupied its first presidency, Pedro Gonzales. Mexico had been instrumental in establishing Nations of Earth out of the ashes of the United Nations, to guard against the conflict spilling out across their northern borders.

  “But you just said you have relatives across the border. Don’t you feel worried about them?”

  “My younger cousins will find a way across. There is a large expat community here.”

  “Is everyone trying to leave?”

  “Everyone under the age of forty I know. You may not understand, but America Free State is a very poor country. The government—if you can call it that—only serves those people who can pay.”

  “Governor Patterson, right?”

  She nodded, glancing aside. This was clearly an uneasy subject for her.

  “I don’t like to talk about politics. It can be dangerous.”

  “I’m trying to understand the situation.”

  She nodded.

  I continued, “So we have Governor Patterson of America Free State, Governor Schuster of the Dixie Republic, Governor Sukar of Prairie and Celia Braddock of Atlantia. Out of these, Prairie and the Dixie Republic feed the other two countries, Atlantia is the de facto liaison with Nations of Earth and America Free State is... simply trying to survive while also being a chunk of inhospitable desert and mountainous terrain largely unsuitable for farming.”

  “If you know so much, why do you ask?” Mariola said. “So that you can laugh at us? You know that we got the worst end of the deal from the hallowed Nations of Earth. They kept us stupid by denying us collaboration in science and education. They told us lies that we didn’t have the knowledge and courage to debunk. They walked away when things went wrong, when the land burned, and other countries stopped buying oil, and the water dried up. But you know what? You can blame us or call us stupid, but we’re still a proud people. We don’t need any other countries to help. Because they all betrayed us.”

  By us, she very obviously meant America Free State.

  “I don’t call you stupid at all. In fact, we would like to visit there,” I said.

  She gave me a suspicious look.

  I continued, “You told me that you have a cousin who does scenic flights. I’d like to know about booking such a flight. This is a once in a lifetime trip mostly for the young boy. If you think the scenery is worth it.”

  The excuse about Larrana and his once in a lifetime trip was a very handy one.

  “There are several scenic flights you can do,” she said, suddenly all business-like. “There are a few areas that are open to visitors. They’re like small islands where tourists can still come. They’re crazy across the border, but not that crazy. They still like making money from people who want to see the countryside. You will see genuine beauty and real wilderness. “This—” She waved her hand at the park attractions. “Is all fake. That, across the border, is real country.”

  “Do contact your cousin and let us know what he says, preferably tonight. You know where we’re staying.”

  “Sure. I have to warn you it’s probably not going to be cheap, but if you’re okay with that, I can make some inquiries.”

  “Yes, sure. Do that.”

  Of course. Money was always the first consideration. No matter where you were in the galaxy, you could buy everything for money.

  The kids had fun.

  We prevented some disasters, such as when the Pengali kids discovered a poor squirrel in a tree and chased the poor thing into a shop.

  Or when Ayshada became hyperactive and ran around yelling and almost upset a family’s lunch.

  It was amazing how much energy the kids had when they were enjoying themselves, but after many hours of rides and shows and many unhealthy snacks that Deyu needed to test for anything Coldi children could not eat, even the older ones grew tired and allowed themselves to be driven on the trolley.

  Emi and Ileyu had crashed a long time ago and lay on the seats of the very handy trolley fast asleep.

  It was going dark, and I was keen to get back to the accommodation so that I could check if any messages had come in.

  Mariola sent Chickadee home and drove the trolley herself. It seemed like an innocent enough action, but all members in my team were suddenly alert. She had intended to get us by ourselves in a place where no one else could overhear what she told us.

  “My cousin has agreed to meet you,” she said. “I’ll take you to the hotel and you can decide who will come to talk to him. It’s a rough place.”

  “I thought you lived in the area that serviced the park?”

  “We do, but that is the real world out here. There is no cover, no cooling, and no pretty plants.”

  “I’m game.”

  Chapter Five

  Mariola took us back to the accommodation, where we dropped all the debris we had collected during the day and delivered the tired children to the room. Ynggi and Jaki would get them fed and bathed, although, with the amount of junk food they’d eaten, I doubted they would be hungry.

  I was a bit jealous of Emi, who collapsed in her cot and looked unlikely to wake until morning. I wanted to go to sleep, too, but we had this meeting still to attend. I’d have to be alert to make sure we didn’t walk into a trap. But I would much rather go to bed.

  Out the window, sparkling fireworks rose over the roof of the accommodation block to the left. We decided earlier that we were too tired to stay to watch them.

  In the hallway of our apartment, we held a brief meeting, deciding who would come and how much we’d reveal about our plans. The locations we wanted to visit were very specific, deep into restricted territory, and might pose a risk to any genuine tourist operators.

  “They’re not simple tour guides,” Evi said. “None of them are.”

  He and Telaris had spent much of the day monitoring the newsfeeds that Deyu’s receiver had picked up. They’d picked up how Mariola had contacted her cousin and had discussed arrangements for a trip for us.

  Was it normal that families of park guides hawked their business?

  Apparently. Like the dancers and singers, they didn’t get paid a lot, and made extra money off supplementary business.

  Anyu handed out listening bugs for each of us to carry under our clothes. Mine came with a sticky pad that I attached to my chest. Thank the heavens for th
e lack of chest hair that had resulted from my genetic treatment. I’d not been able to find the time to go back for the laser treatment.

  We decided that myself, Sheydu, Evi, Deyu and Nicha were going to come. I was keen to have Nicha, although I hated to take him away from his son, who had woken up again and complained that he wanted his father. I told Ayshada that Thayu would put him to bed, but that only resulted in Ayshada becoming more awake and stubborn.

  Nicha told him to play with his cousin Larrana, to which Ayshada replied that Larrana was only interested in his collection, and Ayshada was getting bored with plastic figurines.

  I gave Thayu a satisfied look. Earlier today, she’d expressed her concern that the kids would forever be interested in this “useless junk”, as she called it, but this was evidence that we were not in danger of cultural infiltration.

  But just when I feared that a tantrum was imminent, a cloud of bubbles drifted from the bathroom. Amay ran from the room holding her bag with liquid soap attached to a piece of tubing—where the hell had that come from?—blowing air through the solution and spewing vast quantities of bubbles out of the nozzle that was used to fill the bag. She had attached the spoon-like contraption to it.

  Holy crap.

  Jaki blundered after her into the bedroom, batting away bubbles and trying to keep them out of his eyes. Several got stuck in the short hair on his tail. They also clung to the back of his shirt.

  He caught Amay and took the contraption off her with much squealing.

  One rarely saw Pengali berating their youngsters, but she copped an earful and then moped off carrying a towel to wipe the soap off the furniture in the room.

  Relative peace returned.

  While we were putting gear in our pockets, I realised something else: I should take also Ynggi on this night-time excursion.

  Mariola had told me about her cultural heritage, which was obviously of importance to her. The park was a bastion of cultural heritage, and the history of her varied family was another. These people might appreciate seeing different cultures represented in our group.