by Jasper Bark
The guests laughed at this. O'Shaugnessy acknowledged this with a nod of the head and then put on a serious expression. "Don't let your ego get ahead of you. Just because you control more wealth than most first world countries doesn't mean you need to start running them. You might be more competent than the people they voted in, but it's not your affair. If you start handing out cash to people who haven't got the sense or guts to make their own they won't thank you for it.
"At best they'll see you as a big tit that they can suck on any time they need it. At worst they'll start thinking the reason they haven't got any money is not because they're stupid and lazy, but because you stole it all from them in the first place.
"Build them a welfare state and what happens? They stop working. It's the same with philanthropy. It takes away incentive and it turns grown men and women into little children waiting for Daddy to give them a hand out. And all because you were feeling a bit blue and wanted to stroke your own ego.
"Remorse, guilt, regret, it's a slippery road. And it leads to ruin. There is a way to avoid all this though. As I said, it's a natural human failing. The way to get around that is to become more than human.
"'Now how do I do that?' You might be asking yourself? Well now, I'm not the feller to be telling you. So let me give the stage over to our host here on St Ignatius. My esteemed colleague - Doc Papa!"
There was a huge round of applause from the guests. There was something almost obscene about the way O'Shaugnessy had worked the audience. Playing on their doubts and their prejudices to work them into a frenzy. It had worked though. Boy had it worked. The mood in the room had gone from despondency to eager anticipation.
Doc Papa shook O'Shaugnessy's hand and took the podium. "Thank you Eamonn for those insightful words. You are perfectly right of course, in everything you said. Indeed it does fall to me to reveal one of the most powerful secrets that we guard here on St Ignatius. I am talking about the process of transcending your humanity.
"Before you can achieve that, however, you have to consider what it is that makes you truly human. What is it that hangs a conscience around your neck to keep you down and hold you back from all you could be? I will tell you. It is that most misunderstood of all human commodities - your soul.
"It is your soul that now torments you. That plagues you with remorse even as you take the first steps towards greatness. No matter how hard you try to evade it. Your soul will find a way to retard your development. Do not underestimate its strength or tenacity. It is the one part of you that is immortal and it knows more about you than you yourself know.
"Why do you think there are so many tales of men and women who sell their souls for success? Because that is what it takes to truly succeed.
"Let me draw you an analogy. Consider the gold standard. Until very recently the limits of a country's currency were dictated by the amount of gold in its coffers. The worth of every note its economy issued was controlled by the amount of interest it could raise on its gold reserves. Imagine the summit of man's imagination, the peak of his potential to shape the world in his image, all of it was tied to how much yellow metal he could scratch out of the ground.
"When we abandoned the gold standard we created an unlimited expansion of credit. There was no horizon beyond which we couldn't sail. No end to the territory we could conquer and call our own. The potential for our endeavours was ours to create, and ours alone.
"Western alchemists, were the earliest of what I call 'Econo-mystics.' They searched for the philosopher's stone that would turn base metal into gold. That would breathe life into dead matter. And what was this gold they sought to wring from the meanest substance?
"Why it was the human soul. The soul is the gold standard by which all human endeavour and achievement is measured.
"Once you have abandoned it there is no end to what you can achieve. But that doesn't mean your soul has no value. It is worth more than your success, believe me. As a great philosopher once said 'what does it profit a man to gain the world if he lose his soul?'
"Gold did not lose its value when we suspended the gold standard. Neither will your soul. Countries did not sell off their gold reserves. And you no longer have to sell your soul in order to succeed. You can simply lease it.
"Voodoo teaches that there are two component parts to the soul. The Gros Bon Ange and the Ti Bon Ange. It is the Gros Bon Ange that keeps track of every misdemeanour you commit. When you go to meet your maker and you're judged on whether you can enter paradise, it is your Gros Bon Ange who will argue on your behalf.
"When a person dies, the Gros Bon Ange does not move far from the body. There is a rite that captures the Gros Bon Ange and contains it in a vessel called a Pot-tet. This is essential for passage into the afterlife.
"Through my superior knowledge of Voodoo I have perfected a means of removing the Gros Bon Ange from a person's body before they are even dead. In a unique marriage of science and Voodoo I can lift the main portion of the living soul out a person's body and maintain it in a state of suspended animation until it is ready to be returned to its owner.
"Think of us as a bank where you can safely store what is at once your most valuable possession and your biggest impediment. A bank that allows you to achieve huge success by removing the biggest obstacle from your path.
"Like all banks, you can make withdrawals as well as deposits. Once you've made your billions your soul can be returned to you completely unsullied by everything you've done. Not one of your sins will have touched it. Your Gros Bon Ange will have no knowledge of your crimes and will be as pristine as the day you banked it. All you need do is pay the release fee plus compound interest.
"This is a one-time offer. Tomorrow we begin the Festival of the Gédé, the only time of year when this rite can be performed. Any guests not wishing to participate are free to leave the island now, your deposit will be forfeit however. Are there any questions?"
George Griffin raised his hand. "You mentioned there were two parts to the soul. What happens to the other part, this Ti Bon something?"
"Ti Bon Ange," said Doc Papa. "That's a very good question, thank you. The Ti Bon Ange governs your higher faculties and your capacity to reason. It looks after the mind in other words. It is not bothered by your conscience. This will remain with your body. In fact when it is freed from the shackles of the Gros Bon Ange you will find that the Ti Bon Ange actually sharpens your mental faculties.
"Now, if you're all satisfied we can move on to the paperwork. There are legal disclaimers, NDAs and contracts to be drawn up. These will all have to be signed in blood. Please let the administrators know if that is going to be a problem. There are no more seminars for the day. We'll see you this evening at the celebratory dinner where you'll get a chance to meet the shareholders and the previous course graduates."
Doc Papa left the stage and the guests rushed to sign up. The only people who lagged behind were Benjamin, Tatyana and the African American woman Tatyana was fascinated with, Miriam. Tatyana hadn't said anything specific about her, but Benjamin kept catching her glancing over at the woman. She had something to do with Tatyana's mysterious disappearance a few days ago, Benjamin knew she did.
He was having a hard time working out what was going on with Tatyana. Maybe she had the hots for this Miriam. There would have been a time when that thought would have excited him. Now he just wanted to get a handle on what she was thinking or feeling.
He stood up and turned to Tatyana. "Are you coming?
"Don't hate me. But I don't think I can do this."
"What? But..."
"Please don't Benjamin. I know what you're going to say, okay? We go through this every time. I get worried and you bully me into it so I don't let the cause down. This is different though. This is some seriously heavy shit going down. They're talking about taking our souls away. How scary is that? I mean how much further do we have to go? I'm frightened I'm going to lose myself entirely."
He felt a cold knot of fear in his gut. "Do yo
u want to go home?" he said, praying she would say no.
"I don't know."
"Maybe we could do something. Y'know like switch bloods when we sign. Or write our names wrong, so the documents don't mean anything."
"How would that help?"
"It might. I don't know. Help me out here. At least I'm trying."
Tatyana looked him straight in the eyes. "You are trying aren't you? Bless you for that at least."
"Tatyana, I... I don't..."
"I know. Okay I'll stay. But it has to be tomorrow night. When all the guests are going to the rite we'll sneak away and do it. I don't want any part of losing my soul."
"Sheesh I thought you were an atheist."
"Well maybe you thought wrong. Tomorrow night or I'm gone."
"Okay, tomorrow night it is then. I'll radio the guys to make sure they're ready."
Chapter Nineteen
"Are you sure this is the right corridor?"
"Look you asked me that the last two times and I already told you, I'm not sure," Tatyana was about to blow. "It's got to be one of these three."
"Well it wasn't the last two."
"So it's probably this one. Will you just give it a rest?"
"They've bound to have noticed we've gone by now. They could come looking at any minute."
Tatyana found the service door she was looking for. They headed through into the bare passageway and Benjamin finally shut up. He had no idea how close he'd come to a fist in the face. She shouldn't think like that, but he could be really annoying at times.
She was sweating from all the running. It made her scalp itch. She scratched her freshly cropped hair. She was going to miss her old locks.
They'd lined up all the guests first thing in the morning and cut their hair. Women's down to two inches, men's to an inch. The hair was collected and stuck inside the earthenware containers called Pot-tets where their souls would be kept.
It was really gross and eerie. The guests had to put their toe nails and finger nails into the pot too. They even made everyone spit in the Pot-tet and pee in a jar so they could add that to the mix.
But that wasn't as bad as the poultice they made them wear. They slapped cornmeal, goat dung, chicken blood, feathers, herbs and raw eggs on to their foreheads and wrapped a big white linen bandage round it to hold it in place. They were supposed to leave it on until the ceremony.
Apparently each of these ingredients would feed their Gros Bon Ange and prepare it to leave their bodies through their foreheads. Tatyana didn't know about her soul, but last night's dinner wanted to leave her guts every time she caught a whiff of the stuff.
After that they'd been taken outside in the blazing heat and made to lie down on the floor of a mud hut. They were packed in together and told to lie on their sides, pressed up against each other as though they were spooning.
A creepy looking guy called Vincenzo, who was some sort of assistant priest, came in. He told them to practise their Zombie breathing and still their vital signs. Tatyana was quite glad of this. The heat, the smell and the physical discomfort were unbearable. Zombie breathing was her way of escaping.
As they lay on the floor barely breathing, women who were all dressed in white, entered the hut. A single drum beat out a rhythm as the women sang high wailing songs in what they called Langay. This was some secret African language that the spirits they called the Loa spoke.
Vincenzo shook his rattle in time to the drum and every three hours he clapped his hands. This was a sign that everyone should turn on to their other side.
The purpose of this ceremony, it was explained to them, was to fool their Gros Bon Anges into thinking that they were dying. The songs were from the underworld of the Gédé, the Loa of the dead whose festival it was. They called to the Gros Bon Anges to leave their bodies and return to the afterlife.
It was dark by the time the ceremony finished. Tatyana ached all over but she hardly noticed. She was totally out of it. The breathing, the drumming and the songs had put her into some sort of trance.
They left the hut and went on a procession into the jungle. Tatyana floated along the small dirt track with the other guests. She barely registered the tall trees and the dense undergrowth all around her.
A group of men she hadn't seen before led the procession. They were blowing strange multi-coloured bamboo trumpets. A group of drummers marched in back of them.
They were quite far in when Benjamin grabbed her arm and pulled her into some prickly bushes. She tripped on a vine and thorns tore her skin. Benjamin put his hand over her mouth to stop her crying out.
Tatyana tried to wriggle free of him but Benjamin held her tight. She wanted to carry on with the other guests. To follow them into the dark heart of the lush, tropical landscape. To give over her soul for the secrets the ceremony promised.
As the procession moved on, it's hold on Tatyana faded as the thick ferns and creepers of the jungle swallowed it up. Luckily Benjamin hadn't been so caught up as her. He'd seen a chance to get them out and jumped at it. They traced their steps back through the dense jungle and returned to the mansion.
They had to be super careful getting back in. The apartment complex was crawling with the new arrivals. The previous course graduates who had bored everyone rigid with how rich and successful they now were at the dinner the previous night. Keeping out of their way hadn't been easy.
Once they'd got back to their room they'd both showered and changed into some corpse clothes they'd stolen. Then they'd made their way to the annex on the other side of the mansion and Tatyana had tried to retrace the route she took when she followed Miriam.
At the bottom of the metal steps Tatyana tried to remember which way they'd gone through the service bay.
Benjamin lit his zippo. "Does this help?"
"Thanks. I think it's over this way."
She was surprised to find that she had less problem finding the compound than she thought. They got to the hi-tech security doors without being seen and Benjamin pulled out the Rolex Andy had fixed up for them.
"Do you think it'll work?" she said as Benjamin hooked it up like Andy had shown him.
"We're fucked if it doesn't. 'Sides, you gotta have faith in the Andy-droid. He's never let us down before."
There was a high-pitched whine followed by a low hum and, with a click, the doors opened.
"We're in," Benjamin said.
They stepped through the doors and dropped into their best Zombie shuffles.
This was the first time they'd ever encountered the noble monsters unsupervised. Tatyana was struggling to keep her heartbeat down and her breathing shallow. She was excited and nervous. This was what all the months of planning had been about. This was the ultimate test of everything she stood for. There was no room for fuck-ups.
It took a little while for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was no lighting and they couldn't carry a torch or use a naked flame. Vague shapes loomed out of the darkness making Tatyana's heart race. Most of them turned out to be inanimate objects. All the same it was dangerous to have a high pulse rate.
The plan was to round up the biggest group of Zombies then head round the compound picking up any stragglers. Once they'd gotten all the noble monsters together they were going to head out to the harbour on the south side of the island, where Benjamin had instructed the guys to wait.
The Fourth Rule of Interaction was 'Follow the herd but think ahead of it.' Apparently this would eventually allow them to take control of large groups of Zombies. Sort of like undead sheepdogs was how Tatyana pictured it.
Dr Chen had said that it was only in large groups that Zombies started to exhibit any sort of intelligence. Almost as if they developed a group mind that got cleverer the more of them there were. She and Benjamin figured the bigger the group got, the more conscious they'd be. The more conscious they became, the easier it would be for them to understand that Benjamin and Tatyana were there to help them.
"It's like any revolutionary activity when yo
u think about it," Benjamin said. "The more you raise the consciousness of the masses, who are like the noble monsters, the easier it is to get them together in greater numbers so they can, like, throw off the shackles of their oppressors."
Tatyana nodded because she didn't want another argument. She agreed with the aims and principals of the ZLF, but it always worried her when they started talking about being revolutionary.
Her father had used the 'cause of the glorious revolution' to justify all the things he did for the KGB. She also knew that, deep in his heart, he regretted every one of those things. He took that regret out on Tatyana and her mother. She didn't want Benjamin to end up regretting what he did in the name of being 'revolutionary'. She wasn't going to bear the brunt of that as well.
They lumbered into the main area of the compound at a snail's pace.
Rule Number Two: 'Move in Slow Motion. Keep every movement extremely slow and deliberate'. This gave Tatyana time to scope out the layout.
The compound was mainly scrub land with patches of grass and stretches of sand. Ruined stone buildings, with crumbling walls and no roofs, dotted the area. For the most part the noble monsters just shambled aimlessly around.
It was the middle of the night but there didn't seem to be any change in the noble monsters' behaviour. Tatyana wondered if Zombies ever slept. What would a Zombie dream of if it did?
Over towards one of the electrified fences was a building that looked newly built. It was different from every other structure in the compound. It had a steel roof and its doors and windows were reinforced. Tatyana was quite sure there was something important inside.
Benjamin ambled over to a set of stone steps. They led up to a raised concrete floor that might have been part of a building once. At the top of the steps Benjamin turned and struck a pose like he was Lenin addressing the masses. None of the noble monsters paid him any attention.
So Benjamin raised his fist in a 'Black Power' salute and let out a long, low groan. A few Zombies turned to look at him. Benjamin pointed towards the exit and then raised his fist again. What was he playing at? Did he honestly think he was going to get them to revolt? Who did he think he was, some sort of undead Che Guevara?
