The critical point of crop failure was in 2038 when it was estimated that the yearly crop production was insufficient to fulfil the basic survival needs of the population for that year without reducing the hoped-for growth rate of the export market. As a result, that year witnessed the first in a series of mass famines in India for the century; the international media reported that an estimated sixty-five million people died. In fact, the actual figure was nearly double that amount, but this was still almost imperceptible on the streets with a population of nearly 2.2 billion.
Unable to hide this situation totally from the world, the Indian government was compelled to take the assistance of the international community, which was officially promoted as a massive unified effort to help alleviate the problem and prevent its recurrence. As a result, the agricultural focus partly shifted away from luxury produce, such as coffee and exotic fruits and vegetables, to the production of essential foods strictly for domestic consumption. However, in the following year, there was still a domestic food shortage, and the export profits slumped not just because of the reduced supplies of export produce but also because of a backlash against Indian exports by international consumers, slightly disgusted by the unfolding events and unaware of the effects that their largely unorganised mass boycott would have. In that year alone one hundred million more died.
The government, which was reeling from the economic losses the nation had incurred, expedited the development and extension of special social policies and infrastructure to deal with the growing population, which, incidentally, they had been planning to implement for some time: in addition to the long-term solutions that had been made use of for many years, including the extensive promotion of contraception, more immediate solutions were also taken advantage of.
Rationalising its needs, the Indian government, with the covert sanction of the International Trade and Development Guild and the International Organisation of Nations — two of the most significant international institutions of the century — coordinated a propaganda campaign that allowed it to reduce the perceived problems that the nation faced by disseminating falsified records and research data about the state of the nation: a situation that was also greatly facilitated by the falsified census data that dramatically underestimated the total population by two hundred and fifty million — a long-standing, foresighted approach that provided the government with substantial room to manoeuvre.
What eventually just became a sign of the times rather than a particularly special case, the country then had the scope it needed to reduce the size of the population dramatically over the subsequent years through two means: 1) systematically starving the impoverished and isolated citizens in its city ghettos and other special zones in regional areas; and 2) re-establishing its market share in the international food market by gradually changing mass opinion through repeatedly assuring the world that the situation was under control and that exports would in fact help the nation's poor.
Only reporting an 'acceptable' death toll from starvation that had little effect on its main objectives, the government's strategies resulted in the death of around seventy to eighty million people per year over a five year period, which reduced the stress on the national resources to a tolerable level and made significant inroads towards restabilising the economy, allowing the government some much needed breathing space given the unprecedented and generally tumultuous and drastic conditions. Despite all this, these measures proved only to be stopgaps for what was to come, not only for India but also for the rest of the world…
• • •
It was in the midst of this that Sascha and Meike travelled to India, less ignorant than most people but still unaware of anywhere near the full extent of the situation, which was largely hidden from view yet was well underway. Only having their own suspicions about the credibility of many of the news reports and the true situation that the world had found itself in, despite their exposure to alternative news media that was known for challenging the official views, their imaginations were too limited by their naïvety to come close to grasping what was really going on; this, unfortunately, was common and to be expected as the structures of secrecy and the propagation strategies of disinformation, information censure, and event whitewashing had become so sophisticated and were used so clinically to such great effect that even the then-well-established alternative and politically 'radical' media hadn't been able to uncover the state of play.
Chapter 9
Two and a half months after arriving in South Africa
Ikaros sits in a bus heading towards a small town near the border with Botswana. After being hospitalised with Malaria for nearly six weeks shortly after arriving in the country — evidently contracting it from a Thai mosquito — and needing some extra time for convalescence and to get his head together and think about his situation, he started an informal cultural investigation and developed an understanding of the prevailing conditions in the region of southern Africa, which he wasn't able to come close to previously from outside the country.
Unsurprisingly, he searched fruitlessly for some good leads for a time, but now he has the name of a town and a hotel, which he was given during a long conversation in a café with a man who — in contrast to the generality of the information Ikaros had been given up to that point by everyone else he'd spoken to — almost without prompting, had gotten onto the subject of the abundance of idealists, mercenaries and even sporting hunters from all over the world who descend on this destination, from which they proceed to enter Botswana for periods to engage in whatever activity takes their fancy.
• • •
Botswana fell into a state-wide civil war nearly five years earlier when a now-infamous general and his cadres conducted a coup and erected a brutal military junta, which executed all the members of the democratically elected government and also those of the opposition parties. Following the lead of other nearby countries, the junta and the civilian gangs of thugs that it had formed began targeting the ethnic minorities, the survivors of which quickly fled the cities in the first few months after being threatened, brutalised and witnessing many being killed en masse. Concurrently, ethnic villages were targeted using a tried and tested genocide strategy: first, a series of napalm air raids were conducted, which were followed closely by helicopter gunships that mowed down those fleeing the blast zone; finally, ground troops swept through the villages ensuring that no man, woman or child remained alive, savagely and mercilessly killing the few that were found. The strategy resulted in the killing of around 1.5 million within the first twelve months of the operation.
Although the international community expressed moral outrage and debated what they could and should do in response, it never really came close to prioritising the movement of troops from the many theatres of war and all the peace missions to which they had already been deployed — its resources were almost stretched to their breaking point as it was. Instead, the only foreign assistance to enter the country was that provided by independent individuals and many small covert organisations that had a reputation for descending upon such situations and giving support to whomever they pleased according to ideological interests or merely monetary incentives: disturbingly, the junta found substantial support in many of these in the form of funding for weapons and other essential supplies, and the strategic assistance of various kinds of advisors, including military strategists and social purge and genocide experts.
• • •
Although based on a dearth of available and reliable information, Ikaros has decided on what he hopes will be a beneficial niche and will provide him with just the kind of invaluable experience he should do well with having in his past.
Upon arriving in the small border town — the new terminus due to the situation in Botswana — Ikaros alights from the train, makes his way to the local pub, and checks himself into the last available room, which was just vacated in the morning by a group of junta-supporting mercenaries who headed back across the border after their short hi
atus spending some of their earnings on imported alcohol and expensive migrant sex workers, who also swarm there from around the country and various exotic corners of the world.
From his second-floor room, Ikaros stands by the window looking down over the town's main street, feeling uneasy about the kinds of people who are undoubtedly in town, but confident that he'll be able to find whom he's looking for among them.
• • •
The first evening he arrived, he started asking questions wherever he could and was surprised how quickly he got the names of several likely candidates who might be able to help him; after having discussions with a few who were actually in town at the time, he decided to go with Nat, a tall South African who was educated and trained militarily in the UK, and his two colleagues, twins who were generally referred to as 'the Dutch brothers' — a pair of tall and particularly lean young men with long, straight blonde hair, who claimed to have been born and raised in South Africa but had conspicuous Norwegian accents. It was on this point that Nat had learned no longer to draw attention due to the brothers' heated reactions; instead, all three had tacitly agreed to allow an unresolved and sceptical truce to prevail, assisted by Nat being aware of, and sympathetic to, the fact that the Dutch brothers preferred to be seen as locals rather than being put into the same vulgar category as the other opportunistic foreign mercenaries they generally disliked, even despised, and essentially had no time for and avoided whenever possible.
Assuming correctly that the three of them had killed more people in more kinds of situations than he had in his brief introduction to killing as a necessity for survival, Ikaros was instantly intrigued by their level-headedness and lack of conceit for three relatively successful mercenaries — the Dutch brothers, for example, appeared merely to be quietly self-possessed — which made all three of them particularly stand out among most of the others he'd seen in town. However, despite their insistence that they had only taken jobs for 'the oppressed people of Botswana,' Ikaros thought this wording was potentially ambiguous as it could be applied to both sides at various times given the complicated circumstances and the propaganda war that was well underway, not to mention Nat's peculiar delivery of the claim, which seemed to be a bit over-practised. Ikaros nevertheless found their disgust towards the junta’s recent and current handling of the situation to be palpable and decided that, regardless of their past, he would give them the benefit of the doubt due to their otherwise intriguing and genuine style.
• • •
Three days later: just after 4 a.m.
Waiting calmly for several minutes already, Ikaros stands on the pavement in front of his hotel looking out at the pre-dawn sky, finding balancing difficult as he's been waking up around 10 a.m. for some time now; he gets a sharp tap on his shoulder accompanied by an alarm-like greeting. "Morning, dude!"
Being immediately shocked out of his half-conscious state, Ikaros spins his head to see Nat standing casually by his side smoking a cigarette. In response he mutters, "Ah, hey. How you doin'?"
"Did ya have breakfast?"
"Ah, no … not yet."
"Well, you should have. Where we're goin', there's not gonna be too many resources."
"Doesn't matter… I've packed something. I really just need a coffee right now."
"Where are the Dutch brothers, then?" asks Nat looking down the street in anticipation just before a four-door Jeep comes careering round the corner and moves unnecessarily swiftly through the gears as it bears down on the hotel, then comes to an excessively quick stop, tyres locking up in the dirt in the final few meters, annoyingly sending dust up and all around Nat and Ikaros. The Dutch brothers smile unapologetically, but otherwise just about ignore Ikaros and Nat as they hop in the back seat, not waiting for the doors to shut before starting off again. The driver suddenly speaks at Ikaros loudly and confidently while looking at him through the rearview mirror, "Now, don't worry about the border, we go over it all the time and we know the situation, okay?"
Ikaros nods without question, more interested in finding the seatbelt buckle. He doesn't know it yet, but he never comes to know either of their names nor learns how to differentiate one from the other with any systematic accuracy.
Five minutes later
"Did you bring all the money?" asks one.
"Ah, yeah."
"Give it to him, then," instructs the other one.
Ikaros gets the envelope out of his jacket pocket and hands it over to the twin in the passenger seat, who quickly begins to count it as they rapidly approach the border that's supposedly a secured South African military post. This fact is confirmed by Ikaros as he looks down the main road and spots a small transportable building, several vehicles, a symbolic portable boom gate, and a gathering of guards idling around nearby.
The driver brings the Jeep to a quick stop just next to seven officers standing around two armoured vehicles.
"Couldn't we have done this more discretely?" Ikaros whispers to Nat.
"Shh! Don't worry about it. It's normal. Don’t say anything."
The driver winds down his window as an officer approaches and leans down to speak. "Back again so soon, boys? Can't get enough of it, huh?" The officer, obviously familiar with the Dutch brothers, looks into the back seat, also recognises Nat and nods, then sees the new addition and without speaking to Ikaros directly asks, "Who's this one, then?"
"He's from Jo'berg," one twin declares casually and reassuringly as he hands him a wad of hundred-US6-dollar bills.
The officer starts thumbing nonchalantly through the notes and smiles cynically. "Yeah, I'm sure he is. Okay, then … have a great time, won't you? And be sure to come back in one piece, okay? We wanna see you guys again!"
"I'm sure you do," whispers Nat inaudibly for everyone but Ikaros.
The officer taps the roof of the Jeep a couple of times and steps back as the boom gate starts to rise; the driver releases the clutch and accelerates across the border, apparently changing gears as quickly as the Jeep will allow.
Ikaros notices something peculiar, then asks, "Why aren't there any Botswanan forces patrolling the border? And where're the refugees?"
"Good questions, both of them," replies Nat. "Firstly, anyone that could have been a refugee in this part of the country is dead already; and, secondly, the Botswanan junta need mercenaries."
"But mercenaries work for both sides, right?"
"Well, yeah, but to put it simply,” inserts one of the Dutch brothers, “most just like the chaos and the excitement of it all, regardless of what side they're on, but the money always helps to make a decision."
"Ah, look, Ikaros," begins Nat, "the junta just doesn't have the resources to deal with the inflow into the country: its military is stretched to the limits, just like everyone else's. They're not even gambling that most mercenaries will be unprincipled and fight for them if the money is good enough — things have passed that point already. They still 'advertise' that they pay the most and have the most mercenaries … and the best ones. Although that used to be the case, it's been changing lately … and they damn-well know it! Despite all their external funding, the fact is they're running out of money because they're corrupt, inefficient and wasteful, and have no sense for economics, which is no big surprise. And they haven't been able to pay anywhere near enough to satisfy many of their mercenaries for the past six to eight months … except the ones they can't underpay, nor do without.
"So, more and more are either changing sides and aligning themselves with an emerging warlord, whatever their reputation, or they've already moved on to hot spots elsewhere that are more profitable, which is why we've seen a reduction in the numbers in town lately. I mean, these are great times to be a mercenary in an increasing number of places around the world: you can simply pick and choose. Why would you take a pay cut here when you don't have to?!"
"It looked pretty packed from what I saw."
"You should have seen it before. I'm tellin' you."
"What about you guys,
then?" asks Ikaros naïvely.
"This may well be our last job here," replies the driver.
"We're thinking of making our way up north to the Congo or something," adds the other brother.
Ikaros notices that the three evidently have a mutual understanding about the situation here they've developed over time, so he accepts the low-down as having some degree of truth to it; he's also in no position to contradict it despite its being considerably different from what he had thought was going on here. He suddenly changes his mind about just needing a coffee, opens his bag, pulls out a sandwich, and begins to munch on it while looking out his side window at the sun, which is now rising over some nearby hills — the first African sunrise he's ever seen. He has some time to reflect on the beauty that can still occasionally be found in such dark and forsaken places.
Chapter 10
NEW WORLD TRILOGY (Trilogy Title) Page 8
