by Rani Manicka
And the multitudes asked him, “What then must we do?”
- Luke 3:10
The sun had not even appeared on the horizon when the old man set off. He glanced at it, high and bright in the African sky. Another two hours remained of his journey. He had to get to the voting station before two o’clock or he would lose his chance to vote. His clothes were worn and torn, and his bare feet were as hardened and gnarled as tree roots on the dusty path. He had never learned to wear shoes. Shoes and vaccines were white man’s curses. This way he was always connected to the Earth. He knew what she was thinking. She was his mother. He carried a staff and around his thin, lined neck he wore the bones that his ancestors had worn since before time began. He was a witch doctor, but he hardly practiced his profession anymore. Nowadays everyone went to the clinics. There was almost no business left; a spell or two, and even those were stretched out in the month.
He squinted against the sun. His belly rumbled loudly. It was yesterday that someone had given him some plantain to eat. In a small leather pouch where he carried his holy stones he had put his birth certificate. Though he had never used it and had never imagined he would need it before this, it was frayed and badly stained. Still the information it carried was discernible and that was all that mattered. There was a beetle on his path and he carefully avoided stepping on it. She was a daughter of the Earth.
When he got to the voting station he saw that many had already gathered outside the wooden shelter. The ones in front were squatting and the ones at the back were standing. They were half-chatting and half-listening to the speeches made by the headmen of the different villages. There was a man videotaping the event. They seemed to be mostly men, but there were a few women and children too. They were seated on the ground lazily swatting away the flies. He didn’t know who had organized the event but someone from the city had come to collect their votes and names.
He stood for some minutes listening to the men speak. Each had come forward on behalf of their villages to collect the money that the Americans were giving. They spoke of how the money would help them in their moment of need. Some even thanked God for this act of kindness and charity.
Finally he stepped forward.
‘Which village do you represent?’ the man in charge of organizing the event asked.
Odingo looked around the gathered faces - even though he was more than eighty years old his eyesight was so good that he could discern even the whites of the eyes of the men who stood at the back. He felt their hunger and inexhaustible poverty in his own empty belly.
‘I speak for no one but myself,’ he declared. His voice was strong and rang out like a bell in the dusty afternoon.
‘Speak then, old man, and be quick about it,’ called a youth impatiently.
‘One hundred American dollars,’ Odingo cried out suddenly, and cast his unblinking eyes around the crowd. The whites of his eyes were red, making him look fierce and frightening. ‘That is what the devil has offered to buy your soul.’ A murmur of unease spread through the gathering. ‘So we agree to kill this innocent child to fill our bellies and our children’s bellies for one month or two, or even three, but then what?’ He paused. A great hush fell upon the crowd. Only the insects dared speak.
‘I’ll tell you what.’ He jabbed a horribly yellowed and curving fingernail toward the crowd. ‘You will be hungry once more, but then you will be a hungry murderer. What use to prolong your life if you have to steal the life of another to do it? Are we vampires? They came for our grandfathers, made them slaves; our fathers they made poor: now will they have us as vicious as them? When we kill this boy, we kill ourselves. Awaken to your actions.’ He thumped his bony chest with his fisted hand. ‘I will die before I take one drop of blood from this boy simply to keep this rotting carcass alive. Never.’
‘He is dying anyway.’ It was the youth again, but his voice was different, hesitant. He did not know how to stand alone. He needed to be in the midst of a crowd to feel safe, to be brave. ‘Have you seen the way the votes are? Our votes will not make a difference. The boy has no chance.’
‘The boy has a chance.’ Odingo’s sunken eyes shone with a strange light. ‘He is protected by divine forces. I have seen it in a dream. But that is not of concern. We do what is right, our responsibility. We must cast our friendly eyes in his direction. Beyond that nothing is expected of us.’ He banged his staff on the podium he stood upon. The crowd jumped. ‘I vote no.’
A young girl standing in the middle of the crowd called out, ‘I will vote no too, Grandpa.’
Her father looked down at his daughter in shock; she had been ever the quiet little thing since her mother had died. He had come here to feed her. She looked up at him. ‘Don’t worry, Father, I’m not hungry,’ she said. He looked into those familiar dark eyes and, blinking back the tears in his eyes, he raised his head and in a loud voice said, ‘I vote no too, Grandpa.’
It began with the women, like a murmur that grew louder and louder until it was a great roar. One by one and then in groups they rose from their squatting positions and joined the chorus. ‘I will vote no too, Grandpa.’
The old man nodded. He felt proud of his people. The white man had come to enslave, rape, plunder, and steal their land and its riches. As if that was not enough he had brought his manufactured diseases and his ungodly vaccines, all while carrying a book that preached love and forgiveness. But his people were people of spirit. They survived and they would survive again without this blood money.
‘Bah one hundred dollars!’ he said, and spat on the ground.
From the shade of a tree a teenager, a visiting American student, was using his phone to record the entire event. That night he did some minor editing to his tape and uploaded it to his YouTube channel.
The next morning Jennifer went to Kim’s table. ‘We have a video going viral.’
‘Yeah, I saw that, but look here. There is something weird going on around the world. In India, hundreds of gurus, some of whom have been meditating in the jungles and the Himalayan mountains for years, have come out to urge the Indians to vote no. And in Russia, an old, blind, eighty-year-old psychic has come out of her self-imposed exile to encourage all Russians to vote no. But here’s the bizarre thing. She has had exactly the same vision as many American psychics. She claimed to be have been visited by a blue-eyed, blonde girl who told her that the fate of humanity rests on our collective decision. From the Balinese to the Inuit, the indigenous psychics the world over are all telling their flock to vote no. The no votes are pouring in so thick and fast we are nearly reaching the five hundred million mark and the yes vote has almost frozen by comparison.’
Kim laughed. ‘What do you know? The boy is winning.’
‘I voted yesterday,’ Dan confessed almost shyly, and Kim launched herself at him.
Stunned by the swelling curves of the body under her blue sweater Dan held his hands around her awkwardly.
‘Thank you, Wells,’ she said, tilting her face up to him and laughing exuberantly. She had never called him Wells before. He grinned and hugged her back. Her hair smelt lemony. Kim had odd ideas, but this thing he had for barefoot gypsies was getting simply too great to resist. Maybe he will pick up the courage and ask her out to the Red Dragon.
Steve and Mary exchanged surprised glances. ‘I’m off to do some voting too,’ Steve said and scuttled off to his table.
‘Well, since everybody else is,’ said Mary with a wink.
‘Hey, you know what’s weird?’ said Kim disentangling herself from Dan.
‘What?’
‘China’s the only country that hasn’t changed its voting pattern. I wonder why?’
Black cat or white cat: if it can catch mice, it is a good cat.
- Deng Xiaoping
Chu Lai walked into his supervisor’s room with his laptop securely tucked under his left arm. It was a large room with a massive portrait of Chairman Mao hanging on one wall. He shivered slightly. The air-conditioning unit was always turn
ed up to maximum.
‘What is it?’ Sun Li said without looking up. He was a fat man with a wife, four mistresses, and five children. His hair was thick and straight with a side parting and his small, suspicious eyes broadly scanned the page of the newspaper he was reading.
‘Our agents have detected that many of our citizens are playing the American death game. In total 675,000 people have voted yes.
‘The American death game?’ the leader asked, turning the page of his newspaper.
Chu Lai opened his laptop and carefully placed it next to the newspaper. Sun Li eyed the screen emotionlessly. When the screen went back to the image of the boy he turned his attention back to his newspaper. ‘And how many no votes?’
‘Three hundred. But to be honest this is a good opportunity for some of our citizens to make some money. After all, if the Americans are crazy enough to throw away their dollars our people should go for it.’
Sun Li turned another page. ‘Did I ask for your opinion?’
Chu Lai’s face turned red. ‘No sir. Of course not. I apologize profusely, Sir. It won’t happen again.’
‘Who is running the game?’
‘It looks like it has the protection of the black section of the American government.’
‘What are our figures compared to the other countries?’
‘Unfortunately sir, as it stands we are the only country that has more yeses than noes.’
His black eyes left the newspaper. ‘What? What about Nigeria with all its crooks and thieves?’ he demanded.
‘No, sir.’ Chu Lai turned the laptop toward himself. He tapped a few keys and turned the screen to face his superior again. ‘Here are the exact figures.’
But his boss waved his effort away. ‘India?’ he queried with the same unemotional voice. ‘Surely with so many beggars their people are poorer than ours.’
Chu Lai shifted uncomfortably. ‘No, sir. In fact, they have many millions more voting no than yes. Something in the region of a hundred million.’
‘Mmmm.’ Sun Li laced his fat fingers on his princely belly. ‘Do you see now how we look when we debase ourselves for a currency that has been so debased it is almost worthless? If they were giving an ounce of gold or silver it would be worth it.’
It might have been a joke, but Chu Lai did not dare smile. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Send out a decree that anybody who votes yes from now on will be fined the equivalent two hundred American dollars in Yuan. And anybody who votes no will get a letter of commendation from the leader. Let’s see which country beats us for the kindness of our hearts.’
Acta est fabula, plaudite!
(The play is over, applaud!)
- Said to be Emperor Augustus’s
last words
It was Carter who first showed Black that human beings kept colors around them. This must be what they call the aura, he thought. Carter’s was murky and splintered into many jagged bits. Ever since Black had touched Yuri, unusual things had been happening to him. Yesterday, while being cleaned he had felt the scrape of the washcloth on the soles of his feet. Ticklish. And last night, even more incredibly, it had taken him a whole minute, but he had actually blinked!
‘I thought you might want to see this,’ Carter said, coming into the room and changing the channel on the TV. ‘The President of the United States of America is giving an address about you. The message is being beamed all over the world: billions of people worldwide will be watching this.’
Black looked at the screen and there he was, the President of the United States of America. Tall, black and statesman like. He managed to sound at once caring and forceful. ‘My heart goes out to this poor child,’ he began. ‘How frightened and alone he must be. If you can hear us, we warn you that we, as a nation, will not allow this heinous travesty on our soil. We are looking for you and we will not rest until we find you.
‘To those who have perpetrated this crime, I say, “This is your last warning. Give up this sick game and free this innocent child, or you will feel the might of this great nation upon you. You can run but you cannot hide. We will hunt you down. You will not be safe no matter where you go.” He paused. Was that a tear that he was wiping away? ‘But this is also one of those moments that makes me proud to be human, to know that people from all over the world are coming together to rescue this innocent child with their votes. On behalf of him I thank you all.’
‘Does he know the truth about me?’
‘Not the details obviously, but he is an obedient worker to his masters; he understands that it is not the dastardly terrorist plot he pretending it is. Politics is a dirty game.’ He checked his watch. ‘Now I have to set up your TV. In ten minutes Kite will be calling to speak to you.’
‘Why has he not come himself?’
Carter shrugged. ‘Who’s gonna know?’ he said and began the process of setting up the video camera so it faced the screen; Black assumed so it would enable Kite to read his thoughts and responses.
A man Black did not recognize came on the screen. ‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Yup,’ replied Carter.
‘OK, I’ll put him through.’
Kite’s pale face came on. ‘Well, it appears you won.’
Instantly Black felt a cold claw within him. It was not fear, it was like a warning. A premonition of danger ahead. Instinctively, he knew where he would find the cause of his uneasiness. He glanced at the screen and to his astonishment the yes figure had suddenly picked up enormous speed and was racing upwards so quickly it was almost a blur. He could not understand it. He was winning, and so far ahead, and now the game was going the other way. Then he understood. Foul play. His eyes swung back to Kite. ‘What are you doing to the results?’
‘Ah, that. The computer is now running on its default algorithm.’ He chuckled at Black’s naivety. ‘What do you think the stock market, the precious metals markets, and all the voting systems run on? We decide everything. Nothing is real. It’s all one big illusion. Didn’t your friend tell you that?’
‘Does the rule of free will still apply when one is playing with a cheater?’
‘I’m afraid it does. One should know better than to play with a…er…cheat. But in this case at least, there is no cheating involved. There was nothing in our agreement about what results the world would be given.’ His eyes were cold. ‘You won this one and you will get everything you were promised.’
Black remembered. To win they must first destroy your heart. ‘So that is what this game is really about. Tricking the masses into believing the lie that the human heart is such a cold and calculating thing that it would send an innocent boy to his death for a mere one hundred dollars.’
‘Through strange angles are the gates through which my ancient Lord may come. The killing of the god is a universal custom in my world. It is called Agarthi. God was created in man’s image so as to represent him and the sacrifice of one brings untold despair. The horror that comes of the killing of the god feeds the formless ones.’
Black glanced at the screen. The yes figure was already close to overtaking the no figure.
‘Won’t it look suspicious, all these yes votes coming in so fast?’
‘Mass media is the link between power and the masses. Without it to shape and mold ideas there would be uproar and resistance at every step of the agenda. They will do their job. And the sheep will believe everything they see and hear.’
After the euphoria of thinking he had won, Black felt sick with despair. He thought he had done something good for humanity. Instead he had evoked their participation in their own oppression.
‘Did you imagine that you would save everyone?’ Kite mocked. ‘Most of them are beyond hope. They don’t care about anything except the selfish thoughts and desires created in their tiny brains and what happens in their meaningless nine to five existences. They wake up in the morning, jump onto their technological leashes, punch some buttons, and actually believe that they are experiencing something valuable. Their pointless live
s are not worth saving. They are fatted cattle that must be culled. Let the rider of the pale horse pass among them. Let them be the last of their kind.’
‘I thought that is what you wanted, obedient worker bees for your hive.’
‘This lot!’ Kite spat contemptuously. ‘Of course not. They are nothing, but a fornicating, lazy, stupid herd imbued with ideas of individuality and freedom. No, no, what we are aiming for is a scientifically created race that will be intelligent, hard-working, and free of sexual urges. They will be connected to a world brain. Control of all living beings will be from outside by us. And that day is coming.’
‘You sneer at them for their stupidity and laziness when it was you who made them like that.’
Kite’s horribly pale hand came up to wave away something. A fly that was trying to land on his face. Black noticed that he wore a black ring. In his head he heard the phrase:
And God had a ring. With his name on it. Until his ringed hand swept upon the air of heaven, fruit could not fall and die, because nothing could die.
Black looked at Kite in shock. The words formed on the computer screen without his control.
Your god is a demon.
Instead of being upset, Kite looked as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘Look around you. Does it look like your god is in charge or mine? My god created all of yours. We are the illuminated. We will inherit everything.’
‘Demons lie. You appear to be a big man, controlling so many and yet you are only a pawn of the real controllers, aren’t you? They tempt you with Earthly pleasures and power, but what of your soul? Will it burn in hell?’
Kite appeared genuinely amused. ‘Is that what your god taught you? I will not burn in hell. When I perform the rituals to leave this body, I will become one with my master, and be as powerful as him.’
‘So why did you want to meet Green?’
Kite’s eyes glittered. He must have been in a place where the temperature was quite high, because the pesky fly was back. He waved it away impatiently. ‘I suppose it can hardly matter now. He has the codes. I wanted them. I still do. ’
