The Yoga Zapper--A Novel, page 14
“Come here,” ordered Kallin. “You are now Number Two.” The new Number Two nervously tugged its tie. Just then, another black-suited, black-tied Number crossed behind the balcony. Kallin ran over, caught it by the neck and dragged the quivering creature to the front of his chair.
“Who are you?” bellowed Kallin.
“I…I…I’m One Five Seven Three Two, sir,” it blubbered.
“No, you’re not,” shouted Kallin. “You’re now Number Three.” Kallin picked up the new Number Three and hurled it like a bowling ball. All three Numbers tumbled like nine pins. “Sound off.”
The three Numbers jumped up.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
The Numbers fidgeted with their ties, blinking stupidly at Kallin, not knowing what next to expect. Obviously, besides financial reports, other things, such as social situations, stumped them.
“Get the hell out of here and get to work,” shouted Kallin angrily. “Damn numbers. I hate Numbers.” The Numbers scrambled off in different directions. Despite the absurdity of the situation, Kallin’s vehemence frightened Jack. He quickly got up, walked back and sat next to Maya.
“The previous Number One must have been pretty bad,” he commented.
“Oh no. It was better than most. It lasted over six months. It’s difficult to keep getting more and more income from these ETAs. And if you don’t do better all the time, Kallin doesn’t like it.”
Jack leaned over and whispered “How do people bear it? Isn’t there some limit?”
Maya’s face whitened. She covered her mouth with her hand and leaned over. “Some of them are escaping civilization, living in mountains and hills or hiding in caves. Those are the rebels. Don’t ever mention them. Kallin gets furious. They’ll soon be caught and executed, all of them.”
Jack was intrigued. So people actually lived outside the grip of this tyranny! Mindful of Maya’s warning, he didn’t pursue the topic.
The roar suddenly increased in the pit below. The revised projections had reached the traders. The value of the ETA rose sharply.
“Sell it,” Kallin ordered, picking up a phone
They all relaxed, knowing that the day’s success would keep Kallin happy. Maya however, still burned.
“Watch this,” she murmured to Jack. “I’m going to put this stupid blonde in her place.”
She got up and walked to the table. “Made a profit again, didn’t you?” she asked Kallin.
“Of course. When don’t I make a profit?”
“I have an idea.”
Kallin regarded her, sharp-eyed. “Yes?”
“What if we charged them two thousand paysars to get their feet reattached?”
“Go ahead.”
“It costs only one thousand paysars for the operation. So you make a profit of a thousand on each of these ITUs and you save money by keeping them out of jail.”
“Yes, yes,” agreed Kallin, “those poor suckers deserve a break.” Maya smiled triumphantly.
“What do you think?” he questioned Jini. She grabbed a tablet and quickly pulled up a report. “According to our records, less than five percent of the Individual Taxation Units have savings over two thousand paysars. They just don’t have money for operations. So, it’s not going to work, pure and simple.”
“Excellent work,” proclaimed Kallin. “You’re exactly what I need around here.”
Jini smiled at Maya, showing all her teeth. “Better luck next time,” she said sweetly.
Chapter Seventeen
Kallington, End of Kali Yuga
After finishing their business in the International Legislative Exchange, Kallin displayed a fine mood again, slapping Jack on the back, joking with Jini, the anger from the morning dissipated by the profit in his pocket. Maya too appeared happy, though Jack suspected her lightness to be a show and nothing else. As they stepped out of the building, followed by the three Numbers and the national security advisor, Jack stopped to enjoy the cool breeze blowing in from the west. After the madness of the morning, the air felt positively fresh.
“I’m hungry,” declared Kallin.
“I know,” suggested Maya. “Let’s go to McBaby’s!”
“Excellent idea. Let’s have a quick lunch before heading off to the estate.”
The national security advisor stepped in. “It’s at the edge of the Rak slum sir. There may be some risk.”
“Who’s afraid of the Raks?” countered Kallin. “They love me. Besides, our security is joining us.”
Maya pushed herself next to Kallin in the limousine, but he looked out the window, avoiding eye contact while she avoided looking at Jack. Did she harbor anger against him, wondered Jack, or did Kallin’s presence explain this behavior? Jini pouted, but camped herself next to Jack. Four security vehicles followed. They drove along the boulevard for about a mile, turned onto a side street, stopped and climbed out. The guards cleared a path, shooing people out of the way. Maya’s presence reassured Jack. For the first time since leaving the estate, Jack found himself in a situation not fully controlled by Kallin. It felt both liberating and threatening—good to be in territory where, for all intents and purposes, all were equal, but at the same time, maybe more dangerous.
Before long, the street abruptly changed its character, becoming filthy and full of trash. A flood of humanity greeted Jack. And what a deluge! None of the inhabitants measured taller than four feet, some with limping bodies contorted into grotesque shapes, many missing eyes, arms or legs. But worse, the sullen despair and depravity smoldering in their eyes frightened him. Enduring the worst forms of exploitation, knowing of no better life, they accepted ceaseless torment as their normal condition. They shuffled hungrily out of the way on crippled, twisted legs. Given a chance, Jack surmised, they would treat each other with the same viciousness that they endured at Kallin’s hands.
Across the corner, at the beginning of the next block, a restaurant with large glass windows stood in a small square building having a sunny, yellow roof. Red brick buildings with flat roofs crowded the other sides of the intersection. Open gutters and dusty sidewalks lined the streets.
A bright red sign reading ‘McBaby’s’ nestled above the entrance to the fast food emporium. Inside, Jack noticed a large metal counter against the back wall with five attendees in striped red uniforms and, behind them, lighted signs detailing the menu. The place, featuring cheap gray cement floors and dark red brick walls, displayed a dozen black tables, each surrounded by four red plastic chairs. With the few loitering Raks cleared out, two soldiers guarded the entrance while other officers stood in different parts of the establishment. Jack, Kallin, Jini and the national security advisor sat at a table at the back while Maya and the three Numbers huddled at an adjacent one.
“Who wants burgers?” questioned Maya.
They all raised their hands. Some requested condiments and all wanted soda pop. Maya took it all down, walked to the counter and busied herself calling in the order.
Kallin turned to Jack. “So, are you enjoying your visit to the capitol?”
“It’s very interesting.” He picked up what the others learned long ago—to wisely keep on Kallin’s safe side, taking advantage of his good moods by currying his favor, but avoiding his temper. “Thank you so much for bringing me.”
“Yes, yes. The more you learn about us, the more you’ll be amazed how brilliantly things are set up. A guy just can’t lose.”
Maya returned with two big trays of burgers piled one on top of the other, the buns perfect brown ovals. She placed one platter in the center of Jack’s table with a flourish, and the other at her table. Kallin snatched one while Jini and the national security advisor took theirs in hand and the three Numbers chomped down. Jack’s hunger, unnoticed all this time, surfaced with a vengeance. He leaned over and seized a burger.
About to take a bite, he stopped, his hand midway to his mouth, and stared at Kallin. Something seemed strange about the manner in which he ate his burger, the way he chewed it, the sound it made when bitten into.
“Look!” shouted Jini, opening her bun open and peering excitedly at its contents.
“What is it?” questioned Jack.
“My burger’s got blue eyes!”
Kallin peered into Jini’s hamburger and laughed. Jack leaned over. There, lying on a bed of lettuce, covered with mustard, relish, pickles and smothered with special sauce, lay a tiny human fetus. An electric shock of revulsion jolted him. He collapsed into his chair in disbelief. Did his eyes lie? Was he mistaken? He got up and peered again at the horrifying hamburger. It was true! A tiny human being lay on that bun, its hands curled into tiny fists, its legs folded up.
He sat down, his heart beating wildly. His face turned pale and his hands clammed up. Jack nervously pushed his hair back across his head.
“What is this?” he exclaimed, the disgust in his voice apparent. Everyone turned their eyes on him. Kallin frowned.
“They’re McBaby burgers,” laughed Jini, feebly attempting to deflect the situation. “They’re made from baby Raks.”
Jack couldn’t believe her attempt to make light. “Where did it come from?” He scowled at Maya. She hastily plunked her uneaten burger down. Kallin glared at her.
“Why, silly,” crowed Jini. “They come from the cabbage patch, of course. Where else do burgers come from?”
Kallin laughed at her quick wit. His merriment a cue, the Numbers hooted loudly, slurped their soda pops and dove in for seconds, chewing noisily and with great relish.
“Is this what you people eat?” shouted Jack.
Maya attempted to calm him down, her voice wavering with fear. “We always have eaten this. There is no other food.”
“What do you mean?”
“We only eat a few types of meat.”
“How about vegetables?”
“Vegetables and fruits disappeared since the biotech disasters, hundreds of years ago.”
“How about grains like wheat or rice?”
“Same thing,” answered Maya. “None left.”
Jack couldn’t believe it. He picked up a bun. “What is this?” he demanded. “What is it made of? What about the lettuce? The pickles?”
“Plastic and garbage. What do they taste like?”
“Listen, you little punk,” interjected the Hand of God. “We’ve been eating Rak meat for the last three hundred years. Without it, we would have starved to death. Even the Raks would have died without Rak meat. Rak meat is the best type of meat.”
“I can’t believe it!” shouted Jack. “You’re all cannibals!”
Kallin’s face turned red. “What the hell are you barking about, you dog? You don’t like our food?”
“No,” Jack yelled back. “I don’t.”
A deathly quiet descended. Maya raised her shaking hands to her face and her mouth opened, but no sound escaped. A great anger built up in Jack’s stomach and hardened into a tight knot. He wanted so badly to slam his fist into Kallin’s arrogant face. Who was afraid of the Hand of God or any other stupid thing he called himself?
Jack threw his burger down on the table. “I’m getting the hell out of here,” he yelled and jumped out of his chair.
“Get him,” roared Kallin, furious, his face red with anger. The two soldiers guarding the front entrance ran up.
Suddenly, without warning, a loud explosion rocked the little restaurant. The windows exploded and blue streaks of pulsating energy slammed into its walls.
Chapter Eighteen
Kallington, End of Kali Yuga
“It’s the rebels,” screamed the national security advisor. As shattered glass showered down, they immediately dropped to the floor. The first volley of shots hit the two soldiers at the entrance and they dropped dead, black wounds burning on their torsos.
A jolt of green energy slammed into the wall behind Jack. Heat scorching the bricks radiated upon his back and he, along with Jini, Maya and the national security advisor, quickly crawled behind the counter. Kallin joined him, on hands and knees, shivering, his legs shaking. More shots screeched around them.
The remaining soldiers quickly threw tables and chairs into a sort of barricade and fired at the unseen enemy. The three Numbers, caught in the no-man’s land between the soldiers and the rebels, ran around in panicked circles, screaming in terror and within seconds dropped dead, briefcases in hand, as thin wafts of smoke curled out of their ears.
“Help me,” whimpered Kallin, shivering with fear. “Please help me!” Jack’s stomach turned with disgust.
Outside, pure pandemonium reigned. Shots poured in at all angles while hundreds of Raks scattered in fear. The soldiers fired wildly into the crowd, not caring who they hit. Dozens of Raks fell, some dying instantly while others writhed around, screaming in pain and agony.
“Call the police,” Kallin shouted. The national security advisor got on his phone. More green pulsing energy beams came streaking in. Suddenly, a huge explosion shook the entire building and bricks, loosened by the blast, tumbled on their heads. Maya screamed. Jack lay flat on the floor, hands covering his head. The smoke, the high-pitched whizz of the energy beams, the thunderous claps exploding on the walls, the screams of the injured soldiers, the falling bricks and the sheer unexpectedness of the attack panicked him. He breathed deeply, just barely controlling his fear. More detonations came, jolting him from head to toe. Obviously, the rebels were attempting to bring the whole structure down and kill the occupants.
Suddenly, five rebels jumped through the front window. They fired their guns into the cluster of tables. A fierce battle ensued. Three guards got shot in the abdomen. They grunted, screamed, writhed uncontrollably, and died. The remaining security men crawled out from behind the barricade and shot back, flashes of energy zipping relentlessly, killing all the rebels.
Only two guards survived the attack. At this rate, thought Jack, we’ll all die very quickly. Undoubtedly the attackers were regrouping. Another assault and they would be finished.
Suddenly, a loud whistle rent the air. Jack had heard it before. It radiated from a flying police vehicle and, quickly, others followed, and then many more. Several pounding explosions shook the area. Jack peeked over the counter. Brilliant flashes, like thick purple and red lightning screamed straight down from the sky and exploded into the ground, throwing up stones, dirt and pieces of pavement, as the entire neighborhood rocked under the violence of the counter-attack. Raks screamed and dozens dropped dead. Small arms fire rattled all over the neighborhood, followed by more retaliatory blasts. Then suddenly, all noise stopped. Jack waited with baited breath. Seconds later, several pairs of boots thumped into the restaurant.
“Police,” shouted a voice. No one moved. Kallin still cringed on the floor beside Jack. More boots pounded the floor.
“Police!” repeated the voice. “Is anyone here?” The two remaining guards staggered to their feet.
“Yes,” one said. “We are President Kallin’s security detail.”
“All clear,” said the policeman.
“President Kallin,” said one guard, walking over, “The perimeter is secure. It is safe for you to come out.” Kallin staggered up, his legs shaking.
Jack stood, wiped his face and breathed deeply. The rebels had devastated the restaurant, smashed its windows and broken its walls. Smoke, smelling of burnt paint and flesh, filled the air and black and purple stains seared the still-hot floors. The restaurant personnel lay draped over the counter like macabre decorations or rested on the floor like crumpled rag dolls, dead as the meat they once served.
The police saluted and shouted, “Victory to the Hand of God!” Kallin’s face darkened and his hands shook badly. Maya rushed to his side but he pushed her away. He scratched his beard angrily as General Contog walked in.
“What the hell happened here?” shouted Kallin, his words as red as his mood. “Why did you take so long to get here? Your men are supposed to be at any emergency in five minutes.”
“You were attacked by the rebels, sir. We couldn’t start our defensive operations until we were absolutely sure of your location.”
“Yes, yes,” agreed Kallin, mollified. “Let’s go outside.”
Jack walked shakily behind them and leaned his back against a remnant of the restaurant’s wall. Though mid-afternoon, the sky turned dark and low black clouds rumbled menacingly. A hard red tint colored the distant horizon and a cold wind blew in from the west, bringing a billowing dust that swirled into his eyes.
The intersection painted a picture of horror. Fragments of the eatery’s roof lay shattered on the sidewalk. Nothing of the restaurant’s front escaped destruction and its walls remained in name only. Hundreds of dead Raks, rebels, and burning vehicles littered the streets. Soldiers picked up the dead and threw them to the edges of the street, their blood flowing in myriad streams into the open gutters. Screams of incapacitated Raks filled the air, but the uncaring soldiers threw them on top of their dead comrades.
Several thousand soldiers created a ring around the restaurant and the intersection, and a huge sea of Raks gathered just behind them. On the flat rooftops of the low brick buildings overlooking the scene, more collected, silent for the moment. Hundreds of noiselessly floating police vehicles, their blue and white lights silently circling into the black clouds, their spotlights illuminating the ground, hovered above. Soldiers sat in the open bays, observing everything. Far from the scene, about a mile away, airborne vessels shot enormous bolts of purple into suspect buildings, the explosions echoing like muffled thunder.
The national security advisor ran up to General Contog. “Has this area been secured?” he asked.
“Yes, completely.”
“What about those Raks?” he asked, pointing to the assembled crowd.
“We have screened them all fully.”
An eerie quiet blanketed the scene. Kallin walked to the center of the intersection, surrounded by a group of police. He stopped, bade the men to step aside and, taking a weapon from one of them, blasted green electric flames high into the sky. The crowd instantly recognized him.
