The Four Kings Read online

  “Seven more to go?”

  “Right on,” Demus said, excited.

  And so on it went. Amanda thoroughly examined every pool in which they ended up in, and using her own resources, figured out the gateway to the next pool. Some were ingeniously clever, and she needed hints from Demus, but in the end, she nailed them all. Once they were in the last pool, they were laughing, giddy with their accomplishments. Then Demus raised his hand, and they were back on the floor of Emerana, fully clothed and completely dry.

  Amanda gazed up at the ceiling. The floating spheres of water had disappeared.

  She gazed at her companion. “That was beautiful.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Demus said. He appeared to be blushing.

  She searched for her words. “It’s like… it’s like art and play at the same time. It’s inspirational.”

  Demus came closer to her, invading her personal space. The look on his face told it all. She was apprehensive about what commitment he wanted from her, and how she’d deal with it.

  “Yes, it is. Now you can see why we wizards are so well-equipped to deal with the severe problems affecting Earth. We’ve trained ourselves well.”

  Amanda said nothing.

  Demus gently took one of her hands with both of his. “Amanda,” he said softly, “You’re an incredible woman.” His head was down. Then he locked eyes with hers. “And you’re beautiful. Even if I’m a wizard, if you want to know me better, don’t feel that you have to hold back.”

  Amanda furiously processed her thoughts, trying to formulate a response. Finally she said, “Demus, you brought me here against my will. It’s not appropriate. I’m reporting to millions of citizens – Mortals, as you call them – and I shouldn’t be emotionally involved with their employees, which means you and Justica and Indie and Regi.”

  Demus exhaled loudly. He looked away. Then he pointed a finger at her, his voice angry. “I don’t care what Indie or Justica or Regi think, and I certainly don’t care what millions of Mortals think. It’s just you and me. Why make it so complicated?”

  Amanda felt lousy. At no fault of hers, while she was just doing her job, she’d managed to provoke one of the four Liberators that governed her home continent. She held out her arms plaintively. “Demus, it’s complicated. Don’t make me feel that way about you.”

  His face softened, but he was still peeved. “All right,” he said, “I’ll take you back.”

  Amanda spread her feet slightly apart as if to steady herself, ready for the trip.

  “Oh – and Amanda?”

  “Yes?”

  Demus appeared deadly serious. “Don’t tell anyone about this. No Mortal’s ever supposed to visit Emerana.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Six months post-Liberation

  Another week, another Petition Day.

  Amanda in her role as Supreme Liaison. Her staff now numbered two hundred and fifty, as the ever-increasing demands on her time required more professionals to act as her filters. She loved her job, but was conscious that it wouldn’t last forever. She’d anticipated what would happen when the Liberators resigned after their reign and she was once more on her own. Maybe I could work for the United Nations, assuming it still exists, she thought.

  “First petition,” she announced as Indie kicked off the meeting, “from Josh Tanner of Waynesburg, Pennsylvania.” She drew in her breath, “He is incarcerated at a super maximum prison administered by the State Correctional Institution, Greene.”

  The four Liberators appeared astonished at this information.

  Indie calmly said, “Thank you, Amanda. I’m responsible for law and order, so perhaps I should answer the questions. Good morning, Mr. Tanner. What would you like to ask?”

  Tanner, an older looking man with thinning hair and pudgy cheeks, appeared on screen. “Mrs. Indie, you’re the one running the show? I need to talk to you.”

  Indie smiled grimly. “You may address me as Indie. Not Mrs. Indie. Do you have a question?”

  “You bet your ass I do,” he started off, but was cut short by Indie.

  “I want you to understand one thing,” Indie angrily reprimanded him, “There is to be no swearing or foul language during these discussions. If you do it again, we’ll cut you off. Do you understand?”

  Tanner appeared startled, then said, “Sorry, missus.” He thought some more. “I’m up for the needle in ten days. You gotta pardon me.”

  The Liberators sat impassively, stone faced. Indie glanced at her three companions for any clue. None. She turned back to the screen. “I don’t understand.”

  Amanda jumped in. “In the United States, we still carry out the death penalty. Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Tanner, but it appears you’re a prisoner and you’ve been sentenced to death for your crimes. You said in ten days, an officer’s going to administer you a lethal injection and end your life?”

  The faces of the four Liberators paled as they now understood what the petition was.

  “Aye, Mrs. Amanda,” Tanner said, nodding, appearing too casual for a man whose life was at stake. “That’s right. I meet my Maker in ten days if no one does the…” He paused, clearly stopping himself from swearing. “…does anything about it.”

  “The United States is the only country in North America that still has the death penalty,” explained Amanda, “and I’m not completely sure, but there are certain states that have it and some that don’t. Obviously Pennsylvania still has it.”

  “That’s d – … yes, that’s right,” Tanner again restrained himself.

  Amanda concluded, “So what Mr. Tanner wants you to do, is to grant him clemency, and he’ll still serve the rest of his prison term, but he will not die in ten days.” She sat down, checking her papers.

  The four wizards looked at one another, checking each other’s’ expressions.

  Demus rubbed his hands together in false cheer, “Well, so we finally get to decide on a man’s life.” He coughed. Addressing Tanner, he said, “What crime did you commit?”

  “I didn’t commit no crime!” Tanner spat out. “I was framed!”

  Demus held up his hand. “What I meant to ask was what crime were you accused of?”

  “Some murder of a neighbor, that’s all.”

  The Liberators all continued to exhibit startled glances, sitting ramrod straight.

  Tanner continued. “But Jesse covered up real good, I just broke up their fight, he was pounding that guy like—”

  Indie spoke out loud, “We’re not interested in the details of the murder, Mr. Tanner. Stop here. So you were convicted of a murder?”

  “I wasn’t convicted of anything! This is all a lie!”

  Amanda attempted her best professional voice, “Mr. Tanner, you were definitely convicted. In our country, no one is sentenced to death row without a proper trial and sentencing. You may deny it, but the fact is that the court has rendered its decision. We’re not here to assuage your guilt over again. I think what you’re saying is that you want the Liberators to rescind the death penalty.”

  Tanner mumbled emphatically, making it hard for the five participants to follow him. “Well! It’s not – I dunno what that word means, but I’m innocent! Just take away the needle – please!”

  All right,” Indie said to her three comrades, “This much is obvious. If we keep the death penalty, this man dies in ten days. If we remove it, this man will live, but stays in prison until the end of his sentence, which is probably until his natural death anyway. He does not confess to the crime. Start the debate.”

  Tanner burst out, “Lemme tell you, Jesse said…”

  Indie quickly muted Tanner’s protests by extending her hand, her expression betraying impatience. “I don’t think he’ll bother us again.”

  “I’ll start with a quote,” said Justica. “The quality of mercy is not strained. It drops as the gentle rain from heaven. By William Shakespeare.”

  “I’ll counter that,” said Demus, “Eye for eye, tooth for tooth. Matthew, 5:38.�
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  Regi spoke out. “Let’s refer to the Ten Doctrines. Clearly, number two applies. Do not use force.“

  “The Ten Doctrines?” Amanda said. She raised her hand.

  “Yes. It’s the Bible of the Wizards,” Indie explained. “Our guiding principles. Christianity has the Ten Commandments, and we have our own.”

  Demus pointed his finger at Regi. “Ah ha. But it’s overruled by number six. Remove obstacles. This man’s clearly an obstacle to our society. He has been convicted of a murder. He’s an obstacle, in his own meager way, because society’s required to feed and clothe him, although he has nothing to contribute. Should he die, it will cost nothing further.”

  “I am persuaded by Demus’ point,” said Regi. “Number two doesn’t apply. The use of force is only for one minute. It is justified. There will be no further force by government on this individual for the rest of his life, as he’ll be dead. The only force will be that of gravity, inside his coffin.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “I’m also convinced by Demus’ sound argument,” said Justica. “There’s no sense in economically continuing this charade. He has been tried in a court of law. He has been found guilty. There’s no need to prolong the agony.”

  Amanda turned her head to the giant screen. Tanner was extremely animated, his mouth flapping wildly as he shouted out obscenities. But no one could hear him because of the magic spell. Although she was looking at the face of a murderer, she felt sorry for him.

  “It is resolved,” Indie said, “we all agree. He dies in ten days. The authorities detaining him have our permission to kill him now, rather than in ten days, as it’d be an economic waste in the interim.”

  Amanda started to open her mouth to protest, but she realized, once again, she didn’t make the decisions. She was only the Supreme Liaison.

  “Next Petitioner,” Indie said, glaring at Amanda. “Get on with it.”

  Amanda found her voice. “Inga Rothstein, Director of the Ratepayers Committee, Nashua, New Hampshire.”

  A pleasant-looking older lady, with golden horn-rimmed glasses spoke softly on the screen. “I’m terribly sorry to take up your time, Liberators. I can’t imagine how you find all the time to govern over five hundred million people. It must be so staggering.”

  Justica replied, “That’s why we’ve always had Amanda Fullerton, Mrs. Rothstein. She’s doing an incredible job.”

  Mrs. Rothstein’s eyes sparkled as she smiled. “I’m inclined to agree, Ms. Justica.” She glanced at the paper in front of her, holding up her glasses so that she could peer underneath them. “I represent the citizens of Nashua, which Ms. Fullerton has already identified. We’re a very proud town, and we’re in desperate need of a new recreation facility, so that people can come in to play a few rounds of basketball, do several laps of swimming, and umm, have the young men come in to lift weights. With thirty four percent local unemployment, we badly need to give our people support, people who otherwise would stay at home, being unproductive.”

  “Unproductive? Perish the thought!” said Indie, sympathizing.

  The lady lifted her glasses again. “We have a blueprint for an Olympic size swimming pool, a quarter mile running track, babysitting facilities primarily for single mothers…”

  “That’s enough,” Indie snapped, causing the lady to get slightly flustered. “What are you asking for? Are you asking for us to establish this recreational facility for your town?”

  “Yes.”

  Indie turned toward Amanda. “Why wasn’t this done through your staff?”

  Amanda’s face grew red. She shuffled through her papers, almost panicking. In her mind, she could imagine the five hundred million residents of North America boring in on her, although only a fraction of them were probably watching. Highly organized, she quickly scanned through the list and found the submission.

  “Yes, Nashua, New Hampshire, is on record here,” Amanda acknowledged. “Submitted six weeks ago…”

  “Actually, seven weeks ago,” Mrs. Rothstein corrected her.

  “Yes. Well, it hasn’t been done yet, and I apologize. We have no other projects on the waiting list. I’m not sure why this wasn’t done.”

  Justica leaned slightly forward. “Mrs. Rothstein, please accept our apologies. This fine facility will be constructed tomorrow morning at ten a.m.”

  Mrs. Rothstein bowed her head slightly as a sign of respect. “Thank you.”

  Amanda caught her breath. “Next petitioner, Slavica Hatch, President of the Laborers International Union of North America.”

  The screen changed, and an image of a middle aged redhead, wearing a dark green dress appeared. “Good morning,” she said somewhat testily, “I’ll get to the point. You’ve all developed a reputation for directness, so I’ll do that as well.”

  “By all means,” Demus said with a sly grin.

  Her hands shaking, Hatch read from a prepared statement, not looking up at the camera. “Speaking on behalf of our five hundred thousand members, we’re most deeply disturbed by your subversion of our proud construction industry. Hundreds of thousands of proud men and women, with extensive skills in design, layout, construction, operation of machinery, and safety, have been thrown out of work by your actions.”

  “Getting warm yet?” Demus teased her.

  Hatch looked up, startled. Not sure how to respond, she quickly glanced at her prepared statement. “We ask that the Liberators cease to construct buildings and facilities across North America until—”

  “Ms. Hatch,” Indie intervened, extending her arm forward, “who’s going to pay for your services, when they can just ask us to do the job for free?”

  Hatch appeared upset. “No one. In fact—”

  Indie rested her chin onto her hands. “Isn’t this the definition of productivity? Getting the job done at minimal cost?” Hatch opened her mouth, but Indie lectured her further, “I dare you. Are you going to ask the citizens of Nashua to pay millions of dollars for their well-deserved recreational facility? Are you going to deny the single mothers of Nashua their chance to take a much-needed break from their busy, frantic lives?”

  “You’re wrong! Furthermore—”

  “Amanda, nuke her,” Indie commanded. Astonished, Amanda pushed the mute button, and Hatch could no longer be heard, nor seen on screen. Indie’s angry visage continued on-screen.

  “What I don’t understand is why not all folks appreciate this!” Indie retorted, as if speaking to herself. “You’d think we were criminals, offering a multi-million dollar facility to thousands of law-abiding, decent citizens!” Her hands tightened. “The nerve!”

  “Calm down,” Regi admonished her, appearing flabbergasted, “Just cool it.”

  Indie bit her lips. “I’m sorry.” She turned toward the camera, “Mortals, I apologize. I take our duties very seriously. There are millions of you out there, and we’ve advanced this society by leaps and bounds.” She looked at Amanda. “We were going to save this for Debate Day, but Amanda, go ahead, tell them the latest statistics.”

  Once more caught off guard, Amanda expertly located the sheet she was looking for. Intoning solemnly, she read, “The statistics are startling, mind you, and we haven’t completely verified them yet.”

  “Just go ahead, Amanda,” Demus crossly told her, obviously too excited to withhold the news any further.

  “All right. Unemployment has vastly improved, from twenty-two percent three months ago, to fourteen and a half percent today. That’s the fastest improvement ever recorded for a continent in statistical history. Inflation has declined sharply to seven percent, again the fastest decline ever recorded. Productivity has improved by a considerable twenty-nine percent quarter over quarter.”

  Amanda looked up at the four wizards. They were all exhibiting smug expressions, nodding among themselves. The silence was omnipresent.

  “And,” she concluded, “popularity of the Liberators in North America is now near
majority territory, at forty-five percent in favour and forty-seven percent opposed. The remainder has no opinion.”

  Regi and Demus pumped their hands into the air. “Woo hoo!” they cheered, and Indie and Justica clapped.

  “So, Mortals, you’ve heard first-hand how our political and economic reforms have greatly advanced your standards of living. Freed of oppressive taxes and governments, your people are now realizing their vast, untapped potential.” Indie paused, near tears. “We Liberators are just your guides. The talent and the know-how all resides in each one of you. You make us all proud.”

  Despite herself, Amanda clapped, and then stopped suddenly.

  In a fit of exuberance, Regi instantly popped up beside Amanda, gave her an overbearing hug, and then just as quickly reappeared in his seat. The three other wizards laughed to see such a spectacle. Dazed, Amanda gazed around, not sure what to believe next.

  “I think we’ll take a commercial break.”

  The four wizards laughed at her unforced error.

  “I mean,” Amanda struggled to find her next words, “We’ll take a fifteen-minute break.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Eight months post-Liberation

  Amanda rubbed her eyes, which had glazed over at the latest bitcoin report. The instant data reporting of the bitcoins – over a trillion transactions per day – had generated gigantic volumes of economic data, now the envy of generations of economists. Nowadays, gross domestic product could be computed by the second, whereas pre-Liberators, they could only be calculated (and in rough form at that) once per month. And no messy conversions such as foreign exchange rates to muddle the data. It was pure. But it was helluva lot of work.

  She was dressed in flannel pyjamas, hunched over her desk in her bedroom, gazing out the windows at San Francisco Bay. The entire Liberators’ Headquarters was heavily guarded. Due to her international fame, Amanda rarely went out anymore. Everyone wanted her attention. She had instant name recognition, and was simply known everywhere as “Amanda.”