DAY 1
I awoke this morning with a smile on my face as usual. It was that jubilant feeling that I got whenever I remembered how fortunate I was to live in paradise. I step out of my hut to look at the rising sun. The seagulls cry loudly in the distance. My feet sink into the cool sand. The waves crash into the shore. This is the life of a fisherman, you see. A fisherman’s life is filled with peace and tranquility. I turn back into my hut to see what needs to be done before I set out for work. My hut was made of chopped bamboo and had large squares cut into the wall for windows. I get by with my books and a radio I occasionally turn on. One would say I’m poor but only foolish men function off the value of gold.
This is Emerald Island, and what a beautiful island it is. It is truly a gem. The weather is phenomenal and it has never rained. The people are awfully friendly and the children run about causing all sorts of shenanigans along the streets. The women are goddesses that walk amongst the living, each one looking more beautiful than the last. The elderly sail boats during the day and rest during the cool breezy nights. All is well and no one troubles each other. There is no crime rate here, there never has been. People gracefully the streets without fear; a prime reason I moved here from Nigeria six years ago.
Emerald Island is part of an Achipelago in the western hemisphere. This island is generally known for its fishing and the emerald caves. The emerald caves attract thousands of tourists per year, making out markets highly prosperous. It’s a simple and fortunate cycle that keeps the island funded, flourishing and wealthy. The buildings and structures of the island are all organized into districts. We are one bi filing cabinet neatly arranged in order of importance. Each district forms a ring around the central plaza. The first district was for government. There are several other districts all specializing in certain fields of expertise. The island also had two ports, two harbors and three piers. Regardless of the town’s simplicity, nothing out of the ordinary ever happens. Work is genuinely my top priority.
I wake up every morning at four o’ clock to get ready for work. The boats have to be loaded up by half past four and we all had to be in the ocean by five o’ clock. Our company, Eternal Independence, is the most famous of the other sixteen companies that are based in Emerald Island. The Eternal Independence only holds nine crew members rather than the standard fifteen that other companies tend to use. We always bring home the rarest and largest of fish. We catch the best, we preserve the best, we slice the best, we serve the best, and we always sell for the best prices. People come from around the world to buy our fish. It is always flattering to hear people’s stories of how long and arduous their journeys were.
Captain Price, the captain of Eternal Independence, found me fishing one day and asked me to join his crew after seeing my efficiency with a fishing rod. Happily, I joined and I have been a fisherman ever since. Work generally is a twelve to thirteen hour job. We only stay on the seas for ten hours and came back to shore to prepare our daily catches and sell them at the market. Every day after returning from the sea I saw the same man sitting under a palm tree. This day was no different he sat under the tall palm for shade and enjoyed the beautiful weather with a few bananas, coconut milk and a pipe of fine tobacco. His tattered and shaggy clothing gave off the assumption that he is a vagabond; a homeless man. There is always a sign hung above his head. These signs are made from cardboard and the message is written in black. Every day the message changed. They were quotes from various philosophers, I suppose. I couldn’t picture a vagabond coming up with such poetic writing himself. Today’s sign read: “Beauty is a short-lived tyranny.” Every sign seemed like mumbo jumbo to me. None of it ever made sense, but that man has been here ever since I arrived. Nevertheless it was just another part of my day. It was as much a routine as the sunrise and the sunset; just like clockwork.
DAY 2
We returned to the pier just as scheduled with enough time to set up shop for market sales. I holding a potato sack of large fish that we caught today. It was a good day for us. I exit the boat to the sight of the same man resting in the same spot wearing his same attire. I put out my cigarette and have a look at today’s sign. The sign’s message changed once again and this time it read: “There are only two people who can tell you the truth about yourself – an enemy who has lost his temper and a friend who loves you dearly.” This quote strikes up my curiosity. What a blunt and extreme ideal with no leg space for alternatives. How on earth does he think he knows so much about people? He writes as if he can generalize people into a certain category. I have never talked to this man yet he projects his quotes each day as if he knows the truth about everything. I grow very upset and want to have a word with him. I turn to Niko, a fellow crew member. He was one of the original fishermen on Captain Price’s vessel. “Niko, can you please take my bag for me?” Niko seemed confused. “Please Niko, I would like to have a word with that man over there. I have some questions for him.”
“Well, alright Shikaru. Hurry back though,” Niko insisted.
I walk, barefoot, in the hot white sand towards this man. He doesn’t make any subtle movements. When I reach him he doesn’t even acknowledge my presence. “Hello, mister,” I began.
This man had a bead that rivaled that of Moses. It was large and grey; wild and mysterious. The atrocity was topped off with an army cap that resembled Fidel Castro’s. The man was preoccupied with peeling his bananas under the shade and finishing his pipe. Working intently on his banana peel the vagabond spoke, “What can I help you with, youngster?”
“You-your sign,” I say nervously trying not to offend. “What exactly are you saying in your sign?”
This caught his attention and drew it away from his fruit. I am pretty sure no one has ever asked him about his signs before. Maybe he didn’t know how to handle the sudden interest. “Ah, my sign you ask? It is a piece of genius, my boy! It is a quote from the influential philosopher, Antisthenes.”
“Antisthenes?”
“Yes. I am trying to explain to people that you must beware of your most hated enemy and your most trusted ally. For if you fear the truth about yourself then you must avoid your enemy or comrade. You cannot speak the exact truth about yourself. It is impossible because no one is brutally honest with themselves. Why should they be? We all love to look and feel more superior and special than the person we are standing next to. We live our lives building our ‘statuses’ for nothing but to be spoken about in a positive manner. Hog-wash, I say! We cannot trust ourselves for the true analysis of our human design. Speaking of human design, we are made to have defense mechanisms that disable the truth from ever being a revelation. Ah, my boy, now that is something to think about. We don’t want to believe we are pathetic, lonely, washed up or even evil. The only people who can tell you that would be one of the two I have listed in this sign above my head. No exceptions, sunny, no exceptions.”
He speaks with such proficiency; such confidence and sureness. His straight-forward answer leeches a question for me. “What of my inner-most truths? Tell me, sir. You must know about me being that you are on the outside looking in. Which are you then, sir? Are you the enemy whom has lost his temper, or are you simply the friend who extends his helping hand?”
He chuckles and his eyelids form crescents in the darkness of the shade. The wind speed increases slightly and our hair waves in the flawless wind. “That is left to perspective, lad. I am whatever you label me as. If I am your enemy then let it be so. If I am your dear friend and ally, then let it be so. Regardless of where I reside in your list of acquaintances the truth will always follow as if it were a part of my shadow.”
What an interesting man. “So what is this truth? Explain to me, what the truth is about me and the rest of the people of this island.”
The crescent smile returns for an encore performance. “You are all misguided fools living in a perpetual hell.”
He’s crazy, I thought. He is out of his god-forsaken mind. “What do you mean perpetual hell?”
“Tell me, son, what type of place is Emerald Island?”
“I would go as far as to call this island a paradise. It holds a surplus amount of the requirements of a civilization.”
The vagabond laughs once again at my words as if I were a comedian. “Other than beautiful weather and safety, what makes this place a paradise?”
Niko’s voice projects from the distance with a slight hint of annoyance, “Shikaru! We need to leave! Captain Price is waiting on you! Let’s head out now!”
“Shikaru is it,” the vagabond asks. “Well it seems our little discussion must be put off another day then. Where are my manners? My name is Kenji. Nice to meet you, Shikaru.”
“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Kenji. Until tomorrow, sir.”
“I bid you farewell, Shikaru,” he says as I head back toward Niko. “Just remember things are never what they seem to be,” he screams from a distance.
Niko doesn’t seem very impressed with my curiosity and hands me my bag. “Try not to walk away like that again, Shikaru. We still have a job to do here. Let’s go.”
That night I stare into the starry skies in search of the answer to his question. What makes this place a paradise, he asks. My hammock swings in unison with the ocean breeze and I ruffle my hair in frustration. What could he mean by saying that we live in a perpetual hell?
DAY 3
Today’s sign read yet another quote from yet another philosopher. I must admit, I did like his consistency. It was as dependable as presents under the tree on Christmas morning. The cardboard informer read out: “A tyrant must put on the appearance of uncommon devotion to religion. Subjects are less apprehensive of illegal treatment from a ruler whom they consider god-fearing and pious. On the other hand, they do less easily move against him, believing that he has the gods on his side.” Along with my potato sack of today’s catch I approach my vagabond friend once again. “Hello, Mr. Kenji. Yet another intellectual quote, I see?”
Kenji was trying to poke a hole into a coconut in order to insert his red and white stripped straw through the hole. He held a nail upright against the coconut’s surface which was pinned against the scorching hot sand. In his other hand he held a hammer and began slowly driving the nail into the coconut’s liquid insides. After completing this feat he spreads his legs out, sits upright against the palm, inserts the straw and shouts, “The milk of Gods!” After engorging in his milky blissfulness, he turns his attention to me. “Ah, my boy you have returned! Have you seen today’s piece of advice? It’s from Aristotle. What a great man he was indeed. His teachings were top notch. He truly knew how the human mind operated.”
“I see. You only choice quote from ancient Greek philosophers. But why this one? What significance does it hold with Emerald Island?”
“Well, you know Percy Jennings, correct?”
“Yes, Percy is the mayor of Emerald Island.”
“What was his campaign motto several years ago? Do you remember, Shikaru? There were posters on every palm on the island.”
“Yes, indeed I do remember. He said that he was chosen by God to be mayor of Emerald Island. He said that he received the mandate of heaven from his ancestors. If you ask me it was quite uplifting. I mean, I voted for him because he seemed to be pretty familiar with God and how he functions.”
“That is exactly the point of today’s quote. Listen and listen closely. It explains how you and the rest of the foolish people on this island don’t understand what exactly Mr. Jennings is. A tyrant seems so superior due to his supposed affiliation with supernatural deities and various religious figures. What you do not notice is that he is only human. If I shot the mayor and shot you simultaneously, you would both bleed and you will both die. God makes exceptions for no one. God doesn’t see the mayor as a special human being. In fact God has nothing but sympathy for the fool who loosely launches his name for mass persuasion. Maybe it is just like you said, maybe you voted for him because you felt he was special and that he held a genuine connection and relationship with God. Maybe you voted for him because you wanted something to believe in. You and all the other people of the island feel secure because they leave all the difficult components of modern civilization in the hands of the socialites and corporate busy bodies. You are the reason why there will forever be division amongst the people. There will forever be an upper and lower class of society due to the idealism of complacency. What a deadly factor mediocrity is in the eyes of paradise. Mediocrity is a sick joke but being allowed to be ruled over and governed by a tyrant is an even bigger joke.”
“So, he uses God to promote his ideals. I don’t see much wrong with that, maybe the man is religious.”
“Ah, but the man appears religious on the surface yet curses the Gods beneath the sheets for making his once beautiful wife as enormous and inelegant as an African elephant.”
“Oh that’s quite ridiculous.”
“He is upset that his now ancient spouse can no longer fulfill his sexual ventures and cravings.”
“So now it’s about sex?”
“Those supposed friends quickly turn into enemies, I suppose.”
“What a farfetched vision you have, Mr. Kenji. How could you speak such wretched words of our mayor?”
“Wretched words are meant for wretched people,” he replies nonchalantly.
“Even so, what did Mr. Jennings ever do to deserve this title of a wretched man?” I feel upset that someone could disregard Mr. Jennings and all his accomplishments for our well being.
“Never mind that yet for there are other philosophies you must grasp before understanding why this man and everything he stands for is truly fraud.”
“Fraud? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Kenji!”
“By the way, you never answered my question. What makes this place a paradise?”
“Ah, I was thinking about it last night. What makes this place perfect is the peace, harmony and happiness that we feel every day. It is the fact that we can govern ourselves in a positive manner and coexist amongst ourselves to create a livable and respectable environment.”
Kenji then laughs. “We live in a wonderful time, Shikaru. You have no imagination.”
“What on earth do you mean by imagination? Is that honestly relevant?”
“Peace,” he asked laughingly. He was clearly ignoring my question for relevance and moving onward. “Tell me, Shikaru, can peace be achieved when the leader keeps secrets from the people?”
“Secrets? What secrets?”
“Underneath every beauty lies a dirty imperfection. Every beautiful woman, every beautiful materialistic obsession, every beautiful life mystery all have dirty and unsuspecting flaws. The beautiful woman has dilemmas and insecurities as those of an obese woman. Maybe she keeps a dirty secret pertaining to anorexia. Money, to some, is a beautiful thing but greed and gluttony is money’s Mr. Hyde. Those two seemingly subtle subconscious sins will make villains of us all. As for the beautiful life mystery, a sunset fades in the distance; the epitome of beauty. That piece of beauty is short-lived. The sunset births night’s mystery and violence. What a shame beauty is when its temptations are fed. Every bit of beauty is stripped away once compromised.”
“I still do not understand, Kenji. How does Mr. Jennings deserve the title of tyrant?”
“Hold off on that question for a moment. I have something to ask you, Shikaru.”
“Very well. Proceed.”
“Do you believe in equality?”
“Well, of course I do.”
“Do you believe a place of paradise has equality for all people regardless of their difference?”
“Well, yes I do.”
“Good, good. Take a look around you. You live in a hut as well as all your fishermen buddies.”
“How on earth do you know where I live?”
“What about the bureaucrats? They live in mansions!”
“I like living in a hut, thank you very much,” I say sarcastically.
“The lower income people are just as important as the upper class.”
“How do you suppose that?”
“Plato once said: As the builders say, the larger stones do not lie well with the lesser.”
“Yes but equality is spoken in terms of rights, not income.”
“I don’t know what your vision of equality is but that is certainly not true equality.”
“The people are all happy, Kenji.”
“The people don’t know what happiness is, Shikaru.”
“And you know what happiness is?”
“I do. But before my home can become a utopia, it was taken away from us.”
“Where was your home?”
“None of that matters to me now. What matters is finding a paradise to live on.”
“Why are you so fixated on paradise?”
“Life is split up into two halves. Half of your life span you spend suffering and the other half you live in complete happiness.”
“You truly believe that?” I was trying to understand the psyche of this mysterious man.
“Yes, without a shadow of doubt.”
“Tell me, Kenji, what exactly are the specifics you are looking for?”
“Weather. Love. Ambiance. Equality. Enlightenment.”
“And you truly believe you cannot find that here?”
“Paradise can never be found in the heart of corruption.”
“How melodramatic of you, Kenji.”
“I speak the truth.”
“How so?”
“Do you know about the emerald mines?”
“Yes. What about them?”
Though our conversation was taking several twists and turns, it truly was gifted with intensity.
Just when I was beginning to enjoy this man’s company, Niko arrives resting his left arm on my shoulder.
“Shikaru, we must head out. Captain Price is ready to set up at the marketplace.” Niko says with great haste.
“I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Kenji. Please take care of yourself.” I turn away and head for my comrades. They all gathered by the dock awaiting my return.
In the distance I can hear Kenji scream, “All the gold which is under or upon the earth is not enough to give in exchange for virtue.”
As I reached my fellow crewmen I began to think about what he could actually mean by that. What did he mean about all of the world’s gold not being comparable with virtue?
That night I lay on my hammock, outside of my hut, thinking of our conversation. The night sky held a plethora of stars. Astronomy was always an excellent remedy for my over excitement. Where I am stars symbolize originality; something that stands out from the rest. This symbolization reminded me of Kenji and how much he stands out. Kenji truly is an interesting man. I wonder what lengths our conversation will reach tomorrow. I am still thoroughly convinced Emerald Island is not corrupt, but I am anticipating an interesting answer on his part. Oh Kenji. We will see what tomorrow holds in store for us. I gently rest both of my arms above my stomach and go to sleep.
DAY 4
We had a great day today. The fish were out. We caught plenty of everything. As expected, once again, Kenji was out sitting against the palm tree. Today’s sign was a tad bigger than usual. I happily walked toward Kenji. The gust of wind dried each droplet of sweaty off my face. The cold breeze cooled my burning feet with each stride. Kenji was trying to open yet another coconut; he was thirsty. The wind made its way from the palm leaves above his head to his Moses-like beard. Each piece of his beard flapped carelessly in the evening wind. The sign, rattling back in forth in the breeze, read, “A hero is born among a hundred, a wise man is found among a thousand, but an accomplished one might not be found even among a hundred thousand men.”
Hero, I thought. I don’t believe in heroes. Heroes aren’t anything but figures of hope for children. It’s all a part of childhood.
“Are you serious about heroes, Kenji?”
“As serious as a man can be,” he said wrestling with the coconut and hammer.
“Do you truly believe in them?”
He raised his head.
“Do you not believe in them?”
“Of course not,” I say.
“And why is that exactly?”
“Heroes do not exist.”
“How so?”
“Heroes are childhood memories.”
“That’s silly. Yes, awfully silly.”
“Silly?”
“Yes, awfully silly.”
“Silly is believing in supernatural men with unrealistic powers.”
“What are you--?”
“Silly is having hope in a man in tights,” I interrupt.
“Powers? Tights? I’m afraid I have no idea what you are referring to?”
“You know…like Superman or Spiderman?”
“Who,” Kenji asks.
I can see now that he was being serious. Everyone in the world knows of Spiderman and Superman. Even me, coming from Nigeria, knows of their fictional existence. Who exactly is this man?
“They are comic book characters? Children of the world know of their comic book adventures.”
“A comic book?”
“You don’t know what a comic book is?”
“No, not really.”
“How can you not know what a comic book is?”
“I know what I need to know,” he sternly replied.
“None of that matters. Regardless, heroes don’t exist.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know what heroes I am referring to?”
“Us. Human beings.”
“Us? We cannot be heroes.”
“Why not? Is that absurd to you, Shikaru?”
“Very.”
He laughs rigorously. He has smoker’s cough.
“You’re a piece of work, Shikaru.”
“How could we be heroes?”
“Once again, you are limiting your imagination.”
“Please, enlighten me,” I say sarcastically.
“Characteristics are all the power you need.”
“What characteristics specifically?”
“Virtuous ones. The only ones that need enlightenment are the people.”
“What exactly do they need enlightenment from?”
“They need liberation from Percy Jennings; the devil.”
It was my turn for rigorous laughter.
“That’s right, you think Percy is evil,” I say laughingly.
“I don’t think, I know.”
“What act of treason has he commited?”
“Do you know the emerald mines?”
“Of course I do.”
“Percy mines emeralds from the cave.”
“That sounds harmless to me.”
“He mines them and sells them. Emeralds make valuable jewelry.”
“How does that harm the people?”
“He sells it for drugs!”
“How on earth do you know that?”
“Do the math, Shikaru. Why do we have so many ports and harbors? Why is the mine not open at night? Where do all the giant cargo boats go at night? For god sake we are located west of South America. The drug trade in southern Ecuador is all the rage in the drug world. Anyone who picks up a newspaper can tell you that. It’s the common law of trade. Its trade at in its simplest form: a valuable for a valuable.”
“Do you have proof of this?”
“Go to the emerald cave tonight. See for yourself.”
“Ok I will. I still don’t believe ---”
“That’s not all he has done.”
“What else has he supposedly done?”
“Ah, population control.”
“Population control?”
“He keeps count of the people on this island and kills insignificant individuals if the number grows too much.”
“I couldn’t imagine him doing that. That’s absurd. Why on earth would he do that?”
“Think about it, Shikaru. The less people on his island the more room he has to breath.”
“Breath?”
“The more people that live here, the bigger the chance someone will go snooping around as I have done.”
“That does make sense but I’ve personally met Pecy Jennings. He is a great man with great intentions.”
“Don’t be fooled by people’s appearances. No one can be trusted.”
“Again, how do you know this?”
“Because… they have tried to assassinate me several times…”
The speed of my heart increased tenfold.
“They tried to assassinate you?”
“Yep,” he says nonchalantly.
“How can you be so calm about that?”
Kenji laughs.
“I may be old but they can’t kill me off,” he says laughingly.
“How did they try to kill you?”
“Three men with machetes approached me one day.”
“Unbelievable. How did you---“
“Look. Tomorrow is a very important day.”
“What is tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow it’s going to rain.”
“Rain? Hah, it has never rained here. In the history of the island not one bit of rainfall has been recorded.”
Kenji buries his face in both hands letting his coconut cradled in the hot sand.
“Tomorrow the store is coming, Shikaru. The storm is coming to forgive the people for their ignorance and gift them with a second chance.”
“What are you talking about, Kenji?”
“I’m heading out to the next island tomorrow. You are welcome to come if you’d like.”
“Why would I want to leave this place? I see nothing wrong with this place.”
“Look, if you want to find paradise, your best chance at finding it is sticking with me.”
“Tomorrow is a festival. Why not stay and see what makes this place perfect.”
“I’ll have to pass on that. Listen, go to the cave tonight.”
“Ok, well if you are right, then what?”
“Then you come with me to find a utopia.”
“What if one doesn’t exist?”
“We continue to sail the endless blue in search of one. If it doesn’t exist we will create one.”
“You make everything sound so easy.”
“It isn’t but it never matters how hard something is if it means a lot to you.”
“Good point.”
“Think it over. If you want to come with me then meet me at Puerto Villanueva tomorrow at half past two.”
Niko runs toward us and grabs my arm. “Important day today, Shikaru,” Niko says. “It’s a big day at the market. Our catches will land us a fortune. Stop chit-chatting, Shikaru. Let’s go!” Without pause for my reply Niko pulls me toward the men who were waiting by the boat.
“Shikaru, don’t get caught,” Kenji exclaims.
That night I made my way to the emerald cave. It seems it is exactly as Kenji said. There were nine trucks stationed outside the cave. Shady men were camped outside the cave holding walky-talkies. Mining carts were being guided from the cave to the carts. At this point it was obvious. Kenji was right. Seeing this made me feel so dirty. I was lied to and cheated. Mandate of heaven my ass. I know what I have to do now.
DAY 5
Today is Sunday. We have Sunday’s off always. Today not only was Sunday but it was the day of the Sunshine Festival. The Sunshine Festival took place once every year. Each island of the western archipelago threw a festival on the same day and welcomed hundreds of travelers to their ports. It was a great day for the merchants as trade was highly significant. The streets were filled with running children and boisterous music. The smell of top notch cuisine vacated the air. Not a soul was inside. I peered at the town plaza clock in the center of the island. 3:00pm is what it read. I then remembered that Kenji wanted me to meet him at Puerto Villanueva at three-thirty. I wonder what Kenji meant about the rain. I wonder if it is only a metaphor. Or maybe it is another one of those melodramatic quotes he displays each day.
When I arrived to Puerto Villanueva I was marveled by the sight I saw. Kenji was sitting at the nose of his boat with both legs carelessly dangling. The boat was all white and the sunshine reflected marvelously off of it. The sunlight shimmered in the water ripples. It was a sight for sore eyes, for sure. Kenji was wearing a white wrinkled button down shirt, white Capri pants and white lace less slip-on shoes. He signaled me over.
“What are you wearing, Shikaru?” He chuckled. He definitely finds himself hysterical.
“Huh? This is my tunic.”
“Hah, you can’t wear that on my all white boat. Here, throw this on.” He throws me a plain white t-shirt.
“Why the white, Kenji?”
“Where I was from, white was the color of redemption. Rather than wearing black to wakes and funerals we all wore white. We believed in the celebration of life rather than the lamentation of loss. We believed in many respectable ideals, at least before corruption took over. That place is no longer my home.”
“So that is where your deep seeded hatred for corruption was stemmed from.”
“Yes.”
“So, when do we leave?”
“Hold on. Look at that view,” he said smilingly.
“What about it?”
“Hah, you can see the island center from here. That is why I picked it. All the people, from here, look like little ants.”
“Wait…what do you need a view for?”
“We are going to destroy this place and set ablaze to everything sinful.”
Kenji lifted a joystick looking object from his pants pocket. Chills ran down my spine. This was fear. This was what true fear felt like.
“What are you doing, Kenji?”
“I am ridding this place of hypocrisy.”
“You can’t just go and kill everyone!”
“I’m not. Relax. I am simply destroying the evil of the people and gifting them with a second chance.”
“What?”
“Well, God is gifting them with a second chance actually.”
“What are you saying?”
“See, the creations of building brought a city feeling. The people felt complacent that they were like the mainland people. With Japan to the northwest and Ecuador to the southeast they need to feel like they have something in common.”
“So your blowing up the buildings to get the people to obey you?”
“Hah, no! Inside the main bureaucratic building Mr. Jennings is tied up. I binded him by a rope in a room plagued with loads of C4. Each building is loaded with C4 bricks. Once the explosion goes off all people will begin from zero. Zero sins and zero insecurities. They will be left to correct their own mistakes from there on. It will be up to them to correct their mistakes. I am simply removing the main issue.”
“You’re mad.”
“Not man. Just realistic.”
“Is this what you meant by heroic?”
“Yes. Emerald Island is the seventh island of the western archipelago. That means---”
“No…”
“Yes, I have destroyed the six previous islands also.”
“But---”
“And I will continue to do so until I have found my utopia.”
“Why not just leave the place you are in? Why destroy it?”
“It’s my purpose. I was sent by God to help change the world.”
“Send by God?”
“Oh yes. Him and I are quite good friends.”
I was speechless.
“See Shikaru, without corruption this world is a much better place. I am slowly removing the evils of the world. I am God’s servant in the form of a hobo. How inconspicuous I am.”
I was still speechless.
“Come on, Shikaru. Take a seat and enjoy the show,” he says patting the vacant space adjacent to his thigh.
“No thanks.”
“Aw, why not?”
“Wasn’t it Plato who said, He is a man of courage who does not run away, but remains at his post and fights against the enemy?”
“Yes, I am surprised you know that, Shikaru.”
“Seriously, if you want to make a difference then we should stay.”
“No, no, no. Sometimes you need to leave it in the hands of the people. It is their turn to govern
themselves and create peace.”
“So your saying that we shouldn’t intervene that much?”
“This little gesture will do, Shikaru. So what do you say? Are you comin’?”
“Ok. Fine. God, I can’t believe I am doing this.” I took a seat next to Kenji.”
“Ok then, Shikaru. Untie the rope from the boat.”
I untie the rope and the all white boat drifts away from the island.
“Shall I do the honors, Shikaru?”
“Please do.”
Without further hesitation Kenji clicked the joystick looking bomb trigger. A symphony of explosions followed Kenji’s click. I could see all the people gracefully making their way around the festival one moment and screaming for their lives the next moment. This started getting me worried for my crewmates. I hope they were outside. Captain Price, Niko and the rest of the crew were so good to me. I hope they are ok. In the background of my thought I could hear Kenji screaming, “Boom! Hahaha! Goodbye corruption! Hello equilibrium! Hello destruction! Hello Fear! Hello mass confusion!” Kenji was dancing about like he won the lottery. “Oh so beautiful, it is. Isn’t it, Shikaru?”
I ignored him.
I aimlessly looked at my former home engulfed in flames. Everything I knew in loved in the last six years was gone within a few moments. What was I thinking, I thought. What drove me to decide a partnership with him? Am I mad? I was so lost in my own thought that I didn’t even notice the grey clouds forming above my head. I turned my head to see that Kenji singing something about Mary Poppins. Nonchalantly he pulled out a white umbrella and popped it open.
“This is the beautiful part,” he said. “This is the gorgeous forgiveness and gracefulness of God.”
Hah. I don’t believe in God. That’s a joke; a sick joke. How can he praise and worship something that he doesn’t see? Religious faith is one of life’s greatest mysteries.
“The storm is coming, Shikaru.”
I remembered what he said yesterday about the storm birthing second chances. This was it. I get it now. I get him now. This is the rainfall that will extinguish the flames. It’s the torrential downpour that will gift Emerald Island with a chance at redemption. Though I do not believe in God I do find this rather beautiful. The lightning crackled in the distance. Thunder flashes accompanied the obnoxious crackling.
True beauty lies in life’s simplest form of liberation. So blissful. So Simple. So clean.
The torrential downpour commenced and the rain brought an end to the flames.
“Shikaru! You lived among the corruption for six years, my friend. No longer will you be mistreated. Forgive me for being short with you, but in time you will learn to understand me. One day this job will be all yours to handle. That is if we don’t find utopia first. Stay in the rain, Shikaru. Let God cleanse your soul as he did to me before I was given this job. Jorgen was my master’s name. I was his third apprentice. He taught me about utopia and I saw the light. You too will soon see the light my friend, you too. Embrace each droplet. Let it liberate you.”
Ignoring the religious hogwash of his story I spread my arms and close my eyes. I let the rain hit me. I let myself get soaked. I love the rain, I thought.
Kenji stood behind me, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “And so we sail the ocean blue in search of a utopia. I promise you, we will find forever.”
