Sasha J.M.: The Grasshopper

Svetlana then opened the door to the hotel room with one brisk move and ran out into the hallway. Pascal did not follow her. He did not see Svetlana running, slamming her body, bouncing off the walls of the hallway. But he heard the night’s silence shattered by her moans and piercing groans. The moans of a young soul, hurt for the very first time.

That night Mr. Kaella could not sleep. He tried yet again to explain to himself how it was possible that this was how this ugly world was repaying him for everything that he had done for it.

Having inherited his father’s company, Cosmic Energy Kaella, and having acquired companies for the exploitation and distribution of drinking water, as well as the companies for the production and distribution of food, he provided the great majority of the people on the planet with a decent life.

Unemployment was minimal, the loans comfortable. The water distribution system was extensive and efficient. Food was expensive but readily available. And that was what was most important. Cosmic Energy made all this possible.

In order for such a level of prosperity of the State to be sustainable, people had to fulfill only one condition: they had to spend. This is why at the beginning of his rule he ordered the President of the State to enter into the Constitution, into the first article, the following definition and obligation:

“The social order of the State of Earth is Humane Capitalism. The fundamental value of Humane Capitalism is consumption, because one person’s spending provides work and income for another person. This is why consumption is the constitutional obligation of each and every citizen of the State of Earth.”

It was not by chance that he called his social system Humane Capitalism. In the entire history of mankind only he had the right to do such a thing. Because he was the most humane ruler of all times, there was no doubt about it.

“Who else provided his people with water, food, cooling, transportation, education, healthcare, jobs…” Mr. Kaella thought to himself. “Everything, absolutely everything that a civilized person needs. And without any discrimination, on any grounds. What else can you give a person? What? Thanks to Cosmic Energy and my family, there haven’t been any wars in a century.”

“And what does this Pascal Alexander want? He wants freedom, the right to choose, he says. To buy what he wants or to not buy at all. To spend when he wants or not to spend at all. Is that it?” The fuming Mr. Kaella shook, alone in the enormous bed in the Presidential Suite, with his entire elderly body.

“And what about those people… what about those companies whose products Mr. Aleksandar and his Non-Consumers don’t want to buy, whose services they don’t need? What will happen to those people and their families, Mr. Alexander?! I ask you this! How will they earn money and pay their bills for energy, water… What will they give their children to eat when their companies go bankrupt because of you? What?! You soulless selfish animal!”

“I have to stop doing this,” Mr. Kaella said out loud. “My poor body can’t take it anymore.”

For years he had tortured himself by trying to understand the villains. Good cannot understand evil. This was a simple fact that he must accept. But he can and must fight against evil. And he will fight. Starting tomorrow, until the final victory.

Prince Kaella was obviously wiser than his father, at least on this night.

“Events are taking their course,” he thought. “The right course. Capable and loyal people are in their positions, prepared to act.”

Why should he trouble himself with that anymore? Especially now, when she was finally there, just a few floors beneath him. He could decide tonight, at any moment, to get out of bed and to knock on her door within a few minutes.

Who knows, he might even do that. Because this desire, this passion… he has never felt… anything similar… so powerful. It was as though he had only now awaken from some monotony, from some mist, nothingness, senselessness… in which he had spent his entire life.

Her body, her seething flesh… exactly in the right spots, exactly where it should… simply forces a man to lose his mind… to go mad!

But no. Not only that. There are such female bodies on every step, alright not exactly like that, but similar. But there is no journalist, host, editor that looks like that, while at the same time creating an evening news program with record-breaking ratings.

How much good she actually did for his father, him, the Company and the State. She exposed irregularities that occurred in society, invited to the studio the persons responsible from all sectors of the Company and the Inspectorate and clearly, without any reluctance, before the millions-strong audience, demanded that they stop non-consumption and mercilessly punish the Non-Consumers.

Those responsible would promise that before the cameras and soon after, in some cases already the following day, they would carry out arrests and raids of well-concealed, secret Non-Consumer outlets, full of goods from past seasons. Such successful actions by the Inspectorate were always immortalized by Babe’s camera crew. In the next show she aired with great pleasure the footage showing outlets ablaze and Non-Consumers with their hands handcuffed behind their backs, surrounded by shapely inspectors and their grayish uniforms, humbly entering Inspectorate vehicles, heads hung low.

Prince was pleased with himself. He had decided that from now on he would always give in to his desires, urges and instincts. His rationality would never allow him to simply get up after one of Babe’s shows, to go to his study followed by his wife’s gaze, and to call the director of Capital City TV and announce his official visit to his media company, with the request that Miss Babe describe to him the entire process of creating her show In the Eye of the Storm.

Had he not acted on the cries, the shrieks of his soul, had he not listened to the real him, he would have never learned… he would have never seen, felt how Babe looked at him, how her breath stopped from his nearness, how this fearless journalist become confused, only in his company…

How she bowed her head and trembled.

This is why he organized this interview in the submarine, far away from Capital City. Here, where he and Babe would be alone, where he could knock on her door…

No, he would not disturb her tonight, his instinct clearly told him. He would not allow her to feel uncomfortable when she stepped out before him, half-asleep, in just a plain nightgown, without any makeup. Let her prepare for the interview in peace. Tomorrow she will look…

He would make it another night without her, just one more night. Just one more. And after the interview, when they return to the hotel… then nothing would to stop him. Nothing!

That night Pascal Alexander also did not sleep. After Svetlana left he stayed up for a long time looking down from his window into Consumer Square, where the occasional passerby scurried home, without paying attention to the magnificent fountain, the statues of Mr. Kaella’s grandfather and father, or the stage prepared for Pascal’s speech the following day.

“The stage will be taken down in the morning,” Pascal thought. “I didn’t tell you that, Svetlana. Seneca will not arrest me tomorrow. He told me that I am a free citizen who has not committed any violation. I didn’t want you to worry, to suffer even more, Svetlana, because tomorrow I will go into the square. I will, Svetlana.”

He finally forced himself to sit in the armchair, to take the tablet from the table, place it on his knees and start watching footage of his speeches. He wanted to distil from them what is best… no, not the best, but the parts, the words and ideas that people reacted to the most, with shouts. His thoughts that the people understood.