Sasha J.M. - The Grasshopper

He started every speech with the words:

“Hello, free people!”

He skipped the usual initial shouts and his waves and thanks.

“We will win these presidential elections. For the first time since the founding of the Company, the State will have a president who will be the president of the free people, and not Kaella’s puppet.”

There, that is where the people shouted out in approval. It was clear to them who governed them.

“On the first day I will slate free elections for Parliament. And when we finally get representatives of free people in their offices, we will do away with the first article of the Constitution and all the others that limit our freedom.”

Just a few voices could be heard. What do people know about Parliament? Most of them don’t even know what the Constitution is. He won’t mention that. He mustn’t confuse the people.

“I will immediately carry out an investigation into how the companies for energy, water and food were acquired at the time by one single family. I promise you, here and now, that the Company, which this family is using to enslave us, will be again listed on the stock exchange and its shares will be handed out to all the citizens. Cosmic Energy is cosmic and it cannot be the property of one dynasty. We will all be owners.”

Now there was a surge of shouts. This can be expanded, emphasized. Repeat several times that all the people will be owners.

“When we resolve the issues of satisfying our basic needs for energy, water and food, we will go back to ourselves, nature, evolution — because all life, just like us, was created through evolution. And it represents nothing other than a struggle in the free market. We will inscribe democracy, free market and protection of competition in the first article of our new Constitution.”

Nothing. Silence. It isn’t the people’s fault. Kaella writes the history textbooks, censures the Internet. How would people know what the world looked like a hundred years ago? He mustn’t confuse them with that. They will slowly, gradually learn this, over time.

“How much of your monthly income goes towards energy, water and food? How much do you pay per month to his son Prince, for the loan for you overpriced apartment, your entire working life? Or rent? Why do we work, why do we live? In order to give Kaella everything that we earn? Is that why we live? Will our descendants also live only to fill the pockets of Kaella’s descendants? No! Its enough!”

Catharsis. That’s the real deal. Telling people about their daily lives, about their bills, through which they overpay for basic living costs.

“And what happens to the remainder of your monthly income? You are required to spend it on things that you don’t need. New clothes and shoes are mandatory every season. Every year a new dishwasher, a new car every two years. And if you don’t buy them the Inspectors take you to prison, take away your apartment, expel your children from school… We refuse!”

The crowd roared “We refuse! We refuse! We refuse!”

“We will spend as much as we want and when we want. We will purchase goods and services that we want. From companies that are capable of offering, through fair competition in a free market, a product that we need, one that we like, one that we want. At a price that we are prepared to pay for them, and not the one that Kaella sets.”

Here the people were shouting more against Kaella’s name than… One should not complicate things with products and services.

Pascal got up suddenly, stopped the recording, angrily threw the tablet on the armchair and frantically walked around the room. After a while, when his steps became slower and his hands dropped by his sides, he approached the window. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead on the glass.

Once again Prince Kaella’s instinct was not wrong. Babe actually was in a nightgown, carefully laying outfits for tomorrow on half of the double bed in room 314.

She would wear the first outfit in the morning, when she meets Prince and Mr. Kaella for breakfast, in order to discuss the final details before the interview. For this occasion she chose a beige knee-length skirt and a white nontransparent broad blouse, which she would button up high.

She will tickle him with her modesty. Let Prince only get a hint of things at breakfast, let him imagine, let his desire grow. Wearing that same outfit she would leave the hotel immediately after breakfast, while he watches. Let him think that she would appear before him like that for the show. And in the afternoon, when Prince raises his eyes as he enters the submarine’s salon, having let his old father enter first…

Like two weeks ago when he was on an official visit to the television station. She didn’t realize immediately that he had come because of her. She knew of course that he had come because of her show. He had told the editor-in-chief so himself. But she didn’t know that he had come only because of her. Until the moment when everyone from the editorial board had left the studio and when she said, with her back turned to him:

“And it is only then, Mr. Kaella, after a whole day of constant work, that I go into the studio, that the cameras and lights are turned on…” and showing the familiar set with a broad gesture of her hand, she turned towards him, looked at him and stopped.

In Prince’s look she saw, like only a woman can see, that from that moment on he was only hers. She had always felt that she would achieve a lot in life, that she would go very far, but she had never considered such heights, the throne itself. Babe wasn’t at all interested what it would be like: official or unofficial, public or secret. She simply knew that from that moment on, she, Babe, was queen of the world. The Princess of the planet Earth.

Prince Kaella did not even consider the possibility that Miss Babe might not open the door to him if he decided to knock on it even tonight. And she wouldn’t have. Of course she would not allow for him to see her in plain nightgown. At one time, later, when she is safely anchored as Princess. And considering his great desire, if he were to knock right now, which was certainly possible, then she would…

Babe smiled, creating in her head an entire scenario of what it would be like. Like, she was just ironing out the creases, bent over the bed, when she heard a knock.

“Who is it?” she would ask, with a seemingly surprised and frightened voice, like one would expect of a girl alone in a hotel room, if a stranger were to knock on her door in the middle of the night.

“Prince Kaella,” he would whisper.

“Oh, Mr. Kaella!” she would shout out, in a voice that would lose the tone of fear, but would contain a stronger note of surprise, with a mild, initial note of typical female excitement.

“You’re not sleeping, Miss Babe?”, Prince would ask.

“I was just about to, Mr. Kaella”.

“May I come in?”

“Come in? What do you mean? I’m not dressed. I always sleep in the nude, Mr. Kaella.”

Babe giggled out loud, imagining him panting in the hallway, completely shocked by this statement of hers.

“I understand… well… put something on.”

“Why, Mr. Kaella? Has something happened? Is your dad feeling unwell?”

“Hm, no, no… I just wanted…”

“What? Tell me.”

“Well… I must see you.”

“We’ll see each other in the morning, Mr. Kaella.”

“I know… I know that, but… I can’t wait.”

“What can’t you wait for, Mr. Kaella?”

“I… I… long for you so much.”

“Mr. Kaella! Tomorrow is an important day. Millions of people across the Earth will be watching the interview with you and your father. I have to be focused and I cannot give in to… Go now, please.”