Sasha J.M. - The Grasshopper

“What can’t you give in to?”

At this point she would be silent and with that silence she would show Prince how much she reprimanded herself for foolishly betraying and revealing her immense feelings for him. Of course he would repeat the question.

“What can’t you give in to? Tell me… please.”

“Mr. Kaella, this really isn’t the time for such conversations. In any case, someone might hear us and tell your dad. We cannot upset him in any way before the interview. I’m sure you agree with this, right?”

“Well… yes,” Prince said gloomily.

“And after the interview, Mr. Kaella…”

“What after the interview? What? Tell me… tell me…”

“I mean, if you want to, at all…”

“If I want to?! If I want to?!”

“Quite. Quiet, Mr. Kaella.”

“What after the interview? Tell me already!”

“Then I will open my door to you and allow you to come in, Mr. Kaella.”

“It’s a pity that he is so shy and intimidated, and he doesn’t dare knock. Boy, what I would do to him.”

That night the new president of Earth, Erivan, did not sleep either. As soon as he went to bed he lay on his side and tried to go to sleep. But it didn’t work, he was too excited.

“Finally…” he thought, raising his large body and leaning back on the arched backboard, “…finally… after twenty-five years of being vice president.”

During that period he had also held the office of President, on several occasions, when Kaella would get angry enough and stopped being surprised that these grown men were taking their function of president seriously, and they would start thinking on their own and making decisions.

Then under order from Kaella, Erivan would eliminate the incumbent President, making use of media campaigns and court cases, and in line with the Constitution he would take his place pending early elections, and after that he would again retreat to the position of vice president. Into the shadows of the loyal guardian of Humane Capitalism.

But this time it wasn’t so. And it would never be again. In the past several years Erivan had been under a lot of stress and it took its toll on his health, because Kaella did not take his warnings seriously. From time to time Kaella would not even read his reports on Pascal Alexander’s activities and would tell him that he was exaggerating. Alexander had succeeded in creating a strong Non-Consumer movement. They had taken power in entire cities and on all the continents. They had taken factories, started their own production of goods.

When he realized Alexander’s strength, Erivan stopped realistically and truthfully reporting to Kaella. It was probably his smartest, one might even say his ingenious decision. He allowed Alexander and the Non-Consumers to produce their own weapons and waited for the right opportunity. He waited for the moment when Kaella would no longer have any choice and when he would have to chose to finally put an end to the Non-Consumers. This sixty-two percent support for Alexander, which Erivan had shown to Kaella only now, on the eve of the elections, had finally sobered up the old and naïve ruler. He accepted the proposal for them to carry out an assassination of Xing, when he goes tomorrow by car to give his election speech, here in Capital City, and to blame the Non-Consumers for it.

And he had done well to have already killed the Xings. Zodiac, the pilot of the stolen Non-Consumer plane, told him that their rockets were not a hundred percent accurate. If the first projectiles were to miss or only graze the presidential car, one of the Xings might run out and escape. Why should he take such a risk if the family was within his reach the entire time?

“Now it’s really enough, Mr. President,” Erivan said to himself out lout, smiling because of the “Mr. President”. “Don’t torture yourself with things that are no longer important. Rest. Starting tomorrow numerous statesman and wartime duties await you as President and Supreme Commander of the Inspectorate.

He got up out of bed and went to the bathroom. He got a box of sleep medication from the cabinet, took one pill, greeted himself in the mirror with a dignified bow, and returned to bed.

“What am I doing?” thought Pascal Alexander, removing his forehead from the window. “I’m watching footage as though I don’t know what I will say tomorrow? After all these years I don’t know what I will tell the people?

“Well I won’t tell them anything more! Let them kill me tomorrow! I want them to kill me. Please, Kaella, don’t steal the elections, kill me… please. If you won’t, let your son kill me. He won’t give me his Megapolis. Your Erivan will kill me… if you won’t, Kaella. Kill me… anyone… please.”

“I didn’t do this because of the people. I did this for myself. It was I that couldn’t stand you. I need freedom. Why did you challenge me? Why did you make me into a leader? Why did you bring me to this damn Megapolis? Why did you make me meet her? Why did your Seneca listen to her and place Megapolis before my feet?

“You are right, Svetlana. About everything you told me tonight. Forgive me, Svetlana, but I’m so in…”

“Do you see it, Manami… do you see it with you brief look? And why do you look at me at all? Why do you torture me, when you cannot be mine?!”

Pascal ran out of the room and took the elevator down to the reception.

“Mr. Alexander, what has happened?” a scared young man and young woman at the desk asked.

“Nothing, nothing… I’m just a little tense… do you have any alcohol?”

“Of course, we’ll get some from the bar. What do you want?”

“Tequila. Get me a tequila. Bring the bottle…”

“Immediately,” said the girl and ran off towards the bar.

“And three glasses,” Pascal shouted after her. “You’ll have some too, please,” Pascal told the young man. “I simply can’t be alone tonight.”

“I’ll go up to my suite to rest,” Mr. Kaella told Prince and Miss Babe, already leaning with both shaky hands on the armrests.

Prince nodded to the two bodyguards who rushed up to Mr. Kaella, held him under his arms, pulled back his chair and helped him up.

“See my father to his suite and stay in front of his door,” Prince ordered them.

“Both of us?” one of the bodyguards asked.

“Yes. I won’t be needing you, and in any case — there’s a lobby full of inspectors.”

“As you wish, Mr. Kaella.”

Prince and Babe remained alone, sitting across from each other at a large oval table set up in the middle of the completely empty hotel dining room. They had barely touched the variety of food served in silver dishes. Prince summoned the waiter without taking his eyes off of Babe.

“Yes, Mr. Kaella?”

“Please, take this away…” Prince made a circular motion above the table, “and bring us… Are you for coffee?… or perhaps some juice, Miss Babe?”

“No, thank you, nothing. I’ve had too much of everything. It’s time for me to go.”

“Go? Already?” Prince looked at the waiter, who was waiting for his order. “Bring us two coffees.”

“Immediately, Mr. Kaella.”

“But, Mr. Kaella…” Babe protested.

“Miss Babe, I really don’t see any reason for you to rush… unless you feel uncomfortable in my company.”

“I’m not uncomfortable in your company,” Babe answered seriously, without any coquetry. “However…”

Babe was silent, while four waiters, under the watchful eye of the maître ‘d, took away the dishes, plates, cups, glasses, silverware and napkins from their table.

“Please, continue,” said Prince, once the waiters had gone.