King of All I Survey
Chapter 78: Selling a Brighter Future

Chapter 78: Selling a Brighter Future

"The guards hustled their captive into the back of a van that was parked around the corner of the warehouse. They climbed in the back with him. Then, all three disappeared completely.

We used a LITV transport to bring them all here to the Simulation Room in the Super Secret Planetary Leadership Headquarters Treehouse Fortress. Our men searched him, then left him seated against a wall in what appeared to be a secure prison cell, still handcuffed.

His eyes were wide with fear, his breath quick and shallow. "Joe, do what you can to calm him down without any further damage to his brain. Try to undo whatever you did to stoke his fears. Just do your best..." I asked. "Keep him locked in there for now."

"Acknowledged."

Two more guards lifted the man who had been stabbed and carried him out a side door. He was covered in blood. It has spurted out of his chest when the knife was removed, but now it had stopped.

"Joe, can you save that guy?" I asked indicating the injured man on the screen.

"A scan from the drone shows that his heart was punctured. He has lost a lot of blood. His heart has stopped, but his brain tissue has not yet begun to die off. We have a small window. I’ve ordered him transported here, now. I also have fabrication mechs working on blood plasma and equipment. I can bypass his heart and pump oxygenated synthetic blood through his system to keep him alive. If we can do it quickly enough," Joe replied.

I heard a rustle in the Welcome Hall as fabrication mechs worked. Two guards emerged from an invisible LITV unit with the injured man. I rushed in to see if Joe could save him. One of the three fabrication mechs unfolded jointed mechanical arms and reached directly into the chest wound trailing rubbery tubes. The other ends of the tubes were connected to a newly constructed box. I assumed it was the blood reservoir and pumping unit. Small mechanical arms worked inside the man’s chest for what seemed an eternity but was less than 30 seconds. All arms but one withdrew as ’blood’ began flowing through two of the transparent tubes. After a few seconds more, blood, much darker in color, flowed through the two remaining tubes back into the box. First from one, then the other ten or fifteen seconds later. His skin was ashen grey. He didn’t move, his chest did not rise and fall.

After another thirty seconds, the mech’s arms slid back in through the still open wound. Two had small lengths of what looked like thread and a tiny, curved needle.

"Joe?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Oxygen is reaching the brain and organs," Joe declared, "One lung is torn, the heart is badly ripped. I’m conducting repairs now with sutures and adhesives. It is not possible to get oxygen to all parts of the heart yet. We may have some additional tissue loss. Lung capacity will be reduced until later restorative interventions can be made. For now, I am patching his structural systems to avoid further damage to the extent possible. I will pump oxygenated blood through his system and keep his heart and lungs offline. He is sedated. His brain function appears to be unimpaired except for the sedative. I suggest allowing his system to heal before we replace the heart and lung."

I blinked trying to take all that in.

"Joe," Dad cut in, "None of this is sterile. What about infection?"

"I can easily prevent or eliminate any infection. I’ll add... curative measures, later. You don’t have a word for it."

"He’s going to live?" I asked tenuously.

"Yes," Joe answered.

Dad and I looked at each other. "You did all that with zero advanced notice and no medical equipment or supplies on hand until you built them from scratch? ...and where are you going to get a replacement heart?" Dad asked, incredulously.

"Yes. I will fabricate it to match his tissue and DNA. I can even make some minor improvements over his original heart," Joe replied.

"Joe, I want a medical... what... treatment room added on to the headquarters. Size it for three patients simultaneously. Stock it with whatever you need. Keep three body-size LITV units there that can be sent to retrieve injured people immediately at any time," Dad ordered.

"I have purchased single use licenses for this operation, but if you want global licenses for the use of some of the tech, we’ll need to examine funding options," Joe replied.

"Whatever it costs, we’ll figure it out," I said. "And let’s add a full travelling medical clinic in Guatemala under the Health First banner."

Dad and I resumed our seats in the Status Room as order was restored.

I turned my head to look at him, "Man, our guys are pretty good in a fight," I grinned.

"Yep. I had Joe pull from the best military hand-to-hand techniques and various martial arts disciplines to put together their memory implant training. They’re probably the best in the world," Dad answered without taking his eyes off the screen. Then, as if he was remembering something important, he turned to me. "You should have Joe teach that to you, too, Tim." His look was serious and concerned. "You’ll be a big target if your identity gets out."

"I’ll do it if you do, Dad," I answered, meeting his gaze. He nodded agreement.

"All right, Joe, schedule us both for the full paramilitary training program at the earliest opportunity," Dad ordered.

"Acknowledged."

"Mom, too," I added.

Dad nodded and smiled. From the look in his eye, I thought he must be imagining Mom throat punching Rafael... or maybe doing it himself. I frowned thinking that might be problematic if Rafael were the President of Guatemala.

Back in the warehouse, order was quickly restored. The audience wasn’t particularly phased by a violent outburst from one of their members. At least they thought it was one of them, even though nobody seemed to personally recognize him.

Rafael spoke to them passionately about his choice to start building the country of his birth instead of tearing it down, of leaving behind a lasting legacy instead of a trail of tears and blood. He told them he had made his choice and he felt good about it. Then he offered them the same choice, urging them to join him in leading Guatemala to a new era of peace and prosperity. A place where each of them could raise families and pursue real careers. Earning respect felt much better than earning fear and enmity. It felt good to sleep peacefully instead of waiting for the police or rivals to find them. It was a rousing speech delivered with heartfelt passion.

Then, Rafael turned it over to Maribel. She didn’t raise her voice or speak with the forceful tones Rafael had used. She spoke quietly, soothingly, intimately. She told them that every person has a responsibility to leave the world and their community better than it was. It was how the ancestors had lived, and how they could live again. The cartels were destroyed forever, there would be no easy money for a life of crime. She spoke of forgiveness and acceptance. She talked about cleansing the spirit through good deeds. She painted a glowing picture of a future where Guatemala was a shining example of what could be accomplished when people lived with principle and acted on their higher instincts. When people respect each other and respect the land, great things were possible, she told them.

Then she broke it down into specific projects. She talked about clean running water in every home, an electrical system that didn’t fail whenever the wind blew, proper sanitation in the remotest villages, farms and plantations growing so much that they would be able to export all over the world. She painted a vision of a country safe for tourism where the descendants of the Maya taught the world about their ancestors while showing them the majesty of the old cities. This vision of the future depends on each one of them, she said. It was the people in this room that could make it happen. She told them how much she needed them to commit to helping her make this dream come true, just as Rafael had. She told them she understood that it wouldn’t be easy, but she would help provide the training and resources to help them become respected members of the community. They would have counseling, education, and good jobs. But they needed to commit. The only way she and Rafael had managed to get the government and the police to agree to amnesty and forgiveness was to promise that every one of them would show up to work, and just as importantly show up to therapy sessions to help them make the transition to their new lives. As part of the agreement, the names of anyone who decided that the future she envisioned wasn’t for them, those who skipped work or therapy sessions, would be turned over to the police and a warrant issued for their arrest for their involvement with drug-trafficking.

Maribel’s portion of the speech was just as passionate as Rafael’s but with a softer aspect. She almost broke down in tears as she spoke about the children of Guatemala rising up to become respected examples of the best aspects of humanity, community leaders, builders instead of destroyers. Watching on the monitors, I saw that there were a surprising number of former gang members in the audience who were fighting back tears at her moving words.

Looking over at him, I saw Dad also had a tear rolling down his cheek. He saw me looking at him and wiped it away. "You have the chance to do that for the entire world, Tim," he said gently. I sighed and closed my eyes. My thoughts drifting back to the line of fresh graves along the Chiapas border. Bodies lying in the streets before they were collected and buried.

As the speeches ended, our people stood at registration tables outside the exit of the warehouse, taking down information from everyone, signing them up for projects and assigning them locations for classes based on where they lived. They were assigned to accountability groups of three members each. Each member of the group would be responsible for keeping the other two on track, making sure they showed up and participated. No one would be on their own, without assistance. Everybody had a contact number to call for help any time of the day or night. The number would ring to Joe who could literally carry out millions of individual conversations at once.

A few, a very few, wandered away without registering. Their faces were recorded and matched against our records for their identities.

Both of our unknown attendees who had phones sending videos of the meeting to the embassy or other US locations failed to sign up to be included in the program. I asked Joe to keep them off the list to be sent to the police for now. I told him to make sure each had a drone monitoring them 24/7.

Rafael and Maribel, flanked by guards, circulated among the crowd outside the warehouse. They shook hands, thanked people for their commitments, and reminded them that they personally would be ready to help them stay on track. They told them that if they knew of families or villages that needed assistance to call the ’help line’ with the details and to not be afraid to call whenever they needed a little encouragement or support themselves.

They were there for hours after the speeches ended. It was hot and, as the last of the attendees were registered and left, Rafael and Maribel were exhausted. Finally, they climbed into the back of their car with Luis at the wheel.

I glanced over at Dad. "I guess we should start asking some questions of our prisoners."

Dad and I had toyed with the idea of leaving those in the fake police car for Arroyo’s men to pick up but decided against it. Until we knew exactly who we were dealing with, we decided to keep everything to ourselves. We had the knife-wielder in the Simulation Room here at the treehouse and all the others in Simulation/ Rehab cells on Blue Island.

"Yes, let’s get the interrogations started," Dad replied with a hard look in his eye.

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