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Authors: Joe Jarvis
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which point I become a confine until I die."
"Well that's where the rest of the plan comes in. Molly's murder won't be just any murder. It will be a drug cartel murder of an innocent, beautiful young women." Drake hadn’t planned on discussing this in such detail, but he was too excited, and was planning out loud as much to convince himself as Barry.
Drake had been dreaming this plan up for a while, but now added the details from recently emerging circumstances. "Only the 9th murder this year in all of New England, quickly followed by the 10th, 11th, and 12th – the victims strategically chosen to both elicit fear that no one is safe, even the rich, and take out the people who would most stand in our way. We make it brutal, we frame outside cartels, and we scare people into demanding a border. A border which we control."
"And when other agencies protest the border,” Barry said, staring somewhere behind Drake, thinking as he spoke and becoming visibly excited, “BA shows 'evidence' that they are working for the drug cartels, meaning the only ones that can be trusted are ourselves and our partners!"
"Then NESA graciously provides patrols free of charge to anyone within the border,” Drake continued, “cutting out the business of whatever security companies are left. We take enough of whatever is coming into our territory on roads and magnet tubes that we control – a sort of tariff – in order to pay for these free patrols, and once NESA and its affiliates are all that’s left, impose a tax on the population.”
“We trump up charges against other arbiters, or absorb them – pick the right ones to form branches of government with the right positions as bargaining chips," Barry was now smiling with wide eyes, taken away by the possibilities of Drake’s plan for power, like a child planning his first trip to Disney World: "I become the Minister of Arbitration, you the Minister of Security, and from there on out it’s easy street! Just like pre-collapse!"
Drake’s smile was more detectable than usual, "Bingo!" he drawled as he raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his wine.
The better part of a minute passed in silence as the two considered the plan.
"But..." Barry was still thinking, and his smile turned into a sideways frown, skeptical that the plan could fall into place, "It would be such a risk."
"All great men once took a great risk," argued Drake calmly. "But we have this opportunity once, before our businesses decline or come crumbling down. It’s now or never."
"How would we put it all into motion though, without it getting away from us?"
"Just leave that to me, I know who to talk to, I know who I can trust. I’ve already done some probing and testing, so to speak."
Barry wasn’t convinced, and he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I need to be sure. I can’t just throw caution to the wind with nothing but your assurance."
The two fell silent as their food arrived. The juiciest pink-in-the-middle fillet mignon – rarer these days as people were used to much less meat in their diets, and cattle raising never resumed on the same scale after the collapse. On the side were mashed potatoes with garlic and real butter, grilled asparagus, assorted raw leafy greens topped with goat cheese and a raspberry vinaigrette, lamb-broth gravy with mushrooms and onions, lobster tail with a cream sauce topped by caviar, and olive oil painted dinner rolls with herbs that looked like an artist had prepared them for a museum.
"Listen," Drake began as he lowered his voice and cut into his steak, placing a bloody, dripping morsel into his mouth, and chewing, "We can handle the media. We have more to offer with this plan than money, we can now offer power, straight up, unadulterated force, used for whatever they desire. So we set up Ministries, and sell the positions to those with the most power. I happen to have the right connections in the news world so that we can control the very thing which will
"Well that's where the rest of the plan comes in. Molly's murder won't be just any murder. It will be a drug cartel murder of an innocent, beautiful young women." Drake hadn’t planned on discussing this in such detail, but he was too excited, and was planning out loud as much to convince himself as Barry.
Drake had been dreaming this plan up for a while, but now added the details from recently emerging circumstances. "Only the 9th murder this year in all of New England, quickly followed by the 10th, 11th, and 12th – the victims strategically chosen to both elicit fear that no one is safe, even the rich, and take out the people who would most stand in our way. We make it brutal, we frame outside cartels, and we scare people into demanding a border. A border which we control."
"And when other agencies protest the border,” Barry said, staring somewhere behind Drake, thinking as he spoke and becoming visibly excited, “BA shows 'evidence' that they are working for the drug cartels, meaning the only ones that can be trusted are ourselves and our partners!"
"Then NESA graciously provides patrols free of charge to anyone within the border,” Drake continued, “cutting out the business of whatever security companies are left. We take enough of whatever is coming into our territory on roads and magnet tubes that we control – a sort of tariff – in order to pay for these free patrols, and once NESA and its affiliates are all that’s left, impose a tax on the population.”
“We trump up charges against other arbiters, or absorb them – pick the right ones to form branches of government with the right positions as bargaining chips," Barry was now smiling with wide eyes, taken away by the possibilities of Drake’s plan for power, like a child planning his first trip to Disney World: "I become the Minister of Arbitration, you the Minister of Security, and from there on out it’s easy street! Just like pre-collapse!"
Drake’s smile was more detectable than usual, "Bingo!" he drawled as he raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his wine.
The better part of a minute passed in silence as the two considered the plan.
"But..." Barry was still thinking, and his smile turned into a sideways frown, skeptical that the plan could fall into place, "It would be such a risk."
"All great men once took a great risk," argued Drake calmly. "But we have this opportunity once, before our businesses decline or come crumbling down. It’s now or never."
"How would we put it all into motion though, without it getting away from us?"
"Just leave that to me, I know who to talk to, I know who I can trust. I’ve already done some probing and testing, so to speak."
Barry wasn’t convinced, and he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I need to be sure. I can’t just throw caution to the wind with nothing but your assurance."
The two fell silent as their food arrived. The juiciest pink-in-the-middle fillet mignon – rarer these days as people were used to much less meat in their diets, and cattle raising never resumed on the same scale after the collapse. On the side were mashed potatoes with garlic and real butter, grilled asparagus, assorted raw leafy greens topped with goat cheese and a raspberry vinaigrette, lamb-broth gravy with mushrooms and onions, lobster tail with a cream sauce topped by caviar, and olive oil painted dinner rolls with herbs that looked like an artist had prepared them for a museum.
"Listen," Drake began as he lowered his voice and cut into his steak, placing a bloody, dripping morsel into his mouth, and chewing, "We can handle the media. We have more to offer with this plan than money, we can now offer power, straight up, unadulterated force, used for whatever they desire. So we set up Ministries, and sell the positions to those with the most power. I happen to have the right connections in the news world so that we can control the very thing which will
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