Diana Kurniawan

His silver hair was long and tied in a half-ponytail with his greying moustache and beard merged at the side of his face. He stroked his long white beard as if combing it with his fingers. I sat near his feet in sobs from the trauma infused inside the cells in my body, exploding throughout the day.

 

"Sifu, please help me," I said, touching his shin with my right hand and my chest with my left.

 

"Yes, my daughter," he said, as he touched my shoulder. "Tell me how I can help you."

 

His deep voice grounded me, as his touch gave me a presence of peace consoling my soul.

 

"I am hopeless," I told him, in sobs from heartaches and the overwhelming fears.

 

"Work. Make something out of nothing, and transform it into an achievement," Sifu said, stroking his beard, and this time, he placed his palms up on his knees. He inhaled a breath and exhaled as his eyes closed.

 

"I am a writer. I don't think I will ever make it," I told him. Inside of me was a glass ball of fragility filled with all of the magic I once possessed, as I felt it suspended in mid-air inside my chest, afraid to show my brilliance to the world.

 

"Ringworm? Frost-bite on your finger?" Sifu asked.

 

"No...," I cried to him, with my mind still in a vortex of impossibilities, negating all of my optimism into oblivion.

 

"Is your stomach okay?" Sifu asked.

 

"Yes, but I don't think I am good enough," I told him.

 

"It is a matter of skill, my daughter," Sifu said. "Become good enough to turn their subjective opinions into objective of excellence on your behalf."

 

"I am old, Sifu," I told him, as my skin felt ragged on my body, and free-radicals exploded inside of me. I would be dead by the time I knew how to marvel them, in my coffin by the time anyone would publish me, and in heaven by the time anyone would buy my novels.

 

"Writing never ages, but age could write a billion stories. It is a gift, my daughter," Sifu said. He opened his eyes, and searched inside his grey robe with a black sash tying it into place. He took out a small dagger, in the shape of the new moon with a silver blade.

 

"Do you see how small this object is?" asked Sifu.

 

"Please don't hurt me," I begged him. "I cannot handle anymore stabs to my back."

 

Sifu took the dagger and held it in his right hand, and with his left hand, he caressed my silky black hair. "This object is small, but brought anyone great fear or threat. I want you to sharpen your mind, as fierce as this dagger. Dig deep into literature."

 

Sifu took the dagger, and handed it to me. "Your mind and heart are as sharp as this dagger, and these qualities are all inside of you."

 

My burden felt light over my back, and suddenly I felt as a feather on a pen, ready to scribe another story into a million empty pages.  "Sifu, I will keep writing. Even as the enemies calls out my demise and dug my grave."

 

"Remember, only a fool hopes without action," Sifu said.

 

"Yes, Sifu. I will," I stood up from the ground, and kow-tow to him in my white robe and yellow belt.

 

"Bring something to eat for me next time," he said, closing his eyes and chanted to his own psalms of prayers.

 

Just write.

Ske kept walking.

 

Much to her dismay, her life was a proverbial cadence, with interruptions of heartaches and loneliness. The block ahead of her was planted with bushes of grenades and bullets, held for vengeance from jealous schoolmates and her past lovers. There was not a care in her walk, strolling as if the evening sun has not set. It was nearly dark and she was alone.  The pebbles underneath her sneakers clinked as she walked, yet she was great at ignoring the chronic disturbance.

 

She kept walking.

 

A man asked for her name, "Tamar," she said. But, her brother Absalom has gone great about his life, leaving an unwritten destiny in the hands of prophets who claimed to scribe on her behalf. Her beleaguered life left traces of post-traumatic-stress-disorder and depression, much to the benefit of those who wished for her death. The prayers she uttered whilst in motion flew to the heavens, only for God to hear, yet no one obeyed.

 

She kept walking.

 

The times she felt discouraged were masked with a smile left unnoticed because the wilderness in her heart matched not her demeanor. What would one call her if she was a friend? A poignant fiction? or a working progress? The evening birds sang to her as their melodies tuned in D Major, but she listened to the soft still voice inside their bellies, that sung more than melancholy. 

 

She kept walking.

 

Time left her behind, as the human race fast forwarded to an unexpected pandemic. Her only friend was her inherited art, entertaining her mind, often by herself. Vivaldi's Four Seasons serenaded her throughout her life, and left the busy walkers with a scent of grace. Perhaps this life was meant to stall, a book forever in writing, and a heart forever longing.

 

She kept on walking.

 

Just write.

My thoughts went back to our online classes and how I must have missed a whole day of lessons, and so did Rambo. My Father left with Karina to Banner, and I felt bad for including my own Father into my revolution.

 

"Who cares?!" I yelled to myself. "This revolution has to start with me!" 

 

My fingers searched for my wrench inside my toolbox under my bed, as Rambo searched for my solar bag inside the hallway closet. 

 

"What does it look like?" Rambo asked, scavanging amongst shoes and jackets.

 

"Large, rectangular, black with silver heat resistant stripes inside of it," I replied. 

 

"I think I found it. It's this one," said Rambo, holding up a medium sized 30x30 inch bag with black vinyl and polyester lines.

 

"Yeah, fold it, and we're off," I told him, as I found my three inches convertible wrench that folds into three parts. "When we get to Colfax, just climb off each light and we take every single one."

 

Rambo and I got out the front door, and went through the door like normal people, and walked down Colfax, all the way towards Colorado.  Capitol Hill was silent, even with people walking and the old courthouse has been abandoned since The New Order came into office. The only offices that were busy were the transportation building with the old sign that said "The Denver Post," where there were once journalists working for the people. Nothing like that existed since The New Order, because Giuseppe Baptiste was the news, and the media team worked inside the transportation building. They were our next target.

 

"First light," I said.

 

Rambo climbed onto the top of the old postman street light, and with my wrench, we unscrewed the cap that was put on to install the solar cells inside the lights since The New Order came to power. We took off the cap, and took out the solar cell from inside the light bulb. We did it in thirty seconds flat, and no one cared. Everyone walked slowed since The New Order came to power, because there were less power in politics, and less powers in economics, and less powers in the people. Everything moved at an automatic pace, with everyone in their Tiers, walking or riding their Rexies, and socializing within their Tier Groups. No one bothered to question anyone. Everyone accepted The New Order, Regime because Giuseppe Baptiste was a priest, and his morse codes hypnotized the masses. "Fools," I thought.

 

Rambo placed each solar cell inside the bag, and we scoured all of Colfax for Solar Cells and kept them inside the solar bag. 

 

A man in his suit called me out in the middle of our rebelion. "Why the solar lights? Why not my brain? Why not my wrist watch?" he asked. His navy suit looked dapper with his dark hair and clean appearance. "I'm a psychologist, what makes you think it would profit the world to walk in the dark at night? To instill fear on the meek? Why not truly commit fraud to the human race and steal someone's identity to ruin the planet and a life, one at a time? Or has that been done all along?"

 

I looked into his eyes, and saw a vision of a loving memory of a man who once had a resolution to the world's problems, yet he grew tired because of the oppression above him, perhaps keeping him at Tier 2 or 3. I saw a fatigued shopoholic.

 

"The New Order is stolen identity," I told him. Rambo shushed me, in fear of being found and reported to The New Order Regime men.

 

"I could easily tell them now, but as a luminary, I challenge the system, and would love to see the fruits of your labor," he said. 

 

"Ignore him, let's go," said Rambo.

 

"It's to save a life," I said. The man kept walking, and within minutes he turned around, and said to me and Rambo, "There is no equality with The New Order."

 

We ran to the next light, and unscrewed the caps of the postman lights and stole the solar cells, all the way to Colorado. It took us nearly three hours, and we managed to turn into the neighborhoods lights before dusk. It was worth missing our online classes. Death to The New Order!

 

Just write.

 

 

I heard sobs during the night, and walked to the door of my bedroom where Karina slept. I knocked and opened the door slightly. She got up, and hugged me, "I don't know what to do," she said. 

 

My walls broke down, and I didn't know what to do other than what Dana told us the night before. This little orphaned girl had nowhere to go, and all of my life, for the first time, I felt like a big brother. I sobbed with her, caressing her beautiful silky black hair, and told her, "One step at a time."

 

I knelt to the ground, and told her, "Someday, you will find happiness. Until then, keep working at helping yourself. This is a good start, and I won't leave you." She dropped to the ground on her knees, and we just hugged each other. Women's rights was a human's right, and as a matter of fact, no matter what age a female human being is, her human rights comes first. We as human being deserved our rights to safety and sexual health and well-being. All assaults were inhumane, no matter the reason for it, because it was pure evil and purely unjust, and no female should have to live to be hurt this way.

 

"My mind, it hasn't stopped thinking about what happened. It was just so brutal. I wished I could explain, but I'm not even sure what to say or do anymore," Karina said. Her twelve year old body cocooning my stomach, as I held her around me. 

 

There was nothing in the world that could explain the depth of a scarred soul robbed of its dignity. I understood crimes, and have seen criminals, but the robbing of a human life through the most demeaning act of sexual assaults gave more damage to life than the cause itself. It was probably greed and jealousies for soul privilege and birth rights, or perhaps Karina's opportunity in her future as a Tier 1, but all of those opportunities were robbed out of her brutally, forcefully, violently, to give the criminals their stolen rights. At times, I felt it should be a life for a life, but my Democratic heart felt a justice that goes beyond that. I felt Karina deserved more opportunities and more rights because she was hurt so much, at such a young age. 

 

"We will expose Giuseppe Baptiste and his men. It's the only way out of this. We have to cut them at their necks," I told her.

 

My Father must have heard me, because I heard footsteps from behind me. As I stood in the doorway of my room, I shoved Karina back into the room, and told her, "Go back to sleep. We will talk tomorrow."

 

"Jake, we haven't finalized everything yet. I need you to go to sleep," said my Father.

 

Rambo came from behind him, and asked, "Another meeting I should know about?"

 

"What happened?" asked my Father.

 

"Karina was crying," I told my Father and Rambo. "She just needed a friend."

 

 

"We have to give her some medications," said Rambo.

 

"I'm going to take her to the hospital tomorrow," my Father said. "Keep the plan, and don't forget to collect the solar cells inside the solar bags. We need each one of them all over town."

 

"You got it, Mr. O'Connor," said Rambo.

 

Just write.

I felt tormented this morning, but at the end, a miracle saved me.

 

There was a large serrated blade that was stuck inside my back between my spine and it has been there for over twenty years. It felt heavy on my soul, as as if it was stuck deeper by those who hurt me in the past. I understood how those who hurt me were well off, having martinis in their yatch, but I've never thought they still wanted to destroy me.

 

For a long time, there were random emails, phone calls, and random people who ostracized. It felt like the Twilight Zone and it felt unreal, as if I was living another fictitious life, but they were there and I couldn't escape their taunts. This morning, I

had to escape hate from those memories that was triggered by random profanity. It reminded me of the haters that traumatized me because it led to violence that were physical assaults. 

 

But, there was this honey bear stuffed animal at a random isle inside a store, and it reminded me of someone dear. His rugged face came to my phone as I saved his photographs and it felt grounding. He didn't smile in the picture, instead a sort of solemn faced in a black t-shirt. I felt stronger and whole. It took a second, not even that...an instant of grounding peace. I told him inside my thoughts that he was mine, and no one else could claim him. In reality, he was far and away, further than just geography.

 

The moment I took to look at him was worth my time. It gave me peace, and I was in love. He may not be reality, but it was my reality.

 

Just write.

My Father's wrist phone beeped as the hologram appeared in front of him. "Ready to talk?" said Dana.

 

"Jake, Rambo, let's go to sit on the floor in front of the sofa. Turn off the lights, and shut the curtains," said my Father.

 

We closed the window curtains, and took off the solar lightbulbs and turned off the solar cell. We sat crosslegged on the floor in front of our television and sofa. 

 

"What's going on?" Rambo asked. 

 

"Dana thinks he knows about the symbol Karina saw on the man's arms," said my Father.

 

"The Machete and Fire sign?" I asked. 

 

"Yes. It's definitely one of the Baptiste men," said Dana.

 

In the dark, Dana proceeded to unveil the secrets of the The New Order Regime.

 

"I was in the infantry in the Southeast Asian division. The Laotian also had their royals, and they were all annihilated. The reason is because of the resources they had in the islands. Those Pacific Islands had multi-billion dollars companies with the self-preserving island that refuels itself. It can import and export all types of goods. I found out that the Tier 1 goods were only to make Tier 1 goods, and Tier 2 so on. The prices are capped and increased per year, and the taxes are high for Tier 1, to keep maintaining the money reserve for The New Order Regime. Tier 1 is taxed at the financial income of $300,000 and up and the tax is at least at 50% per household, but..Tier 2, has to make at least $150,000 and they tax at 45% per household, to make them stay at that level. It's really difficult to jump from one Tier to another. Tier 3 is the lowest and they tax at 35% per household, and to make sure no one can move up a tier, unless they have a heritage of Tier 1 or they marry into it. But, we all know that all romantic relationships has to benefit The New Order Regime, and they screen us with our security numbers, so Tier 2 and 3 will most likely marry only to those Tiers, because it's difficult for them to meet Tier 1 and have a relationship since it won't benefit The New Order to gain another Tier 1. It will benefit the Regime if a Tier 1 gives a progeny, but that progeny also has to marry Tier 1, and most likely, they had tied to The Regime," said Dana. "But, here it the catch, if a Royal has a progeny, they have to automatically marry Tier 1 to give the birthright to that Tier."

 

"Or they can be really smart and be a surgeon, and join the Socialist Hospital, and work their way to get more than $300,000 per year," I said. My Father smiled and roughened my scalp with his fingers. Rambo laughed, and said, "So....How would they get the models and the celebrities and famous people in the world?"

 

"They all have to earn more than $300,000 per year and belong to Tier 1, otherwise, they will fall to Tier 2, and 3. Then, they will have to find a way to marry into Tier 1, and it has to benefit The Regime," Dana said. "If Karina was a Ting Dynasty, technically, her birthright gave her Tier 1, but she was almost annihilated, and The Regime don't want her to become royal again, because royals have certain "soul privileges" that The New Order Regime does not endorse."

 

"What do you mean by "Soul Privileges," asked Rambo. "All souls have privileges, right?"

 

"Not according to The New Order Regime. Giuseppe Baptiste is a priest, and he sacrificed himself to gain power, some authoritarial powers over the souls of the world. He blinks morse code, it is almost as if he has some magic attached to him. Royalty and First Families have "Clout" and that "Clout" is something he opposes because The New Order Regime believes in one central authority, Giuseppe, and no one else. Imagine if all these Royalties and First Families are starting to use their clouts to help people, creating businesses, making free foods, donating services? What good would Giuseppe Baptiste be?" said Dana. "He only wants his Regime. And no one else."

 

"Why Giuseppe?" I asked. "It could have been me that was chosen to be the authoritarian."

 

"The question is, who is behind Giuseppe? He didn't get there by himself, is that understood?" Dana said.

 

"Who's the consilieri?" asked my Father.

 

"I don't know him, but I saw that sign on his ring. His consiliery is always behind the scene. I'm not sure who, but I've met Giuseppe, and he's not very bright. He's a morse code expert, I give you that. He can blink 80 times per second, and his eyes still maintains focus on his verse," Dana said.

 

"This is all garbage!" Rambo said. "Garbage, he's a bullshitter!"

 

"Wait, hold on," I asked. "Why Karina?"

 

"She's the last of the Royals with a soul privilege. Anything Karina says, somehow becomes more attractive, loved, and earnest. It is because her lineage is Royalty, but as any Royals, their hearts has to be good. If the heart of a Royal is not good, it destroys their whole lineage. It takes a good woman with a heart of gold to save her dynasty," Dana said. "Karina was just trying to save her family. In this case, her own life. Her babies are now half-breeds, and it's becase Giuseppe Baptiste and his consilieri wants a half-New Order Regime into a royal family, since they've annihilated everyone else. If Karina is as smart as Sean said she is, she would know what to do to convince everyone how to solve the world's problems. She could potentially be a leader. It's too bad she was assaulted and now bore two illegitimate children. She could have easily been a Tier 1."

 

"All this? For just a Tier 1 privilege," said Rambo, with his face blown up and in anger. "I've never heard the shittiest bullshit in all of my life, and I'm an orphan."

 

"But, the money from the taxes, where it does it all go?" asked my Father.

 

"They're funnelled into The New Order Regime Treasury, but we all know that's it's not just Giuseppe Baptiste," said Dana. "We need to find out who his consilieri is. He must be always with him, giving him instructions on what to do."

 

"This is all foolish!" Rambo said. "We've been paying all of our monies, and he's increased our product prices so we can't buy anything else, then we can't meet anyone except out Tier or lower," yelled Rambo. "I want to throw some bricks to a glass window! Revolt!"

 

"Rambo, we have to play it cool. We have to work with their system that they have now. It's permanent, and it's going to be there for a while," my Father said. 

 

"Rambo, we can revolt. I'm with you, but we have to revolt in a smarter way than The New Order," I said.

 

"Media, but how would we dodge them?" Rambo asked. "How can we take over the television with all these blackouts?"

 

"I know just how to do it," Dana said. 

 

Just write.

 

My Father spoke to Dana in the other room, at times in aggreement in yeahs and other times, I heard and I don't know. He came out of his bedroom within fifteen minutes, and back to the dinner table with us.

 

Karina was overwhelmed, as she sat in silence eating her pasta in the dark with us beside her.

 

"I'm sorry for these questions, Karina. You should rest in my room," I told her. Our eyes couldn't look to her face, as she laughed and replied, "I'm a member of a lost dynasty, but tyrants now want to abuse my body and my womb to control the rest of the world."

 

My eyes moistened and my heart was torn apart, because that was exactly what the men did to Karina. Rambo finished his dinner and walked to the sink and washed his dishes. "They've done this since slavery years, and for a moment in time, we were equal in our life, but it took a very long time. Now the devil found another way to abuse his powers, and now everyone is in on it," said Rambo.

 

"Karina, finish your dinner, and I will fix my room for you," I told her. I walked to the hallway and to the room ahead of me, next to my Father's, on the right. The window shades were still open, and my computer was shut down from the blackout. I took off the sheets, and put on a new one, and replaced the pillow covers, then took my blankets and shook it. I folded the blanket and walked back to the dinner table. Karina was still sitting at the dinner table with my Father, as they both drank their waters.

 

Boris and Betina cried, and became fussy again, needing attention.

 

Rambo looked to me, and then to Karina, and said, "Karina, go get some rest. Let's go to Knox tomorrow for your babies."

 

My Father took the crying babies, and brought them to my room. I took Karina with me, and gave her a big hug. "It's okay," I said. "I've never had a sister before, but I think you're one I can love forever." Karina tore apart inside my hug, and sobbed. She sat on my bed, and my Father placed the babies on the bed next to her. "Don't move too much when you're sleeping. We only have one bed," I told her. "My Dad needs his sleep for the hospital work. Rambo and I will sleep outside on the sofa."

 

"Thank you, Jake," said Karina, wiping her tears, as my Father opened the swaddle of the towels, letting the babies breathe. He placed them on the top of the bed, without pillows, and caressed their foreheads. I handed the pillows to Karina for her small body to sleep on.

 

"Good night, Karina," my Father said, as the babies calmed down and Karina was beside them. They wanted their Mommy.

 

I walked with my Father out of the bedroom, and closed the door behind us. We walked to the dining room where Rambo was, and sat down at the dinner table together.

 

"What do you want to do?" my Father asked. "I need Dana's help on this. To cover me."

 

"We need supplies for the babies, and for Karina," Rambo said. "She can't possibly breast feed."

 

"Jake, buy some foods for the newborns at Knox," my Father said. "We have to make sure she's not too sad to care for the babies."

 

"We need to help her," I said. "She's barely a teen."

 

"We have to expose Giuseppe Baptiste and The New Order Regime," said Rambo.

 

"I agree," I said. "They are not allowed to hurt vulnerables, or even Tier 2 or 3. They're not allowed to hurt even the homeless or anyone. They only care about their own regime, and whose lives they own."

 

"The New Order Regime is based on corruption, violence and abuse. We do need to do something," my Father said.

 

"Let's talk to Dana tomorrow," I said.

 

"Let's get some rest tonight. Just relax, and think over somethings, before we plan on the process," my Father said.

 

"Okay. Is it okay with me here, Mr. O'Connor?" Rambo asked.

 

"If the sofa is okay for you and Jake for tonight, then it's okay with me," my Father said.

 

"Rambo, ...I really want to thank you," I said. "If it wasn't for you. She would have died, and so would the babies."

 

"No problem, we're in this together," Rambo said.

 

It was almost 7 pm.

 

Just write.

The patchouli damsel wore a wreath of daisies and roses, with her scent of cucumber mint. Her dress ruffled with privilege and gold as she glanced at me while in blooming sage of contemplation. "Take this green apple, and feast upon it for your years shall age not in numbers but in wisdom," she uttered as her lavender eyes batted with indiscretion.

 

"Who are you?" I asked, expecting friendship as I was in sorrows of the previous past.

 

"You will see, and feast on it. Hurry," she urged.

 

I took the apple, yet waited on the feast as I worked on the blossoming sage, planting cedars, and love. In a few, a cupped hand drowned me and no more stars above or melodies of hymn. The pervasive woman shoved the green apple into in mouth with the hands of malice concomitant of evil by her side. The wrought of pain was normalized by her comparison of my sorrows.  

Awakened, I shed blood proved of no mercy from the deviants. The green apple vomited out of my mouth as I treaded down a path unfamiliar to the journey expected. I understood myself, but gained no wisdom as the green apple promised. 

The damsel distressed in her own mind practiced her soliloquies and verses, but her gross words were the venster of hell.  Upon a journey, however, my joy came up and piqued my thoughts, words, and action proving of strength I never knew I had. 

The green apple and its damsel became a folktale, upon the fields of life, where jealousies became the vice.

 

Just write.

"Karina, are you okay?" asked Rambo. "How are you feeling? You can talk to us about it."

 

"Rambo, you and Jake were the only two people who believed me. If it wasn't for Boris or Betina, and my ragged clothes, you won't have taken me seriously," Karina said. 

 

"I'm happy you hid while you were pregnant," I told her. "I'm happy you survived."

 

"In this country, everyone believe the rich and privileged. Even after knowing I am the last of the Ting Dynasty, it didn't matter to anyone. We weren't Tier 1," Karina said. 

 

"How did The New Order men murder your parents?" Rambo asked. "You never told me."

 

"A schoolmate told The New Order men because she hated me. I didn't want to share my homework," Karina said. 

 

"That was it? Over a silly homework that she hated you for, so she told them to hurt your family?" Rambo asked.

 

Karina nodded. I could tell from her face that her loss was so deep and grave because of the loss of her parents and her own dignity, and now she bore the children of the men who assaulted her.

 

"As human beings, we need to question Giuseppe Baptiste and The New Order Regime. Why he is our leader, and how he got there in the first place and who were the people who got him there. The New Order men destroyed the royals and first families, to gain control. Economic control, human rights control, health and well being of everyone. But, was it worth the killing and the destructions to gain control only to give it to one man whose vernacular is vague and incongruent with humanity, colorful with slander against the royals and respectable families, full of abuse against the poor? But, the world is so blind to support him because he blinks morse codes and seduces us with Biblical knowledge he claims to understand? Why Giuseppe Baptiste and The New Order Regime?" Karina spoke with sincere ingenuity and passionate curiosity. "It was the violence that got them to the top and it will continue to go on if the victims are silenced. Why do people believe The New Order men in the first place? Because they have cars and guns? Money and fame? They never deserved it, because they violated me." 

 

"I can't even ride my bicyle," Rambo said, equally upset as Karina.

 

"It wasn't the people's choice, it was forced upon us, because nations in the world supported him. Leaders of the free world supported him, who helped him rose to power. They spoke the same language and believed in the same ideals, and they didn't give room for authentic justice and humanity," I said. "It was a hostile takeover. It wasn't pretty, Karina. It happened long ago, before you were born. Father told me."

 

"It's true," my Father said, his right hand cupping his chin.

 

"You know a lot for a twelve year old, Karina," Rambo said. "I'm happy you understand who Giuseppe Baptiste is. I never liked him in the first place. He's been in reign for a very long time."

 

"It didn't take long for me to know. As soon as I was assaulted. I knew it was more than just a jealous schoolmate. It was my lineage, my whole being, and their desire to own my life and control me. It was abuse," Karina said. "I was really hurt, and now, no one but you two believed in me. Under Giuseppe Baptiste, I will always be a statistic and I won't be able to gain justice," Karina said.

 

"What do you want to do?" my Father asked. 

 

"I want to expose The New Order men, and Giuseppe Baptiste," Karina said. 

 

"That's what I want too," Rambo said. "I'm emancipated and I doubt that I will ever be Tier 1. It was tied to my journey of life, because I was born when Giuseppe Baptiste decided that everything had to benefit The New Order Regime."

 

"How will we convince the world? How will the rest of the world know the things I've gone through?" Karina asked.

 

"The same way The New Order men control the world. Through media and language, except....," I said, in contemplation about a strange plan. A plan devious, but non-violent, sharp and crafty, understandable and poignant.

 

"Son, I need to call a friend," my Father said. He dialed his wrist phone. "Hologram, give me Dana."

 

The hologram dialed to Dana Zudecki, a retired soldier for The New Order, in the same regiment as those who overthrew The Laotian government and gained a new territory for Giuseppe Baptiste.

 

"Sean! How are you? I'm in Brazil, enjoying Rio deJaneiro. It's beautiful out here," Dana said. The background was on the blue ocean, with him sipping a coconut juice from its shell.

 

"Code Jasmine. Seal 6. It's real," said my Father.

 

"What? Are you serious? We have a lost descendant? How old?" Dana asked, his voice deepened.

 

"Twelve. Prodigy," my Father said.

 

Just write. 

"You know a lot for a little girl," Rambo said to Karina.

 

"My last name is Ting. It's like Ding, except smarter. You should expect nothing less," Karina said, with tears in her eyes.

 

My Father held her hands and told her, "You're valuable. I'm impressed that you stayed alive for over a year after they hurt you."

 

"There is a reason I was made into this world, and perhaps it's to give birth to Boris and Betina, but I felt it was something more," Karina said. "I hope it was not to just bore the child of the enemies."

 

"I believe you, Karina," Rambo said, as he knelt beside her. 

 

The room was dark, but we could still feel each other.

 

I turned around and witnessed a darkened world, with a thriving regime built on fear and darkness. 

 

"Karina, why don't you eat a little bit, and then sleep," my Father said. "I will care for Boris and Betina."

 

"Thank you, Mr. O'Connor," Karina said.

 

I took some of the solar lightbulbs we had in our cabinet and used it's sticky side along it's edge and stuck it on the walls around inside our home. The darkness won't cower my Father and I, we knew something went on since the inception of the regime.

 

"Jake, do you have a Mom?" Karina asked. 

 

"He doesn't want to talk about her," Rambo said. "It gives him a headache."

 

"She's Tier 1, but she doesnt' want to work for it, and only wants to marry through it," said Mr. O'Connor. "Superficial, and dominating, and often she drinks too much."

 

"She is remarried, with another Tier 1," I told Karina. "So she doesn't even remember me."

 

Karina straigthened her chair to face the table, and my Father took some of the pasta that was ready inside the pot, and placed some spaghetti onto a plate. He took some of the marinara sauce, and ladled enough for a twelve year old portion.

 

Karina saw the spaghetti, and her mouth gaped open. "Fresh hot meal. I havent' had this in a very long time," she said.

 

"The usual," my Father said. "Sean. That's my name."

 

"It's easy to make," Rambo said, sitting down at the dinner table. "Not to insult your cooking ability, Mr. O'Connor."

 

"I never had one, and it's Jake's favorite," said my Father, taking some spaghetti from the pot with some marinara sauce for Rambo.

 

I smiled, and sat myself down at the dinner table with everyone. 

 

"It's love, no matter how you cook it," I told Karina.

 

We ate together under the solar lightbulbs, while the rest of the world was still in the dark.

 

Just write.