The Island of Dreams Page 15

  “Anything else?” asked Connie.

  “It doesn’t seem so,” replied Anne.

  “I’d love to know who devised these tests,” said Carl.

  “I guess they have been adapted and handed down ever since the days of The Founders,” said Connie. “Part of the history of the place. At least we can say when we get to Kamchatka that we have been to the place where it all started. I have noticed these games are normally taught to children growing up under Non-Capitalist Economics. We, on the other hand, have to completely readjust our thinking patterns. Fortunately we are all the sort of people who are willing and able, and The Island authorities know it.”

  “I’m really looking forward to Kamchatka,” said Gary. “Though I know we will all miss this place. It’s just so enchanting in every respect, and to think that so few people from the capitalist world have visited it in all these seventy years.”

  “I think it’s mainly only VIPs and the like,” added Michael. “Government House looks as if it has been frequented by a few top politicians and business people for trade deals and so on for some time. According to yesterday’s Island Times a combined Argentine and Chilean delegation are expected to sign a deal on Tierra del Fuego very soon.”

  “I know. The Island near enough owns it outright now,” said Connie. “I can’t see it being more than a couple of months till the handover.”

  “The power of this place is unbelievable,” remarked Yvonne. “Practically every country in the world is involved with it in some way, and yet The Island hides itself neatly away, carefully concealing itself from public knowledge. The media never speaks of it. In Australia not a word is spoken of it, and, apart from myself, hardly anyone seems to be aware of what is going to happen there.”

  “And how do you know?” asked Connie.

  “Because Aub told me. You know, the guy who gave me the prized invitation to come here.”

  “Who exactly is this Aub?” asked Connie.

  “A landowner with strong connections to the Australian armed forces. His parents made a small fortune buying up and managing ex-servicemens’ clubs in Australia. He then went into politics and rose quickly to the post of Defence Minister, but he voiced his disappointment at how the nation’s political strategy toward defence is progressing. He thinks that all of Australia’s politicians are behind the times and lacking in vision. He sees The Island as a much more viable future for both Australia and the world, run by people like us who have no desire to compete for power, just willing to work hard to reform bad systems. Unfortunately the people around him are totally blinkered.”

  “And to think it all started with just a handful of people,” remarked Jose,

  “Incredible.”

  *

  On Friday morning the costumes arrived.

  “These are Greencoat costumes,” said Lars. “complete with stripes”.

  “The instructions state that we are to change into them and await the twelve-seater Kammie to take us to the station,” Anne stated.

  “Nothing more about the assignment?” asked Graca.

  “It says that we have to go to Sabfelt, which it points out is an anagram of Belfast, and maintain order there as if we were acting as Greencoats. The police, you could say. That’s it.”

  Joanie watched the set as they boarded the train.

  “Well, at least the weather is set fair,” she remarked to The Chancellor. “Not like the washout we had last year. Let’s get Sabfelt on the screen.”

  Sabfelt station was a short walk from the Gun Inn, to which the set was drawn by music, in this case a piano version of ‘Orange Coloured Sky’. An artificial population, played by the sixth formers of The Karaginsky School, went about their daily business in the hamlet that was traditionally home to The Island’s engineers, except for these two weeks when they were on holiday and it was transformed into theatre.

  As soon as the set entered the hamlet they were struck by one single unmistakeable fact, namely that everyone was wearing orange. They gazed awhile at the scene before it was suddenly interrupted by the dragging of a girl dressed in green from the saloon to a makeshift jailhouse. Then, they entered the inn. Surely there were some questions to be answered there.

  Inside, the set recognised a few familiar faces, most noticeably that of The Reverend. He, like the others, was dressed entirely in orange, with an orange shirt, jacket, tie and trousers. He did, however, preserve his priest-like image.

  “First one’s on the house,” shouted the barman, as he poured each one of them a glass of orange juice.

  “Don’t we get a choice of drink?” asked Connie.

  “Sure, as long as it’s orange,” the barman laughed.

  The crowd laughed. Then The Reverend turned to the set.

  “I think you should change those uniforms,” he ordered. “They don’t go down too well in these parts.”

  “Yeah, come on, get those uniforms off,” yelled another.

  “We can’t. We’re Greencoats,” replied Michael.

  “I don’t care. Here we have Orangecoats,” The Reverend ordered. “Here you do as I say. You become one of us or else.”

  “Suppose we do as you say. What would happen?” asked Jose.

  “Then you’ll be part of our good honest police force, serving the majority for the majority.”

  “And if we refuse?” said Connie.

  “You can’t refuse,” said The Reverend. “You just can’t.”

  “The woman who was dragged to the jail. Did she refuse?” questioned Claudia.

  “What do you think?” laughed The Reverend. “Now you just surrender to us and you’ll be just fine. We’ll look after you. We’re a civilised and democratic society. We don’t believe in the gun and the bomb.”

  “So why is he wearing a gun?” Connie asked, noticing that one of them was wearing one.

  “Because the greens insist on carrying guns,” The Reverend explained. “And, as they won’t accept democracy, we have to defend ourselves.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” added the man with the gun. “Full of hate those greens. And if you insist on staying green we will have to turn our guns against you.”

  The set conferred, then Anne, on behalf of all of them, asked if they might speak to the woman in the jail so that they might hear her version of events in Sabfelt.

  “Of course,” replied The Reverend. “She’s your prisoner. You’re the police.”

  “They are wicked people,” explained the girl, whom Connie recognised from her chess game.

  “What is your crime?” asked Connie, through the bars of the cell in which she had been placed.

  “Not changing my clothes,” she said. “We won’t surrender to them nor they to us, so there is but one option open to us. You, unfortunately, are in a no-win position. As it stands it is your duty to police a minority in the majority’s state. But things are repeatedly rigged against us. That is our grievance, and it is your job to decide whether you want to betray your own colour and join those heavy-handed rulers, or stay with us and take up arms, or find some third solution, if you can that is.”

  The set conferred.

  “Suppose we keep our colour but don’t take up arms?” asked Anne.

  “Then we will deem you to be serving the orange regime,” replied the girl.

  “I think our visitors should be placed in protective custody, don’t you?” said The Reverend to one of his sidekicks.

  The orange guards were duly ushered in and encircled the set before presently herding them into an adjacent cell.

  “Let me know when you’re willing to change that uniform of yours,” laughed The Reverend.

  “Don’t listen to them,” urged the girl. “Once a green always a green. Keep to your principles. Be Greencoats, not turncoats.”

  “Go on. Work for us and be free,” The Reverend tried to persuade them. “Lots of fringe benefits you know, once you’re confirmed into the orange force.”

  The set conferred again.

  “We
’ve decided,” said Anne. “We’re staying as Greencoats.”

  “So be it,” said The Reverend, leading his men outside.

  This decision left the set imprisoned alongside the girl.

  “So you have decided to remain one of the imprisoned minority,” she said. “Even though you have a system that is biased against you in so many different ways. But don’t worry. Together we can change the system.”

  A few moments later a tinkling noise came from the small opening in the makeshift cell wall. As Lars peered out he saw a hooded man dressed in green throw a set of keys into the cell. Free to unlock themselves the set first freed themselves and then the girl. Outside the man in green stood before them and removed his hood revealing himself as none other than The Concierge. Then he mounted an old grey mare, his gun clearly visible around his waist. Behind him six further hooded men stood, each dressed in green and each holding a rifle aloft ready to fire into the air over a makeshift coffin draped in a green cloth mounted on a cart.

  “To the martyr,” shouted The Concierge, as they each fired two shots upward. “Now to avenge the martyr’s death.”

  The six men then hauled the cart away before returning a few minutes later with another cart, which this time was loaded with imitation rifles, grenades and other armaments including handguns and explosive devices.

  “Now we must fight,” said the girl. “We must fight the orange regime for it is the source of our misfortune The politicians who attempted to solve a political divide by drawing a line on a map are now long gone, but still the divide remains. Negotiations have failed for the orange regime justifies itself forever through the excuse of majority rule. They call it democracy. We call it tyranny. Go on. Get your guns. Throw those stripes away and join us in the struggle to expel the conquistadors.”

  The set conferred again.

  “The orange side also has guns. We know that already,” whispered Claudia.

  “And we know that they are as determined to defend their principles as the greens are theirs,” Jose added.

  “I think we should call both sides together,” suggested Terry.

  “Negotiations?” said Yvonne.

  “Yes,” said Terry.

  “Now what are you going to do?” The Concierge asked.

  “Call both sides together to negotiate,” replied Anne on behalf of the set.

  “There is another problem with the orange regime,” explained the girl. “And that is that they always need a few of our colour to defend their interests against our people. As long as a few of us are coaxed into joining their force they can never say that we are not represented in their orange force. I dare say that if you decide to negotiate they may allow you to keep your green uniforms provided that you agree to serve them. I warn you to tread carefully down the well-worn path of negotiations.”

  “But if we don’t negotiate what do we do?” questioned Lars.

  “My boyfriend was innocent,” continued the girl. “But the orange regime took his life simply because one of our people took one of theirs, and so it goes on. My boyfriend, however, was special because he had one thing that the opposition desperately wanted, but knew that they could never have. This, of course, made him a target.”

  “What did he have?” asked Connie.

  “The Golden Harp,” said the girl. “It’s our heart and soul. It’s something that’s kind and gentle and carefree, but sadly at odds with the orange ideal of the glorification and celebration of ancient conquest. Wars are not won they are merely ended by one side or the other. Throughout our lives we have sought to keep the Golden Harp and throughout theirs they have tried to take it away. They may march and beat their drums, all to intimidate and preserve their pride at the expense of ours, but our Golden Harp is immortal, because it is spiritual not temporal. I advise that in the course of your negotiations you resist the temptation to sign up to their demands. Now I must go. They must not see me.”

  The orange delegation, led by The Reverend, duly arrived as all of the greens retreated, except for The Concierge.

  “So you have decided to talk,” said The Reverend. “Surely though you must know that there will be a price to pay for any kind of agreement?”

  “I know. The green lady told us,” said Anne.

  “So, do you accept?”

  The set huddled again to confer.

  “If it is to avert war, how can we avoid having to pay at least some price?” whispered Michael.

  “I don’t see that we can,” said Gary.

  “But we also have the right to demand something from them in return,” suggested Lars.

  “Such as?” asked Connie.

  “An agreement to disarm maybe,” Lars suggested.

  The set nodded and Anne spoke.

  “We accept provided that you agree to start decommissioning your weapons.”

  “Good. Then you can start policing the streets of Sabfelt with our consent as of now,” said The Reverend. “But remember this. We will only decommission beyond a token gesture so long as we see evidence that the greens are doing likewise.”

  “Well as long as nobody spies on us then perhaps we might,” added The Concierge. “I tell you what. We’ll offer you a cease-fire. That will allow time for you and your good officers to agree to end your attempts to rob us of our pride by marching only on your own turf and not on ours.”

  The Concierge left with the Greencoats now having no alternative but to join forces with the orange guards, who outnumbered them by a factor of five. They would now receive their orders from The Reverend.

  “Here, take these,” urged The Reverend, offering them a set of handguns.

  “No thanks,” said Connie. “We agreed to be an unarmed police force in our own colours.”

  “Okay, but you’ll find it hard without a gun,” The Reverend warned.

  The Greencoats patrolled their allotted territory, which consisted of a collection of stables and cowsheds with a dunny behind. After about two minutes two unarmed hooded greens approached them and removed their hoods.

  “Hey, brothers,” said one young gent. “I see you are trying to police Sabfelt. You stood up to The Reverend. That is to be applauded. We also know we could not achieve peace by ourselves. So, though we are but two in number we are willing to become your allies.”

  It was not long, however, before three orange representatives were also on the scene.

  “And what do you think you are doing?” one of them asked. “This is a very serious breach of confidentiality.”

  The two greens replaced their hoods and fled.

  “Now what are you going to do?” laughed the second orange gent.

  Moments later the two hooded greens returned, this time wearing guns.

  “If I were you I would get yourselves armed,” suggested the third orange officer.

  “And if I were you I would discard those Greencoat stripes and then get armed,” advised the second green. “You may not need to use the guns mind.”

  The set conferred.

  “By the sounds of this we have no option but to accept the offer of guns either way,” Claudia whispered.

  “We could always call for another negotiation,” suggested Gary.

  “But what would we ask for?” said Graca. “Another ceasefire?”

  “Neither side is going to back down,” said Michael softly. “It’s obvious. We are going to have to accept the arms.”

  “But with which side?” questioned Connie.

  “I think orange, because the greens are just outlaws when all said and done,” whispered Jose.

  “But I think we should just suggest it first,” Elena suggested. “Give them a chance to change their minds.”

  “Are we all agreed?” said Anne.

  They nodded. Anne then turned to face The Reverend.

  “We have decided,” she said. “We will arm ourselves with orange, but we take the arms with reluctance.”

  With this outcome the greens retreated as reluctantly the set took the guns t
hat orange offered them and strapped them to their waists.

  “Now we have a result,” said The Reverend. “Joanie now knows that there is at least one set of circumstances in which you as a set would be willing to take up arms. Now we must examine the consequences.”

  The Reverend led the set to the undertakers opposite The Gun Inn from which a coffin was wheeled out mounted upon a gun carriage. This time, however, there was no flag. Then, all of the characters disappeared. For a moment there was silence. Then, without warning, there was a loud bang, which startled the setmates, giving all the appearance that the mounted coffin had exploded. Smoke surrounded it. Then it cleared and the lid creaked open. A few seconds later The Concierge rose up from within and spoke to them.

  “Both sides suffer as a result of this so-called democracy,” he asserted. “For a majority that imposes itself upon a minority for whatever reason will invariably incur that minority’s wrath and so induce conditions of strife. Equally, those who live by the bomb and the bullet can one day expect to die from them. Thankfully my home nation of Ireland is now at peace, but the problem is still not fully resolved. This is now the end of your assignment, but I will address you all at The Opera House when all of the other sets have had a chance to play the game. There I will tell you a little bit more about how world peace can be created and sustained, even though every individual and set has some definite point at which they will take up arms. Your train now awaits.”

  *

  Twelve days later The Prime Minister assembled all of the sets inside The Opera House in Aldebaran where Kathleen’s Golden Harp, which The Island used as its symbol of peace and harmony, stood elevated in the centre of the stage. The girl from the jailhouse gently played as the setmates entered. A few minutes after they were all assembled she stopped playing, allowing The Concierge to take his place at the lectern below. His short address then followed.

  “A big round of applause for Katarina,” he said, beckoning her down from her instrument. “As top musician at Karaginsky she has the honour of playing this wonderful instrument that once belonged to Kathleen, The Island Queen that never was. It’s of fourteen-carat gold you know, so it’s not surprising we want to guard it well, but it is played, and a more beautiful sound you will never hear. It’s as beautiful as the girl that plays it. Thank you very much Katarina.”