AWACS - An American With A Chinese System
Copyright© 2025 by PT Brainum
Chapter 29
“Who the hell are you, and where the hell did you come from?”
I handed over my UN diplomatic passport, “Hi, I’m Koby Roberts, I’d like to see what I can do to help the island while I’m here. Not sure if I want it to be permanent, but I would like to stay for a couple days and check it out.”
His frown faded as he looked at my passport, then he pulled out a stamp and ink pad, stamping my passport. He similarly stamped a piece of paper that gave me a six month visitor visa
“So what do you do?”
“Bit of everything, project planning, fruit picking, smuggling, upgrades to electronic equipment, criminal investigation, rock carving.”
“Well if you can smuggle booze onto the island you’ll be popular.”
“That sounds great, anything you need before the next boat delivers?”
“I could use some new shirts. Something 100% cotton with short sleeves, extra large.”
“Got a favorite color?”
“Just solid colors, but no red, pink or similar shades.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I told him, shaking his hand.
“Find me some shirts and I’ll see about sponsoring you for a plot of land to build a house on.”
“Nice, are you the head honcho here?”
“No, just filling in today. You’ll meet the new mayor soon enough, you’ll meet everybody soon enough,” he said with a wry chuckle.
I thanked him, and headed up the hill to the house with the room I rented. I summoned my phone to see if there was a reply from Pete, he wrote: stay safe, let me know if you need anything
I wrote back: Need you to fill one of my empty chests with big bottles of booze from Costco, and grab any short sleeve button up shirts for men they have in extra large, solid colors, no shades of red, up to five. Use one of my cash cards.
I returned the phone to its resting spot in San Diego, and kept trudging up the hill. There was going to be a lot of trudging if I stayed here long.
I put my groceries away, not seeing the other house guest. They hadn’t gotten any groceries, so maybe they were eating elsewhere. I summoned my phone back and saw I had an email from Amazon, my order had shipped.
I smiled, and tried to summon the box. It didn’t come, must be affixed somehow. I summoned my order right out of the box, happy with myself for my solution. I had around six pounds of roasted salted cashews, and a big bag of Anthony’s organic cocoa powder. I’d have to get Internet to order more stuff, but the experiment had worked.
I realized then I hadn’t seen any milk at the general store. I wondered if there wasn’t a producer here. I texted Pete again to get me several cases of soy and almond milk, shelf stable from Costco, as well as any other shelf stable milk they might have. I wanted a variety.
I sent the phone back, and broke open a bag of cashews. I really needed to get Internet here. I took the bag and my other phone to the kitchen, and got a glass of water. The kitchen had a nice sign telling me what Internet access cost, that it wasn’t very fast, and that sometimes the local government turned it off because it needed the bandwidth.
I filled out the envelope, stuck a twenty in it, and popped it in the box. The envelope had the connection instructions for the wifi with a note that once started, it was only good for 24 hours. I guess they would be by later to pick up the money.
I went on Amazon to look for stuff the island might need, but didn’t see anything particular. There was a nice sized TV in the living room area, so that was covered.
There was a knock on the door, and I answered.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Koby.”
“How’d you get here?” she asked, giving me a suspicious look.
“I walked, it wasn’t far from the store.”
“How’d you get on this island?”
“I got here like everybody else, it seemed like less than the worst possible option.”
She harrumphed, “I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just drop in out of the sky here.”
“You’re right, you guys really need a helicopter pad,” I held out the bag of cashews, “Do you like cashews?”
She took a handful, and shoved them in her mouth, chewing loudly.
“Well, you gonna invite me in?”
“Please come in,” I invited.
She stepped in and looked around, then went over to the kitchen and started a pot of hot water. I guess my invite meant she was making herself at home. She was big, tall and wide, and probably early sixties. She bustled around fixing herself a cup of tea, knowing which cabinets had what.
Finally she sat at the table, where I had also found a seat. She reached out and took the bag of cashews, and took another handful, but didn’t shove them in her mouth this time.
“So whatcha doing here?” she asked between chews.
“I’m hiding from the FBI,” I told her.
“You’re American?”
“For now, thinking about moving here, depends on if I can buy some land, or maybe a house.”
“We don’t sell land here, if you want to move here we will give you land, but you have to build a house.”
“No houses for sale?”
“Nah, nothing worth buying.”
“I’m thinking about a job importing stuff, start my own business bringing in stuff people need.”
“We get a boat of stuff every so often.”
“But if you could get something you really wanted right away, what would it be?”
“I like these cashews.”
“I’ve got more, you can keep the bag.”
“Thanks. You’re nice for a stranger.”
“So anything you wish you had?”
“I’d love some nice cheese. Haven’t had good cheese in years, store has it but it’s expensive.”
“No dairy farming on the island?”
“Nah, all the goats are wild.”
“No cows?”
“Not for decades ... Just not enough for them to eat, or they fall off the mountain. Had one once, too expensive to import food for them.”
“Huh, interesting. When is the next town potluck.”
“Tomorrow for lunch, but you have to bring something.”
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