Chapter 10

Preparations for war are never easy, but preparations do take place before a battle, and not during or after. Some would say that whole campaigns are won or lost before anyone in their right mind fires a shot. Simon understood that he was the last hope of preventing a war, and he never thought he could fail, but he did. Salazar followed him after he left his father’s penthouse, and suddenly it was war, a war between bipolar worlds, among agreements and disagreements, as though each side knew already what was to be won and what was to be lost, and it sickened him that after all these years they already knew the battle, already knew the issues, already knew the context of argument, and moved forward on their own accord regardless of himself. He was, after all, a good man. He wanted no part of it.

He didn’t know how he would repair the relationship with his father, or if it were even possible to repair it. The way Charlie dismissed him from the penthouse suggested that Simon had been relegated to his memories and was in no way a part of his future or his real estate fortune.

The fortune didn’t matter as much as the loss of love between them. He could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn’t want to see him again, and any love they had shared didn’t exist anymore. He considered himself disowned, and the entire fiasco with Salazar holding them up at gunpoint served as their final meeting. He couldn’t imagine his life without his father, and he grieved a little after they left. Yet he remained confident that they would cross paths at some later date, in the not-so-distant future. And the hope of someday meeting Charlie again prevented him from sobbing like the lonely and frightened child who had lost his way under ground, only that underground was the concrete jungle of New York and Salazar with the gun pointed at his back his only remaining motivation to return.

Salazar followed him through the subway system, the gun tucked in his jacket. Had Simon wandered astray, Salazar would have shot him without question. The westbound shuttle arrived at a crowded platform, and Salazar followed him into the subway car and eyed him from a distance. Simon moved down the subway car in the hopes of running from him, but Salazar followed just a few paces away, the gun at his side cocked and ready. Salazar caught up to him and cornered him in the subway car. Had Simon slipped through the sliding doors Salazar would have fired.

Simon remained cornered, obeying his command. How badly he wanted to escape, but he didn’t want to die. He had rediscovered the world, and, despite all of its abnormalities, he still wanted to live. Yes, it was about money and power, and it turned men to stone, but he didn’t want to die. He would accept the imperfections of his life and move on. At gunpoint these things became clear.

Salazar eventually brought him to the Bus Terminal and into the hands of Miriam who stood upon the stage within the underground auditorium. The masses hung on her faint but venerable words. The air loomed hot and wet. A matchstick would have melted, and a fire would have devoured the place, an interchange of heat and humidity that made him sweat and yearn for an open fire hydrant above ground. He figured she indoctrinated everyone in the same manner, ripping them from their known lives and relocating them within her own sordid paradigm of what people ought to be doing and ought to be thinking. God bless her then, because Simon realized that most people, when it came down to it, didn’t know what to do or what to think. She alone had every hypothetical covered within the web she spun, and after a time sitting and watching Salazar from the corner of his eye, Simon listened to what the woman had to say. Salazar gave Miriam hand signals from his seat. After the crowd settled, he felt like yelling into the silence. In no way could he prevent her preparations.

“Those of you in doubt at this time are welcomed to leave,” she said. “I grant you amnesty. Leave now and avoid what’s to come, for we have tried to get along. We have kept quiet, done our work, and tried, really tried to make peace with the outer world. To those of you who needed clothes, we have clothed you. To those of you who were hungry, we have fed you. To those of you who needed shelter, we protected you. And our own world is different, isn’t it? It is unlike any other world. We think differently now that we have been counted for naught. We have been wronged, and so our reasoning has changed. We adapt in ways that are unique, and I say that we who gather here have a novelty of reasoning and a gift of personality that is in no way compatible with the world above. But I alone cannot tell you what you should do. You are all indecisive at this juncture for a reason, aren’t you? One way leads towards compliance, and the other towards rebellion, and it is understandable that you feel this way. I am no different.

“I am a woman who thinks, and so I must choose amongst a variety of thoughts and opinions shaped nonetheless by our newfound rationality and experience.

“Well, this is where we have ended up. We have all thought the matter through, and despite the world of opportunity above, we have refused it and opted instead for another, separate world. No longer will we compromise, because the moment we bend is the moment we allow them to dictate our fate. It is the moment we die. Fighting for our lives is much better than death, and believe me, we have tried to find a reasonable solution.

“We have negotiated with the oppressive power above, and we have searched for a common compromise. We just learned that they don’t want to compromise. They won’t let us buy our own building. The won’t listen to our pleas for a space above ground where we could finally live at peace and legitimacy, and they won’t listen to our reasonableness. Instead they use muscle and selfishness to get what they want, whereas our society is based on altruism and good will. This is what separates us from them, and the divide is too wide to bridge. Not only do they profit from the suffering of our tenants, they also humiliate us in our impoverished condition. What they call freedom, we call inequality, because we already know that freedom is reserved for those who are able to afford it, those who own the means of production, those who already hold the cards and deal losing hands if only to win the game. It makes me sick to my stomach that this corruption has infiltrated their government, that an elitism fuels their media, and that we in the pit of despair have to fight to get what is rightfully ours. And fighting is the only option. Fighting is our only salvation...”

She talked in the same vein for a good hour, casting a spell over the audience. She rallied them with her rhetoric, as all of them were ready to refuse Sample Real Estate its rent, barricade themselves within their respective apartments, and kill anyone who tried to enter.

In her new world they would be given apartments and not have to worry about paying rent. In her new world they wouldn’t have to worry about food and clothing, and with her words she forged heavenly dreams into plans for a more equitable reality.

With Salazar next to him, his hand still tucked into his jacket, Simon couldn’t escape her insanity. What she promised she could in no way deliver, her vision a fantastic mirage that hid a need for absolute control and power, which, if unchecked, would have resulted in a dangerous dictatorship and a ghastly atrocity in order to capture what couldn’t be captured. He discovered that her world was a paradise that he would never want to live in. It relied on the idea of happiness while excluding its pursuit, an ideal that neglected what was actually possible.

She ended her speech, and the audience roared in approval. She certainly had a way with words, but her words didn’t sway him. Salazar nudged him in the back with the gun, and Simon exited the darkness of the auditorium and landed back in the prison cell. In her speech she said anyone could leave, but apparently this didn’t apply to him.

He paced the cell, wondering when she’d release him. After his mind grew tired of thinking, he fell asleep on the bed, the lights shining into him.

She startled him out of a restless sleep. She sat in a chair next to the bed, her thin lips curved into a mocking, menacing smile.

“I suppose it’s time to find out if you’re with us or against us.”

“I’m of no value to you. I don’t understand why you insist on keeping me here.”

“You can’t leave. You already know too much. You know how we finance our operations. You know we are taking the apartment building by force. And you know beforehand that many lives will be lost. I can’t just let you leave.”

“I want to go home. I can’t stay here like this.”

“You are home, Simon. Where else do you have to go?”

She had a point, and it scared him.

“If you let me leave, I won’t tell the police. I’ll walk away and leave town. I won’t return.”

“We both know that that won’t happen. Your integrity led you here, and your integrity will lead you right to the nearest police precinct. Don’t try to outsmart me.”

“I’m not trying to outsmart anyone. You have no right.”