Electronic Gags (3 page)

“Why?
You love the club.”

“I
didn’t like the way the other women looked at me. I even heard whispers. They
believe I am the mother of a CIB informer. I think I have to leave this neighborhood.”

“Mom,
I’m sorry. I wish I had―”

“You
wish you had listened to me and stopped hanging out with Michael?”

“Yes,”
was his barely audible reply.

“Freddie,
how many times did I tell you to end your friendship with Michael?” She pointed
at his forearm “How did you get that scar?”

Freddie
looked at the childhood scar on his forearm. He got it when he fell from a peach
and broke his hand. He and Michael had been caught stealing peaches from a
neighbor’s orchard at night. Freddie didn’t want to steal the peaches but Michael
had been persuasive. It wasn’t right for one man to have so many peaches whilst
his neighbors were wanting, Michael had reasoned. The peaches were rotting and
falling to the ground; the owner of the orchard wasn’t going to feel the loss
of twenty peaches.

“And
how did you get the scar on your forehead?”

Freddie
swallowed and looked away from his mother. He got the scar fighting after Michael
insulted two boys at the shopping mall.

“I
warned you many times about Michael but you didn’t listen.” She glared at him,
imagining how hard she would have spanked him if he was still a small a boy.
“Don’t do anything silly like visiting Michael in prison. Go back to the wildlife
refuge.”

“Mom,
I can’t go now. I have to clear my name.”

Melissa
frowned, telling herself that if he was still a minor, she would have grounded
him for a week. “Don’t be silly Freddie. What use is a good name when you are
dead? The only way to prove your innocence is to confess to high treason, get
arrested and die with Michael.”

“Mom...”

“Freddie,
go back to the wildlife refuge. I would rather have you alive. Promise me you
won’t do anything silly.”

“I
promise.”

Freddie
left his mother’s house and walked to his girlfriend’s home two streets away.
He found her on the verandah, cleaning the front windows.

“Hey
baby girl,” he said. “You don’t look very happy to see me.”

“How
are you, Freddie?” she said without looking at him.

“Freddie?
What happened to darling? That’s not the kind of reception a man expects from
his woman after three weeks without seeing each other.”

She
put her hands on her waist. “Freddie, I think we should stop seeing each
other.”

“What?”

“I
need some time.”

“Oh
I get it,” Freddie said with a sigh. “Michael’s mother is your mom’s friend and
she told your mom what she thinks happened the day the CIB arrested Michael.
And when your mother told you, you believed her.”

Tiffany
turned away. She couldn’t look at him.

“Tiffany,
do you believe I betrayed Michael?” Freddie pleaded. “You of all people?”

She
summoned the courage to look him in the eyes. “I know the CIB forced you to do
what you did. I just need some time to think over the matter.”

“Tiff―”

“Please
Freddie, don’t say anything more. I’m sorry it came to this.”

“Did
your mom force you to dump me?” he asked, walking towards her.

“No
it was my decision,” she said firmly, retreating from him. “Goodbye Freddie.”

“Goodbye
Tiffany.” He walked away without turning back, tears gathering in the corners
of his eyes.

All Cabinet
members rose from their seats when the supreme leader of the Ten Districts of
America entered, shadowed by his bodyguard, Assistant Police Commissioner Evans.

“Please
take your seats, patriots,” President Ward said.

“Thank
you, Patriot President,” they chorused and sat down.

This
was a routine Cabinet meeting. On Mondays, President Brandon Ward met his
ministers at ten o’clock.

“Minister
of State Security, tell us about the security situation in the country,” the
president ordered.

“Long
live President Ward, the supreme leader of the nation!” Collins shouted, waving
his fist.

“Long
live!” all the members of the Cabinet responded, waving back.

“Long
live our revolution!”

“Long
live!”

“Patriot
President, the situation has returned to normal,” Collins said with a
well-measured voice. “I had a meeting with the CIB director-general on
Thursday. We haven’t received any intelligence about illegal political
gatherings. It appears the rebel group was in its formative stage. The CIB is
looking for more leads.”

“Minister
of Interior, brief us,” the president ordered.

“Long
live Patriot Ward, our supreme leader!” Campbell shouted.

“Long
live!”

“Long
live our republic!”

“Long
live.”

“The
police haven’t found evidence of more rebel action. The police commissioner
assured me that all police units are on high alert.”

“Anyone
who has anything to tell Cabinet can now speak,” President Ward said.

“What
will happen to the rebels we arrested, Your Excellence?” Campbell asked.

“We
will execute them,” the supreme leader said with enthusiasm, as if he was
speaking about the slaughter of chicken for a feast. “But we shall keep them
alive for a month or two to give the impression that we are investigating the
matter and giving them a fair trial. I will give you the dates for their
execution… Anyone else with something to say?”

Professor
Reed was about to speak when Dr Adsila Kirk, the Finance Minister, shouted
slogans and started a monologue about what she was doing in preparation for the
celebrations of the birthday of the president’s wife. No one interrupted Dr Kirk.
Everyone in the Cabinet respected the Finance Minister. Adsila Kirk was one of
President Ward’s most trusted advisors. She was a learned economist who had
kept the economy of the Ten Districts going despite Ward regime’s rampant
corruption and mismanagement. Of the ministers who headed the key ministries of
Defense, State security, Interior, Foreign Affairs, Information and Finance, Dr
Kirk was the only one who didn’t come from Subdistrict One of District One, the
president’s home area. She was the only woman and only Native American in the Cabinet.

“Long
live, His Excellence President Brandon Ward, the leader of our revolution!”
Professor Reed shouted as soon as Dr Kirk finished speaking.

“Long
live!”

“Long
live our republic!”

“Long
live!”

“Your
Excellence, the champion of our revolution and the guarantor of our
sovereignty, I thank you for this opportunity to speak.”

President
Ward suppressed a smile.
Champion of our revolution... guarantor of our
sovereignty.
If there was one thing the supreme leader liked, it was praise
and Professor Reed was good at showering him with praises. It was Professor Reed
who gave Brandon Ward the title supreme leader of the nation.

“Last
week, I spoke about a new invention I call the electronic gag. After many
sleepless nights―”

Some
ministers, led by Campbell and Collins, began to protest.

“Let
him speak,” ordered President Ward, who was still basking in the Reed’s praises.

“After
many sleepless nights, I managed to make my first electronic gag.” He opened
his briefcase and took out the device.

“It
looks like a dog collar,” mocked Collins.

“That’s
precisely how it works. The electronic gag combines the following technologies.”
He counted his fingers. “Voice recognition, speech recognition, GPS tracking,
cell tracking and electroshock weaponry. With this instrument, the state shall
know the whereabouts of every citizen and what he is saying.”

The
supreme leader became more attentive. The professor’s idea was beginning to
enchant him.

“Reed,
don’t waste our time,” Senior Minister Christopher Ward said. “We have a
country to run. We have no time for your boyish ideas.”

“Let
him speak,” the supreme leader silenced his brother.

“Thank
you, Your Excellence,” Professor Reed said. “Voice recognition is the
digitalization of―”

“Reed!”
barked the supreme leader.

Campbell
and Collins exchanged smiles, thinking the president had had enough of Reed’s
idea.

“Yes,
Your Excellence,” Professor Reed stammered.

“Speak
in language we all understand, not this technical jargon.”

“Please
forgive me, Your Majesty―I mean Your Excellence,” Professor Reed said,
deliberately making the mistake to address the president like a king. He knew
that although President Ward never said it, he saw himself as the king of the
Ten Districts of America.

“Your
Majesty?” the supreme leader said, stifling a smile. “Reed, you flatter me. Go
on with your lecture.”

“Voice
recognition is technology that recognizes the voice of a speaker and speech
recognition is the technology that recognizes what the speaker is saying.” The
professor looked at the supreme leader to check whether he was satisfied with
the definitions. “We configure the electronic gag to recognize a citizen’s
voice. If possible, Your Excellence, I need a human subject to fit with the
electronic gag so that I can demonstrate how it works.”

“Who
is willing to volunteer for the demonstration?” President Ward asked his
ministers.

“We
can’t use the ministers, Your Excellence. The electronic gag administers nasty
electric shocks into its subject when he speaks without airtime. I was hoping
to get a prisoner.”

“We
have lots of prisoners in our jails,” President Ward said. “Campbell, prisons
fall under your ministry. Get us a prisoner ASAP.”

“Yes,
Your Excellence.” Glaring at Reed, Campbell phoned the commissioner of the
prison service. “I need a prisoner delivered to Cabinet House right now... any
prisoner. It’s an order from the supreme leader himself.”

There
was silence as the Cabinet waited for the prisoner. The supreme leader smoked a
cigar. Campbell and Collins glared at Reed who nervously toyed with his
electronic gag.

The
doorbell rang after six minutes.

“Evans,
open the door,” the supreme leader ordered his bodyguard.

Evans
quickly opened the door, admitting a senior CIB agent clad in an immaculate
suit.

“There
is a prisoner for you outside, Your Excellence,” the agent said.

“Bring
him in,” ordered the president.

The
CIB agent walked out of the boardroom and returned with a handcuffed Michael
Wright. “He is the leader of the rebel group that calls itself the Freedom
Front, Your Excellence.”

“He
will do,” Brandon Ward said. “His group’s treason prompted Professor Reed to bring
his electronic gag idea to the Cabinet and he is a fitting subject to the
professor’s experiment. Professor, we are all waiting to see your electronic
gag in action.”

“Thank
you, Your Excellence,” Professor Reed said before he turned to the CIB agent.
“Bring the prisoner here.”

The
agent shoved the terrified Michael to the professor.

“What’s
your name?” Reed asked.

“Michael,”
was the nervous reply.

The
professor opened his laptop and put the electronic gag on Michael’s neck. “Say
one two three four,” he ordered Michael.

“One
two three four.”

Reed
turned to the president. “My supreme leader, I am going to make the prisoner
say certain words, which I will record. These words will help the system create
and memorize the prisoner’s voiceprint. There is a wireless connection between
the gag and the computer.”  He turned to Michael. “Calm down, Michael. I won’t
hurt you, okay?”

“Yes.”

Professor
Reed gave Michael a piece of paper and made him read it whilst he recorded,
checking the voiceprint on the laptop. “I have configured the electronic gag to
recognize the subject’s voice,” he said after seven minutes.

“And
how will that help the Ten Districts of America?” Christopher Ward asked, to
the laughter of Collins and Campbell.

“After
being fitted with electronic gags, citizens will have to buy airtime if they
want to speak. It’s the same way cell network companies charge their clients
except that this time citizens won’t be paying for phone calls… they will be
paying for speaking. The moment a citizen starts speaking the electronic gag
recognizes his voice and sends a signal to the main computer, activating the
billing system to deduct money from his account till he stops speaking.”

“And
what will you do when a citizen speaks without airtime?” Christopher Ward
snickered.

“That’s
when the electroshock belt comes into play. Each time the subject speaks
without airtime, his credit falls below zero, triggering the electroshock belt
to administer an electric shock into his neck.” The professor assumed a
lecturer’s voice, increasing the resentment of his rivals. He had once been a
lecturer at the Brandon Ward National University, formerly the University Of California,
and as he lectured his colleagues, he realized how much he missed teaching.
“The belt shocks the subject for exactly the same amount of time he spoke
without airtime. If the subject speaks for three seconds without airtime, he
gets a three second shock. After getting the shock, the subject’s account
returns to zero. In other words, a citizen who speaks without airtime pays with
pain.”