“Have you decided where you’re going on your honeymoon yet?” said Charlotte’s friend Julia.
“We’re thinking about Australia.” said Charlotte, laying an affectionate hand on Ray’s arm.
“No, no, you should go to Thanalia.” said Iklan, Julia’s boyfriend. “It has amazing beaches, mountains, incredible cities like you won’t believe. Why not be adventurous? You don’t want to go places where everyone else goes.”
“Thanalia?” said Ray. “Isn’t it a dictatorship? I thought you had to leave in hurry before they killed you.”
“That’s true,” said Iklan. “but that was a political dispute between me and the King. The people of Thanalia are amazing. You don’t have to worry about our idiot rulers. As a tourist, they won’t bother you.”
Charlotte looked at Ray uncertainly.
“I can get you a cheap room at the best hotel in Telluria, the capital.” said Iklan. “I have contacts. You can stay as long as you like in luxury like you won’t believe.”
“Well, it sounds pretty amazing.” said Charlotte tentatively.
“It does sound interesting.” said Ray.
“Is it safe for travellers?” asked Charlotte.
“Completely.” said Iklan. “King Akabali has a zero-tolerance policy on crime. There is essentially no crime. You can swim in our beautiful blue sea and leave your things on the beach without the slightest fear that anyone will steal them.”
“Let’s do it.” Charlotte said to Ray, suddenly warming to the idea.
“OK.” said Ray.
And just like that, their fate was decided.
The day after their wedding, Ray and Charlotte boarded a flight for Serbia, and from there they flew to Thanalia.
They arrived in the city of Telluria several hours later. The airport was almost deserted.
“We’d better get some cash out.” said Ray.
“There’s a cash machine over there.” said Charlotte.
The cash dispenser whirred away and dispensed a large wad of colourful notes.
“They’ve all got some bloke’s face on them.” said Ray, flicking through the wad.
“Must be the King.” said Charlotte.
“He looks like a horrible piece of work.” said Ray. “I wouldn’t like to meet him in a dark alley.”
The face was extremely stern, without an ounce of human warmth in its expression.
“Shhh.” said Charlotte. “Let’s not act like ignorant tourists.”
She took his arm in hers.
“We are ignorant tourists.” said Ray.
Outside a row of taxis stood waiting at the front of the airport, on a road lined with palm trees.
They got into a taxi and asked to be taken to the Hotel Luxurus.
“First time in Thanalia?” said the taxi driver over his shoulder.
“Yes.” said Ray.
“American?” said the taxi driver.
“English.” said Ray.
“Hmmph.” said the taxi driver, and he lapsed into silence.
“I’m not sure they like English people.” Charlotte whispered into his ear.
“It’s probably just him.” whispered Ray.
The hotel was just as grand as Iklan had promised. It was built on a scale that almost boggled the imagination, but appeared nearly unoccupied. Their room was larger than the apartment they lived in, and featured a jacuzzi, a vast four-poster bed, enormous windows, and a balcony with a sea view.
“It’s amazing.” said Charlotte, as they stood on the balcony, inhaling the ocean air.
Below them, on the other side of a quiet road, lay a wide beach of white sand.
“Iklan really didn’t oversell it at all.” said Ray.
“I’m glad we came here instead of Australia.” said Charlotte.
“Me too.” said Ray.
In the evening, they visited the hotel’s restaurant. It was lit by candles and the walls bore several large portraits of the jowly king.
“English?” asked the waiter, a tall man with an impressive moustache.
“Yes.” said Charlotte.
“I bring you English menu.” he said.
The menu turned out to be quite poorly translated.
“Rooted sods with peculiar granules?” said Ray wonderingly.
Charlotte laughed. She had always loved Ray’s sense of humour. He was funny even when he wasn’t trying to be.
“I’m thinking of having the ‘Disturbed legs in odorous jelly’ she said.
With the help of the waiter, who spoke fragmentary English, they managed to order food that sounded as though it at least wouldn’t offend their sensibilities.
“It’s actually delicious.” said Charlotte approvingly.
“What did you order, again?” Ray asked.
“I haven’t the faintest.” said Charlotte. “I think it’s pork and some kind of vegetable. How’s yours?”
“Innovative.” said Ray.
He gazed at her admiringly. They had been together only six months, and there was not the slightest doubt in his mind that she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. She met his gaze and held it, smiling.
The following morning they left their hotel to tour the town.
“So we’re going to see the … Kajaki Palace first?” said Charlotte.
“That’s the plan.” said Ray.
“I can’t believe how hot it is, so early in the morning.” said Charlotte.
“I bet it’s raining in England.” said Ray.
They walked hand-in-hand through wide streets lined with palm trees, impressively large and ornate buildings meeting them at every turn.
“I can’t believe more people don’t come here.” said Ray.
“When I told people we were coming here, they all asked me where it was.” said Charlotte. “Not a one of my friends has heard of it.”
As they got further from the district containing the hotel, the streets began to get busier with cars and people.
Eventually they passed a small kiosk selling newspapers and drinks, the newspapers all written in the incomprehensible Thalanian language with its pre-Cyrillic script.
“Let’s buy a drink.” said Charlotte. “I’m already thirsty in this heat.”
Behind the counter in the kiosk sat a wizened old man. Ray asked for a bottle of water, pointing at the bottles lined up in a fridge behind the man.
“Water?” said the man.
“Yes.” said Ray, smiling. “You speak English?”
“Engish, no.” said the man.
He handed Ray a bottle and Ray proffered one of the notes they had obtained from the cash machine at the airport.
The man shook his head.
“NastiPay.” he said, passing Ray a sheet of paper.
Ray looked at the sheet of paper. It was full of incomprehensible text, scattered with numbers.
“It’s not enough?” said Ray, adding another note to the first.
“NastiPay.” said the man, and he gestured towards a box resembling a vending machine, a little way further along the street.
“OK.” said Ray, confused.
He took the bottle and handed it to Charlotte, looking back at the man to be sure the man didn’t think he was stealing the water. The man smiled enigmatically.
“Doesn’t he want any money?” said Charlotte.
“I think we have to pay over there.” said Ray, pointing at the machine.
“What’s on the paper?” Charlotte asked, taking the paper from him.
She stared at it, perplexed.
“I have absolutely no idea.” said Ray.
The machine said “NastiPay.” on the front in large letters. The rest of the machine was entirely covered in complex text, sometimes in numbered items, other times in large paragraphs, aside from a screen with button labelled with numbers.
“NastiPay?” said Charlotte, laughing. “It’s certainly well-named.”
“Must mean something different in their language.” said Ray.
“What do you think we’re supposed to do?” said Charlotte.
“I assume we have to enter information from this paper into the machine and then insert cash.” said Ray.
He looked at the paper and then at the machine, and then back at the paper again. Then he tried pressing buttons.
“This might be the price, here.” said Charlotte, pointing at a figure on the paper. “Try entering that.”
Ray entered the number into the machine. A stern-looking text appeared on the screen, decorated with warning symbols.
“That didn’t go so well.” said Ray.
“Let’s ask the man for help.” said Charlotte.
They went back to the man in the kiosk but no matter what they said, he only repeated the word “NastiPay” and gestured at the machine.
They went back to the machine.
Charlotte said, “Excuse me!” to a woman who was passing by, hoping to enlist her help, but the woman only said, “Yakala!” in a tone of voice that suggested she was both angry and upset, then jabbered at them ferociously while walking off.
“‘Excuse me’ must mean something really bad in their language.” said Ray.
“Stupid cow.” said Charlotte.
“Tell you what,” said Ray, “I’ll search on my phone.”
“Do you have Internet here?” asked Charlotte.
“It’s expensive but it works.” said Ray.
He searched for NastiPay and announced, “I can’t find any instructions but there’s a NastiPay app I can install.”
“Well let’s do that at the hotel and we can figure it out later.” said Charlotte. “I bet someone at the hotel can help us.”
They spent the day wandering around the town, eating lunch at a little cafe. The cafe served pizza, heavily garnished with a greenish sauce that tasted, Charlotte said, like a cross between lemons and molasses, with a hint of goat.
In the afternoon they walked on the beach, which like the hotel, was strangely deserted.
By the time they arrived back at the hotel, the sun was already setting, and they ate a meal of what seemed to be parsnips mixed with sausage and mango.
“You know,” said Ray, “the food here’s not really to my taste.”
“I just wish I knew what we’re eating.” said Charlotte.
“Probably better off not knowing.” said Ray.
They didn’t remember about the NastiPay app until the following morning. Ray installed it on his phone. Its interface appeared just as incomprehensible as the NastiPay machine, but with the help of the hotel staff, they were able to connect Ray’s bank card and fill in details from the paper the old man had given them.
“Yais.” said the man at the front desk of the hotel. “The payment is been through.”
They passed several day exploring the town. Thanalia seemed to have a rich history of kings and wars, and experiments with various disastrous political and economic systems. Finally, in 1992, King Akabali had seized power in a military coup and had instituted an economic and social system known as Akabalism. This, together with the discovery of vast oil fields, had brought stability to Thanalia.
By the final day of their holiday, they both agreed that they had experienced enough history and architecture.
“I wouldn’t mind spending today just lounging on the beach.” said Charlotte. “We can swim. The town’s beautiful but it’s so disconcerting, not understanding anything.”
“Sounds good to me.” said Ray. “It’s a nice enough place but I think next time let’s go to Australia.”
“I hope you’re not planning to have another honeymoon.” said Charlotte, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’re stuck with me, now.”
“There’s no-one else on the planet I’d rather be stuck with.” said Ray, laughing.
The weather proved to be as warm as it had on the first day. They took beach towels and sun lotion to the beach and swam in the sea before going to lie in the shade of a palm.
“I think Thanalia would be better if it was just beaches.” said Ray, his eyes closed against the strong sunlight, which was too bright for his eyes even behind dark sunglasses.
“Ray.” said Charlotte, a sudden note of fear in her voice.
He opened his eyes. Standing there were three men dressed in grey police uniforms and a forth man, with grey hair, wearing a suit.
The men began shouting at the couple in the Thanalian language.
“We don’t understand.” said Charlotte, almost in tears.
The police physically yanked them to their feet and covered them both in blankets, then began dragging them towards the road, fixing their hands behind their backs with handcuffs.
“What’s going on?” said Ray. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”
On the road stood a police van and a police car. They pushed Ray into the back of the van.
“Ray!” shouted Charlotte.
“Contact the Embassy!” shouted Ray, before they shut the van doors.
When the van doors opened again, Ray found it had pulled up outside a high brick wall with a gate that looked like the gate of a prison.
The gate opened slowly, and they marched Ray into a vast ominous concrete building with murals of the King’s head and Thanalian flags on its impassive facade.
He was marched down a long corridor hung with yet more portraits of the King and pushed roughly into a room where a stony-faced woman in a military uniform threw a kind of boiler suit at him and shouted something. A man standing behind him unlocked his handcuffs and Ray picked the suit up off the floor.
“Please.” said Ray. “I don’t know why I’m here. I’m English. I’m a tourist.”
He felt a stinging pain at the back of his neck and turned to find the uniformed man behind him had hit him with a bamboo stick.
The woman shouted again, pointing at the suit. He put it on. It appeared to be a kind of prison uniform. It smelt of old sweat and was decorated with ominous-looking text.
Then two guards marched him down the corridor and threw him into a room with eight other people, slamming the door shut after them.
None of the others looked up. They were lying around apathetically, some with bruised faces.
The room contained no beds; there was only a bucket in one corner, next to a sink, and some filthy mats on the floor. There was very little free space in the room and the air smelt strongly of faeces and sweat. There was no window.
“Does anyone speak English?” said Ray desperately.
An old man sitting propped against a wall finally looked up and said. “Sit.”
The old man shuffled to one side slightly and patted the space next to him.
Ray sat down down next to the old man.
“What is this place?” he said.
“No.” said the old man.
“No?” said Ray. “No what? You don’t know?”
“No Engish.” said the old man.
“Where are we?” said Ray.
The corners of the old man’s mouth twitched up slightly in a weak attempt at a smile, and he said “No.” again.
Later that day a bucket containing food was placed in the cell by a guard. Again Ray tried to tell the guard that he was a tourist, but the guard ignored him and curtly slammed the door shut.
The inmates began to scoop food out of the bucket with their hands.
Ray looked at them in disgust. The old man motioned to Ray to take food with his hand, but Ray shook his head.
Three months passed by. Ray gradually grew used to scooping food out of the bucket with his bare hands. The food varied in colour and seemed to consist of old vegetables and meat, in a kind of dry stew. Frequently it tasted mouldy and sometimes he found hairs or maggots in it.
He spent the days sitting propped against the wall and the nights lying awkwardly in whatever free space he could manage to obtain.
There was no privacy in the cell and whenever one of the inmates had to make use of the bucket in the corner, the others tended to get angry, but there was no other choice.
Every night the lights were switched off, plunging the cell into complete darkness, and then the lights blinked on again in what Ray guessed to be the morning.
It proved impossible to communicate with the old man, or anyone else.
On one occasion two of Ray’s cellmates began arguing loudly and guards came in and dragged them out of the cell. When they were thrown back into the cell, they were badly bruised and bleeding. After that they stopped arguing.
Ray kept his spirits up as best he could by telling himself that the misunderstanding would soon be cleared up and he would be freed, and would return home.
He wondered what they had done with Charlotte. Since they hadn’t put her in the van, he was fairly sure they must have sent her back to Britain. She would have contacted the British Embassy in Thanalia, and the government in the UK, and likely the Press. People must be working to obtain his freedom.
A dark corner of his mind wondered if, instead, Charlotte too might be imprisoned somewhere. But even then, their friends and relatives in Britain would be demanding to know where they were and would be making every effort to secure their release.
Not until four almost unendurable months had passed did anything happen to relieve Ray’s suffering. By that time he had seen cellmates come and go, but none of them had been able to speak English or had even wanted to talk to him, especially since talking could result in a beating at the hands of the guards.
One day shortly after eating breakfast, which had consisted of a piece of mouldy bread, the cell door opened and a guard appeared.
He barked something at Ray. Ray stood up uncertainly and the guard repeated the order, beckoning. Ray stepped forwards and the guard marched him down a long corridor towards a room with an unpainted iron door.
Ray felt an almost uncontrollable mixture of emotions. On the one hand, he suspected he may be about to be released. On the other hand, he also suspected they were going to torture him.
The guard opened the metal door and pushed Ray into the room, then slammed the door shut behind him.
In the room there was nothing apart from a table with four chairs, and another poster of the King.
Ray walked slowly around the table, stretching his legs, but the months of enforced sitting had wasted his muscles and contracted his tendons, and walking was difficult. He took a seat at the table, facing the door.
After around an hour, the door suddenly opened, making Ray jump, and a man appeared.
The man’s appearance was quite incredible. He was rather obese and wore a kind of beige cloak. A flowery velvet scarf stuck out of his shirt collar, and he had an enormous crop of frizzy grey hair and wore thick horn-rimmed spectacles. In height he stood somewhat above six feet, and he carried a small leather bag.
“Ray!” shouted the man effusively. “Don’t worry, I’m here now! All will be resolved.”
The man shook his hand warmly.
“Who are you?” said Ray, surprised to find his vocal chords still worked perfectly after the months of disuse.
“Oh do forgive me, dear boy, my name is Shipley, and I’m the British ambassador to Thanalia. I hear there’s been a frightful mixup.”
“Do you know why I’m here?” said Ray.
“Of course, haven’t they told you?” said Shipley.
“No.” said Ray. “I haven’t spoken to anyone in three months, I think. No-one will tell me anything. Can you get me out of here? Have you heard from my wife?”
“One thing at a time, dear fellow. As to your lovely wife Charlotte, she was deported a while ago, and has spared no expense in attempting to bring your case to light. You were arrested for the theft of three thousand Thanalian dollars.”
“Theft?” said Ray. “But I haven’t stolen anything.”
“Well, you see,” said Shipley, rummaging about in his leather case, “on the — ah — 23rd of June, you purchased a bottle of water from a roadside vendor.”
Ray thought for a minute.
“Yes.” he said. “I did do that, but I paid for it.”
“You paid for it via the NastiPay system.” said Shipley.
“Yes.” said Ray. “I paid in full.”
“But you see, your payment was two hours late. You failed to pay within the stipulated twenty hour period. This then accumulated a fine, which you did not pay.”
“They arrested me for not paying for a bottle of water quickly enough?” said Ray incredulously.
“Technically, they arrested you for not paying a fine.” said Shipley. “King Akabali has a zero-tolerance policy on crime. That’s why the place is so safe.”
“It’s hardly safe if the police might throw you into prison at any moment.” said Ray angrily.
“Let’s remain calm, shall we?” said Shipley. “Displays of anger may constitute grounds for further charges.”
“There’s no-one else here!” said Ray.
“They’re probably watching us.” said Shipley theatrically, out of the corner of his mouth.
“When can I leave here?” said Ray.
“Good news on that score.” said Shipley. “The King has agreed to waive all charges. I’m just filling out the forms now and I expect we’ll have you out by next week.”
“Next week?” said Ray.
“Patience, dear boy.” said Shipley. “Be thankful they’re letting you out at all. I had to apply the full leverage of the British State to arrange your release. I shall be back in under a week, and I’ll have a car waiting to take you to the airport.”
Ray suddenly felt himself tearing up.
“Thank you.” he said.
Shipley reached over the table and patted his shoulder.
“All’s well that ends well.” he said.
Ray counted the days till his release, but after a week had passed, there was still no sign of Shipley. Not until two weeks had gone by was he summoned out of the cell again by a guard. Again he was taken to the room with the table, but this time he found Shipley sitting with two Thanalian men in uniforms.
“Sit down, Ray.” said Shipley soberly.
“What’s happened?” said Ray, alarmed by Shipley’s sombre tone.
“Ray, there’s been a development.” said Shipley. “Does this look at all familiar?”
Shipley threw a photograph onto the table in front of him. It was a photograph of Ray and Charlotte together at the airport.
“Of course it does.” said Ray.
“You were recorded by security cameras outside a cash dispenser at the airport. It appears, Ray, you were engaged in ridiculing the King.”
Ray felt himself turning pale.
“I didn’t ridicule the King.” he said. “I didn’t know anything about the King.”
One of the uniformed men said something angrily in Thanalian.
“They say they have a recording of you referring to the King as a —-” He paused and said “Forgive me.” to the uniformed men. “—as a horrible piece of work.”
The uniformed man began to shout angrily, wagging his finger in Ray’s face.
“Tell them I’m willing to pay whatever fine they ask.” said Ray. “I just want to go home.”
“I’m afraid this changes things, Ray.” said Shipley. “They’ve arranged a trial for you.”
“Surely you can do something?”
“My hands are tied. I’m completely powerless now.”
“But —”
“The trial is set for tomorrow.” said Shipley. “I strongly advise you to plead guilty. That way we will be able to appeal for clemency. Otherwise they’re rather liable to throw the book at you, so to speak.”
Turning to the uniformed guard who was towering over Ray, looking as though he could barely restrain himself from violence, he added, “That’s all, gentlemen, thank you.”
And he stood up, gathering papers into his leather bag.
“Plead guilty.” he said, looking Ray directly and pointedly in the eyes. Then he opened the door and left.
The angry guard slapped Ray’s face, and shouted something, then they dragged him back to the cell.
The following morning Ray was taken from the cell and marched outside the building in handcuffs to a waiting police van. He blinked in the bright sunlight. He felt an urge to throw himself down onto the ground and scream like a small child. Anything to stay out of the prison cell for a little longer. Anything to avoid whatever fate awaited him. They bundled him into the van.
Ten minutes later the van stopped outside a grey concrete court building, and he was taken inside and brought directly into a room presided over by a judge who wore an elaborate hat that looked almost ecclesiastical.
There were a number of other people in the court room, but no sign of a jury.
The judge began to rant unhingedly at Ray, at one point waving the photograph of him and Charlotte at the airport and at other times pointing his finger and screaming red-faced at Ray.
Finally he seemed to compose himself, and a man standing at his side, wearing a black robe, stood up and said something to Ray.
A woman sitting next to the man said, “Pease stand.”
Ray stood up wearily, his heart pounding.
The judge began to speak, leaving pauses for the woman to interpret his words.
“How you pead?” said the woman. “Guilty or not guilty.”
“Guilty.” said Ray, hoarsely.
The woman translated his plea to the judge, who nodded in angry satisfaction.
The judge started to speak again.
“In view of the sewiousness of your cimes.” said the woman, interpreting the judge’s words in barely-understandable English, “I have no choice but to impose a sevee sentence. You are sentenced to amputation of both the feet.”
“What?” said Ray. “My feet? No!”
The judge barked something at the police standing by Ray’s side and they began to drag him out of the courtroom.
“No!” shouted Ray. “Not my feet! Please don’t take my feet!”
Sitting crying in the van on the way back to the prison, Ray wondered if the woman had perhaps mistranslated. Why would they cut off his feet? On the other hand, Ray thought, why wouldn’t they? They seemed entirely capable of such a vile act.
He was thrown back into the cell. His cellmates didn’t even look up, afraid of drawing unwanted attention to themselves.
That night Ray fell into an uneasy sleep, filled with nightmares in which he repeatedly awoke to find he had no feet. When the morning came, he was unable to eat the mouldy bread they gave him for breakfast.
He wondered when they proposed to carry out the barbaric sentence. Today? Tomorrow? And what would they do with him then? Would he spend the rest of his life crawling the floorboards of a Thanalian prison?
In the middle of the morning the cell door opened and two guards appeared with grimly-determined expressions on their faces. They beckoned to him.
“No!” he said, sobbing. “No, please!”
They grabbed him and dragged him down the corridor. This time instead of going to the room with the unpainted metal door, they took him to another room, this time with a varnished wooden door.
Ray was screaming hysterically. He couldn’t help himself. Later on, reflecting on his ordeal, he felt ashamed of his weakness, but he reasoned that the inadequate food and lack of exercise had all but cut loose the moorings of his mind.
The men opened the wooden door. Inside a man sat at a large table, wearing a grey uniform. They threw Ray onto a chair facing the man and left, shutting the door softly behind them.
Ray tried to compose himself and he sat up straight. At least this man didn’t look as though he was about to cut his feet off.
“Ray Greenwood.” said the man, in good English with only a trace of an accent.
It sounded more like a statement than a question.
“Yes.” said Ray.
The man shuffled some papers in front of him.
“Or should I say, Dr. Greenwood?” said the man.
A puzzled expression formed on Ray’s face.
“I don’t …” he began.
“You have a doctorate in nuclear engineering, do you not?” said the man.
“Yes.” said Ray. “I’d almost forgotten about it.”
“Since your doctorate, you have worked as a computer programmer.” said the man. “Nuclear engineering was not to your taste?”
“I … grew disenchanted with it.” said Ray, struggling for words.
“You are sentenced to have your feet removed.” said the man.
Ray’s stomach somersaulted and tied itself into a knot.
“Don’t worry.” said the man. “That need not happen. I’m here to offer you a deal. The Western countries do everything they can to prevent Thanalia from progressing as a nuclear power. We would like you to return to your country, where you will obtain work at a nuclear facility. There you will obtain details of the technical specifications of the facility, which you will send to us via a secret contact. How do you feel about that, Dr. Greenwood?”
“I’ll do it.” said Ray.
“Good.” said the man. “You are perhaps thinking you will double-cross us: return to your country and then refuse to spy for us. For this reason you will undergo a year of training, so that we can be sure of your intentions. And after that, when you return to your homeland, if you do not perform the necessary tasks, we will kill your wife. And then we will kill you.”
The man smiled coldly.
Thoughts raced through Ray’s head. It seemed the only way he could keep his feet and return home was to agree to spy for Thanalia. But once he was home, he thought, he would tell the police everything and perhaps they would put him and Charlotte into some kind of protection program. Something could be worked out.
“I accept your terms.” said Ray hoarsely.
“Excellent.” said the man. “We will begin tomorrow with the reeducation program.”
“R-reeducation?” stammered Ray.
“Yes.” said the man. “You must absorb internally all principles of Akabalism.”
The following morning Ray was pulled out of his cell, handcuffed with his hands behind his back, and taken to a waiting car. Even though he knew he wouldn’t be home for a long time, he felt almost ecstatic.
He was taken to what appeared to be a large farm shed outside the town somewhere. When the door of the building was opened and he was roughly thrown in, his heart sank. The barn appeared a close facsimile of his cell, except there was more space.
“Hey, can you take off these handcuffs?” he shouted as the guards retreated.
They shut the door behind them.
He found himself surrounded by a small sea of unsympathetic faces. One, which appeared more aggressive and determined than the others, said, “You are a Western pig. You must earn the right to be unhandcuffed.”
For the whole of the next week, Ray ate food from the food bucket like an animal, with his mouth. The bucket was passed to him only after the others had eaten their fill, and there generally wasn’t much left by then.
They forced him to talk endlessly about his incorrect Western ideas, and to give long speeches detailing his many faults from the perspective of Akabalism.
It took him several days to even understand what exactly they considered wrong with him, but it soon became apparent that Ray had many deficiencies in the eyes of the other prisoners, and they informed him that none of them expected to be released until he, Ray, was fully reformed.
When they finally released him from the handcuffs, his arms had swollen painfully and the cuffs had cut red grooves into his wrists.
Gradually he began to get into the swing of life in the new prison. Every day he would criticise himself for hours, surrounded by the other prisoners, who would hurl abuse at him and accuse him of insincerity.
It was true; he was insincere.
One morning an elderly prisoner with no teeth whispered to him as he was attempting to wash himself from the cell’s sink.
“The only way you will get out of here is if you believe in Akabalism, truly and sincerely.” he said. “You must believe.”
Ray forced himself to smile and nod politely. The old man drifted off back to the other side of the prison.
He resolved to do his best to really believe in Akabalism. If that was what it would take to get out of there, that was what he would do. Once he was home again, he could, after all, stop believing.
The principles of Akabalism didn’t sound immediately awful. The government controlled all commerce, but indirectly, via scores that were assigned to companies, depending on their level of adherence to the King’s principles. Individuals were also assigned scores, and an investor who invested in a company with a poor rating would soon find himself unable to travel, or to buy certain foods, or to live in certain kinds of houses, due to a drop in his own score.
Ray’s cellmates explained that before King Akabali had implemented the system, Thanalia had been ruthlessly exploited by Western governments and corporations. Thanalia’s earlier wars and famines had all been engineered by Western powers, and the famine that had supposedly occurred in the early years of King Akabali’s reign was, they told him, simply Western propaganda, designed to prevent Westerners recognising the profound wisdom of the King.
After some months, the guards judged Ray to be sufficiently reformed to be allowed to work at a nuclear facility for several days in each week. While he was there, he was allowed to sleep in a normal bed, in a small apartment, shared with three fanatical adherents of Akabalism, who also happened to be nuclear scientists.
They informed him that he would be allowed to spend more time at the facility and its surrounding campus if he showed further progression in his ideas.
Ray spent a year working at the facility, during which time his captors considered him to have made good progress. One day they told him he would be leaving, and they put him on a commercial flight for the UK.
It was the happiest day of Ray’s life, eclipsing even his wedding day.
“Remember,” a stern Thanalian to him as they dropped him off at the airport, “we have spies everywhere. If you try to double-cross us, we will kill you and any family you might have at the time.”
“My ardent desire is to assist Thanalia in its struggle against the Western imperialist pigs.” said Ray pleasantly.
Professor Gerald Shields and MI5 director Peter Elthrop sat in an empty conference room, examining documents.
“Let me get this straight.” said Elthrop. “He says they tried to brainwash him, but they didn’t succeed, and now their spies are going to kill him if he doesn’t feed nuclear secrets back to them.”
“Precisely.” said Shields.
“And what do the psychologists say?” said Elthrop.
“They say the brainwashing probably didn’t take, but they can’t be absolutely sure.” said Shields.
“What do you think, Gerald?”
“I’m not a psychologist.”
“Come on.” said Elthrop. “Cut the nonsense. What are those finely-honed instincts of yours telling you?”
“I’m inclined to believe him, but one cannot rule out that this is simply part of a very clever ruse. I do, however, have a proposed plan.”
“Let’s hear it.” said Elthrop.
“I propose we give Ray a job at the Sedgework B reprocessing plant.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“Here me out.” Shields held up his hand as if to fend off Elthrop’s protestations. “We make it easy for him to gain access to purportedly classified documents of the highest importance, and we allow him to feed those back to the Thanalians. I happen to have a fellow who thinks that, by feeding back incorrect enrichment protocols we could, potentially, destroy their enrichment plant entirely, not to say rather spectacularly.”
“It’s a risky strategy.” said Elthrop.
“Not when you consider there’s very little else in the whole plant that isn’t already public information at this point.”
“Suppose we accept your suggestion. What do we tell Ray?”
“I think we’re going to have to trust him.” said Shields. “That might be our best option.”
“You want me to actually feed them industrial secrets?” said Ray.
Shields and Elthrop sat with him in a small office overlooking the Thames.
“You’ll be feeding them false information.” said Elthrop. “We’ll make it all look legitimate, in view of the threat to your family. You’ll break into certain special rooms and certain computer systems, but in reality, the information you’ll glean will be what we want them to see.”
“Do I have any choice?” said Ray. “I’ve told you I’d rather just go into hiding, if Charlotte can go with me.”
“I’m afraid this is your best option.” said Shields.
“And if they should suspect the information is false?” said Ray.
“Then we will endeavour to transport you and your wife to a secret location as swiftly as possible.” said Shields.
“If only I hadn’t bought that bottle of water.” said Ray.
“They simply used that as an excuse.” said Elthrop. “We knew all along. I’m sorry we weren’t able to get you out of there. Britain severed all diplomatic relations six months after you were imprisoned.”
Ray grew to quite enjoy his new career. The work at the reprocessing plant was not arduous and he received further payments from both MI5 and from his mysterious Thanalian handler, who went only by the name of Keele.
He had been working as a reprocessing supervisor and double agent for a year when Thanalia’s main nuclear enrichment facility blew up, showering radioactive debris over millions of square miles.
The fallout toppled King Akabali and his regime. Not so much the nuclear fallout, of which there was plenty, but the political fallout. Keele was arrested, and sentenced to life in prison for being a spy.
For the first time in a while, Ray felt actually relaxed. So relaxed that when Charlotte suggested they go for a walk along the nearby cliffs, he agreed. During the past year, long walks had only caused him to ruminate unpleasantly.
“Ray,” said Charlotte, as Ray stood above a two-hundred foot drop, admiring the view, “I’m sick of pretending in case there are concealed microphones. Out here we can speak frankly. How are we going to get King Akabali back into power?”
Ray turned around to look at her, confused.
“Why would we want to get King Akabali in power?” he said. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about fighting back against the imperialist Western dogs and returning Thanalia to Akabalism.” she said.
For a moment Ray was to shocked to speak. When he could speak again, he said, “You’re serious.”
“Of course I’m serious.” said Charlotte. “You do still uphold the principles of Akabalism don’t you, Ray?”
“God, no.” said Ray. “I hate Akabalism and the King in particular. I hope he’s dead.”
“Ray!” said Charlotte, her eyes filling with tears. “I thought you were pretending in case the warmongering Western pigs were listening to us.”
“They brainwashed you.” said Ray, almost unable to believe his own words. “All this time, you’ve been pretending to hate Thanalia.”
“They didn’t brainwash me!” said Charlotte. “They explained to me the truth about Akabalism and the underhand actions of the Western capitalists. They gave me drugs that opened my mind and enabled me to see the truth.”
“Charlotte, you need a psychiatrist.” said Ray. “You need to be deprogrammed.”
“They told me if you ever betray King Akabali and his principles, I have to kill you.” said Charlotte.
She was in a state nearing some kind of hysteria, crying and inhaling spasmodically, as if in a panic. She bent down and picked up a large rock.
“You would kill me?” said Ray, horrified.
The prospect of impending death didn’t bother him nearly as much as the idea that his beloved wife, Charlotte, might want to murder him.
“I—I—” stuttered Charlotte.
At that moment a man ran out from behind a bush, screaming.
“He destroyed Thanalia!!” he screamed at Charlotte. “His false information blew up the nuclear enrichment facility!”
It was Iklan, but not like Ray had ever seen him before. This Iklan was far from his typical calm and suave self. His eyes were starting out of his head and his face wore an expression of pure rage.
Suddenly Ray realised he was carrying a large kitchen knife.
“It is time to face justice.” he growled to Ray, and he approached him waving the knife.
Charlotte raised the rock in her hands.
It made a satisfying crack when she brought it down on Iklan’s head.
Iklan fell forwards and plummeted over the cliff edge.
“You see, Ray, you have no real principles, if you’ll excuse me saying so.” said Shields, pacing around as Ray and Elthrop sat watching him pontificate. “You can easily be persuaded of one thing or another. That was your strength. They believed they had successfully brainwashed you, but as soon as you landed back on British soil, well, you discarded everything they’d told you.
“Your wife, on the other hand, she’s a woman of principle. She resisted their brainwashing and they doubtless brought all their most powerful and newest techniques to bear on her. They were able to replace her old principles with new principles, and none of us spotted it. She told herself you were pretending to hate Thanalia, but I believe she probably knew the truth all along, at the back of her mind.”
“She just couldn’t face up to it.” said Elthrop.
“Will she be OK?” asked Ray.
“Oh, yes.” said Shields. “She’s already mostly fine. It’s simply a question of counteracting all the propaganda they fed her under the influence of various drugs. You can see her today, actually, in a few hours. Dr. Pritchard is making enormous progress with her.”
Ray and Charlotte met later on in a meeting room at MI5 headquarters.
“How are you?” said Ray.
“I’m well.” said Charlotte. “Much better. I’ve been so silly, Ray. I believed the things they told me.”
“So did I.” said Ray, earnestly taking her hand. “It’s just that I can believe practically anything, or nothing.”
Charlotte laughed.
“You saved my life.” said Ray.
“Poor Iklan.” said Charlotte.
“He got us into the whole mess in the first place.” said Ray.
“Fair point.” said Charlotte.
“Our anniversary’s coming up.” said Ray. “We should go away somewhere together for a couple of weeks. Maybe …”
“Australia.” said Charlotte.