Authors: Scott Spotson
“Yes? Regi said, his hands clasped in front of him, eager.
“I found mine on my kitchen table in my house,” Professor Scully said, holding up a device that looked like a smartphone. “I surmised this came to me by the way of magic. And I’ve discovered many interfaces that never appeared before. One by the hydro meter at my house. One by the community center close to the front door. Even one near the hot water tank.” He shook his head. “This is an amazing feat of magic. I don’t know how you do it all, in millions of homes and offices.”
“We’re amazing,” Demus boasted.
“I’ve started using it,” the professor said, shaking his head. “It’s truly revolutionary. I see that I start with two thousand bitcoins a day. It’s hard to get used to it. The values don’t always correspond with what we see every day, like for example, I just turn on the water and use it to wash my dishes or whatever.”
“It’s designed to measure exact cost, in terms of value, and gets rid of ineffective pricing of opportunity cost.”
The professor’s eyes widened. “Yes, opportunity cost. We’ve never found a way to measure it. Not even close. But this…” He shook his head in amazement. “This is a most critical breakthrough, if it works. You’re capturing millions of economic decisions made every day, from households to factories.”
“Exactly.”
“When doing my laundry last night, I found out it’d cost me 3.45 bitcoins to do one regular load. When I turned the dial to do a larger load, it increased to 3.76 bitcoins. Right away I knew I was using up more resources and it’s made me extremely conscious of what I do.”
The wizards all sat quietly, eagerly hearing the consumer’s perspective of how their experiment was working.
“I found out that I had three hundred ninety-two bitcoins left at the end of the day, so I decided to donate them to my local hospital, which is treating my mother-in-law for Alzheimer’s. The hospital had hired a new greeter, someone who comes out of the door to thank donors of bitcoins. She was so grateful, and gave me a flyer to promote their hospital as a worthy cause.”
“You can save the bitcoins, sir,” Regi advised. “You can carry them over to the next day. This encourages saving.”
The professor thought some more. “How much more time do I have left?”
Justica answered, “As long as you like. We decide if this Petition is adding value.” All the wizards nodded.
Amanda intervened, “Actually, we have a lot more Petitioners awaiting their turn. So we do have to move on.”
“Just one more question,” Professor Scully said, leaning forward into the screen.
“Yes, Professor.”
“So this bitcoin revolution is the same all over the world? You’ve introduced this device in every household in China, Europe, and Australia?”
“Yes,” Regi said. “The world’s now operating on one common currency, so to speak. The same economic system. All old tariffs and barriers will now fall, invigorating the world economy.”
“Time’s up soon,” Amanda prodded.
“Just wait, just wait,” the professor said, holding up one hand and glancing down at his desk. “One thing that affects me personally. My salary at the University of Toronto. I know how to spend my bitcoins, but I don’t know how to earn them. Does the university still pay me anything? What about my pension? What about my benefits?”
“Yes, definitely,” Regi said. “Your employer can collect all its bitcoins from students who still want to pay for its most valuable and enriching education. As well as from parents and entrepreneurs who find themselves with more bitcoins than they need. Then your employer will decide how much you’re worth to keep going to the classroom to install value into these students’ young minds.”
The professor emitted an ominous chuckle. “They may very well decide I’m an old fogey and decide I’m not really worth very much after all.”
Justica softly remarked. “With your incredible brain, Professor, I’m certain you’ll obtain tremendous value for your contribution towards society’s ideals.”
“I hope so.”
Amanda hastily glanced at the papers in front of her. “Goodbye and thank you, Professor Scully. Next is Gary Feldman, President of the American Federation of Government Employees.”
The next image was that of a bespectacled man with brown hair. Blinking his eyes at his turn, he confidently spoke, “Our Supreme Liaison just introduced me, so I don’t need to reintroduce myself. But our union’s one of the largest in the United States, and we represent federal government employees and private sector employees. We’re affiliated with the American Federation of Labor and the Congress of Industrial Organizations.”
“Welcome, sir,” Indie said pleasantly.
Feldman adopted a harsh tone. “I’m not sure I feel welcome. Our employees, all hard-working people feeding families, are under attack by your right-wing junta.”
Indie maintained her composure. “Why’d you think that?”
“We heard the other day how the person you have appointed as Supreme Liaison, Amanda Fullerton, praised a truly despicable person, one whose ideas have long been disproved – Ayn Rand. Moreover, from your applause and support, it seems you concur with Ms. Fullerton’s ideas.”
Demus spoke out. “We’ve absolutely no pre-conceived ideas about any learned scholar from the past or as of today.”
“And your endorsement just now of Milton Friedman, a man who was directly responsible for millions of jobs lost and severe economic hardship.”
“Do you have a question?” Indie asked politely.
“Yes. The question’s for Regi, who seems to have taken control of our money supply, or what’s left of it.”
“On the hot seat again,” Regi said cheerfully.
“I should’ve taken your position,” Demus growled.
“Too late, Demus,” Regi said teasingly. “Yes, go ahead.”
“The question is,” Feldman said, “with the millions of layoffs now affecting government workers, a loss in transfer value of billions of dollars, how do you propose that our people get paid? How will they feed their families? Many federal agencies have told us that they’re running out of funds because of your illegal seizure of the money supply.”
“I feel your pain,” Regi sincerely said. He held up his tab, and pointed at it. “As we’ve explained, you all have value to contribute. We’ve ensured that every human gets a minimum of two thousand bitcoins a day, which is fantastic for those of your people who may’ve lost their jobs as a result of successive governments’ failed economic policies.”
“That many bitcoins a day isn’t nearly enough,” grumbled the labor leader, “Several of our members have said they’re at sustenance levels for the first time ever and that they can’t keep up their homes.”
“You all have value to contribute, as a public good that can be traded,” Regi replied firmly, “You all have valuable experience enhancing the welfare of your citizens. Use it.”
Feldman laughed derisively. “That may very well be – and yes, we do contribute a lot of good – but that’s what governments are for. To organize the public resources and distribute to society.”
“Wait a minute,” Indie spoke out.
Feldman ignored her, “But try telling the public that they should contribute their valuable bitcoins to a government employee who examines effluent levels for raw sewage emitted by major factories. They just don’t know about valuable roles like that.”
“To have government is to have taxes,” Indie asserted, “and taxes are evil.”
The labor leader appeared shocked. “Well, well. Here we have a real confession. Now we know what kind of thuggery you’re promoting.”
“This feels like Debate Day now,” Justica said, a bit worried.
“I’m happy to address this issue,” Indie retorted. Turning her attention back to the screen, she said, “Our philosophy’s based upon how everyone contributes value, and how we’re free from one another. Free to achieve our potential.”
“Government sets the rules and prevents greed,” Feldman interjected.
“So, that environmental monitor you were speaking of, he or she has to justify that this job contributes value.”
“That job has already been justified!”
Amanda stepped in. “We can’t have people talking over one another. We need to take turns. Agreed?” Her voice was shaking slightly. “I’ll also make sure people don’t speak too long.”
“Thank you, Amanda,” Indie acknowledged. “As I was saying and I quote Adam Smith,
‘It is the highest impertinence and presumption, therefore, in kings and ministers to pretend to watch over the economy of private people, and to restrain their expense. They are themselves always, and without any exception, the greatest spendthrifts in the society.’
”
“I understand the Liberators love quotes,” replied Feldman, “so I brought my own. It’s attributed to one of our greatest presidents, Abraham Lincoln, and it says as follows:
‘Democracy is direct self-government, over all the people, for all the people, by all the people.’
”
“I know what point you’re trying to make,” Demus said, “And surely you agree that, since you’re here addressing millions of people, this is direct democracy at its best?”
“The divine right of kings,” Feldman said, shaking his head. “They think they’re above the law.”
“Well, I disagree,” Indie said.
“The four kings,” Feldman said with a sneer, “The four philosopher kings.”
Indie started to point her finger at the labor leader, but Amanda quickly intruded. “I think we need to take a break.”
“Agreed,” Justica said.
“By the way,” Feldman shrugged, “the main proponent behind the divine right of kings was Jean Bodin. Just thought you might like to know.”
Amanda started to push the button. “Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Feldman. We’ll all take a fifteen minute break and get back to the next Petitioner.”
The screens went blank.
Regi sighed, “Well, that was something.” He glanced down. The three other wizards, and the Supreme Liaison, looked at him.
“Everyone hates us,” he said.
Chapter Twelve
Demus spoke confidently into the screen, perched upon a marble floor firmly ensconced about one mile up into the sky over North America. “Get ready for another rough-and-tumble, no-holds-barred, bloody sports day.” He comically raised his eyebrows. “No, no. I’m not talking about yesterday’s Petition Day.” The other wizards laughed, and even Amanda chuckled. “No. Today is another Games Day, and you’re in for a treat. Today’s Duel Day.”
“Oh boy!” Indie cried out.
“What is Duel Day?” Regi playfully queried to Demus for the benefit of millions of Mortals, himself fully knowing the answer. The two jovial young men had set themselves up as a television-friendly tag team.
“Why, Regi,” Demus enunciated a tad too perfectly, more speaking to the camera than to his comrade, “Duel Day’s where we wizards challenge each other in one-on-one battle. Fully clean, of course. We have different Levels of battle. Level One is combat using basic magic tricks. Using magic above Level One is a no-no and after three fouls, you automatically forfeit the match. The winner of each game goes on to challenge the other winner of the next match. It goes on and on until there’s one winner.”
“Just like a tennis round robin,” Regi said out loud.
Demus finished off. “That’s right. Level Four’s the most advanced stage of magic and is unlimited. There’s no limit to what you can do with your imagination.”
“How do you know what tricks are covered by Level One?” Amanda asked, knowing fully well the cameras were trained on her and her face would yet again appear before millions of Mortals.
She was starting to love her job, although it proved to be very hectic, dealing with thousands of people seeking a connection through to the wizards. In her sparkling new office, she’d be dealing with the Chairman of the Federal Reserve Board, and in the next five minutes, with the President of the Sindicato Nacional de Trabajadores de Educación (Mexico’s National Union of Education Workers). To be sure, about ninety percent of the respondents were still opposed to the Liberators’ claim to power, but they were playing their bets for now. They just didn’t want to end up on the “wrong side of history.”
“Wizards know,” Regi said. “Based upon experience.” He thought some more, trying to conceptualize when he intimately knew. It was like someone who had skied for years, starting instinctively as a child, trying to teach someone how to ski. “Well,” he said, “for example, in Level One, you’re basically alone. You can’t conjure up dragons or anything to help you. That’s only for Level Three or above.”
“Dragons?” Amanda asked, full of intrigue. “Don’t you get hurt?”
Regi laughed. “Yes, if you sprain yourself. But not from the magic itself. There’s always a force field surrounding you during the duel.”
“So wizards can never die?” Amanda asked, before mentally kicking herself for asking a very personal question in front of millions of viewers.
Regi seemed taken aback. “No. Wizards can never die during the games.”
Amanda became aware of the dozens of huge screens surrounding them, as well as the alert eyes of dozens of wizards watching the foursome. She shook off her thoughts. “Thank you so much, Regi. I’d love to watch the duels.”
Regi took a mock bow. “You pick the match-up, comrade.”
Amanda hesitated. “Um. You – and…” She looked around. “Justica.”
The wizards all groaned. “Oh, boy, Justica’s gonna whip him,” said Demus, grinning.
Amanda gazed at Regi. “Is she that good?”
Regi nodded calmly. “She’s one of the better ones.”
“First round,” Demus shouted out. “Regi versus Justica. Step up.”
Both Regi and Justica materialized in the middle of the challenge field, onto the marble floor. They were standing stiffly, one foot apart, facing each other. They took two steps backwards, and then bowed at the same time.
“Level One setting,” Demus said, “Indie will be the referee until Amanda learns the ropes.”
Regi disappeared, and instantly appeared five feet to his left. But Justica was ready. She conjured up a blast of fire into the direction where she anticipated Regi would appear. She was dead on. As soon as Regi appeared, a ball of fire surrounded his head. But he was unhurt.