Drillmington: Cries

Sate looked at his burners. They looked like overgrown roaches ready to crawl in his drawer. He picked up one. He used it to his advantage.

“Do you have the shipment?”

“I do, sir. We’re talking about what you like.”

Sate gave a grin and placed the phones back into his drawer. He looked at a picture of his wife and continued on with the work.

He found seven young women, hands and mouths bound. It took him no time to express his glee. He rubbed his hands together. In the time it took for him to be as clean as possible, he sullied his soul even further.

“Get the merch upstairs and then take them downstairs to the tanks.” His henchmen acknowledged the command. Sate kept rubbing his hands and made plans to be the best person possible in his own mind. He couldn’t continue unless he knew what was part of his own making.

He had to know that he was right even though he snickered acidicly. He looked at his watch. He had but a few hours to take the rest of the women from the trucks before they were followed.

In his mind, it worked like this; he built up enough human capital to spread on the market that would net him enough money to keep his wife in diamonds and furs. She had to have the latest gadgets, too. So, he worked overtime to keep her up on the must-haves.

It was no noble vision. No cancer treatments or to help out his little girl’s college plan. It was all sacrificial and selfless devotion to evil. In almost everything Sate did, he made sure that he was the most vicious and vile human specimen on the planet Earth. Except for when it came to tricking on his wife and by extension aiding his able bodied daughter on her pathway into adulthood.

In all that he could be doing, he chose this route in life for the thrills. He didn’t come from some depressed area without a parent or with only one parent in the house. He was upper middle class. But he had the venom for vices and refused to go the right way.

For his brashness and arrogance, he exhibited a sense that he could have been a CEO. He knew that would mean he would have to play it straight. He was not about to do that. Instead, he found himself only seeing what had been in front of him. Blinders raised to block his vision of what he could be.

In his psyche, he took the time to be his own person. But in reality, he could not understand the truth of being an authentic businessman. He walked past the tanks with water and food like giant gerbil cages. The women rushed to the water and food. They scarfed down fast food burgers and fries.

A bucket sat in the corner. Sate just rubbed his hands. He saw bloody money. The dollars are going to be funneled into his materialistic nonsense rather than he being a surgeon or nuclear physicist and earning his money.

Some of the women just sat in the corner weeping. Sate tapped on the cage.

“Hey, hey! Eat that meal. It could be your last! You need to have your strength up in order to get this money. That’s right. You’ll be making money for me.”

The woman, Jacqueline Post sobbed even louder.

“All your cries will go unheard. At least to the people you’re trying to reach. No one’s coming to save you. There will be no cavalry.”