The Life of Koru, Chapter 28
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Rio! They were in Rio! The city of a thousand ships, thousands of markets selling the rich resources of the province: timber, sugarcane, coffee, koru slaves.
The roads were full with people coming and going, crowds gathering and transactions being made.
Mulo and the gang were utterly spellbound. They were very surprised to be there, but the city was not surprised at all to see them. The people of Rio were used to seeing thousands of slaves passing the streets daily, on their way to be sold and packed into ships.
Mulo had never seen so many Black Lords in the same place. On plantation he used to bow down and kiss the boots of every Black Lord he encountered, but here it seemed almost impossible to kiss so many boots, so he just kept his head down and only glimpsed here and there, because the view was truly fascinating.
The houses were tall and rock solid, unlike the humble mud huts where he used to live. Each house had colorful signs and letters -- it looked interesting, but he didn't know how to read.
It was a hot day.
The pavement was so hot that it burned his bare soles, but after a few steps he got used to it. He saw a few wummses that looked really pretty. He even saw a few Black Ladies. Mulo almost stumbled. Was this Paradise?
"Stop staring around, slave, and keep moving!" Sir Jared said.
Next to him, Miss Faraja agitated a fan in order to feel a little bit of coolness.
"There are several things I want to do in this city!" she said. "First, we get rid of these slaves. Then, I want to go shopping. And finally, I want you to meet my father!"
This time, Sir Jared was the one who almost stumbled. Meeting Governor Hayatudeen was what he called good opportunity.
But then Miss Faraja saw a certain clothing store at the corner of the street and she said:
"You know what? I think we'll start the shopping now! I don't like your uniform! I want you to upgrade it!"
The industries closely related to slave management included several fashion brands that produced stylish and bold uniforms for the overseers, whip manufacturing brands which ironically were nothing but sweatshops where koru workers produced whips for their own backs, and a dog food chain that processed dead koru flesh into dog food. These businesses profited a lot from slavery and their products were always in high demand.
A good whip was definitely more expensive than a sorry ass slave. In fact, an excellent whip could cost as much as one hundred koru. As for overseer uniforms, these were true marvels of craftsmanship. They blended nanomaterials, bioplastics, leather, belts and brass accents in a well-tailored ensemble that never failed to grab the attention. Advanced nanotechnology granted them functions such as self-cleaning, temperature regulation, and shape memory, which were essential for your comfort if you worked as an overseer in Brazil. Your body was basically kept at a nice and cool temperature, while you moved around with ease, surrounded by a light material that felt so unintrusive, yet simultaneously protected you from any harm. These costumes blended practicality and comfort perfectly.
And the name `uniform' was technically wrong, as they didn't have to be all the same. Every overseer was allowed to choose the design elements that suited his personality. Some opted for a simple, down-to-earth design, while others chose a more meticulous and sophisticated outfit. There were uniforms that referenced African traditional costumes and uniforms that looked more futuristic and celestial. And a big component of the uniform was the footwear: long riding boots that were supple and sleek, or shorter, sturdier boots, which were better for ass kicking.
And while Jared experimented with different concept and styles, it was the task of Chief Tariq and Sir Cane to escort the koru to the slave pens which were on the waterfront, quite far from where they were.
Chief Tariq felt resentful for being humiliated in this way. He had to work, while Jared and Faraja had fun shopping. "Fuck Jared!" he thought. Ever since Sir Jared came to the chain gang with his two slaves Peon and Mulo, he had been complaining all the time about the job he had to do. And after meeting Miss Faraja, things had only gotten worse. He started considering himself above anyone else, he bragged about his girlfriend and he very often neglected his work.
And Chief Tariq was a calm man at his age, but he had his limits. That night he opened more than a couple of beers and that demon of his past was unleashed. It was the demon that made him batter and assault, the demon was called Violence. So he entered the slave pen with an iron chain in his hand and said:
"Alright, you pieces of shit, who wants a good beating?"
The slaves were visibly trembling hearing this.
Chief Tariq saw Mulo in the corner and said:
"You, Nail-in-the-head, come here!"
Mulo still had the nickname "Nail-in-the-head", despite having had all the iron nails extracted by Smasher.
"Suh..." Mulo said, very scared.
"Lie on your belly for the beating!"
Mulo obeyed and he was rewarded with a smack, then two, then three, then four...
It was at that point that Peon intervened:
"Suh Chief, don't beat him, please! He be sold tomorrow!"
"Oh, fuck you, you monkey! If you annoy me, I'm gonna send you with your friend to die in the war!"
"Yessuh! Please, suh!" Peon said. "Send me, I'se willin' to go there, suh!"
"You want that, don't you?"
"Yessuh! Please, suh!"
Peon was on his knees begging.
"Shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch!"
Chief Tariq suddenly felt the need to vomit from so much alcohol, so he moved away from the slave pen to find some privacy. He vomited in a random bush that he encountered.
When he looked up, he saw Sir Jared dressed in a new uniform that made him look like the Black Panther, shining, amazing, dynamic and smart.
"Tariq, man, you don't look well! I think you should retire!" Sir Jared said.
"Fuck you, Jared! I'm gonna write a very bad review about you! A very very bad review!"
"Why? Because I went shopping instead of watching over your stupid gang? I don't belong with the chain gang anymore, man! I am as free as a bird!"
"As free as a... BLUAHAHS" Chief Tariq said, while he continued vomiting.
"I don't understand why you didn't vomit in the slave pen! I'm sure they would have loved that!"
Sir Ishmael soared into the sky like a brave falcon. He had never felt so much energy running through his veins. He felt liberated from both his past as a Black activist and his past as the koru slave called Whitey. He had somehow merged these two destinies and was neither of them.
Under him there was a world of suffering and injustice.
He saw a koru pushing a gigantic boulder. It was a visible struggle as the boulder was several times heavier than the worker. He descended from the sky and used his telekinetic powers. The koru was relieved to see the boulder move to the required destination without his effort. He fell on his knees, pressed his nose to the ground and said:
"Suh, who's ye, suh?"
"I am the Checkered Man, I have come to help those who are hungry and live under the whip!"
"Praise ye, suh Checkerman!"