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Books, Humor, Satire

ONE PERCENT SOLUTION . . . (one page per day) Page 61 of 252

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A satire of dysfunctional politics and economic disparity.  

Chapter VI: Day/Page 61 CONTINUED FROM YESTERDAY. . . .  Sofia recalls hearing that most researchers, after bonding to their new host-body, could access and activate the language center of the brain to understand and speak the native language—sometimes in only a matter of days. Sofia listens carefully to the young woman’s words, searching deep in her mind for meaning; and although at times she thinks she discerns a word here and there after hearing it, she is unable to dredge up any appropriate response. All she can do is shrug to indicate she does not understand the torrent of words being showered on her, and has no way to communicate back. (Wow, do you speak fast. Just sounds like one big endless word.)

Sofia is enchanted by the running patter of the woman’s speech, but two hours have passed since venturing from the shack by the banyan tree and she needs to find a boat. So taking the woman by the hand, she leads her back out to the dirt road. With a stick she draws a picture of a boat in the dirt; points to the boat, then points to herself, then back to the boat again. She gestures towards the ocean and makes with her hand the up and down bobbing movement of a boat on water; points again to herself. (Do you understand? I need a boat. For me—boat for me. You know… something like this that goes up and down on water. Splash, splash… you know, water. Like out there… in the ocean. Big water. Big boat. No, sorry, not big boat—forget that—forget big boat. Just boat… regular boat… for me. Oh, hell… I’m getting nowhere.)

Suddenly a flash of understanding lights up the woman’s eyes. “No!” she says emphatically, shaking her head. “No, you can’t get a boat, if that’s what you want. Are you crazy? Only Ones and Pros have boats.”

Confused, Sofia pulls out a 0.50 gold coin from her chain-mail purse and holds it up, pointing again to the picture of the boat etched on the ground. (Don’t worry, I can pay for the boat, see. Gold for boat.)

The woman straightens and her eyes flash with alarm. “Oh my God, you are crazy! You’ll get us both killed flashing gold around like that. Have you completely lost your mind?” The woman covers the gold piece with her hand, glances around nervously to see if anyone was watching, and hurriedly pulls Sofia back into her dirt-floored hovel.

She vigorously shakes her head and wags her finger at Sofia. “No, No, No. Don’t ever do that again. I don’t know where you’re from, or where you got that coin, but people here will kill you for that in broad daylight. You have to be more careful in City of God.”

Sofia bobs her head up and down—Yes, Yes, Yes. And again makes the movement with her hand of a boat bobbing on water. (Look, I need a boat—a boat that goes on water. And I can pay. Don’t you get it?)

Over the next few minutes the woman excitedly. . .   TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW. . . .

Available on Amazon , Barnes & NobleKobo, and Smashwords in Digital and Paperback versions.

 This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Gregory James    All rights reserved


About Gregory James

After 20 years working and living overseas, I returned to the US and was disgusted by how partisan and polarized the country had become. Civility and compromise are now quaint things of the past, replaced by intolerance and the rule of extremes. So I gave up a lucrative career for staring at blank pages and searching for words, in the hope that words might help enact change. Stupid. . . . I know! But after 9 months of labor I birthed forth a book, entitled ONE PERCENT SOLUTION. Reminiscent of Vonnegut, with a dash of Saramago and Fforde, this humorous, satirical, often irreverent romp mocks the absurd we accept to be normal, ridicules the ridiculously low bar we set, and challenges all of us to demand more of ourselves by making light of what is sacred that shackles us.


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