The Replicant, the Mole & the Impostor, Part 4
Part 2—the conclusion—of a duology where a reality event held in a refugee camp on a Greek island unfolds in an utterly unexpected manner. There will be 50 parts. Chapter 6: January.
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After most of the neo-homesteads for the women and children have been finished, the new-building activity shifts to the African and Middle Eastern sections of the camp. Much more metamaterials are needed, although Dewi, Agnetha and Rahman—who take care of the purchasing part of their Kickstarter funds—have been told by Jean-Pierre’s group only to order for the work in the Middle Eastern section. Asking if they were sure—as there’s still plenty of money available—Idrissa and company told them that their AR activities (the moodscape templates in particular) were bringing in sufficient capital to pay for the metamaterials and other construction necessities they needed. On top of that, the metamaterials manufacturer—very much a forward-looking company—was happy to accept their EthiCoins.
“EthiCoins?” Dewi says. “What are they? Another cryptocurrency?”
“Right in one go,” Agnetha says. “It was developed by Idrissa and Nyandeng as the default payment system for their moodscape templates and AR apps.”
“Which make enough money to pay for their metamaterials,” Dewi says, turning to Omar. “Is pride one of the unmentioned motivators here?”
“Most likely,” Omar says, “and isn’t that as it should be?”
“As long as they don’t go into debt,” Dewi says, “as that would open up a whole different can of worms.”
“I think they’re way too smart for that,” Omar says, “but I’ll subtly inquire, anyway. Not that I can remember debt or bad finances ever being mentioned.”
“Memory is not reliable,” Dewi says, “humans filter what goes into long term memory and what is discarded, are open to suggestibility, and often interpret it wrongly the older the memory is, among many other effects.”
“Not me,” Omar says. “I have perfect recall. If I can’t remember it, it hasn’t happened.”
“Really?” Dewi says. “If I remember correctly—pun intended—then eidetic memory is only reported in a small number of children, but not in adults. And photographic memory has never been demonstrated to exist.”
“What can I say?” Omar says. “As far as I know, I remember everything. And they didn’t mention financial trouble. Rather the contrary.”
“It’ll be hard to prove,” Dewi says, “your perfect recall, that is. But I believe that your African friends are in the black—pun definitely not intended. I’m sorry.”
“It won’t be hard to prove,” Omar says. “In June, ask me questions about the past ten months, and compare them with my drone footage. Easy.”
“True,” Dewi says, “I didn’t think of that. But it’s not that important. More important is that you love to be with them, right?”
“I do,” Omar says, “they both bring me back to my roots and give me hope for the future. Africa’s future.”
“Good on you,” Dewi says. “So they’re perfect?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know where that came from,” Dewi says. “Maybe I’m questioning my own confirmation bias. That was embarrassing. Forget I asked.”
Since the African refugees led by Jean-Pierre, Yannick, Idrissa and Nyandeng need no help handling the metamaterials—their practical knowledge of the avant-garde construction elements is probably world leading—only Omar joins them. All the other reality event candidates—except Katja and Olga who help tie the last loose ends together in the women and children section—try to assist the refugees in the Middle Eastern section to the best of their abilities.
While Dewi, Kristel and even Agnetha—her winter outfit sufficiently modest not to evoke outrage with the more conservative Muslims—try to give their best-meant advice on the construction planning side of things, Esteban, Akama and Piotr engage with the few neo-homesteads whose construction has already started. The instructions from AR-space (often updated by Idrissa & Co) are essential as the majority of the metamaterial handlers wear their AR-glasses during the construction.
By now, the trio of Akama, Esteban and Piotr is well known and well established in the voluntary workforce, and mixes easily with the refugee workers. Akama—due to his synesthetic hypersensitivity—is one of the few without the otherworldly gear. He even has crossover overtures when handling a slab of the metamaterials.
“It’s weird,” Akama says as he takes a slab in his bare hands, “it’s not one single color, but a multitude, like touching a rainbow.”
“I don’t envy you,” Piotr says. “I already have trouble concentrating with these glasses on.”
“It can be a boon,” Akama says, “if you know how to handle it. Now this slab tastes like tutti-frutti. It’s really strange stuff.”
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t collapse while people are sleeping under it,” Esteban says. “Weirdness and multi-functionality is one thing, safety another.”
“It seemed strong enough in the neo-homesteads for the women and children,” Akama says.
“Because we decided to double up the amount recommended by the manufacturers,” Piotr reminds him, “to be on the safe side.”
“And here we’re following their guidance?” Esteban says. “What if it’s not strong enough?”
“Outside, an extra layer is easily added,” Piotr says, “while inside, occupiers are recommended to leave one of the interior walls undecorated so that it can be doubled up if required.”
“That’s one way to do it,” Akama says. “Why not double them up from the start?”
“Lack of sufficient metamaterials,” Piotr says. “Otherwise we’d build only half of the neo-homesteads that are planned right now.”
“We’re already depleting their stock?” Esteban says. “A little refugee camp on a small island?”
“It’s an experimental material,” Piotr says, “and they probably didn’t expect this much demand so soon. I hear they’re working overtime to increase production.”
“I hope they can afford the scale-up,” Akama says. “Otherwise our supply might dry up.”
“Crowd-funded,” Piotr says. “I have to give it to Agnetha, who said everything involved with this crazy reality event would get Kickstarted faster than you could say ‘wait-a-minute.’”
“Our queen of cyber- and AR-space,” Esteban says. “She checks everything, including the moodscape that tries to determine if she’s the replicant. It’s a miracle the feedback hasn’t blown her up.”
“She’s tough,” Akama says, “and puts her money where her mouth is. I’m glad she’s part of our group.”
“Agreed,” Esteban says.
“Thirded,” Piotr says, “and look who’s coming over here.”
Seneth and his comrades enter the Middle Eastern workforce. They gently greet their fellow refugees, while studiously ignoring the three reality event candidates. Then—after having been given a few choices of tasks—they go to work setting up the floors, walls, and windows of a neo-homestead.
It’s one of those rare days where it’s really cold—below 0° C—while the skies are clear. Most of the Middle Eastern refugees don’t mind, as they prefer this desert-like cold with its accompanying low humidity to the usual damp, albeit slightly warmer, Greek winter days. Crisp and clear and quite nice, especially if you work to keep warm. It’s one of Piotr’s—also no stranger to cold winters—favorite types of weather.
In the brisk daylight, everybody gets to work, hard and without complaints, including Seneth and his group. They might be less chatty during the regular coffee-and-tea breaks—brought to everybody by people like Hind, Abeer and Ablam—but they work just as hard as everybody else. It doesn’t go unnoticed.
“It’s been more than a month,” Esteban says, “and Seneth and his friends have been working all the time, without any complaints.”
“So far, they seem pretty serious,” Akama says. “Have they really turned around?”
“I don’t know,” Piotr says, “but I still don’t trust them.”
“You and Muslims do not seem to mix well,” Akama says. “Some old hurt in there?”
“I have no problem with honest, hard-working Muslims,” Piotr says, “we have a few of them in the shipyard where I used to work.”
“But still you wouldn’t exactly welcome Seneth and his friends as new hires,” Esteban says. “Why?”
“They’re sneaky,” Piotr says, “they don’t adapt. They want to turn every part of the world where they settle into a Muslim state. Mosques, special Islamic schools, eating only their type of food, sticking to their customs at all cost, and so forth.”
“There are plenty of Islamic migrants that integrate in their new homes,” Esteban says, “and even I would not force a Muslim to eat jamón. Their choice, and then there’s more left for me.”
“I don’t mean those immigrants,” Piotr says, “but those that do not integrate in their new societies at all. Who refuse to learn the local language, who try to stick to their own in separate ghettos, and rather than respecting their new homeland, they feel quite superior about themselves.”
“I’m not so sure if it’s that black-and-white,” Akama says. “Some just need more time to adapt than others. Are you sure Seneth and his friends share those characteristics you just mentioned?”
“They show all the hallmarks,” Piotr says, “including the contempt that fires their superiority complex.”
“You do realize that many of these people have no choice,” Esteban says. “They’re called refugees for a reason. They’re fleeing from wars, from extreme poverty often due to climate change. Things we in the West are at least partially responsible for.”
“I suspect most war refugees try to become normal citizens,” Piotr says. “It’s the economic migrants I distrust. They come to the EU to find a job, or even to just get on the dole, while not adapting to their new country at all. Many of them infiltrators hell-bent on implementing Sharia law.”
“Well, not to put a too fine point to it,” Esteban says, “but only several years ago many people in, say, Denmark, Sweden, the UK before Brexit, Germany, and Holland said the same things about Polish migrant workers.”
“But we mostly proved them wrong,” Piotr says, “and we used most of the money we earned to improve matters in Poland itself, which is now just as civilized as the rest of the EU.”
“True,” Esteban says, “even if the way you appoint judges and the way you treat LGBT+ people still needs work.”
“Remnants of the Soviet occupation that linger,” Piotr says. “But will eventually die out.”
“If that’s so,” Akama says, “then shouldn’t the remnants of Islamic culture fade away, over time, as well?”
“Ideally, they should,” Piotr says, “but for certain people—Seneth and his ilk definitely included—that will never happen. Deep inside, they consider us blasphemers, or even worse, unbelievers. They will only accept us when we repent, and even then only as second-rate people.”
“I’m one of those weak westerners who likes to give people a second chance,” Esteban says, “because I think mutual understanding and cooperation work better in the long term. We’re here until March, at least, so let’s keep an eye on them.”
“Indeed, we’ll see,” Piotr says, ending the argument for now.
Author’s note: by saying “we’re here until March, at least,” Esteban is slightly optimistic—or he may know something we don’t—as February marks the month when the people at large and the specialist are going to vote on who is the replicant (rather than a human), so in case the actual replicant is chosen, the show ends. Right now, remaining candidates for the replicant are—in alphabetic order by first name—Agnetha, Akama, Dewi, Olga, Omar, and Rahman.
Who do you think is the replicant? All my posts are open to comments…😎
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