Two years… that’s how long I had been stuck in my prison cell. The entire time I was alone, completely alone. But, today is a great day. A man appeared in the cell next to me. I couldn’t believe, maybe he will be my friend!
With high hopes, I tried striking up a conversation, “Hey man”-my voice was choppy-“How ya doing?” He didn’t respond. But, I had found my old skills at communicating so I continued, “Want to hear about my life! I used to own everything anyone could desire!” He looked at me, a disgruntled appearance. Who cared, so I began:
I will never forget that trip to South America. For the life of me I can’t remember everything, but I remember enough. Hell that was the vacation that gave me everything. My proverbial white whale if you will. My family and I had all been sitting in a restaurant in some God awful country. The mosquitoes were at plague strength, while we stayed in resort. Luckily, the resort employed foggers and created a sanctuary around the hotel. Our parents, oh my parents, they always wanted to see local cultures. That was when the mosquitoes would strike and descend on our supple flesh.
I hadn’t always despised animals. I remember being in South America fresh out of college. I was living the life. The mist from the ocean would coat my freshly tanned skin. Then the breeze would whip past my half naked body and sap the heat away. It was a good time for me. I enjoyed meeting the struggling natives and contemplating how I could help make their lives easier. I was really going to be their savior, delusions of grandeur if you will. Always saying that the moment I found my golden goose, I would make it happen.
As I said, I no longer remember what country we were visiting on that trip. I do remember the small island we ended up visiting. My parents had heard there was a great restaurant and the locals needed some help building houses. Being the helpers they were, they chartered a sea plane to help out the islanders. The island was Goosoomba. It had a small port filled with yachts and a private resort for the rich. I remember despising the rich that stayed at that resort. They sat in gold leaf hotel rooms while the surrounding area died of starvation. Eventually, I bought that island, the surrounding ocean, and another island in the area.
Nevertheless, I am getting ahead of the story. While we were eating at this restaurant the waiter told me and my brother about a fish. It was a tiny fish found on an adjacent island in a freshwater stream. It was thin and tall, covered in black and white stripes, and had piranha like teeth. This little fish was called Momba, this meant “life giver” in the native tongue. Apparently, the fillets were so tasty it was all the natives lived off of. Well we had to get us some. We loved food and wanted to experience the “life giver”. Our parents were adverse to the idea, because we were supposed to build houses. Luckily, they were old and had to go to sleep before us. So me and my older brother sat at the bar and talked about the fish while drinking some beer.
Eventually a man walked up behind us, “I can take you to the island of your desires.” I think that was what he said.
When I turned I was met by a pirate. At least that’s what I thought a pirate should look like. He had an eye patch and a grizzly beard. The beard obscured his face, but I will never forget his cold dark eye. I thought to myself: this dude has seen some shit.
“How do you plan on getting us there?”
“Well young lasses it is a nights journey from here to there.”-I loved that he called us lasses”-I have a boat that can take us there and then we can fish. We’ll be back by dinner time. Are you game?” I remember wishishing he had said Arrr instead of are.
My brother and I looked at each other, and he began writing a note. He was first to jump aboard, “I am in! I want to try this wonderful fish.”
I couldn’t believe how easy of a decision it had been for him. Here I was concerned that the man was a rapist or worse. Perhaps, he was a real pirate and was going to hold us ransom. We were better dressed than the rest of the natives. Not to mention there was the resort just up the hill. He could have taken us for someone rich and planned to kidnap us. There were too many bad things that could happen to us. I couldn’t go through with it.
Just as I was about to object, he spoke, “I know ya young boys are concerned that I may rape ya or perhaps I will hold ya for ransom. Don’t be so concerned, the waiter told me your family is building houses for the locals. Anyone who takes care of the locals can have my help!” I didn’t know it at the time but this man was the Mayor of the two towns.
Just like that he had squashed my fears and the waiter walked up. I had to ask him, “Is this guy legit?” The waiter looked at the grisly man who I would never forget and nodded his head. I had no more qualms, “I am in too.”
My brother handed the note to the waiter, “Please get this to our parents. Tell them we will be back for dinner with the Momba!” A simple nod was all my brother needed.
The voyage to the island wasn’t an issue. By “nights journey” the drunken pirate must have meant two hours. Either way, we had docked at port and switched to a speed boat. Apparently, the fish could only be found up a stream that emptied into the ocean. With the dry season upon us, the stream would barely be flowing. So we would need to go upstream to the deepest spots and fish for our bounty.
The entire time we were traveling the captain of the ship had remained nameless. My brother and I had nicknamed him Cap’n Jack because he was constantly drinking Jack Daniels. That had been the price to get us to the island: a case of whiskey. To think, people say we don’t live in a bartering society anymore.
It was then that I heard the tale that would make me a billionaire, “So boys, do you know why they call this fish the life giver?”
I was curious. My brother was more interested in eating the fish, “Why?
“Simple! Because it can be used for anything your heart desires. Also the fish changes flavor based on what it eats. Some of the locals have done experiments where they feed it bacon. Low and behold the fish turns into a tasty bacon treat.” He let a monstrous laugh out, “But, I found out there is something else about the fish. The oil is special! None of that omega-3 crap. One can take the oil from these little bastards and create fuel! At least that is what these natives say. I am inclined to believe them as this boat is run off those little fishes.” He began laughing again.
“Cap’n Jack-”
I was interrupted, “Boy what did you call me?”
“Cap’n Jack… we didn’t know your name but you apparently you like Jack’s whiskey.”
He laughed again, “Boy me name is Jack! So keep calling me Cap’n Jack, it makes me feel all fluffy inside.” I remember he rubbed his belly in circles.
“Well Cap’n Jack, how many people have you told this story too?”
“Hundreds! None of them believe me. That is a good thing I guess. The little fish can never really get bigger than a hand. So if people started harvesting them it would kill the native’s food source.” He got somber, “Dem natives really do need those fish! I believe the fish is why we have many people living into their late hundreds.”
“How come they never spread off the island?” I had completely missed the fact that he said “late hundreds”.
“They are very social creatures, never really interested in leaving the stream. Actually when you catch one about seven will come up and try to rescue him. It makes them easy to catch, once you get one you get the rest of your meal. Some have been washed into the ocean but they aren’t salt water fish. Lastly, no ships ever came to the island when they were colonizing the area. So there was no cross contamination to other freshwater sources and no one really gives two shits about the island. There is no resort here.”
It had made sense. A lot of invasive species were transported by colonial ships or shipping freighters. The little island had nothing to offer and there was no reason to visit it. So the fish remained a secret to the locals. I was super excited to meet my first little Momba.
“Do you think I could scuba dive before we leave? I saw you have the gear and I hear there are lionfish in the area. I have always wanted to hunt lionfish with a spear gun and have lionfish tacos!”
“Of course laddie! I got the perfect spot for ya to catch some fishies!” I didn’t realize it at the time but the captain was playing along as pirate. I should have noticed it when he dropped knowledge but I was kind of drunk.
It didn’t take us much time to get to the stream on the boat. The crazy captain actually drove the speed boat up the stream and beached it on a sandbar. Seemingly, he did this a lot because the second he beached the boat a ton of locals came down the river to say hello. They loved the guy and even mocked him. He took it in jest. It didn’t take us long to catch our first little bastard. I couldn’t believe it. The second we caught one fish another seven appeared and tried to save him from us. Their sharp teeth snapped at our fingers as we pulled them out of the water.
We caught a few more fish. Then put them in a bucket with water and sealed the lid. We pushed the speed boat back into the stream and took off for the yacht. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to capture the little buggers. We had around thirty. So I had decided to do an experiment of my own. While I was fishing for lionfish I was going to take one in a bag down to the bottom of the ocean. I wanted to see if I could release the fish and it could live in the ocean. It sounded cruel but I had a gut instinct that it would be fine.
After getting to the yacht I threw my scuba gear on and drove into the warm water. I had the little fish with me and he looked frightened. By the time I had reached the reef the bag had slowly compressed and was going to kill the fish. I knew I had to release him but I didn’t want to kill him. I prepared for an emergency ascension. If he started dyeing I would be able to save him. It was ironic because the fish was going to be eaten anyway. Nevertheless, I opened the bag and he floated out. He was on his back and began floating towards the surface. I thought about how horrible it must have been to die that way. I was a little sad. Just as I was about to ascend and save his life, he righted himself and began swimming around. The little bugger was able to live in salt water.
That’s when I got concerned. Since the fish were social perhaps they had a way to call to their friends. Then it hit me. There was a noise I had been avoiding because I thought it was the boat. The only difference was it was getting closer and closer. It sounded like someone was grumbling underwater. After three of these bass tones a large clang would be heard. It was similar to someone hitting a metal pipe with a hammer. I couldn’t get my bearings on the noise so I just kept spinning while floating above the reef. Then I saw it.
It was a Momba, except this one was the size of an early nineties station wagon. The mouth was the size of my body and the fins had evolved. On the tips of the fins were crescent moons of hard bone. I didn’t realize it until later but this was a tool for killing. The fish would spin its body and slash anything in the vicinity. It darted towards me and I pulled up my spear gun. I wasn’t hunting lionfish today. As it closed the gap, I realized I had one chance to kill the beast. I pulled the trigger and the spear found itself in between the monster’s eyes. It didn’t stop moving because of inertia. I tried to move away from the behemoth of an animal but was caught by one of the crescent bones on its fins. It tore through half of my arm.
Screams escaped my mouth as salt water rushed into the gaping wound. The water became murky with my blood. Looking back on it that was probably when I lost my innocence. I grabbed my trophy by the spear and performed an emergency ascension. I got to the top of the water and had lost a lot of blood. Luckily, I had been close to the boat. My brother pulled me onto the boat.
Right before I passed out I pointed at the Momba, “Get my trophy… the village will eat like kings!”
I remember awakening in a witch doctor’s hut. He had sewn me back together and applied a bandage that fought off infections. I was dazed and confused at the time. However, they brought me some of what I had killed at the bottom of the ocean. The large fillet had fed the entire village and tasted like lobster. The little fish had tasted like shrimp. Either way, my family was concerned for my well-being so they cut the trip short.
I was able to take some of the oil from the large fish with me. When I got back to town I met with my friend Erin, she was a chemistry graduate student. I had given her the oil and asked her to look into its properties. I trusted old Cap’n Jack and it paid off.
Two days later she called me, “Sean, the stuff you gave me can be turned into crude oil. Seriously, this stuff is amazing. It can do anything I want it to do. Where did you get this!?”
I never told her where I got it but I did take her with me to the bank. I applied for a multi-million dollar loan. That loan bought me the two islands and the ocean surrounding both. Cap’n Jack had been the person to know. He was actually the mayor of both islands and welcomed the purchase. With the influx of my money we kicked the rich people out of the resort and turned it into a refinery. We built pens in the ocean and began cultivating the fish. We quickly learned that the Momba could grow at alarming rates in the ocean. As long as you kept feeding them, they would keep growing. Eventually, we had fish the size of a semi-trailer. We were feeding the fish full sized cattle that were launched from trebuchets.
Soon, we had enough massive fish to begin the harvesting process. Both islands got to enjoy the fish’s meat that we wouldn’t use for the refining process. This time they tasted like hamburgers. What was left of the fish was ground up and turned into crude oil. At this time the market for crude oil was about three hundred dollars a barrel. In that single harvest we were able to pay off the loan. Over the next ten years we expanded our operation and began selling the artificial crude oil to refineries. No one could believe we had found such a large oil reserve between the two tiny islands.
Eventually, an investigator found our secret. It spread that we had a fish that could be turned into oil. However, it only existed on the two islands I owned. I tried to control the world with my oil and instead they locked me up here. Currently Cap’n Jack is my left hand man and is running our operation.
I looked back at my new friend, “I have been alone for two years. The guards refuse to talk to me. What could you have done to get locked up here with me?”
The other prisoner looked into my eyes, “I killed the president for you. Your friend Cap’n Jack told me he would do everything in his power to rescue me from this hellhole. He said that this country and all the countries in the world were ruled by energy. Since he controlled the natural resource for energy production… he controlled the world.”
“Well that is the Cap for ya. Man may look like a drunken sailor but he does understand the basic mechanics of the economy.” The assassin looked over at me, “You see paper money has to be backed by something. Originally it was gold. But,” I held up a finger and smiled, “eventually gold became insignificant. With the world highly depended on a single source for: energy, plastics, hell even soap has our oil in it. You end up in an auspicious predicament. Why value money off a precious metal that isn’t nearly as precious as oil.”
“I have no idea why our money is backed by gold…”
“It isn’t. You see the only way to buy enough of our oil to satisfy a countries needs took a large amount of capital. That means we trade a renewable resource for the metal that backs all of the world’s currencies.” My face was starting to hurt from smiling so much, “We have the majority of the gold that used to be in Fort Knox. Fun fact… you can buy debt from a country and they have to pay you back with interest.”
“So.”
“Think of it this way. When you get a mortgage the bank owns your home until you pay off your indebted to them. If you can’t pay the mortgage the bank takes your house and sells it. You are stuck holding your dick in your hand.” I began snickering at the lude comment, “Me and my people simple decided to do that to countries. Someone found out our plan and brought me here so I couldn’t complete it.”
“So you failed?”
“It appears so, unless my executives were able to succeed.”
All of a sudden Cap’n Jack appeared in the prison. He was smiling, “Guess who owns the United States?”
I looked up at him, “Us? How did you do it?”
“Simple, we cut oil production to a trickle and bankrupted every major power in the world. Without the ability to produce products they all collapsed on themselves. Then we called upon their loan when they were broke as a joke. Gotta love trading for gold then asking for gold when they try to pay you with their worthless currency.”
“That part of the plan should have happened months ago.”
“I know… the president was threatening military action. We explained we had our own military and were not afraid to go to war. Then I had that man sneak into the White House and kill him.”
“After the Vice President was sworn in he accepted our terms. You are both free to go.” He took a swig from a whiskey bottle and laughed, “Simple economics my good sir! Control the means control the world.” The man stared at us as we laughed with our arms around one another.