The Brave New World 27 Henderson Island

The Golden Dawn was tilted at a precarious angle. As Cruz had predicted, the tide had moved the grounded hull. At least it hadn't dragged the ship out into ocean. Not yet, anyway.

One of the yacht's lifeboats was rocking gently on the water next to the ship. It was half-full of supplies already. Susanto felt a great sadness when he thought about all the things that couldn't be salvaged from his yacht.

There was the life-size sculpture of himself, for example. Rafi Susanto cast in white gold, raising a metal arm in a gesture that clearly said: everything I see is mine. The world is my oyster, and I'll eat it live, just like I eat an ordinary oyster. With a few drops of sambal and lemon juice.

The sculpture had provided him with many hours of private delight. It stood in his study on the yacht. It was very valuable, much more valuable than the white gold it had been made from. It was a part of himself. Sadly, it was simply too heavy for a lifeboat.

He stood up, brushed sand from his pants, and turned around.

Cruz was busy supervising the crewmen who were taking items from the cube and depositing them under a big tarpaulin spread between a couple of palm trees nearby. The stockpile had already grown to immense proportions. The cube seemed to contain an endless quantity of items. How was that possible? Magic! Pure magic!

But no. This wasn't magic. It was the wondrous technology developed by humans in the faraway future. It represented great value, enormous value that could yet turn out to be greater than everything he had acquired so far.

Susanto looked away from the stockpile and at the canopy that had been erected on a stretch of beach that had been swept clean of the plastic trash. It had served to shield the yacht's swimming pool from sunlight when it got uncomfortably fierce. Now it protected their campsite.

The whores were all fast asleep on the hiber beds. They hadn't been implanted - yet. He had tried to put them to work on getting items from the cube, but the amount of bitching he'd had to endure made him change his mind.

Not far from the whores, half a dozen of Golden Dawn's crewmen also slept on the silvery mats. Two of them were implanted. They were exploring the New World by daylight.

Susanto had a hard time convincing them to do that. He had to solemnly promise he'd wake them if they began to show signs of distress. He'd also had to promise them a large bonus.

They had been asleep for almost an hour. According to Cruz, an hour of Earth time translated into a lot of hours in the New World. Susanto was really curious of what what they'd tell him once they were awake.

This New World was the biggest business opportunity of his life, he was sure of that. And he knew Gabriel Cruz thought exactly the same. He had to do one of two things, fast.

Kill Gabriel Cruz, or make a pact with him.

Killing Cruz was difficult and impractical. Even if he'd managed that all by himself, without witnesses, a lot of questions would be asked. Cruz was an important man, a powerful man. His disappearance could mean a disappearance for Susanto, a few weeks or months down the line. Plenty of people would blame him for Cruz's demise. He had invited Cruz for the cruise - enough! Killing Cruz was definitely out.

They had to reach an agreement, form a mutually profitable alliance that would be fair to both of them.

This meant that Susanto's cut should be bigger than his partner's. After all, it was he who arranged the cruise. It was his ship, his crew. It was his show. He'd even hired two whores to Cruz's one.

Susanto tilted his head back and looked at the sky. A few feathery white clouds had appeared, very high up. Did that mean an approaching change of weather? He hoped not. The weather was perfect, as perfect as it could get for a group of castaways on an island. It was warm, but not too hot; there was a breeze, but not too strong; the sea was calm.

If it stayed calm, there was a chance help would reach them in time to save both them and the Golden Dawn. Susanto didn't care much about the ship; he'd collect a hefty payout from his insurance company, and build himself a new, bigger, better yacht. But the sculpture! The sculpture!

It wasn't going to be easy to get a replacement. The sculptor who had created it died soon after its completion. To be exact, he'd died two days after Susanto had paid him for his work. It was a generous payment. Susanto had even added a small bonus on top of the agreed fee. He was very pleased with the sculpture.

It was unfortunate its creator had died. But twenty-hour orgies featuring plenty of alcohol and drugs could be dangerous to overweight, middle-aged men with heart problems.

Susanto heard sand squish under the feet of someone approaching him. He drew his eyes away from the sky.

It was Cruz. He looked faintly troubled, maybe because he was looking at the plastic trash strewn on the beach. Susanto put on a smile and said:

"Hey, Gabriel! Que pasa?"

Cruz stopped an arm's length away from Susanto. Still looking at the trash, he said:

"I'm wondering how long it will take us to return to civilization. What's left of it, that is."

"What's left of it? What are you talking about? Gabriel!"

"I think that storm we had might have knocked out the global power grid. If I'm right and it did... I don't even want to imagine the consequences."

"Gabriel." Susanto took the other man's arm and started leading him to the camp. More specifically, he was leading him to the mini-bar set up by his crew. It was obvious Cruz needed a drink, perhaps also a bite to eat, and a blowjob. No problem! Susanto could easily arrange all of that for him.

"We should look at the bright side," he said. "You'll agree that we are standing in front of a unique business opportunity. An enormous opportunity."

"As enormous as those dinosaurs in the New World?"

"Bigger, Gabriel. Much, much bigger. We must talk about that. My scouts will tell me what they'd found. Then we should have a serious discussion about how - "

"I think what I'd like right now is a serious discussion of how to get off this island," Cruz said.

"We'll get off it! Don't worry. Sooner or later, someone from Pitcairn will show up. I told you they come here to gather wood."

"I don't think they'll be gathering any wood in the near future."

"Gabriel! You're so pessimistic. Here, let's have a drink. How about a gimlet? I think there's some ice left. I'll get my barman - oh sorry. I forgot he's, that he's over there finding out things. I'll mix you a drink myself."

"That's very kind of you."

"No problem! No problem. And how about a bite?"

He pointed at the big tray with a transparent cover. Under the cover, a selection of canapes prepared by his chef lay in slight disarray. Susanto frowned as he mixed the drinks. Someone had taken a few of the canapes. They were meant for him and Cruz! No one was allowed to take any, not even the whores. They had their own food rations. He would have to conduct a swift investigation.

He stuck a slice of lime on the brim of the gimlet glass, and handed it to Cruz.

"Let's raise a toast," he said. "To the future of our glorious enterprise!"

Cruz raised his glass, looking doubtful.

"To our future," he said. "Hopefully, we still have one."

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