The Brave New World
/ The Brave New World 78 Living on an Island
Susanto stayed on the cliff for a long time, watching the boat through the binoculars. A couple of times he saw Cruz turn around and raise his binoculars to his eyes and look back. They waved at each other, and Susanto thought he could see Cruz grin. The boat kept getting smaller and smaller, and soon enough it wasn't possible to tell Cruz apart from the crew, and the sun was more than halfway to its resting place beyond the water.
It was time to go back to the camp. It didn't take long, since they cut across the island instead of following the shore. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky; insects buzzed and chirped and hissed; the plant life rustled mysteriously.
As he walked, Susanto fell into a near-mystical state. He saw himself as a human speck moving across a speck of land lost in an enormous ocean. And he wasn't even human, most of him! Those clever scientists in their white coats had established, beyond any doubt, that 52% of the cells existing in a human body were property of various microorganisms that were pleased to call that body their home. More than half the cells inside anyone belonged to someone else! What was more, changes in the body's guest population were responsible for most of the illnesses that affected its human host.
Rafi Susanto was a man with feet firmly on the ground but right then, as those practical feet of his trod on the wilderness of Henderson Island, he felt elevated beyond his normal state of consciousness. Could it have been caused by his rare emotional state? He'd felt longing when he was looking at Cruz sail away into the ocean.
As a rule, he didn't long after or for anything or anyone, including money, which was the only thing he loved. He was a genius, and he was just six years old when he discovered the basic rule governing human relationships: whoever cared less had more power. Subsequently, he'd never allowed himself to become crazed by money, like people who came close to orgasm when they saw their investments had paid a record profit.
He who cared less had the power. Susanto smacked money around like some bitch that had displeased him, and money obeyed him: it came crawling to his feet, licking its nose and begging for forgiveness that it had been away for so long. Of course, all of his money smacks were strategic smacks, administered with the right force, at the right time, and in the right place. Wasn't timing everything? Everything and everyone had a time of birth, and a time to die; a time to flourish, and a time to wither.
They got back to the camp just as the sky was turning red, right on time for dinner. It consisted of grilled fish and coconut kernels. As Susanto ate, he thought: so this is what my life has come to. All that effort and struggle, everything I did, thought, dreamed - to end up on an island in the middle of nowhere, grateful just to be alive, to be able to eat, drink, fuck...
No, not fuck. The whores' makeup supplies had ran out, and the life of castaways clearly didn't agree with them. When he thought of fucking one of them, his dick tried to disappear into his body. Without makeup, without their fancy leather and latex and lace, they looked exactly who they were: a bunch of empty, soulless women whose lack of morals and skill at sex had made them temporarily successful in the money-making game.
He thought about the tears he saw on the faces of the two whores that had been fucking Cruz. He was sure they had been crying not because they'd been intimate with Cruz and felt sad to see him go; they had been crying because his departure made them feel lonely and helpless. People didn't cry because of the pity they felt for other people. People always cried because of the pity they felt for themselves.
This last thought made Susanto aware he had been guilty of pitying himself. He recoiled at that thought. He firmly believed self-pity a mark of cowardice, and a total waste of time. Worse, self-pity destroyed lives. He'd known many talented guys that allowed their lives to be sucked down the vortex of self-pity. He wasn't going to go there. He was Rafi Susanto, a multimillionaire on his way to become a billionaire.
That was when he knew he would have to make another trip to the New World. He was scared shitless when he thought about it, and that was exactly why he had to do it. The New World had made him feel helpless and afraid, the two emotions that he hated most. He was Rafi Susanto! A conqueror! A winner!
Besides, he really wanted to check out the timon thing. If what Cruz had said was true, the part of the New World they had accessed was rich in timon. Susanto had no doubt timon would become the most valuable commodity ever, beating gold or diamonds hands down. Forget about being a billionaire: he would become an instant trillionaire once he secured a supply of timon! He had to see with his own eyes what Cruz had seen: a cave whose walls were composed entirely of timon. Or something. A beach of timon sand would work, too.
That was it; it was decided. Susanto narrowed his eyes and scanned the company before him, evaluating each person in turn.
He'd leave James behind to wake him up - James was the only person he really trusted in that lot. And he would take along just a single companion: more people attracted more attention. He would go off and implant himself somewhere else, too. The cave Cruz had discovered was located near the original replication point, but fuck that: there was no way Susanto was going to deal again with those giant mosquitoes.
Whom should he take along? It had to be someone expendable, someone he could throw to the dinosaurs if the need arose. The crewmen of the Golden Dawn were experienced, but definitely not expendable: they were freaked out enough as it was by their previous visits to the New World. He needed them to remain stable and reliable while they all awaited their rescue from Henderson Island.
That left the whores: a most unsuitable choice. But was it, really? After all, what or rather whom he needed was someone to sacrifice if the necessity arose. The whores were definitely expendable. They could freak out all they liked afterwards. And it would be kinda fun to see their silicone tits bounce as they ran screaming from a man-eating dinosaur.
Which one to take? Candy! That was the right choice. She was the second of the two whores Susanto had taken along to cater to his sexual needs. She was physically fit, more so than the remaining three whores. And she had gagged while sucking his balls on New Year's Eve while Estella, his other whore, took care of his dick. Susanto really resented that.
He had taken extra care while shaving his scrotum before the frolics, a very difficult and dangerous exercise that took over an hour. He'd also perfumed his gear with five different colognes and aftershaves, distributing the various scents as appropriate. Estella had been ecstatic: she'd said sucking his cock was like drinking a field of flowers. And Candy had gagged! Of course she tried to cover it up with a cough and then continued, being a professional, but it still rankled.
Yes, it would be Candy. Tomorrow they would take an implant kit and hiber bed each and go to the western shore, with James along as their caretaker. Of course everyone would think he was motivated by a fancy of having sex with Candy in the New World. Maybe he would, at that, if no dinosaurs were sniffing at his asshole, and he'd found what he was looking for.
If he managed to secure a supply of timon, he'd become the richest man in the world in no time at all. And that was what he wanted above everything else.
He looked at Candy and kept looking until she stopped chewing and looked back: their eyes met. She smiled at him. A small white sliver of fish flesh was stuck near the corner of her lips.
He smiled back.
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