Dan Dan and the Noodles of Despair

Trumptonia

Three days later the intrepid adventurers draw closer to the dividing river and the border of Trumptonia. From the cover of a nearby forest, they spy the only bridge across the river with its sentry post and traffic barriers. On the far side of the river, the bank is lined with razor wire and heavily armed towers at regular intervals both up and downriver. The six-lane bridge is spanned by an imposing sign stating with the full authority of the custodians:

NO ECONOMIC MIGRANTS, ASYLUM SEEKERS, CONVICTED CRIMINALS, LABOUR UNION MEMBERS, PRACTITIONERS OF NON-APPROVED RELIGIONS, MEMBERS OF RACIAL MINORITIES, DEVIANTS or PERVERTS WILL BE GRANTED TRAVEL PERMITS. DO NOT PROCEED BEYOND THIS POINT.

'Based on your experience in Petrolgraad I think it wise if Dan and I proceed into Trumptonia while you and Floyd stay under cover of the forest.' says Anaximander.

Tiddlepuss paces low to the ground in a decreasing circle, ears back, clearly troubled. After a moment he reluctantly acknowledges, 'you're right of course, we need to keep a low profile, raise as little suspicion as possible.'

'Dan and I will make our way to the bridge and apply for travel permits, an opportunity for transport will present itself. I'm sure.'

Tiddlepuss turns to the old man, 'Anaximander...'

'I know my friend, I will look after the boy,' he says reassuringly.

'He is the key to our future Anaximander, the future of this world is in his hands.'

At the bridge, Anaximander approaches the transit police officer and lodges the paperwork for two travel permits.

'Name, the purpose of your travel, and the duration of your stay!' demands the officer.

'I am Anaximander of Miletus, Astronomer, Philosopher, Scientist and Scholar, I have come to Trumptonia to visit the great library and study your commerce and trade practices.'

How long do you wish to stay?' he barks abruptly.

'Four days will suffice,' replies Anaximander with the voice of calm authority.

'You will have to make do with two days and one night.' replies the officer with the agitated voice of actual authority, 'And who is this?' he continues.

'This is Dan Dan, my apprentice, who will accompany and assist me in my study.'

'You will both exit Trumptonia via this control point by 6pm tomorrow night if you want to avoid a fine and probable imprisonment. These visas cover the central business district only. You will not deviate off the most direct route from here to the central business district. Nor are you permitted to stop in any of the other zones. You will bring these visas with you and surrender them on your departure. They will be inspected for all the appropriate transit stamps and any irregularities...is that clear?'

'Quite clear' replied Anaximander.

'Next?' shouts the officer.

As they cross the bridge on foot and leave the controlled zone, Daniel spots a bus with the driver and passengers milling around a small drinks stand at the side of the road.

'Excuse me sir is this bus going to the central business district?' The bus driver looks at Daniel through the corner of his eyes. When he sees he has his attention, he slowly lifts his eyes to the destination illuminated above the windscreen, CBD in bold letters.

'It would appear so.' he replies.

After purchasing two return tickets Daniel and Anaximander board the bus and find a pair of empty seats. As the bus pulls away, Daniel's stare is drawn to the scenery passing their window. Dilapidated houses, rubbish in the streets, people standing around doing nothing, dogs running at the side of the bus and burned-out vehicles littering the side streets. Everything about the place screams poverty and neglect with no assistance of any kind.

Turning to Anaximander, he exclaims, 'This is not at all what I expected, you spoke of a great library and architectural beauty.'

'Just wait my boy, we spoke of the bright side of the moon, there is a dark side that most people forget about.'

After a few hours of travel through a weary landscape of neglect and marginalisation, the bus approaches a high wall. It stops at a heavily fortified metal gate. Above the entrance is a huge sign proclaiming WE DREAM OF A BLUE FUTURE and POLICY IS SAFE WITH THE CUSTODIANS.

A guard climbs aboard the bus and shouts 'Visas' in an abrupt and impatient tone. All onboard hold out their travel visas and the guard walks down the centre of the bus with an automatic stamp machine. Inspecting and stamping each visa, he works his way to the back of the vehicle.

With the guard leaving the bus, it crawls forward into a holding cage. Soldiers on overhead walkways train their weapons on the bus as a rolling gate closes behind them. Clanking loudly shut, a siren sounds and a bank of lights change from red to green. The gate in the wall screechingly and deliberately opens as the bus slowly advances through to the other side of the wall.

Daniel blinks with surprise at the sight that greets him, golden wheat stretching into the distance, a fertile country with no sign of the poverty on the other side of the wall. They continue their journey through fields of beans and potatoes, passing farm after farm, through orchards and vineyards and lakes of farmed fish. It's obvious the production of this incredible enterprise travels in the same direction as their bus, and very little makes it to the people they are now driving away from.

After a few hours of travel through the sun-drenched beauty of the zone, they come to the next control point. Above the gate in the wall is another bold sign stating THE CUSTODIANS ORGANISE SOCIETY TO PROTECT THE POLICY and THE BENEFITS OF THE POLICY TRICKLE DOWN TO THE PEOPLE.

The same process is repeated, more heavily armed guards, visas stamped, sirens and gates. Passing through the wall, they are greeted with a markedly different scene again. A modern suburban landscape, neat shops and houses, clean cars on the roads, the back and forth and the to and fro of everyday city life playing out on the other side of the bus window. Daniel and Anaximander exchange glances, Daniel's one of questioning, Anaximander's one of disappointed confirmation.

After several more hours of travel, many stops along the way, and much fewer passengers on the bus, they reach yet another high wall. The same style of gate and a similar sign as before saying THE CUSTODIANS LIVE THE POLICY. Another guard, another stamp in their visa and another zone on the other side of the wall.

This time the landscape is one of considerable wealth. Regal and aged trees in manicured parks with opulent mansions. Shining chauffeured cars with tinted glass windows speeding along wide-open highways. Pinnacled towers of glass and chrome surrounded by lakes of sparkling water. The entire zone filled with healthy people immaculately dressed sitting in cafes and restaurants chatting and smiling. Daniel is beginning to understand the degree of segregation in operation here. He starts to question in his own mind what they will find in the central business district.

Eventually, as the day is drawing to a close, they approach yet another wall, but this is a wall of verdant trees swaying gently in the afternoon breeze. The bus stops, another guard, visas are stamped yet again, but what Daniel can't help but notice is that they are the only vehicle that has been stopped. The people who live in this zone are free to enter and leave the next, the central business district, at will. There is no control point for them. The wall is merely decorative, a majestic avenue of stately trees about a hundred meters deep.

The bus simply drives ahead through this man-made forest. Emerging from the canopy Anaximander and Dan are greeted by a spectacular cityscape bathed in the purple and orange of the setting sun. The bus proceeds through the central zone as Daniel stares in wonder through the now grimy window, the setting sun highlighting the buildup of dirt streaking down its surface. This city is markedly different from Petrolgraad. Beautiful stately buildings form ornate piazzas amid wide avenues of trees. Parks with fountains reaching high in the air. A physical embodiment of order and privilege arranged into an immutable vista of splendid permanence.

Leaving the bus at the central bus station Daniel and Anaximander are two of the remaining five people on the bus. After seeking directions from the driver, they make their way to a nearby guest house. After checking into the small back street lodgings, they make their way to the grand library to make use of the little time they have left.

'If I am correct, it will not take long to find the location of the blue key.' says Anaximander. 'Retrieving it tomorrow could be a different matter altogether. We must be swift and decisive if we are to succeed.'