The Genesis Illusion

Chapter 4

Tanintharyi Region, Southern Myanmar

U and Ma went about their daily morning chores in their small wood frame stilt-house. A large iron pot full of water boiled above the red glow of the charcoal fire embers burning in the central fire pit. Their three children scurried about providing a moving obstacle course impossible to navigate without occasional gentile collisions. This life is all they had ever known, having grown up in the same village where they now lived.

U's wrinkled skin and small frail-looking body concealed the hidden strength gained from years of life-sustaining toil. His wife, Ma, was also born in the village where her parents still lived only a few houses distant. The children played with each other and the many others that lived in the village. Soon they would be old enough to learn the skills needed to live in their world. U already took his oldest son, just ten years old, with him fishing and tending his crops.

The house of U, like those of his neighbors, had a rusting metal roof built on what appeared to be rickety wooden stilts about fifteen feet above ground level. This kept it above the monsoon floodwaters and off the soggy ground polluted by animal waste. The village comprised two rows of these structures with a wide road down the middle. The sea was only a few hundred yards and down a steep embankment to a shallow beach where the fishing boats waited for the next tide so their captains could float them again.

Every small depression contained standing water even though it hadn't rained for several days. Chickens and pigs dodged vehicles, that passed through, and seemed to be owner-less but they weren't. The earthy-stench from their waste permeated everything, but the villagers didn't notice. This was their normal. In the middle of the central road about half way down the row of stilt-houses, on a raised platform a small temple was the center of village activity. It was open on the sides but the pagoda-like roof was supported by elaborately painted and carved gilded columns. The villagers gladly gave what they could to the monks who led them in their prayers and taught their children about the holy Buddha. This was the only education for their children.

Life was hard for U and his wife but they could provide food for themselves and their children. Sometimes there was even extra so he could trade for other things they needed. He and his neighbors mostly existed without any help or much interference from the far distant government. During the time of the military control, tax collectors would occasionally come. If he had money, he would pay them. But, when he had nothing to give, they would threaten him and his family. A soldier would return another day for the money until he paid his tribute.

U didn't know what they did with the money. For protection, schools and roads? His children did not attend any school. The roads were dirt paths, and he didn't know what they might protect him from. To U the money was a bribe to keep the soldiers from hurting his family.

A group of strangers, maybe eight or ten men walked into their village on the central road. They were all dressed like locals wearing jeans and loose-fitting long-sleeved shirts. When they reached U, who was standing near the temple, one of them said using the local dialect, "Hello, Sir, we are representatives from your new government. We want to tell you about its new health and safety benefits and you're responsibilities as a citizen."

U looked at the leader, puzzled, but curious. The leader handed him a paper he was carrying, but U couldn't read it. He had never learned to read the Myanmar language even though he could recognize a few common words.

The group leader continued, "There will be a meeting in your village temple tomorrow at sunset. You need to come so you can learn about the Arcadia government."

U looked up from the paper he was holding and shrugged his shoulders. This is nothing for me, but maybe I should go to the meeting. I hope they don't want too much from me. All I have right now are extra beets from my farm. These government people are the first I've seen since the military tax collectors came last year.

U nodded and continued on his way to his beached fishing boat. There he mended the nets to prepare for the night's fishing. What happened to the old government? I hope I don't have to pay twice.

~~~

"General, an army platoon is approaching as you predicted," a lieutenant said. "The area is under our control, Sir."

The two soldiers, along with several others, scanned the distant road using binoculars from their vantage point under a tent on the crest of a small sparsely forested hill. Their casual clothes obscured their military affiliation. One man held a mobile phone awaiting instructions to relay to others manning their defensive positions. The tent canopy gratefully shaded the observers from the brutal afternoon sun.

"Good, but be ready to fire the ionization dispersal cannons," the general said. "We also may need the electromagnetic pulse deflectors."

"Everything is ready, Sir."

Two canvas-covered troop transport trucks and a light armored vehicle with a gun turret on top kicked up dust as the convoy motored along the road. They estimated the number of solders in the transports by the size of the trucks. The patrol couldn't have over twenty soldiers. The small number and minimal artillery bolstered confidence they would prevail.

"The people in this area now knew they were citizens of Arcadia. But they don't understand what that means nor are they prepared to defend it against their former government."

"That is understandable. The convoy is close enough. Fire the ionization cannons."

"Only one of the two cannons discharged." The lieutenant reported the partial failure.

"One should be enough. This is a small group. However, I want to know the reason for the malfunction."

The general and the others in the observation post watched as the vehicles continued on the road reaching a point about five hundred yards away and then the convoy stopped. Several of the soldiers got out of the transports and walked around looking confused. The gunner in the armored vehicle opened the turret hatch and looked out, bewildered.

Then the leader standing beside the first transport truck slowly raised his handgun pointed it at his head and fired. He crumpled to the ground lying face down in an expanding pool of dark red blood oozing from his head. The other soldiers circled around the body like curious animals and then returned to the trucks leaving their dead comrade to rot in the tropical sun.

"The convoy is turning around," the lieutenant said. "Why did that soldier kill himself? I thought they wouldn't be aware..."

"He knew the mission had failed," the General said. "And he couldn't face his commander's. We prevented him from following his orders but he was aware."

"Tell headquarters that our defense of the northern frontier was successful. There was only one enemy casualty."