Friday, October 6, 2023

Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch2

 (Landing page with info and list of sample chapters)


Chapter 2

The week passed quickly—much too quickly. The boys mostly avoided each other, and when they were together, they talked very little. They didn’t want to talk about the Templarios, but that weighed so heavily on their minds that they couldn’t think of anything else to talk about.

The call came on Thursday morning, one week to the hour since the abandoned heist.

“Hello?”

“Nicolas, have you made your decision?”

“My friends don’t have to join, and you will leave them alone so long as I join?”

“You have my word.”

Nicolas exhaled. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“An excellent decision. Please, go outside.”

Nicolas frowned. “You mean my front yard?”

“Yes.”

Puzzled, Nicolas strode through the front room and opened the door. He stepped onto the small porch, paused to look around, then closed the door and walked to the middle of the yard.

The Mercedes SUV drove in front of his house and stopped. A Vespa scooter stopped directly behind it. He recognized the driver of the scooter as one of the goons with Luis that day—he parked the scooter and stepped off.

Nicolas glanced around guiltily. He was glad his family were all elsewhere that morning. His younger sister, Inés, was participating in a cultural activity, and the rest of the family had gone together to watch. Nicolas got out of attending by feigning a stomachache.

The window on the rear door of the SUV rolled down, exposing Luis’ beaming face.

“What do you want?” Nicolas asked warily.

“Just bringing you a gift.”

The thug who had driven the scooter held out his closed hand. Nicolas stared at his hand but didn’t move.

“Here you go.” The thug extended his hand closer to Nicolas.

“What is it?” Nicolas leaned back uncertainly.

“Key to your scooter.”

Nicolas stared blankly at the thug.

“You need your own transportation,” Luis explained.

The thug grabbed Nicolas’s hand, turned it palm up and dropped the key. He closed Nicolas’s fingers around the key and released his hand. Scowling and shaking his head, he opened the passenger door and entered the SUV.

“Be in Ixtapa before noon, Saturday,” Luis directed. “I will call you with your assignment then.”

“What am I supposed to tell my parents about this?” Nicolas gestured toward the scooter.

“Tell them whatever you wish. Tell them it is a gift from a friend.” Luis continued to smile at Nicolas as the tinted window closed. The SUV drove away, leaving Nicolas standing alone in his yard.

Nicolas frowned. They knew where he lived. How did they know? How much did they know about him? About his family? His parents wouldn’t approve of his decision. He was planning to keep it a secret—at least for now. But if they were just going to show up whenever they felt like it …

His phone rang, pulling him from his thoughts.

Hola.”

“Hey, it’s Oscar.”

“Hey, Oscar, what’s up?”

“Have you heard anything yet?”

“Yeah.” Nicolas looked around guiltily, fearing someone might be eavesdropping on the conversation. “They just left a few minutes ago.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What did you say?” Oscar’s voice was tinged with impatience.

“I said yes.”

Oscar whistled softly. “For all of us?”

“No, just me. I can’t make a decision like that for the rest of you.”

“I told you I got your back.”

“Yeah, I know. But still.” Nicolas shifted nervously. “You wanna go for a ride?”

“A ride?” Oscar sounded puzzled.

“You home?” Nicolas climbed on the scooter.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in a couple hours.” Nicolas ended the call and started the scooter.

The drive from Ixlayotla to Ixtapa was thrilling. Nicolas had been on a motorcycle once before, with his father. His father had taught him how to drive it. The scooter was similar enough, and he quickly grew comfortable with its controls and handling.

Nicolas drove faster than was prudent on the winding dirt road leading out of the mountains and to the paved two-lane road, which followed the shoreline south and east to Ixtapa.

He thrilled to the rush of the wind in his face and blurred scenery rushing by. Rather than reduce his speed, he cut the corners on the tight bends. Halfway through one particularly sharp turn, he came face to face with an oncoming car. He swung right, narrowly missing clipping the car’s fender. He was pretty sure that, had there not been a windshield between him and the driver of the car, he could have leaned over and kissed the terrified woman on the cheek.

The tires of the scooter skidded on the dirt road as Nicolas swerved to the left just beyond the car, to avoid flying off the road and down into the ravine on the right-hand side.

As he regained control of the scooter, he noticed the slight adrenaline tremble in his hands. Laughing, he opened the throttle wide again.

The dirt road wound out of the mountains and on to the flat strip of land between the mountains and the ocean. It ended roughly three kilometers from the coast, dumping onto the paved road that followed the coastline. He covered the distance in just barely over an hour, ten minutes or so faster than his family had ever driven it.

A little less than an hour to go. Nicolas grinned; maybe a lot less.

The scenery along the road was drab and dreary, consisting mostly of dry, yellow grasses and small scrubby brush with intermittent clusters of feeble-looking deciduous trees, or lines of sickly palm trees. Occasionally, the drabness of the natural landscape was interrupted by a dilapidated building, accented by crumbling stone and random graffiti.

Nicolas despised this road. He despised the small town he lived in. It was only lush and green for a few brief months, during the rainy season. The rest of the time it was dry and barren, a miserable, boring wasteland.

He despised the slow, boring life in the town. The relatively small number of students in his school and their backward, country-bumpkin way of doing things. He longed for the excitement and energy of the big city––that and the many luxuries available there: the beaches, the swimming pools, the dazzling array of restaurants and clubs, the sophisticated people, the lights, and the energy. Oh, how he longed for that. He sighed as he continued along the road, impatiently racing around an old rusty automobile making its way southward. He stared disdainfully at the old man inside, barely able to see over the steering wheel. Why was that old fool still allowed to drive? He was a hazard, puttering along so slowly.

Nicolas shook his head and sped on. As he approached the city of Pantla, he slowed. Only a few kilometers more to Ixtapa. There were more cars on the road, and he was more likely to run into policía. Technically, he was still on a limited driving permit for one more year. Best not to draw attention.

Minutes later, Nicolas arrived at Oscar’s house on the outskirts of Ixtapa. Oscar was outside, sitting on a chair in the shade of the small porch. Nicolas pulled up in front of the house and Oscar jumped up, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. He crept toward the street as Nicolas stopped, then cut the engine.

“What do you think?” Nicolas glanced from Oscar to the scooter, then back to Oscar.

Oscar scowled. “Where did you get that?”

“From the Templarios.”

Oscar stared at the scooter in disbelief, examining every inch.

“They just gave it to you?”

“Yeah, said I needed a way to commute to Ixtapa.”

“You haven’t even started working yet and they gave you a scooter?”

“Yeah.” Nicolas responded with a single nod. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“Sure.” Oscar shrugged noncommittally, but his eyes glimmered with eager anticipation.

The two boys drove to the pier, and then south on a road that followed the ocean, winding through a lush canopy of trees, finally stopping in a small parking lot next to a heavily forested area.

Hiking a winding trail, they dropped through the forest to a secluded beach. It was a narrow strip of sand, bordered on either side by rocky structures which rose from the ocean and disappeared into the heavy green growth of the forest. The whole of the beach was shaded by a thick canopy of trees. The area was void of activity, save for two young families playing with their children near the lapping waves.

“When do you start working for them?” Oscar queried as the two strolled through the sand down to the water’s edge.

“Next weekend.”

“Just weekends then. He’s not gonna make you drop school?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What’s he gonna make you do?”

Nicolas shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Smuggle drugs?”

“Probably not.” Nicolas squinted. “I mean, we’re too far from the border, right?”

 “Yeah, I guess so.” Oscar frowned, then his eyes lit up. “Do the Templarios have a drug farm near your place? Maybe he’s gonna have you bring product to Ixtapa.”

“On a scooter?” Nicolas looked skeptically at Oscar.

“Oh, yeah.” Oscar’s eyes fell. “Well, shoot. What else could they have you doing?”

“No idea.”

The two stared silently at the ocean for a moment.

“Okay.” Oscar finally broke the silence. “What time do we start?”

“We?”

“Yeah, we. I can’t have your back if I’m not there.”

Nicolas grinned. “It’s just me next weekend, let me find out what’s going on before I drag us both into it.”

“Well,” Oscar dragged the word out, “okay, but try and keep your cool. I know how you tend to fall apart under pressure.”

Nicolas snorted and playfully punched Oscar in the arm. Oscar snickered.

Nicolas grew somber as he stared out at the water again.

“Why?”

Nicolas turned an uncertain gaze to Oscar.

“Why didn’t they just … you know …” Nicolas drew a finger across his throat.

Oscar rubbed his chin.

“You’re pretty smart, Nicolas. Look at the way you handled last weekend. You saw it coming, and you kept us out of jail. You’re the one that came up with all the plans. Me, Javier, Gaspar, we’re just the muscle.”

“Ow!” Nicolas flinched as Oscar punched his shoulder.

“We probably should get going.” Oscar peered at the sky. “Your mom will have a whole litter of kittens if you’re not home by dark.”

Nicolas rolled his eyes and grunted. He turned his head to steal one last peek at the ocean as he followed Oscar into the dense vegetation.

“Speaking of your mom,” Oscar pushed a low-hanging branch out of his way, “what does she think of all this?” He released the branch, allowing it to whip back.

Nicolas threw his arms up just in time to avoid getting slapped in the face by the thin branch. He scowled at Oscar.

“She doesn’t know about any of this, and she’s not going to know about any of it.”

Oscar turned his head, furrowing his brow.

“How exactly are you going to keep the scooter a secret?”

“I don’t know.” Nicolas shrugged. “I guess she’ll know about that, just not anything else. I’ll tell her it was a gift from a friend or something.”

“Right,” Oscar snorted, “because you have so many friends with pockets full of money and more scooters than they can fit in their giant garages. Hey!” Oscar stumbled as Nicolas successfully kicked the bottom of his shoe mid-stride.

“Hey yerself.” Nicolas smirked triumphantly.

“You can be such a punk sometimes.” Oscar shook his head, smiling.

***

Nicolas dropped Oscar at his house, then made the return drive to his own home, arriving just as the sun was setting.

“I’m home,” Nicolas announced as he entered the house. His mother entered the living room from the kitchen, scowling.

“Where have you been?”

“I went to hang out with Oscar.”

“How did you get there?” She looked out the window. “What is that?”

“It’s a scooter.”

“Were did it come from?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“It’s a gift from a friend,” Nicolas responded lamely.

“Who?” his mother demanded.

“Uhm, I got a job, for a private courier company. I am delivering packages for them. They gave me the scooter to do that.”

“What is the name of this company?”

Mamá,” Nicolas whined, “I don’t know, it’s just a guy.”

“Who?” his mother persisted.

“Luis, Luis Arroya.” Nicolas figured there was no sense making up a name. Maybe Luis would be willing to support his cover story. His mother continued to scowl suspiciously. Finally, with a huff, she turned and went back to the kitchen.

“You’re late for dinner. Everyone has already eaten. There is still beans and rice in the pot, you can have that.”

Nicolas breathed a sigh of relief, though he doubted this was over. She was so overprotective! Didn’t she realize he was almost an adult now?

“Can you give me a ride?” Leticia, his twelve-year-old sister sitting quietly in the corner of the room, had gone unnoticed throughout the conversation with his mother.

“Okay.” Nicolas smiled. “But just around the block.”

Leticia grinned, then jumped to her feet and raced outside.

Friday, September 29, 2023

Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch1


(Landing page with info and list of sample chapters)


Chapter 1

Nicolas Mora remembered vividly the first time he stole anything. He was twelve years old, and his family had traveled to Ixtapa to visit friends. The Mora family usually spent two or three weekends every summer visiting old friends in Ixtapa.

He had gone out one evening with a group of boys and no real plans, just to roam the streets and watch the tourists. It was spring break and Ixtapa was packed with American youth.

They had come across two American girls who were wandering the streets together, dressed in clubbing clothes. The girls were a bit tipsy, but not ready to call it a night. Their own funds must have run short, as they were stopping various boys, offering to make out with them in exchange for alcohol.

They found two willing young American men and slipped into a side street to commence the exchange. Nicolas and his friends slunk after the four teens, keeping to the shadows.

The Americans stopped near the back door of one of the clubs. The girls placed their small handbags on the lid of a garbage can and paired off with the two boys.

“Nicolas, I dare you to go steal one of those purses.”

“What?” Nicolas scowled. “No.”

“Chicken.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then do it.”

“Fine, I will.”

One of the boys gave Nicolas a push, and he slipped from their hiding place, behind some boxes. He padded forward, watching the two couples warily. It seemed to him a sort of duel was underway—the boys’ hands roaming, pressing every advantage in an effort to expand the scope of what was permissible while the girls attempted to contain and constrain the boys’ wandering hands, striving to maintain a boundary, but without doing anything that might cause the boys to get upset and renege on the deal.

There had been a certain thrill to it, he recalled, an excitement. A heightened sense of alertness as he approached. Expecting at any moment to be seen, devising and adjusting an escape plan with each step. It seemed he could feel every irregularity, every pebble through the soles of his shoes. His nostrils were assaulted by the alley’s lingering scents of teenage sweat, stale urine, cheap perfume and cheaper alcohol.

He focused his ears on the sounds of the couples, listening for any indication the semi-amorous engagement was breaking. He ignored the muffled cacophony of dance music, drifting and mingling from various nearby clubs. His skin prickled in the hot, humid night air as he crept closer.

The ‘duel’ kept the two couples sufficiently occupied for Nicolas to tiptoe to the garbage can unnoticed. He gripped both handbags, lifted them carefully, then turned and retreated as rapidly as he could while keeping his footfalls silent. He returned to his friends, holding up the evidence of his bravado for all to see.

At that time, Nicolas concluded either the girls had a different definition of ‘not enough money,’ or they were lying. Between the two handbags, the boys collected just under a hundred American dollars. That was more money than his father made in a month!

In addition to the thrill he experienced, he had felt a twinge of guilt back then. He had almost felt sorry for the two girls—had worried about how losing the contents of their bags had affected them.

But no longer. Now, at age seventeen, he felt contempt for the Americans as he walked along the street, looking for an easy target. They were spoiled brats who came to Mexico, flaunted their money, partied in the streets with no regard for the locals, and left behind a mass of debris; cans, bottles and plastic bags. Misplaced shirts, pants and sandals. The side streets reeked of refuse and vomit.

The Americans were disgusting pigs. They were also easy money for a few days every year.

It was easier now he and his friends were old enough to take jobs. The four of them would be hired as part-time help with the local shops. Gaspar’s father owned a small shop near the beach, which gave them an ‘in.’ They would deliver supplies, organize inventory, and sweep sidewalks during the day, which would accustom the police to seeing them and lower their suspicion.

Of course, the police weren’t the only concern. Spring break was lucrative for the Templario cartel, through money they skimmed from the legitimate businesses as well as what they acquired through the sale of illicit drugs and prostitution. They also utilized spring break as an opportunity to find new channels for drug distribution in the United States. The Templarios had a vested interest in ensuring theft and violent crime were absent in the areas the spring breakers visited, and more than a few rumors circulated of petty criminals being beaten to death or beheaded.

Nicolas and his friends were very careful. They worked together to select only a few targets each year. They had become familiar enough with clothing brands to be able to profile for wealth, and they prioritized middle-class females, which was the sweet spot for higher probability of a decent amount of cash, and lower probability of raising an alarm. Younger high school girls were particularly good targets, since they were typically there on Daddy’s money and therefore didn’t feel the loss personally. Also, since they were usually using fake IDs to get alcohol, and to get into clubs, they were even less inclined to report anything.

Nicolas coordinated the activities of his friends as they identified potential targets, and then took turns tailing them. He’d work out a strategy to make the grab, his friends would execute the plan, and they’d split the loot. They’d limit themselves to six or seven targets a year total. They weren’t getting rich by any means, but a week’s work could net them the equivalent of several months’ salary.

And there was still the thrill of it. Even greater now than the first time. The hunting, the planning, the dynamic, fluid nature of the plans, as the people and environment shifted and changed. On the fly adaptation to maintain stealth, to outwit the police, and the victims. Nicolas loved the rush far more than the money.

Nicolas was currently following an especially promising target. She was a high school senior from Scottsdale, Arizona, here with a half-dozen girlfriends. Gaspar had discovered her the previous afternoon, talking loudly to attract attention to herself, and flashing large quantities of cash to impress her friends.

Gaspar had followed them to their hotel and waited for them, but when they came back out that evening, they weren’t carrying their beach bags. Most likely they had their cash—and fake IDs—in the pockets of their denim shorts.

Nicolas had picked them up this morning as they left the hotel dressed in bikinis, their beach bags once again in tow. The one girl definitely stood out from the others. She was loud, she spoke over the other girls, and her voice was gratingly nasal. Her daddy had to be loaded. Money was the only reason Nicolas could think of for the other girls to put up with her. They were nearly clear of the shops leading to the beach when Nicolas pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed.

Sí,” came the voice of Javier.

“Photoshoot.” Nicolas spoke softly. “They’re heading right to you. Maybe three more minutes and you’ll see them.”

Sí,” Javier responded. Nicolas tapped the button to end the call and dropped the phone back into his pocket.

It was a well-rehearsed strategy. Javier and Oscar would ‘bump into’ the girls. Javier would be very charming and would offer to take a photo of the girls together. They would accept the offer immediately because such girls were vain, and always wanted their picture taken. Oscar would hold their bags for them while Javier took several pictures. Nicolas would then slip next to Oscar while the girls were distracted and extract the handbag from the target’s beach bag. He would move on while Javier finished his photoshoot, effusively complimenting the girls on their beauty. Oscar would return the bags, and the two young men would say their goodbyes and slip away. The girls were already past the shops, so an impulse purchase was unlikely, and there weren’t many reasons to pull their money out on the beach, so they probably wouldn’t notice anything missing for several minutes, if not hours, and several more encounters.

Nicolas slowed his pace, widening the gap between himself and the girls, giving sufficient room to allow Javier and Oscar to set the trap as he approached.

Buenos dias, señoritas!” Javier’s voice carried as he engaged the girls. Nicolas paused briefly in front of a shop, examining a small bauble with feigned interest. He strained his ears, listening to the giggling of the girls, as Javier engaged them with his flattery.

Javier—by far the most charismatic of the four—was usually the one to do the approaches. He was trim and well groomed, with a perfectly proportioned face, and his complexion was the lightest of the boys, allowing him to blend in with the American teens, yet still dark enough to appear exotic, intriguing. He stood nearly a head higher than the other three, who were all close to the same height and build, Gaspar being the shortest by one or two centimeters.

Gaspar was the best of the four at finding targets. Gaspar’s slightly diminutive stature and appearance gave him the ability to go unnoticed by the party-going teens. He had just a hint of roundness in his face and midsection, giving him a cute little-brother vibe. His complexion was also the darkest, his features displaying his Aztec heritage. The sum effect was, he was just interesting enough to not be shunned, but not so interesting as to attract attention. The perfect shadow. He would find the marks, then leave the rest to the other three.

“Oh yes, please, let me take your picture for you. My amigo can hold your bags.” That was Nicolas’s cue. He returned the bauble to its place and continued his stroll toward the group. He ran a hand through his wavy, dark hair, careful not to fix his gaze on Oscar as he approached.

Ironically Oscar, whose toned, muscular physique made him the perfect candidate to attract girls, was uncomfortably awkward around them. He stood with the half-dozen bags on his arms, and an expression that might be irritation, or boredom. His eyes were focused intently on a rock near his feet.

“Oh yeah, that’s nice.” Javier encouraged the girls as they struck various poses. “Very sexy.”

Nicolas casually scanned the area as he approached Oscar. He stiffened, his heart jumping. He forced himself to remain expressionless, and he continued forward, undeterred.

“Abort,” Nicolas murmured to Oscar as he passed by, not stopping. Oscar’s eyes flashed up briefly, then returned to the rock.

Que pasa?” Oscar’s lips barely moved.

Policía,” Nicolas replied, glancing again to the three policemen unobtrusively watching the exchange. He continued past Oscar and sauntered down the street, throwing a curious glance at the posing, giggling girls before rounding a corner and melting into the crowd.

“That was very smooth.” A baritone voice next to Nicolas startled him. He quickly regained his composure as he turned an innocent, confused face toward the voice. A middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a disarming smile was walking next to him.

“I’m sorry?” Nicolas asked, his brow furrowed.

“The way you handled that—the way you adapted—that was very smooth.” The man gave a half-nod. “Very impressive.”

Nicolas shook his head. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You and I need to talk.” The man’s gaze lingered on Nicolas’s face for a moment. “Please, follow me.”

Two burly men seemed to appear out of thin air from the crowd, one on either side, and slightly behind Nicolas. Nicolas’s throat tightened. These had to be Templarios. He swallowed against the wave of fear welling up inside him. Glancing around quickly, he looked for an escape route. A giant heavy hand closed on his shoulder.

“Don’t try it.” A gruff voice spoke quietly in his ear.

Nicolas glanced back to his friends. The policemen were questioning them.

“Oh, my apologies.” The man spoke, observing Nicolas. “You, of course, are concerned for your associates. We can wait until the police are done with them.”

The police were searching the two boys fruitlessly, with increasing frustration. Finally, after several more minutes of interrogation, the police threw their hands up in surrender and sent the two young men away.

“Ah, all is well, then.” The man smiled. “Now, back to our business, if you please.”

The man continued up the street, and Nicolas followed at the prompting of the two men flanking him. They continued through the streets for a few minutes more, until they were clear of the crowds of raucous teenagers.

As they walked toward an SUV bearing the Mercedes logo, a man exited from the driver’s seat and walked around the vehicle to open the rear door for the man, who slid into the seat, then beckoned to Nicolas.

“Please join me,” the man said it as though it was a polite invitation. A glance at the ever-present thugs barring his escape made it clear the invitation could not be refused. Nicolas let out a sigh as he climbed onto the seat next to the man.

“What is your name, young man?”

Nicolas hesitated. Should he give a fake name? Something in the man’s eyes suggested he already knew. Nicolas’s shoulders slumped.

“Nicolas,” he replied, “Nicolas Mora.”

“Nicolas,” the man repeated, “pleasure to meet you. I am Luis Arroya. I oversee the interests of the Templarios in Ixtapa.”

Nicolas swallowed hard. He had already guessed these men were Templarios, but hearing it confirmed was more than unsettling.

“You see …” Luis turned his gaze to the city, “… Ixtapa is important to the Templarios. The value it generates is quite high. Its value comes from the many visitors it receives. The more, the better. Visitors come here because they feel safe.”

Luis focused once again on Nicolas, his eyes narrowing as his expression hardened.

“Crime, even petty crimes, erode that sense of safety. So, you see, the Templarios take crime in Ixtapa very seriously.” Luis’s expression softened once more as he returned his attention to the window. “Usually, in a case like this, we simply collect the offenders, and …” he paused ominously, “… make them disappear.”

Nicolas shifted in his seat, his eyes darting, frantically searching for a way to escape.

“Your case is an exception.” Luis’s genial smile returned. “You are a very sharp young man, very observant and organized.”

“You know, we intended to have you and your friends arrested, and come talk to you in your jail cell. But you,” Luis chuckled softly and wagged his finger, “you saw the trap and cleverly wriggled out of it.”

Luis leaned over, placing a hand on Nicolas’s knee. “To be truthful, it was a chance stroke of luck that we even became aware of you. Talent like yours shouldn’t be wasted, Nicolas, which is why we want to recruit you.”

Nicolas stared down at his lap, his brows knitted as he chewed his lower lip.

“What will I have to do?” Nicolas looked up.

“Oh, various tasks: deliver messages and packages, coordinate activities of small groups. In time, you might be groomed for a leadership position in the organization. As I said, talent like yours should not be wasted.”

“If I refuse?”

“Well.” Luis shrugged. “If that is your choice, that is your choice I suppose. Naturally, you and your friends’ activities will no longer be permitted.”

“They have to join also?”

“You are welcome to invite them, but no, they are not required. You and they may continue your present activities unmolested, as long as you work for us, and so long as they continue to be unobtrusive and restricted.”

Nicolas stared down at the floor again.

“If we had been arrested, and I refused, what would have happened?”

Luis grinned. “You would have remained in jail to serve your sentence.”

The two sat in silence for a minute, as Nicolas mulled the offer over.

“You don’t have to decide right now. Take some time to consider, discuss it with your friends if you wish.”

As if on some prearranged cue, one of the men guarding the vehicle opened the door, then stood aside to allow Nicolas to exit.

“Here, take these.” Luis extended his hand to Nicolas, offering him a small booklet and a cell phone. “The book is the code of the Templarios. You should read it, make sure you understand it. Breaking the code is punishable by death.”

Nicolas examined the booklet. It was small, only a dozen pages, and could easily fit in his pocket. The cover was decorated with knights on horseback, each with a lance at the ready, and a cross in their free hand.

Luis gestured to the phone. “I’ll call you in a week to discuss your decision.”

Nicolas took the book and phone and slid out of the vehicle. The driver and the other two men entered the SUV, then the engine purred to life, and the vehicle pulled away from the curb.

Nicolas stood still, watching until the SUV was out of sight. He stared down at the phone in his hand for another minute, then slipped it into his pocket. He removed his own phone and dialed Oscar’s number.

“Hello?” Oscar’s voice was tentative.

“It’s me.”

Oscar breathed out explosively. “Where are you, man? Is everything okay? We were going to call you when we couldn’t find you, but we didn’t know if you were caught, or on the run, or hiding or something.”

“I’m fine, meet me at the shop. We need to talk.”

“We’ll be there in five minutes.”

Nicolas ended the call and returned the phone to his pocket. He mulled the conversation over as he walked. How had they found out? He and his friends had been so careful. What had they missed?

Would Luis really let him refuse and just walk away?

What kinds of ‘various activities’ would he be expected to do? Petty theft was one thing, but what if they wanted him to smuggle drugs? Or kill someone? Nicolas shuddered at that thought.

He’d seen some guys he knew were Templarios once. They had money. Lots of it. The things he could do for his family—new clothes, new cars, as much food as they could eat ….

The others were already at the shop when Nicolas arrived, watching him closely as he approached, looking for any indication that a trap might be set for them. This was the first time they had been caught––almost been caught. They were understandably on edge.

“What’s up, man?” Javier questioned, “Did the police grab you?”

Nicolas shook his head. “Templarios.”

Eyes widened in surprise, and Gaspar swore under his breath.

“Templarios? Are you sure?” Oscar frowned. “How’d you get away?”

“They let me go.”

“What?” Gaspar raised his brows. “Why?”

“They want me to work for them. They gave me a week to consider it. They said you guys could come too. If we say no, we gotta shut down our operation.”

Oscar snorted. “Do you believe them? That they will let us say no, I mean.”

“I don’t know, I think so. You guys at least, I’m pretty sure you can say no. Not so sure they’ll let me walk away.”

“Whatever you decide, man.” Oscar gripped Nicolas’s shoulder. “I got your back.”

“Whoa.” Gaspar shook his head. “I don’t know, man, I mean, stealing a little cash from stupid gringas is one thing, but you’re talking big time here. Career criminal stuff.”

“Yeah,” Nicolas affirmed. “It could be bad stuff. Might be good money too. They do have a code of conduct, so maybe not so bad.”

“Really?” Oscar raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I read through it on my way here. They talk about the European Knights Templar a lot, like, it used to be their code or something. You swear to help the poor and fight against materialism, and to never kill for money. You gotta be respectful to women and children and protect the helpless.”

“That doesn’t sound bad,” Javier said, “in fact, that all sounds really good.”

“Oh, and you can’t use drugs.”

“What?” Gaspar leaned forward. “Don’t they sell drugs?”

“I think so.” Nicolas furrowed his brow. “I guess I don’t know for sure, but the book says they will test you for drug use, and if they catch you …” Nicolas drew a finger across his throat.

“If we can walk away from it, I think we should.” Gaspar spoke resolutely.

“Easy choice for you,” Javier huffed. “You got money. You do this stuff for the thrill. Me? My father can’t work, and my mother only gets a few pesos a week doing odd jobs. The cash we get from spring break helps feed my family. No offense, man.”

“No.” Gaspar sighed. “I get it.”

“We got a week to think it over,” Nicolas reminded the others. “Maybe longer for you guys. And we don’t all have to give the same answer.”

The four boys stood together silently, staring at the ground.

“Well, today’s done,” Nicolas finally spoke. He inclined his head toward Gaspar. “We should go see if your dad needs any help.”

Friday, September 15, 2023

Nicolas: Author Note

Dear reader,

 

A few days after I released my first novel, MissTaken, I was told by several people that they loved the story, but there was one character in particular—Nicolas—they wanted to know more about. Roughly a week later, I woke up at two in the morning, and his story just flashed through my mind. I furiously scribbled notes before it faded from memory, then set to work writing.

I am delighted to now present to you, Nicolas: A MissTaken Story.

This story occurs over roughly the same timeline as the first book, but through the eyes of Nicolas. While I have attempted to make this story stand on its own, I do think reading MissTaken first will improve the clarity and make it a more enjoyable experience.

For those who have read MissTaken, I will note this story is a bit darker in tone, owing to the perspective of the protagonist. It delves more deeply into the world of trafficking, though I have worked hard to do so in a way that is tasteful.

I am writing this note just a few days after watching Sound of Freedom, a movie based on the story of Tim Ballard and his efforts to combat human trafficking. It has reignited in me a desire to do something, to help in some small way; to shed some light on this contemporary issue.

It is nearly 160 years since the end of the American Civil War, which many see as the “end of slavery”. Yet today, there are an estimated thirty to fifty million slaves worldwide (0.5 to 5 million in the US). That’s three to five times the total number of slaves brought to the US during the entirety of the transatlantic slave trade. It is estimated that roughly thirteen to twenty percent of present-day slaves are children.

While this story is a work of fiction, most of the concepts surrounding slavery and trafficking are founded in reality, based on information shared with me by people from Central and South America, who have witnessed its horrors. It is a very real, very sobering problem. One which needs more attention, more sincere effort to resolve. Nobody should live in bondage.

It is my hope that this novel—in addition to being an enjoyable story—will help to create awareness, and perhaps to inspire others to become more involved in whatever way they can.

As a small step on my part, I am committing twenty percent of the profits from the sale of this book to one or more organizations dedicated to fighting and preventing human trafficking, and to helping its victims.

Thank you for your support and enjoy Nicolas: A MissTaken Story.

Sincerely,

Edwin Philips



(Back to Landing Page for Nicolas: A MissTaken Story)

Nicolas: A MissTaken Story

 This is my landing page for Nicolas: A MissTaken Story

Note: Contents are subject to change.



My author page on Amazon: https://amazon.com/author/ecphilips 

I also have an author page on Goodreads


MissTaken Landing Page (Where it all began).



Nicolas: A MissTaken Story

Preface (A note from the author)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6 - coming soon



27 Oct 2023 - Front cover design has been selected! Hope to have the final full cover soon! Looking like I will be able to publish in November. I should be able to add the cover to this page next week, when I upload chapter 6. 😀


12 Oct 2023 - Typesetting is complete. Hopefully the Cover will be my birthday present... 


6 Oct 2023 - Typesetting is in process now. :-)  Still no cover design :-(


29 Sep 2023 - The final proof is back in my hands! Aiming to get it ready for Typesetting by the middle of October. I am very anxious to see the first draft of the cover. Hopefully it will be ready soon.


15 Sep 2023 - My second book is nearly ready to publish! The manuscript is out for final proof and should be back in my hands at the end of this month or early next month. Cover design is in process, and hopefully the cover will be adorning this page next month. Looking promising to be published before the end of the year.



Monday, September 4, 2023

Capitalism vs Communism: A Different Perspective

 

Capitalism vs communism has been a long-standing point of contention for many decades. I wonder however, if the debate is not misdirected.



I think it best to begin with a bit of history.



The concept of capitalism is generally attributed to Adam Smith - a Scottish economist who published a series of books in the late 1770's, analyzing the nature and causes of the wealth of nations.

Adam Smith's Theory was that  - in the absence of war, resource deficits, or poor governing policies - human economics would evolve naturally through four stages:

  1. Primitive hunting
  2. Agricultural Nomads
  3. Agricultural Feudalism
  4. Commercial Interdependence.

The final stage being the 'utopian vision'. 

His observations supporting this were derived from the '14th century crisis'. A combination of wars and famine, followed by the Black Death, caused a severe population decline. This left the great feudal manors with a deficit of serfs to manage their lands. To overcome this, manors would offer increased wages to tenant farmers, to poach them from other manors or entice them from towns. (Note: This seems counter to Smith's model, as it was a combination of war and deficit which caused the transition from Feudalism to Commercial Interdependence.)

This model became the standard for 17th century economics. The key characteristic (lending to its name) was the idea that, rather than using accumulated wealth (capital) to build monuments (statues, cathedrals, pyramids, etc..), one would use that capital to improve the means of production, thereby raising the standard of living for all.

Smith believed this would occur and regulate naturally, according to our own "better natures". He specifically argued against civil intervention, as such government institutions tend to protect the rich to the detriment of the poor.

Smith did note one key flaw in the model; the potential for one, or a small group of individuals to accumulate a monopoly position. He opposed that, though it is not clear (to me at least), how he thought to control for that. Perhaps - relying on humans' "better natures" - he anticipated we would "naturally" choose to prevent the rise of monopoly powers.

Alas, he overlooked our silly ability to conflate disconnected themes - such as wealth and righteousness (which became a popular concept during the protestant reformation era and allowed 'pious' people to justify hoarding their wealth and ignoring the needy on the grounds that the needy were getting what they deserved for their unrighteous behaviors). He also had not considered in his equation, the industrial revolution, and the displacement of human labor by machines.


Communism was, in many ways, Karl Marx's response to these flaws in capitalism. Through the industrial revolution, he observed a consolidation of power into the hands of a few (The very thing Smith opposed), and the formation of a privileged class (The Bourgois).

Marx theorized the natural progression would then be a revolution, in which the increasingly dissatisfied Proletariat would overthrow this privileged class. He believed this would lead to an interim period (Socialism), during which an altruistic, intellectually elite group would assume control of the responsibility of government. They would redistribute the stolen wealth and restore a state of equity. 

Once a state of stability was achieved the interim organization would voluntarily relinquish power, and society would operate under the direction of the collective (Communism).


This model has been tried repeatedly, but always fails in the "Socialism" phase. It should be obvious, knowing what we know about human nature, that those willing to wield such authority, never willingly surrender it. But then somehow, we all believe we are exempt from that particular human characteristic. We uniquely, are truly enlightened, wise, and altruistic - unlike the many others before us. We would only wield such power until the masses have finally matured, and we would recognize this, and then we would happily step aside. We are not like everyone else...

But let's take a moment to consider these models under a different lens.

First, it is notable that those in the capitalist camp tend to treat communism and socialism as one thing. This - I believe - adds to the confusion. As such, let's consider them separately, as Marx described them. However, rather than diagram it according to Marx's timeline. I am going to render it thusly:



Starting on the right side of the image, those in the communist camp idealize it as a system under which all people have access to the means of production.

In simplistic, agrarian terms, everybody has an equal portion of equally good ground, on which they can plant, raise, and harvest food. And because we are 'nice' human beings, we help each other out, so when someone has a bad year, we share our abundance to help them get by until next year. Also, because we are 'fundamentally good', we don't take advantage of this system, to get other people to work for us while we laze about. We all work together, share together, lift together, rise together.

Capitalists object to this system because we aren't all decent human beings. Some will abuse the system, and they don't want to be forced to pay for someone else's laziness. This is where the conflation is a problem. This isn't communism they are describing; this is socialism. Communism (ideally) doesn't have a mechanism to force you to surrender your goods to aid someone else. People do that out of natural human kindness. Socialism is the system in which a few 'enlightened' individuals make the decisions for us, regarding how our resources are allocated. Not communism.

Moving to the left side, those in the capitalist camp idealize it as a system under which everyone has the capacity to produce value, according to their abilities and efforts, and will fare accordingly (this is really just another way of saying all people have access to the means of production. Our inherent good natures will allow us - through individual industriousness, and through the free exchange of goods and services - to all work together, share together, lift together, and rise together (sound similar to something I just defined?).

Capitalists do chafe at the idea that everybody gets an equal portion of equally good ground, because... well... that is impractical. You can only do that once without robbing somebody to give to the next generation. However, capitalists also hold the ideal (as Smith himself proclaimed), that better human nature - our rational self-interest if you will - will cause us to help out those who are struggling, and a degree of balance will occur naturally. They also believe capitalism is protected to some degree from the problem of people abusing the system; since charity is given by choice, those who try to get a free ride, will at some point be recognized as abusers, and will stop receiving charity, at which point they will of necessity return to a state of productivity.

Socialists and Communists both object to this system, as it means a small number of people amass the wealth and subjugate the masses. However, one should note - this scenario is one which Smith objected to. As such, it should be treated as a separate system from capitalism. Let's call it "corporatism".




Now, ignore for a minute, the rhetoric around the two; the (mis)conceptions regarding how you 'get there'. Just consider the most fundamental ideals of capitalism and communism. The grand utopian vision of each.


A system in which everyone has the means to produce wealth; in which everyone fares according to the effort they expend, and in which, through basic human kindness (charity), nobody is left to suffer unfairly. A system in which free exchange and cooperation allows us all to collectively rise.


The two systems, at the idealistic level, are fundamentally equivalent, and seek fundamentally the same outcome.




Both systems suffer from the same fundamental flaw - that is, they both depend on the manifestation of our better natures; the intentional extinction, or at the very least, suppression, of "Your Greatest Enemy".

Failing that, both systems inevitably degrade to a state in which a small number of individuals accumulate an inordinate amount of control over the means of production. On the left side, this occurs through unethical manipulation of the economic system (typically justified as being 'smart about business' and capitalizing on their advantages or opportunities. That or being blessed by God - divine providence). On the right side, it occurs through manipulation of the social system (typically justified as a response to the aforementioned abuses on the left side; an abuse of power to battle an abuse of power. That or divine or intellectual providence).

The end result on either side is the same, however. A small number of individuals acquire inordinate power and control over the fortunes, freedoms and destinies of the masses. They will claim it is necessary to protect the masses (who are perceived as inferior), but, since they are also human, and subject to the same human failings as the masses, they inevitably prioritize their own needs, according to their specific fears, flaws, and driving survival mechanisms.

So, the reality of these models, considered collectively, is this:






We organize ourselves around one of two ideals, which seem opposed due to our different perspectives, but are fundamentally equivalent. 

We oppose the other system, not based on its 'ideal', but rather on the state of inevitable oppression to which it degrades, due to our inherent, human natures.

The system we espouse degrades to its oppressive state, helped along in part by our own inherent natures. 

It is interesting to note, both sides of this equation can happen simultaneously. It is also notable, those who ascend to power on both sides often do so with our help, and admiration. We view them as the champions opposing the oppression on the other side, and out of fear, we accede to their oppression, to protect us from the others' oppression.

And while the two oppressors appear to be in contention with one another, when one considers our inherent natures, one should realize they have more in common with one another than they do with the masses who serve them. They therefore tend to ally with one another more often than they ally with their respective masses. But because of our highly manipulable natures through fear, uncertainty and doubt, we willingly sacrifice our own will to our respective oppressors, unable to perceive that we in fact have more in common with the 'opposing masses', than we do with our chosen oppressors. 

So, there we sit, pining for identical ideals, while fearing - and adoring identical oppressors. An absurd, foolish tragedy.


In conclusion, I believe "capitalism vs. communism" is a false flag, which leads to an artificial battle against an enemy who is not our enemy, in an alliance with those who are not our allies. It is a distraction; a diversion which enslaves us in a prison we manufacture through our fear of the worst nature in others, and our unwillingness to acknowledge that same nature in ourselves.

Just something to consider next time you take up arms in the social media-sphere.











Wednesday, August 30, 2023

Reasoning: Our Greatest Enemy

 (This post is part of series of posts, indexed here. It is recommended they be read collectively, and in order.)  


This post could, perhaps, be considered an addendum to the prior post, exploring the impact of your greatest enemy on the larger society.

Humans, even the introverts, are social animals. We need social connection. Complete social isolation has been shown to have significant negative impact on emotional well-being, and it even causes physical changes within the human brain. (See The Effects of Solitary Confinement on the Brain:  Psychology Today)

If you consider the human being from a purely physical design, it seems quite obvious we are intended to function within a social collective - a herd or pack if you will. We are quite poorly designed to survive in this - often harsh - world. Our exterior covering provides little protection from extremes in heat or cold. Our long, gangly, upright structure is less balanced, less durable than most other creatures in the animal kingdom. We have no claws, nor tusks to serve as offensive or defensive weapons, and our hide, when compared to most other creatures, is quite fragile.

For the first few years of our lives, we are utterly helpless. Without someone to care for us, we would die of starvation, or dehydration, or exposure.

Our survival depends heavily on our mental capacity, and our opposable thumbs; our ability to imagine, design, and construct tools and machines which compensate for our frail structure, and which allows us to re-shape our environment to suit us. 


Our capacity to do so collectively is truly the secret to our success. We collaborate to create systems far more complex and sophisticated than any one person could ever hope to achieve in a lifetime.


You may readily note the presence of our fundamental survival mechanisms within this:

  1. Seek Pleasure
  2. Avoid Pain
  3. Conserve Energy

Our homes, vehicles, electronic gadgets … All designed for the purpose of increasing our comfort (or decreasing our discomfort if you prefer) and reducing the effort we must personally exert.  We can now plant and harvest crops largely from the comfort of an air-conditioned machine. We can travel thousands of miles in less than a day. We have become so efficient in meeting our basic survival needs, there are now entire industries, employing millions of people, devoted entirely to entertainment and leisure.

However, much like the above mechanisms, our fundamental social characteristics can be subverted.


Survival dictates we avoid potential dangers, and seek out potential  allies. But how does one identify potential dangers? In simplest terms, "Different is dangerous." and "same is safe."

But what is "same" and what is "different"?

Skin color, hair color, language, accent ...  Outward characteristics are perhaps the most immediately available to us. 


If you have ever traveled to a foreign country or even a distant city, perhaps you've had a chance encounter with someone who was from your own region, and experienced that moment of connection with them, even though personally, you know them no better than any of the strangers surrounding you. The similarity in speech, clothing style, accent... whatever it may be, is more familiar, and so you experience an immediate rapport.

Conversely, have you ever witnessed a baby's first encounter with a father after he shaved a full beard? The very sudden, very dramatic change in appearance generally leads to tears. Daddy must reestablish his rapport with his child, as he has reverted to 'stranger'.

We gravitate toward that which we deem similar, and away from that which we perceive as 'different'. However, since the function of this behavior is tied to the need for protection against danger (real or perceived), The characteristics which are prioritized for similarity are often altered by our fears. Instead of seeking the 'greater of two goods', we will instead default to the 'lesser of two evils'. We will align with the obvious 'enemy of our enemy', over a potentially neutral friend.

Furthermore, since our own opinions are quite mutable (despite our claims to the contrary), once we have aligned with a group, we will tend to adopt the group tenets ('groupthink', or the 'echo-chamber' phenomenon as they are often called; this, coupled with our tenuous grasp of 'truth', can shape our entire culture, to the point of creating false realities). And once again, as this is a survival mechanism, fear tends to hold greater sway in the preferential weighting of these tenets. We huddle together, and chitter fearfully, or angrily at the perceived threats without.


An extreme example of the effects of this can be seen in the Rwandan genocide, as Hutu people slaughtered neighbors; not just the Tutsi, but also Hutus who held moderate views in regards to the Hutu - Tutsi conflict ('if you are not for us, you are against us').

Another example worth consideration is the Soviet campaign to eliminate the kulaks - essentially peasant farmers who, despite their generally poor-to-middle-class state, were considered enemies to the 'collective', due to their land ownership. The kulaks were imprisoned or murdered, their livestock were destroyed, and their crops were ruined. The result of this ill-conceived action was a famine which killed over five million people.


Fundamentally, this is what is really happening 'under the hood' of what we call 'racisim' or 'sexism' or 'ageism'... It is the underlying mechanism defining discrimination against members of a different religion, or a political party, against blonds or redheads, or blue eyes vs brown eyes.

We layer all kinds of nonsensical and complex concepts on top of this, to attempt to explain or describe this behavior (unconscious bias, privilege, etc...), but it really is not so complicated as that. It is simply a survival mechanism that we are failing to properly manage. 


A second key characteristic of our social nature is that of hierarchy. In point of fact, "...all men are..." NOT "...created equal...". Our genetic differences predispose us to excel in certain capacities and underperform in others. Our own personal interest in, and investment of time to study and practice a particular skill further widens the gap. This ability to specialize is fundamental to our extraordinary success as a species.  One masterful farmer, using advanced tools created by a skilled craftsman can feed a village, freeing others to construct more comfortable homes and more efficient tools, to innovate and invent better fabrics, indoor plumbing, electric lights, heating and cooling, computers, transportation … It is all possible due to our hierarchical nature.


This particular characteristic is impacted by a couple of the fundamental survival mechanisms.


First, our directive to conserve energy will oft time lead us to surrender authority to those we perceive as more capable (even in some instances when they aren't). This can be observed in the 1960's Milgram experiment. Its effect likely played a role in the death of Kitty Genovese, who was attacked twice, over the span of one half hour, with witnesses having observed the first attack.

Second, our directive to avoid pain, even injury to our ego may lead us to fight unreasonably against those more competent than us (seemingly in contradiction to the directive to conserve energy). This perhaps explains why organizations, such as Twitter, Google, etc... often censor degreed, credible doctors and scientists whose dissenting opinions don't align the current consensus on certain topics. One specific example is a doctor who creates YouTube videos, reviewing data relating to covid. The entirety of many of these videos is him reviewing and highlighting data from published studies, some of which he pulled directly from the CDC and WHO websites. Yet staff from YouTube (who are not doctors, nor scientists) flags each of these videos with a warning that the information is suspect, and then provides a link to a (out of date) CDC web page where you can "get the facts".


Surrounding all of this is the issue of scale. As our population density grows, we find ourselves connecting to, and shifting between an increasing number of herds. The differences and similarities which bind or divide us become increasingly subtle, and increasingly strong.


This issue of scale also introduces the challenges of anonymity, which frequently impacts both how we perceive others, and how we behave.

When we encounter someone we know nothing about, our natural survival instincts will make snap judgments, based on our past experiences (and associated cognitive biases) based on external factors, to determine whether an individual is a pack member, or a threat. Such cursory evaluations of complex creatures like ourselves are rarely accurate. Curiously, while we usually acknowledge that complexity in ourselves, and those to whom we have established close relationships, we fail to acknowledge it in the anonymous. We dehumanize them. And - being "less than human" - we feel no compunction to treat them according to our established social mores.

The opposite circumstance has a curious effect as well. When we are in a state of anonymity - that is when we are not surrounded by members of one of our many herds, we often behave differently. Our herd tends to act as a social conscience, keeping our natural, instinctual, and sometimes vile natures in check. In their absence, we may behave in ways we otherwise would not. The effects of this are frequently visible in social media chat forums.

So, we can be monstrous when we are not surrounded by our flock, and we can be collectively monstrous when we are caught up in the effects of groupthink with our flock.

When one considers in combination with these, the previously mentioned characteristics:

  1. We view the world not from a position of truth, but from a perceived perspective, through the lens of our unique paradigm.
  2. Our brain lies to us
  3. We construct models, based on narratives, which we therefore accept as 'reality'


One can perhaps recognize the potential for disaster on a grand scale. Our own perception of potential threats tends to be adopted by those within the flock who view us as hierarchically 'competent' - a sort of social contagion, which infects the minds of the collective. These perceived, or imagined characteristics become codified by the collective. They become the truth, regardless of any evidence to the contrary. With scale, the overwhelming volume of data and the inherent anonymity can lead to a point where a critical mass is reached. We can observe the creation of a mass illusion, which - due to the individual need to preserve ego - the flock will aggressively protect. Illusion then becomes - for all practical purposes - reality, and the flock experiences mass psychosis, mass hysteria, with all the potential devastation inherent in a stampede of sophisticated, yet deluded creatures. 

It is here, at this point of mass surrender to 'the natural man', that we observe seemingly rational, morally principled people engage in heinous, unspeakable acts of violence and denigration; subjugation, enslavement, mass murder, genocide. Neighbor against neighbor, and brother against brother. Our capacity for creation balanced by an equal capacity for destruction.


These last two posts may seem quite frightening, disheartening. That is not my intent. 

For, stating the last conversely; our capacity for destruction is balanced by an equal capacity for creation. 

I believe as we come to recognize and acknowledge that within each of us, individually, is this duality - that we contain within ourselves both the seeds of a Mother Theresa and a Mao Zedong, that we are equal parts Ghandi  and Hitler... as we acknowledge this, then we can recognize the circumstances which enable our darker side, and then devise mechanisms to constrain that probability. We can, through the Art of Reasoning, cast aside the illusions, subdue our 'natural man'. And enable our individual, greater selves to ascend.