He couldn’t even stay still, and in such cases, he always thought of dreams. His obsession with thoughts had usually been digested in dreams, many of which had pointed to his university honour and saved his presidential career. “I must dream a good dream,” the president’s voice spoke to his head, “it’s my last resort.”
But he felt an omen for a very serious dream. He was afraid. He tried not to sleep. He worked overnight.
The next morning his citizens were disappointed to hear that it was going to be a no-show day, as their president hadn’t slept a wink. Despite that, many started to show sympathy for the president, “I’ve never thought that the president also overworks like us.”
As things went according to his intention, the president fell awfully asleep that afternoon, resulting in an almost dead nap, which the workers, farmers and street people of this country hadn’t reckoned.
He went into a dream real quick. It happened in front of his eyes, so vividly, that composites were self-creating everywhere. As soon as a new prime was born, that prime would be forced to multiply by other numbers, prime or composite, to form a new composite.
“Everything is adding to the power of us composites,” with a big grin, Miss Eighteen knocked on the president, now just like a nineteen-year-old boy.
Right next to her stood Sir 243,112,609 − 1, who the president knew for sure was too old to speak. “I understand how hopeless you are. It’s hard to find out new primes,” the president showed his sympathy; Sir 243,112,609 − 1 nodded…
Little Two raised her radiant voice, “No worry!
“Will they?” the president intended to ask back, but instead, he uttered the primes he knew, without any stop of breath, as if afraid there was a race and he had to run. It drove him crazy to decide if Little Two was optimistic or naïve. “Is it that we have an unquestioned faith in the so-called bigger-richer-happier? One day the prime world will stop expanding?”
Breathless. Something banged on him. A pack of letters suddenly encircled the president. Another pack, resting just some inches from the first pack, tried to reach out for him. “Nooo!”
He lifted his head up as if getting himself out of a battlefield where some forces were chasing him, shooting and screaming. He quickly contemplated the last scene. The first pack contained {C, E, I, M, O, P, S, T} while the second {E, I, M, P, R}. It couldn’t be more obvious to him that COMPOSITE included all parts of PRIME, except “R.” “Will a deteriorative part of PRIME, that is, ‘R,’ have to die so that COMPOSITE can have everything that PRIME has?”
The president trembled and cheated himself that it was all a dream—he shouldn’t be over-worried. “I must be awake.
Unfortunately, the president couldn’t separate himself from the dream and its implications, thus sneaking into a plan that would detect the deteriorative potential.
Sensing a close connection between the deteriorative potential and numbers, the president asked his people to think of a number, and “Only numbers in your dreams can tell the truth,” he asked his spokesperson to include that last sentence in the announcement, giving away the pretext that he needed to consider everyone’s say to set the right objective for next year’s GDP growth rate.
Just as the president’s anticipation, everyone, being stimulated and enjoying the so-called national participatory decision-making process, submitted their dreams. Even the one-time monks, soldiers, police and businesspeople made good collaboration in the hope that the president would help them regain their status. What the president hadn’t quite anticipated was that the majority of them saw number Five. As a means to test the reliability of this one-night research project, he commanded his underlings to secretly bring a thought recording machine to each household and probe the people there for their daytime thoughts on the proposed GDP growth rate.
Everything went collaboratively and beautifully, so much so that nobody could know the master group LOLLY had been detained after the dream and thought findings were cross-analysed.
LOLLY had been working beyond the knowledge of ordinary citizens, but now, they’d managed to contact the inventors of the dream recording machine, making the president’s dreams and thoughts, paranoid and repressive, all of a sudden go public.
“The wall you leaned on too long will make you weaker.” mumbled, the president. Now the LOLLY also turned his back to him, leaving his dreams to the hands of public, to the people who can lynch him in a few seconds once he is out there. He needed to think quick, needed to find an exit as soon as possible before the volcano erupts and wipes out everything on its way. Suddenly, he remembered the good old days where the dreams remained as dreams and life continued regardless of their complicated meanings. Perhaps, banning both dream-recording and thought-reading machines will be the only solutions to reach the days which were glorious for the rich and powerful of the country.
With the idea emerged like the bubbles in the water, he ran to one of his advisors and asked him to announce the ban. But the advisor warned him that “Sir, it is the fun of people. Once we have given them we cannot take it back because the rule of progress is simple. Everything starts as a luxury, then becomes ordinary, then becomes necessity, then becomes obsolete. This is the evolution of the commodities. We can fasten it, slow it down but we cannot stop it. The consequences will be unpredictably brutal.” The president did not like the advice he was getting from his advisor. “So what do you suggest, then? What shall we do now? Outside is like a pot of milk boiling and we are here watching it, doing nothing.”
No sir, the advisor said. Outside is fine as long as we can control their reaction to your dreams. Remember what Juvenal said centuries ago, “Two things only the people anxiously desire, bread and the circus games.” We will organize more fun for the people, sports competitions, music and film festivals, silly but noisy games for kids. The whole country will be blessed by the entertainment facilities, people will not have time to think about your dreams, or even about their own dreams. Then the dream-recording machines will become obsolete. Then we can take them silently, without letting them know anything, like pulling a hair from the butter, as easy as that.
President thought about it and asked him if the government has sufficient budget for this. The advisor said, “This is our last chance, sir. In the expense of getting in a deep debt, we must do this. Otherwise, the country will fall into the hands of a bunch of ignorant workers and their union leaders who know only talking about seizing the power from the bourgeoisie but do not know how to handle it afterwards.”
President finally dropped his doubts and succumbed to the temptation of getting his power back. He ordered big sports events in every city of the country so that young people will spend their times watching football matches, cheering or even fighting for one team without knowing why they support that one, but not the other one. He ordered huge venues for pop concerts where youth can found nothing but screaming meaningless lyrics and dances. He ordered huge amusement parks and electronic game facilities so the kids will spend their times without making their parents worry about their futures or education plans. Giant shopping centres have been built for the families to spend their entire days inside without needing to leave. The new temples for middle class were where they can do their window shopping and they can entertain their kids. A lot of money has been spent from public funds and when the bottom of the treasury is seen president asked more from the neighbouring countries. When all that money has gone and the creditors started shouldering his door, he started selling huge lands to foreign investors, the lakes and rivers to the rich hotel owners and real estate tycoons. Money was leaving the country but the people were happy as they had never been before.
The entire country became the place of festivities and games, never ending concerts, glamorous sports tournaments and of course the paparazzi media whose main discussion topic was which celebrity was wearing what and which beauty caught her husband in the bed with the house maid. Having big boobs became the most important wisdom for the young girls while they were singing “Sexy, naughty bitchy me” songs on the streets. The young boys, besides appreciating the girls with big boobs, spent all their free time in discussing the next weekend’s football matches or trying to fit in fitness centres so that they will look bigger than they actually are. A few months later, no one was remembering the use of dream-recording machine as they were living in a dreamland thanks to their great leader. The more fun they had, the more they find out that as long as their stomach is full and nothing makes them worry, life is worth to live without causing troubles to those who make it affordable for them. Then why to bother to turn on dream recording machines and peep into other people’s secret world?
President was happy as monks, soldiers and even the business people once more gathered around him to re-constitute his power and cement it with superstitious faiths. President was a hero, a farsighted man in every aspect of life, an ultimate source of wisdom and a great leader who know what his people needs and when they really need it. His handsome pictures returned to the entertainment venues, his giant statues populated in the cities like mushrooms following rain, his inarguably wise words entered into the school books for students to learn by heart and to recite whenever they feel they are losing the debate. Once things returned to its usual routine, he re-introduced his “sufficiency economy” so that poor will be content with what they eat and the with the surplus coming from their hard labour, he will make sure that the country will re-create its billionaires who can pull the debt-ridden economy out of the rubbles. However, it would not be easy to send people back to the miserable life conditions again after giving them so much fun.
When the entertainment venues are closed and people are left without pop music and the pictures of celebrities, they started to think that the bubble has blasted and it is time to get back to reality. The dream recording machines were returning to living rooms once more as if they were forgotten house pets under the couch. From the dusty dirty shelves, it became all clear that president did all these games to create a mass-amnesia in the cost of selling his own country to foreigners. He was so afraid of losing his power, so coward that he could not confront the upper class of his country. That unwatched or ignored dream, no matter how old it was, was enough to make people angry against their beloved great leader. However, this was not enough for them to get together against the main stream. More things were needed and they did not need to wait long to see the frustrations coming along from all sections of society.
When poor peasants are asked to pay for the water they were using to irrigate their rice farms for the centuries because the rivers are now belong to a company, many villagers raised their voices. Then young city dwellers are blocked to enter the lake with their lovers as the lake as well is sold to an investor who will soon build a luxury residence at the middle of the water. The people living in mountainous regions are asked to pay for the air they were breathing because the clean air of the mountains was sold to the rich city people of the neighbour country. Like the deafening silence after a dazzling party pushes the host into an imminent melancholy, all these disappointments of the people added together to make a huge effect. While they were playing President’s games, the country was sold to foreigners in the name of development. The voices get louder and louder after the dreams of the president fell on people’s minds like a glass of water being poured on already burning oil. One more time the rebels took over the streets, angry crowds started to shout their final slogans which was the motto of a famous rebel in 14th century: Share all you have, apart from the lips of your beloved one.
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