I was on the plane again, sent from Washington to comment on another country for the US government. They were eager for me to analyse the ‘New Britain’. We had become obsessed with the island and were desperate to understand why they had closed their borders and confiscated the passports of their citizens. The world suspected foul play, however, no one could prove anything. Every reporter and official praised the development of the country, arguing that every country should embrace isolation.
I was met at arrivals by Dorine. She was a porkie, mid-thirties, dump of a lady. It was entirely rational that she wore no ring. She trotted over to me, hair wet and matted, face marbled.
‘Welcome to Britain Mr Tonkins, Welcome. Welcome!’
She grabbed my hand as soon as I moved it towards hers and shook it with furious enthusiasm, the dough of her fingers flattening and expanding on my palm.
‘Lovely to meet you Dorine! I take that it’s wet outside?’
‘No, at least I don’t think it’s been raining. It’s just overcast. Are you ready to leave?’
‘Yes.’
We walked through the empty arrivals hall, met at the door by two men in suits. Dorine felt that she should explain.
‘Don’t worry about John and James. They are here for your security more than anything!’
‘Okay.’
‘We want you to get back to America in one piece!’
She was a shrill little thing. Her arse was large and wide, the cheeks rising and falling huge distances as she clopped towards the car. John or James opened the door and we got inside. Dorine squeaked over the leather, turning her body towards me.
‘So, you’ll be wondering what our activities will be over the next twenty four hours? Firstly, I’d like to ask, what does your government want to know?’
‘They’re main enquiry centres on how you have achieved a zero percent unemployment rate. Other than that, they are inquisitive about British culture and how the country has changed since we last visited three years ago.’
‘It’s been that long! Don’t stay away for so long in the future! Well, our tour should answer all of these questions, which is good. No need to change the plans!’
She forced a laugh through those teeth. Whistling and snorting. Why would this woman work as the face of a country?
‘I do have one question before we start?’
‘Yes.’
‘This may be a coincidence but why are there so few young people in the streets. Everyone on the sidewalk appears to be old.’
‘Everyone is working. You are only allowed onto the pavement if you are a pensioner.’
‘But what if you have to meet someone in another office?’
‘Email. You can get special permission but it takes a long time. You are allowed to drive in the day if you work in logistics, but that’s it. Everyone else is indoors.’
‘But why do you need to monitor this?’
‘To ensure that everyone is employed.’
‘Oh, so you have to be employed?’
‘Yes, if you are older than eighteen and younger than seventy.’
‘And if you’re not?’
‘You have a set time period to get a job.’
‘And if you don’t get a job within the time period?’
‘Here’s your hotel and you’ll see for yourself later. I’ll pick you up at six and we can discuss this further.’
‘Okay.’
I entered the hotel. It was nice, clean and big. I brewed the kettle, drank the tea, bathed and changed. Dorine arrived at 5.30. Her hair was less wet and she’d applied some makeup. She looked different but no more attractive.
‘So do you want to eat Mr Tonkin?’
‘Yes.’
We entered the street. It was full of people. Dorine explained that after five, anyone could walk outside. All work had finished and people could move freely. It was like any other city in America. People walking hurriedly, thinking about their own agendas, faces grey and sagging. We entered a French restaurant, having passed at least ten before Dorine settled on this one. We were shown our seats and began to browse the menu.
‘So, what do you fancy Mr Tonkin?’
‘I don’t know, sorry Dorine, but why are there so many French restaurants here? We’ve passed a lot.’
‘We’ll get onto that.’
Dorine then began selling the culture of New Britain. The ‘problem of the world’ was that people had too much independence. In reality, people needed more structure and routine then they realised. In Britain the government ensured that, per week, everyone worked forty hours, completed three hours of physical exercise, attended an hour of church and only drank fourteen units of alcohol. This was regulated by various officials, rules, permits and tokens. There were other rules, but essentially the government wanted people to do everything you’re supposed to. You couldn’t leave the country as people would naturally strive for an easier life elsewhere and, although the life may be easier, it would be less rewarding than in Britain. This culminated in a state which had good health, happier people and a productive economy. Dorine described the government as ‘the parental brain’ of the country. In other countries ‘issues of drug use, crime and chronic laziness ruined the culture’. It was convincing.
After we’d eaten and after I’d seen off my week’s fourteen units, Dorine took me to where the questions around unemployment would be answered. We arrived at a warehouse after a short drive out of the city. Before entering Dorine turned to me.
‘Okay, so by your standards, you’ll be shocked. However, you need to understand that this accounts for a half of our world trade.’
We walked through the doors. Inside were thousands of people, all divided up by metal meshing. Each person was sat in front of a computer, everyone engrossed by the screen, no one looking up when we entered. Behind each desk was a foam roll mat and a sleeping bag. I said nothing, Dorine began.
‘So this is the unemployment centre. If you lose your job, you are sent here. You are given four weeks to search for a job in this wing.’
‘Right.’
‘If you fail to get a job in this time, you go on to the next phase. Follow me.’
She walked me across the warehouse. The typing echoed around the roof.
‘When do they sleep?’
‘Who?’
I widened my eyes and gesticulated.
‘Oh sorry. The lights go out at midnight and are switched back on six am, however, they are free to search at night if they wish. A lot do.’
We arrived at a door, a sign read ‘Phase 2’. Dorine opened it calmly, as if it were the door to her house. She exposed a similar room to the first, however, the people ate whilst they searched. They spooned piles of oats into their mouths with one hand and typed with the other. A lot of the people appeared to be sweating and they all looked exhausted, their eyes hammocked by black.
‘This is phase two. If you have failed to secure employment in phase one, then you are brought here. You are given another four weeks here to find a job. However, here you have to eat two kilograms of oats in every twenty four hour period.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ll show you.’
We walked over the floor, passed the typing and eating, towards two doors. We stopped just before them. One door read ‘Production’ and one read ‘Product’. Dorine started up again.
‘If you fail to secure employment in phase two, you move into ‘Production’. This is where you are unfortunately killed. Your body is burnt and your organs are saved for medical purposes. We will not tour through ‘Production’. ‘Product’ is the factory part of the warehouse and it is the reason why they eat so many oats. You see, we produce fois gras from the livers of the deceased. Three years ago we changed our methods, producing fois gras for world markets. It makes sense to make money if you think about it.’
We entered ‘Product’. Within this building was a production line of tins sat on conveyor belts. The tins were cleaned, filled by hoses, sealed by masked workers and checked by a scanner.
‘This is why there are so many French restaurants in Britain.’
I threw up on my feet, Dorine provided a tissue and led me outside to where the car was parked. I didn’t look at her.
‘I know that this maybe a culture shock to you Mr Tonkin.’
I snapped, diplomacy was beyond me.
‘Christ Dorine! Christ Almighty! You’ve got thousands of people in factories searching for jobs under the threat of death! Fucking fois gras! Christ almighty! You’re a dirty bunch of bastards!’
‘I know you may be distressed!’
‘Why did you show me this?! How the fuck has Britain got a good reputation?! Do you show everyone this?! How the fuck hasn’t this been reported?!’
‘We’ll come to that.’
‘My God! How many jobs are there?!’
‘There are two hundred available at the moment.’
‘That’s it?! So nearly all of those poor fuckers will be killed?!’
‘Yes, but it means we pay less tax as there is no unemployment benefit and the people who are killed make the government money through fois gras. It also keeps the population at optimum levels, the economy has shrunk a little recently.’
I was sick again, bits splashed on me and her. I requested to be driven back to the hotel. Dorine obliged. The next day Dorine arrived at my hotel. I hadn’t slept.
‘Mr Tonkin!’
‘I want to leave.’
‘Certainly, I’ll drive you to the airport, but first we need to discuss what your report will consist of.’
‘No we don’t.’
‘Right, well, I will give you your guidelines.’ She produced a document. ‘If you could stick to the information in here then we would like that.’
‘Right.’
‘Look Mr Tonkin, I will say this once. If you include anything outside of this report, we will assassinate you, we have people in your government. You are not here to discuss the truth, you are here to sell our country to yours.’
I looked at her fat face, it stared blankly back.
‘Here is a debit card Mr Tonkin and details of an address in New York. If you write a favourable report then you should go to this address. This card will allow you to withdraw five hundred thousand dollars. This should be sufficient remuneration for your cooperation.’
‘Why did you take me there? Why not just take me back to the hotel and let me sleep, wake me up in the morning and fly me out? Why make me see it all and then make me lie to my government?’
‘Mr Tonkin, you have not seen it ‘all’ as you profess and you are an insurance policy this way. We have surveillance footage of you at the factory, therefore if the truth ever comes out, we can say that you and all of the other countries knew about the process. As the world is buying our fois gras, it looks like your governments all know about the situation and are keeping it from the people.’
I said nothing and stared blankly back at her.
Later that day I boarded the plane and returned to America. I wrote my report and resigned from my posting in Washington. I flew to New York.
Tomorrow's Chip Paper 