In countries no bigger than Texas like the Central African Republic, the emergence of Revenants had created even more stratified conditions than those in the States. Factions in decades of civil war had been obliterated overnight by one chance activation, and it had been one of the first countries with a presidential Revenant.
A city like this, with industry & charity, could now access a part of life in the first world. Factories burnt coal and dropped toxicants in to the rivers until the trees wilted & the grass shrunk in to husks that the ranchers' livestock would not touch. To many in countries like these, environmentalism was a Western enemy contrasted by Western businesses who had little reason to argue against them. The mines that ripped gemstones up by their roots had become a fact of this country, leaving cyclones below the core of the rolling savanna.
Yet they were not fully industrial. Miles from the city, two young boys sat on the porch of a wooden house, listening to a radio playing commentary from the stadium beyond where the dirt road turned in asphalt. They watched their father tune the motor of a tractor as the sound of afternoon traffic crept up ahead behind the recently-built apartments. He told them that many in the city planted flowers in boxes and hung them outside their windows, bringing nature to them. The farmers were the lucky ones - they never left it.
Their eyes alive with curiosity, they saw five weirdos pass by in a noisy Jeep.
+++
Yuruko had asked for a trip in to the capital to backup her work again. Through some difficulty and as Urasaria's president, Mia had arranged for an in-person meeting with the president of the C.A.R., but had to settle for a phone call in their hotel room.
"It's on." said Mia, setting it on speaker with the others with her.
"Yes, Ms. Swarm." replied a man's voice. "You said that you have something important to our country - something Revenant-related?"
"Yes. May I start?"
"One moment. Allow me to translate."
He spoke in French, and another man's voice replied likewise. The translator said: "Yes. Go ahead."
Mia relayed their theory with Mr. Sharp, asking if they had any leads as to where he was. She heard the president's French reply to the translator's English, who after a short conversation, said evenly: "We are aware."
"You're aware? Do you know where he's hiding, then?"
French, then English.
"We do not know where he is hiding, and we do not care. We are aware of the infected. Ronald Sharp is a heavy investor in our infrastructure, protection, clean water -- and unlike our European business partners, he has never asked for more in return but a few teenagers with Revenants."
A feeling of rage arose in Mia. "Those are fucking children's lives you're talking about. I could reveal this to everyone in the government -- the States government. I can't fucking believe that-"
" - why is what America believes any concern of ours?" said the translator, then apologized to him, who spoke, then relayed. "If you go to your government and tell them, then perhaps you will have a scandal on your hands. But what you fail to realize is that your government has many, many scandals as well. I have spoken with the Communist Party of China myself. Your government says that they keep the Muslim population in camps, that they harvest their organs and sell them on the black market. This affects nothing in China. They tell me that in your government, students have killed more civilians than criminal Revenants, that many students rape women with no consequences. Are these things true? I do not know, and I do not care. Business cares nothing for morals, and faced between what is good for this country or what is good, I will always choose what is good for this country. Morality is a luxury we cannot afford."
"You're fucking lucky this isn't in-person." said Mia.
"We will not give you any resources to help you find him, but I will not hide him myself, either. I will allow the natural progression of events to occur. I do not do this because of morality, but because you and your squadron would make far more of a mess if I protected him. We have nothing more than that to discuss."
"We-"
- he hung up and Mia stomped.
"Bitch." muttered Yuruko.
"They've confirmed he's in this country, at least." coughed Matoi.
"…we could try to track the brightness again, but…" Mia frowned. As a host, even more violent fantasies filled her head than the ones you likely are concocting now; some she could even executed.
Matoi coughed again as she waved to the bathroom, and they heard her vomiting once she closed the door.
"Country's about as big as Texas, too." frowned Samuel.
"…make far more of a mess." muttered Mia. "They obviously know his location. There has to be something we can do to force it out of them. … And while I'm not opposed to murdering them, I would prefer something else."
"Think some terrorism would work?" said Samuel. "I'm serious."
"Yes, but we can't hurt civilians."
"I have an idea." said Serena, looking at Yuruko.
++++++
For ten years, Berhanu had run one of the most expensive restaurants in the C.A.R.. This plot of land thirty years ago had been where the man now president had fought himself against, official history said, three or four Revenants, but in attracting customers this number was always doubled.
Today, two women had come in without reservations and demanded in atrocious French to be served. The masks they wore were a little odd, but, worrying they were hosts when they refused to leave, he decided to serve them anyway. After they finished eating, he cocked his head to one side as if he were deferentially listening and came up to their table.
"(We are finished.)" said one, looking at her phone to translate. "(This is tip.)" She handed over a bag of diamonds.
"(Do not one location spend.)" said the other, handing over a bag of francs.
++++++
It struck Tenjadi odd how quickly this country had changed. His father had worn down his years in a sunburnt field and could read two or three words by the time he died. Even as someone not too smart himself, he often thought of what he would think looking at this place now. The more money came in to this area, the less it was looking like Africa. There eventually might come a time where the world would be filled by cities cut from the same quilt and the borders would disappear along with all distinction between cultures, religions and attitudes. Hopefully he'd be dead by then.
That afternoon, two women wearing bizarre masks, feminine with enormous, cartoonish eyes, stepped in to his bank's lobby.
"(Reverse robbery!)" shouted one, pulling a burlap sack out.
"(Do not money give, penis soaker!)" shouted the second, digging her hands in to the bag and pulling out a million francs.