Howdy everyone. Politics are for the birds. Who’s up for a little paranoid journey into heart of Radon Internet? Me neither, but that’s what I wrote. Luv u.
“Here at Radon, we like our disruption with a side of following the rules,” Pie Hand said through his plastic smile. My lunch break exceeded its allotted 14 minutes and my supervisor was sure to get reprimanded by his supervisor if my insolence hadn’t been collected.
Neglecting discipline would be sure to make a paper trail of notes and xeroxed emails up the chain of command large enough to choke a horse.
Months later, somewhere high up in a glass building, my supervisor’s name and his immediate subordinate’s (yours truly) would slide onto the surface of cool granite, monolithic desk overlooking the East China Sea. Radon Internet has a diplomatic carveout from the ‘Taiwanese government’ as it were, and are allowed to exact punishment as they see fit. For an offense of petty tardiness and a failure to repudiate, we’d likely be hanged. Or worse — canned.
“Yeah, uh, sorry, Mr. Hand,” still choking on self-loathing and a bout of depression as I wiped my mouth.
The hum of the fluorescent lighting and the intermittent pulsing of the AC was making me sick. My training for the Executive Sales Position (Possible Light Travel Required) had only just begun and I was already regretting the ten-year contract I signed.
I mean, they treated me like a top Major League prospect straight out of high school. Despite no discernible talents and no real prospects, they treated me like Mike Trout; told me they’d build the team around me and made me their franchise player. I should’ve asked more questions.
After my employment papers had been filed at the Radon Headquarters in China, Maine — no kidding — I was shuttled onto a bus, whisked onto an airplane, and promptly flown approximately 3,000 miles south to the land of the equator.
Isla Puná is the second largest island in Ecuador. Eclipsed by the Galapagos, home of the theory of evolution and Darwin’s little birds, in terms of size and notoriety, Isla Puná boasts the Radon Internet Western Hemisphere Training Facility and the cutest little tapas restaurant this side of the Andes.
“Have you heard of the narcotics-peddling, paramilitary political group Hezbollah?” Pie Hand patiently asked while his powerpoint presentation queued. I hadn’t.
“Well, you see, Hezbollah is based out of Lebanon in the Middle East, but successfully has established networks in neighboring countries like Iraq and Syria, and across the globe in parts of Africa, Europe, North America and South America. Principally, Venezuela.”
A map of South America loads on the screen. A green AK-47, symbolizing the impressive transnational organization, hovers over what I presume to be Venezuela. Red letters spelling ‘You are here’ are placed just off the Ecuadorian coast in the Pacific Ocean. Good to know, thanks.
“Hezbollah maintains a training and distribution hub on Margarita Island off the shores of Hugo Chavez’s, peace be upon him, country of Venezuela,” Pie Hand continued. “The group has been able to achieve great success with this logistical operation, and in fact, has inspired the executives here at Radon Internet to create our own Hezbollah Hideout so-to-speak.”
“Is that what they really call it?” I managed to ask.
“No,” Pie Hand laughed, “It’s just a little joke we have. Hezbollah Hideout and Radon Reef.” He paused, waiting for acknowledgement of the joke which eventually came by way of a less-than-eager cough and smirk. “Here at Radon Internet, we like our disruption with a side of levity!”
Pie Hand looked around the room. In the corner, where the walls meet the ceiling, there was a fly caught in a spider’s web. The kind you only notice when something has been caught in it. The spider was inching in as the fly twitched; moments away from grim death.
He’d only flown in with the wind, on the promise of stale bread or a half-eaten banana in the cafeteria’s trash. How could he have known what lay in wait? His demise wasn’t around every corner in this immaculately kept office building, it was only in this one, the office’s scarcely used tertiary geographical presentation room. The one he just happened to fly clumsily into, the one in which he got stuck. The one in which he would currently be contemplating his mistakes during his final moments of life, if only he had the brainpower.
Pie Hand cleared his throat. “Did I mention Ecuador has no extradition policy with the United States?”