Hostile Takeover

Dr. Phiri made sure he was emotionally comfortable. ‘So in the vision, or the dream, there was a company that apparently was your father’s employer and your entire family was deceased, and you planned to take down this particular company by robbing its reserves.’ ‘Planting counterfeit money and framing it.’ Arista corrected. ‘Fascinating,’ Dr. Phiri reacted. ‘I know, unbelievable.’ ‘So you got imprisoned, and you had a lawyer that fought for you, both for lesser prison time and to take down the company for you.’ ‘Yes.’ Arista responded. ‘And you had a psychologist to help you mentally, in prison.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And it was this psychologist that told you to imagine yourself where you want to be and that’s when you woke up.’ ‘Yes.’ Arista responded. ‘Have you ever learned Amharic, Mr. Loma?’ Dr. Phiri asked. ‘What’s Amharic?’ Arista asked. ‘It’s a language, an Ethiopian language, spoken as a first language in most major cities and towns of Ethiopia,’ Dr. Phiri replied. ‘Oh, I had never heard of that language before, why?’ Arista asked inquisitively. ‘I studied theology and psychology in Ethiopia, I lived there for six years.’ ‘And Mr, I have been studying the details of your vision you had written for me all night. I kid you not when I say it’s encoded not only with parables and metaphors, but also with anagrammed words; in Amharic language,’ Dr. Phiri explained. ‘Really?’ he asked. ‘What was the name of your lawyer?’ Dr. Phiri asked. ‘Um, Mr. Suseyi.’ Arista replied. ‘And the state advocate?’ ‘Mrs. Ey Imela.’ ‘And the judge?’ ‘Judge Iynen.’ A frown of confusion was developing on Arista’s forehead. ‘What about your therapist in prison?’ Dr. Phiri pressed. ‘Dr. Isefinem Isudik.’ ‘Now tell me Mr. Loma, do those appear to be normal names?’ Dr. Phiri asked. Arista developed a blank stare trying to make sense of it. ‘Now that you mention it, no, not all,’ he replied. ‘They’re some kind of anagrams, they’re all backwards,’ Dr. Phiri decoded. ‘How?’ Arista asked in confusion. ‘Suseyi reads backwards as Iyesus; it’s Amharic for Jesus.’ ‘Iynen read backwards is Nenyi; it’s Amharic for I am.’ Arista was stupefied. ‘Imela reads backwards as Alemi; it’s Amharic for World.’ ‘And your therapist, Isefinem Isudik, read backwards is Menifesi Kidusi; it’s Amharic for Holy Spirit.’ ‘And your unborn child’s name? Inafuz? Read backwards is Zufani and its Amharic for Throne.’ Dr. Phiri said, folding his arms and leaning back. Arista was just starting. ‘Are you telling me I was visited by God in a vision?’ He finally spoke. ‘You tell me Mr. Loma, what are the chances of your mind creating a whole narrative; depositing a language you have never come across before and encoding it in such a way that only someone who has spent years learning the language can decode?’ ‘What are the chances that, that someone just happens to be me; a psychologist and theologian?’ Dr. Phiri said smiling. ‘So what is it, a message?’ Arista asked, still in disbelief. A frown of confusion still on his face. ‘I believe so yes, oh, and there’re some English words there too.’ ‘Like the Noisiv, it’s just Vision read backwards.’ ‘And the owner of the company, Atsira Amol, can you guess?’ Dr, Phiri asked. Arista thought for a moment. ‘Atsira Amol, Arista Loma? It’s me?’ ‘Isn’t that crazy? I bet you were expected to catch that one quicker than you have.’ ‘Hold on, but why would that be me? This makes no sense?’ he asked. He felt like his entire world just blew up in his face, then got recreated again. He knew God existed, but he couldn’t believe what this man was telling him. ‘Did God really speak with me? What does he want? Why now? Is this true?’ he thought. ‘Don’t worry Mr. Loma, we’ll figure it out. Right now, let’s have some lunch. It appears to be a deep message,’ Dr. Phiri said, standing up. The rain was pelting the windscreen so much that the wipers were in full function. Looking out, the atmosphere was misty and probably cold, but it was warm in the car. He drew out his phone and pressed the power button, the backlight flickered on, it was four pm. ‘Make a right here, then just follow the road, I’ll tell you where to turn.’ Arista spoke. ‘Okay, are you going right at Pala Park or just near?’ the cab driver asked. ‘Right on the premises,’ Arista replied. ‘Okay then, I think it’s best we use Jomo Kenyatta, it's quicker.’ The Cab driver advised. ‘Alight cool.’ Arista was feeling resolute. He was still in shock, but it made sense now, it was the only thing that made sense. He thought back to thirty minutes. ‘The company, Noisiv, is merely a representation of your distorted mind, perception, vision. It’s a representation of a recreated, fabricated fate and your counterpart, Mr. Atsira Amol is you that’s been fashioned from this distortion. From beliefs, misinformation and false Dogma,’ Dr. Phiri had said. ‘He is the person that has been helplessly suffering and constantly asking the question why me. He is the person that has been doubting, procrastinating and loathing himself for shortcomings. He is the person that fell weak and committed suicide.’ ‘He is the you that you have been since you became aware of pain, suffering, lack, heartbreak and all the evils of a fallen earth.’ ‘He was not always like that, society and all the systems created to e*****e it, made him that way. Information, media, a lot of things that you would have thought to be merely entertainment and education made him that way and distorted his vision, his perception, his life, his fate.’ ‘He didn’t stand a chance.’ ‘And you robbing the bank, or planting the counterfeit money in an attempt to bring down the company is a depiction of the fact that you have been trying to escape the simulation.’ ‘A sign that even though you haven’t been fully aware, you have always known something was eerily mismatched. The state advocate stands for the worldly systems, rules, regulations, operations that have always stood against you and have always limited your chances; things like financial resources, institutions, policies, standards, narratives.’ ‘The judge stands for the justice, sovereignty and fair-mindedness of God and your attorney stands for your redemption.’ Dr. Phiri had continued. ‘The entire court depiction is an announcement of your vindication, a sign of God’s intervention in your matters.’ ‘Your lady, Patra, was a symbol of God’s kingdom, passion, purity and patience, and the wedding scene was a depiction of the innermost fear of losing it as well as your constant rebuttal whenever you’re cast out by your shame.’ ‘Your unborn daughter symbolizes the birth of your dominion, your rulership. It is a sign that you must get back on track and assume control over your mind, and your entire life.’ ‘Prison is your captivity, which is where you have been most of your life. And your therapist is the Spirit of God, a sign that even in your darkest of moments, he has always been there; comforting and guiding.’ ‘The buy-out that Jesus brought about, is announcing your freedom, your take-over, your victory. It is also a reminder that he is still your savior, he will always be your savior.’ Dr. Phiri had strongly emphasized. ‘The way I see it, Mr. Loma, you’re not here to restore your mental health. I believe your depression was dealt with when you were under. You’re here to have the message interpreted,’ Dr. Phiri had said. ‘What you encountered, a dream, a vision, a trance or whatever you’d like to call it, is extraordinary, and I believe you’ve been wholly restored, revived and empowered.’ ‘I have never seen it or heard it happen the way it has happened to you.’ Arista reached into his pocket and drew out a card he had been given. On it was written, Dr. Phiri, and a cell number and address right below. ‘Feel free to stop by or call anytime,’ he had said to Arista. ‘That would be one-hundred twenty kwacha.’ The driver said. ‘Oh right, here.’ Arista hadn’t realized they had arrived. ‘Thank you so much,’ he said upon disembarking. The rain hadn’t stopped, it was still showering with the volume that would soak you in minutes. He rushed in and found shelter under the first floor bar and restaurant. There were only a few people, it took only a few seconds for him to spot them; Patra was waving at him. ‘Hey, how was it?’ She asked as they hugged. ‘I’ll tell you all about it.’ He replied with a smile. ‘Hello Mom, everyone.’ ‘Hello my son, here’s your coffee.’ ‘Arista hey, how are you not soaked?’ His entire family was there, they looked so happy. He got his coffee and sat beside Patra who placed her left hand on his thigh and smiled at him.