There are Some Things you Just Don't Joke About

Richie Hawtin - Concept 1 (reinterpretation 1 by Akufen)

Requesting to land offshore twenty minutes before the wedding, pilot Joe Spears scratched at his trouser leg and worried about the safety of his distinguished passengers and their ludicrous cargo upon arrival in the small fishing village of Soufriere. He had a deep, almost intuitive grasp of the politics of anxiety and knew that trouble had been long brewing in this part of the Carribean. From his friends he had heard tales of flame and public floggings - of secret elections, of vast societies operating in silence behind closed doors, of the desecration of public buildings and the open denouncement of once revered institutions. Rubbish piled up in the streets, while the rule of unions had kept the roads empty of buses and hearses. Whole families where unknowingly divided as their unseen commitments worked their ways against each other. A not inconsiderable wealth of forces that indulged in a play of energy and light away from the inept interlocutions of official government - which, besides, lacked hermeneutic charity and had lacked credibility since the approval of financially divisive reforms that favoured caste over coinage. Not that anyone placed any hope in trade: this was a violence obscured by principle. A rhetoric of blood had prevailed. Once, the people had called for better care of the sick, clans had united in favour of psychiatry, the dominant medicines were eyed with suspicion. Such loud and righteous voices had sunk into whispers - no one had time to quibble over presuppositions when land and food was at stake. Most of all he worried that the violence would exceed its boundary - the Church, the Clinic, the Military (the traditional apparatuses of state power upon this troubled isle) wouldn't remain quiet forever. Perhaps they were preparing a strike of their own. And all this a backdrop for more pressing professional matters. Did the occasion really demand the slaughter of nineteen goats? And the means to the slaughter seemed characteristically brutal and inept. There was no way they'd survive such a fall. Covered in green paint they could hardly please anyone at the dinner table. They'd be left there, where they landed, probably for weeks. It seemed so damn silly, just like everything else.