Worker 2 worked as an amazon delivery person and still uses amazon for their own online business. In the story, he transports us to the fictional island of Zanjara to explore questions of progress and its relationship to power and greed, to hope and radical change. Through the eyes of their central character, Kwame, the author imagines a world ruled by despots in contrast to a glorious past where Amazon ruled, celebrated by the Museum of Prime.
In the cloak of night, while the world retreated to slumber, Kwame and his cohort embarked on their clandestine activities.
Their operations involved receiving illicit shipments of drugs and engaging in the illegal trade of exotic animal skins. All of this unfolded on the isolated island known among its inhabitants as Zanjara.
Zanjara was an enclave secluded from the embrace of civilization, a place where beauty was entwined with secrecy. The ocean’s embrace painted picturesque shores, complementing the enchanting surroundings. Despite its natural splendor, this was not a land of pride or virtue. Its dominion was held by a formidable figure, a man known as Jabari. With an iron grip, Jabari controlled an online retail front that diverged sharply from the legal transactions of platforms like eBay. His enterprise thrived on drug trafficking and the merciless killing of animals.
At the heart of this operation stood his son, Kwame, a mere thirteen years old. Tasked with meticulously recording the inflow and outflow of their criminal gains, Kwame was tethered to a role that did not align with his aspirations. His gaze was set on a milestone eagerly anticipated—his imminent fourteenth birthday.
This age was more than just a number; it held the promise of freedom, a pledge his father had made to him. When Kwame reached his fourteenth year, the constraints his father had imposed would loosen, allowing him to explore beyond the boundaries of their isolated world and interact with people from distant lands.
Kwame, inherently inquisitive, seized the chance one evening as he sat beside his father, both gazing at the stars. He knew he might anger his father with his question, but he was almost fourteen, almost a man. It was time he learned the truth.
“Dad,” Kwame began, his voice earnest, “sometimes when I’m in the village I hear the men talking. They whisper about the Amazon Times, saying it was an era when they felt more free. But aren’t we free now? Why would they wish to return to those days?”
Jabari’s reaction was swift and irate. “Haven’t I cautioned you against mingling with common folk?” His anger was palpable. “Why can’t you follow my instructions?”
The stern response sent a tremor through Kwame, enough to seal his lips on the matter. It became a promise to himself, a vow to never broach the topic with his father again. Jabari’s concern was clear—he feared that the villagers might exploit Kwame’s compassionate nature, attempting to sway him against his own family. This worry was the driving force behind his insistence that Kwame keep his distance from them.
Kwame’s curiosity remained unquenched. The need to uncover the truth consumed him.
Within the confines of Zanjara lived a revered medicine man, one of the village’s eldest and most respected figures, an oracle of wisdom who held the trust of the villagers seeking his counsel. Zulu had borne witness to Zanjara’s many shifts and was well acquainted with the changing tides of the island.
On a night like any other, while the world slept, Kwame hatched a scheme. He feigned illness, tricking his father into believing he needed rest. However, this ruse concealed a deeper motive. Kwame intended to slip away and seek out the medicine man.
Arriving at Zulu’s small, thatched dwelling, Kwame’s heart raced. The dim light of a solitary candle signaled that Zulu was preparing to retire for the night. As he stood at the threshold, Kwame hesitated, then finally asked, “May I enter?”
Zulu’s response was cautious, his voice betraying his uncertainty. “What brings you to my humble abode at this hour?” Zulu knew his position as a trusted sage had kept him safe from Jabari’s wrath, but a wrong word to his son would change that.
Kwame understood that there was risk, too, but he was determined. He stepped inside and settled across from Zulu at the small table. All he wanted was to understand the past, what had come before. Why did that make his father so angry?
Zulu gazed at him thoughtfully. “Tell me boy,” he said, “how old are you now?”
“Only a month till my fourteenth birthday,” Kwame responded, his chest expanding in a proud demonstration of his impending manhood.
“Hmmm,” said Zulu, nodding sagely. “Your father does not wish you to know the truth, but I do not believe you can become a wise and fair leader if the past is hidden from you.” He paused and gazed out his small window, examining the dark sky for an omen to guide his decision as Kwame waited impatiently, hopeful.
“Very well,” Zulu’s voice carried caution. “I will share the story, but under one condition—that my life not be imperiled should your father learn of this.”
Kwame had no intention of letting Jabari know he had visited this cottage, but he also knew that his father would not cross the medicine man. He nodded his ascent, perching on the edge of the weathered stone, his eagerness palpable.
Zulu rose from the table and collected two rough-hewn cups that he filled from the pot on his small woodstove. He handed one to Kwame and then settled back into his seat. Kwame tried not to squirm in his seat as he waited for the medicine man to be ready. Finally, he took a sip from his cup and then began.
“Years before your arrival,” Zulu began, “Zanjara was a haven of serenity. Its people coexisted in a harmony like siblings. Tourists flocked here, drawn by the tales of our idyllic haven.”
As Zulu’s words flowed, Kwame sipped the bitter herbal brew, the unfamiliar taste wrinkling his brow, and listened.
Zulu continued his narrative, “Among the sources of our pride was a corporate giant: Amazon. This entity possessed the prowess to craft, distribute, and vend myriad goods. It harnessed an advanced technology known as artificial intelligence, enabling seamless production and delivery. This technology was able to anticipate people’s needs, and it brought wonders into the world.”
With a reflective gaze, Zulu recounted the company’s meteoric ascent, telling of how, as Amazon’s fortune swelled, promotions cascaded upon the workforce. Yet, a shadow tainted the pride: the rise of Jabari.
“Your father, among those elevated, harbored an insatiable greed. He yearned to hoard all he could.”
A pause hung in the air before Zulu’s voice resumed, laden with gravity, “His avarice spurred a treacherous path. He turned against his own employer, wresting control and becoming the puppeteer pulling the strings of Amazon.”
Kwame’s shock reverberated in his question, “How could my father orchestrate such a downfall?” The revelation painted a startling portrait of Jabari—one that finally shattered the thin façade Jabari had always shown to Kwame.
“Your father saw an opportunity in the shadows that Amazon cast,” Zulu continued with a somber expression. “He noticed that the power and control Amazon had amassed could be exploited for his own gain. Slowly, he started diverting resources and influence away from the legitimate operations of Amazon and channeled them into darker enterprises. The allure of wealth and dominance led him down a treacherous path.”
Kwame’s eyes widened. Of course he understood that his father led this operation, but the idea of him being the mastermind behind the island’s illegal activities was unsettling.
“Zanjara, once a place of natural beauty and communal harmony, started to change,” Zulu continued. “Amazon’s fall was a catalyst for a power vacuum, and your father saw the opportunity to exploit it. He established his underground operations, leveraging the island’s isolation and his newfound control over resources.”
Kwame’s thoughts raced as he grappled with the implications. He felt conflicted, torn between his loyalty to his father and the realization that his actions had dire consequences for the village and its inhabitants.
“Zulu, why did the villagers not stop my father?” Kwame asked. Surely there must have been something they could have done to hold onto the paradise they had created.
“Power can be a blinding force,” Zulu’s voice resonated with wisdom. “Fear, manipulation, and the allure of wealth often blind us to injustice. Your father’s ascent to power was gradual, and by the time its extent was realized, it was too late. They found themselves entangled in a web of their own making.”
As Zulu concluded his narrative, he added, “Frustration, when channeled, can spark remarkable change.” His voice held a blend of insight and reflection. “Evelyn Harper embodies this truth—an escapee from Zanjara.”
“Evelyn Harper? I don’t know that name.” Kwame’s curiosity flared.
Zulu nodded, “He wishes her forgotten on this island,” he said sagely. “Once, she was ensnared by the temptation of power, much like your father. But Evelyn chose a different path. She departed Zanjara, burdened by the shadows of what she had witnessed. She embarked on a journey to distant lands.”
With eloquence, Zulu unveiled Evelyn’s tale of redemption, weaving the story of her creation, the Museum of Prime. Kwame’s eyes widened with intrigue at the prospect of such a place—a haven of reflection and learning.
“Where does this museum stand?” Kwame’s voice held an edge of urgency and he sat up straight.
Zulu’s gaze met Kwame’s, “It stands as a testament to Evelyn’s journey, a beacon of hope where people gather to learn from the past and illuminate a brighter future.”
As the night deepened, Kwame remained a captivated listener, his emotions a whirlwind of anger, confusion, and a resolute determination to unveil the truth. While the past could never be rewritten, Kwame felt an urgent responsibility to shape a new narrative—one that could reclaim the island’s appeal and unity, while addressing the scars of history. And within this determination, the allure of the Museum of Prime grew: a place where Amazon’s original glory could be seen, and lessons learned from its fall could inspire a better tomorrow for Zanjara and beyond.
As the night deepened, Zulu’s tale reached its conclusion and a weighty silence settled over the small thatched dwelling. The air seemed charged with the weight of the revelations shared. Kwame’s mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions.
Zulu’s voice, a blend of wisdom and reflection, finally broke the silence. “Remember, Kwame, the past can serve as both a burden and a beacon. It’s up to you to choose how to carry its lessons forward.”
Kwame’s gaze met Zulu’s, gratitude and determination radiating from his eyes. “Thank you, Zulu,” he began, his voice earnest. “You’ve shared a truth I never knew existed. Now I feel a responsibility to make things right.”
Zulu nodded, a faint smile gracing his weathered face. “The future can be shaped by the choices we make today. Your path is yours to forge.”
With this final exchange, Kwame rose from his seat on the stone. “I will carry this knowledge with me,” he promised.
As he made his way back through the moonlit village, Kwame’s thoughts churned.
Homecoming brought a renewed sense of purpose. Kwame’s steps quickened, a determination to bring change fueling his every move. The promise of his upcoming fourteenth birthday felt like the key to unlocking the transformation he envisioned for Zanjara. With each passing day, the allure of the Museum of Prime grew stronger in his mind. It wasn’t just about visiting such a place; it was about understanding, about connecting the past with the present.
On the night before his fourteenth birthday, Kwame sat by the shore, the gentle waves lapping at the sand. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over Zanjara and the breeze carried with it a sense of renewal, of possibility. Kwame felt a surge of determination unlike anything he’d experienced before. The path forward was uncertain, but he was ready to face it.
And so, as the stars emerged in the velvety night sky, Kwame’s resolve burned brighter than ever. The Museum of Prime beckoned, and with it, the promise of change, redemption, and the chance to rewrite Zanjara’s story—one that would resonate not only on the island but ripple outward, inspiring transformation far beyond its shores.