The Republic of Wine

owl, sending shivers down the boys’ spines as they turned to see what was wrong. What they saw was the little demon squatting atop the artificial hill, irradiated by red moonbeams. His red clothes looked like a fireball. The man-made waterfall on the hillside shimmered like red satin as it cascaded beautifully and continuously into the pool at the foot of the hill. Water splashed noisily like strings of cherries.
    The children were no longer looking at the moon; instead, they huddled together and gaped at him in stupefaction.
    Children,’ he said in a low voice, ‘prick up your ears and listen to what your sire has to say. That gizmo, that thing that looks like a proud red steed, is not a mama and it’s not an auntie. It’s a ball, a celestial being, one that revolves around us, and its name is simply “moon”!’
    The children looked at him uncomprehendingly.
    He jumped down off the artificial hill, and as he did, his baggy red clothes billowed in the wind, transformed into a pair of grotesque wings.
    Clasping his hands behind him, he paced back and forth in front of the children. From time to time he wiped his mouth with his sleeve or spit on the glossy stone floor. Suddenly he stopped, raised an arm that was thin as a goat’s leg, and waved it in the air.
    ‘Listen to me, children,’ he said sternly. ‘You have never been human beings, not since the day you were born. Your parents sold you, like pigs or goats! So from now on, I’ll stomp anyone who cries for his mommy or daddy!’
    He shook his clawlike hand and roared at the top of his lungs. The moon lit up his pale little face, from which two green lights emerged. Two of the boys burst into tears.
    ‘No crying!’ he screamed.
    Reaching into the cluster of children, he dragged out the two crying boys and drove his fist into each of their little bellies, sending them thudding to the floor, where they rolled around like basketballs.
    He laid down the law: ‘I’ll do the same to anybody I catch crying!’
    The huddle of children grew tighter. None dared to cry.
    ‘Just wait,’ he said. ‘Leave the search for brightness up to me.’
    He immediately commenced a search of the strange and very large room, hugging the walls like a prowling cat. Near the door he stopped and looked up at four lamp cords hanging in a row from the ceiling. He reached up, but the cords were a good three feet from the tip of his middle finger. He jumped a couple of times, but even with plenty of spring in his legs, he barely halved the distance. So, moving away from the wall, he dragged over a willow tree welded out of iron, climbed to the top, then grabbed the lamp cords and gave them a hard tug. With a crackle, all the lights in the room snapped on. There were neon lights, incandescent lamps, tungsten lamps, white lights, blue lights, red lights, green lights, and yellow lights. There were lights on the walls, lights in the ceiling, lights on the artificial hill, and lights on the artificial trees. The lights were blinding and multi-hued, like heaven and earth in a fairy-tale world. Forgetting their miseries and their worries, the children clapped and shouted joyously.
    The little demon curled his lip derisively as he marveled over the masterpiece he had created. Then he went to the corner, where he picked up a ring of brass bells and shook them vigorously. Peals rang out, drawing the boys’ rapt attention. He wrapped the bells, which seemed to have been put there just for him, around his waist, spit out a mouthful of phlegm, and said:
    Children, do you know where all this light comes from? No, you don’t. You’re from remote, backward villages where you smash rocks to make fire, so of course you don’t know where it comes from. I’ll tell you. The source of this light is called electricity.’
    The children listened without making a peep. The red moon had receded from the room, leaving behind a row of gleaming eyes. The two boys who had been knocked to the ground climbed to their feet.
    Is electricity good?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes, it is!’ the boys replied in unison.
    ‘Am I talented or aren’t I?’
    ‘Yes, you are!’
    ‘Are you going to do as I say?’
    ‘Yes, we are!’
    ‘All right, children, do you want a daddy?’
    ‘Yes, we do!’
    ‘Starting today, I’ll be your daddy. I’ll protect you, I’ll teach you and I’ll supervise you. Anyone who disobeys me will be drowned in the pool. Do you understand?’
    ‘Yes, we do!’
    ‘Call me Daddy three