The Chronicler has much to say to people today.

“The people of Zerual are a trusting lot. They are fair and content to live their lives. These people make the best prey,” the Chronicler began. This night was rainy and dreary. The dampness seeped into the bones of the old and the very young. He used his environment to accentuate his words. The mood for a dreary story reached an apex. He thanked God for the slow-falling rain and for the large drops that made a lot of noise when they struck the tin roofs, the wooden slates, and the large puddles. He would have to talk louder than normal and he would lose his vocal range, but it would not outweigh his emotional impact.

He continued. “The best way to control people is to supply their needs so they can pursue higher endeavors. With a benefactor giving them food and clothing, they can focus on leisure and art. The local businessman will shift his focus from supplying staples of life to charming items. Craftsmen will shift from functional, practical goods and tools to frail works of art. Food providers will shift their output from healthy, hearty dining to frilly eye candy. Oh, the real menial jobs will remain, but they will be shifted to the least educated members of society.

“Once this has been established for a generation or two, the real control can slam down. Those used to this supply from their benefactors will demand it as a right. They deserve what they are given, no matter the personal cost. They even sacrifice the real wealth of the country to obtain it. ‘Those rich people are only that way from our labor.’ The sinister leader swoops onto the scene and feeds the rabble their marching orders. They gladly obey, for they will lose their needs if they are not given them. They have no self-sufficiency. They have no sense of true worth. They have shifted their focus from God blessing them to the other benefactor. They will do anything to keep what they need. This is the way Zerual fell.”

The rain pattered. No one spoke. The Chronicler took a deep breath. “Let me weave you a tale of ultimate deceit. The people of Zerual never knew they were slaves, even when they were killing one another.…”