How I won them all over

Dear diary,

A short note from Bryan, Emperor of Ancient Egypt, to the Reader: Before we move on, I want to make sure that you understand how enormous all those skyjacks are that I vanquished and enslaved in the previous chapter. Those things are as big as gods. So my victory should astonish you.

Now we may proceed. 

Following an afternoon nap, I pray to my Oversoul, the Egyptian Deity, saying: “O Super-Self in the outer spaces, I have a favor to ask of thee. Here are the place-names: Eagan... St. Cloud... Compton... Pennsylvania... Detroit... Maine... Iceland... Saudi Arabia... Africa... and France. What I want you to do to all these lands is freeze them shut. Thanks, from your avatar. So be it.”

Then all the afore-listed lands fall into a deep sleep and their existence slows to a halt. Everything inside them turns to snow — their landscape, their houses, their people, the pets and wildlife, even all the personal property of the ultra-rich. 

“Thanks again for hearing my prayer,” I say to my Oversoul, by way of the angel Hermes. And my Oversoul actually answers back (this is rare) with a spiritual announcement: “I granted your request because I like you.”

So I travel on foot to each of these lands and enter various abodes to ogle their goods. Anything that I like, I defrost it and take it for myself. I do this by standing before the item and performing a trick: for instance, let’s say the thing that I want is a regular snake plant, because I think that it would look good on the windowsill of my pyramid — well, all I do is take my tuning fork out of the marsupium of my wizard robe and lightly tap it: now it vibrates and the coat of ice shatters, allowing the snake plant to breathe again and move about freely. Then I take its pot under my arm, head out the front door, and stride to the next house. 

Yet, many of the items that I confiscate from frozen people’s homes in all the above areas (especially Iceland) are not even treasures that I covet for myself; rather, I place them in my Death Bag, with the plan to redistribute them. (This receptacle of mine with the terrifying name is sort of like the bright red sack that Santa Claus uses, when he delivers gifts to all the children of the Global North; except my Death Bag is black.) What happens is that, after tapping my tuning fork to shatter loose the object of my desire, I secure it within the mouth of the bag for safekeeping; Then I walk on foot to Holland and distribute my score to the womenfolk there.

So I admit that my Death Bag was christened inaptly. It should really be called the “Enter a State of Suspended Animation for Three Days and then Get Summoned Back to Existence for the Purpose of Winning Over the Hearts and Minds of the Women of the Dutch Republic of the 17th Century” Bag. My plan was to lure them to renounce their allegiance to Holland and instead become citizens of Ancient Egypt in Eternity, of which I am the Emperor. And I succeed at this goal.