Tane stumbled again and couldn’t help but vocalise a curse. The New Zealand bush was one of the densest forests in the world, and he felt in a personal battle with every tangled piece of undergrowth which was trying, and succeeding, to trip him up. He’d been far too clumsy on this trek, and was in real danger of twisting or breaking something.

That was before he factored in the stifling humidity. Under the green canopy, it really was something else, not helped by the necessary and bulky clothing that he wore. Clothing that added almost fifteen kilos to his weight before he factored in his backpack laden with water, binoculars, and an emergency first aid kid.

He took a moment to catch his breath, fanning himself with his wide-brimmed hat just to get some kind of breeze going in this airless place.

The hat was tattered and worn, just like the rest of his oversized and ripped outfit. When he looked in a mirror before he set out, he presented as a man who’d lost considerable weight but had been unable to shop for new clothes. That suited the part he needed to play, with only his boots being relatively new. They were the one practical concession that he had to make and a risk if ever noticed. Thankfully, in his experience, no-one really paid too much attention to his feet, certainly not in the bush.

Taking a tactical sip from his water bottle, he decided to move on, cursing himself when he heard the loud snap of a twig underfoot. While he wasn’t exactly going for stealth, neither was he aiming to crash around the bush like a bumbling amateur.

It had got someone’s attention. A nearby bush seemed to quiver in fury, and a moment later, the angry barrel of a rifle protruded, aimed squarely his way. Instinctively, Tane raised his arms, trying to show he meant no harm.

“I’m just passing through,” he called out.

A man stepped out awkwardly from the bush. The man was in his mid-sixties and more gaunt and dishevelled than in his bio picture from a decade ago, but this was unmistakably Tane’s mark. Tane noted that the years of living remotely had not dimmed the man’s defiant demeanour. He projected as a man who claimed ownership of everything he saw and viewed you as nothing but a trespassed.

“You need to just keep going. There’s nothing for you here,” the owner of the rifle commanded.

“I recognise you!” Tane said. Of course he did. There was no use pretending otherwise. “You’re that big shot mogul from before the strife. Elton, wasn’t it?”

Tane could read a lot in the flickering expression in the man’s face. His ego obviously appreciated not being forgotten, and yet, at the same time, he didn’t like being recognised.

He said nothing, just continued to level his weapon at the trespasser.

Tane mentally recalled his script. The certain things he needed to probe about. The other topics that he needed to reinforce.

“What happened to you, Elton? You were a bigshot tycoon when everything went mad. What are you doing here of all places?”

Elton cleared his throat, attempting to adopt a haughty tone, “Well, of course, a man like myself had a couple of options. Bolt holes. In case things went south. Which, of course, they did. But I’d planned ahead.”

“I bet you have a pretty sweet setup too, a man like you. Better than the rest of us. Bet you’re not eating barbeque rat,” Tane said, rattling through a few additional points. But this obviously caused Elton to become agitated, as a moment later Tane could hear a trigger being cocked. Tane thought it better to appease him. “It’s okay. I’m not going to tell anyone. I don’t really have anyone, just living off the bush like a lot of folk. Trying to track some deer.”

“They’re my deer, so you can just piss off,” Elton fumed. He briefly took a hand off his rifle to smack at something near his head. From the great, ugly spots that pocked his face, it looked like any mosquito repellent he’d hoarded had dried up years ago. The man probably provided a daily buffet to the countless insects of the wild.

“Okay, okay, I’ll move on.” Tane said, keeping his hands up. “Just tell me, you got any of your sweet tech working? A smart man like you, I bet you have. I’d love to watch an old movie or play an MP3.”

“No-one has got any computers working since the EMP bursts. That’s what caused society to crumble. So, no. No Star Wars movies. No Taylor Swift.”

Tane knew he had pretty much everything he needed there, but couldn’t help asking one more question. It was something he couldn’t contain his curiosity on.

“Where did it go wrong, Elton? Do you ever think if you and the other billionaires hadn’t taken so much, The Uprising wouldn’t have happened? And we’d have all been spared finding our own little bolt holes?”

“You some kind of communist? I think you need to leave. Now,” Elton said, aggravated by the question. He motioned with his rifle that Tane needed to move on.

Tane knew not to press his luck any further and turned back the way he came, keeping his gloved hands behind his head and bracing himself. He had a good idea how this would go, and Tane didn’t have to wait long before it happened.

He’d barely made a dozen steps before he felt the bullet slam into his back, dropping him to the ground as the sound of the shot echoed in the forest, causing birds all around to become startled and take to the air.

Tane lay face down, his back throbbing, thankful the mogul had just left him there, slinking away. As best as he could tell, he’d waited over fifteen minutes before moving, thankful for his department issued bulletproof vest. All those awkward and bulky fifteen kilos that were hidden under his loose clothes were a lifesaver, literally.

But even with it, the shot had hurt. He’d have a hell of a bruise in the morning, but he’d still be in the land of the living.

He sat up and opened a packet of beef jerky, taking a slow, thoughtful chew as he made mental notes of his encounter. Elton had not thought to check his body, but then that was why Tane deliberately dressed to look like he had nothing of value, except for his boots, and people like Elton didn’t think to check his feet. Few did.

Tane made his way back a little more cautiously than the clumsy way he’d arrived. He didn’t want the mogul to know he was still alive, after all.

He continued on this way for two hours, taking occasional water breaks, and applying some balm to his back as best he could. Eventually, he found himself outside of the jamming field, and his phone buzzed to acknowledge receipt of a slew of messages.

Unlike the technology inside the reserve, it was very much working, and he took it out, quickly scripting out his preliminary report, “Subject 021. Baby is still asleep. No sign of simp interference.”

He’d do a more detailed analysis once he was back in the office. They had been planning an upcoming party to celebrate the tenth anniversary of The Uprising in a couple of weeks. Before that event, the reign of the moguls had seen men like Elton owning virtually everything on the planet. History books told how their greed had known no bounds, and no matter how much they had, they wanted more. Especially in terms of competition with other moguls. They’d ratcheted the tensions of the world, always having their own Plan B in case of emergencies. B for bolt hole.

Out for their own self-interest, they’d refused any compromise when The Uprising began. They called in political favours to call in the armies and national guard, but the movement had reached a critical mass. Fearing for their safety, they’d abandoned society, taking to their private jets, and going into hiding.

In hindsight, they’d made it too easy.

Today the media made out it had been a relatively bloodless revolution, but in truth thousands had died in the riots. But the moguls had chosen to put themselves into exile. And soon the society they’d abandoned realised how easy it was to cut them off. A few EMP devices, combined with selected scrambling and suppression were all it took.

For their part, the moguls believed society had fallen apart without them, such was their ego and certainty of their relevance. And for its part, the world which had moved on without them hadn’t felt the need to correct them on that point.

It was odd to think how such a dramatic shift in power had been pulled off by something which amounted to an elaborate practical joke. And yet, here they were.

New Zealand treated the moguls in its territory as if they were subjects in a nature reserve. They were as protected and isolated as those preserves in Africa which aimed to protect lions, chimps, or gorillas. Here in the reserves of New Zealand was your last chance to see those sociopathic and dangerous men who had once owned the world.

Tane felt that they were happier this way, living in their own ignorance, and convinced they had cheated out the rest of the world. But not everyone agreed. There were some who thought it a cruel and barbaric trick to be playing. Other countries had reacted harshly. The government in Brazil had claimed that a group of revolutionaries had hunted down those families hiding within its rainforest. But a conspiracy theory claimed that the ruling party had been behind it, motivated to ensure it retained any seized assets.

Of course, it wasn’t all as simple as that. Occasionally a simp would break the rouse and alert one of the moguls to what had happened, genuinely expecting appreciation. Often, the simps would be gunned down by the very people they sought to save, being seen as raiders and subversives. It was dangerous to get yourself involved with such sociopaths; they didn’t trust anyone.

A few moguls had discovered that society had recovered and attempted to return. But they were not ready for a world which had moved on without them, that branded them criminals, and where their assets had been seized. Despite their claims of having worked up from nowhere, like a stage magician under scientific scrutiny, none of them could pull it off a second time. More than one had committed suicide.

No, it was best to leave them where they were, out of sight and out of harm. They’d set up themselves with the best farmsteads that money could buy and were more comfortable than many, even after all this time.

Still, there was an obligation to monitor them, to ensure they were still contained. Where possible, this was done from satellite reconnaissance. But the occasional personal visit helped, if for no other reason than to feed them the lie that society was still in chaos.

Many of them were definitely struggling though. Tane had met Elton three times over six years, although the mogul had never recognised him. The mogul had shot Elton in two of those three encounters, so the man probably had no reason to think it was the same person.

Elton had definitely lost weight since last time. Like many of the moguls, they had a grand plan with an expensive farm. But they’d been born into privilege with nothing but disdain for manual workers like farming. And as such, many of their farming ventures were failing. And these were the people who’d said they had the smarts to colonise other worlds!

Tane’s department would have to monitor that. If they needed to, they’d arrange some kind of food drop. Something that the mogul could attribute to their own good fortune and can-do attitude. An abandoned crate of tinned food which looked older than it was would probably do. He could also recommend releasing some additional fish and deer to the nearby habitat as additional food sources.

Still, it was odd to show such compassion to a group who’d shown little towards others. Whose obsessive hoarding had taken the world to the brink.

They wouldn’t understand it.

But then, that was why society had moved on without them.