Genocidal Organ by Project Itoh

wasn’t an easy path, but Ahmed’s group managed to forge a semblance of peace in Somalia for a while. They established a consensus that however poor, however needy, however destitute the country was, there were still fundamental principles that could not be abandoned. Children went to school and learned to read and write. Jerry-rigged armored trucks no longer patrolled the streets at night, and people could sleep peacefully again. Once that basic level of law and order had been established as a fundamental principle, the country could start focusing on its desperate poverty.”
    “What sort of natural resources does Somalia have?” asked Williams.
    Erica Sales shook her head. “Virtually none to speak of. It is possible that there are some marginal sources of income that remain undiscovered or untapped, but as of the end of the twentieth century there were no significant resources along the lines of oil, ores, or even agricultural products. Investigations were made and surveys were taken, and no potential prospects for an income stream from exports were discovered.”
    “They were screwed, in other words,” Williams continued tactfully.
    “Not true—not so long as they had their people.” Erica Sales shrugged. “Humans mean human resources, which means potential labor for hire. The UN’s Millennium Development Goals have fostered a reasonably successful track record of seeing underdeveloped, resource-poor countries achieve a level of economic stability. And the African scenery always has significant potential for tourism, given appropriate development of infrastructure. The problem is—”
    “—the country was stuck in a messy war for so long that no one wanted to invest, and all the tourists have long since been scared away, huh?” Williams interrupted.
    “Just so,” Erica Sales said with an air of finality and looked over at the undersecretary of defense.
    The USD nodded and took the stage again. “Thank you, Ms. Sales, for your thorough briefing. We will now proceed to discuss internal matters.”
    “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your time and attention.” With that, Erica Sales turned sharply and left the room without further ado. The audience watched the Pentagon style–attired PMC director as she exited.
    “Very well, ladies and gentlemen. I will be taking it from here,” the USD said, clearing his throat in such an exaggerated and pompous manner that I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from laughing.
    “So, Somalia had experienced some success in its disarmament drive and was making some progress. But the poverty and hardship continued. Some sort of drastic measure was needed to change the world’s attitude toward the country in order to attract some foreign capital. To convince the world that Somalia was once again a civilized country with an educated and willing workforce and a safe place for tourists to visit. After all, all this was true, up until a year ago at least. But it wasn’t enough that it was true—it had to be seen to be true .”
    “Public relations, in other words?” I asked.
    The USD nodded. “Exactly. Ahmed had studied International Relations at the University of Oxford, and he recognized just how powerful a factor PR was in the creation of Bosnia and Herzegovina out of the ruins of the Yugoslav Wars.”
    Hope is a powerful weapon, but exceedingly difficult to wield effectively. Wasn’t that written in some book somewhere? Well, the American people were going to have to believe in Somalia, believe that there was something to be hopeful about, if Somalia were to succeed as a nation. The American politicians in Washington were going to have to believe, as were the news networks. Lobbyists would have to be mobilized. How to achieve all this? Step onto the scene a certain PR specialist who was prepared to take Somalia on as a client.
    A press conference was held in Washington. Somalia’s cabinet ministers were trotted out. They were granted an audience with key