It’s not about the money—it never is. For Gregson, great wealth, was having the world by the balls. It’s not power over people that matters, but being able to rocket-fuel your life. Before money was created, a man could go anywhere, without limits. Now, money controlled everything. Fences separated neighbors, and people became willing slaves—all their decisions made with money in their minds—workhorses, and not the free stallion that was Gregson.

He was sweating like a wild horse at the top of the mountain.

“The opening is there,” the Father pointed. The cave was instantly cold, supercooled by the ocean gushing up from the deep.

“We’ll dive for it.” They jumped into the water, swimming down. Chests of Spanish Galleons and Jewels overflowed into the sand—red, and green, and clear diamonds. When they swam to the surface, they noticed cocaine packed against the walls like sandbags.

“Looks like we found a drug dump,” the Father said. “Think of all the work and lives lost, with the treasure just beneath the surface. That’s a metaphor for wisdom—the truth out of sight, for those who don’t seek it.”

“HOLD IT! Back up slowly, into the sun.”

They walked out, blinded by the light.

“You can fight me, or you can take one in the head, right now!” The silhouette threw his gun into the grass.

“I’ll fight you to the death,” Gregson said. “It’s better than living, and being dead at the same time.” The drug-runner was wearing a black gee, striking Gregson with a roundhouse. Gregson faltered. Being hit, jogged his memory. He remembered Jujitsu from Muscles and Thongs—his mind was centered. When the first fist struck his face, he countered with a Jujitsu throw, and the man left the mountain, like a bird with broken wings—screaming, all the way down.

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