[ WP ] The Government and Media have been lying and North Korea is actually a super advanced , peaceful Utopia . You 're an American who just crashed landed a boat in North Korea .

“ You ’ re alive and just in time. This is excellent. Very excellent. ” 
 
 Arthur had a tremendous headache. It felt like his skull was cracking in half from a pressure inside. His brain was being tortured and bruised from all sides. 
 
 The voice came as a warble, caught somewhere between his ears and his brain. The first thing he saw when he sat up was a jungle of bouquets. The first thing he did when he sat up was vomit into the closest bundle of roses. 
 
 “ You are still a little hurt, but it is ok. You will be fine for the big event tonight! ” 
 
 Arthur spun around for the source of the voice. Peaking above a heavy bouquet of tulips was a round, jolly face. His Asiatic eyes smiled in pure bliss and wonder. 
 
 “ I have never seen an American before. I can ’ t believe they have not fattened you up like a cow, like all the rest. Though you are sick. You must have just come in search of one of our refugee camps. We will bring you there soon, but first you must join us for the event. ” He said through a thick, soupy accent. 
 
 “ Do you know where you are? ” Another voice chirped. There was another figure, hidden in another bouquet of carnations. She emerged through the white and soft pink of the flowers, as delicate and pink as if she were one of them. 
 
 “ North Korea right? There was an accident. I remember the water beating me over the head. ” Arthur didn ’ t recognize his own voice for a moment. 
 
 “ That ’ s right. Very good. Please come with us. ” They hoisted Arthur by his arms, and pulled him into a sleek wheelchair that had all the makings of a sports car. 
 
 “ The royal treatment for the wounded American? ” He laughed, searching for his cigarettes. Embarrassed he realized he was silk pajamas and not the button down shirt his ex-wife gave him two Christmases ago. 
 
 “ Your clothes are drying, Arthur. ” The woman said. The jolly fellow was bouncing in tow, singing something lively. Patients started to poke their heads out of their own hospital beds. Everything smelled of lemons and alcohol. It was clinical without being sterilizing. 
 
 Then there was a shift of doors, swinging lights, movement, smiling faces, and strobes, as if he were caught in a glitch. He moved into the bright sunlight with a chorus of girls dressed in fresh white linens singing a song in their tongue. Their language bounced off the towering heights of buildings. Everything had been built new. Everything had been scrubbed and power-washed as if just for him. He noticed a car door open, and he was lifted down the stairs and thrown into the plush leather seats. 
 
 Then there was another face of another man. 
 
 “ There was a while where we thought we lost you, but we have the best medicine in the world here. All pulled from natural substances. The West fights us on it, because our medicine would cure and treat the worst ailments across the seas. The business of death would foreclose, so they keep us out. They think it is better to make those who suffer pay for treatments that prolong the suffering. They choose their own way. ” The man had a short haircut with cropped sides, a nautical tie, and a freshly ironed blue serge suit. His accent was charming, and he smelled of boyhood ideas of masculinity. 
 
 “ No matter. No matter. ” He sighed. “ Are you ready? Are you excited? ” 
 
 Arthur scratched his head. There was a thick, canvas bandage dewy with blood. 
 
 “ For what? ” Said Arthur. 
 
 “ Oh, they didn ’ t tell you? That ’ s fine. That ’ s fine. We ’ re almost there. ” 
 
 Arthur didn ’ t have the energy to reply. He was laconic with nausea and jet lag. He thought he ’ d never get a chance to write his story. 
 
 He watched the city stream by in organized rows of cheering crowds, streamers of color sprayed from the monolithic skyscrapers, banners sprung up in vibrant symbols, like some ancient hieroglyphic. In between his opening and closing eyes, he captured snaps of healthy and happy human beings, snaps of food, snaps of pleasure, snaps of prosperity and endurance. The oddest part to him was that it didn ’ t seem at all odd. It was a new country, with a new people. His eyes closed again. He couldn ’ t fight them open. 
 
 When the car stopped he was pulled out, placed in another chair, and wheeled behind a curtain. The blinding, spastic light of cameras jerked like a psychotic strobe. A cheer erupted and it was so loud that he thought it would shake him apart. It became beyond sound. It was just a reaction now in his bones. 
 
 On stage with him was a man in a clean, ironed suit. With a brandishing stick he pointed to Arthur, and Arthur shook his head. Not to say yes, not to say no, just to agree that he was Arthur. Then the roar of the crowd grew. He didn ’ t think it was possible, but it began to shake the stage with such force that he was concerned about it holding. The amphitheater looked like it was about to crumble and implode from the vibrations. His teeth began to chip away, buzzed smooth by the friction. Then it lifted all at once. 
 
 Arthur turned around, and he saw 12 rockets crack into the atmosphere. 
 
 “ Where are those going? ” Arthur said to the blue serge suit. 
 
 “ To America. ” 
 
 “ Why? ” Arthur said without reaction. He didn ’ t think of America as the home of his ex-wife, or Greg Summers, his editor, or Michael Horrick, his dentist. America was just a concept, swimming in his bandaged head. 
 
 “ Because when you see something suffer for so long, you just want to put it out of its misery. ” 

