The Radio Murders: The Collectors by Chuck Collins
Interview with Elias Barbicas, of Elafonisos, Greece
What is your story?
That is something I have been trying to learn for the past ten days. I thought I knew, I thought the world was crystal clear, just as my place in it. But now I’m not so certain. I know I was raised by the Collectors, and that my father is a member of that group. Though I went to school in Johannesburg, South Africa, The Collectors taught me almost everything I know. They taught me how to kill. My story is about the next ten days and it is called The Radio Murders: The Collectors.
Who are you?
My name is Elias Barbicas, and I am a professional ghost and ghost maker.
Where do you live?
Are you the hero of your own story?
I’d like to think so, but in reality I am usually the villain.
What is your problem in the story?
I must retrieve the Collectors property, and though I know what it is, I’m not so sure why it is so important. Wealth is not a priority with the Collectors, at least not anymore. They have everything.
Do you embrace conflict?
I am conflict.
How does the author see you?
As a problem, like most see me, if they see me at all, if I am not the last person they see. He knows I should not be so attractive, yet he gives me extraordinary skill. He knows I should be locked up, or dead, yet he gives me incredible freedom. He knows he should hate me, yet he surrounds me in luxury. He knows I should be cold-blooded, yet he gives me a soul.
What are your achievements?
I am fluent in 9 languages, I have conceived my own form of martial arts, I have a near perfect memory, I am accomplished in tantric practices including sex, breath control and heart rate (these come in quite handy). I can command a room or enter and leave without anyone knowing I was there.
What do you want?
What do you need?
To succeed; though that means different things to different people in my story. The Collectors want their prize. I want to know why they want it so badly, why I must destroy so many to get it, and what makes this goal so special when they have, as I said, everything. I also need to know who I am. I am not really one of them even though they call me a prince. It is time I learned who I am.
Have you ever failed at anything?
Until now, no.
Has anyone ever failed you?
The Collectors have failed me. My father has failed me. He thought he was being clever, always so clever, but instead of gaining an exceptional son and heir to the Collection, he may have given birth to its redeemer. He would like the biblical reference, enough to mock it. How the Collectors have failed me is the story, and like all they do it is monumental.
What was your childhood like?
I was raised and schooled at The Main, the Collectors central compound. I had tutors in every area of study. The First Collector, Sinn Re, oversaw my training. My father would visit for several weeks in the winter and most of the summer. At the age of 12 I was sent to a special school in a remote village outside of South Africa’s largest city. I am mixed race, and though it is not obvious, the people there seem more in tuned with that sort of thing. It was there I first killed a human being. I was 14, we were in a suburb at a festival when a group of boys, young men, really, approached us and told us to get out. He called me and my friends a name, a word I will never forget, “mousie.” Then he made the fatal mistake of raising a piece of re-bar, threatening us. It was a weapon of choice among white thugs in that confused nation. It fit nicely just below his chin line and into his sinus cavity. I could have rammed it into his cervical curve, roughly between C2 and C3, causing him very little pain, but I wasn’t in a charitable mood.
What in your past had the most profound effect on you?
My past is my past and I don’t dwell on it. However there was one event in the last ten days that seemed to begin my journey, my soul-searching, if you like. I was convincing a gentleman, Howard Murad, that is would be in his best interest to tell me where the Collector’s property was located. I did it in an elegant way, I thought at first, placing a saline drip bag that was feeding into his veins into a bucket of boiling water. It is quite effective in changing one’s attitude. He was helpless, pathetic and probably knew nothing. But suddenly I found the process appalling, evening sickening and stopped the pain. I’m not sure why I did that, but it was the first in a line of similar shortcomings. Profound? Yes, and quite costly.
If you had the power to change one thing in the world that didn’t affect you personally, what would it be?
I have learned a long time ago that we can only change ourselves. But if I could change others it was be to show them how deadly and useless greed really is. I have access to literally everything. My benefactors have everything, yet they stop at nothing to get the one thing they cannot have, that no man or woman has ever had. And in their relentless struggle to achieve the impossible, they leave behind nothing but horror and destruction. I have seen it, I have caused it. I am finished with it.