When the sun was setting on our plantation, it meant that dinner time was approaching. We were moving away from our positions. We stood and waited until the Lord came to us. He used to come late and drunk, deadly serious and eternally angry. Before we could all have a meal, he was checking fruits of the whole day's effort. If progress was insufficient, he sentenced those chosen randomly to flogging. Once the Lord tied a poor black woman to a pole and ordered me to beat her until her ass was drained with blood. At that time, a gun to my head was attached and he watched as a kurbash wounded her body to tendons. After the festival of violence, he read the Bible to us. When he had asked everyone about the sermon, everyone could get a portion of cold food and rest before the next day of the hard time. Everyone had to have their own interpretation. Otherwise, he or she had to spill his or her dinner. At six o'clock in the morning we sat down on our laptops to do more and more projects. During that time, the Lord has been negotiating new projects or recruiting new blood for our sect. Two hundred and thirty of us were in our first year. We were coming back from college, like we are now, after dark. Wild capitalism took us to a plantation where investments were born in our pains.