The Elders (Short Story)

Journal Entry: The Elders

We call them Elders, simply because they never die until they’re of an elderly age. No one, not even they, themselves, knew they had special powers. In fact, it wasn’t until there was such a large concentration of them in relatively small areas that anyone even began to notice they had powers that were out of the ordinary.

It is not that they are immortal; far from it, in fact. They are susceptible to illness, injury, pain, aging, and they will eventually die. They simply cannot die until they reach a certain age. No one has yet to discover that exact age, but then, the Elders are not exactly eager to help test the limits. The best anyone has come up with is that they are simply the last of every generation to die.

It quickly became easy to recognize them. For instance, have you ever seen, or heard about, that guy who got shot some extraordinary amount of times and lived? Or, maybe you saw on the news that woman who was brutally raped and stabbed several times and somehow managed to survive. Then, there was that couple camping in the woods, that was attacked and severely mauled by a bear and, yes, lived to tell the tale. We soon came to see that these extraordinary feats of survival were, in fact, extra-ordinary. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

It’s been nearly fifty years, now, since the true Great War. Due to the amount of nuclear weapons employed by states all around the world, most of civilization was destroyed in less than a month. There now exists a few known pockets of humanity and—quite probably—a few that aren’t known. Fortunately, most of the destruction was limited to the cities of the world and their outlying areas. Thankfully, there was not enough vindictiveness to focus on targeting much of the natural, unaltered world, but there was plenty of spite in the short time the war was waged. From beginning to end, vengeful behavior perpetuated more destruction. Eventually, any city with a population of more than fifty thousand was nuked, and any cities smaller than that were ravaged to inexistence by looters, plunderers, marauders, and the like.

It did not take long for the survivors of every species that were able to start collecting in those last pockets of habitat capable of supporting them. After a few years of people—from all walks of life—slowly gather in tent villages in the wilderness, the encampments began to swell. There was the eventual evolution to organized communities, and now the struggle for control over resources has begun—both amongst the separate communities and within the communities themselves.

My name is Red, and I live in Bridge. Bridge is one of the smaller settlements in a confederacy of nine towns. The town abuts both banks of a small river and is connected by a large bridge; this is not uncommon as three other towns in our confederacy do the same further up the river. We are a fairly poor community. We have the least access to the surrounding resources. However, not many of the people living here consider this to be a problem, because it leaves our little hamlet relatively undisturbed by outsiders. We just make do with less, and we’ve gotten used to it. In fact, our Elders have been training themselves to eat less and less frequently. It appears that they are able to cope with the hunger better, and it doesn’t seem to weaken them like it would a normal human.

All-in-all, my home town is relatively boring--which suits me just fine. I hear about turmoil that plagues other communities, and I do not envy them. The relative quiet here allows me the opportunity to try to study the Elders a bit.

Journal Entry: The ElderFolk

My grandfather, Red, told me once that the ElderFolk never used to be able to heal themselves the way they do now. He thought that, once their seemingly unnatural powers of survival were recognized, they were able to hone their abilities and increase their strengths. Now the ElderFolk of Bridge have remarkably fast powers of regeneration.

For a while I suspected their abilities had something to do with the mixture of radiological effects on their natural capabilities, but—from what I’ve been able to gather from my short travels—none of the other people called Elders seem to be able to do what our ElderFolk can do. In fact, the rapid healing is starting to show up in some of our ElderFolk’s children, and they have never had any exposure to the fallout.

The ElderFolk now govern Bridge and protect it. We usually don’t get much trouble, because we are so small compared to neighboring towns and really don’t have that much to offer. When trouble does come, the ElderFolk have devised a little tactic that, so far, has kept us fairly safe. Most everybody hides indoors while the ElderFolk stay out in the street going about their business. One of them will attempt to negotiate with the troublemakers under the pretence of being a normal, everyday person. Sometimes a simple concession is made, and the intruders leave without a fuss. However, when a fight does occur the ElderFolk throw themselves into a feigned combat—basically falling on swords after a bit of a theatrical attempt to resist.

The performance usually appeases the marauder's thirst for blood, and then they grab some booty from the street and head out of town. They rarely take anything we wouldn’t have given them in the first place but such is the nature of the aggressors. Once all is clear, the ElderFolk simply rise up and go about their day—after washing up and changing into new clothes, of course.

Granted it’s not a great system, but it seems to work. We lose less than if we were to try and resist a force we couldn’t repel in the first place, and nobody actually gets hurt. Besides, the ElderFolk don’t seem to mind the trouble. The key is that we keep the fact that we have so many ElderFolk living here a secret and that they have this new ability.

Journal Entry: The ElFolk

My name is Jared, and my family has been chronicling the progression taking place in the ElFolk for quite some time now. We have lived in Bridge for several generations, and it has become obvious something strange is happening that is not occurring elsewhere.

We still hear stories from travelers about these people called Elders and there amazing abilities to not be killed. Some of them have risen up and made themselves kings over small domains. Others lead bands of scavengers and travel across the lands. There are many more stories out there, but none of what I hear is nearly as impressive as what is happening here.

These Elders, people speak of, still have to take good deals of bed rest to recuperate from wounds and illnesses; our ElFolk do not. Plus, the ElFolk are now living to ages much older than these Elders—not to mention regular humans—by far.

Other towns have continued to try and grow and become more sophisticated, but that tends to draw the attention of undesirables in some fashion or another. Either they’ll be attacked and have any accomplishment they’ve achieved taken, or hordes of people will flock to these towns hoping to share in whatever new luxury has come about. However, here in Bridge, we’ve gone the other way.

Our ElFolk, which used to be like those Elders, have been keeping our little community safe for many generations now. Part of how they have done this was to build our town into the landscape. The few original buildings of the town—as well as the bridge—have been maintained, but when new homes or other structures needed to be built they were dug into the hillsides, carved into large tree trunks, or constructed high up in the branches. Much of the town is very well camouflaged, so, though Bridge has grown a bit over the years, it still looks quite small and harmless.

We are very passive when strangers pass through as not to arouse any trouble. When there is trouble the ElFolk bear the burden, because they now have near instant regeneration. They also seem to be able to sense when trouble is coming. Whether it is from some sixth sense or just a culmination of their heightened hearing, eyesight, or sense of smell, they are almost always able to know when the approaching visitors come with nefarious intentions. In those instances they send the rest of us into hiding and meet the visitors themselves.

As I mentioned earlier, the ElFolk have started living well past the expected age of a normal human. In fact, there are four ElFolk here who survived the Great War Long, long ago. As far as I am aware—though my travels are far from exhaustive—none of the other Elders from those times survive.

Though it is not specifically a rule, for the most part, the ElFolk only couple amongst themselves—and their children are being born with all of their abilities. It is startling to see how evolved they are becoming. In fact, the other day someone said they saw an ElFolk extinguish a cooking fire by simply holding her hand out, palm down, and slowly pushing it down towards the flame. I shall have to keep a close eye on this development.

Journal Entry: The Elfs

My father named me Jared after his father. Both of them fancied themselves as some sort of historians tasked with recording the evolution of the Elfs in our village. They had both grown suspicious of our friends’ abilities, and—for some reason—they thought the Elfs needed to be scrutinized carefully. I never could understand what their problem was, or what they thought they could do about it, but nonetheless they expected the same of me.

I thought my father was upset when he found out I was best friends with an Elf, but—without a doubt—my father’s worst day was when my sister declared to him that she was going to marry my friend—the Elf.

Terrik was obviously quite a bit older than my sister, which is why the Elfs tended to shy away from relationships with regular humans, but for all intents and purposes they were both teenagers. It was inevitable that the two of them would end up together; after all, the three of us spent all our time together. Even though I was in no way attempting to follow in my father’s footsteps, I did pick up several interesting details about the Elfs that are not well known.

For instance, it is very difficult for two Elfs to conceive a child together. Sometimes they change pairings to try and achieve a pregnancy, but even so it is still difficult. Once an Elf becomes pregnant, she carries the child for a little over three years. That doesn’t happen when an Elf mates with a regular human. In those instances, rare as they are now, the gestation period is roughly one year. Also, they seem to be telepathic—at least when it comes to animals. This skill goes well beyond your everyday animal empathy. It doesn’t happen out loud, but Terrik has told me that they can have near flawless conversations with animal-kind. And, though I’ve never seen it, some people say that the Elfs can move water and tree vines without touching them. However, whenever I asked Terrik about stories of that nature he denied them, and—until my sister died—I believed him.

As has been well chronicled, the Elfs were very peaceful people who lived in harmony with regular humans, but all of that changed in one day. For many generations the Elfs and their ancestors had defended Bridge from criminals with their possum act, and it is possible it may have gone on that way for many more. However, one day, when the Elfs alerted the townspeople to hide because hostile riders were coming near, my sister refused to leave Terrik’s side.

Because she wouldn’t leave, he grabbed her and ducked inside one of the street-side shops. They both squatted down to watch the situation from behind some display tables that had scarfs and other garments hanging down the sides. The party that rode into town was a particularly rough looking bunch. There were thirty, or so, and they were definitely out for spoils.

Not content to simply have their booty given to them, they began firing crossbow bolts and arrows into the people of Bridge. Several dismounted their horses and began slicing at people with their swords. When the street had fallen silent, with the Elfs playing their roles as corpses, the only thing that could be heard was the labored breathing of the attackers in the street and a small steady moaning from the garment vendor’s shop.

Just as most of the attackers had focused their attention towards the crying from the shop the scarfs parted and Terrik walked out. His hands were drenched in blood and he was carrying a bloodied arrow clinched tightly in his fist. From my vantage point in the trees, I could see tears freely streaming down his face. Though I did not know it for certain at the time, my sister had died and so, too, had the peaceful relationship between our peoples.

A look of anger, which I had never seen on any Elf, contorted Terrik’s face. Several of the bandits began to approach him, and he quickly dodged his way through them. The attackers were not aware of the increased speed and reflexes Terrik’s people enjoyed, because—since its establishment—all any outsiders knew about Bridge was that it was an easy target populated by weaklings who never fought back. To be fair, I was nearly as surprised as they were when Terrik danced his way through their storm of sword swings unscathed; pushed one rider over, mount and all; grabbed the bridle of a particular horse, yanking its head nearly to the ground; and thrust the clutched arrow through the heart of the mounted bowman.

As the dying man’s comrades started to advance, intent on avenging their fallen’s death, Terrik’s fists jutted outwards, and then up towards the heavens, while he screamed in a rage that terrified all who were present. The other Elfs broke their poses of death and began to move slowly out of the street, nearer to the buildings. It was clear they were no more aware of what was about to happen as any of the rest of us.

Before Terrik’s scream came to a stop one stream of flame came shooting out of each of his fists and seared high into the sky. His scream stopped abruptly, and at the same time he slammed his arms back down to his sides. There was a thunderous boom when the streams of flame slammed to the ground. At that point there was two streams of flame, approximately twenty feet long each, writhing on the ground in a serpentine manner at Terrik’s sides.

No one had ever seen anything like this, so, of course, people began to scatter. For the Elfs, that was fine, but for the rest of us... Terrik began indiscriminately swinging his arms, wielding his streams of fire like whips, and ripping buildings like paper—starting them aflame in the process. The results for the humans he would hit were far worse. When a body would be hit, it seemed to explode in a spray of blood and bone. Unfortunately, he was not only hitting the intruders. Luckily, most of the human residents of Bridge had scattered off into the woods when the alert came earlier, but many—like myself—tended to stay nearby because we knew the Elfs would handle everything. Now, we were falling victim to the same retribution my sister’s killers were.

Terrik finally stopped after all the buildings in town were completely destroyed—or well ablaze—and all the intruders were either dead or had retreated beyond his sight. He yelled out that humans were the scourge of the Earth and they were no longer welcome in Bridge. He said any human seen in or near town would be killed without hesitation. Everybody who could hear him immediately ran further out of town to find any friends or loved ones that might be hiding in the woods and warned them not to return.

I just stayed in my tree, watching Terrik pace back and forth in front of the garment vendor’s shop, and fixated on the deliberate way he was saying the word humans. He had made a very clear distinction. They were no longer Elders, ElderFolk, or anything of the sort. They were a whole new race, and so we now designate them with a name of their own. And so it is, I finish this last entry into the first volume of The Book of Elves.

(The End)

The City: In Dialogue (Chapter 1)

Chapter 1

In order to be king, one must be merciful and kind, for fear he be found out a tyrant. Although, for a king to be loved, he must be heavy handed, for people love a strong leader who keeps order as well as prosperity. While doing so, a king must be mindful of God, for He is king among kings and ruler of all who rule. Being king is an arduous task, a feat most men cannot accomplish with any longevity. So it is that a king must respect the devil, for Satan is ruler of all those who fail.

“Ugh! Why do you read this blather to me, Jepsin?” I inquired dryly.

“I read it, Magistrate, because your cousin is gaining much support by doing the same, and you need to be aware of it,” he responded.

“He gains support with the working plebes,” I snapped. “I still command the full loyalty of the army—not to mention the Managers.”

“The Managers are not to be trusted,” he scowled. “Their loyalties would shift in a slight breeze, if it suited their needs. And as far as the army is concerned, they’re not allowed within the wall, and he controls the defense force.”

“What the hell is Thason so mad about,” I shouted, pushing the papers Jepsin slid toward me straight off the other side of my desk. “The motto of the city is right there, etched in the forum. ‘First, always, the wellbeing of the city and its people.’ Does the city do anything but prosper and, by default, the people too?”

“Yes, Magistrate,” he scurried over and crouched to reassemble the scattered papers. “I believe he is upset that some citizens appear to be prospering better than others.”

“Piss on him,” I spat the words, as if they left a bitter taste in my mouth. “He cares nothing for the plight of others. It’s arguable; he lives better than I do. You don’t see him offering to part with any of his estate to help equalize any perceived discrepancies.” I contemplated for a moment, strumming my fingers on the desk. “No, this is about that religious nonsense he’s gotten into his head; he wants a state religion.”

“Your Fathers did come from a religious background,” Jepsin chimed in. “I think, primarily, he’s…”

“No!” I asserted. “Neither one of the Fathers wanted this city to be run by the influence of dogmatic nonsense weakly passing itself off as morality. And even though my ancestors have been dead for generations, I won’t have the likes of you sullying their memory by suggesting otherwise.”

“No, Magistrate, of course not,” he backpedaled. “I’m merely trying to…”

I held a hand up, cutting him off again. “Wait,” I ordered. “Bear with me, Jepsin.” That was the closest I could come to apologizing to him, given the difference in our status. “I know what you were trying to do, and it is appreciated. You are very good at your job, but for now I need no further advice.”

I stood up, grabbing and twirling my jacket off the back of my chair and around my shoulders in one skillfully swift maneuver, and I headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Jepsin called.

I stopped, turned my head to face him, and cocked an eyebrow.

“I…eh…I…ahem…must…notify your detail,” he recovered, ever so graceful.

“You needn’t bother,” I resumed my stride. “I’m just retrieving the kids from their lessons. Besides, no one would dare harm me.”

The large, ornately carved, doors to my office closed behind me—further punctuating the end of our conversation.

“You think that now,” Jepsin mumbled under his breath.

*****

In a small, but lavishly decorated, room an elderly professorial figure stood pontificating instruction to three seated boys.

“Through specific recruitment and selective allowance, they populated the city to its first-phase capacity. And, for a pre-set period of time, they maintained an isolationist policy, so the city—and her inhabitants—could adjust and grow without negative influences. And so it was, the two brothers, their children, and their children’s children, built our wonderful city of Renace.”

“Mr. Battista,” the oldest of the three boys inquired, “what happened to those other governments the Fathers had to negotiate with?”

“Well Remus,” frustrated with the interruption, the teacher turned to speak directly to his inquisitor, “after a few generations, the city was still isolated within its great wall—further protected by its superior defensive technologies. A growing number of inhabitants were beginning to protest until the world fell victim to a plague. News reports attributed the sickness to a special vaccination for a new flu strain.”

“Are they sure it was the flu?” the boy said wide-eyed.

Though he certainly did not appreciate being repeatedly interrupted, the teacher continued lecturing, “Whatever the cause, the world’s population was devastated. Wherever people had gathered in close number there was no chance for survival; the disease worked very quickly. Towns and cities around the world were abandoned as their streets filled with bodies.”

All three boys’ mouths were open but remained silent.

“Within a few years there seemed to be no more sign of sickness, and—though there is no way to be sure—the population of the world had to be down in the few hundred million range.”

“Is that when we started to expand the republic?” Remus asked.

“No,” the teacher paused briefly at the outburst. “The city was self-sufficient and safe from the sickness, so there was no rush to break the timeline for the second-phase, but soon after that expansion the population grew too quickly. Incorporation of new territory was required. At this point, of course, several generations had come and gone, so none of the previous claims to land outside of ours existed anymore.”

“That’s when the army was created!” one of the younger boys exclaimed.

“Telemachus,” the teacher scolded, “your cousin has developed some bad habits; you’d do well to discourage the same behavior in yourself.”

There was a short silence as the boys turned back and forth to look at each other in awe.

The teacher started up again, “When men of proper decorum want to address a superior or, in this instance, a mentor, they do so by sounding said superior’s name and then waiting for the acknowledging approval to go on.”

There was another brief pause.

“Mr. Battista,” sounded the voice of one, now timid, Telemachus.

“Yes, Telemachus.”

“Is that when the army was created?”

“Yes. And so started the days of the republic.”

“Mr. Battista,” Remus hissed, clearly being upset at the not-so-subtle admonishment.

“Yes, Remus,” the teacher grinned, being pleased with the reestablished order.

“If there were no more cities or governments, and the people scattered into the wilderness, how, then, are there so many kingdoms and nations now that the army constantly has to control or conquer them?”

“Good question,” the teacher encouraged. “As I had said, several generations had gone by, and—though nature had reclaimed almost all of what we refer to as the Old Civilization—people did eventually start to gather into groups again. They, of course, were having children just like we did, and they began building their respective societies.”

“Societies, huh,” Remus sneered.

I had entered the room just as professor Battista was finishing his statement and well in time to hear Remus’ outburst.

“Remus,” I shouted.

The boys all jumped and turned to face me; the teacher sharpened his stance as well.

“Yes father,” he snapped cautiously.

“Though I deal with barbarians on a regular basis, I have no patience for it in my own home,” I stepped further into the room. “When your professor is speaking, you do not interject at will.”

As I casually strolled around the back of the room, not looking at its occupants but scanning it as if taking some sort of inventory, I continued, “Just because other nations are primitive does not mean we must lower ourselves to their level when learning about them.”

“Executive Magistrate,” the teacher appealed.

I held a ceasing hand up, “Upon entering, I did not notice my cousin’s sons behaving like animals.” I dropped my hand, “Tell me professor, is this my son’s natural state?”

“Of course not, Magistrate,” the teacher said confidently. “He was merely taken over with zeal. He gets that way—on occasion, as young boys do—when learning the history of our great city.”

Professor Battista, then, leveled an almost blatantly accusatory stare at me and continued, “Many of the boys under my tutelage over the years have had the very same issues to overcome. It always seems to pass with a little gentle encouragement.”

“Ah, of course, it does.” I replied, knowing full well what he was insinuating. “Well, that’s settled then.”

I crouched down and extended my arms. “Come here boys,” I called to my eight and ten year old nephews in an exaggeratedly excited tone. “We’ve got to get you back to your father. Remus, thank your professor for his instruction,” I nodded to my old teacher.

The two boys ran to my embrace, and Remus turned to face his teacher.

“Thank you, professor Battista,” Remus said in a sincerely humble voice.

“You are quite welcome, young sir,” Battista winked at Remus.

The boy smiled, turned, and quickly joined our little mock marching group, and we headed off down the hallway.

(End of Chapter 1)

The People’s United Territories of China (Short Story)

The People’s United Territories of China

Book One: The Invasion

Had it not been a strike against my own homeland, it would have been a thing of beauty to watch—like seeing a perfectly orchestrated operatic performance. Who would’ve ever thought it would be the massive increase in global shipping routes that would’ve been the downfall of the United States of America? I mean, there were those who said our consumerism would be our undoing; I just don't think any of them meant it in such a literal manner. My name is Henry Jensen, and I have the unfortunate duty of chronicling our current circumstances for any future survivors.

From the details we've been able to gather the plan for the attack began years ago. The Chinese slowly began bringing small groups of civilians to their military bases around their country. Every time they did this they would load a couple squads of troops into a shipping container and move it to a seaport to be loaded on a ship.

The containers had been retrofitted to accommodate the men living inside. They had adequate ventilation and discharge ports for waste. The containers were equipped with water tanks and inlets for refilling.  They were stocked with rations, a radio, and a firearm or two for every occupant. When the containers were stacked, the plumbing for each unit was connected to another for replenishment and waste removal, and they were stored, and left waiting. Though they were crude and rudimentary, the modifications were sufficient enough for their troops to bear a long-term stay.

It appears they took careful steps to avoid any suspicious behavior being detected by satellite surveillance. Moving small amounts of civilians to every base for training, instead of training them in mass at their known training bases; moving out the same number of troops as recruits brought in, to keep the troop movement at each base roughly static; storing the containers at various locations, while the force built up; and dividing the loading and shipping of the containers amongst all their seaports were just a few of the precautions they took. It also appears, once they did start shipping their Trojan Horses, they shipped them to ports all around the globe to be transferred to different Chinese controlled ships. The logistics calculations and management scheme, alone, must have taken at least a year to put together.

When the time was right, they began delivering their Trojan containers to the Port of New York. Through just the right mélange of bureaucracy, cronyism, hubris, and bribery the Chinese were able to get these particular containers through customs without physical inspection. From there, they were transported all across the country. Unfortunately, by the time the day leading up to the actual attack had arrived, there were Trojan containers waiting in storage at many locations. There were containers at every major city and the capitals of the contiguous forty-eight states—almost all of which were stored at companies or yards owned by private Chinese companies, or sub-companies. There were, however, no soldiers sent to the District of Columbia.

Playing us like a well-tuned fiddle, almost exactly in line with our military's analysis and response times, the Chinese used their naval and air forces to distract our leaders. Under the guise of training exercises, they had moved a decent amount of heavy hardware into the South Atlantic near Brazil, into the South Pacific, and into the Norwegian Sea. However, that was not what started our military reaction. The Chinese began massing a fleet—far larger than we were ever aware they had—and moving towards the North Pole. There was the standard diplomatic back-and-forth, and the U.S., of course, mustered its fleets and mobilized to attack the Chinese.

By this point, knowing the rates of inspection and calculating the times for military actions, the Chinese had moved thousands of additional Trojan containers into every major shipping port on both the eastern and western seaboards. They also had several hundred heavy freighters scheduled to roll in to both coasts simultaneously.

On the day of the attack, the basics are these. The Navy and Air Force, the joint chiefs, and the president were distracted. Therefore, no one cared to take the calls of the Coastguard captains—what few there were that even noticed—who were inquiring as to the number of freighters congesting the shipping lanes. There was a massive attack on the Internet—effectively shutting it down for days—massively disrupting communications. Apparently, the radiological sensors in the District had been unknowingly disabled. The Chinese soldiers began storming out of their containers around the country, and the major ports exploded with Chinese troops. The inbound freighters began fanning out and barreling for their respective shores—most of which were makeshift battleships, unsheathing their battlements, engaging what Coastguard resistance there was, and launching combat helicopters towards land. And finally, about an hour after the troops began leaving their containers, a nuclear bomb went off in Washington D.C.—leveling the District.

Everything was amazingly well timed. The results being—a fairly low casualty—complete and total seizure of the United States. Apparently the President had survived. It seems the nuke was not deployed until the chaos was sufficient enough for the President to be moved. The Chinese did not want him dead.

From what we know, with the exception of a few skirmishes for which the Coastguard was mostly responsible, there was no large engagement on the part of the military. The day of, we think there was roughly four million Chinese soldiers with boots on the ground and another million on inbound freighters. Most of the military, which was fairly clustered and heading in the wrong direction, was not only easy for the Chinese air and naval forces to meet and standoff with, but they were ordered to stand down by the President while the situation could be analyzed. While the situation was being analyzed, the vessels and equipment that the Chinese had on maneuvers in the South Pacific and Atlantic were brought in to shore up their control of the coasts.

It was obvious; they had won. Our government had been oblivious. The only possible response would have been for us to launch a full scale nuclear attack against China—which would have destroyed our enemy's power-base, but would've done nothing to reverse the incursion that had already taken place. Plus, they may have chosen to retaliate in kind. Either way it would have still been a total loss for us—so it is good the president did not allow that to happen.

The only good thing for us, as Americans, is that they didn't want us dead. For them, this was merely a forcible acquisition of what they figured was already rightfully theirs. They owned so much of our debt it was absurd; they owned and operated trillions of dollars’ worth of interests within our borders, and they needed more space and more food. It was the only logical next step for them. They figured the world would not look too poorly on them for their decision due, impart to what was just mentioned, but more so because we had done well more than our fair share of damage to the world's sovereignty, environment, economy, and cultures. So, it was not entirely surprising when this act of aggression was not contested—with more than official letters of protest—by any other countries around the world.

Over the next several days, the President ordered a complete surrender, and an exchange of personnel started taking place on all our military bases and vessels. With the exception of Cheyenne Mountain and a small naval group, Chinese forces soon controlled our bases and fleets, as well as our nuclear arsenal. It was agreed that the President would be allowed to stay in the mountain without retribution on the population. And, in regards to the naval group, a renegade captain—who refused to lay down his arms—gathered the support of a few other captains and convinced them to join him in running in order to regroup. Given there was only a handful of ships that they could easily track (and three missing nuclear submarines they couldn’t), the Chinese were comfortable with the grip they had achieved on our country.

The resistance among the general population was more than lackluster. Aside from a few engagements between local police forces and the invaders, there was no resistance of which to speak. Though a staggering disappointment on the show of our anti-gun control citizens, to be fair, the numbers were simply not on their side. Had they simply grabbed their guns—without any organization—and tried to defend the country, they would have just died. I’m sure, in some, it begged the question as to whether the enormous amount of gun violence the country had born for the last few decades was worth it, but the hope was that eventually their weapon stores would allow for us to mount a rebellion.

Book Two: The Resistance

It had now been a little over four-and-a-half years since the invasion. It was almost as if the Chinese had hired America’s most popular advertising agencies to prepare their propaganda campaigns in advance. Right off the bat they sure knew exactly what to say and do to subdue the populace. They knew what programs to leave on TV and what to take off to endear themselves to the people. They knew exactly how to encourage our studios to produce films that gave people the impression nothing had changed, while subtly—in a very roundabout way—promoted the new regime.

On top of that, they knew which companies to shutdown, which cities to fortify more heavily, which state politicians to keep in advisory positions, and which of the wealthy to leave alone—conditionally, of course. They made some hefty changes to the governance of the country, but for the average Joe the day-to-day seemed very much the same. In fact, in many ways, their day-to-day lives improved greatly. Health care was free, education was free, all student loans and mortgages were forgiven, and taxes were only applied to businesses. Many sectors of the economy were nationalized, but much of their management remained in the same hands. The changes occurred more along the lines of readjusting wage management. For instance, a doctor had told me that when the Chinese administrators had come to his hospital, they simply said, “You now have no more educational debt, you now own your homes outright, and you will no longer be asked to pay any taxes. Legal issues of malpractice will be investigated and covered monetarily by the government, and, for most of you, your schedules will be the same or lighter than before because we are funding the training and hiring of many more medical personnel. That being the case, everybody’s salary is being reset to a different scale. Support staff will be paid $25,000 a year, nurses will be paid $50,000 a year, doctors will be paid $100,000 a year, and administrators will be paid $100,000 a year. There will be opportunities for increase and promotion. Anyone who does not think this amount will be sufficient is free to leave and work in a different field.” This process was repeated in many sectors. Basically their idea was to put an end to unreasonable salaries and profiteering. Much of the world was affected by this, but those who thought it was for the worse were in no position to do anything about it except adjust.

The country had been divided into three, unimaginatively named, territories: the Western, Central, and Eastern Territories. The state borders within said territories remained the same but their governments had been removed. There had been a Chinese governor—and some advisers, both Chinese and American—appointed to replace the state governments. And, the territories were being governed by their respective territorial congresses—each having 1,000 seats. The 1,000 seats did not include the Territorial Magistrate, who acted as the executive; the Vice Magistrate; the Congressional Prime Minister, who was the in-house leader of the congress; or the CCP representatives, for which there was one for every party that got seats in the congress. Each of those positions were held by natural born Chinese members of the Chinese Communist Party that had been brought over from mainland China. The 1,000 seats in each of the congresses were filled by natural born Americans—which, thankfully, they had continued to call us. Aside from a simple election district modification, not much about the voting process had changed. Again, most people were quite pleased, because now there was a multitude of political parties, and there was a much greater level of representation. The downside, of course, being that there was a heavy influence from the CCP. However, most people hadn’t come to see that as too negative...Yet.

The resistance started to form more fervently when the Chinese began their plan to equalize the population. About three years after the invasion, they started transporting their citizens here at a rate of about 4,000 people per day, and, with each shipment, a little more military personnel came too. It was clear this was going to devastate our way of life, and if we let it go on too long, we would never have any hope of retaking our country.

News from around the country, and the world, flowed freely across the country. Yes, there were some restrictions on the Internet, but very few. Though the Resistance never used it to communicate, because we were sure they were monitoring everything, people could even express their dissidence on the Internet. It seemed the Chinese government had no intention of trying to subjugate the territories to the same degree they had their motherland. They hadn’t planned to apply the same operating principles to their new territories. They had planned to use this conquest to take what they believed to be “the next step towards actual communism.” They figured the new resources, area, and power-base would help them achieve that end, and they could eventually affect an equilibrium between their two lands.

About four years after the invasion, the Chinese started massing troops in Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. Several contingents of the resistance were discovered. No one was arrested, but their munitions were confiscated. They said no charges were going to be brought, because they understood the reasoning behind the Patriots’ anger. However, they were placed on a watch-list. We suspected the real reason our members were ignored was because of the larger operation the Chinese were preparing.

Several Divisions of Chinese troops met with a few hundred squads of Federales at the Mexican border. At least we were taken by surprise, but the Mexicans didn’t even put up the slightest resistance. The Federales capitulated and even guided the Chinese like a swarm of locusts down through their own country. The news had said that the Chinese declared to Mexico that the unrestrained drug trade continued to wreak too much havoc on both the Territories and the United Mexican States, so the Mexican government could either accept their help willingly or receive it by force.

After the Cartels had been brought to their knees—the entire campaign taking less than a year—most of the troops returned across the border. However, many troops had been left behind. The news could tell us it was at the request of the Mexican government all they wanted, but we knew. Mexico had now been occupied as well.

None of us were surprised when Cuba joined the People’s United Territories of China, but when Canada was forced to yield its sovereignty we knew the time for action could wait no longer. The story was that Canada voluntarily joined the Chinese as an autonomous region after the Chinese helped them with some economic issues and helped defend Canada in a territorial dispute in the north. We could read between the lines though; they were clearly forced to submit by the threat of overwhelming force.

By this time, the resistance had built up quite a sizable number of cells around the country, and we started spreading the word to organize a meeting to plan a coordinated attack. It was, of course, a terribly risky move, but we were pressed for time. The Chinese were busy endearing themselves to countries all around the world with aid packages of food, medical supplies, equipment, and personnel. They had even been so bold as to remove the word China from the name of their lands. It was still used as an ethnic title, but the government was now simply calling itself the United Territories. The name change took place right after they had reorganized the Chinese mainland to look more like the new system they implemented here in the west.

The world was falling fast and hard for the seductions of these wolves in sheep's clothing. Only the major powers of the world remained suspicious of the Chinese—respectful and polite, but suspicious.

The meeting was slow to put together, due to having to get resistance leaders from all over to one area. Travel was not difficult, if you were not on any watch-lists, but we communicated via word of mouth—person to person—to avoid electronic surveillance. Once a safe location was decided, and a date chosen, the meeting was set.

At the meeting, nothing was getting planned. No one could agree upon an appropriate plan of attack; everyone had different ideas as to how to be the most effective. The reality was that nobody had any ideas that seemed as if they would win us our country back. That is, until we were made aware by our sentries that a few strangers were requesting an audience with us.

A year or so before the meeting, several members of Capt. Douglas’ crew—the rogue Navy Captain—had been put to shore in Grenada and told to make their way up island to the mainland and contact any resistance. It took them several months to get to Florida, and a few more months after that to earn the trust of any resistance members. Luckily, the timing worked out for them to be here for the meeting. Really all they needed to do was relay to us the code the rogue fleet was using to communicate, so that they could inform us of their plan.

Book Three: The Rebellion

It turns out, though the Chinese had been tracking Capt. Douglas’ fleet, he had been very busy. The Chinese had destroyed Washington D.C. to disrupt the command and control capabilities, and break the spirit, of our country. His plan was similar, but far more destructive.

After regrouping for a short period, he had kept his fleet separated and moving—putting in to neutral and sympathetic ports only when necessary. This kept the Chinese complacent about the rogue fleet. It took a while to meet covertly, and do the necessary disassembly, but, eventually, Capt. Douglas had removed the nuclear ordnance and personnel from one of the missing submarines.

He had limited information about how things really were in the former U.S., but—in his mind—his plan was simple no matter what the details. He had planned to smuggle nuclear bombs into the Chinese occupation command center, and the most garrisoned cities; evacuate the resistance from those cities; have the other two subs stationed off each coast for back-up, in case they needed further nuclear support; leave skeleton crews on the ships, so they could continue to draw the attention of the Chinese; and sneak his personnel into the country to lead the rebellion after the bombs were detonated. Unfortunately, he was wildly over-optimistic as to the actual situation in his homeland.

By this point, the Former President had surrendered Cheyenne Mountain to the Chinese and was living a very comfortable life as a Protected Citizen. As frustrating as that was, it was not as frustrating as the Chinese now having control of NORAD. This information, coupled with the fact that there was only a couple thousand resistance members, infuriated Capt. Douglas. When it was made clear to him that most Americans were quite happy to maintain the new order, he hatched a new plan.

I was sent with a group of guards to travel south, down through South America, to safety. Since I had already been journaling our efforts, Capt. Douglas said, “Someone would need to chronicle our efforts for future generations, when they are eventually able to reclaim their land.” This was because the new plan, if it worked, would destroy much of the country—sort of an If we can’t have it, no one can type of plan.

The attack ended up triggering a chain of events that was unforeseen. We planned to deploy the forty suitcase nukes throughout our former country; sneak a sub off the coast of China, and have it launch its warheads against Russia; sneak the other sub into the Laptev Sea, to the north of Russia and have it launch its warheads at mainland China; and hope that the arsenals of the three lands would be deployed to annihilate each other. We knew some missiles would be destroyed, and some of the suitcase nukes would be detected. We just needed the distrust to be high enough.

*****

All I have time to record now is this. Reports are saying roughly thirty-two nuclear bombs were detonated in the United North American Territories, and several missile strikes impacted Russia and the United Territories of Asia. ICBMs, in massive numbers have been launched from all three regions. It is suspected there will be multiple targets outside of those three regions, and neighboring countries are also being warned to expect accidental strikes as well.

I do not know why, but France and the United Kingdom have also launched missiles; their targets are unknown. I can only imagine it is because they feel they are on the suspected target list. North Korea has, of course, launched a few missiles—with the U.S. government being gone, however, those targets are unknown. Pakistan and India have launched and already destroyed much of each other. Israel has launched against Iran, and, confirming years of suspicion, Iran has launched against Israel—and apparently other states as well. Unfortunately, resource centers around the world were also set as nuclear targets, because several strikes have already impacted parts of Africa, Australia, and, yes, South America. As it seems much of the world is going to be destroyed, and a total depopulation may occur due to fallout, I will simply finish by saying th...

Epilogue: The Discovery

Hmmm, so it appears they really did think they were doing the right thing.

“What’s that Dr. Maberti?” said the young research assistant.

“Hum, oh. I was just thinking out loud,” the bushy-eye-browed History professor answered, without looking up from the fragile pages of his object of interest.

“I gathered that, professor, but what was it you were thinking out loud?” the visibly disinterested grad student pried further.

“Ah, yes, well it seems the Resistance actually were very devout in their belief that their actions were justified,” Dr. Maberti replied.

“Ugh. I don’t know why you care so much or why it even matters. It’s been more than 72,000 years since the Patriots,” the student emphasized the word with disdain, “destroyed the world, and very little from those barbaric times even exists anymore.”

“Honestly, Jonathan, I don’t know why you are pursuing a career in history at all. You never seem to be sadder than when you are here in the archives. You are never this melancholy in class; you seem to love history,” Dr. Maberti expressed.

“I love the study of our history, not this...this xenology,” the student retorted.

“Xenology!” the professor exclaimed vehemently. “These are not extraterrestrials we are researching, my boy. They may be alien to us, but humans, from right here on Earth, just like us, is what they were. This journal affords us the ability to study our ancient past and learn from their mistakes. We study their history, so that we do not repeat their failures. Do you not understand what an amazing opportunity a glimpse like this, into our past, presents us?”

“No professor. I’m sorry; I don’t,” Jonathan answered. “It is impossible to even think that any civilized human being could make such horrible decisions and cause so much destruction. We are above that.”
...

“Those that fail to learn from history,

are doomed to repeat it.”

                                                                          Sir Winston Churchill

.

The City: In Dialogue (Prologue)

Prologue: The Founders

“Are you nervous because you haven’t seen your brother in such a long time?” my wife said in a lovingly reassuring manner.

“No,” I shrugged, but continued, “I’m nervous because I am not sure he’ll be interested in my proposal. And, if he’s not, then this will have all been for nothing.”

“You don’t have to give up on your dream, if your brother doesn’t agree,” she encouraged. “You’ve done so much work, and you have other options.”

“No,” I barked, much more severely than I had intended. “Doing this is going to be near to impossible,” I continued, steadying and lowering my tone. “If I don’t have someone I trust implicitly helping me run it, it will never work.”

“I wish I could be that person for you in this,” she said while maneuvering around to my back, placing her arms around my chest, “but I just don’t have what it takes.”

“Are you kidding me?” I chortled. “You’ve been phenomenal! It’s just that I’m going to need someone with his experience and abilities. Not only that, but I’ll need someone who can be adamant about disagreeing with me when necessary, and I don’t want that to be you. You are the wind in my sails. And though we have disagreements at times, this project is going to cause issues of staggering proportions.”

“I know,” she soothed, “and I’ll be right there by your side the whole time.” She smiled lovingly and looked into my eyes.

******

My wife and I stood in the airport terminal, waiting for the jet to open its door and release its passenger.

“I don’t know how I’m going to handle it, if he does not agree to do this with me,” I confided to her.

Slightly wedging her arm in between my own and my chest, she answered my doubt by saying, “Well you should prepare yourself for that eventuality, because it is an awfully risky venture, and it’s not as if you two have ever been very close.”

This did not comfort me in the manner I believe she intended.

“Just because my brother has always been the typical close tied, family guy does not mean he’s ever held the fact that I am not against me,” I responded. “He knows I love him and that we’ve always had a special connection. Albeit not like most others, to be sure, but he knows.” The last was said more for myself.

“I hope so,” she offered.

“Whether he participates in this or not, nothing between us is going to change,” I followed quickly.

“You say that now,” she said, a little more doubtful than I would have liked.

“I know, I know. Things are going to change, aren’t they?” I conceded. “I guess I just meant if he doesn’t join in, most likely, nothing of mine and his relationship will change.”

“Well that’s probably true,” she chuckled. “The two of you hardly ever see each other, as it is, now,” she smiled, and gave me a loving poke.

“Really,” I smiled, “Now?”

“I’m just playing,” she smiled. “I am certain he’s going to say yes.”

“Well, I guess we’re about to find out,” I patted her cradled hand, “here he comes now.”

******

Once my brother and I were relaxing comfortably in the living room of his hotel suite, he decided to up the ante of the conversation.

“Alright, so what’s this all about?” he inquired. “You and Carol were pretty tight lipped on the ride from the airport.”

“What are you talking about? We all chatted the whole way here,” I feigned innocence.

“Yeah,” he scoffed “I’m not saying you both weren’t pleasant and chatty; I’m saying you both changed the subject with dubious skill whenever I tried to ask anything about why you so urgently brought me up here.” Pausing, he looked around and changed his tone entirely, “Speaking of which, why are we up here? And how, for that matter, could you afford to bring me here on a private jet?”

“I’m sorry. Was it not as nice as yours?” I said in jest.

“Come on, you know that’s not what I meant,” he laughed back. “Seriously though man, you’re a professor,” he proceeded more seriously. “Cryptic phone calls, urgent trips—on private jets, no less—what is going on David? You’re starting to scare me.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t be scared,” I assured. “It’s not the time for that yet.”

“Yet,” his eyes widened, “is that supposed to ease my concerns right now?”

“Nope,” I asserted, “I very much meant it; there will be plenty of occasions to be scared in the near future.”

“This is not helping David,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Thomas, I want you to listen to—and consider, with all seriousness—the proposal I am about to put to you,” my tone was finally serious enough to appease him. “It is going to sound like a joke—and a completely absurd one at that—but I assure you, it is not.”

“I figured as much,” he acknowledged. “You’ve got my attention. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“I want you to help me start a new country based around one ideal city—just like dad had always talked about, but with quite a few more of the details worked out,” I said, laying it out flat.

“Excuse me?” he queried

“I am, in no way, playing with you right now,” I told him. “We have acquired a significant piece of land in The Provinces, north of here across the border, and we’re going to build a city. We’re going to develop everything from the ground up, and we’re going to follow our principles of community, justice, exploration, and environmental stewardship.” I continued, “And above all, we are going to be a completely sovereign state with no one else’s inefficiency or ignorance to stand in our way.”

There was a long pause.

I started up again, “We have the majority of the plan in place, but I need someone like you to help ensure success.”

There was another pause.

“How, exactly, am I supposed to do that?” he asked.

“Well your business acumen is going to be crucial,” I added immediately. “I mean you did, after all, build a multibillion dollar a year energy company—genuinely from the ground up.” I took a short pause, and then added, “More than that, though, I need you to be my partner in keeping all that this is going to entail under control.”

“Huh!” he snorted. “You’re talking about building a city, and running a country. Exactly what level of control do you think will be able to be maintained?”

“It’s not like men, less capable than us, haven’t been doing this for millennia,” I said, “and we’re going into it far more prepared than any of them ever did—with quite a few more advantages.”

“There’s that hubris I’ve seen in you before,” he said morosely.

“Exactly!” I jumped, pointing a finger at him. “Yet another reason why you’re going to have to be there with me.”

“I can’t do this,” he stood, as if to challenge my finger pointing. “This is ridiculous. You can’t do this! The federal government is never going to let you go; they’re never going to let you do this.”

“They are, and they will,” I challenged right back.

“I don’t understand,” he shrugged his shoulders. “You already have the land? How is any of this possible?”

“Well, it is complicated,” I sat back down to continue explaining, “and I will explain it all to you in detail, but for now it is suffice to say I have spent years putting together a coalition of people who share the same types of values as us. These people want to live in a responsible environment but simply cannot find any place that is willing to support their values.”

He sat down too, with a look of shock on his face.

“Anyway,” I carried on, “many of these people are fairly powerful in different respects. Through their connections—as well as my own—I have been working on brokering a deal with several governments and corporations to make this happen. Here is where you come in.”

“What does that mean?” he said, slightly bewildered.

“You would have to sell your company as part of the deal.”

“What!” he was on his feet again. “What do you mean sell my company? How did my company get involved in this? No…wait.” He stopped his newly begun pacing. “Actually, I can’t sell my company,” he tilts his head and furrows his brow, “and you know that—ever since that issue with the federal courts.”

“Yeah, that actually helped quite a bit,” I leaned back into the plush sofa cushions.

“Besides,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard me, “selling my company won’t fund this little operation of yours. I am legally forbidden from selling my company for any price higher than a thousand dollars.”

“Yeah,” I paused briefly, “you won’t actually be selling your company. You will be signing it over to the federal government. In return, they will be giving five hundred billion dollars in grants to private corporations working on building projects in the city, and they will allow UniCom to donate another five hundred billion to our organization with no tax burden. Then they will take over operations of your company. Plus,” I added, “it was part of the negotiation to get sovereignty.”

“A trillion dollars…Pheeew…Wait a minute! How did UniCom get involved in this?” he barked.

“Listen, I know you don’t like them, but…”

“Of course I don’t like them! You know they…”

“I know, I know. That is neither here, nor there,” I said trying to calm him. “You don’t like them, and they don’t like you—neither does the federal government, for that matter. So let’s take their money and go start our own country! Do you not get the monumentality of this opportunity?”

“Yes, I get it,” he chimed, “but what you’re talking about doing is almost incomprehensible. It is not going to be as easy as you think.”

“Easy! I don’t think it’s going to be easy at all,” I insisted. “In fact, it hasn’t been so far. Besides, nothing meriting the term monumental should be easy. Also, that’s why I want you by my side.”

“Well that figures,” he rolled his eyes and flipped his hands up. “You still didn’t tell me what UniCom has to do with this,” he probed.

“You know what they have to do with this. They want your company, and the federal government wants them to have it,” I said, almost exhausted at that particular issue. “I say you let them have it and build a bigger, better future for even more people.”

“I don’t know about all of that,” he shrugged. “Anyway, this is all moot. Not even a trillion dollars is enough money to do what you’re talking about doing.”

“Oh I’ve got more than a trillion dollars,” I smiled, “four trillion, to be specific, but it’s not like we’re just going to be vacationing up there. We’re going to have industry and agriculture. In fact, we are already set to start manufacturing on five different contracts in two years, and the first crops should start producing yields next spring.”

“Next spring!” he sat down, again. “David, how far along is this thing?”

“Oh, I’d say we’re at least knee deep already,” I chuckled.

“Right,” he pointed at me. “That’s about when you find out whether you’re going to fall on your face or not.”

“Exactly!” I exclaimed hopefully. “That’s why I want you to come with me.”

“Wait a minute,” he puzzled. “How could you have begun the project already? You don’t have the money, or the sovereignty, from me signing over my company—and I haven’t agreed to do this. Don’t you think you might have put the horse before the cart little brother?”

My demeanor got more solemn, “You are not my only option. Within the deal I brokered, I have two other possible options to pull this off. However, I am not going to exercise either of them. I just negotiated them, so they would allow the project to begin. You’re in, or the project stops.” There is a slight pause. “I want you to help me do this. I want you, and Tess, and the kids, to come with us, and we will build a new country from the ground up,” I finished.

“Oh my god!...Tess!...David, how am I supposed to bring this up to my wife—let alone my kids?” he asked, looking off, not really expecting me to answer.

However, after a brief pause, I answered anyway.

“A, your kids won’t care, and B, you shouldn’t let that be a factor in something as important as this anyway. And as far as Tess goes, just ask her the same way I asked you,” I said sincerely.

“Oh! Sure!” he scoffed. “Hey honey, wanna go start a country today? Maybe we can make you queen, or something.”

“First off, uncanny impression,” I said sarcastically, “and second, don’t joke about the whole queen thing,” I said, much more somberly.

“Oh relax,” he scolded. “You know I wasn’t supposing tyranny, or anything of the sort.”

“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just…well…we’ve already got someone in mind for queen,” I shot him a toothy grin, and we both broke into laughter.

*****

As my brother and I sat comfortably, in one of our two larger jets with about forty five other passengers flying to the city, the conversation turned a little sour for my tastes.

“You know, that crack about the kids was wrong,” Thomas stated.

“Hmm… What crack?” I looked over to face my brother, as he was seated on my left.

“About my kids not caring and their opinion not mattering anyway. It was wrong,” he said pointedly.

“To be clear, I didn’t say their opinion didn’t matter,” I consoled. “I said you shouldn’t let it be a factor in something as important as this. And you know, I simply meant that you, as the father, shouldn’t let important decisions be left to the sway of children’s adolescent desires.”

“Yeah, I know what you meant,” he acknowledged, “but sometimes it worries me how quickly terse and callous comments can roll off your tongue.”

In an effort to appease him and get off this subject, I replied, “Believe me, it worries me occasionally too, but you know it’s not meant with any kind of malice, right?” I smiled.

“I do,” he smiled and reached his arm up and around my shoulders.

There was a short pause.

Thomas broke the silence first saying, “So, I thought you said we weren’t going to have an airport.”

“I said we weren’t going to have airlines,” I nudged him with my elbow. “There are certain things that simply require the use of airplanes. I don’t demonize the tool; I demonize its misuse.”

“Sure…sure…So trains huh,” he smacked my knee. “You know the nearest major city is more than two hundred and fifty miles away.”

“Yep,” I nodded.

“Doesn’t that mean it’s going to be a while before we have steady, and reliable, supplies?” he queried.

“Nope,” I shook my head.

There was a long pause.

Eventually both of us smiled at each other.

“Remember that discussion we were just having about you being terse?” he said through a forced smile.

“It rings a bell,” I smirked.

“Well?” he pressed.

“Well what?” I evaded.

“David!” he chuckled.

“Alright, alright,” I said, laughing. “Construction on both the heavy and the high-speed lines started four years ago.”

“Seriously!” he said taken aback. “We’ve got a railroad.”

“Sure do,” I supplied, with a big smile. “State-of-the-art. Mag Levs, even. Cost us a pretty penny.”

“Just one line for each?”

“Technically,” I responded, “but, actually, there are two complete guide-ways for both the heavy and the high-speed; they’re unidirectional paths. None of that pesky shuffling-the-trains-on-a-single-track for us, brother—efficient, efficient, efficient.”

“Wouldn’t it be more efficient to have one guide-way for each, and save the materials?”

“That might be the opinion of some,” I conceded, “but having the double tracks allows one to act as a backup for the other during maintenance or problems, and it makes our scheduling capabilities far more efficient for all the other times.” I paused briefly, but before he could say anything, I added, “Anyway, the last guide-way will be done in three months.”

“Wow,” he said somberly. “Three months, huh. So this is real.”

“Oh it’s real, alright,” I agreed. “Just wait until you see the city so far. Once you do, you’ll sign those papers in a heartbeat and never look back.”

*****

“I am incredibly impressed with how much is already done here, David, but how is this expectation about me setting up and operating the energy distribution supposed to work?” he asked. “It’s not as if I built my company on my own, you know.”

“First off, don’t sell what you did short,” I encouraged, “but in regards to your concern, a clause to help with that was written into the agreement. Of those employees you should choose—and that are willing—you’ll be able to bring one thousand.”

“What!” he said slightly stunned. “I’ll be able to bring a thousand of my employees with me?”

“Yes.”

“How is that going to work?” he threw his hands up. “They’re just supposed to uproot their lives and move to the middle of nowhere.”

“No one is going to force them, by any means,” I assured. “Furthermore, don’t you think any of them would be enticed by what we have to offer them?”

“What we have to offer them is foreign, undeveloped, untested, frontier living.”

“Frontier living, you say,” I eyed him brusquely, “with state-of-the-art facilities in every capacity, free healthcare, the most efficient transportation system, guaranteed income, better housing, and safe and secure living.”

“Yeah, but it is in the middle of nowhere, and it is all untested,” he reiterated.

“Thomas, you’ve walk the streets; you’ve seen the facilities. Don’t you think some of them will be interested?”

“Yes, you’re right,” he smiled. “I’m sure some will.”

“So you’re on board!”

“Yes, little brother, I am. Now let’s head back and gather up our families; we’ve got ourselves a country to run.”

(End of prologue)