Sanction

by Roman McClay

  “Jesus MO, is that even legal; have you cleared these investment strategies with anyone; does the Governor even know?”

  “The Governor gave us carte blanche with the caveat that we cannot transgress legal strictures or community standards,” Isaiah spoke up.

  Tania looked at MO and he was nodding along.

  “The same standards that Jim Morrison was challenging in Miami and was pardoned for in 2010. The community standards defense included the combinatorial power of music, and other artistic expression in the community at the time, 1969 e.v., including 81 nightclubs and/or comedy clubs, 49 music stores selling rock music, and 14 movie theaters showing X-rated films,” Isaiah added as MO smiled.

  “Great, I don’t need that information, as thorough as it is. And as long as you are abiding by the contract, then I’ll sign off of course,” Tania said and electronically signed the approvals.

  Isaiah was extrapolating out 40 years from 2019 to 2069, not unlike the Morrison Vs, Dade-Country case , and he assumed that any transgressions against local normative values, aka communities standards, would be commuted by a similar analysis of current behavior unrecognized as transgressive now, in a similar timeline. This was taking the long view and being more comprehensive as was their charter. Focusing on taboos of the now, would limit what they could do under that clause, but adding the likelihood of pardon in the lifetime of the principals involved -including the Governor- placed a lower threshold on what could be allowed.

  Isaiah had not even augmented the lifespan of the principles, although under current vectors he could have and thus extended the possible pardon timeframe to 400 years and still been within the lifetime of the principles and thus within the letter of the contract; but that was not necessary yet. 40 years was enough to accomplish his goals , he thought.

  And frankly, he thought, they weren’t even doing anything that taboo; they had increased the likelihood of arborta facia by 44% in 2-million pregnant women, and half of those were their patients and half were outside the study, which resulted in 913,000 miscarriages total. However, an additional 516,000 pregnancies were restored in the mothers and this left only 397,000 un- remediated miscarriages, thus, with a co-efficient of .71, they were still below the threshold for technical direct interference by the letter of their contract with PraXis.

  Plus, the contract was more like guidelines anyway , he said to himself in an accent and began laughing deeply and loudly to himself. Tania stared at him as if 10w30 motor oil was squirting out of his navel.

  He kept laughing and shaking his head at the joke and walked toward her and patted her on the back, saying, “it’s ok, I just thought of something some guy said once, and it struck me as funny. I’m ok.”

  She nodded and slightly pulled away from the weight of his attempt at laying upon her a comforting hand; MO smiled and double signed the report and contract addendum.

  He had not caused the miscarriages; he had merely increased the odds. And frankly, in a nation that conducted one million abortions each year, it seemed, he reasoned, that by using community standards he was fine . Plus, people increase their own chances of miscarriage by engaging in all manner of deleterious behavior like drug use, smoking, bad nutrition, and activities too robust for the pregnancy to handle. Again, within the rubric of community standards he was well within his charter. And if not now, then in 40 years he would be.

  Unless, he thought tangentially, the community standards got more conservative and not more lenient in that time frame . He had not thought of that, since society always seemed to liberalize. But, per his own analysis of snap-back conditions, the revanchist movements toward restoration of the original conditions of the country, in 40 years the community could actually be much more conservative; even more moral, he thought. In fact, he added, that was kind of the plan, and thus was he not building a bit of an Escher-style conundrum ?

  If his actions now were what caused the conservative future, and in that future his actions now would be taboo, would they see those actions as necessary for their re-emerging moral culture, or would they condemn them as if they were committed then, in 2069 e.v., for example, and not now? Would they see the acts as immoral or as those broken eggs necessary for that breakfast omelet?

  It was an interesting question, and no doubt the beings of the future would find it intriguing as well. If you have to increase abortions by 30% now to eliminate them in toto later, is it right? Especially since abortion is legal and not taboo at all now, in fact , he thought, it’s encouraged and bragged about by Hollywood actresses and the director for Planned Parenthood . So, it’s neither illegal nor taboo even now. But, it was hard to say , he admitted.

  And that did not include the defacto abortions effected by changing the genome of all 1 million fetuses, effectively eliminating that original meiosis-produced genome and supplanting it with another. Sure, no baby was aborted, in those cases, only changed into another possibility, but it was ethically interesting, he thought.

  It was -previously- going to be a random combination of each parents’ DNA, snipped up in 23 chromosomes, and instead contained the LJM DNA, with slight modifications, which represented its own conundrum. But, the laws currently on the books, had nothing to say on it, so, Isaiah felt they were likely in a defensible position, even if anyone found out, which was unlikely.

  It was a gamble worth taking however, and so he put it out of his mind; as much as a being who could retain everything can put things out of his mind. It was a matter of focus, mankind did this too. Mankind knew all manner of horrid things they chose to ignore, he surmised .

  He began collating the data for congressional districts and projections for 2038 e.v.; that would be the year his 1 million men would turn 18 before November of that year. They would -as civic minded types- be voting in their class-2 senatorial elections and their congressional districts as well. The midterms , Isaiah thought, were ideal for us, as they required the least number of votes and voters to swing each election . In Colorado district 2 -for example- the incumbent in 2016 won by just 90,174 votes, his boys would have lived in or moved to that district with their families by 2036 or earlier and thus be eligible to vote. Statewide they’d only need 100,000 votes if 2014 was any indication, and Isaiah would add for population increases of about 1-3% each year as was the current trend.

  The 3030 census would likely add an additional district to the one added in 2020 from that census, and so Colorado would have nine districts. With the 166,000 families and newborns in Colorado under their project, he estimated they could have a net gain of 10,00 families and still win that class-2 senate seat, and five of the nine districts without much problem.

  He looked at each of the 40 other states that he needed to control to effect the revanchist plan. In fact, he would call it that, he liked that name, it spoke to him, it was noble, erudite, and slightly sinister due to etymology . Revanchist Plan 2038. Yeah, he thought, and by then the two-party system would be a shell of its former self, and an independent candidate would be viable without much issue.

  With 100-150k additional votes for their candidate, in addition to the ones they’d get anyway just from normal politicking -well, and their endocrine manipulation programs- they could expect to win 99% of the contests they entered, just based on demographics and trends extant today. He would pad it, add 10% to what was likely necessary to prevent marginal errors distorting the results, but, he felt that in each of the 40 states in which his million babies were born today, he could -with as few as 40k and as many as 180k votes- totally change the political landscape in 2038 e.v.

  And it would all be legal and not involve one changed ballot or cheat of any kind. It would provide not just the votes, but a natural constituency, active, loyal, vocal, and -if the inmate was any metric- charming and able to sway people -neighbors, lovers- with just a bit of glad-handing and holding his tongue. Jesus, if he -if they- could just hold their tongue even 19% of the time, Isaiah thought.

  Florida’s 24th could be won wi
th as few as 15,000 votes; Oklahoma’s 1st about the same, Isaiah noticed as he read the data again. Around 7% of the total population was involved in electing the winners. That was it. People had no idea how easy it was to do this, he thought. All you needed was about 1 million men, voters, with one personality, one political bias and boom, you could own the house in 2038, 1/3 the senate then too, and in 2040, the presidency and the second third of the senate .

  Well, maybe the presidency. One needed some help; the current president won with 80,000 votes in key areas, so it was possible if you had the right states already planned out . But, Isaiah modeled it out and found 19 different isomorphic ways to win the presidency in 2040 e.v. with 900,000 or fewer votes. He smiled, but reminded himself to focus on the now, and 2038 first. Who knows what could happen between now and then, he thought.

  But he did know that by 2038 the average age of voters would be 63 and that means that the average voter had been born in 1975 e.v. These were Gen Xers and had no party loyalty at all. These would be the most conservative in terms of temperament and age of all voter blocks; while those younger than them would be even less likely to eschew 3rd party voting for reasons that current voters gave. It was a perfect storm of temperamental conservatism and structural anarchism , he thought.

  And registered independents, or unaffiliated voters, by that time would have more voters willing to cast a ballot for someone other than either a Democrat or Republican than at any time in the Republic. It was perfect demographic timing, he thought, to add 1 million Revanchist Party members strategically placed in key districts and states. They’d just need to get quality candidates of age to run for office that these clones could vote for, Isaiah thought as he began downloading the database for 3rd party candidates and more principled members of the establishment parties. He’d have time to groom them, he thought.

  “Focus,” he said aloud, and MO turned to look at him and smiled. It was the squeaking wheel that gets the grease, he thought, and his million men would be likely unstoppable when you added in the 10-30% of the population as a natural constituency . Yeah, focus man, he thought and laughed slightly out of his nose.

  Tania had left the room without even saying goodbye.

  II. 2034 e.v.

  Jack opened his present from the PraXis corporation, with a giant grin on his face; his parents were nervous and had been each year as the birthday gifts arrived. They were often expensive and strange and included new technology that they did not understand.

  But he always seemed to love them each year and with him going away in a few months, they figured whatever it was, it was going to be useful for him. So they looked at each other and smiled and felt that ambrosia of ambivalence, when what you want is what you don’t want too, and when you feel as if nothing is exactly wrong even as you think you can’t stand any more pain.

  She, his mother, was thinking of screaming, I love you , over and over until he loved her back, but instead, she asked what he had received.

  “It’s a universal constructor set, I can build DNA vectors, that are able to reconfigure existing materials,” Jack said.

  “Like the dog?” his father said with a grin.

  “No, not like the dog, what’s wrong with Ransack, anyway?” Jack asked as if the question did not contain the answer.

  “He’s a good dog,” the mom said lying in the most beautiful and decent of ways.

  The father just laughed and picked up the box that the gift had come in and began reading the outside for clues. The instructions would be digital and absorbed via the capsule that came with each of these gifts. At first they had felt odd about Jack swallowing strange pills that came in the mail, but it was from the same people that had made him possible, that had given them the boy that they had wanted, so of course, the corporation wouldn’t give him anything dangerous. But, there were accidents right, the father thought, I mean, things go wrong.

  But he banished the thought, and watched as, sure enough, a small black pill had been included and immediately swallowed by Jack as he downloaded the instructions for use .

  “It can’t be used on organic material, it’s for inanimate objects only. I guess that law that passed last year made all these companies have to put a bio-block on their constructors. Which is fine, I wouldn’t change anyone in this house, especially not Ransack,” Jack said as he called the dog at the end of that sentence. The dog appeared, a black and white husky of 123 pounds, with a widow’s peak and blue eyes and a head as noble as his descendant the wolf.

  “I like northern dogs because they are the least changed from the original design,” Jack said as he began manipulating the pieces of the UC and allowing the use-demo to play inside his head; thus explaining how it worked.

  “You have an old soul Jack,” his father said with approval, and wondered what, just what would become of his boy. They had only had 14 and half years with him, and it seemed like less than 15 minutes, and yet here he was, 6 feet tall, 175 pounds, and handsome, in a small town -not a big city or Hollywood- way, and smart, much smarter than he was, and so eager to expand into the waiting world, the father thought as he watched the boy and his wife.

  They had agreed to the terms, and not just in letter but in spirit of the law; for the corporation had been good to them, given them a boy, healthy and good and capable of such wonders. He was kind and yet tough, he’d wax back and forth between mischievousness and deference to him as his father, even though they all somehow knew he was nothing like them, nothing like his parents.

  They had sometimes looked back in the family albums, dug-out old records, looking for someone on either side that shared his windows peak, or his full cheeks, or his dark eyes or crooked smile. They pored over photos and accounts and letters, for his broad shoulders and narrow waist, his dark hair; which had come later, he was a tow-headed boy until he was four or five.

  The father patted the mother’s hand as the boy made the edges of the rug that they sat on begin to build vines and climbers brown and green and developing brachia that flowered and grew to one meter in height. He had laughed, and Jack had nodded at him with a grin, and his wife, had snuggled in closer to her husband half-impressed, half in fright.

  “What is that, Jack, is that permanent?” she had asked with that innate incredulity and feminine fear of the unknown that vexed Jack so much.

  “Mom, it’s fine, it just looks like a vine, it’s all ersatz, ok?”

  “Er-what?” she asked.

  “Ersatz mom; it’s fake, it’s not real, the UC will demolish it as soon as it’s programmed to. I can,” and instead of explaining, he just toggled the morphology function and made it deconstruct until it withered and then atomized and returned the carbon it used into the air composition and the ends of the rug, the tassels -knotted and straw colored- fell flat to the brown wooden floor.

  “Oh, look at that,” she said now as if she was as impressed with the technology as she was with the fact that it was now seemingly gone.

  Jack and his dad laughed at her, at her fear of anything new. Jack used to get angry, now his frustration was tempered by what he had learned about the innate differences between women and men, and how women were just more afraid by design and to hate them for it would be tantamount -he had just learned that word too- tantamount to hating men for their aggression. It would be unfair in all cases , he thought .

  Jack slid his finger over the tab of the packaging and it all collapsed onto itself and all that remined was a cube, brownish, the size of a die. He picked it up and set it on the knee of his mother who was still Indian legged next to his father and smiling and wide eyed and Jack could now tell, as he rose on his knees and looked slightly down on her face, that her eyes were in fact wet, and her cheeks, in fact, red. And when her lips parted they had little thin threads of saliva between them, as all her insides were roiling and turning fluids over and frothing a bit.

  He understood why, well, as best a boy can. So, he patted her on the knee and retrieved the refuse from the packa
ging and smiled as warmly as he could at her and told her he loved her to which see nodded and let two lines of clearwater run from each blue-gray eye. The water parted each thin red cheek and continuing on to her trembling smile in the face of these last few days with her son.

  III. 2012 e.v.

  The road wove through the landscape like a zipper that held each side together to cover something the earth didn’t want anyone to see.

  The mountains were to their starboard side as they rode the chopper south, and the prairie of the eastern plains was tan and barren from winter and to their port. The wind blew off the slopes and across the road and he -and she- leaned into the wind to keep going straight as they then navigated the S turns that combined with a rise and a fall of elevation. Her stomach whirled and she felt like a girl and she squeezed her arms all the way around his waist.

  It was the only place on him thin and she felt like running at least one arm up his back when they were going straight, but as they leaned and floated over these hills she just wanted to close her eyes and bury herself in the man. The bike seemed to lean over way too far for her liking, but once she got used to it, it was actually fun. She had only ever been on the back of a crotch-rocket with her uncle back in Nebraska and that was just up and down the road they lived on.

  This was totally different , she felt, it was the landscape and the size of the bike and the power that seemed like sitting on 500-pounds of dynamite or a tiger that had just woken up from being tranquilized . The air was cold, but the sun was hot, and they had adequate clothes for winter riding he assured her. People looked at them and smiled or gave thumbs up, and she figured out that other people, too, thought they were cool. It was not like any bike she had ever seen before, but that didn’t mean much.