by G. R. Carter
The world was still terrifying after all these years, just on a much different scale now.
His wife waited for him at the bottom of the weathered concrete stairs, huddled under her own coat against the cold. Celeste Ford didn’t say a word to him as he reached the last step. They turned side by side onto the well-patched sidewalk and began the walk to the Capitol Building, built over a hundred and fifty years before as the Shelby County Courthouse.
It was early, the sun not yet completely visible but trying to fill Broadway Street with dawn’s light. Despite the hour, folks in sturdy coats and hats filled the streets and sidewalks, moving briskly to some necessary task. Most nodded to Sam, respectful to both the brother of Founder Alex Hamilton and Sam’s own accomplishments. Few gave the same acknowledgement to Celeste, despite her position as Chief Engineer of the Republic’s Wizards. She was lost in her thoughts, not bothering to make the same effort Sam did despite being her own version of Republic royalty – the granddaughter of one of the original Wizards. Her job contributed to their time apart, busy as she was traveling and inspecting factories and farms spread throughout the provinces.
They turned on to Main Street and the glow of electric light spilled out from well-tended storefronts, pushing back the cold and dark. The city’s soy-diesel generators were now aided by a hydroelectric plant built into the dam of Lake Shelbyville by the Wizards, another leap in creating a safe and productive civilization in the ruins of what had been the world’s greatest nation. Rationing was still required for most goods and services, but electricity no longer had to be, at least not here in the capital.
When Sam Hamilton was a boy, nearly all storefronts on the streets of Shelbyville, Illinois sat empty and neglected. Like most small Midwestern towns, the quintessential county seat suffered from government policies that bled rural areas dry. The heart of the middle class was emptied for the benefit of huge metropolises. Shelby County’s manufacturing and agricultural backbone was slowly stripped over time, leaving behind a collection of little villages as empty as their downtown facades, trying to hold out for a miracle – grasping any lifeline that could help them survive just one more generation.
Phillip Hamilton did what he could to help the county survive. The Shelby County Cooperative he founded gave the surrounding area their own renewable fuel source. The Cooperative reorganized local schools, reestablished law enforcement, even created their own scrip-based currency. Every day was another attempt at forming a sustainable local economy, a place to call home for future generations otherwise fleeing at the first opportunity. Unfortunately, all that effort was just a holding action, touch-and-go until the very end.
The irony that struck Sam now was that the end of the urban world had been just the beginning for his little hometown. The Okaw Province counted far more residents than its Shelby County ancestor. Even he didn’t know how many souls inhabited the province at this point. The population inside Shelbyville’s walls – they’d dropped the well-intentioned but poorly-received idea of renaming the town after his father – was much bigger but somewhat throttled for space. Outside the walls, however, new homes were being built at a breathtaking rate. The haphazard building practices tested the Hamiltons’ libertarian leanings of leaving each person to do what they wished – poor sanitation cared not for political theory.
The same growth story held true for Findlay, Windsor, Strasburg, and even the rebuilt Tower Hill. All nearby towns now far exceeded their pre-Reset population. There was a kind of gravity that formed near any capital city. Immigrants desperately seeking safety in the middle of the rapidly-expanding Republic joined with an exploding birth rate to create the groundswell. The presence of so many children thirteen and younger told the story of a quieter world, one of closer relationships and no nightly distractions.
Commerce seemed to be following closely behind. Those once-empty Main Street storefronts now bustled with activity. Sam continued to acknowledge citizens as they stepped in and out of repainted doorways to do business with eager proprietors inside. The pride of ownership in these old buildings was palpable. You could see it in the clean, if still cracked and chipped, sidewalks. The brick facades of had been repaired, cleaned, and tuck-pointed, the front windows spotless and packed with handmade signs and goods. All prices were quoted in Quarterbushels, even with some gold and silver coins beginning to recirculate. All other currency in Republic lands was still backed by a Quarter-bushel of soybeans; the Constitution strictly forbade any fiat currency. Using the Quarter coins of the old United States as scrip helped make sure lessons of the old world would never be forgotten.
Wagons hitched behind giant Belgian-breed horses – motorized vehicles were forbidden on the interior streets of the town – slowly made their way down the black-patched street. Those old enough to be adults at the time of the Reset recognized the wagons; many began life as some of the millions of commercial trailers once crisscrossing the continent. Tires that had seen every corner of North America now lived out the rest of their lives barely traveling a few miles a day. Anything useful was reused, multiple times if possible. In most products of the new world, there was a touch of the old still to be found.
Smoke rose from chimneys high above the rooftops of the two- and three-story buildings. Proprietors once more lived in apartments above their businesses, creating an economic weight of its own. Competition was fierce amongst the stores, each looking to establish trading relationships with remote farmers. Nearly every acre within the borders of the Okaw was now claimed by Land Lords and subsistence farmers alike. There were disputes, of course, most of which were handled locally but a few worked their way up to the Founder’s Chair. Alex always made time to review those cases, or happily handed them off to Sam whenever he could.
Land Lords, mostly large landowners and successful farmers, expected the Hamiltons to side with them in disputes. After all, there were no more prominent Land Lords than the Hamilton family. Since no one who served the Republic took a salary, each of the four Hamilton children had their own working farms to make a living. Though with their travels and responsibilities, each of their estates were left to operate under the watchful eye of faithful allies.
Land Lords contributed almost all tax revenue for the Republic, a fact that caused them to believe they deserved preferential treatment. Many left the capital sorely disappointed when the law was read in their opponent’s favor. They often had to be reminded that giving equal rights to fledgling farmers was the price they paid for being eligible to run for Senate and employ enough labor so their children could go to Old Main for advanced schooling. The First Founder was a small-time farmer drowning in the pre-Reset world of complicated corporate law. Bias toward the little guy was engrained in the Hamilton children by their parents, despite the system of government they’d accidently established. Their decisions often bore that upbringing.
Sam knew such decisions had political consequences. Not everyone was thrilled by the direction his brother was taking the Republic. Here in their home province few would ever go further than grousing about this or that. Free speech certainly wasn’t illegal, and after all, they were farmers – complaining was their birthright. Despite any ruckus, though, few questioned Alex Hamilton’s right to lead, nor even his right to decide matters broad in scope.
But not everyone agreed he made the right decisions, and some of the more vocal critics lived uncomfortably close to home for Sam.
“He’s going to send you off again to who-knows-where,” Celeste said, finally breaking the icy silence between them. “That’s why he called us in this morning. You’ve only been home three days, you’ve only seen the kids for a couple of hours.”
“He’ll send me where I can be of best use to the Republic,” Sam answered in a more defensive tone than he intended.
He couldn’t see it without looking, but he felt her eyes roll with disgust.
Sam felt alone, even being with Celeste for the last 48 hours. He realized he’d been emotionally distant towards
his wife since nearly being killed in the skies over Vincennes. Celeste blamed Alex for that, too, and Sam hated to admit he felt the same way sometimes. He’d volunteered for the mission that left many of his fellow pilots dead, he could have said no and left the attack to others. Honor and duty demanded his participation.
Who could he talk to about what he’d seen, the terror he’d faced? Only Alex could relate on a peer-to-peer level, and Sam felt the need to be strong for his brother, even if he resented him for it now. Essie could understand; she’d lost her fiancé and a town she cared deeply about. She’d been involved in fierce fighting and survived a forced landing…but now the few shreds of intelligence they’d received said she was someplace out west with the survivors of ARK. He tried to tell himself she’d be fine, she’d survived against long odds before. Getting her back home safely dominated his thoughts when he let his guard down. Even his visits to the Domicile to speak with Bishop Hart didn’t seem to help so much anymore.
“You’ve got a choice, you know,” Celeste said quietly, breaking his concentration.
For what seemed like the hundredth time, he answered the statement with his identical reply: “No, I don’t.”
Two Silver Shields appeared in hats and coats matching Sam’s, walking towards them with the confidence of young warriors trained to a razor’s edge. They were tall, one male and one female. Sam recognized them as the eldest children of prominent Land Lords from opposite ends of the county. He didn’t know if they were a couple; many of the Okaw’s elite military force were – unofficially, of course.
As one, they both placed a hand over their heart and said, “Against the Storm” to Sam as they walked past. A little twinkle in their eye told Sam he’d made their day with his acknowledgement and reply. Despite growing to adulthood as the First Founder’s son, and now the current Founder’s brother, he still felt uncomfortable being looked at as a celebrity. He did his best to play the part, encouraged by Alex to use their status to boost morale amongst a highly motivated, yet drastically outnumbered people.
“Don’t say it, please,” Sam said without looking at his wife.
“I won’t, but you know it’s true,” she answered.
He finally turned to look at her while they continued to walk. “You know that’s exactly like saying it, right?”
She shrugged. “Your brother is a psychopath who thinks he’s Alexander the Great reincarnate. He’s got his own band of fanatic followers. And you and your church give him the rope we’re all going to hang with.”
Sam sighed deeply, outsized and dramatic, unintentionally loud though the exasperation was truly felt.
“You can huff and puff all you want to, Sam,” Celeste continued. “I know how smart, how sane you are. You’ve got to see how all this playing at empire is wrong. It’s 180 degrees from what your father intended.”
The mathematical reference was natural for her as the Chief Engineer of the Republic’s Wizard Engineering Corps. Sam made note of it with his defense. “You’re a scientist, Celeste. You know there is such a thing as black and white, right and wrong. You can’t hide from evil.”
“Yes, but who defines evil, Sam? In my world, the scientific world, we can see the cause of problems. We can figure out solutions and apply them the most efficient way.”
“I can clearly see the cause of our problems. The Caliphate is our problem.”
She shook her head vigorously. “Who defines that? Maybe the Caliphate thinks we’re the problem that needs solving.”
“Then we fight.”
“Why does it always come down to fighting?” she asked. “I’ve talked to people from other provinces and they agree. If we just had the resources, we could rebuild the world the way it was before.”
“In the world before, you would have left our little town for some big engineering school on the coasts.”
“Would that have been so bad?” she asked.
Sam didn’t reply to the unintended slight. He knew she dreamed about what life would have been like in the old world of unlimited technology and resources. The scenario where the two of them got together in that world was highly unlikely, but that never seemed to cross her mind.
“We could have our own network connecting the hospitals, the factories,” she continued. “We’ve got a long list of improvement projects we can’t get done because Alex has the Wizards building new weapons. He claims he wants peace, but somehow we always end up with another war!”
Sam said nothing in reply – there was nothing left to say. He wasn’t going to convince her, and she was going to keep pushing until…
“What is it you want, Celeste?” he suddenly asked, tone sharp as a blade.
She stopped walking and looked at him. The two had suffered this same argument, on the rare occasions they’d been in the same place, for over a year – longer, maybe, now that she thought about it. But this angle was new, and it caught her off-guard.
“I don’t understand the question,” she said as she stalled for time to think it through.
He also stopped, standing straight but with arms now folded against his broad chest. “You know good and well what the question is. You always say Alex and I are wrong, so what would you do differently?” Sam asked. His eyes were a combination of blue and green – everyone said they changed color depending on his mood. They sparkled emerald now.
“If you don’t know by now…” she stammered.
Sam pressed. “Quit stalling for time. I know that trick. Tell me, what would you do different?”
Celeste stood monument still, trying to craft what amounted to a policy statement on a cold sidewalk before she’d had her second cup of Aronia coffee. She reached for the words that might change the mind of the man she loved, the father of her children. A simple sentence or paragraph, a turn of phrase Sam could grasp on to, then pass on to Alex. A magic key she could use to unlock logic amid this crazy world.
Sam inclined his head for a moment, his mouth taught between a frown and a pained grin. Satisfied his wife had no answer, he offered nothing more. He began to walk again, the pace and stride of a warrior carrying him towards his destination.
Celeste didn’t follow, she just stood and watched him walk away. For the first time since they’d met, he didn’t wait for her.
Chapter Four
Republic Interrogation Center
Okaw Province
Kathy Kingsley was worried. Not the kind of worry simply forced from the mind, a dread to get through and move on; this was deep seated, the worry that seeps into your bones and causes claustrophobia to envelop every rational thought.
She’d been in the custody of Rebecca Hamilton and her henchmen for days now. Only a dribble of information about the outside world filtered in. Most of it she figured for lies – why wouldn’t they torment her with tales of ARK’s demise? Hamilton was trying to break her, she knew that. They needed the information she possessed, probing her to find some weakness in ARK’s defenses. Kathy kept her head and wits, fighting with all her might to resist the mind tricks of Red Hawk interrogators.
Days wove into nights, still she lingered here – why hadn’t Tony figured out a way to get her released? Maybe she’d been too hard on her cousin. She would have never let any harm befall him. Once she overthrew him and became Premier, Kathy would have made sure he was well taken care of for the rest of his life. Anyone close to the man knew he was losing his grip on the ever-expanding empire. Exile would have been the best medicine for him. After all, he couldn’t even control his own wife…
Stupid slut. Nicole had batted her pretty blue eyes at Tony and that was it. The ruthless iron-boned man who seized life and could control something like ARK was gone as soon as Nicole bedded him. Then when the little witch started popping out urchins he went totally off his game.
Kathy would figure out a way to get rid of her and the little playground she had set up in Independence. ARK had no room for autonomous cities, underground or otherwise. Maybe, once things were back to normal, she
’d even let Tony come back and run things again. Let him be the figurehead, and Kathy would be the power behind the throne.
Of course, all that was on hold until she could get out of here. Wherever here was. The Red Hawks had moved her a few times, always blindfolded until arriving at another dingy room with no windows. Here the mold smell made her cringe. Paint was peeling off the shedding drywall and piling up in the corners. Unregulated moisture and temperature changes wreaked havoc on the interiors of buildings built before the Great Reset. More modern construction skipped the artificial materials that made up the façade of the previous generation’s efforts. Nature’s unrelenting work to reclaim what was hers went unchecked on these old buildings. It couldn’t be stopped, just delayed.
She sat on a cold metal folding chair, matched with a small old-style card table holding a stack of books. She refused to look directly at the stack. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the titles in the meager light shining down from a single bulb up above. The musty smell that accompanied real pre-Reset books filled her nostrils, making her a little nauseous. She’d never been a reader before the world collapsed and she certainly wouldn’t be persuaded by whatever propaganda the Red Hawks wanted her to read.
Dried fruits and nuts sat on a fine china plate beside the books. Her appetite escaped her. She wasn’t playing martyr and refusing to eat, but the constant waiting, wondering about the unknown, gnawed at her inside.
He will figure out a way to get me out, she assured herself. Tony would help her, he always had. They’d put their differences aside; they were family, after all. He needs me!