An Unlikely Phoenix

by Frank Zafiro

  Ultimately, these two developments created a situation in which the average citizen became even more disassociated with the politicians elected to serve, and less informed about what these same politicians were actually doing on his/her behalf.

  Into this morass of misinformation and misunderstanding, a new medium evolved to fill the information void. Anonymous journalists, dubbed shadow bloggers, posted on sites on the deep web, and as the government crackdown intensified, the dark web.

  — From An Unlikely Phoenix by Reed Ambrose

  ALEX DIALED THE NUMBER using his personal cell phone. The after-market scrambler was installed, and while he suspected it would keep telemarketers and other legitimate businesses from monitoring his activity, he had no illusions about the NSA’s ability to intercept the call. Ryan and Nathalie weren’t extremists by any stretch, but his brother had refused to tow the party line on the police department, and as a result, was mildly suspect. Nathalie was a journalist on the fringe of the mainstream, and therefore even more suspect. Normally, he doubted anyone would be interested in their conversations, but when his own notoriety as a senator in a potentially secessionist state was thrown into the equation, he guessed enough red flags would pop up to attract someone with headphones on to listen in.

  Still, he selected voice only, hoping that the lack of video would make a smaller digital footprint, and perhaps escape notice. He liked to think he didn’t care about this internal security, but the prospect bothered him. It smacked of the KGB of the First Soviet Union, and so rankled him. He was old enough to remember a very different America, and he found it frustrating to be exposed to the more recent developments with regard to personal freedoms, or the lack thereof. It seemed more and more pervasive every year, ushered in under the auspices of national security. Even in California, one of the states which had steadfastly resisted the whittling away of these freedoms, he saw things that troubled him. And when a call went out of state, things were even more restrictive.

  Ryan picked up on the other end after just three rings. “Hello?” he said neutrally.

  “Hey, little brother.”

  “Alex! How’s it going?”

  “Same as always. You?”

  Ryan didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “It’s been a little tough, if I’m being honest.”

  “Your rehab, you mean?”

  “That’s been going well, actually. I’m not a hundred percent, but I’m starting to get the feeling I’m never going to get back to where I was before the shooting.”

  “So you’re still not at full duty?”

  “No. They’ve got me on modified assignment. I’m on a desk, pushing paper.”

  “Case work?”

  Ryan laughed. “I wish. No, I’m processing found property, community meeting requests, things like that. They’re keeping me pretty sequestered these days. Nothing sensitive, that’s for sure. I’d need to join the party to get anything better.”

  “That’s the truth of it, huh?”

  “That’s the truth of it. I’m marked. I don’t salute at roll call, so they call me a shamer. Honestly, Alex, if Marcus and I weren’t ambushed and shot like we were, I don’t know if I’d still be on the job. Party membership is up over eighty-five percent now.”

  Alex gave a low whistle. “That’s high, even for a red state.”

  “Missouri might be red, but St. Louis has always been blue. But I don’t think these distinctions really matter anymore. People seem to be falling in line, especially after the nationalization.”

  “The president is winning the hearts and minds of the people, then?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe cops are just pragmatists. They’ve seen the writing on the wall, and are going along just to get along.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.”

  “How’s Nathalie?”

  “Good. She’s gearing up for the concert tonight.”

  “Concert?”

  “The Concert for Freedom, down at the Homeland Security Administration Arena.”

  “Who’s playing?”

  “Taylor Vera.”

  “Never heard of her.”

  “Well, you’ve heard her pop songs. They’re everywhere, including commercials. Anyway, Nate Crider will be there, too.”

  “Now, there’s a show worth going to. Best blues I’ve ever heard live was him down at BB’s.”

  “Yeah, Nathalie is hoping to get an interview with him for The Archway. Oh, and they’ve got Springsteen on the bill, too.”

  “Springsteen? Seriously? He’s gotta be eighty!”

  “The young guard and the elder statesman, I guess,” Ryan said.

  Alex pursed his lips. Springsteen had never been part of his musical repertoire, but resided more firmly in the music of his parents’ generation. But as a venerable rock legend, Alex imagined that had a voice that was difficult to silence. As much as the Party and the President had managed to stifle unfavorable reporting, some people were harder to sideline than others. They’d manage to accomplish it with some celebrities, either by ridiculing them or misrepresenting them to the public. Others cut themselves off at the knees through scandalous behavior, either real or rumored. But some had proven to be impervious to this trend. It took long credibility with a wide swath of the public, and a secure place in rock history. Alex supposed Springsteen fit that criteria easily enough, but he hadn’t heard much about him or from him in recent years.

  “Seems like they’re going a little too old school,” he mused.

  “Says the guy who works for a woman in her eighties.”

  “I don’t work for the Governor.”

  “Well, you work with her. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ve heard people say that eighty is the new sixty, or something like that.”

  “I guess so,” Alex said. He figured that at some point, that reasoning was going to fall flat, as math and biology were eventually going to catch up. He changed the subject. “How about Nathalie’s grandfather clause appeal of the immigration changes?”

  “Still pending,” Ryan said.

  “What are you going to do if the appeal doesn’t come back before the year is up?”

  “We don’t know for sure.”

  “Can she go to Greece?”

  “Sure, but she doesn’t want to. I don’t want to. This is our home.”

  “Of course. I was just thinking you might go for a while, until things can get straightened out.”

  “They’re telling us now that if she leaves the country for longer than sixty days at a time, her application resets.”

  “The appeal, you mean?”

  “No, the whole thing. The twelve year wait.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous.”

  “That is par for the course these days.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alex said again. “I wish I could help.”

  “It sounds like you’ve got plenty of your own to deal with out there.”

  “True,” he admitted. This was typical Ryan. Always focused on everyone else. “How’s Melina through all of this?”

  “She’s a kid. She’s not aware of most of it. And kids are resilient. Look at us and what we made it through.”

  Alex smiled. If the two of them could survive parents like theirs, that was proof that any kid could survive most anything.

  “She’s the biggest reason we’re fighting,” Ryan said. “She deserves a future.”

  “Yes, she does,” Alex agreed. “We all do.”

  Ryan was quiet on his end of the line. Then he asked, “Are you all right, brother?”

  Alex nodded, though he knew Ryan couldn’t see it. “I’m fine. It’s just been a while, and I wanted to check in.”

  “All right. But I’m here if you need me. You know that, right?”

  “I do. And same back at you.”

  “Fair enough. By the way, the Blues are playing the Sharks next week. I’d say good luck, but I wouldn’t mean it.”

  “I’m always torn when they play,” Alex admitted.
“Not so much when it’s Anaheim or L.A., but San Jose has become my team, you know?”

  “You’ve lived in California for too long, if that’s the case. Blues for life, remember?”

  “I remember. But it’s kinda hard to argue with a Stanley Cup.”

  “Ouch,” Ryan joked. “Traitor.”

  “I’ll watch the game live, if I can. Maybe we can watch at the same time. It’ll be like we’re watching together.”

  “As long as you’re prepared to cry when your boys get crushed.”

  “I’ll have a box of tissues at the ready.”

  “Good.”

  “Though I don’t know how I’ll be able to hand them to you from this distance.”

  “Zing,” Ryan said. “Nice.”

  “Good to talk to you, brother.”

  “You, too. Take care, huh?”

  “I will. Give the girls my love.”

  Ryan assured him he would, and Alex ended the call. A small lump had risen in his throat, and yet he realized he was smiling at the same time. He needed to find a way to go see his family sometime soon.

  Alex checked the time, and headed to the Governor’s house.

  GOVERNOR SARANDON SMILED at the assembled group. “Thank you all for coming. I’m looking around the room and when I see my most trusted advisors and the leaders of the Senate gathered together to accomplish one end, it warms my heart. I believe this is an important meeting, and I’m grateful that you’re all here to be a part of it.”

  There was a light murmur of agreement in the room.

  “We are at a momentous crossroads,” she continued. “A time where the future destiny of the people of California will be decided for better or worse. Our job is to make sure it is for the better.”

  “Better, Madame Governor,” said August Emerson, “means without facing war.”

  “You’re right, of course,” the Governor replied warmly. “War is ugly. When I was younger...” A small, self-deprecating smile touched her lips. “Much, much younger...and along with many others of my generation, we stood against an unlawful war. We gathered on college campuses and we filled the streets, all to try to force our government to stop making war on our behalf.”

  “Vietnam was a terrible chapter in our nation’s great history,” August allowed. “But at least it was a foreign conflict. What we are considering, and frankly I am astounded that it is even a topic for discussion, is a domestic war. A civil war. For a second time. The first civil war was over a hundred and sixty years ago and wounds from that bloody conflict have yet to completely heal.”

  “My dear Senator, you speak as if I prefer war, or that it is a foregone conclusion. I assure you, the reason we are all here is to find a path that avoids war.”

  “The only path that avoids war is reconciliation,” August said firmly.

  The Governor smiled at him. “Well, surely you will allow that we can disagree on that assessment. And for the purpose of our meeting, will you at least entertain that possibility.”

  August raised his glass of bourbon. “Of course, Madame Governor.”

  “Good,” she said, then turned to the rest of the assembled group. “Let’s start where we can all agree. Does anyone find the ongoing actions of the federal government acceptable? Particularly those of the White House?”

  No one spoke up.

  “Well, on that we agree, at least.”

  “If little else,” muttered August, loud enough for all to hear.

  The Governor ignored him. “I came to politics late in my life, after a long career in acting and a shorter one in activism. Obviously, I wasn’t the first actor to be governor of California, and I think it is important to respect the history of this office. I remember another actor-turned-governor who went on to become President. And though I can say that our political beliefs are very dissimilar, I will say this about President Reagan. He believed in what he stood for. He lived it. And we must do the same.”

  This is surreal, Alex thought. He was sitting there discussing possible secession with Governor Susan Sarandon while she quoted Ronald Reagan. He briefly felt as if he were truly through the looking glass.

  “I admired something else about President Reagan,” the Governor continued. “Something he and President Obama had in common. They both paid great attention to the lessons of history. So what has history to teach us about our current situation?

  “It’s not a simple question, my friends. Nor is it one dimensional. We can explore how this President rose to power legitimately and compare it to post-World War I Germany. In many ways, the way the White House has whittled away at our individual and states’ rights to consolidate power mirrors that same period. The vilification of people who have some kind of differentness about them is textbook, not just from Adolf Hitler but virtually every despot throughout history.”

  “Excuse me, Madame Governor, but I must protest.” August’s face had reddened slightly, though Alex also noticed his glass was empty, so it could have been that. “Are you truly comparing our President to Adolf Hitler? The New American Party to the...” he stopped, refusing to say the word.

  “The Nazis?” the Governor tilted her head at him slightly. “Yes, Senator, I suppose I am. At least insofar as the course of history in both instances is very similar. And if that’s the case, we can project what our future may look like as a nation, as a people, if we continue on this course.”

  “I simply cannot agree with that analogy,” August said. “I reject it.”

  “I wish we all could,” she replied. “But we must face the world as it is, not as we wish it to be. The way we wish it to be should be our goal.”

  “I agree,” Miriam said before August could reply. “In our draft of a Declaration of Independence, we took your regard for history seriously. Much like the original Declaration made by the thirteen colonies, we outline our grievances so that it is clear why we are seceding from what this country has become.”

  “Your grievances are valid,” August allowed. “But let us give them redress from within the system.” He turned to the Governor. “Perhaps, Madame, if you were to consider a run for the White House in 2032...”

  She waved his suggestion away with chuckle. “Oh, August, that is no solution. I’m not young enough for that battle, even if it was one we could win. Besides, I’ve already exceeded my own abilities with the Governorship.”

  The group laughed generously, if a little longer than the joke merited. The tension in the room dissipated slightly.

  “My friends, I believe that all of the discussion about whether or not California should secede has already occurred amongst yourselves. I know I have had these same discussions with my advisors. We all know what the President has done, and how this impacts our nation. Just considering the topic of immigration alone is enough for us to consider going our own way. And so while I respect those of you who favor reconciliation,” she cast a glance toward August, “I would like to have a practical discussion about what would happen if we did choose to secede. How should we go about it? What does secession look like?”

  “Like foolishness,” August grumbled, then held up his hand. “My apologies, Madame Governor. I shall henceforth curb my inclination to make such editorial observations. You may consider me bringing my full powers of intelligence to bear up on the scenario you propose.”

  “Thank you.” She looked around at the rest of the group. “Now, where do we start?”

  “I, for one, will start with a refill,” August said, rising from his seat and making his way to the wet bar.

  “What about the other states?” Alex asked. “Alaska and Hawaii have been very outspoken, and there’s been significant rumblings in Washington and Oregon, too. Have you had talks with the governors of those states?”

  “Of course,” the Governor said. “Hawaii is adamantly in favor of secession, and has been ever since the White House pushed through the repeal of gay marriage. But they won’t make the first move. They can’t.”

  “Tourism?” Héctor
Chavez guessed. “A lot of Americans vacation there.”

  The Governor shook her head. “No, there’d be enough foreign tourism to make up much of the difference. Governor Kakuda is more concerned with the U.S. Navy. If Hawaii secedes first and no one follows, the federal government will have little difficulty responding in force. Someone else will have to lead the way.”

  “Alaska, then.” Alex offered, though he said it more for the benefit of moving the conversation forward. He already knew the answer.

  “Much more likely since the recall of Governor Palin, I’ll wager,” August said smugly, sitting down again with his fresh drink. “I guess her second go-round was even less successful than her first.”

  “Perhaps,” replied the Governor. “But if the new Governor decides to go it alone, I’m certain he intends to petition Canada for annexation.”

  “We should do the same,” said Gregory. “Canada is the nation that we used to be, or at least imagined ourselves to be.”

  “Spoken like a true patriot,” August said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

  “There’s more to patriotism than blind allegiance!”

  “I believe we are all now very aware of one another’s views,” the Governor interceded. “Let’s continue to focus on practical matters.” She gave Gregory a sad look. “I understand your position, Gregory. I love Canada. Tim was a huge hockey fan, and that long ago served as an entrée to Canadian culture for me. In the long run, I think what you propose is a potentially viable option. If,” she glanced sideways at Alex, “Canada will have us.”

  Alex suppressed a smile.

  “Of course they’d have us,” Gregory argued. “We’d double their GDP, and the value of California—”

  “In the end, you may be right,” the Governor interrupted gently. “But Canada is never going to entertain a petition from us, at least not when we first secede. Not until –”

  “How do you know?” Gregory persisted. “If you look at the cultural and political affinity we have with—”