An Unlikely Phoenix

by Frank Zafiro

  He didn’t answer right away. He thought he’d known a lot of things, but over the past year, he’d started to doubt some of them.

  “Do you want to talk about the other night?” she asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “All right,” she said easily. “When you’re ready.”

  “We have more pressing business,” he said. “The amnesty period is ending soon. And you’re probably still under surveillance. Hell, I probably am, at this point.”

  “What should we do?”

  “California seems like the best option. Maybe one we should have already taken.”

  “But you don’t want to leave.”

  He shook his head. “St. Louis is my home. And letting those bastards drive me away from the job...it feels wrong. Wrong for me, and somehow wrong for Marcus.”

  “You did nothing wrong,” she said.

  “Tell that to Gleeson. Or Potulny.”

  “So we stay.”

  “If we stay, you’ll be deported. I’ll lose you, Melina will lose you. And Potulny made it clear he’d take a special interest in keeping us from getting a visa to see you.”

  “He is a rising star in the Party,” she said. “I’ve been researching him lately. There is talk in Washington of bringing him on board as an assistant director of the FBI.”

  “The FBI?” Ryan said, indignant. “How can they do that? He’s not even an agent!”

  “All police are national now, remember? Besides, it is an appointed position. The Director can fill it with anyone.”

  Ryan sighed, then lowered his head and rubbed his eyes. “You know what galls me the most? Even more than a piece of shit like him being rewarded with more power?”

  “What?”

  “This is a still a good police department. It is full of good people who do a hard job. Yeah, there are a few assholes. But you take any group of three thousand people, I don’t care if it’s three thousand Buddhist monks, and you’re going to have a few assholes. They’re an exception. Most of these cops are there, trying to make a difference. And yeah, maybe they made a few political compromises to manage to keep their careers, but life is full of compromise.”

  “It’s full of rationalizations, too,” Nathalie said quietly.

  “You would know,” he snapped back.

  Nathalie absorbed the comment without reply.

  He didn’t apologize. Instead, he continued, “My point is that these are good people. Look how they handled that concert you were at. Very professionally.”

  “The terrorist threat was manufactured as an excuse,” Nathalie said evenly. “And the reported violence inside was an outright fabrication.”

  “Maybe so, but the cops who were dispatched there didn’t have anything to do with that. They responded to a situation, and they handled it. And no one got hurt.”

  Nathalie hesitated, then shook her head. “I respect what you do, what they do, but what you’re talking about sounds suspiciously like just following orders.”

  “It isn’t,” he shot back. “It’s handling a difficult set of circumstances in a safe way. An honorable way. These are the men and women that make up most of my department. I might not agree with the leadership, but I am proud to stand with my brothers and sisters. And it eats at me to think some worm like Potulny or Gleeson can take that away from me.”

  “So you have a choice, it seems,” Nathalie said quietly.

  “What choice is that?” he asked, even though he knew.

  “Your brethren, or your family.”

  He shook his head slowly. “You’re doing the same thing they’re trying to do.”

  “Who?”

  “Potulny. The Party. You’re trying to box me into an either/or choice.”

  “No, amour. I am merely telling you how I see things.”

  Her tablet dinged, then immediately dinged a second time. She hesitated, then lifted it to look at it. Her eyes glided over the alert, then she turned her gaze to Ryan.

  “The President is giving an interview to Paula Creighton,” she told him. “The White House release said it will contain a major policy announcement.”

  “Is Creighton another shadow blogger?” he jabbed.

  “I have no idea. But I think we should watch this. I have a feeling it will affect us both.”

  “A feeling? Or do you know something?”

  “Just a feeling,” she said.

  Nathalie rose and went into the living room. Ryan followed.

  “Miri, turn on television,” she was saying as he entered.

  Miri’s digital voice responded immediately. “Do you have a preference, Nathalie?”

  “CNN,” she told Miri. “Volume at fifty-eight percent.”

  The TV switched on, and CNN appeared on screen. Nathalie sat down at one end of the couch. Ryan sat at the other. They waited in silence for ten minutes while CNN repeatedly announced the impending Creighton interview with the President, along with a few analysts speculating on what the announcement would be. Then intro music played, and the camera zoomed in on Paula Creighton. She greeted the audience as the camera switched to a wider view of her and the President seated next to each other at the high anchor’s table.

  “Good evening, America. I am here with the President of the United States for an exclusive interview regarding immigration policy.” She turned to the President. “Thank you, sir, for appearing here and agreeing to answer my questions.”

  “You’re welcome,” the President said. “Happy to do it.” Then he wagged a finger at her. “Although, Paula, some people say you’re my harshest critic. Some of my advisors told me not to come here tonight. But I told them that you might be a left winger, but you were a smart woman and knew how to behave.”

  Creighton looked mildly shocked at the word ‘behave’, but seemingly decided to ignore it. “Well, we’re grateful that you took the interview, Mr. President.”

  “I like your hair, by the way.”

  “Thank you.” Creighton breezed past that comment as well. “Sir, the White House press release mentioned a change in federal immigration policy. Could you—”

  “Yes,” the President interrupted. “I’m making another change. Not really a big change – that’s coming – but more a matter of sewing up some loose ends.”

  “What loose ends?”

  “Well, here it is. One of the things I’ve become increasingly concerned about is American citizenship. More to the point, about how only true Americans should be granted citizenship. So effective immediately, any child born without both parents being U.S. citizens will not be automatically granted citizenship.”

  Creighton blinked, clearly surprised.

  Ryan felt his stomach twinge in sympathy. If that had been the case when Melina was born, she wouldn’t be an American.

  Creighton recovered quickly. “What is the reasoning behind this proposed change, Mr. President?”

  “Oh, it’s not proposed,” the President said. “We’re doing it. And listen, Paula...this is just to close up some loopholes that a lot of foreign kids were using to take advantage of the wealth of our nation. Some of these kids have grown up to be radicalized, you know, and then we’ve ended up with terrorists in our own back yard. Not good. Not good at all.”

  “Have there been documented instances of this?” Creighton asked. “Examples of children born—”

  “I’d love to share examples with you, Paula, I really would. Because there are many. Very, very many. But this information is very sensitive, and the CIA and the FBI have asked me to respect the security level attached to this intelligence. And I have agreed, because I don’t want to put Americans in harm’s way.”

  Creighton opened her mouth to ask a follow up question, then stopped. A moment later, she seemed to switch directions. “Do you believe this will survive the inevitable legal challenges it will face?”

  “Of course. Let the extreme leftists out there take this through the courts. They can go all the way to the Supreme Court for all I care. I trust th
em to make the right decision, both legally and morally. This is about protecting true Americans, Paula.”

  “Yes, sir, but we’re talking about children here.”

  “Osama bin Laden was a child once,” the President said. “And look, we’re not doing anything harmful to any of these kids. We’re simply saying, hey – you’re not a true American yet.”

  “Yet?” Creighton echoed.

  “Yet,” the President confirmed. “They can apply for citizenship, of course. And one American parent is a big plus, a real positive on their side. But this will allow us to vet every citizen before they can become one. It’s vital for the safety of this nation, and I’m proud to say I’ve had the courage to move forward with this.”

  “So are you saying—”

  “Here’s what I’m saying, Paula. This is the first step in a massive overhaul with regard to U.S. citizenship. First off, this new rule will be retroactive to the past forty years.”

  “Forty...excuse me, Mr. President, but are you saying that someone who has citizenship now on the basis of one American parent will have their citizenship...revoked?”

  Ryan’s stomach sank. He glanced at Nathalie and saw a mixture of horror and anger in her eyes.

  On the screen, the President smirked. “Not revoked. But reviewed, yes. Or call it confirmed. Either way, this gives us the tools we need to ensure the safety of true Americans in what is becoming a much more dangerous world. I mean, let’s face it – no leader ever, in the history of civilization, has faced a world this dangerous, like I have. So I’ve had to take action, necessary action.”

  “Pardon me for saying so, Mr. President, but this action doesn’t seem necessary. It seems extreme.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised you would say that. But we live in extreme times, so I’m forced to take measures that might seem extreme. But they are necessary, believe me. Very, very necessary.”

  “Mr. President...”

  “One more thing,” he interrupted again. “And I will just share this with you so that people can start getting used to the idea. This idea that citizenship is a birthright is outdated. We brought it over from the old country, from some sort of medieval arrangement. Things don’t work that way today. I mean, look at me. I’m a self-made man. I earned everything I have, and did it on my own. No one ever gave me anything. And that’s the way it should be with citizenship, too. Ideally, what I see us moving toward is no one being born a citizen. Instead, they should have to earn it. And this includes a full review of citizenship for every current citizen, by the way. Let’s find out who the true Americans are.”

  There was a long, shocked silence from Creighton. She recovered, though, and stumbled forward. “In this scenario you describe—”

  “Oh, it will happen,” he assured her.

  “—what would be the criteria? How would someone gain citizenship, or confirm their existing citizenship?”

  “I’m glad you asked. It will be based upon a simple question. Can you demonstrate your loyalty and service to this country? If the answer is yes, then bam, you’re in. But if not, then forget about it. Not happening.”

  “What does service look like?” Creighton asked, her tone still slightly dazed.

  “We’re still working that out,” the President said. “But there are some good ideas on the table. Military service, police service. I like the military. I like the police. They’re good people. Really good people.”

  “But you never served in the military, sir.”

  The President waved his hand dismissively. “No, but I could have. I would’ve been a good leader, a great general. But I did something different, something very important for this country, Paula. By being wealthy, I didn’t put a burden on the government, and with my wealth, I created businesses, and jobs. Tons of jobs. Real jobs that people were thrilled to have.”

  “Mr. President—”

  “And I paid taxes. Lots of taxes.”

  “So we’re talking about...?”

  “About driving the economy.”

  “No, sir. I meant, the criteria for citizenship.”

  “Oh.” He shrugged. “Maybe something like a merit-based citizenship, I don’t know. We’re still working on it.”

  “So you haven’t completed this policy yet?”

  “Not yet. We’re close. Still working out the rough edges, but we’ll get there.”

  “What about the people who are not considered citizens under this policy?”

  “What about them?”

  “Well, will they be deported, for example?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Not right away, anyway. If they were previously citizens, and they’re working towards earning citizenship again, I don’t see why we’d deport someone like that.”

  “But would there be restrictions?”

  “Some,” the President said. “They wouldn’t be able to vote in federal or state elections, for one. Or hold office.”

  “Own guns?”

  The President held up his hands. “Hey, I am not going to mess with anyone’s Second Amendment rights. I don’t care if you’re a citizen or not.”

  “Sir, that seems inconsistent. If we’re going to respect one aspect of the Constitution—”

  “Here’s what’s inconsistent, Paula. Liberals, who for decades droned on and on about the First Amendment while they were trying to grab every gun in sight.” He shook his head. “Men had the right to bear arms long before they ever had the right to vote or say what they wanted. It’s a sacred thing, and I don’t see any reason to mess with it. There’s nothing to fear about an armed citizen. Besides, we’re the government. We have the biggest guns.”

  “So a person whose citizenship is revoked—”

  “Reviewed, Paula. Don’t twist my words.”

  “All right. What you’re saying is that these former citizens won’t have voting rights.”

  “No,” he said firmly, “they won’t. But it’s not like they become invisible. We will count these non-citizens as part of the population for all other purposes.”

  “As a whole person?” Creighton asked, her tone slightly bitter. “Or three-fifths of a person?”

  The President shook his head. “Why would we –”

  An advisor leaned into his ear and whispered for a few seconds. The President’s eyes narrowed and his jaw set. He shook his head at Creighton in disappointment. “Typical,” he muttered. He reached for the microphone at his lapel. “This interview is over.”

  “When will this new policy go into effect, Mr. President?”

  “Not soon enough,” he snapped, dropping the small mic on the table and turning away.

  Creighton called after him, but he ignored her.

  “Miri, turn off the television,” Nathalie ordered, her voice hollow.

  The two of them stared at each other across the expanse from opposite ends of the couch. Neither spoke, but Ryan knew that neither of them was wondering any longer about what their course of action should be.

  Finally, Nathalie slid down the couch until she was next to Ryan. Tentatively, she put her head on his shoulder, resting against him. He could feel her trembling. For a moment, he didn’t move, but then he wrapped a protective arm around her.

  “Mon Dieu,” Nathalie whispered. “How can this be happening?”

  Ryan pulled her close, and said nothing. The truth was, he didn’t know the answer.

  Part IV: EVERY HUMAN HEART

  USA

  and

  California

  June 2029

  The desire for freedom resides in every human heart. And that desire cannot be contained forever by prison walls, or martial laws, or secret police. Over time, and across the Earth, freedom will find a way.

  George W. Bush,

  43rd U.S. President

  Chapter 22

  Civil unrest has a long and storied history woven throughout the tapestry of the human saga. People have rioted, they have protested peacefully, and they have seen attempts at the latter erupt into
the former due to the volatile and unpredictable nature of crowds. There has been civil unrest over bread, over taxes, over drafts, and over basic human rights. This unrest has happened all over the world, through various ages, and under all varieties of government. With this in mind, when the President announced the intent of the Extended Citizenship Act in 2029, it should have been little surprise to the White House that this action initially met with considerable unrest in multiple locations across the nation.

  However, in the final analysis, when examining the seeming lack of endurance and fortitude on the part of many of these protests, one must concede that perhaps the administration’s initial assessment of American apathy was not altogether inaccurate.

  — From An Unlikely Phoenix by Reed Ambrose

  RYAN WOKE BEFORE DAWN, unsure why. He felt Nathalie shift next to him, and could sense by her movement that she was awake, too. He rose from the bed and went to the bedroom window. Outside, he heard sirens from multiple directions. Several cars whizzed by the front of the house, well above the speed limit.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure.” He moved to the living room and directed Miri to turn on the TV. Instantly, he was met with news coverage of rioting across the city. He sat down on the edge of the couch in dull shock. Nathalie exited the bedroom, pulling on her robe. He glanced up at her, then motioned toward the television. “The reporters aren’t saying so, but this has to be about the speech last night.”

  “Of course it is,” Nathalie said, gently, settling in beside him. “People can only let things go for so long.”

  The rioting seemed to be concentrated in the downtown area, and there were multiple clashes with police. The reporters labeled the rioters as ‘disaffected radicals’ at times, and whenever there appeared to be any form of looting, as “mercenary opportunists.”

  “I wonder if this is happening in any other cities,” Ryan wondered aloud, and so he switched through several different news channels. All of the TV coverage was strangely silent about anything outside of the greater St. Louis area. Even national channels were running local feeds.