“Then! All that’s needed is for a leader to step up and make promises everyone wants to hear and more...wants to believe. The simple promise that all people will be made equal.”
His face goes slack. His shoulders sag. He resists for an instant but too far off kilter he almost falls but manages to grab onto a chair and steady himself.
I drive onwards. “On Here-Born political campaigning is illegal as well. There is an Election Website and nothing more. To run for office, you upload details of the programs, laws, bills, propositions, and any regulations needed to implement them. No more than fifty pages in all. Letter size. Minimum font is ten.
“And of course, your full resume. Do we check backgrounds and achievements...or what? And the winner must attain 52% or higher. The same 52% is needed in a runoff.”
With his arms waving he says, “Are you telling me Here-Born politicians must outline what they will do in office in writing ahead of being elected?”
“Yes, Peter! But there’s more. When running for office on Here-Born you have to disclose all your staff and consultants’ political philosophy, current endeavors and their resumes, including education. Oh! Lobbying is illegal and any failure to fully disclose is a High Crime.”
“What!” he screams.
“And there’s more. Federal, State, County, and City elections are held in different years. In this way, voters can concentrate on one level of government at a time. This includes any Propositions and the regulations proposed. Which we never vote on for the final time during an election.
“All final voting on Propositions and their proposed regulations, if any, happens in the years after Federal and State elections. Federal Propositions the year after Federal elections and State follows the same pattern.
“All county and city Propositions are voted on by the residents at any time as their Propositions and Proposed Legislation are local.
“So we have a six-year voting cycle...all told.
“And as you already know...at all levels and with regards all Politicians, Propositions, Laws or Legislation and any Regulations...there is an un-elect and a repeal website constantly up and running.
“Legislation, Laws, any Regulations, plus all elected officials can be removed from the books or from Office at any time by We the People. That’s at and from all levels of Government—from Federal to State, to County, to city or town or village. As we say amongst ourselves...never shall one single vote said to be...nor ever be counted as worthless.”
“Sounds long and tedious,” he murmurs.
“No, not really. So! Next! For a full month before any election and ending one week before Election Day we have a Political Convention for Federal and State Elections.
“For State elections, conventions are held in a different County each election cycle. Any County and City Conventions are always held in the County or City itself.
“Federal Conventions are held in two different States each election cycle.
“During Conventions one can meet any candidate face-to-face and even one-on-one. Here is where the media host question-n- answer shows that are broadcasted planet wide.
“No questions are forbidden…not even stupid ones.
“Something further...during the full length of any convention TV crews as well as private citizens will broadcast most every moment, every question and every answer. This makes it possible for those not in attendance to tune in or search and find what they wish to view.
“In the final week after debates, that may have been organized, are complete, each person running for office gives a half-hour speech—with no questions allowed so they must be clear and exact.
“Well, Peter. Now you’ve been introduced to our Bill of Rights and Our Constitution. There’s more though and, of course, there’s the Letter written by our Founders addressed to all Citizens back then and those of the future.
“Welcome to Here-Born, Peter.”
He turns his back on me and leans forward as one does when blood has drained from the head and pooled in one’s toes.
CHAPTER 45
Of What And Why Treason Is
“You alright?” I ask of Peter.
With a glance telling of his displeasure in me he staggers off to my ID Check, helps himself to water, spills some, looks at me a little guiltily and says, “That’s pretty much pointless Once-Other. That website and those write-ups are worthless. Very few voters understand....”
“No,” I cut in. “Not really. Not here. Here we are fully educated by the time we graduate High School in political philosophy, political power, and political economics.
“Which includes all the different kinds there are...democratic, democratic republic, fascist, communist socialism, Nazi socialism also known as National Socialism, liberalism, progressive, conservative, any and all kinds of dictatorships. Rule by kings and queens and any other ruling class people may invent such as tribal ones with their chiefs.
“And there’s something else that makes a damn big difference out here as well.”
I watch as interest races across his face, but I remain silent. Peter’s lips quiver. His eyes bulge he swallows noisily and waves me on.
“I’ll admit to repeating myself here. But it is critical! We’ve enacted an un-elect website which is permanently open. We can un-elect anyone at any time. As soon as un-elect votes equal seventy-five percent of all the votes cast to elect you—you’re fired.
“We use Nomadi to vote so only those who voted for you can vote to un-elect you.
“The same is true for all Legislation, Laws, and Regulations. We can repeal these, in the same way we un-elect an elected official. And these Rights, as well as others, are what we’ve added to the Original of those United States of America which we adopted after our First War of Independence.
“Oh yes! Now our Superior Courts...are very different as well.” I pour some water for myself and sip. He drinks his down and holds out the glass for more.
I refill it.
“How so?” he asks.
“Well. Every Court decision made and every law passed and every court ruling given must by law be checked against our Declaration of Independence first.
“Then against our Constitution, the Letter To All Citizens Present and Future and our Bill of Rights to ensure no ruling violates them or attempts to alter them.
“If any do commit such a violation he or she is immediately charged with Treason against We the People.”
For once he is speechless. He stares without seeing. In his eyes, I perceive something go click. His sneer vanishes, his face pales, he turns cooling to a lower temperature, staggers to a straight-backed chair, sits down and hangs his head between his knees.
In the background pre-owned arms sway in a sudden gust and settle. EB voices trail in from the carousel and the sound of the circus tent slapping against faux wood support poles seems muted beneath the moan of wind.
“I didn’t know,” he mumbles, remains sitting for several minutes then looks up a strange glint in his eyes. “Once they upload all of what they are running on they’ll campaign. Yeah?”
Barely able to catch my breath at the breadth of his change I say, “Political campaigns are illegal as well. Anyone can run for office taking into consideration that personal wealth, fundraising, and personality have been removed from play.
“That being due to the election website. And!
“Advertising in any other way to get elected is illegal. Let alone championing the poor just to get elected then abandoning them.
“We are interested in what you’ve done, your future vision, how you’ll deliver your vision, but not in what you have to say—charming or otherwise.
“Never judge a person by what they say, Peter.
“Instead, one must observe their actions and the results of their actions.
“Also, always note when they fail to act and the results of doing nothing. Did less confusion arise from either doing something or doing nothing? Or more confusion even chaos result? It�
�s chaos we don’t want.”
He tries interrupting me. I keep going.
“Elected officials are limited to two terms, twelve years in total and may not run for any office or be a public employee or political consultant thereafter. This is from City to County to State to Federal.”
He stands up, but his legs wobble and he sits down again, wipes his hands on his suit and straining to sound relaxed says, “Too much inconvenience.”
“We don’t surrender our rights-n-freedoms for a more convenient life.”
He thinks, his face blank and says, “What’s with all the treason in your founding documents?”
“You’ve read them?” I demand.
He waits with a straight face.
“Let it be known, Peter...elected officials pay a high price for betrayal.
“You’ll find written in our Constitution betraying the trust of the People is Treason! And which still includes waging war against us. Any war! Be it attrition, economic, direct war or invasion, social, destruction of your Constitutional Rights, propaganda wars whether waged by word of mouth or over the media, destroying the value of our currency…all are forms of war. All!
“Better not make promises you do not intend to keep and do not waiver from your stated path. Both are treason. This stands true for all us of Here-Born. All. So!
“True for politicians. For News media persons. For military. For Police. Everyone. On the other hand, those guilty of treason are not executed. They will spend their lives in prison working a worthwhile job—if found guilty.”
He flaps his hands in anguish and says, “You mean if someone writes a law or regulation which violates your Constitution they’ll be charged for merely attempting?”
“Altogether!”
He waves at the ceiling like an octopus struck by infinite confusion. “Why?”
I hold to calm hoping he’s Foundation opened and he is now seeking new ideas. “Any system that has no consequences for acts against and violations of a Constitution breeds uncaring and criminal politicians.
“You should read the documents I’ll provide.
“It’s interesting what happens out here if legislation and regulations which violate our Constitution are passed or even proposed...you’ll now understand why lobbying is illegal.”
He bats my words aside as too painful for consideration and asks, “How do you rationalize the politicians you said are imprisoned for what you insinuate they did?”
“We discovered they had provided every Earth-Born citizen an illegal Here-Born citizenship. That’s too large a can-of-worms to hide. It’s Treason. We zeroed in and everything else followed.”
“I see.”
“They’ll never be released. Treason stands as treason—always.”
“Unless of course Earth intervenes,” he mumbles.
For several moments, I am unable to speak. We had not thought of interference from EB in this matter. More than a simple something is wrong here—with this Wernt.
I send what I have heard to all citizens nearby as well as Maggie and Madsen. Not a single confirmation returns...evidence no one received my communication.
Someone is blocking my communication.
Someone I cannot identify.
Someone close but hidden.
My mind runs wild overcome by hidden dangers.
The shoppers milling about spin and dive as though walking up the side of the carousel. I close my eyes and clear my mind. Balance both physical and mental return.
I look out across sand just as Arzern’s Delight picks up. Several dust-devils leap to life and rush about greeting each other.
But the wind dies and so do they.
CHAPTER 46
Of Peter Wernt’s Hidden Hand
A sudden rush of Crier poison assaults me; it is all I can do to stay on my feet. Peter’s face swims before me bulging like the magnified face of a fish peering out a clear bowl. He smiles coldly, strolls out onto sand, checks around and says, “Poison still bothering you Once-Other?”
Pain greater than the Crier sinking its sting-claw into my neck strikes with a vengeance. Multitudes of marauding sting-flies attack my brain their bites hitting as one—I stagger but fight to keep a footing and just manage to regain my balance before falling.
A gentle explosion around my head. A cold light encircles me and locks on. I run as fast as I am able, desperate to escape what all is attacking me. My lungs burn with effort, my legs shake.
But I cannot move, nor turn, nor break free, a cactus planted and defenseless against the wind. Is this another manifestation of those snakes, their fangs, and that hand?
Are they all the same thing?
There comes no answer.
I hold still.
I listen.
I hear Peter scuffing at sand with his boot.
The terrifying presence of a predator engulfs me.
A brief silence and his boot settles on the floor, scrunching sand. And what I’d thought was a one-on-one tour with one damn odd and weird tourist comes to an abrupt end as Peter draws his sword.
From a point deep within my very self his cold voice says, “Once-Other my resilient guide, campaigner, enemy of Earth, a so-called patriot of Here-Born. Time for those revelations you’ve been pondering on. You figure you’re so smart...but you’re not.”
His laughter mingles with the light, grabs hold and throws me towards the faux wood floor. As I fall and far too late I realize that I’d misread his intention from that first glare up to its revelation in this moment.
All this while Peter’s thoughts had remained hidden. Tucked away so skillfully I’d failed to consider myself in danger. Oh, how wrong I was. Like none before he has conquered me better even than Deidre ever did.
I slam into the floorboards shoulder first. Pain shoots from head to toes, to arms and down to fingertips. And how Jiplee and Franciscoa were taken dawns belatedly upon me. I too have failed as a Here-Born citizen and worse, as a Campaigner.
I look up, but my eyes refuse to open. Convulsions rip at my arms and legs. The doff-doff of Peter’s boot kicking at sand returns. That and his voice are all I can hear.
“Come on Once-Other,” Peter hisses. “Where’s your power? Where’s your gumption?”
My mouth snaps open. I attempt to cry out vocally, but sand fills it. I gag and spit. Sweat runs down my neck and drips beneath my collar.
“Come on!” he shouts.
I reach out and embrace the Star-of-Hope and a little strength returns. Enough to gain control of my mouth and spit out virtual sand. “Tell me, Peter, what are you doing here?”
He burst out laughing with not a single note of mirth. “You haven’t figured that one out?” he asks.
I ignore his question and desperate to escape what imprisons me, I switch attention inwards and examine the convulsions that rip at me.
Running inner perception tendrils amongst them, I discover they are actual energy beams. Each has a sting-claw hooked into a muscle. The beams contract and expand snapping my muscles back-n-forth in a painful fashion.
I force an eye open but maintain my inner view of the beams. A quick outward glance confirms my arms and legs twitch in tune with what’s inside me. Fully back inside, I play my viewpoint along the convulsions until my inner view vibrates as fast as the energy beams.
I increase the speed of both and the beams blur, lock up and fuse together. Rays of silver light flash, dip and dive, coil around one another and tighten into a ball. The light switches off and all is dark and vibration-free. But deep inside something waits, an energy coiled and dormant.
I reach for it and it explodes violently.
Razor blades of silver energy shoot outwards from the pit of my stomach slicing through everything in their path. I retreat from them and for a beat my heart stops, stutters, then beats on.
Hot, dry air rushes through my nose and mouth as I deliberately breathe in-n-out rapidly. A sliver of inner power returns. But I need something to counter the blades of pain.
Taking bile from the pit of my stomach, I create a ball solid as Rocklands black. The silver blades attack and shatter upon it like crystal glasses carelessly tossed aside.
I open an eye. Darkness reigns but overhead a blue sky stares down at me. Wait. There is a blue sky in place of the ceiling of my tent?
Doff-Doff!
“You okay Once-Other?” Peter asks.
I gulp air, flex my arm and leg muscles, clench my jaws and wiggle my fingers. Sensation and control meander on back. I stand up and stagger blindly towards his voice. My feet stumble in sand and I land on my hands and knees.
He laughs louder, crueler.
Where are my friends? Where’s Madsen? Why is no one coming to my aid? I broadcast an emergency call but it dies a mere three feet out.
Wernt grabs my shoulder yanks me to my feet and the blue sky vanishes. I blink rapidly. Shake my head to clear it and glance about to discover a horror. I’m still where I was, in my store standing on the same spot on the floor. Not a single step towards Peter had I taken. Neither had I fallen.
I examine him where he stands a few feet off and find no evidence of what gives him the power to do this. The two likely suspects are that bulge at his armpit and that Desert Driver.
He steps closer and with his face mere fingers away says, “Come now Once-Other. Yeah! Time you quit dancing in circles. Figure it out!” Try as I might I am unable to speak.
“I’ll take silence as a no,” he says. “Allow me to enlighten you Once-Other. This is personal. This is about your UWMD. This is politics. This is justice. This is vengeance as well. Yeah!”
He glances down and taps his foot. Sand scrunches gritty and uneven. He looks up at me and adds, “And! This is not a vacation, a one-on-one tour nor anything damned else one-two-three all-damn-together!”
I flinch for his voice hurts in both volume and force. I take several deep breaths exercise muscles and refresh my Moment in Time. Peter waits his face landscaped with contempt. I breathe harder and work my muscles faster.
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