Overnight, hundreds camped out in RV’s and on the lawn in tents and sleeping bags. According to the security officers who signed them in, they came from all fifty states (even Hawaii!). Hard times made many of them tough and resilient, but not callous. For years, many had lived in Coopervilles out of desperation, but made the best of it. But now, because the economy had improved under Hinton’s policies, all the encampments have disappeared, so they were enjoying a night out-of-doors—by choice, under compassionate stars. Last night, a spontaneous folk concert started at 9 p.m. No less than twelve guitars, four banjos, three recorders, and two harmonicas appeared out of nowhere—and, like wandering troubadours, kept the music playing into the early morning hours. Starting at 6 a.m., people were cooking breakfast; the smell of coffee and bacon was everywhere.
Since the doors opened at 11 a.m., the crowd has been streaming into the 7,000seat People’s Pavilion. By the standards of haute couture, it is a ragtag, motley crew, indeed; but by the guiding principles of representative government, it is a pure, robust picture of democracy-in-the-flesh, a parade of boundless diversity: men, women, and children of all sizes, shapes, and colors, sharing one priceless thing in common—a look of pure joy, almost innocence, on their faces, as though they’ve been freed from some indescribable oppression, they’re drugged on the pure joys of life, and are loving every minute of it.
The lobby of the Pavilion is bare except for a towering twenty-four foot, muscular, bronze statue of Prometheus in the middle. The monumental figure is crouching and in chains attached to a boulder. He’s struggling to free himself, plaintively looking straight ahead, his eyes saying “help me.” Every muscle in his body is taut; his veins are almost popping. In his outstretched right hand, he holds a palmful of clay, like that from which he created humanity; in his left, he holds a lighted torch, with which he gave fire, life and knowledge, empowering his creation. The midday light from a skylight intensifies the agony of the right side of his face and the ecstasy of the left. This is the quintessential hero—Prometheus, at once suffering but beyond suffering, struggling to regain his freedom, but nourished by the notion that he is paying the ultimate price for sacrificing himself for the betterment of the world. On the front of the pedestal are the words “In your light, let there be light.”
There is no price of admission. There are no trinkets or souvenirs to buy. It’s open seating, no reserved places, strictly first come, first served. On the middle of the three walls at the back of the stage, a 10‘ x 20’ national flag is mounted—one large white star in the middle, fifty alternating red and blue stripes behind it. “Of the people” is painted in black on the wall to the left of the flag; under the flag, “By the people”; and on the wall to its right, “For the people.” On the remaining five walls surrounding the audience, stained glass windows carry different messages: “Equality for All,” “Justice for All,” “Empowerment for All,” “Freedom for All,” and “Opportunity for All.”
At 2 p.m., all 7,000 seats are filled and people are standing along the walls. Outside, thousands have gathered before giant TV screens to watch the program. Over the loudspeaker, the voice of Randall Griffin says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United People of America, Cary Hinton.” And from stage left, Hinton strides forward in slow, sure steps, waving to the crowd, which is on its feet and chanting “Cary, Cary, Cary!” When she reaches the podium, she smiles as she drinks in the audience, pointing to people she recognizes and mouthing a silent “Hey, there” when she sees them. After five uninterrupted minutes, like a happy seal, she waves both hands up and down, signaling the crowd to be seated. Instead, they shout “Cary, Cary, Cary” even louder. She laughs and shakes her head. “You’re too much,” she shouts. Finally, after about another five minutes, they take their seats.
“Wow,” Cary says, clearly overcome. “You are too much, too too much.” She pauses to breathe in and compose herself. “You all know why we are here,” she continues. “But I never tire of saying it: We are here to dedicate New Prometheus, your home and the home of the Flames of Democracy and the United People of America. It is nothing less than a reawakening, a new birth of true freedom and self-fulfillment on this continent.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” the audience shouts, again jumping to their feet and applauding, taking their seats after about five minutes.
“It has been a long, hard struggle to reach this day. And we are here only because of all of you and others like you. We pause as well to remember those who are no longer with us, but who are part of the spirit of this day and the new spirit that has swept across this land: The young Adam whose life was cut short in the vicious attack on the National Mall Cooperville; Billy Buford, an economic refugee from the evils of Free-for-All economics, who was murdered in the Manhattan Cooperville; and all the others, whose names we may never know, but who will forever be part of us.
“Since my inauguration in January, the Constitutional Convention has met to establish the principles and the shape of the government of the United People of America. Through social media like Facebook and Twitter, through town halls and videoconferences, its members have listened to the citizens of this great country. Today, we have come together to affirm and breathe life into the spirit of their words—your words—and to dedicate ourselves to achieving their goals—your goals.
“It is with great pride and commitment, my fellow Americans, that I read the preamble to our new Constitution: ‘From this day forward, let the word go out to all people and places of the world. We, the men and women of the United People of America, declare our free, complete, and independent sovereignty and our dedication to the Five Flames of Democracy as expressed in the inviolable principles of Equality, Justice, Empowerment, Freedom, and Opportunity for all.’”
Next to the podium stands a five foot high candelabrum with five large candles in it. “To dedicate ourselves to the first Flame of Democracy, I’d like to call upon Mr. B, the ‘mayor’ of the Central Park Cooperville, to light the candle representing ‘Equality for All.’” As Mr. B makes his way from the right side of the pavilion, where he has been standing against the wall, Hinton continues, “Known only as Mr. B while he organized and protected the thousands of homeless men, women, and children who were victims of Free-for-All economics, he still prefers to go by that name. Mr. B was the last person to leave the Central Park Cooperville—and he was glad the chapter in our history that created the need for it is over. But he has told me that he cherishes his time in Cooperville as Mr. B because he came to know the greatest people in this country—average, decent, caring, hardworking men, women, and children who may be down on their luck but who are full of spirit. No one embodies our belief in equality for all more than Mr. B.”
After Mr. B lights the candle and leaves the stage, Hinton declares: “We light the flame of ‘Equality for All,’ never taking it for granted. From the radical idea of total equality, the heart and soul of this nation flows. It is our lifeblood. Each and every citizen of the United People of America, regardless of our differences, enjoys the same inalienable rights. A right extended to one is extended to all, without exception. A right denied one is denied to all, without exception. For the first time in the history of this country, that means women have equal rights; they are no longer second-class citizens. Fundamental rights may not be abrogated or abridged. The majority rules, but any vote that tramples on or takes away the inalienable right or rights of individuals and minorities is null and void.”
Next, Hinton calls on LuAnn Buford to light the flame symbolizing “Justice for All.” As Buford joins her on stage, Hinton says, “No one knows the crippling effects of injustice more than LuAnn Buford. To this day, the murderer of her husband Billy has never been found and brought to justice. And she suffers the hurt and anguish of that every day, because in the Corporate States of America she and her husband were abandoned. Agents of the law did not keep them safe or come to their defense when their rights were violated.” As Buford returns to her seat, Hinton
continues, “Throughout the United People of America, every man, woman, and child must rest assured that the law protects them; that Justice is blind; that they don’t just have equal rights, they are treated equally before the law; and that there is a single, impartial system of justice. Judges, whether elected or appointed, must rule free of political and personal bias.
“Idabelle Sue Raft, will you please join me?” As the former Countess de Horsch makes her way to the stage, Hinton says, “Idabelle is without a doubt the ‘Mother of New Prometheus.’ Everyone in the United People of America owes her a debt of thanks. At the lowest point in my campaign for president, when I had almost no money and little moral support, Idabelle appeared out of nowhere. A total stranger, she contacted my campaign office and asked, ‘How can I help?’ I had no idea how to answer. So, I said, ‘I need whatever you’ve got to give.’ Well, that turned out to be time, money, and commitment. From that day forward, Idabelle was there for me—no matter what I needed, how much I needed, or when I needed it.” As Idabelle lights the candle, Hinton continues, “She is the perfect person to light the flame of ‘Empowerment for All.’
“Idabelle’s contribution has funded the establishment of New Prometheus out of the ashes of New Atlantis. We are here today because of her—and only her. Count Henry de Horsch, a symbol of Free-for-All economics gone wild if there ever was one, used her and abused her and then got rid of her when it suited him. He had no idea that she had taken charge of her life, had empowered and protected herself—at his expense. Idabelle has given us the last laugh: Look around! The count has been the archenemy of everything we stand for. But now, thanks to Idabelle, his money has made New Prometheus possible—not to mention my presidency.”
As Idabelle returns to her seat, Hinton asks a child to join her on the stage, chosen at random from the audience. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Susanne.”
“How old are you?”
“Six.”
“And where are you from?”
“Oklahoma.”
“That’s a long way away. Who are you here with?”
“My momma and my poppa.”
“Well, they should be very proud of you. I’m going to hold you up and help you light the next candle.” After she does so, Susanne returns to her parents.
“Susanne lit the fourth flame, signifying ‘Freedom for All.’ Who better to do it than a six-year-old who has her whole life ahead of her and for whom freedom means her ability to realize her full potential, whatever she chooses for herself?
“Finally, Roger, please join me.” As he gets up from the front of the pavilion, where he has been sitting on the floor and walks toward the stage, Hinton says, “Like so many others who once lived in Coopervilles around the country, Roger still chooses to use only his first name, even though he is now working and able to provide for his wife Anne. I have asked him to light the flame signifying ‘Opportunity for All’ because he is Adam’s father, the young Adam who was brutally assassinated when police swarmed the National Mall Cooperville.”
Shaking Roger’s hand as he takes his place next to her, she says, “I know how hard this is for you and Anne. I know that there is never a day or a moment when you don’t think of Adam, the frail young boy for whom every day, even the best day, was a struggle to stay alive. He never had the opportunity to reach his full and glorious potential.”
As Roger lights the candle, she continues, “Today, and every day, in Adam’s name, we dedicate ourselves to providing opportunity for every man, woman, and child in the United People of America. The UPA is a meritocracy. There are no inherited rights or privileges. You are rewarded in this country because you are the best at what you do. Our constitution outlaws political parties that too often stifle opportunity and the private financing of campaigns that favors special interests over the public interest. It establishes term limits for all elected officials, including members of Congress, of course. The spirit of Adam lives. John Galt is dead!
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, please stand and join with me in reciting the Pledge of Allegiance: “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United People of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with equality, justice, empowerment, freedom, and opportunity for all.”
“I’ve heard just about all I can stomach,” Mortimer Gayle shouts as he stands and identifies himself as head of the Corporate Council of Presidents Cooper and Moreland. Shaking his right fist at Hinton, he yells angrily, “You’re filling their heads with socialist propaganda, lies, and deceit. I represent the only people, the real people, who made and who make this country great…”
The audience stands up and interrupts with boos. One man hollers, “It’s not just you! It’s everyone!” A woman in the back screams, “Put that lying corporate thief in jail!”
“No, no, that’s all right! Calm down, everyone,” Hinton says, holding both hands up, Buddha-like, palms facing the crowd. “Let him continue. He’s angry and upset, so let’s try to put ourselves in his shoes. Go on Mr. Gayle. This is your chance to get everything out. We’re listening.”
“There wouldn’t be a thriving economy without us. There wouldn’t be a country without us. We create jobs. We pay salaries. We take all the risks. We are the people who have made this country great. You can’t survive or thrive or stay alive without us. Remember what happened when John Galt and the others went on strike. You’re dooming this country to extinction with your pie-in-the-sky talk. You’re fooling everyone if you think they can do anything without us. The people you say are everything really are nothing without us. And you’ll find that out soon enough. Big deal: You’ve been in office for six months. At the end of the next six months, if you keep filling people’s heads with such rubbish, the country will be bankrupt.”
“Thank you for sharing, Mr. Gayle,” Hinton responds. “Let me remind you that I was elected by the people of this country, the same people whom you would appear to consider trash, beneath you, insignificant in the scheme of things—your scheme of things. Moreland and his gang—you, too, I’m sure—did everything they could to keep me from winning. But all of you failed! How many millions did you and your corporate cronies contribute to Moreland? It must really kill you that, for the first time, your money didn’t do you any good. You couldn’t buy what you wanted. Isn’t that what you think, that everything has a price and, as long as you can pay it, no matter what you had to do to get the money or who you might have hurt, you’re entitled to get what you want?
“Well, now, it’s time for you to listen and to face reality, if you have the guts to. ‘The people’ have been awakened. They’ve felt their power. And they’re standing up for themselves. The game you’ve played is over. You lost. You’ve thrown your flames at us. But we don’t return fire. We’re not aiming for you, Mr. Gayle, or anyone else. It may sound hokey to you. But look at what’s burning beside me—the flames of equality, justice, empowerment, freedom, and opportunity for everyone, including you. They’re real! There’s absolutely nothing phony about it. We mean what we say. Don’t look so surprised. You’re one of us. It’s not beneath you to be one of ‘the people.’ I know it may shock you, but equality, justice, and all the other values are not just campaign slogans we use to fool people into voting for us. We believe them. We live by them. They are the blood that runs through our veins. They are all that matters to us.
“Have you been asleep for the past hour? Has nothing that has been said here registered on you? Do the words ‘for all’ mean nothing to you? Are you really so callous or dense or deaf or are you just pretending not to understand who we are and what we stand for? I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you make it very hard, Mr. Gayle. What did you think when you saw Susanne come up and light the Flame of Freedom? Nothing? Dollar signs? How could you not look at her and see the promise of tomorrow in her just being alive? How could you not feel a responsibility, a desire, a commitment to make the world a better place so she can thrive? She
could become a researcher who finds a cure for cancer. Or she could thrive as a writer or artist or musician. Or she could become a mother whose greatest joy in life is to care for her husband and children. Surely, something in you wants the best for her, though you’ll never see her again. You know she exists, like millions of others. She’s you and me.
“And what about Roger, mourning the death of Adam? Aren’t you outraged and ashamed to think that an innocent, frail, young boy was trampled to death by a cop on a horse sent by the man you elected president, because he didn’t want to be reminded of the economic disaster he and people like you created? Can you feel the helplessness of a father holding the crushed bones and lifeless flesh of his son in his arms? Can you hear the screams of disbelief of a mother who first learns that the spark of life she brought into the world has been snuffed out? Or are certain people like you so blinded by greed that you are incapable of feeling. Do you only see numbers on your corporate balance sheet and care about profits in your pocket? Are you dead to other people?
“Obviously, you still don’t understand or you have a short memory or both. Do you only choose to remember John Galt’s strike? Don’t you remember what happened when your stores were swarmed, when ‘the people,’ the ones you think don’t matter, went on strike, and you couldn’t do any business? Haven’t you learned that it takes two to tango? You and others like you are just some of ‘the people who have made this country great,’ to use your words. It appears that you still don’t accept that you are not the only people who count. That kind of thinking, and the behavior that follows from it, was what was wrong with the CSA: It produced wild, unchecked, antidemocratic greed. And it led to your downfall.
“Don’t shake your head dismissing me,” she warns him, pointing with her right index finger. “And don’t you dare call what I stand for socialism. Yes, I can read your mind. I stand for democratic capitalism, for ensuring a level playing field on which each and every person in this country can achieve his or her potential—a pure meritocracy. That’s a far cry from what you and Free-for-All marketers want and wanted—and got for decades: a system rigged so you could reap millions, make that billions, from average, hardworking men and women: All for some but none for all!
Atlas Drugged Page 24