Hadrian's Rage

by Patricia-Marie Budd

  “Yes, I am well aware of their threats. That is why we will return to our posts after Tara’s farewell ceremony to protect her loved ones when they leave here to attend Tara’s cremation.”

  “The location of her cremation is a carefully guarded secret I’ve been told.”

  “Yes, it is our hope that the haters will not be able to find out where it is to occur. They have threatened to picket that, too, if they find out its location. Just in case, we plan to bring our wall with us.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hunter—Oh, I’m so sorry; Mr. Stuttgart, I mean.”

  “That’s okay. No need to apologize. I am not offended by any connection with my husband’s name. As you can see, he is one of our wall guard posts.”

  “Yes, of course. But if I may, just one more question, please.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Where did you get this idea—creating a barrier between Tara’s loved ones and the haters picketing her farewell ceremony?”

  “Are you familiar with the historic figure Matthew Wayne Shepard?”

  “That name sounds very familiar; please remind me.”

  “He was a young gay American, brutally tortured and left to die for being gay. His murderers left him to die tied to a fence in a farmer’s field near Laramie, Wyoming, of the old United States. He was found twelve hours later, and after three days of fighting between life and death at a nearby hospital, he passed away. There was a Christian church at the time, Baptist I believe, whose members picketed the young man’s funeral. Since the Shepard family was Christian, Matthew’s friends dressed up as angels and used their wings to block out the haters picketing Matthew’s funeral. I went onto the wave and found heart-wrenching stories about how this poor boy died and the way his friends chose to protect Matthew’s family. The people picketing his funeral were carrying signs that said, ‘God Hates Fags’ and ‘Fag Matt Burn in Hell.’ Who does such a thing? But we see here today that fanatics come in all shapes and sizes. When I read about what Matthew Shepard’s friends did for him and his family, I knew we had to do something similar for Tara’s family.”31

  “Yes, of course. Thank you for sharing this with our viewers, Mr. Stuttgart. I appreciate your time during, what I am sure, is a most heartbreaking and difficult experience for you and all here to endure.

  “Viewers, what we are witnessing here today is the juxtaposition of love and hate. Now, I am sure some of you watching this perceive the Conservative Right justified in their actions, but I hope the number of you who feel disapproval are much greater. Please take a moment to consider the ramifications of not only Tara Fowler’s murder, but the actions of those picketing her farewell ceremony. Listen to them shouting hateful curses against the bereaved. Is this really the kind of society we want Hadrian to be like? Dig deep into your souls, citizens of Hadrian. It is my sincerest hope you will choose love over hate.

  “TRUTH!”

  31 https://thispositivelife.wordpress.com/2011/10/09/

  thinking-of-matthew/

  Tara’s Eulogy

  Xenophobia

  boils hate o’er human fire

  steaming violence

  That powerful haiku, written by the deceased Tara May Fowler, exemplifies the very foundation upon which our country was built and is crumbling. At but twenty-two years of age, this young woman had gained a sense of maturity and understanding of human nature beyond the reckoning of most. Perhaps this was due to her having to live in this world as an outsider condemned to looking in as opposed to being allowed to act as a participant. You see, Tara Fowler was straight. Her sexual orientation, something decided by her body in utero, is deemed a plague by our society. Yes, our President has signed the bill making heterosexuality legal, no longer requiring adults to be expelled or our youth necessarily forced into reeducation camps, but that alone hasn’t stemmed the tide of hate. In fact, it is as if all the haters are now crawling out of the woodwork, desperate to force those brave enough to come forth with our true identities back into hiding.

  Tara had a unique philosophical outlook on life. She was not religious. She, like her mothers, was an atheist. She did not look to any deity to justify and condemn the good and evil of this world. “All that is man is man,” she would say, “and every man is man.” She explained these odd notions by stating that humanity was more than just one race; we are the human race. According to Tara, all of mankind is one man splintered and at odds with humself. Humself? Oh, how we all laughed when she said that. “What in the name of all that’s gay and glorious is humself?” we queried. “Humself,” she replied quietly, “is my word for the human pronoun. We are all a part of hum.” When we asked her why she didn’t just use the pronoun Mx32, she replied, “That’s for the intersex and transgendered. ‘Hum,’” she insisted, “is for everyone.” She had odd ideas, but they were beautiful. Hum, as Tara explained it, is humanity—not he, not she, not trans, not intersex, but a blending of everyone. When we pushed her to explain this further, she claimed that hum had been splintered and that now we are separate entities. Hum is shattered, and every part of hum is splintered into separate beings: intersex, transgendered, women, and men. Her dream was for humanity to embrace “humself” once again. It saddened her that the focus of humanity was so separate and destructive. In the end, she best expressed this idea in another haiku:

  humanity is

  one separated being

  open your arms soul

  Curious as to how she had come up with this philosophy, I asked her to expound. She pondered for some time, as was her way. Tara was never one simply to spout out notions. She considered her ideas, allowed them to ferment and formulate, and then she’d smile when understanding finally came to her. “I guess it dates back to my welcoming ceremony.”

  You may well wonder what a welcoming ceremony is. Christians have a similar ceremony with baptism. Unlike baptism, which offers the child up to God, this ceremony welcomes the new child into the pentagram of life, or the five elements. Tara explained the ritual her mothers performed when she was but a few months old. Family and friends had gathered, and Tara was dressed in a small frock the colors of the rainbow. She was laid upon the kitchen table, which had been placed in the center of the room. There were no chairs; everyone gathered around the table to watch the proceedings. First, Tara’s mother lit a candle and placed it at Tara’s head. “This candle, my daughter,” she said, “is to bring you the light of wisdom and understanding. May it guide you through the darkness of this life.” Next, she placed a bowl of earth at Tara’s feet. “This earth, my daughter, is for you to stand firmly upon. Stand tall. Love your planet. Honor her. Treasure her. Protect her.” Next a bowl of water was placed by Tara’s right hand. “Water, my daughter, is the blood of life. Drink of it deeply. It will heal and cleanse you. Share this gift generously with others.” Lastly, a toy windmill was placed by Tara’s left hand. First, her mother blew on the wings to allow it to spin and show its power. “Wind, my daughter, is the breath of life. It represents strength. The wind is your breath and your soul.” At this point, Tara’s mother stepped back, allowing her mama to step forward. Mama Cecilia then lifted the infant Tara from the table and held her high for everyone to see. “You, my child, my lover’s heart’s desire, are the fifth element; a human amongst humans. Live for one. Live for all.” We were all in tears by the time Tara finished that story. Her mothers, I know, suffer grievously now. They brought this woman into the world. They welcomed her to life, and now they must say goodbye. It is not for the parent to bury the child, but that is what the prejudices of our society ultimately dictated for them.

  So, why did Tara come out? Why did Tara not just pretend to be someone else? I have heard many people asking this question through the wave. “She set herself up for this abuse,” they claim. “She never should have told anyone she was straight.” Tara never went around announcing her sexual orientation, nor did she believe in hiding it. She came out to her mothers when she was quite young. And although her revelation came as a
shock, even an unwelcome one when the truth was first revealed, her mothers were wise enough not to impose a sentence of reeducation on their daughter. Tara was able to continue attending her regular middle school, go on to high school, graduate, serve time in the military, and go on to challenge uni at the great Augustus’s halls of academia.

  Tara was highly respected by her professors. She held a GPA of 94 percent. Although she did not qualify for a uni entrance scholarship, she did receive bi-annual semester uni scholarships that helped cover the cost of her tuition. Professor Politis referred to Tara as one of the most ingenious students she had encountered in years.

  Tara was studying to be an educator. She would have made a fine teacher, too. Smart, witty, creative, and always ready with a jest if the mood of the room felt down, her goal was to teach high school history and politics. To quote Tara, “More than ever, it is critical for the minds of today’s youth to be aware: aware of whom they are, aware of their surroundings, the decisions they make, and most especially, the decisions society is making for them.” Never did words ring more true than these for the citizens of Hadrian. We are indoctrinated—from the moment we take our first breath, right through to the day we die—on the right way to live, the right way to think, the right way to feel, and the right way to love.

  Tara chose to break the bonds of stereotypes and strove to be her own soul. She gathered to herself a small group of friends, who, like she did, believed in the concept of equal love. Her writing, her actions, her very words all expressed the idea that all members of humanity are equal and that no one—no one—be pushed aside. She fought for this belief, and, sadly, she died for it, too. For as much as Tara knew of the cruelties of this world, she had the deepest respect and hope for humanity. “Inside every intersex woman, man, and child,” she would always say, “there is the truest desire to do what is good.” When confronted with the questionable acts of her peers, Tara always found a way to justify them. “Misguided though many are, deep down, they all really want what is good and right in this world.” Her solution to this conundrum was “Education.” Tara’s greatest hope was one day to walk into the classroom and provide opportunities for the students of our future to open their minds and learn to choose what is honestly best for humanity. For Tara, this best was acceptance. The kind of acceptance she didn’t get when she exposed her sexual identity to two young women she had thought were her friends.

  Tara didn’t deserve such a brutal and torturous death. She was kind, gentle, and thoughtful of others’ needs. That these women were able savagely to rape and murder her only testifies to the overwhelming hate that fills the very heart of our great country.

  And even now, if Tara could speak to us from the grave, she would say these women who beat, raped, and murdered her, were merely a product of their environment. That society had educated them to hate and be cruel, and that, as a result of this lifelong indoctrination we have all endured, they actually believed that what they did to her was in the best interest of humanity. And we all know that isn’t true. Let me give you one more taste of what Tara Fowler had to offer our world. The last poem she wrote was a sonnet. It was her plea to humanity—to all of us, whom she liked to call “Hum” titled “Frangible Essence.” A copy of the poem can be found in Tara’s memorial card you were asked to download. You may wish to follow along as I read.

  Frangible essence, orb overflowing

  With humanity’s burgeoning presence.

  Allotment tips, powder keg pulsate brings

  Swelling waters bursting calescent.

  Ripple waves erosion; giving slightly

  Softly caressing cliff height’s sandy shore

  Aggressive breakers shatter human psyche;

  Travail regardless all who may abhor.

  O, humanity’s ally! Occasion

  All man. Vouchsafe commitment. Artisan

  Logic, desiderata’s nucleus:

  Antecedent plenary devotion.

  Recognize preservation is no crime.

  Offensive forces one must needs defy.

  Frangible essence. That indeed describes our Tara. It describes her awareness of humanity’s great destruction. It describes her understanding of humanity’s great potential.

  Today, two mothers grieve the loss of a beloved child. Today, a brother grieves the loss of a beloved sister. Today, friends grieve the loss of a most steadfast companion. My name is Dean Stuttgart, and Tara May Fowler was my friend.

  *****

  32 http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3066043

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  Tara’s Welcoming Ceremony

  Sketch by Cecilia Sauveterre

  Caption: “Mama loves you baby!”

  *****

  Salve!

  The Big Strai Lie33

  HNN—Danny Duggin Reporting

  If we all listen to those like Dean Stuttgart and Melissa Eagleton, everyone would foolishly come to believe that we should embrace our strai brothers and sisters. They claim we can successfully integrate heterosexuality into our mainstream culture. Well, I am sorry to disappoint those of you who have fallen for this nonsense, but this is nothing but a big fat strai lie! I do not say this because I hate strais. I am fully aware that the strais within our borders are our own children, which is why it is incumbent upon us to raise and educate our youth correctly. Allowing our youth to believe that opposite sex attractions are acceptable is simply wrong. They need to know that these abhorrent sexual desires are the very reason why Hadrian was established in the first place. This nonsense, this shilly-shallying around the idea that we are all the same, we are all one humanity, is both absurd and dangerous.

  In fact, one key reason why the strai agenda has managed to garner popular appeal, especially amongst our youth, is the idea that strais are somehow the same as we are. They are not the same as the rest of us. Our youth do not understand how massively harmful and promiscuous the strai community is. Their inclination to procreate is the greatest threat facing our planet. The Big Strai Lie (BSL) has a number of facets including:

  • that a lot of people in Hadrian are strai

  • that being bisexual is okay

  • being heterosexual is not a threat to the planet or the reason for the global population explosion

  • and lastly, the most insidious lie of all, that strais are born that way

  Let’s break down these lies, shall we?

  To begin with, there are not a lot of strais in Hadrian. No one under the age of twenty can claim to be anything less than a 2 on the Kinsey scale. That means, with the right education, no one in Hadrian need ever choose a straight lifestyle. The proponents of the BSL blatantly ignore all the evidence provided by our geneticists regarding the human genome and their success at having eradicated the heterosexual gene from Hadrian’s procreation bank. No zygote lacking the homosexual gene is ever implanted into a female. No child in Hadrian is born straight. So this fact destroys both the first notion that there are a lot of strais amongst us, and lastly, that people are born strai. Not in Hadrian!

  Next in the BLS is the belief that being bisexual is somehow okay. No, it’s not! This whole notion of being bisexual is obscene. If you are with someone of the same sex, then you are gay, and great for you. If you are with someone of the opposite sex, then you are straight, and to those people, I say, “Stop putting yourself, the country of Hadrian, and the rest of the planet at risk of further population expansion!”

  The third part of BSL suggests that heterosexuals can use birth control and Planned Parenthood to stop over-procreating. To that, I say, “Look outside our walls! There are over twenty billion pieces of evidence out there proving that heterosexuals are not capable of controlling themselves and holding back on over-procreation. If heterosexuals could control their sexual desires, the world wouldn’t be in the mess it is in today!”

  So, please, the next time someone trie
s to bamboozle you with the BSL—the Big Straight Lie—you refer them to this Salve! episode. And to that, I say

  Vale!

  33 http://www.americanthinker.com/articles/2015/07

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  Lying in Devon’s Arms

  As soon as he steps off the Nat tram (Hadrian’s National transportation system—electronic trains that look like silver bullets except when moving), Devon feels like he is right back where he had left that very morning, The Northern Gate. The Midwest Gate looks exactly like every other gate where Devon has ever been stationed. All land gates are constructed of wood with decorative iron, illustrating Hadrian’s fighting men and women combating the enemy, and they all rise to the daunting height of three stories. This, of course, is not for any practical reasons, just for a show of strength, and not just to the outside world; Hadrian’s citizens need to be reassured of their safety so every time Salve! reports an attack somewhere against the Wall, its cameras always zoom in on these images pre- and post-newscast. The Wall extends beyond both sides of each gate and is built of thick concrete. The first few kilometers spanning left and right of the gate proper are compound headquarters and barracks housing both soldiers and civilian workers. Each gate is the equivalent of a small city, with housing, shops, theatres, and all forms of entertainment to keep the soldiers from going stir crazy during down times or to help them let off steam after an attack. Although Devon cannot see that far, he knows the Wall continues beyond the compound, in most places still three stories high, but with only the depth of one small room and hallway. This allows for provisions and armory to be stored and sparse accommodations for those soldiers stationed at each fifty-yard guard tower.

  It really is amazing how much Hadrian’s Wall has grown since Devon’s eighteenth birthday, when he had been required to sign up to serve. Back then, there had still been hundreds of miles of open spaces with mere barbwire and electrical fencing. Now, most of the border has been walled off. Salve!’s call to arms a few years back wasn’t so much for soldiers as it was for construction labor. Every new recruit spent the first year in the military doing “mortar and cement duty.” Currently, there is only one section of Hadrian not walled in—the southern grasslands region along the borders of Quadrants One and Two, near where old Augustus City used to be situated. This entire area, including much of the richest grasslands in Hadrian, was contaminated by the dirty nuke set off by the fanatical Christian, Jeremiah F. Butler, that fateful day still referred to by all as 6-13. Very few of Hadrian’s citizens are willing to work or live there because they fear radiation poisoning. The argument that outsiders aren’t likely to care about the danger since their lives are so desperate anyway has been addressed by the extensive use of cameras and drone snipers on the guard towers along the southernmost border. The job of installing and maintaining these has been delegated to the least respected members of Hadrian’s citizens—the re-ed faction. The least desirable jobs always go to those most desperate to find work.