by Joe Nobody
The ambassador was talking to a huddled group of residents, all smiles and chuckles. Another man was with him, typing furiously on a laptop computer as the U.S. representative asked questions.
Looking up and spotting the couple, Chase said, “There you are! I’d been told you would be here today. I’m glad I caught you.”
Bishop bristled. Terri was confused.
As they approached the ambassador, Bishop bent and whispered another secret in Terri’s ear. “I thought I’d never utter these words, but now I’m glad you didn’t wear that top.”
“I’m here conducting a survey of the people who are making claims,” Chase bubbled after receiving a cool hug from Terri and a reluctant nod from Bishop. “We’re collecting some very interesting data about how people are reacting to the new law.”
“Oh, really,” Terri responded, obviously puzzled by not only the man’s presence but his quest.
“Remember,” Chase smiled, sensing her confusion, “the United States is probably going to implement a similar process in the future, and I want to document how this first attempt could be improved.”
To be polite, Terri pretended to be interested. “And what are your findings so far?”
Indicating the man with the laptop, Chase said, “It’s early yet, but we have collected enough data for some preliminary results. You should take a few minutes and go over it with me. I’ll be presenting my findings to the president in a few days.”
Bishop interrupted, glancing at his watch. “We really should be going, hun. Remember, we’ve got to make it to Diana’s presentation in Amarillo this afternoon, and that’s a long drive.”
The ambassador, however, was insistent. “I promise… it will only take a few minutes. I was really looking forward to your participation, as I don’t want to give my boss any inaccurate information.”
Terri’s eyes darted between the two men and the laptop, torn between her civic duty, and a strong desire to be done with the entire affair. Diana asked me to take this job and keep Chase out of her hair, she considered. Responsibility won the internal debate.
Peering up at Bishop, she said, “It won’t take long.”
The Texan didn’t like it, nodding in frustration as he took Hunter from his mother’s hip. “Hurry. Remember, Diana is expecting us at the town meeting, and we still have to go back to the house and spend gov-time posting this official certificate.”
Grinning with satisfaction, Chase motioned for the family to follow. He led them to the building’s lobby where several vacant chairs and two empty vending machines resided.
Bishop managed to tolerate the discussion about five minutes, Hunter having expressed his boredom before that. “I’m going to take our son for a walk,” the father announced, interrupting a mind numbing conversation that including such highlights as participation rates, satisfaction indicators, and the mean age of those registering a property.
Both father and son were relieved to get outside and into the fresh air. Bishop had spotted a park nearby, complete with overgrown playground equipment. Perhaps Hunter and he could salvage the slide, or trample down the weeds enough to use a swing.
It was over an hour before Terri finally appeared. Her mood, already in a low place, hadn’t improved.
“He just droned on and on and on,” she declared. “Even after all that, he was still pissed when I got up to leave. I thought he was going to order one of his men to hogtie me to the chair so he could bore me to death. Get me out of here before I pull my gun and kill that man,” she insisted.
“Yes, ma’am.”
They rushed back to their home, Bishop displaying the required document in a street-visible window while Terri hustled to pack the personal items she wanted to take back to West Texas.
The Texan headed for the garage, his reloading equipment in high demand in their new hometown. This will fetch enough at the Meraton market to keep me in bacon for years, he mused. Next came the boxes of books his wife and he had accumulated. They would make a nice contribution to the repository.
When Terri reappeared a short time later, Bishop could tell her efforts had further deepened an already impressive funk. “I made room in the truck’s bed for your treasures. How much are we taking back?” he said in a cheery tone.
“Just this,” she responded, holding out two photographs, one of her mother, the other taken on the house’s front stoop the day they had moved in.
“That’s it? No clothes? Shoes? Nothing else?”
“None of my clothes fit anymore, and insects have damaged a lot of our stuff. I took my best shoes with me the first time, besides, I don’t have much need for heels anymore. There’s just not much here that we really need.”
Rubbing his chin, Bishop didn’t know if his wife’s statement was positive or negative. Throwing another glance at his watch, he decided they didn’t have time to discuss the issue anyway.
“Okay, you’re the boss. Let’s head west.”
While Bishop and Terri drove headed for Diana’s meeting, a pair of well-dressed men approached the property claims counter in Midland Station.
Seeming unaffected by enduring the long wait, the older of the two hefted a briefcase onto the counter and popped the twin locks. He then began withdrawing several large stacks of documents. “I’m here as the representing attorney for Mr. Cameron James Lewis. These are our property claims,” he stated, shoving across the massive amounts of paperwork to the clerk.
“We claim all buildings noted, including the hospital and elementary school that bear Mr. Lewis’s family name. In addition, we demand compensation for the use of these assets, most specifically the petroleum refinery and distribution facilities listed within, as well as the fair reimbursement for the oil and other products processed through that location.”
The bewildered clerk began thumbing through the mountains of paperwork, unsure of how to handle such a massive task. No sooner had the first briefcase been emptied, than the second man plopped his leather attaché onto the counter and began producing a similar-sized pile of documents.
“In addition to the real estate listed, we are seeking compensation amounting to 9.7 trillion dollars,” he said with a serious expression.
“I beg your pardon?” the clerk stated, sure she hadn’t heard the figure correctly.
“Mr. Lewis has the right under the new law to make such a claim, as his personal property was used by the Alliance for several months. By the well-established legal precedents regarding ill-gotten gains, the value of any automobile, truck, or other machine that performed while consuming our property is rightfully ours. Also, numerous critical employees were killed in the illegal seizure of our client’s resources, and we have the right to demand compensation for the loss of those human assets as well.”
Stunned, the woman behind the booth called over a supervisor. The lawyer repeated his speech.
“That’s ridiculous,” the supervisor responded, scanning the piles of documents. “It’s almost as if you’re trying to bankrupt the entire Alliance.”
“I assure you, madam, that we have dissected the new law thoroughly. Our claims are legitimate and well founded. We’ll accept payment in gold or other hard form of currency,” the attorney replied with a straight face. “If the Alliance can’t pay, then I’m afraid we’re going to have to let everyone in Texas know that their government is insolvent.”
“This will have to go before the special review board,” the supervisor replied. “We’re not set up to handle anything like this here.”
“We’re well prepared for that contingency,” the lawyer stated with confidence. “Very well prepared.”
Bishop hadn’t been so worried about his wife since she’d been kidnapped. The drive back from Houston was passing with very little conversation, a wall of ice dividing the two front seats. Even Terri’s interaction with Hunter seemed inhibited.
The Texan had been married long enough to know when his mate needed to be alone with her thoughts and emotions. Any conversation he
offered was short, pleasant, and to the point.
In reality, he couldn’t blame her. Bishop was dealing his own melancholy mood.
Memories of their previous life were one thing. Walking through the physical ruins of a former existence was quite another. The struggle to survive had served as a mental barrier, allowing so much of their former lives to be shoved back and minimalized. Seeing their old place removed much of that protective insulation, exposing the couple to a tsunami of “what if” emotions.
Bishop had always understood that having their own home meant more to Terri than to him. He had often chalked it up to one of the many differences between a man and a woman.
While no one had worked harder or enjoyed home ownership more, Bishop was well aware that more of Terri’s heart was contained in the structure of plaster and wood than his own.
But, that didn’t mean he could walk through a museum of their former life and not be affected.
Forcing the discomfort aside, he spent the last several hours trying to focus on the best method of helping Terri through the experience. He knew that she would, in turn, help him get past it all.
A quick glance at the truck’s GPS informed Bishop that they had reached the point where it was time to head north to Amarillo and Diana’s presentation.
“Where are you going?” Terri asked, noticing the change in direction.
“To Amarillo and the big town meeting. Remember? We promised Nick and Diana we would attend on our way back.”
Terri’s frown deepened, “Shit. I forgot.”
That’s not like her at all, Bishop thought. She’s always the one who remembers the social commitments. Now, I am worried.
His anxieties increased exponentially with Terri’s next statement. “I don’t want to go. Let’s just head back to Alpha,” she announced.
“Are you sure?” Bishop replied gently. “We did promise them we’d be there. It’s only a few hours out of the way.”
Terri, however, was firm. “I know, but I don’t feel like going. Please, just take me back to Alpha. Besides, like you said before we left, ‘Haven’t we already done enough?’”
Shrugging, Bishop pulled a U-turn, sending them motoring along their original route. Again, the cab was filled with nothing but the big V8’s purring and the whine of the rubber against the road.
Diana’s security team was on edge, heads pivoting sharply right and left as they escorted the Alliance’s leader into the gymnasium.
“No long guns… and no hovering directly behind me,” she had informed the team of bodyguards. “This is a public meeting of citizens, who, I might add, elected me. I’m not a queen or dictator. Keep it low key, gentlemen, and that’s an order.”
The high school facility was packed to the gills. After managing a parking lot full of buses, horse-drawn wagons, cars, trucks, and motorcycles, Diana straightened herself and prepared to enter the main auditorium.
The reaction from the crowd was positive as she appeared via a side door. Several people clapped, others shouting encouragement as she made for the stage. She found herself smiling and waving at a sea of people fanning themselves with whatever was handy. The air conditioning had failed just an hour before the gathering.
After shaking hands with several location leaders, Diana took a seat and watched as the lights were dimmed and a huge projection machine illuminated the entire back wall of the facility.
After a shrill from the microphone had caused many to wince, the mayor of Amarillo, Texas began addressing the gathering.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as I’m sure most of you know, we are gathered here this evening to present the Alliance of Texas’s new program concerning the ownership of private property and other private assets.”
Pausing to scan the crowd, the mayor then turned and indicated the dignitaries seated behind him on the stage. “It is also my pleasure to introduce several of our new nation’s servants who have honored us by attending this evening’s town hall meeting.”
One by one, the mayor introduced various council members, trustees, and other local leaders. He saved best for last.
Again, a broad round of applause greeted Diana as she was introduced. Standing, smiling broadly, and waving to the folks. With a measured step, she approached the podium.
“My fellow survivors of the collapse,” she began with a strong voice. “Thank you for your support and patience. Due to your hard work and seemingly boundless spirit, the recovery continues. Starvation no longer annihilates our ranks. The availability and quality of medical care are improving every single day. Roving bands of marauders and thieves no longer threaten the vast majority of our lives. We now live in a society governed by the rule of law.”
The sound of cheers and clapping filled the gym, several people standing to show their support.
“But our work is not nearly complete. We are far from finished,” Diana continued. “To progress down the path to a higher standard of living, we must have manufacturing, communications, transportation, automation, and a long list of other capabilities and services. Our factories must again ship products. Our hospitals, schools, shops and churches must reopen and produce.”
More applause and shouts of encouragement followed.
After waiting for the reaction to die down, Diana’s gaze swept the crowd as her voice took a serious tone. “Without banking, taxation, and a larger government presence, none of these advancements will occur. We, as a society, need a financial system. We require a fair judicial process. We must protect the private ownership of the property at all costs.”
The volume of support was less but still strong. At least no one is booing me, she thought. Or shooting at me.
“So often I hear my fellow Texans talking about life getting back to where it was before the collapse. It’s only natural for all of us to yearn for the ‘good ole days.’ Tonight, you will hear what the other council members and I believe is the next step to achieving not only that goal but what may establish a foundation for an even higher standard of living for our citizens. Together, we can build a Texas that is better than before, with a quality of life that exceeds any in the history of mankind. We can do this if we work as a team. It can be done!”
The cheering was louder than ever, Diana scanning a throng of smiling faces and supporting eyes. After casting a friendly gesture to each section of the arena while mouthing, “Thank you,” she then leaned back into the mic and continued, “and now it is my pleasure to introduce Councilman Williams who will provide the details of this afternoon’s presentation.”
A middle-aged man in a suit made his way to the front of the stage, the local official tasked with delivering the nuts and bolts of the new law. The rules were simple, projected boldly on the wall for all attending to see.
Williams was well spoken and accustomed to addressing large crowds. His portion continued for several minutes, highlighting the important parameters and even managing to crack a few jokes.
As Diana had anticipated, the initial phase of the presentation drew a positive reaction from the gathering. Now it was time for the controversial sections of the new law.
Someone had estimated that over 85% of the private property in Texas had been pledged as collateral of one sort or another to various banks and credit unions. Prior to the collapse, the vast majority of financial institutions had survived by collecting interest on mortgages, lines of credit, and other loans secured by real estate or physical assets. None of those streams of income existed anymore.
For years, no one had been making monthly payments. With half of the state’s population now deceased, many of the council’s experts were doubtful that banking could be revived in any form. Others argued that, like the first failure of the economy in the 1930s, blame was to be placed at the feet of the banks. Many learned people blamed the Second Great Depression on insolvent financial institutions, claiming that the economy was pushed over the edge by their mismanagement and unworkable policies. Why should the same mistake be repeated?
&n
bsp; The Alliance had already imitated a few of the cures implemented to reverse the contracting economy so many decades ago. Roosevelt’s Works Progress Administration had its modern day equal in the Agriculture Relocation Program, or ARP. Tens of thousands of unemployed, starving citizens had been relocated to temporary camps where they tilled the fields, raised livestock, and received food, shelter, medical care, and security in exchange.
But there were differences between the collapse of Diana’s time and that of her great-grandfather. Some banks had remained open during the 1930s. The council in Alpha hadn’t inherited a single functioning teller’s window. Unemployment had reached a crippling 25% in 1933. Diana’s apocalypse had seen 99.9% of the population without work.
Entire cities, courthouses, and government office complexes had burned or been looted during society’s latest fall – a problem the Roosevelt White House hadn’t been forced to overcome. That, combined with the fact that most counties kept their records on computers, left massive gaps in the government’s ability to reconcile who owned what land, factory, homes, or apartment buildings.
No, Diana thought as Councilman Williams prepared to continue his presentation. We need banking.
The gym grew quiet as the next projection flashed on the wall. Its title was two large font, bolded words: Eminent Domain.
The concept wasn’t anything new. Since the beginning of government, tribal leaders, kings, dictators and eventually democracies had exercised a process that forced citizens to sell land or other assets if the action was deemed to benefit society as a whole.
There were, however, rules. The most important criteria in the United States had been ensuring that the citizen received fair value for the property being acquired. This was not always as simple as it might sound.
One of the most complex examples occurred when the federal government began constructing a system of interstate highways. While the narrow strip of land needed for the paved lanes wasn’t significant to many individual property owners or tenants, the planners in Washington soon found that acquiring the properties was going to be far more difficult and expensive than anyone had anticipated.