by Hannah Ross
Ned brightened. "You're a genius, Uncle."
Andrew Van Wullen shrugged his shoulders. "There's always more than one way to achieve your goal, Ned," he said. "We tell people, fine, we can't deprive you of your legal status if you choose to reside outside the Boundary. It is your lawful right. But just so you know, if you keep your little farm or business out there, you'll have to shoulder pretty heavy taxes on your money and assets here – so heavy that you'll probably have to give something up. So people either come back, or they pay taxes that help boost the budget. Either way, we win."
"And won't those savages protest?"
"They might. But what can they do? This is a question of internal policy. They have no right to interfere."
"Genius! I'll call my assistant right away so that this proposal gets drafted by the end of the week." He mulled it over for a moment, then added, "The Registry program was a good one, though. A pity it was cut off."
"Don't worry, Ned. We'll move the land expansion program up north, and we won't make the same mistakes. In the meantime, we'll enjoy the spectacle of the pathetic little system to the west and south crumbling. They won't hold out. Soon, there'll be no more than scattered savage camps out there, as in the beginning."
25
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The Council of Seven grew to a Council of Twelve, as the Resistance fighters came home. The atmosphere at the first council meeting was that of utter confusion.
"You should've had a lawyer look over that treaty you all wrote," Gary Emmerson said. Despite the tax drawbacks stealthily imposed by the White Tower, Emmerson decided to stay beyond the Boundary, giving his reasoning as, "Bugger me if they're going to drive me off my land."
"We didn't have a lawyer handy," Sidney said. "We did the best we could."
"Maybe so. But the Tower and their lawyers have found enough loopholes to make our lives miserable. They have to provide power, but it doesn't say how much so they send barely enough for Resurrection Town." His head shook. "There are people looking to us to solve their problems, and let's face it, we don't have a clue as to what we're supposed to do,"
"We must make emergency stores of everything," Ben said. "Food, supplies, weapons, ammo, medicines, fuel, livestock – anything we might have to distribute to people in need."
Emmerson snorted. "Define need. Everyone's in need now. You'll deplete the stores pretty soon that way."
"It's simple, Gary," Carl said, "Nobody starves. Nobody freezes. Nobody stays sick if we can help them get well. I also think people should be encouraged to donate. Some camps have a surplus of livestock, seeds, supplies. Or people can give a hand doing work that must be done. All on a voluntary basis, of course. We aren't going to recreate Registry camps here."
"I won't be able to pay my workers," Emmerson grumbled. "Money will be worth shit with the inflation and the White Tower playing its tricks."
"Language, Gary," Sidney said.
"You'll have to work differently," Ben said. "Money might drop in value, but food and security are precious. If people work on your farm, you feed and house them. When times are tough, it's easier to make it together. We did it for years."
Emmerson scowled. "Yes, well, we aren't used to living like a bunch of gypsies."
"I prefer the term Freeborn," said Sidney. "And, anyway, Emmerson, the choice is yours. Stay on the farm and be a man, or go to live in a tiny cubicle in an Urban Island. It's your call."
* * *
The exhaust fumes of the trucks leaving Resurrection Town left a noxious cloud in their wake. Settlers who made their decision to leave were hastening back to the Boundary, no longer concerned about wasting precious dwindling fuel. They would be able to replenish it as soon as they arrived at their destination.
"Things aren't looking too good," Ben had to admit. He was tired and his head ached. The Council met several times a day, but it seemed to never be enough. "Despite the Treaty, people are afraid to burn bridges by staying here, and the panic is contagious, with the Tower dropping all their hints about people being better off within the Boundary. Did you know the Hulls left, Pris?"
Priscilla lifted her head from the floor, where she was busy building a wooden block tower with Ian. She looked aghast. "The Hulls? No way. They put so much into this town."
"True, but their livelihood was built on the shop. And they weren't ready to turn to farming for a living. Their business was failing. They packed overnight and went away without saying a word to hardly anyone. Sidney told me about it."
"How's council business going?" Priscilla asked.
Ben rubbed his temples with a rueful smile. "Life used to be so much simpler in our cabin."
Priscilla looked at the wooden blocks again, giving in to Ian's insistent tugging on her sleeve. "I haven't heard anything from Tilly lately," she said in a disconnected way, but Ben understood and took her hand, squeezing it gently.
"I'm sure she's OK." Though things were pretty unreliable within the Boundary as well these days, Tilly was not the type to get in trouble.
"It seems to me that you and the other people on the Council are wasting too much time on trivial things."
"Trivial? What do you mean?"
"Like people from distant camps coming over and getting you involved in some petty squabble over pasture. Or like that family who wanted to occupy the warehouse that's now empty, and the owners throwing up a fuss about it even though they know they're going to leave."
Ben nodded. "It is a drain. So what do you think we could do?"
"The Council is only twelve people. It's unreasonable to expect a dozen people to solve every problem that might crop up all over the country. You would do better to delegate. That's what Moses did, you know." Priscilla smiled.
"Moses?" Ben's eyebrows traveled toward his hairline.
"Tilly was big on reading the Bible to Steph and me. She told us all sorts of stories from it. And I don't know exactly why, but she loved to tell how Moses took the advice of Jethro to delegate the rule. Maybe it was because my father was such a dictator. Anyway, a person would oversee ten people who would each oversee five minor overseers and so on, until only the major issues were left to Moses to deal with. 'See, girls, that's how you learn it pays off to be organized,' Tilly used to say."
Struck by the new idea, Ben said, "That's worth looking into." He pulled a notepad toward him and began scribbling. A minute later, he lifted his head and smiled at his wife. "As soon as we drag our way out of this mess, we're going back to our cabin. And I don't care if we never see anyone else again in all our lives."
Priscilla laughed. "Those are the Council meetings. They've made you antisocial. The same thing happened with my father on the weekends. He would scarcely want to talk to anyone."
Ben was taken aback. "You aren't comparing me to Alexander Dahl, are you?"
"Only in that, Ben. The way you act when you're thrust into the thick of people when you would rather be alone. There the likeness ends, though. You think about other people, care about them, even being a loner by nature. My father never did, not even to raise his popularity. And I'll tell you something else. We ought to bring up the idea of opening a school, and not just for children, but for adults. There are many professional men among the newcomers. They ought to pass on their skills."
"That's a grand idea, Pris, but don't you think we should be more concerned about having enough food to put in everyone's mouth right now?"
"Knowledge and skills tend to dissipate, Ben. Preserving them is the best investment we can make toward the future. Consider all the camps where the kids don't know how to read, because they didn't have someone like Mac to teach them. People want to learn, Ben. It's power."
* * *
The idea of opening a school germinated, but did not really take root until some weeks later, when a thin, balding man carrying a single battered suitcase made his way to town. He went straight to Kate and Tony's place, where he was fortunate enough to meet both his sister and his brother.
"Jordan!" Ben clapped him on the shoulder. "It's great to have you here. You look really… really…"
He had to pause and search for the right word. In truth, his brother looked weather-beaten. He was thinner than Ben remembered, and there were wrinkles under his eyes and near his mouth which most certainly hadn't been there six months before.
"I know. I got kicked out of the department," Jordan said matter-of-factly. "It was expected, of course. I wish you'd seen the black eye Glenn had given me. I don't think I'll ever get another job in the Boundary for the rest of my life. Any chance you might rustle up a sandwich for me, Kate?"
"Sure!" She sprang into action at once. "Sit down and get comfortable. You did a good thing coming here. We hoped you would. But where's Allie?"
"Allie had a breakdown when I was fired. She took the kids to her mom's and says she has to stay there for a while to figure things out."
Kate froze, bread knife in hand, looking murderous. "She what? That selfish, unsupportive little—"
Ben cleared his throat and quelled Kate with a look. "She'll come around, Jordan."
"I hope so," his brother said, looking miserable.
"Doesn't she realize," Kate broke in, "how important what you did—"
"No, Kate. Allie doesn't want to know. All she ever wanted was peace of mind and security, which is understandable. She's the mother of a family."
"So am I. So is Prissy, for goodness' sake. Some things matter more than—"
"I know, Kate. That's why I'm here now, with barely anything more than the clothes on my back."
"Things will settle down," Ben said. "And there's a job for you here, Jordan. In truth there are more like a thousand jobs to choose from, but there's something I think will fit you well." He then proceeded to talk about Priscilla's idea of opening a school. "Working with the environment, keeping safe and dodging polluted areas. These are all things people would do well to know more thoroughly. You could teach people, and run the school. I don't know how much this would pay, but for starters, there would be room and board."
"Thanks, Ben. I'd like that."
"I'm sorry things have gotten rough."
"Don't be. It was inevitable. I knew it would come to this the moment I started working with General E, and unlike Allie, I was prepared. I made my choices, Ben." Jordan took a huge bite of the egg sandwich Kate placed in front of him. "Choices I should have made a long, long time ago."
* * *
Stephanie entered her husband's office without knocking.
She never did that before, and Ned looked up from the document he was perusing with an expression of extreme surprise. Though he was being interrupted during important work, sullenness and irritation did not become people in his position, so he hastily arranged his features into a polite smile.
"Is everything alright, dear?"
She nodded, but her nod was a little stiff.
"How are the children?"
"Fine. Carla is taking them for a walk."
Finally, Ned gave in. "What is it, Stephy?"
"Is it true, Ned?"
"What is true?"
"That despite the treaty, you're working on ways to make people give up their cross-Boundary assets and come to live in the Urban Islands again?"
"Why, yes, Stephy. We now have to maneuver around this damn treaty which was forced on us, and which we had no choice but to sign. But we're doing our best to convince people to do the sensible thing and get away from the rebellious elements. We have thousands of refugees who have come to sign up as inhabitants of the Boundary again. And if they prove to be trustworthy, we might send them to settle the northern colony. No land-grabbing and freeholding this time, though. Everything is going to be very well-regulated, and…"
Stephanie clicked her tongue impatiently. "I don't care about your regulations," she exclaimed with uncharacteristic vehemence. "What I want to know is what's going to happen to my sister."
He let out an exasperated sigh. "Priscilla made her choice. She decided to stay with the rebels and throw everything away. She didn't have to do that. One step in the right direction would secure a nice position not just for her, but even for that good-for-nothing wildling she lives with."
Stephanie's eyes blazed. "Prissy is my only sister," she said, her voice quivering with suppressed emotion. "You are not going to just write her off."
"I rather believe she has written us all off."
"Still, you can't—"
"Steph." Ned adopted the tone of someone explaining that two plus two equals four to an overexcited child. "The rebels won't be able to hold out for very long. They want to play at independence, maybe even at founding a state, but they don't have resources, infrastructure or a legal system. They can't organize or defend themselves. They hardly have any fuel, weapons, or food stores. And winter is on the way. Trust me. A couple of months from now, their little makeshift leadership will have disbanded, and they'll be reduced to nothing more than a bunch of half-starved communes. Then people will step up and beg for the White Tower's protection. And your sister will be among them. I'm sure of it."
* * *
Andrew Van Wullen arrived at Ned Thornton's office for a private meeting to discuss what he considered no less than a brilliant idea, but found him frowning over a long list of names.
"Can't it wait, Uncle Andrew? I'm going over these names now. Trying to figure out who the traitors are. We've found some, but surely not all. You can't trust anyone these days, it seems."
"You can't ever trust anyone. But put that aside for now. What do you know of the history of Australia?"
"Australia?" Thornton blinked in surprise. "Well, I know that at the beginning of the Great War, Australia signed a Neutrality Commitment, which was a wise move as far as the times went, and then later—"
"No, no. I meant about its earlier history. Did you know that at some point Australia used to be a place to which criminals and other unwanted elements were packed off?"
"I heard something about that, yes."
"Well, we could do the same thing. I'm sure you and I could make it happen by presenting it to the Minister in the proper light."
"What do you mean, do the same thing? Do you suggest that we move our prisoners to Australia?"
"We don't need to go that far. We can send them across the Boundary. That way, we kill two birds with one stone. Get rid of the budget drain of keeping that scum, and further destabilize the cross-Boundary settlements."
"Do you remember what happened to Australia, though? It remained neutral during the Great War and is now the richest country in the world, having retained most of its population and resources."
"It won't happen in this case, Ned. This is a surefire way to destroy the rebels' pathetic little establishment. They won't be able to deal with the influx of prisoners. Soon, whatever citizens of the Boundary still remain out there will be running to the crossing points, begging to be taken back."
26
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Copperstone Top Security Prison was not the most cheerful place in the world, and that Tuesday morning was no exception. When Officer Hugh Miller summoned fifty of the most notorious prisoners in the place to the conference hall, they all knew something was up. Until today, they only left their cells one at a time, twice a week, so they could walk around in a twenty-foot square, high walled exercise space.
"Pay attention," barked Miller. "I'll have no chitchat right now, because I have something important to say. Those who don't want to listen can head back to their cells right now."
Miller gestured to the armed guards that stood around the perimeter of the hall. Even unarmed, the fifty men in orange uniform who were assembled there were some of the most dangerous people in the Boundary. They were mostly recidivists, violent thieves, rapists, and murderers, and many of them had killed more than once.
The room fell silent. Nobody wanted to go back to their cell without finding out what is going on.
Officer Mille
r scanned the crowd of criminals with his small, beady eyes. He turned to a prisoner in the front row, briefly glancing at his name tag. "You, Logan. What were you in for?"
"Violation of premises and aggravated assault," Logan said in a flat voice. He was a big man, with hairy arms like a gorilla's. "What's that gotta do with anything, Officer?"
Miller ignored the question. "And how much time do you have left here at Copperstone?"
"Eight years, five months, and twenty-one days," said Logan, "But I hope I'll have some knocked off for good behavior."
"Right. So what would you say if I said you can be a free man tomorrow?"
Logan's mouth twitched. "I'd say good joke, boss."
"Right. Well, I'm going to say the same thing to you all." Logan's glance swept over fifty puzzled faces. "You can be free men tomorrow. If you want to."
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then someone called out in triumph, "It's universal amnesty!"
"Not for the likes of us, you dolt," someone drawled. "If they're letting us out, who they going to keep locked up? Guys who don't pay child support?"
"No, there must be a catch. They're gonna let us go if we agree to have our balls cut off," sniggered Jackson, a convicted serial rapist.
Miller gave a thin-lipped smile. "None of you are going to be let loose on the streets before you walk leaning on a stick. Your life is going to run out between these walls. Or you can be free tomorrow, as I said… across the Boundary."
The silence lasted for a long while this time, and it was almost possible to hear the frantic beating of fifty hearts. "What's there across the Boundary?" someone finally demanded.
"Not much," admitted Miller. "There's plenty of space to move around, that there is. Enough food for those who know how to get it. Some people. Some women. How long has it been since you saw a real live woman?"
There was another spell of silence as the prisoners digested this information. "There's nothing worth shit across the Boundary now that the government made its economic reforms," declared Cramer, who read the newspapers each day. "Whoever stays there is probably gonna starve."