by Saul Garnell
Starting with their founding as an old gold-mining town, she explained with rich enthusiasm Bisbee’s colorful origins. The birthplace of cowboy shoot-em-ups and gold miner legend in the nineteenth century. But that all changed when gold mining was replaced by copper. The town transformed in tune with technology, and Margaret pointed out evidence of growth brought on by the Industrial Age. The Copper Queen mine was the primary source of transformation, and the Queen proved one of the richest sources of copper throughout the entire southwest, if not the world.
Stopping before a contemporary art gallery facade, Margaret further explained Bisbee’s painful transition into an artist enclave. After copper prices fell in the 1960s, many low income artists moved in and saved the town from near collapse by resurrecting abandoned red-brick structures. And though considered an oddity at the time, Bisbee soon established an economy based on tourism. Drawing upon their rustic heritage, coupled with culture and natural beauty, the town of Bisbee came back to life and earned a solid reputation.
But change wracked the town once more. Negative effects of the information age inflamed an unrelenting war against terrorism. Cities along the pre-ASPAU Mexican border became dangerous hot spots, as anti-terrorism enforcement became a euphemism for illegal immigration and drug reform. Pacifistic artists and innkeepers soon radicalized against government might and the technology it called for. This change culminated in riots. Especially after a public suicide to protest the flexi-screen lamination of city streets around 2035.
Margaret explained with horrific detail how a local artist named Sage Jespergard lit herself afire using ethanol solvent while chanting Buddhist sutras. With arms flaying in the air, she made whooshing sounds and screamed out a crude dramatization. Oh, yeah! That babe cooked up real good! Sumeet and Shinzou simply looked on aghast.
After the riots, the town banned all open-air advertising and other technologies, which most agreed were undesirable. A final and steady influx of Neo-Primitives sealed the town’s fate as a non-tech enclave throughout the latter half of the twenty-first century.
Margaret ended her tour at the reception desk of the Copper Queen mine tour office. It was a self service tour carefully crafted for visitors who wanted to see inside the mine at the far end of town. Gazing with solemn displeasure, she waited while Shinzou and Sumeet registered for the one-hour tour. They received maps and paper guides from a pretty receptionist dressed in a touristy cowgirl uniform.
“I’ll leave you boys on your own,” Margaret said dryly. “Won’t be needing me anymore.”
Sumeet puzzled over her remark. “I’ve enjoyed your company so far, won’t you...?”
Shinzou cut in. “We’ll catch up with you at the bar for drinks. Take care, Margaret, and thanks a lot.”
Still drunk and crotchety, Margaret sneered and walked back toward the spa. Sumeet watched her saunter off before following Shinzou toward some mining carts quietly waiting on the side.
“Sorry. Did I say something to offend her?” Sumeet asked innocently. “We were having such a good time. I don’t understand why she left.”
“Oh, no, don’t take it the wrong way,” Shinzou said, while indicating a mining cart for them to sit in. “It has nothing to do with you. Margaret gets moody coming near the mine, and won’t go inside. It’s rather sad, really.”
“She’s claustrophobic?”
“No, more tragic than that.”
“Oh.”
Sighing reluctantly, Shinzou said, “You see, Margaret’s life is tightly coupled with the mine. She and her late husband were young geologists working with Phelps Dodge. They mined copper on Earth back then.”
“I see,” Sumeet said, while looking at the cart inquisitively.
Like an amusement park ride, the chain of carts slowly moved toward the mine’s primary entrance, pulled by an automated diesel-powered engine. It chugged away pumping out fairly clean hot air.
Shinzou explained more as they entered the dark tunnel. “I said earlier that Margaret was sacred. It’s more than an honorary title. You see, she and her husband were running geological experiments in deep parts of the old mine. It had been unused for over a century, but it was convenient. So they went down there and set up a temp lab. But for some unknown reason, the earth destabilized. The whole tunnel came down on them.”
“That’s awful,” Sumeet exclaimed.
“Margaret survived but a few of the team members, including her husband, were crushed by falling rock. Margaret stayed down there for two days straight until all the bodies were dug out. People say she went back down a few times to commune with her dead husband. But that’s just local mythology. In truth, she was just broken. Gave up her career, and used her husband’s insurance money to set up a jewelry shop in town. Been here ever since.”
“I see,” Sumeet said solemnly. “Kind of puts her whole personality into context.”
The mining carts rattled their way further down the tunnel while a scratchy pre-recorded announcement explained historic details of the mine. However, Sumeet concentrated on the temperature. It abruptly dropped, and he rubbed his arms to stay warm.
Shinzou apologized for not preparing them better, but Sumeet didn’t mind the discomfort. The mine was dark and a bit wet. Pools of water formed in uneven areas near a platform that awaited them. With only a short walk, they were soon guided to the center of a huge malformed cavern – the heart of the old mine, with walls heavily scarred by the cuts of uncountable pickaxes.
“Wow, look at this place,” Sumeet said while gazing all around.
“Dug out by hand with simple metal tools,” Shinzou commented.
“Hard to understand why they’d do this.” Sumeet said scratching his head. “Was copper worth the effort?”
Shinzou chuckled. “I think you might draw inspiration from this old mine. Maybe it’s hard to believe nowadays, but electricity was the new technology back then. And using it required copper. Men were killing themselves to dig up enough to meet demand.”
Sumeet nodded. “Strange to imagine how it was back then.”
Shinzou mused on. “But that’s what technology does. It promises to transform the world around us. Whether that’s good or bad depends on the person. But when men perceive what is possible, what could be created as a potential, then they set their goals and follow them to whatever end.”
“Interesting.”
“It may be hard for you to understand, but the heart of what technology actually is derives from its conception, man’s desire to create something that previously wasn’t there. Something useful, whether it be a simple stone hammer, copper wire, or the most sophisticated computer. It’s all an expression of our core capacity to create things from nothing. It’s actually a philosophical precept. What Jean-Paul Sartre referred to as the Nothingness.”
Sumeet rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Sartre? Where did I hear that name before?”
“I mentioned him the other day. He was the one who also said, Do as you like and then deal with the consequences.”
“Oh, yes, now I remember.”
“I’ll send you some links that outline his work. I think you’ll find it useful knowing what motivates man to create technology.” Shinzou waved his arms in all directions. “It explains why we’re so eager to do any damn thing. As long as we think it’ll make the world better somehow.”
A small tone sounded. Sumeet didn’t realize where it came from until Shinzou fished out a small phone from his jacket.
“I thought there were no transmissions allowed in Bisbee,” he pointed out.
Shinzou grinned. “They’re not, but this is Quantum.
Quantum? Sumeet was surprised by that fact. Quantum communication was not widely distributed, and most users were either fabulously wealthy or worked for some government organization. Why on earth would he be carrying that? Sumeet stared as Shinzou read a short message displayed on his quantum reader.
Shinzou looked up and noted Sumeet’s funny look. “I’ll explain my little toy lat
er. In the meantime, we need to take a short trip up to Santa Fe, New Mexico.”
“Santa Fe? What’s there?”
“Another technology, but something more recent – compared to electricity, that is.”
Sumeet asked warily. “What technology might that be?”
“Sentient Beings,” Shinzou said, heading for the platform. “Embryonic Sentient Beings to be precise.”
Sumeet looked on completely aghast. How could that be, he thought to himself? Was this a joke? But Shinzou seemed quite serious and started walking back toward the mining cars while looking intently at something written in his reader. Sumeet followed, shaking his head and trying to get Shinzou’s attention back.
“But...Sentient research is classified,” Sumeet said. “No one gets to see how Sentients are created.”
Shinzou swiveled about to face Sumeet and said, “Then I suppose this is your lucky day!”
Douglas Arizona: 1906
Command Post—Arizona Rangers
Captain Rynning looked up from his work as a shotgun blast echoed through his office. What the hell? Its target was outside, a severely deformed tin can that careened up in the air upon impact. No permanent harm was inflicted, but Thomas didn’t appreciate the unscheduled disturbance.
Standing up, he angrily cursed under his breath and stomped over to the door. Squinting out into the bright morning light, he peered to see who fired the shot. A few men near the corral were admiring their Winchesters. Cheshire cat grins and nods were shared amongst the men.
Rynning yelled harshly. “What’s going on? Who scheduled target practice?”
Grins faded and the group settled on a safe answer before replying. “Just getting ready for tomorrow, Captain!” one private hollered back. “Trying out the new ten gauge!”
Rynning jabbed angrily with his index finger. “Don’t waste too much ammo! We’ll need it down in Mexico!”
With sullen approval, Captain Thomas Rynning of the Arizona Rangers returned to work. More rounds went off periodically, but they no longer disturbed him. He placidly scratched out one signature after another, his inky scrawl drying increasingly faster in the diminishing humidity.
More time passed, and the sun moved higher, relentlessly baking the Sonoran desert. Maybe he was wrong to yell before? They’d be going into Mexico come morning, and they would probably need to shoot their way out of there – if things went badly, that is. But the target practice had finally ended, and he could only see a few towering Saguaro that stood by passively within the dusty compound. Quiet sentinels with arms jutting toward the sky in silent prayer.
Silence broke as someone finally approached his office. His Sergeant, John Packard, walked in with additional reports and news of the troop’s preparation.
“Captain Rynning?” he said politely. “The men are ready to leave for Cananea in the morning.”
Rynning continued filling out forms for several moments. “Very good, Sergeant,” he said with passive interest. “And what about Bisbee? Did we round up enough men?”
“At least fifty, sir.”
Rynning looked up and slapped a hand on the table. “Good! And what about Tombstone?”
Packard flipped through a report. “Yes, sir, I confirm over a hundred.”
Rynning nodded with satisfaction. “That means the posse will have over two hundred. We’ll need them if things don’t settle down.”
“And...all the telegrams have been filed for you to read later. That is, should you want to see them,” Packard added with guarded concern.
Rynning sighed and adjusted his glasses. The Sergeant’s dry expression was annoying. He put his pen down gently, gesturing for Packard to sit in the empty stool facing his oak wood desk.
“Take a load off,” Rynning ordered. “Seems you have something you want to get off your chest.”
Packard sat and removed his hat, placing it neatly on his lap. His stool creaked but held under the weight of the heavyset ranger.
“Well, sir, it’s about this deployment. For Colonel Green, that is. With all due respect, I am not sure our actions are right.”
Rynning smiled, and nodded rhythmically a few times. Leaning back, he crossed his legs to think.
“You don’t believe I have acted within my authority?” he asked.
Packard did not immediately respond. He rubbed his hat brim and considered his reply.
“Well, sir,” he began. “I think the Governor’s mind is clear. He doesn’t want excursions into Mexico.”
Rynning sat up straighter and vigorously rubbed his glasses with a chamois. “Yes, he indeed did make his feelings known. But his intent was to stop any direct conflict.” Rynning put on his reading spectacles and adjusted them carefully “But by my reckoning this ain’t the same thing.”
“Sir?”
Rynning huffed. “Clearly, we have no desire to fight Mexican troops. We’re helping Bill Greene, an American businessman who’s requested our support against socialists within his workforce. And this mission is undertaken with the explicit request of Governor Yzabel himself.”
“But Mexico’s a bee hive. There’s even talk of revolution against Diaz. Us going down there might look like we’re taking sides. Ain’t that what the Governor was talking about?”
Rynning nodded again. “Diaz isn’t going anywhere as I see it. Revolution is a dream, and talk is cheap so I don’t pay it no mind. The way I see it, Diaz wants us down there to keep the peace. I’d stake my life on it. But I’m concerned about a more important issue. You need to see the big picture here.”
“Big picture?” Packard asked.
Rynning stared at Packard with smoldering anticipation. “Do you know what’s really going on down there, Pack?”
He spoke guardedly. “Seems to me the miners are mighty angry about something.” Packard scratched his head in contemplation. “Reckon it’s about their wages. I heard they want to get the same as whites and...”
“No, no! That’s not what I meant,” Thomas rubbed his eyes again. “I mean...what’s our business down there in the mines? Why do you think everyone’s so loco about copper?”
Packard fidgeted in his chair. “I suppose we use it to make things. Bullets and such.”
“Right, that’s it. We use copper to make things. But I want you to see the really big picture here. Copper...well, it’s worth more than gold practically.”
“Uhm, yes, I reckon you’re right.”
Arms akimbo, Rynning rocked on his heels. “I can see you haven’t had the chance to speak with Colonel Greene, but don’t you see, Pack?” Thomas walked over to the window and jabbed a finger toward the desert. “Right now there’s nothing out there! But the world is changing. We’re inventing all sorts of contraptions. Cheaper cars, hydroelectric power plants. Don’t ya see? We don’t need gold to make those things. We need copper!”
Packard swiveled back and forth in his stool to observe Thomas as he paced about. Rynning seemed all charged up and finally stopped to lean against the window ledge.
Looking outside, Thomas entered a dreamlike state. “One day, every home will have copper wires. Newfangled lights that use electricity...maybe even a telephone. The world ain’t gonna look like it does today.”
Packard gawked like a young schoolboy. “Well, I suppose. But what does that have to do with the miners getting all riled up? I just think they want money. But I don’t know Colonel Greene like you do, sir, and...”
“Bill? He’s a great man!” Thomas belched out. “Been prospecting these parts since you were a little kid, and brave as they come. Why, he’s been in more shootouts with Apaches and outlaws than any man in our company. And lived to tell about it, mind you!”
“I see,” Packard nodded.
“But all that changed when he discovered Cananea. It was worth more than anything imaginable. Everyone laughed at first, but Bill was the man to figure it out. He’s a new kind of capitalist.
“A capita-what?” Packard said, cocking his head.
“
A self-made millionaire! With a vision about what this country can be one day. Don’t you see?” Thomas pointed out the door toward the flat desert.” If we want to turn that wasteland into a proper city, we’ll need people like Bill, his Mexicans, and his bankers from New York. Help us make it into a...well, you might say into a Garden of Eden.”
“So...,” Pack drawled on. “The Mexicans are helping make us a Garden of Eden?”
Thomas looked back annoyed. “Well, in some sense. But we both know how tough it is down in the mines. And Bill? Well, Bill Greene is a fair man from where I stand. So if he sends a telegraph asking for help? Well, by golly, that’s what I intend to do!”
“Yes, sir!” Packard said, standing up quickly.
“You with me, Pack?”
“Why, of course, sir! The men and I will follow ya into hell if you say so.”
“Not hell, Pack. The Garden of Eden!” Rynning purred. “I’m mighty happy we had this talk. The truth will make things right.”
“Yes, sir!”
Steps on the porch echoed. Private Ronald McDonald stepped into the office holding a small parchment.
“Captain, we’ve received another telegram from Naco. They’re ready to move out first thing in the morning.”
Packard stood up and took the paper, examining it and then shuffling it together with his other reports.
Looking up, Packard smiled. “That’ll put us over two hundred and fifty, Captain.”
Slapping hands on his desk, Thomas leaped out of his seat. “That’s what I wanted to hear! Now we’ve got a posse big enough to create some order!” He walked toward the door and patted Packard on the arm. “Let’s go check on the supplies. Come morning, we’re on our way to the Garden of Eden!”
With a burst of laughter, Thomas marched out the door and down the steps. Ronald looked on with suspicion and then turned to Packard.
“The Garden of Eden? What the hell’s Captain talking about?”