by C M Dancha
26
THE OBSERVATIONS OF A LEADER
When Easton wasn't at Monticello, with Klever or friends, he walked the streets of Charlottesville observing the people, their living conditions and institutions. It was easy to compare the sordid condition of Charlottesville to his memories of Colonial America and what he’d seen in the Zurich Free Zone.
After each trip, he would add his observations to a comparison list he kept on a secured Halo file provided by Raul. The list was laid out in a simple chart format with three headings; Charlottesville, Zurich and Eighteenth Century America. Anyone could look at his chart and draw conclusions from the recorded information. It didn't matter if the person had been to either city or knew anything about Colonial America.
The first and most telling observation was the feel of each locale. Colonial America had a vibrant feel as seen by the hustle and bustle of its citizens. Easton remembered the people as happy with perpetual smiles on their faces. They were easy to engage in conversation and enjoyed a good laugh at their own expense. As a new nation, they had their work cut out for them. From early morning until late evening everyone worked hard to provide for their family's survival. The harder and smarter you worked, the more success you attained. There were few drunkards or laggards looking for handouts. The people of Colonial America had a purpose in life which they aggressively tended to each day.
On the surface, the citizens of Zurich appeared happy, but Easton had the impression they were barely content with their lives. They appeared to be more concerned about status and quantity of possessions than helping their fellow man or community. One-upping or taking advantage of their neighbor seemed to be a priority. People spent a good part of their waking hours at their jobs, but there was rarely a correlation between long hours and success.
The feel of the Charlottesville community was dark and drab with festering malaise. Buildings, streets, and parks were dirty and run down. Slum projects housed most of the citizens. The only people living in fashionable apartments were the puppet government officials. Citizens had very little to do each day, other than hanging out on street corners playing games and looking for trouble. Most of them had no purpose or goals in life, not even a good hobby. Success was considered a liability rather than a benefit. Anyone taking the initiative to improve their station in life was ridiculed by fellow citizens.
The ‘make-work’ jobs provided by the government offered little opportunity for advancement or self-worth. Working hard was a waste of time and effort. There was no incentive to do more than the bare minimum. Everyone received the same amount of monthly World Credits. A doctor received the same pay as a coal miner. The coal miner and surgeon could double their production and not receive one more World Credit. Putting in the weekly fifteen to eighteen hours at their jobs was nothing more than an excuse to receive their monthly allocation of World Credits.
The only thing Easton observed which sparked any enthusiasm among the Charlottesville citizens was wheeling and dealing in the underground economy. Men, women, and children of all ages took part in the nonstop bartering of items for extra income. It was rare when Easton walked a city street without being approached by a street peddler who had the latest, great deal. It wasn't long before the street merchants knew that the tall man with long auburn hair and freckles was interested only in red wine.
Easton learned quickly to be on the watch for government enforcers. Wearing lavender berets, they swept into every sector of the city with thriving underground economies. They arrested the most obvious capitalists and carted them off to re-education camps. There, the ‘radicals’ were indoctrinated about the evils of capitalism. The government tried to convince the offenders that any form of capitalism took dwindling supplies of commodities out of the system so they couldn't be distributed, free of charge, to the needy. The re-education teachers failed to mention that the ‘needy’ usually meant government officials living the good life. They also forgot to mention the unpaid taxes from illegal, underground sales which the government wanted to get its hands on. Most dissidents left the re-education camps unfazed by the propaganda and were back to wheeling and dealing within a day.
The people of Colonial America provided for themselves and their families. The government didn't provide a safety net for its citizens. Anyone down on their luck was helped by neighbors or church congregations. Zurich citizens had a limited number of free social services. Health care was subsidized, but not entirely free. Transportation was provided at the government's expense. Housing and education were also subsidized for workers earning less than fifty thousand Credits per year. Taxes to support government programs were progressive, depending on each citizen's income. The higher the income, the higher the tax rate.
Citizens in Charlottesville were taxed at a seventy-six to ninety percent rate. Most of the World Credits each citizen received monthly ended up back in the government coffers within a couple of weeks. In return for heavy taxation, virtually everything was provided free by the government. This included health care, housing, social services, travel, and counseling. On the surface, this seemed great, but the free services were second rate and very difficult to get due to rules, regulations and red tape. Waiting lines to get a new pair of shoes could be hours long. Seeing a doctor, unless it was a major emergency, took at least two months. Getting an available government apartment sometimes took years.
All the government services were in disrepair because the citizens abused them. The average citizen didn't understand that his Tax Credits were paying for the government services he abused. Free services or items didn't have value to the common man. They were considered a right, not a privilege.
The only things in Charlottesville and Zurich which were better than Colonial America were the technological advances. Medicine was light years ahead of old America. Most forms of cancer had been cured and very few people died from accidents unless they couldn't get admitted into a hospital fast enough. Easton was astounded by how easily people traveled hundreds, if not thousands, of miles. It took days or weeks to travel by horse or buggy in old America. In modern times, people got on a transport or train, sat back and enjoyed the long-distance trip. Many times, Easton watched citizens of Charlottesville get on the public-free transportation and ride around the city all day for something to do, or catch up on sleep in a crime-free vehicle.
The frills which modern technology provided were wonderful, but Easton preferred the society of Colonial America. Having a goal in life was more important than hover vehicles. Being allowed to own property was preferential to modern medical cures. Keeping the fruits of one's labor trumped instantaneous communication between people. In Easton's opinion, the people of Charlottesville and elsewhere needed a good dose of democracy with minimal government intervention and taxation.
Easton studied his chart intently. He finally concluded that if the average man could be taught to fend for himself and not rely on government, a better, modern society would develop.
27
MACON FOR THE LAST TIME
While Easton was observing and analyzing socialist America, Rollie decided to go home to Macon. He didn't know what to expect. It had been over a year since Grandma LeeLee's death and his resurrection as a clone.
"What will you accomplish by going to Macon?"
"I'm not sure, Raul. I have a feeling I should go there and look around. I want to visit Grandma's grave but other than that, I'm not sure what good will come of this trip. As I said, I just have a gut feeling I should go home."
Rollie was revealing only half of his reason to venture back to Macon. The previous night, Grandma LeeLee had come to him in a dream. Once again, she’d been in her pure white robes, with white hair and skin.
"Hello, Sunny Boy. It's been a while since we talked the last time. How have you been?"
"I've been fine, Grandma. I've come back to America with my friends. We left Europe because things were getting too crazy and dangerous. We think war is going to break out there soon."
&
nbsp; "Sunny Boy, war is going to break out everywhere soon. All men will be fighting against each other. Evil will be on the march on two fronts. There will only be one group that has a chance to confront and stop the evil and you’ll play an important role in the army of good and justice. Great Granddad will lead this army, but he’ll need your help, Raul's help and the assistance of your other friends. His alliances around the world will be the only chance of stopping the march of evil. There will be a spy within your ranks, someone who will sell you out for personal gain and recognition. Closely watch those around you. Believe more of what you see than hear."
"Who will win, Grandma?"
"I don't know, Sunny Boy. Evil can be attractive to anyone who has been slighted in life. The devil knows all the tricks to have many follow him. He will lie to the gullible, promise the wanton and dupe the unwanted with promises of power and riches. Only those with great faith will be able to strike out and cast aside his false promises. The righteous must win for the sake of mankind, Sunny Boy."
"Is there anything else I should know, Grandma?"
"Some will change sides during the struggle. There will be those from the ranks of good who will succumb to the devil's temptation and follow him. And, there will be those with a black smudge on their souls who will see the light of good and join the faithful. Again, judge those around you by what they do, not by what they say."
"I will Grandma. Before we part, tell me what I should do with the maple box that had Great Granddad's host samples in it."
"I wondered when you would ask about the box. Keep it with you until a Man-From-The-East gives you something to hide in it. He will be the man who can open the secret drawer."
Rollie wanted to ask Grandma LeeLee more, but the words wouldn't come as she floated toward him and her image started to disintegrate. The last thing he remembered before waking up was Grandma holding his head in both her hands as she kissed him on the forehead.
"Rollie, if you’re determined to go, then I want you to be prepared. I'll get you a fake ID and we’ll give you a new cover story. Give me a few days to find out what type of transportation would be the safest. And stop shaving, a beard will help hide your identity. In fact, we'll shave your head before you go. I don't want anyone recognizing you in Macon. You're a wanted man in Europe and I'm sure the North American authorities are looking for you. Remember, the authorities aren't fools. If they catch you, then they'll know we’re close by. As you already know, the boys in the lavender berets can be very persuasive when they want to know something."
"Yeah, I remember their interviewing techniques in Zurich."
For the next week, Raul worked on developing Rollie's new cover story and identity. By the time Rollie was ready to board the magnetic float train heading south to Macon, his beard had grown in nicely. Raul decided against shaving his head, opting instead to color Rollie's head hair and beard silver, so he appeared to be an old man of about eighty. After teaching Rollie to walk hunched over with a cane, there was little chance that people would give him a second look.
"Okay, here's your ID information. I've already downloaded it for you. You should be able to repeat your assumed name and background in your sleep now. Don't do anything to attract attention and for god's sake, don't let your family know that you’re in Macon. As far as they know, you were killed by a deranged killer in Zurich about the same time your Grandma died. Contact me when you get there and then keep me updated. If you run into any trouble, let me know immediately. I've arranged for you to pick up a hover vehicle at the Macon station. Here are the codes you'll need to operate it. When you leave, return the vehicle to the same stall. Have you got any questions?"
"I don't think so, Raul." Rollie paused a few moments, hung his head and said, "Raul, I don't know if I'm doing the right thing but thanks for helping. I don't know what I would have done without you these past couple of years."
"Yeah, yeah, right. Get out of here, old man."
Rollie boarded the train and found an available empty cabin. Although the train was new and used the modern, reverse magnetic technology for propulsion and stopping, the interior of the train was in terrible condition. It looked as though a pack of wild animals had been turned loose to wreak havoc on the interior. Seats were slit open. Walls were sprayed with political slogans, gang emblems, and threats. Few of the lights worked. Besides being run-down, it looked as though the interior hadn't been cleaned in years.
What a difference between the condition of this train and the ones he used at times in the Swiss Free Zone! He thought immediately of Easton's comparison chart. It clearly pointed out how anything provided free of charge to citizens was mindlessly abused. Unless people had the connection of ownership to an object, there was little chance they would treat it with respect. This train was a perfect example of one of Easton's poly-econ theories.
For the next six hours, the train ran south, stopping only at the stations which had passengers to pick up or drop off. At several stations, Rollie was surprised to see three to four lavender beret soldiers patrolling the platform and depot. When had this military presence at public transportation facilities started? None of the government news outlets had mentioned it. Had the despair and turmoil of Europe and Asia finally made its way to the Americas?
After picking up the hover vehicle, Rollie drove to the cemetery where his grandmother was buried. Using the automated directory, he identified her grave quickly from the several thousand in the memorial park. It was unusual for anyone other than high government officials to have a ground burial. Most graveyards had been filled to capacity during the plague years. Since then, the government refused to allocate any more land to bury the dead. In the twenty-second century, you had one choice for disposing of a body; cremation. In addition, the government started to reclaim the land by exhuming bodies over fifty years old and cremating them. How Grandma LeeLee got a plot of land to be buried in was a mystery.
Like all the other graves, Grandma LeeLee's was marked with a number. Headstones had been replaced years before by holographic obituaries. To activate them, all the visitor had to say was, ‘Obit On’.
Grandma's holographic obit was in pastels with songbirds and flowers adorning the edges. At the top, centered in the middle, was a beautiful picture of Grandma which Rollie estimated was taken thirty to forty years before her death. A lovely, orchestrated song played softly in the background. The music helped to lessen the heartache of reading about the dearly departed. Rollie sat on the soft midsummer grass and read what had been written about his Grandmother.
Llewellyn Sally Sweats (2044-2158 A.D.) Known affectionately as Grandma LeeLee. At the time of her passing, she was the third oldest person in the world. A survivor of the FISS plague. Proud descendant of slaves from 18th century Old America. Worked at the Macon Educational Board for over fifty years.
She was preceded in death by her parents, three brothers, and four sisters. Loving mother of eight children who gave her thirty-two grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. Loved to sit on her front porch and wave at all who passed by her house. Spent countless hours telling the neighborhood children stories from the past, feeding them cookies and lemonade and patching their scraped knees and elbows.
A staunch supporter of the World Council and local government. She lobbied diligently for the election of her grandson, George (M.C.) Sweats to the office of First Officer for the 4th World Government district. Grandma LeeLee left this world wishing equality for all.
Rollie read LeeLee's obit at least a half-dozen times. The first two paragraphs were accurate and well written. The only surprise was finally learning his Grandmother's real first and middle names. He wondered if her middle name was a tribute to Sally Hemings.
The last paragraph of the obit was not only confusing, but pure rubbish. The Grandmother Rollie knew hated socialistic government. There was no way that she’d lobbied for M.C. to join the ranks of something she hated. The idea of Grandma LeeLee's involvement in a political campaign was ludicrous.
But, the last sentence about Grandma LeeLee wishing equality for all was very strange. Rollie didn't have any doubt that Grandma desired equality for everyone, but the woman was also a realist who knew that equality wasn't something handed out by the government. It was earned by giving everyone the opportunity to earn it. If Grandma LeeLee left this world wishing for anything, it was for people to find and know the Lord.
Whoever wrote this obit either didn't know Grandma LeeLee, or intentionally slanted it for political reasons. It was starting to make a little more sense why Grandma was given a plot of land for her grave. In Rollie's opinion, it was a sick and inappropriate attempt to advertise the merits of socialized government on the back of an iconic member of Macon society. The real reason was more sinister.
As Rollie shook his head at the stupidity of the obit and guessed who might have written it, a drone was video and audio recording his time at LeeLee's grave. Even from an altitude of a quarter mile, it could pick up and record every movement, sound, and expression Rollie made. The images were transmitted back to the First Officer's Investigative branch. After watching this strange elderly gentleman for ten minutes, the lavender bereted investigator put in a call to the First Officer's office.
"George Sweats."
"First Officer, this is Crutchfield in Investigations. Sir, there is a man out at your grandmother's grave who you should know about. He's been there for over a half hour, sitting on the grass and reading her halo obit."
"What does he look like, investigator?"
"His hair and beard are gray, and he walks with a cane. I would guess that he's in his seventies."