Short Story

By

Katrina L. Velsor

April 15, 2039

Dearest Diary – It is the thirtieth anniversary of the day our journey began.  You have grown by volumes over the years and I treasure you as much today as I did then.  Hard to believe that I was ever thirty-five!!  What dreams I had…how naive to think we could prevent the inevitable.

I know that I have neglected you, dear friend.  It has become increasingly difficult to find private moments within the walls of our commune.  However, I could not let this important anniversary go by without entering a word or two.  I bartered with a fellow citizen to obtain the candles I am writing by.  Electricity is reserved for community use and individuals are not permitted to use it for things other than chores that benefit the whole.

Enough of my complaints!  I promised I would not do that today.   Oh…hold on.  Someone is at my door…

“Citizen Commander, we confiscated these handwritten volumes during a Commune Raid on Wednesday.  The citizen’s name was Mary Leigh, aged 65” said the soldier.  He placed a large box onto the chair in front of  the Commander of Commune Compliance and Citizen Modification.  It contained several books that appeared to be both professionally bound and handmade.  On the spine of each book were a volume number and the year in which it was written.  Some volumes covered one year and others only a few months.

“What kind of books are these, Soldier Citizen?”

“Diaries, Citizen Commander.  Apparently, Citizen Leigh has been unlawfully documenting her activities with an underground Tea Party Coalition for the past three decades.”

“THREE DECADES!?!?  HOW DID YOU LET THIS GO ON FOR THREE DECADES!?!?” The Commander’s face became twisted with rage.  He slammed his fist on the table beside him upsetting a photograph of the founding father, Barack, which drew a gasp from the soldier.  Realizing what he had done, the Commander quickly retrieved the photo from the floor and polished it with his uniform sleeve before returning it to its place of honor.

“Citizen Commander, Sir, Citizen Leigh had cleverly hidden her writings.  She has lived her public life as a model citizen.  We have had no reason to question her patriotism until Wednesday when a fellow citizen noticed the candle light flickering in her window.  Apparently, she assumed that the commune would be empty.  The reporting Citizen had forgotten his Compliance manual and returned to his room to retrieve it.  That is when he discovered the light in her window.  He advised us immediately and we proceeded to search the building in which Citizen Leigh resides.  Sir, we also recovered paraphernalia from the Tea Party Coalition.  This includes a list of some of the remaining members.  We are conducting raids on their communes as we speak.”

“Good work, Soldier Citizen.  I thought we had squashed those bastards fifteen years ago.  Please leave me.  I want some time to review the books and compile a report.  Where is Citizen Leigh now?”

“Deceased, Sir.  Upon careful review of the situation, we have determined that she brandished a weapon and had to be taken down.  We will send our regrets to her surviving family members.”

“Good, good.  Now leave me.” said the Commander as he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

The soldier nodded his head and quickly left the room, closing the door behind him.  Once alone, the Commander searched through the box.  He came upon a book entitled “Volume I, 2009 – A Joyous Beginning”.  It was in slight disrepair.  The cover was faded and the edges worn.

Walking to his desk, he made himself comfortable and opened the book to the first page…

April 15, 2009

Hello, Diary!  I have never felt comfortable writing to “no one” before.  Diaries seemed so silly.  But this is a momentous occasion for me.  I am going to attend my first tea party!  Our government has changed so drastically from the Founding Fathers’ original plan, they don’t listen to us anymore, and I fear the Health Care Reform Bill being pushed through Congress by the current administration will lead to a larger gap between us and the Constitution (by which we are supposed to live our lives).  I have never been one to be politically active; however, this is a cause I feel I must support.  I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.  Mary

The Commander thumbed through the volume until three words written in big, red letters caught his eye.  “WE HAVE LOST!” This compelled him to read further.

December 19, 2009

Dear Diary – Despite all of our efforts (letters to Congress, attending Town Halls, etc.) the health care bill has become law.  It saddens me greatly to know that 85% of Americans DID NOT WANT THIS, yet we were not allowed to vote on our own futures.  My parents are in their late fifties.  I wonder what awaits them if they get very ill and need long term care.  I fear for children born with disabilities.  I fear for cancer victims.  Something in my gut tells me our rights and freedoms as we know them will eventually fade away.  I truly am afraid.  Mary

Many hours passed as the Commander browsed through year after year.  Mary had been active in transporting children and their families to South America where a Constitutional Colony had been established during the 20’s.  The Border Guards rarely stopped people from leaving New America if they were disabled or elderly.  Those citizens were useless to our government and it saved money if they were under the care of someone else.

However, the government was not happy to lose Techies, Doctors, Nurses, healthy teenagers or those with the potential to work for many years in the Corn Co-Ops.  Many of them had slipped through the complicated network of surveillance equipment, fences and guards leading dogs to escape the oppressive atmosphere in New America.

Mary’s commune was part of the “new Underground Railroad” set up to facilitate their escape.  The government had attempted to remove all of the tunnels created in the early 2000’s by drug cartels in Mexico.  Many had not been discovered until recently.  Fortunately, they were discovered by the Tea Party Coalition and not the government.  Once in Mexico, the Constitutionalists had a fairly easy trip to the South American colony.

Little-by-little, the Constitutional Colony grew.  They bought land in large blocks and grew all of the vegetables they ate.  Cattle were plentiful, as were chickens, eggs, pigs and sheep.  As the years went on, they bought more and more land.  Doctors were able to build a hospital with modern equipment purchased from Georgia and Japan.  An old-style Main Street ran through the more populated area of the commune.  Schools popped up here and there.  Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and other religious structures were erected.  A Colonial Military was formed to protect the borders from invasion by the New American Guard.

During the time of construction, Mary’s parents fell ill.  No matter how hard she tried, they refused to leave their home in New America.  Gordon and Patricia Leigh were eventually relocated to an End-of-Life Facility only to pass away shortly thereafter.  It was difficult for Mary to come to terms with the fact that her parents would never see the Colony.

Not long before she was arrested, Mary had made final preparations to leave New America and take up permanent residence in the Constitutional Colony.  She wrote little of what those preparations entailed.  She seemed excited to begin her new life.  However, the Border Patrol had been exceptionally watchful and travel was very risky.  She decided to delay her trip until late summer.

Citizen Commander closed the final volume at 2 am.  He rose from his desk and studied his reflection in the large picture window.  He ignored the tears that tracked through the deep wrinkles in his face.  “I will have many years to grieve.  Now is the time to act”, he thought to himself.

The list Mary left behind named only those who were known spies for the government.  The Commander was certain some of them had obtained enough information about the “Underground” to do irreparable harm to their mission.  He was also certain that it was only a matter of time before they discovered his role in it.

He removed his uniform jacket and hung it on the back of his chair, gathered as many of Mary’s books as he could carry.  He reached into a desk drawer grabbing a bottle of Zippo fluid and doused the remaining books until the bottle was empty.  In the same drawer was a box of fireplace matches.  He watched as the books were engulfed in flames and left his office through a hidden doorway in his private bathroom.  He could hear fire alarms sounding in the distance as he descended the stairs that led down to one of the cartel’s many abandoned tunnels.  The Commander had made sure this one would remain open “so we have a means of escape in case we are attacked by those Constitutional whackos.”  A change of clothes had been kept at the ready.  He discarded the rest of his uniform and began the long walk through the tunnel to Mexico.

Eric van Ness entered the gates of the Colony a tired, hungry man.  He was greeted with hugs and handshakes from his fellow Constitutionalists who led him to a small diner on Main Street.   “I haven’t had a steak in years.  And baked potatoes.  This is heaven!” he said as he leaned back in his seat.

“Well, Eric, this is regular fare around here.  Get used to it” said the man seated directly opposite him.  A woman in an apron cleared the dishes from the table.  The man who had spoken was Lyle Talbot.  He was one of the original Colonialists.  “Anyway, we are deeply saddened about the loss of Mary.  She was one of the best people I’ve ever known.”

“She sure was, Lyle.”  With that, Eric lifted up the pack he had been carrying.  He emptied the contents onto the table.  People gathered around to see what he had brought.

The diner remained open all night as the Constitutional Colonialists took turns reading Mary’s books aloud…

It was hard to believe that forty years ago she was a starry-eyed graduate of the William J. Clinton College of Political and Societal Studies.  She worked in the now-defunct Social Security Administration evaluating claims.  When they eliminated Social Security benefits, she moved to the Office of Community Assessment.  That wasn’t too bad, she thought.  In her position as Neighborhood Coordinator it was her job to ensure that all HOA’s complied with the New American Directives regarding political and patriotic displays, green landscapes, gas and electric usage and ethnic percentages.  At least she had daily contact with people instead of being stuck behind a desk arguing with a computer all day.

Many jobs came and went, until a year ago.  If nothing else, Amelia was a true patriot.  The Government had been following her career closely and someone from the SWM felt she would be the perfect candidate for the position she now held.

The Hospice building was quite old.  It had been built in 1929 in the Catskill Mountains of New York State.  It was constructed under the watchful eye of a wealthy steel baron as a gift to his mistress (a starlet whose talents only seemed to shine in the bedroom).  She was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in 1934 and the steel baron spent large sums of money making the home more comfortable for his beloved starlet.  Sadly, she passed away in 1940 and the grief-stricken man never returned.

The Government acquired the property from the State in 2020 in exchange for Carbon Credits.  It renovated the interior to comply with the New American Disability Empowerment Act.  However, the exterior remained little changed.

The grounds consisted of 400 acres of gardens, guest cottages, a barn and a 20 car garage.  Most of the buildings had been converted to living quarters for the Hospice Staff and their families.  Some newer buildings had been added to the landscape over the years.  But, Amelia still preferred the old house.

Upon entering her office, she noticed that the Administrative Staff had assembled at a large table on the far side of the room.  Corn cakes and soy bars were arranged nicely on platters in the center of the table.  Many Staffers chatted to invisible people via Tele-serts.  These were devices surgically fitted into the ear canal with highly sensitive microphones, much like a microscopic Blue Tooth.

When Amelia approached her chair, all conversations ceased.  She pressed a button on the arm of her chair and a holographic screen appeared between the corn cakes and soy bars.  The Director of the SWM appeared before them and said “Good Morning fellow Citizens.  Today we are going to complete our annual “Productivity Evaluations” of the residents of your facility and determine our course of action for the upcoming Spring Cleaning.  I believe I would like to hear from Donna first.”

“Good Morning fellow Citizen!” Donna responded.  “I have Citizen Joseph, age 21.  We have determined that he has sustained irreparable damage to his left knee thus rendering him unable to continue his obligation as Defensive Lineman for the New American Patriots football team.”

“Prospects for other forms of service to our Society?” the Director asked.

“Madam Citizen, we have determined that Citizen Joseph’s intelligence quotient is below that of an average Citizen.  He has been unable and/or unwilling to be educated by our Techie Team.  He does have breeding potential.  He shows no inherent weakness of the joints and the injury he sustained was as a result of an automobile accident.”

“Was the accident determined to be his fault?”

“No, Ma’am.  He was the victim of a hit-and-run while walking on the sidewalk with his former fiancée.”

“Okay.  Thank you, Donna.  Amelia, your recommendation?”

“Madam Citizen, I recommend we institute a re-entry program, place him back into society under close supervision and provide a potential mate.  We can re-evaluate him in 10 years.”

“Good enough. Do it.  Next case.  How about George.  We haven’t communicated lately.”

“Thank you, Madam Citizen.  Uhm, I have been assigned to Citizen Kathy.  She is a 65-year-old former teacher with Diabetes.  Although her sugar had been under control for many years, she seems to be erratic lately.  She regularly requires medical treatment above and beyond her daily insulin injections.”

“Citizen George, have you consulted with MedCom to determine if she is able to work in any capacity?”

“Yes, Madam Citizen.  Upon careful examination of the Citizen in question, MedCom has determined that she is unable to work in any capacity for more than 10 hours per week.  Her condition is not due to outside causes such as alcohol.  Her body just will not respond to the approved Insulin.  We do not feel that this Citizen is capable of being productive enough to warrant the Government supplying her with an alternate Insulin product at this time.”

“At this time, Citizen George?  Or ever?”

“Uhm, Madam Citizen.  Well, uhm, never…Madam Citizen.”

George hated to give the Director bad news about one of his fellow Citizens.  He felt ashamed of his job.  Many nights George would sit up with his wife, Jenna, sipping wine and talking about their respective jobs.  The reason he got the position as Special Assistant to the Administrator in the first place was due to the fact that his wife was the Primary Assistant to the Director.

He never wanted the job.  But, Jenna felt that it would work in their favor when their time came to be evaluated.  This didn’t make George feel any better about things.

Amelia had always felt that George’s evaluations were somewhat sugar-coated.  She had let him get away with it only because the Director seemed to be quite fond of his wife.  However, this time George had crossed the line.  The evaluation he had presented for Citizen Kathy could cost the Government hundreds of thousands of dollars.   She adjourned the meeting and consulted with the Director.

George left the meeting quickly.  He wanted to see Citizen Kathy before he returned to his office.  He felt as though he owed her at least that much.

As he turned the corner, he felt a presence behind him…

Amelia thought the flowers smelled so lovely.  Lilacs were her favorite.  “Hard to find this time of year”, she thought.  The River by Garth Brooks played softly in the distance as she took in the beauty of her surroundings.

“I love the old-style country songs”, said the Director as she came up behind Amelia.

“Me, too”, Amelia replied.

“It was a lovely service.  Jenna put a lot of thought and caring into it.  But, then again, she always does.”

“Yes, Madam Citizen, she is a real keeper.”

The Director winked and walked toward the grieving widow.  Amelia was certain she would not have to evaluate Jenna anytime soon…

JOHN:  Not bad.  Mmmm, what happened to your flagpole, Larry?  Could’ve sworn I saw it yesterday.

LARRY:  Yeah, got a letter from the HOA telling me to take it down.  I have it in the garage.

JOHN:  Why? What’s wrong with the stuff you had on it?  American Flag, Marine Corps flag, POW/MIA…?

LARRY:  Oh, I violated the “Neutrality Ordinance”.  I should have known better.  My fault.  I need to go to the Compliance Store today and by the New American Banner.

JOHN:  Wow.  Did you get reported or was that your first warning?

LARRY:  First one.  (Larry lowers his voice to a whisper, looking up and down the street before he continues)  The Johnson’s were warned twice!  I’m kinda worried for them, you know.

JOHN:  (also speaking in a whisper)  Larry, the Johnson’s were “relocated” last night.  I know I shouldn’t have watched, but I couldn’t help myself.  A “Cultural Ministry” van pulled up at around 2 or 3 this morning.  Man, you should have seen the shit they pulled from his house.  American flags, a framed copy of the Old Constitution…sad, really.  Linda was crying and so were the kids.   Jeff tried to console them, but I think he was just as frightened as they were.  This is getting out of hand…

LARRY:  (in a normal tone of voice)  Well, John, have a good day!  Thanks for telling me about that New History meeting tonight.  I’ll see you there.

John looked around to see a neighbor approaching.  She was Vice President of the HOA and a real “New America” cheerleader.  John despised her.

JOHN:  What?  Oh, yeah.  The meeting.  Sure.  We’ll be there.

At 2 A.M. the next morning, Larry heard the sound of a truck pulling into John’s driveway.  He lay there in silence wondering if he was wrong to email the government about their discussion the day before…

The Year – 2036

Scene – An End of Life Services Counselor comes to the home of a 65-year-old New York City firefighter who responded to Ground Zero on 9/11/2001 to discuss his medical treatment during the next 5 years.

COUNSELOR:  First of all, sir, I would like to say that your government thanks you for your service on 9/11.  We recognize the sacrifice both you and your family have made for our country.  I am here to discuss your medical treatment plan for the next 5 years.  Our goal, first and foremost, is to ensure your comfort.  Secondly, we must see to it that the cost of this treatment plan remains within the limits as provided in Section 1233 of the Happy, Healthy Americans Health Care Reform Act of 2009.

FIREFIGHTER:  Okay.  Well, uhm, I don’t think I am anywhere near the end of my life.  You know, with all the new medical techniques and treatments that are available I should be around for a long time.

COUNSELOR:  Well…you have had a few bouts of a rare cancer ever since 9/11.  And rest assured you are not the only first responder suffering at this time.  This particular cancer is bound to recur at some point during the next five years.  We have studied it very carefully.  Plus, you are 65.  To be honest, sir, the government feels that you will not be a productive citizen.  We cannot justify an expenditure of over one million dollars during the next 5 years on an individual with nothing to contribute to our society.

FIREFIGHTER:  Wait a minute!!!!  What the HELL do you want from me?  I “contributed to our society” for 30 years!  Even when I was diagnosed with cancer, I worked when I wasn’t undergoing treatments.  I have a wife and 4 kids.  6 grandchildren.  They need me!  What are you trying to say?  If the cancer comes back I just have to hold my head high and drop dead?!?!

COUNSELOR:  I wouldn’t put it quite like that, sir.  We will provide you with an attorney so that you can prepare a Will.  We will also pay for any and all pain medications you may require.  Besides, this is all hypothetical.  You have been cancer free for 3 years.  Yes, there is a high likelihood it will return.  We in the government hope this does not happen.  However, we need to prepare you for any and all possible medical emergencies.  The government wishes to make your final days comfortable and pain free.  We are looking out for the future of your family, you know.  The money saved can be used to provide medical care for them, run government farms so that they can have good food and pay union workers so that your grandchildren can have durable, government approved clothing.

FIREFIGHTER:  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I know.  Next thing you’re gonna tell me is Soylent Green isn’t people.

(The firefighter begins to laugh at his joke.  However, the Counselor seems confused and a bit annoyed.)

COUNSELOR:  Well, no sir, of course it isn’t…

A short story by

Katrina

Dew had settled on the grassy meadow, reflecting the fiery orange of morning sunlight.  An ant pushed his way between the blades in search of food.  He sensed something in the distance.  It was quite cool beneath the cover of the overgrown meadow.  The earth was very soft and difficult to traverse.  Yet, the ant kept his pace and trudged onward.

Lily had been watching the determined insect for a while now.  Occasionally she would place her finger in his path to see if he would turn back, or find a new route to his destination.

Behind her stood an old farm house badly in need of repair.  The porch had sagged almost to ground level, the shutters long gone.  Tattered curtains waved from the windows in sync with the morning breeze.  Lily heard the muffled sounds of people coming to life.

She was almost always the first to awaken.  At 12, she was considered old enough to start the cooking fire and put on coffee, when the government included it in the ration packages (or “rat packs”, as most Commons called them).   The breakfast skillet was warmed on a grate next to the coals inside of the fire ring.  Most days, breakfast included liquid eggs, veecon (a tofu product formed to resemble bacon) and soft corn tortillas.  Lily did not prepare the meal.  That chore was left to her older brother, Lyle.

“How long you been up?”, her mother asked as she walked toward the fire ring.

“Oh, about an hour or so.  The ants were in our cooler box again.”

“Damn!  Did they ruin anything?”

“Nope.  Got ‘em before they could do much harm.  Wish we could find a better spot for the food, Mom.  Why don’t we put it in the house?”

Her mother sighed and looked to the sky.  “Lily, I TOLD you if we put it inside, the ants will be INSIDE.  I don’t particularly like sleeping with ants, do you?”

“No.  I just hate fightin’ ‘em every day.  It gets to be a real pain.”  She reached into the cooler box and retrieved a glass bottle containing their weekly supply of soy milk.

Lily was not old enough to know the taste of cow’s milk.  As a matter of fact, the only cows she had ever seen were in picture books.  That might not have been so odd if she lived in a big city, but she did not.  Lily lived on her Grampa’s old dairy farm.  Thirty-five years ago it was the Number One dairy in the state.  Their milk was distributed all over the country.

Then  came the Great American Clean-up.  In Two Thousand Fifteen, the Government mandated zero-methane output nationwide.  Cows, pigs, sheep and other “ranch animals” were rounded up and sold to Canada or Mexico.  Meat products were purchased from those countries, if you could afford them.

The Clean-up ruined her Grampa financially.  The only reason they still had a house to live in was that a parcel of the dairy farm had been paid off long ago and her Grampa had never borrowed against it.  He was “asked” to do the Patriotic thing and donate the balance of his land to the “Corn Co-Operative”.

Fossil fuels were available only to the Protectors, Techies or the Government.  The traditional Military had been dismantled in Twenty-twenty and replaced with an organization consisting of former members of some of the larger private security firms.  The borders were policed remotely via monitors, only a few actual Protectors were needed to respond to escape alerts put out by the Techies.  America no longer sent troops to foreign lands.  The largest national security issue was citizens who wanted to leave without special permission or a work Visa.

Windmills crowded the landscapes from Coast to Coast.  Solar panels popped up like ugly dandelions.  Television and radio were obsolete, as were laptops and PC’s.  All communication was regulated by the Fairness Commission and transmitted via cell phones.  Every citizen was issued a phone when they turned 5-years-old.  It was to be carried with you at all times.

Lily did not attend school.  She had Vid-Ed for 4 hours every day.  The Education Commission had been nationalized and all children received the same education in every part of the country.

Lyle called the family to breakfast and they gathered around the picnic table to eat.  This was Lily’s favorite time of day.  Sometimes, Grampa would tell stories of the days when he would attend automobile races with his father.  Or when he went to a place called Iraq so that America could be safe.  He spoke of the 50 states that made up his country.  Alaska had long since become a nation unto itself, and Hawaii had been lost to North Korea in Twenty-Ten.

Three other states – Michigan, Maine and Washington – had been traded to Canada for gold.  California became a part of Mexico in a deal with the Mexican Government that was never clearly explained.  “No one cared”, said Grampa.  “They were a pain in the ass anyway.”

“Good Lord, Dad!” said Lily’s mom.  Suddenly, a large hand clamped over her mouth.  It was Lily’s father.  He held his wife close and whispered in her ear, “Do you want to go to jail, Susan?”

He loosened his grip and Susan took a deep breath.  “It just comes out sometimes.  I mean, it’s just a saying.  I wasn’t, you know, praying or anything.”

“We don’t want to take any chances, Susan.  So far, we have been left alone.  I don’t want to risk that.”  He reached for her and held her tightly.  “I’m sorry.  I love you.”

Soon, it was time for Vid-Ed to begin.  Lily’s father, grandfather and brother left to work in the Corn Co-Op.  Their hybrid hummed as it went down the dirt road and disappeared into the horizon.  Her mother retrieved some water from the rain catcher and began to clean the breakfast dishes.

Lily moved to her makeshift desk on the far end of the porch and turned on her phone.  Class began with a salute to the New America as a circular sunrise over a red, white and blue horizon appeared on the screen…