Friday, October 27, 2017

States of Change: Chapter 16: Volunteer

States of Change is an ongoing work of serial fiction.The speculative story-line seeks to inspire thought on ethics,culture and our planet's future.Comment as your illusion of free will permits,
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"Who can say? I mean it's been decades since the states broke up. What purpose does conjecturing otherwise serve? Here, Dorian, give me a hand getting this off trail."

Taking care to bend at his knees, Dorian mirrored Carahtina's motions as they lifted the poplar limb.

"One and two and three," they singsonged as they swung-launched the limb into the ferny brush.

Appalachian Trail maintenance was a monthly routine for the pair. The Tennessee Code required each citizen to put in four volunteer hours per week offnet, and both enjoyed the outdoors while doing it.

"Speculation can serve as a thought experiment, don't you think? Whether utopian or dystopian,  imagining what might have been could wake us up to how we might do things better in the future."

Taking a breather Caratinah pulled out her water reserve. After a couple swallows she shook her head with a smirk..

"I'm a realist, Dorian. Have you scanned the latest Economista Principal? It rated the Tennessee nation as one of the top ten global communities to live in with health and happiness scores land in the 99th percentile. I'd say as a state we're doing pretty darn well."

"Did you run the references through the SnoCheq?"

She laughed. "No need. I've been around long enough to see the proof of what decades of hard work have done to create our great Tennessee society. Can you disagree? We've attained a solid balance of prosperity and culture here."

"I'm not complaining, just wondering if America might have gone to Mars, rather than the Eastern Union."

"You and your space exploration dreams. State dollars are much better spent solving social issues here on planet Earth."

"You mean planet Tennessee."

"Funny. Well speculate this. How would life be for you as an atheist if Carolinian law had kept Oosa together?"

"Point taken....though honestly I don't think your liberal Christian values would fare much better under their tribal laws."

"Yeah, well in the end I think we're much better off without another layer of fickle federal restrictions."

"Said like a true patriot. You have to admit even if the Economista stats factcheck out, isolationist policy has its drawbacks."

"One woman's isolation is another's self sufficiency. C'mon let's get the last of these branches into the mulch berm. There's a beer waiting for us in Turtletown."

Having deposited their last armfuls of severed branches in the berm they headed back to the trailhead.  Carahtina glanced back at the carbon-fiber border fence just beyond the berm. The double-helix razor wire was silent. Her thoughts on what might lay beyond in Georgia were not.



"

Friday, October 13, 2017

States of Change: Chapter 15 Bluegrass


*States of Change is an ongoing work of serial fiction.The speculative story-line seeks to inspire thought on ethics,culture and our planet's future.Comment as your illusion of free will permits,publishing agents in particular!**



I sit on the edge of my chair.

In front of me, the football game has just entered the third quarter. The Emperor Suite's vista window gives me a great vantage to watch. The klieg ellee-dees turn the bluegrass field into a fluorescent exaggeration of daytime. East Kentucky leads West by six points and 125,557 spectators are howling, some with anger, some with fervor, and some just because it's a football game.

I pause to consider.  For some football is a religion. Me, I remain agnostic on the whole religion thing; if there is a higher power and purpose in life it hasn't shown itself to me. Still, I have had a pretty darn good life. My parents loved me and encouraged me to pursue a life that made a difference. My studies enabled me to build a lucrative data resale chain, one of a handful permitted to operate across state borders. My family and friends have brought good times and bad, but mostly good, so I smile.

Behind me the door to the suite has been welded shut on three edges. Five freshly printed Frontier Railers lie precisely on the oversize king bed. Per my range trials each assault rifle should operate reliably for five minutes before overheat begins to set in. At a a thousand rounds a minute that should allow me to get off 25,000 rounds before I'll need to rotate back to the first rail-gun.

The why of the moment is unclear. Because I miss my wife Janesse, ten years dead? Because our kids Lance and Fridae defected to New York to escape the libertarian landscape? Or perhaps on a less personal level it's because humans need a predator to keep them in check and on their toes? Or maybe it's like that old yarn about the mountain and it just being there, waiting. In the end, who can tell.

I see West has scored, tying the game with just under four minutes to go. I rise. Putting my palm to the window I can feel the acoustic fervor of the crowd reverberating in unintentional unity. I inhale deeply and exhale and take a final swallow of my sweet tea.

It is time to make an impact on the state of things.