"There are many worlds wrapped up inside our world. Some are beautiful, some are ugly. Some are active, some are benign. No one world is full without the others. No one person has a clear mind without the other worlds taking their respective seats.
"In one world there was a group of three men, white men — one speaker, and two henchmen — in the American South of the late 1950s. 'The black man,' said the speaker into his microphone, 'has robbed us with his friends on Capitol Hill of our moral and economic integrity. Now he wants more. The sacred distinction between the two races is now threatened. White man will soon drink from the same water fountains as black man. White children and black children will be educated in the same schools. Was it not enough that we provided for them all the necessities they asked for? Why then, now, do they insist on the same necessities as the white man? Why does the black man insist on imposing himself on the property, institutions, and sacred spaces of the white man? For that is exactly how we view it, as an imposition.'
"A black man, overhearing this, became angry. With others watching, he picked up a box, set it at his feet, stood on it, and began to speak. 'Be that as it may,' he began, 'I feel no pang of conscience against the actions of my race. The only thing I ask is to see it from my perspective.' All eyes were on him now, silently. 'The European-American white man of the modern age knows little of the woe of slavery. But for the black man, the wretched, poisonous weed of slavery creeps into our lives even as it dies, for no one can honestly say your "sacredness", your "spaces", were not fruit of that weed. Around the mind of every black man, and every white man too, but especially every black man, the evil vine coils itself, and our actions all too often reflect it. And that, my friends and fellow Americans, that, can be called an imposition.'
"'Were your masters not kind to your kin?' Said the white man.
"'Some of them were, some of the time,' responded the black man. 'But not so kind as our nation was to them. And none of them could honestly say the full glory of a free life was afforded to us. There was only dominance and subordination. And from that seed was reaped all of the intolerance, all of the hatred, all of the violence that my race has had to suffer. Speak not of your moral sanctity until it has ceased to be divided against your brothers of another color. For it has been said, "A house divided against itself cannot stand."'
"At this, the white men exchanged glances. 'He's using reason and logic,' one of them said, 'what more can we do?'
"Such is the nature of some of the worlds our world possesses. It may not be your world, per se. Your world may be sunken into the swamp. But a savior has come to your world, and my world too. Is it not wonderful then that the stairway to heaven begins so low in the muck?" The young man said in Nancy's dream. "Now, wake up!"
Nancy woke up. She looked at her clock: six to seven. Her loyalty quiz would begin at seven thirty. The alarm was set at seven. Nancy got up, turning off the alarm, and got dressed.
"Fire in the desert! Fire in the desert!" Her mother said from the other room. She must've still been asleep — her mother often said that in her sleep. It was some kind of reoccurring dream of hers, although she never remembered her dreams.
Nancy ate breakfast, brushed her teeth, then walked down the street towards the police station. The trees were in sharp relief; their bark seemed black. To Nancy, it seemed the trees were gasping, subdued, full of repressed anger. No, not anger — muted gruffness. They were a chorus of garbage-men, saying, "What are ya gonna do?"
Nancy saw the police station, went inside. She took her seat in the waiting room, looking at the clock.
After a while, the other woman who was there before her, taking her loyalty quiz, walked passed Nancy and left the building. "Nancy Gretcham," said a police officer. Nancy got up, walked into the small room, sat down. The two inquisitors prepared their things behind a pane of bulletproof glass — two notebooks, two pens, two cups of coffee. The man on the right adjusted his microphone.
"Who is the president of the United States?" said the man on the right, as though he had said this a thousand times.
"George W. Bush," Nancy said.
"Who decided he would be president?"
"I did," Nancy said.
"How would you describe your thoughts about the United States government?"
"Loyal to the end," Nancy said.
"What is the official religion of the United States?"
"Christianity," Nancy said.
"Are you a Christian?"
"Yes," Nancy said.
"Have your family said anything in the past week that was disloyal, subversive, seditious, or disruptive to the social order?"
"No," Nancy said.
"Have you said anything in the past week that was disloyal, subversive, seditious, or disruptive to the social order?"
"No," Nancy repeated.
"Have your friends said anything in the past week that was disloyal, subversive, seditious, or disruptive to the social order?"
"No," Nancy said again.
"What is your favorite color?"
"Purple," Nancy said.
"What is your favorite kind of food?"
"McMann's TV dinner," Nancy said.
"Okay. You're done."
Nancy got up and left.
* * *
May Lynn was crying in her room. She couldn't believe she'd done it. It was over a year ago, and they still hadn't found her. But she knew they were coming. They were coming. They were always coming for someone, somewhere. One night it would be her. (She had posted a "Free Tibet: End Capitalism" poster in her college dorm.) She wanted to free Tibet. She didn't particularly care about capitalism, but she couldn't find a poster that said just "Free Tibet." The next day at her loyalty test, they asked her, "Do you believe in and support the capitalist system?" They never asked that. Could they tell she started at the question? Do polygrams pick up that kind of thing? Did they even have polygrams hooked up to her microphone?
All she knew is that her boyfriend of six weeks told her they were going to come after her. They knew she'd done it, he'd said. He was a police officer. Suddenly, she realized he didn't say exactly what they knew she did. Did they really know? Was this just a test? Her boyfriend was coming over that night to spirit her away to Toronto. Maybe she'd make it. Maybe Canada would be a afford her a better life. She'd seen the website ranking the freedom of countries: Canada was up there, next to Japan and The Netherlands.
Then came the knock on the door. "It's me," said Eric, her boyfriend. May Lynn got up quickly and opened the door.
"Are they really after me? What have I done?" She said.
"I don't know, babe, all I know is they're after you. I didn't hear everything. C'mon, let's go."
May Lynn followed Eric out of her apartment and into his car. Just as Eric started the car, they saw the police van enter the parking lot. "Shit," said Eric. "Get down."
May Lynn crouched down into her seat. The car meandered this way and that. She knew Eric was driving extra careful. Would they notice it was his car? Would they know?
The car pulled forward, turned left, then sped up. They were out of the parking lot. "We're safe," Eric said. May Lynn sat up trepidaciously.
They drove down 10th street, then onto the freeway. It was raining. The lights of the city were glowing and the sun was setting. Nestled beneath a couple advertising billboards she saw an old movie house; it was playing "Parliamentary Government," the new movie by Martin Scorsese. She liked Martin Scorsese. She knew he was a liberal, and the current president was a conservative. Perhaps in Canada they didn't make such a big deal over it. May Lynn felt less fearful now; she was able to push the fear to the back of her mind. She would be okay. She was going to Canada.
"We have to stop by the state carnival. We have to get your passport and visas, and I want to talk to my grandpa," Eric said. May Lynn shut her eyes and let the rain wash over the car.
It was nighttime now. At the carnival the people were meandering this way and that, some angry, some trying to have a good time. The angry ones were angry over little things. Always little things. May Lynn walked past the jugglers, the clowns, the tents where you could win a prize if you played the game. The whole thing had an ominous feel to it. Maybe it was just that they were required to check in at the police tent. Eric assured her that they wouldn't notice her absence, but she wasn't sure.
Eric led May Lynn to a dark place between the rides and the games. "Okay, wait here," he said. "I'll be back with our passports and visas. Okay?"
"Okay," May Lynn said. Then Eric left.
May Lynn saw a teenage girl walk past her. She wasn't like the others; she wasn't angry, and although she didn't look like she was having a good time, she wasn't trying to either. Somewhere, hidden inside her, was a form of contentment. May Lynn had never seen the girl before. (It was Nancy.)
An hour or so later, Eric returned with the passports and visas. "Okay, let's go," he said.
The drive on the freeway was long. Countless lights emerged and zipped past on the black highway. Each moment was one moment less before May Lynn would be in Canada. Would the passports work? The visas?
"Eric, do you love me?" May Lynn asked.
"Of course I love you."
"You've only known me for six weeks. How can you love me? How can you love me enough to get me out of the country?"
Eric sighed. "I love you because you give me hope. You have spirit, May."
"I do?"
"Yes. You give me the confidence to believe I can take on the politicians, the bad cops, the whole world. I can take it on because of you, baby."
This gave May Lynn a good feeling in her gut. She leaned over and kissed Eric on the cheek, then smiled. Suddenly, she could feel Nancy looking at her, but she couldn't read her expression — which troubled her. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
"Here we are," Eric said.
May Lynn opened her eyes. The customs office came into view as the car slowed to a stop.
* * *
"Nancy, take a guess: how much does it cost to get an MRI in Venezuela?" Nancy's friend Jim asked.
"I don't know," said Nancy.
"Twenty-five bucks. You know why? Because Venezuela is a socialist country. Now you can't tell me that capitalism works better than socialism."
"No, I'm not sure I can," Nancy said. Nancy turned to the television. Some protestant minister was speaking. "The Pope would like to tell us that we live in a spiritual desert. He wants to criticize America, saying we are not all that righteous. I say this is blasphemy and a sin. No Catholic should go without being told this truth, that the leader of his church is a blasphemous sinner. What right does he have to say we have lost our morality?" We haven't lost our morality, Nancy thought. We just never had very much to begin with.
"You know what I heard, Jim," said Nancy's other friend, Kim.
"What?" said Jim.
"You know all the problems we're having with the president of Pakistan? I heard the United States put him in power in the first place," said Kim.
"Yep, that's what I heard too," Jim said.
"So who are you going to vote for?" Nancy asked.
"Hillary Clinton," Jim said.
"Really? You seem like more of a Barack Obama kind of guy to me," Nancy said.
"Nope," Jim said. "I can't stand third-party candidates. They think they can get enough votes to mean something, but all they really do is take away votes from the real candidates."
"Hmm," Nancy said. "So what happened to John, anyway? I haven't heard from him since last June."
"Yeah, I lost contact with him too, after his coming-of-age ceremony in Boston. Donno what happened with him."
"And so I say, cast the sinners out of our lot. Let our nation be only a nation of the righteous," said the man on the television. "Any Catholic should be thought of as just as dangerous as the terrorist organization the Revolutionary Front, which even now threatens our national security within our very borders."
"You're coming-of-age ceremony is coming up this week, right Nancy?" Jim said.
"Yep," Nancy said. "Tonight actually. Can't tell you where it will be, of course."
"But we know it will be here, right?" Kim said.
"Yep, I won't be leaving the city," Nancy replied.
"You're lucky," Kim said. "My coming-of-age ceremony will be next year, so we don't know where it will be yet, but it'll probably be somewhere far away. I wonder what it will be like..."
"Well, we'll just have to see," Nancy said. Nancy looked at the TV and sighed. She turned it off. "I think my mother is going to want you guys to go home soon," she said.
"Okay Nance, see you later," Kim said.
"Bye, Nancy," Jim said. The two left. Sighing again, Nancy got up and began getting ready for bed. I wonder what kind of person I am today, she thought, looking in the mirror.
Laying in bed, Nancy thought of her coming-of-age ceremony. It was strange that nobody could tell her the details of what it would be like. Even her parents refused to comment. All she knew was that it was at midnight tonight. "Fire in the desert!" her mother said, from the other room. Nancy shut her eyes and tried to sleep.
The alarm woke her up — it was a quarter till. Nancy turned it off, slowly got out of bed. Her parents had already left — she was to meet them at West 10th street.
The chill of the night crept beneath Nancy's jacket as she walked towards West 10th. She reached the street, and took a right. Walking between the two rows of dark trees, she passed one of the police phones that were on every block. Finally, she came to a statue. Behind the trees on either side were two five-story brick buildings. She was all alone — no sign of anyone. She looked up at the statue: a man with a musket wearing a cowboy hat, holding a flag. There were no stars nor stripes. Written on the flag in big red letters were the words, "our flag." Nancy stood there, staring at the flag, waiting. She didn't know, but a sniper was peering at her through the scope of his rifle... waiting.
* * *
Okay, this is it, thought May Lynn. The customs agents were looking over her passport and visa. May Lynn held her breath.
"Breathe, May," Eric said.
The customs agent came back to the car. "Okay, you're good to go," he said. May Lynn wanted to faint.
"Thank you," Eric said, then they began driving again.
A few minutes later and they were driving through Toronto. "What am I going to do now?" May Lynn asked.
"I hear there's a anti-U.S. movement in Canada looking for lecturers. I'm sure you'd do well with them if you talked about your experiences," Eric said.
"You really think so?" asked May Lynn.
"Sure. That's why I said it, right babe?" The city lights glistened like stars.
* * *
Nancy thought that the coming-of-age ceremony last night was a success. It was simple, yet effective. Her parents had handed her a "certificate of responsible citizenship." Then they ate dinner, and then they went home. Thinking about it now, the following day, she felt good about herself. Why do I feel good about myself? she thought. It's just a stupid ceremony. Doesn't mean anything. Oh well, if I feel good, why argue with it?
Nancy sank back into the couch at her house. School would begin tomorrow. Maybe her friends would come over again today. She would like that. Just then, the phone rang. "I'll get it," yelled Nancy.
"Hello?" she said into the receiver.
"Hi Nance!" It was Kim. "I want you to come over to my house. There's someone I'd like you to meet. His name is Devin."
"Okay, I'll be there in a few. Bye."
"See ya, Nancy!"
Nancy hung up the receiver. "I'm going to Kim's house, mom," Nancy yelled. "Okay," came the response from the other room.
Nancy hurried over towards Kim's house. She wondered what this Devin was like, but mostly she just wanted to see Kim. She heard footsteps following her. She turned around to see a man in torn jeans and a ratty t-shirt. She didn't like the way he was looking at her. He was walking more quickly now. She tried not to look at him. Suddenly, the man broke into a run. Nancy began to run too. The man caught up with her, grabbed her arm. "Hello, pleasure of the moment," he said.
Nancy twisted her arm and broke free. She ran to one of the police phones that were on every block, picked up the receiver. "Police," said the man in the receiver. "Help," Nancy said, "a man in jeans and a grey, torn-up t-shirt is trying to grab me. I think he's trying to rape me."
"Can you describe him in any more detail?"
"He has brown hair, brown eyes. He's about 5 foot 10 I think." The man turned around and ran off. "He just ran off, towards Alder street," Nancy said.
"We'll send a police car right away," said the man on the phone. This is the second time this year that this has happened, Nancy thought. She hung up the receiver of the police phone, one of the ones that were on every block.
Nancy reached Kim's house. She knocked on the door. Kim answered, which was strange because usually Kim's mother liked to answer the door.
"Hey Nance!" Kim said.
"Hey, Kim. Where's your mother?"
"Oh, she's at a Tupperware party at one of her friends' house. Devin, come here a second." Devin came from the other room. He was tall — long legs. He walked like a cat. Nancy thought he was very handsome. "Devin, this is my friend Nancy. Nancy, Devin."
"Nice to meet you," Devin said.
"Same here," Nancy said.
Nancy, Devin, and Kim sat down in the living room. They talked politics, as usual. Devin seemed to know his stuff. Nancy became quite taken with him. After a while, Kim left to get some snacks, although Nancy knew she just left to give her and Devin some time alone. Devin moved closer to Nancy.
"So you like politics, huh?" Devin said.
"I like talking about politics," Nancy said. "I'm not too involved in them, unfortunately."
"You know the media says that Barack Obama is an elitist. John McCain — he's the man of the people. But John McCain is married to the heiress to the Hensley liquor fortune."
"That's true," Nancy said.
"Barack Obama only just recently paid off his student loans. And he's the elitist."
"Yeah, that's a good one," Nancy said, laughing.
"You know, the media in this country is just appalling. They never report the whole facts. They're just propaganda for the lowest common denominator."
"Fox News is certainly propaganda," Nancy said.
"Oh, the others are just as bad. The sate of the news media in this country has been deplorable ever since PBS went bankrupt in the '80s."
"Oh, I agree. Deplorable." Nancy smiled at Devin.
"Can I tell you a little secret?"
"Sure."
"What if I told you there was hope in the world?"
"I might be inclined to believe it, Devin. So what's your secret?"
"Well, I belong to a secret organization."
"Go on..." Nancy said. Interesting, she thought, a taste of danger.
"You may have heard of us. We're called the Revolutionary Front."
Nancy stiffened. A terrorist organization was the last thing she wanted to be a part of. She gave Devin a cold look.
"I thought I'd mention it, since I thought you seemed like a person who opposed injustice."
Nancy turned away in fear and disgust. She stood up and walked to the other side of the room.
"We may have been labeled 'terrorist,'" Devin continued, "but we fight injustice."
"I can't believe you. You think killing people is the way to fight injustice?"
"We have to do something to make these people listen! If we didn't kill people, nobody would listen. There'd be no hope. Surely you must see that."
"You fool!" Nancy shouted. "There is no hope!"
She stormed out of the house and slammed the door. Devin said to himself, "Then why are you still alive?"
I can't believe it, Nancy thought. How could Kim set me up like this? What was she thinking? Oh my God, I can't believe I almost fell for that terrorist. What if the government knew I was attracted to revolutionaries? What would I do?
Nancy walked up to her house, opened the door. Her mother was standing in the living room, sorting the mail. "You look upset, honey," her mother said. "Is something wrong?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Nancy said.
"Some mail just came for you. It's from the government."
Nancy's mother handed Nancy the letter. Nancy sat down on the couch. She brooded over the post-card sized envelope — "U.S. Department of State" was printed on it. She didn't want to open it yet.
"Bills, bills," her mother said, leaving the room. "Always more bills."
Nancy opened the letter. It contained a white piece of card stock, and two photos. The first photo was of her, at her coming-of-age ceremony. The second photo was of a sniper, pointing his rifle at her, at the same ceremony. A chill went up Nancy's spine. She looked at the card stock. There was a hologram on it. Underneath the hologram read, "Authentic invitation." Nancy turned the card over. The other side read in black ink, "You are invited to the Take Me Away government-sponsored tournament. If you wish to decline, please report yourself to the nearest police station immediately. If you accept, report yourself within the next hour to the district tournament office located at: 519 S. August St."
"Mother," Nancy shouted. "I need to go to 519 August."
"What for?" her mother shouted back.
"I've been invited to the Take Me Away tournament."
Nancy thought about the letter during the 45-minute drive to August street. She'd heard of this "Take Me Away" tournament. It was all over the internet. From what she had seen, they would ask her difficult questions, and based on her answers, she would either be eliminated from the tournament or, if she answered them better than everyone else, she would win a free passport and immigration documents to any country of her choice. What she didn't know until now was that it was run by the government.
They drove past the residential areas into the downtown area. The skyscrapers thrust into the sky, reflecting the clouds. A stoplight turned red just as they were trying to drive through it. "Damn it," Nancy's mother said, slamming on the breaks. "The Take Me Away tournament huh?" Nancy's mother said, "I never was invited. I must have raised a pretty smart girl." The light turned green.
They drove down two blocks, and took a right. 519 August was a short, concrete building nestled between two large skyscrapers. "I'll call you when it's over," Nancy said, leaving the car. "Good luck," said her mother.
Nancy entered the building into a well-lit room with high windows. A sign said, "waiting room next left." Nancy entered the waiting room. It was a fluorescent-lit room with airport or bus-station style seats. Nancy took her seat next to a young man with black hair. He looked at her, reading her face. "Hi," he said. "My name's Alex."
"Nancy," Nancy said. "I wonder when we're going to start."
"I'm sure we'll start soon. I'd bet you know the program, am I right?"
"Yes, I think. We get asked these questions, and our answers determine if we get to leave the country."
"So, have you heard of this college girl, May Lynn Peters?"
"No."
"She left the U.S. and just started making the lecture circuit in Canada, speaking out against our government. From what I've heard, she's pretty knowledgeable. What do you think of her?"
"I don't know. It's good to speak out against injustice, but shouldn't she do it in this country?"
"She can't. That's the point. My question is, do you support what she does?"
"Well she should pick her battles. If her battles are hopeless, she shouldn't fight them."
"Interesting. I was testing you — she's going to be deported back to the United States."
"Hmm," Nancy said. Why does this guy feel he has to test me? Nancy thought.
"I hope we can be friends," Alex said. "You seem to have an interesting mind."
"Why couldn't we be friends?" Nancy asked.
"Well, we are competing against each other. And I'm gonna win."
Nancy laughed. "What makes you think you're going to win?"
Alex's face darkened. "I have to win," he said. Nancy turned away from him. "Listen," he said. "Give me your address, and I'll write to you."
"You want to be pen pals?"
"Sure."
Alex pulled out a memo pad and a pencil, handing them to Nancy. She took them and wrote down her address.
A man in a button-up shirt entered the room. He introduced himself and the tournament. Then he said, "Okay, now let's begin. The first contestants are, Wendy Carlson, Luke Havergail, Nancy Gretcham, Aaron Kyle, Alex Foreman. Please line up at the door to your right. If you are eliminated, please exit quickly and quietly through the same door. Any deliberate disturbance will not go unchecked." Nancy got up with Alex and lined up at the door. "Okay, Wendy Carlson goes first, then Aaron Kyle, then Nancy Gretcham, then Luke Havergail, then Alex Foreman," the man said. They lined up. The man looked at his watch, waiting for the right moment. "Alright, let's go," he said, finally, opening the door.
They all went through the door into what appeared to be a low-budget studio, while the man in the button-up shirt stayed in the previous room. There were five booths set up, with red buzzer buttons. There were two cameras — small hand-held camcorders on tripods. The contestants all stood in front of their booths. In the left corner of the room was a podium. Standing behind the podium was a man in a black suit.
"Glad to have you here today," said the man in the suit. "Are all the contestants ready?"
All the contestants nodded "yes."
"Okay, good. Here's how this will go. I ask the questions, and whoever buzzes first, answers them. If the answer contains a logical fallacy, the contestant is eliminated. I reserve the right to question the contestant. After the line of questioning is finished, or if the contestant is eliminated, the others may buzz in and either add to what was said, or make a new point. The more correct statements a contestant makes, the more points he or she gets. Okay, first question. Who decides what freedom is?"
The buzzer sounded. Wendy Carlson spoke, "The government does."
"Why?" asked the man in the suit.
"The government is chosen by the people, and the people tell it what freedom is."
"Elimination — contradiction. Either the government decides, or the people decide. The others may now buzz in. Who decides what freedom is?"
Nancy watched Wendy leave dejectedly through the door on the right. Nancy buzzed in.
"God decides what freedom is, like it says in the Declaration of Independence," Nancy said.
"Please explain what you mean by 'God,'" said the man in the suit.
"God is partly the conscience, and partly reality, and all truth," Nancy said, slowly. "Freedom is good and a goal in itself, as expressed by the conscience, reality, and truth."
"I'm going to accept that," said the man in the suit. "Any comments?"
Alex buzzed in. "What is called truth depends on experience, and so nobody knows what it is, exactly." Alex caught himself. "Meaning... nobody knows for sure. Since there is no definitive reference to truth in anybody's experience, this makes it lie in the realm of God."
"That's a point," said the man in the suit. Alex buzzed in again.
"Freedom is a truth only because it is a life free from tensions, or maladies, and tensions and maladies contradict what people want. Any contradiction cannot be true."
"Another point for Alex," said the man in the suit. "Any more points? No? Okay, next question. Benjamin Franklin said, 'The man who trades freedom for security does not deserve nor will he ever receive either.' America has a great deal of security, thanks to our armed forces and police. Do Americans deserve freedom, security, or neither?"
Aaron Kyle buzzed in. "Americans deserve freedom," he said.
"Why?" said the man in the suit.
"Because we've decided that freedom is truth."
"Elimination — deference to authority."
Alex buzzed in. "Freedom is security, security is freedom. There is no difference between freedom and security. They're both truth, so Americans deserve both," he said.
"That's a point," said the man in the suit.
Alex buzzed in again. "Benjamin Franklin meant, or could have meant, that he observed freedom to be security. Therefore giving up one for the other is a contradiction, and a falsehood."
"That's another point," said the man in the suit. Alex buzzed in again. "Wow, the young man is on a role. Go ahead."
"To give up freedom for security, being a contradiction, you must actually adopt a falsehood, which cannot be a part of truth. Since freedom and security are both truths, when someone adopts a falsehood, it can be neither freedom nor security. That's why Ben Franklin said if you give up freedom for security, you deserve neither," Alex said.
"That's another point," said the man in the suit. Just wait until they adopt bizzare, metaphysical givens, the man thought. Then it will really get cut-throat. "Any further comment?"
Nancy buzzed in. "And yet, freedom is not security, because one can choose to have temporary security that eats away at freedom," she said.
"Elimination — contradiction of a given. Any further comments?" said the man in the suit.
Nancy jumped at this. Downhearted, she left the room. Oh well, she thought, at least now this guy Alex can have his chance. I guess I wasn't meant to leave the country after all. Nancy spotted the man in the button-up shirt, and walked up to him. "Can you tell me where a phone is? I need to call my mother," Nancy said.
The man looked at her, then handed her another envelope. She opened it. It read: "Well done, you have advanced to the rank of special commander of the Revolutionary Front." Nancy stiffened. She was worried about being the girlfriend of a terrorist, now she was a terrorist. This must be some kind of joke, she thought.
"Follow me," said the man, getting up and opening the door on the left. Nancy didn't move. "No?" said the man. She looked to the other contestants in the room. Some of them were pointing at her, talking quietly to one another. The man pressed a button behind the door frame. Two men in black suits came to the door. "Okay," Nancy said. She walking to the door.
Nancy walked up some stairs onto the roof. A helicopter arrived. She got in. They flew west, by the looks of it. Clouds covered the sky. The helicopter glided over the land, well out into the country, towards the Appalachian Mountains. Wild trees pushed up towards them. They set down in the forest near a cave. The man gave Nancy a flashlight, and gestured for her to go in. Nancy turned on the flashlight and walked deep into the cave. It was dark, dank, frightening. She began to hear voices. Finally, she came across a group of people in a large, roomy part of the cave. Some were standing, pacing, some were sitting in the dirt. On one end of the room was two small televisions. Two men with guns walked up to her. They pointed their guns at her. "What's your name?" asked the man on the left.
"Nancy Gretcham," Nancy stuttered.
The man on the left pulled a picture out of his pocket, then looked her over. "God, they're getting younger every year. So you're our new unit commander, right?"
"Yes," Nancy said, "that's what I was told."
"You'll have to forgive the humble settings. Our last unit headquarters was raided by the FBI last night."
"So," Nancy started, "Tell me what I have to do."
"In about five hours, we will be getting a report from the field. Unit 5A is going to make an attack in Chicago. Don't worry about the names of the units, you'll get to know them soon enough."
"Why am I even a commander?" Nancy said. "I have no experience. I've never used a gun in my life. I have no idea how the Revolutionary Front even works."
The two men looked at each other, then back at Nancy. "Well the system is pretty decentralized," said the one on the right. "Sometimes it's an asset not to know what's going on."
"And it's very democratic too," said the man on the left. "You'll see."
"Have a seat," said the man on the right. "Make yourself at home."
Nancy sat down in the dirt. She looked at the television. They read "Input 1" in green letters.
Nancy could hardly bear the waiting. She got more nervous by the second, as the minutes slowly ticked by towards the end of the five hours. She looked around at the people in the cave. There was one man sitting at a computer, another man reading a book. The people in the cave talked about various things: about some of the battles they had commanded, about Nancy, about previous commanders, about the FBI raids. What if the FBI raids this cave right now? Nancy thought. She certainly wouldn't have been surprised. But scared, very scared. The five hours must almost be up by now, she thought. After a few unbearable moments, the two men with the guns got up and walked up to her. Nancy stood up.
"Okay," said the man on the left. "We're almost ready to begin. Now all the people in this cave are rank and file of the Revolutionary Front. They will deliberate on the next course of action. But the most important thing to remember is that the buck stops with you. You have the final say. Okay?"
Nancy nodded, clutching her flashlight.
"We're getting a feed now from the two men in the field," said the man at the computer. The televisions flickered to life. On each television was a POV of someone walking down a sidewalk in Chicago. Nancy felt tingly all over her body, sick to her stomach, and cold in her hands and feet. The men on the screens stepped into crowds of people then stood still. Nancy bit her lip. Suddenly, the man in the right-hand screen turned. Police officers in blue uniforms ran towards the man. The man in the left-hand screen began pushing people out of the way. Soon, we saw police officers running towards him as well. Nancy was slightly relieved. Perhaps nobody would get killed.
"No!" shouted one of the men in the cave, the ear-piercing word reverberating throughout the cave. Then the loud sound of heated conversation flared up. Everyone had something to say, looking at Nancy for support.
"We have three more units in the field. We have to do an emergency backup plan."
"Two of those units were raided. What can we do with just one unit?"
"We have another unit in the west side. Let's use him."
"No, we can't use him, he isn't trained."
"We need to intensify our training courses, right Nancy?"
"Our training courses mean nothing. We need to tighten up security, right Nancy?"
"Whatever we do, we need to take action now. I have the coordinates of these two units, and we can form a plan of action. Nancy. Nancy. Look at the coordinates."
People began pushing up towards Nancy. The two men with guns pushed through the crowd and stood by Nancy. Nancy backed towards the exit.
"You two," she said to the men with guns, "I can't think with guns around. Put your guns down on the other side of the room please."
The two men looked at each other, then obeyed. Nancy felt like she was on fire — with anger and with fear. I can't do this, Nancy thought. I can't do this. Nancy imagined Devin saying, "This is your chance. Make them listen. Make them listen."
"Please back away," Nancy shouted.
"We need orders! Just tell us to use the units!"
"Don't tell them to use the units, tell them to regroup! We have to regroup!"
Nancy turned and bolted down the cave towards the exit. She was so afraid she felt her legs would give in. She imagined the two men with guns — they had to be coming after her. The light of day streamed into the cave from the entrance. The dank air of the cave gave way to the fresh, clean air of the forest. Nancy fell to her knees. She heard the beating of helicopter blades. She looked around and saw four military helicopters coming towards the cave. They set down right next to her. Armed military men streamed out of the helicopters and ran towards her. She stood up.
"I didn't do anything! I didn't order anyone killed!" she yelled, her voice drowned out by the helicopters.
One of the military men was shouting at her. She read his lips, "put your hands behind your head," was what she thought he said. She put her hands behind her head. Two military men grabbed her arms and led her out into the woods. All the other military men ran into the cave. Slowly, the helicopter sounds faded away. What are they going to do, are they going to shoot me? Nancy thought.
They got to an open space. One of the military men spoke into his walkie-talkie. "We're at the specified area," he said. "Further orders?"
"Wait there," said the man over the walkie-talkie. Nancy waited. She closed her eyes. A gust of wind rustled in the trees. She could hear birds chirping.
Then, the sound of another helicopter. It grew louder and louder. Nancy opened her eyes. The helicopter was black, not military. It set down in the open space before her. The door opened. The military men led Nancy to the helicopter. She got in. Inside was the man in the button-up shirt from the Take Me Away tournament. Nancy put her face in her hands. What now? she thought.
The helicopter set down on the roof of the Take Me Away building. The man in the button-up shirt led Nancy out of the helicopter and down the stairs. At the foot of the stairs, before opening the door into the waiting room, the man in the button-up shirt gave her a cell phone. Nancy quickly dialed her mom's phone number.
"Hi mom, I'm done. Could you pick me up please?"
The man handed Nancy another envelope. Nancy looked at the man, then opened it. Inside was one picture — a picture of a security camera.
* * *
May Lynn looked into the dark audience, blinded by the lights.
"Sure, you can still leave the country. If you're lucky, you may get citizenship in another country. But American citizens still have to pay taxes, even when they're living abroad. Did you know that America is the only country which does that? Americans think they have freedom, but it's a joke. They think their votes count, but they don't. America is locked in a two-party system, and the presidential campaign relies so much on money that only people with big, corporate donors stand a chance. Besides that, we already know that George Bush stole the election in 2004. Want to talk about congress? They're slaves to the lobbyists.
"America may claim to be fighting the terrorists, but American actions support terrorism. American militarism is what cultured fear and hate of America to begin with. Terrorist violence around the world is inspired by American greed and power-mongering.
"So what can we do to stop it? We have to write our politicians, we have to speak up, we have to make our voice heard. Only Democracy can solve this world crisis."
May Lynn wished she could read the audience. Was she getting through?
"Thank you for coming. Questions please?"
"Hi. I live... well I used to live in a house just outside of Toronto, and I was evicted under imminent domain. The government payed for the relocation, but it ended up costing us sixty thousand dollars to out of our own pocket. All our memories were in that home. So I know about corporate greed and that kind of stuff. My question is, what can we do to fix the government in our own country? Shouldn't we start here?"
May Lynn said, "Well, I'm sure it was a beautiful home. But think of how bad it is in America. I'm from America and I lost all my friends, my college education, and my apartment because I had to flee the country. All I ask is for a little compassion for our American brothers. If we work together, we can solve the problems both there and here."
Another questioner spoke, "Hello. My name is John and I just bought an American car. Americans export their automobiles all over the world, and many companies, like fast food chains and so on, come from America. Isn't America participating in a global economy, and isn't their participation helping get jobs and so on for citizens of countries around the world?"
"I'm glad you brought that up," May Lynn started. "In fact, exporting American capitalism around the world is causing problems, because local cultures are being decimated as the young choose to buy American. While American globalization may be getting jobs for some, it is killing livelihoods for others."
May Lynn answered a few more questions. She couldn't quite place it, but she felt something was not right. Was she making a difference? Did it matter that she left the country? After the questions were over, May Lynn said her thank-yous, then left the stage. Her cell phone rang. "Hello?" May Lynn said.
"Hi, it's me. Okay, we've scheduled a room for you at the Davenport in Vancouver. Your flight leaves at seven PM. See you there."
"Okay, thanks. Bye." She hung up. She took a cab to the airport after a six o-clock dinner. She would arrive at the airport at six thirty.
At the airport she watched the people walking by, this way and that. She looked at her watch. It was time to go to the terminal. She got up and started walking. In front of the terminal, she saw two airport security agents talking to each other. They looked at her, then walked towards her.
"May Lynn Peters, please come with us."
They grabbed her arm and took her to a small room. One of the men waited outside, the other shut the door. "What's going on?" she demanded.
"You've been deported to the United States. We have orders to hold you here, then transport you back to the US."
"How could this be? Doesn't your constitution guarantee freedom of speech? I demand to see a lawyer. I'm not going."
"There will be no lawyer, and you are going." The door opened. "It's here? Okay."
"I demand my rights!" May Lynn said. "I'm not going!"
"May, people get deported all the time. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. Now are you going to come quietly? No?"
The door shut. A moment later, May Lynn left the little room with a black eye and a split lip. She was led to an armored van, and transported back to the United States.
* * *
Nancy was sitting on the couch at her house. She had been brooding over what she was going to do with her life. A war was waging inside her head — there is a conspiracy, there is no conspiracy. There is a conspiracy, there is no conspiracy. Everything that had happened to Nancy was obviously the result of government actions. What did it prove? Were such procedures actually voted on by Congress? Did the government run the Revolutionary Front? Why was she told she was a commander? Was it some bizarre form of interrogation? Did this have something to do with Devin?
"Nancy, there's some mail for you," said her mother, setting a letter down on the coffee table in front of the couch. She didn't recognize the handwriting on the envelope.
Nancy stared at it for a while, finally deciding to open it. Slowly, she peeled the envelope open, then set the paper on the table.
Dear Nancy,
Alex here. I made it: I won. I don't know how often I can write to you. Turns out, there were some conditions to my citizenship in another country. But I have also learned a lot, though I can't tell you the details.
Nancy picked up the letter.
You gotta give it to them, these guys are clever. They've got it all worked out. You see, it's almost like I said in the tournament. I said, 'There's no freedom without security,' right? Well there's no control without freedom either. Any system of absolute control has within itself the seeds of its own destruction, that's what they told me. They said Hitler and the USSR proved this. This is why Americans have freedom, so that they can be controlled. And who can argue with that? If it feels like freedom, it's freedom right? If it doesn't feel like control, it can't be control, right?
I don't know about the Revolutionary Front, but I know that certain anti-American movements are government-sponsored. Why? Because the government wants America to be the strongest nation on the planet. So they support the anti-American elements, so these elements can be guided to their own destruction.
At first I thought these were just bizarre conspiracy theories. Well, yes, they are. Is the government purposely controlling the lives of Americans? I don't know. But I've come to the conclusion that nobody is free. And yet, everybody is. We do what we're told — advertising proves this. But we're allowed to do it. So is it a conspiracy? Yes, but not of the government. It's a conspiracy of the human soul.
Anyway, I no longer have a name. You can still call me Alex, but the government erased my identity. They erased files of my fingerprints, all identification, everything. They told people not to talk about me. Nancy, the important thing to remember is that I don't exist. But I'll be your hope, Nancy. You have hope. Just remember, I don't exist.
Yours Truly,
Alex
Wow, Nancy thought, I know the winner of the Take Me Away tournament. Nancy sat back in the couch. I have hope, she thought. I have hope. My hope doesn't even exist.
Nancy laughed.
"I'll be your hope, Nancy. You have hope. Just remember, I don't exist."
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