The First Love Of Alipang Havens

When supper was over, Ulrich and Greta's gradeschool-age son Ethan said, "Mister Henry, Doctor Alipang, we have a surprise for you. Please come outside." Alipang and Henry did so, accompanied by the whole family; they went out the back door, which in Amish houses was used more than the front door.

Greta Reinhart gestured to some handmade chairs on the grass. "Gentlemen, please have a seat...then close your eyes." When the guests had done so, Ulrich took over: "Although mortal nations and their secular traditions mean little to us Amish, we understand that the memory of an older America means something to you. And you have proven yourselves true friends to our people. So we want to give you a little gift. Keep your eyes closed, and we shall take you on a trip in time, back to when the Fourth of July was celebrated. With your eyes closed, friends--enjoy the fireworks!"

Alipang was almost startled into _opening_ his eyes by what he heard next. It was a banging and popping, as if a Fourth of July fireworks display really were in progress, perhaps a kilometer away. The seeming explosions went on for better than half a minute. At last they fell silent, and Greta said, "Happy Independence Day, brethren; you may open your eyes."

Now Alipang and Henry could see that Ulrich and Greta's children, with other Amish children who had come over from the neighboring farms--the teenage Lydia among them--had been making the noise by inflating and popping a great quantity of plastic bags and lightweight paper bags.

"That was radical!" Henry exclaimed; and Alipang asked, "Where did you get all those bags?"

"A man I trade with had a lot of them," Ulrich explained; "he had turned them up in the cupboards of a condemned house, in the first year of the Enclave. Used some for this and that, but wasn't sure what to do with the rest. Our Esther had the idea to use them for sound effects in just the way the children have now done, to give you gentlemen a treat when we would next see you here. I hope it gave you memories."

"Absolutely," Alipang told him. "General Longstreet Park, my first July Fourth in the United States."

"As for me," said Henry, "it made me remember the one time I was in Phoenix for a July Fourth celebration. Thank you, thank you all."

"It also gives me an idea," Alipang resumed. "Since Hezekiah's article in the paper went over so well, maybe someone among you Amish could write a friendly little article about this act of kindness you've just done."

"One of you men could equally write about it," Ulrich suggested. "From the recipient's viewpont."

"But Henry and I both have a relatively warlike aura about us. If we wrote an article about a remembrance of Independence Day, it would be easier for some idiot to dig up and re-use the tedious old cliches about 'violent patriotic fanatics clinging to their guns.' It would be better coming from an Amish author; even Kasim Rasulala never was able to convince himself that _your_ community was plotting a violent mutiny."

 
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As on a previous occasion, Alipang and Henry bedded down that night in the Reinharts' loft. They had been sleeping for more than an hour when a sound awoke them both: a sound of airplane propellors.

In the moonlight coming through the hay window, they looked at each other. "Airplanes are prohibited from flying over the Enclave," murmured Henry.

"That is, _civilian_ airplanes are prohibited. Government aircraft can go where they please; you've surely seen an occasional Overseer helicopter."

"True enough, but I don't remember _ever_ seeing a fixed-wing airplane flying above us here."

"Of course, you haven't been with us very long. Kim and I have seen a few. Don't know where this one's headed. There's no landing strip close by... Maybe someone's heading for the mining zone. There could be--"

As if the Fourth of July were getting its revenge for being abolished, the conversation was cut off, more like annihilated, by a frightful BLAM in the sky, followed by a sound like an airplane falling to earth somewhere north of the Reinhart farm.

The descendant of Apache braves, and the descendant of Moro jungle fighters, both scrambled into action like their warrior ancestors. Each man had his boots on his feet, and his backside on the bare back of his Canadian horse, less than two minutes after the explosion. Greta Reinhart rushed outdoors in time to cry out "What happened?" before the Grange volunteers galloped off.

"An airplane is crashing!" Henry shouted. "Call up the Overseers, and wake up your neighbors if they aren't already up!" Then he and Alipang kicked their mounts into motion.

The light of flames was now visible against the night sky, somewhere past a stand of trees. As the two men rode hard for the scene, Alipang shouted to his comrade, "Good move, _saying_ to call the mirror-men!" He knew that the global positioning network would alert the Overseers to the accident anyway, not to mention the probability that the pilot had been in radio communication with someone before something blew up; nonetheless, it would look better to the authorities that the Grange men had _positively_ requested an Overseer presence at the accident scene.

So now they could concentrate on seeing if anyone had survived the crash.
 
The airplane was a twin-engine four-seater, based on the once-familiar design the Cessna Corporation used to manufacture before Cessna and all American aircraft manufacturers were annexed by the government. The whole plane had not exploded, only one engine had, after which the neo-Cessna had spun to the ground. The plane's body was not painted black as in paranoid imagery of the past, but it was unmarked. It had fallen on the next Amish property north of the Reinhart farm. An automatic fire-suppressant system, and a sophisticated impact-absorbing system, had saved the occupants from being incinerated and from being pulverized; but they were still stuck inside the crumpled cockpit. Several persons, presumably the residents of this farm, were standing nearby without taking any action; since they were not the casualties, neither Alipang nor Henry took much notice of them in the moment of pulling up to dismount.

It was a small amount of spilled fuel or hydraulic fluid, out of reach of the inboard fire extinguishers, that was burning and lending light to the scene; shining from the ground, it shone in where the moonlight could not.

The firelight revealed that the slumped figures inside wore the reflective uniforms of Overseers.

The sacks of expanded noncombustible foam that had cushioned the aviators had kept them alive, and _almost_ certainly had prevented neck or spine fracture. Alipang had in mind using his fish-gutting knife to cut open the sacks, after which he would scoop the foam out until enough space was clear that the casualties could be carefully lifted out of the cockpit. But as he drew his knife, he realized that Henry was not beside him.

Henry had stopped three paces back, and was standing listlessly, staring with unfocussed eyes at the wreck. Now Alipang saw that this was what the Amish family was also doing. All of them looked as if they cared nothing about what was happening.

"Henry, are you all right?" No answer. The young Apache seemed unharmed, _except_ for no longer paying any attention to what was before him. Time to investigate this after he made sure the aviators weren't bleeding to death.

So he turned toward the plane again...took one more step toward it...and had to pause and remember why he was walking toward these total strangers who were sitting in a grounded airplane. He took another step anyway, since he was sure there must be _some_ reason...then he paused again, to remember why he, in particular, and not someone else, should be involved in the situation. There should be someone more qualified, more capable...he shouldn't be meddling in...in whatever this was. Maybe he should stand still and wait for someone else to do something.

Then he remembered, through physically feeling the hilt in his grip, that he was holding a knife. Why was he holding a knife? He was standing near where fire extinguishers had been discharged, and he was holding a knife, and it was a holiday night. Hadn't this happened before? Yes, it had been Christmas Eve...he himself had used a fire extinguisher for something...and a knife...What had that been about?

Whatever it had been about, there _hadn't_ been anyone else present to manage the situation; he, Alipang, had had to do--whatever it was that he had done then. Yes, and that was how it was now: _nobody_ was doing anything.

So Alipang Havens--remembering something about a "Filipino Fireball"--would do something.

Shaking off the mental daze, or most of it, he struggled to remember _what_ he had been intending to do. And like a transistor letting the current through upon the necessary voltage being applied, a complete grasp of the situation returned to him. He cut away the impact-cushioning material as he had intended; and as he had intended, he slowly lifted each flier out in turn, holding each one's head immobilized in case of cervical fracture. He laid each one flat on--HER back, they were both women; then he looked farther inside, to make sure that these two women were the only occupants of the plane.

There were no other people in the after portion of the airplane cabin; but there was an apparatus of some kind, nothing he had ever seen before. He wasted no time on guessing, but returned to the two women who needed a paramedic. For he had remembered that he was a paramedic, besides--that other thing, the thing with people's teeth.

Both women, though unconscious, were breathing normally. Neither one had any conspicuous broken bones, nor any more-than-superficial bleeding trauma. He couldn't be sure about concussion, there wasn't enough light to check the pupils of their eyes with certainty.

And then there was too much light all at once. Wasn't that the way of things? Always too much or too little? Maybe he could ask the people in the helicopter about that; for the searchlight illuminating him from above was mounted on a helicopter. By the time Alipang had pieced together in his mind that these must be more Overseers coming to the rescue of their fellows, the helicopter had landed, barely missing crushing the Amish housewife who stood apathetically with the rest of her family. The newcomers were both male, and spoke to each other before either spoke to anyone else:

"Relax! He wasn't hurting them--can't you see he was rendering first aid? I think I recognize these two, they're Grange volunteers."

"But how was he able to keep on--?"

"Stop, don't say anymore. Give the ladies each a restoring shot; the Grangers don't have those in their medical kits." The man who seemed subordinate stepped past Alipang to do what he had been told, while the senior Overseer looked Alipang in the eye.

"Are you a Grange volunteer?"

"I think so, sir," the still-foggy Alipang replied.

"Do you like Overseers?"

There was no emotion in Alipang's next answer--only truth: "I despise them, sir. Most of them are cowardly bullies, who enjoy being able to push people around. In a fair fight, I could kill any two of them easily, and most of them know it. But they have technology to hide behind. The Campaign Against Hate, it should be called Campaign Against Truth, picks them for being bullies. Even the less nasty ones are still zombie servants to the dictatorship."

From behind him, the junior Overseer said to the senior one: "Our fliers are okay, starting to come around. And that Grange man is _definitely_ not hiding anything or trying to trick us. Even with his--"

"Quiet! He has no need to know!" the senior Overseer snapped at his subordinate past Alipang, then resumed questioning Alipang. "Is your name Alipang Havens?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who is the other man who came with you?"

"Henry Spafford. We came up from the Reinhart farm."

"Reinhart: that's the family that called for us through the civilian telephone network, isn't it?"

"Henry did ask Mrs. Reinhart to call you."

"Good. Although we knew there was trouble anyway, what your friends did was the right thing. Tell me this, Havens: did you see anything unusual inside the plane when you brought the crewmembers out?"

"Something like machinery."

"Do you know what it was?"

"I have no idea."

"Very well, you needn't concern yourself with it. We appreciate you rendering aid to persons you despise. Did you do this because of your religion?"

"You could say so, sir. The Lord Jesus taught that God the Father is kind even to the selfish and the ungrateful. My Dad likes to remind me of that."

"Whatever your motives, thank you. And thank you for answering my questions. I can tell that you spoke truthfully. Now, I believe you and these others have suffered a bit of smoke inhalation, so we're going to transport you to an infirmary until we're sure you're all right. We'll inform those who need to be informed...."
 
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Chapter 14: The Involuntary Celebrities


Since the Diversity States of America was not _quite_ the Soviet Union in 1930, and the Western Enclave was not _quite_ Stalin's gulag, the Overseer's assurance actually was true. Alipang, Henry and the stupefied Amish farmers were genuinely treated in the infirmary at the Overseer base north of Sussex, though none of them knew what it was they were being treated for; and loved ones of all the patients were genuinely informed of the situation--though not of the cause for the patients' dazed condition.

When Kim Havens, with her children and the Kramers in tow, arrived at the infirmary, they were met by Captain Maria Butello, the woman in command of the base. Kim's first words to her were "Where's my husband?"

"Please don't be alarmed, Citizen Havens. Your current partner is recovering without complications, as are the others. You can see him in a moment; I just need to explain something to you first. Alipang Havens and Henry Spafford, far from being in any trouble with the law, are being officially commended for coming to the aid of law-enforcement officers in an emergency."

"You didn't tell us much about what _kind_ of emergency it was," remarked Lorraine over Kim's shoulder.

"An aviation accident, Citizen Kramer. Two of our personnel were on a routine flight from the South Dakota section of the Enclave, when one engine of their aircraft exploded. The two Overseers were saved from death by the crash-survival system, but were knocked unconscious. Citizen Havens, that is Alipang Havens, and Citizen Spafford, attempted to perform first aid on the Overseers; but lacking respiratory protection, they were overcome themselves by toxic smoke produced by the burning of some important chemicals the plane had been transporting. That Amish family was also affected."

"But you say they're all right now?" Kim persisted.

"Yes, and fully alert. The chemicals that were burned were not carcinogenic, and there is no permanent damage to any of the patients. I want to be very sure that you understand that all is well....because you will soon be meeting the news media."

"Not _before_ I see my husband, I hope."

"Don't worry, Citizen Havens, the reporters won't be allowed in until you and the others are ready."

Kim caught one glance of Overseer Dana Pickering, who seemed to be having a similar talk with the Amish relatives of the hospitalized Amish persons; then she was in Alipang's room, ahead of everyone else.

Just as Alipang's sister Melody had a secret code with her husband Emilio, so Alipang and Kim had a few covert signals of their own. When Alipang, who was sitting up in his hospital bed and looking perfectly lucid, began kissing Kim, he pushed his chin against hers twice; this was a signal that he believed there was no present danger. Once she was given this reassurance, Kim could allow a corner of her brain to be conscious of a lesser matter: being glad that Dana Pickering was not hovering over Alipang.
 
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After the members of Alipang's household had been allowed to lavish affection and questions on him, Henry Spafford's mother came over from Henry's treatment cubicle, to tell Alipang: "You look a bit more sure of yourself than Henry does. Do you know where you are?"

"Yes, Gloria, I'm in the infirmary of Overseer Base Number Fourteen. Except for Number One being their Enclave headquarters in Rapid City, they number their bases going from southeast to northwest."

"Henry has no problem recognizing people, but he's still confused about how you and he came to be here. Do you remember anything that happened at the time you and he rode to the crash scene?"

"I'm afraid not. They tell me that we were felled by some kind of contaminated smoke from the wreck. The women who were flying the plane are alive, though heavily bruised; they came around in wheelchairs and thanked Henry and me for trying to help them. But since they were unconscious themselves after they hit, they couldn't add anything I hadn't already heard about what Henry and I did. So I really can't offer anything beyond the official version of events."

The equipment monitoring Alipang's vital signs was also testing him for truthfulness in everything he said. The man following the brainwave indicators from another room, also hearing what was said, nodded, seeing that the patient was indeed speaking truthfully. There would not _necessarily_ have been adverse action against the dissident dentist even if he had remembered the events of last night; with him not remembering, there was no reason to change the plan for favorable treatment.

After Gloria Spafford returned to her husband Jay and their son, Kim asked Alipang, "Just as a citizen like anybody, what do you think caused the plane crash? It isn't as if anyone shot them down with a missile."

Alipang was abrupt and emphatic. "The labor unions. You saw what they had become by the time we were moved here. Just what W.A.L.N.U.T. always wanted them to be: huge parasitic monopolies, as completely exalted above the law as they always accused businesses of being, placing power and privilege for their leaders above everyone and everything else. Able to protect themselves from accountability so well, that aircraft mechanics could even get away with slacking and skating in the maintenance of the Overseers' own airplanes. I'll bet that engine exploded because of some flaw that could have been detected and remedied if the mechanics had felt like _earning_ their pay."

The operator monitoring the conversation found that he had to agree with Alipang. Only the _very_ highest officials even in the Campaign Against Hate had the power to bring union leaders to heel; ordinary Overseers and Pinkshirts had to swallow many indignities from the unions--unless a union leader openly criticized the President or the Party, which would make him or her fair game for a hate-speech arrest.

After Alipang had let Esperanza and Brendan tell him little domestic events in their effort to feel things were normal, the attending physician poked her head into the room. "Citizen Alipang Havens, do you feel ready now to speak with a reporter from the Collective Network?"

Alipang, Kim and Lorraine were impressed; the Collective Network served not only the D.S.A., but much of the Hemispheric Union. "Sure, I'll talk to her." He didn't know the gender of the reporter he was about to meet, but assuming female was more politically correct.

Into the room came a person with crewcut hair and a hard-set face, wearing a business suit about as flattering as a concrete slab. When this person spoke, it was in a startlingly pleasant female voice. Fashions and fads being what they were, the recognition of her as a woman was not confused by her announcing her name as Dynamo Earthquake.

A pin in her suit lapel, and an eyebrow piercing on her face, were all the camera and sound gear Dynamo Earthquake required for the interview. Doubtless she had already spoken TO a camera outside the infirmary, to introduce the story; now the view she would give to the streamcast audience would all be of Alipang, probably to be followed by a summary showing the reporter's face again, with followup remarks over which Alipang would have no influence. Kim couldn't help thinking a sarcastic thought, in her old manner from adolescence before love had mellowed her: the thought that Alipang was _prettier_ than the woman interviewing him.
 
Ms. Earthquake, for her part, had had to give herself a talking-to before she came in. She needed to remember that she was assigned to conduct a _friendly_ interview with a Christian today. It had scarcely been three days since she personally had taken the lead in an assignment to make up out of nothing a fake story about Christians murdering children for fun, the criminals being supposedly inspired by that Bible story, whatever it was, about Isaac sacrificing his son Abraham or something like that.

Arriving in the treatment cubicle, she assessed what she saw. "All right, citizens, before we begin, help me set the stage. You four young persons, please leave the room. You can remain close enough to hear what is said, provided you stay quiet; but you shouldn't be on camera."

"I wanna stay with my Papa!" protested little Brendan, clinging to Alipang.

"You won't be far from your caregiver, just a few steps away." She then addressed Lorraine: "Is that boy your bioproduct?"

"No, only the tallest one is. By a different father--my HUSBAND, who is now deceased."

"Please, no hate speech." Ms. Earthquake turned to Kim. "Then are all three others your bioproducts?"

"Yes, by MY husband here."

Ms. Earthquake almost repeated the rebuke against the "hate speech" of mentioning marriage; but something in Kim's face made her forbear. Instead, she explained: "For the sake of giving people a good impression of Alipang, we don't want so large a number of children to be seen; it might make viewers think that Alipang doesn't care about sustainable population levels." At last Brendan was persuaded to move away from the infirmary bed, and waited close behind the reporter, held reassuringly by his big brother Wilson. Then the interview could begin.

"Here we see Alipang Havens and the two women he lives with, Lorraine and Kim. Alipang, what is the last thing you remember before the chemical smoke at the crash site rendered you unconscious?"

"First, Ms. Earthquake, let me mention that only one of these women is a partner to me; the other lives as a family member of ours, and shares in all the work. You could consider it a small collective." (Alipang could see that the very use of the magic word "collective" impressed the journalist favorably.) "As for the night of the plane crash, Henry Spafford and I had been staying overnight in the Reinharts' barn, during our latest volunteer tour for the Grange, when we heard the noise of the explosion and the falling plane. So we mounted our horses--"

The reporter interjected, "We remind our viewers that the use of horses is part of the natural sustainability policy in the Western Enclave, and the Grange Association is to be commended for its faithfulness to Mother Earth in this and other areas. But go on, Alipang."

"We rode toward the noise. The wrecked plane wasn't hard to find. The last thing I remember was seeing that there were some other Amish people nearby. I'm not sure now what they were doing; the next thing I remember is waking up at this base infirmary."

"But you have been made aware that you and your friend attempted to aid the occupants of the aircraft, right?"

"So they tell me. Today I met the women who were in the plane, but I couldn't recall ever seeing them before."

"I'm sure they'll remember you. And I know that all the personnel of the Campaign Against Hate, who so tirelessly preserve the peace and conformity of society in the Diversity States, appreciate your readiness to assist them. It's good citizens like you, even in the complicated circumstances of developing the Western Enclave as a green resource for the continent, who give us hope for a future of oneness and peace. Before we close, Alipang, is there anyone in the outside viewing audience you would like to greet?"

Alipang looked at his wife. "Kim?" She responded by addressing the camera: "To my mother, Elizabeth Tisdale, my sisters Sharon, Susan and Baeline, to Peggy who played with me online, and to Holly who taught me to dance--I hope you're well. The children and I are fine. I love you."

Lorraine was also offered the opportunity. "I say hello to members of the Matthews family and the Stetzer family, and to my special friend Deborah Wesselrood. Keep up your spirits."

Then it was Alipang's turn. "First of all, I greet my sisters Chilena and Melody, with their households. I love you very much. Mom and Dad, Harmony and Terrance are okay. Hello to Uncle Doug and Aunt Tracy. Brendan Hyland and Gilberto Costamesa, I hope you're doing well. There's the Imadas, the Richardsons, Evan and Summer--plenty of people who deserve to be remembered. Remember us; we're doing with our might what our hands find to do."

This was the last thing recorded in the room by Dynamo Earthquake, who briefly thanked Alipang and left the room. All of her followup would probably be done back in a studio, and Alipang had no way of knowing whether what he and the women had just said would be retained intact. It was unlikely that any exile would ever see the streamcast.

But at least little Brendan could now hurl himself back into his Papa's embrace.
 
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At their home in Delaware, Dan and Chilena Salisbury had long had their personal media complex programmed to pick up anything about Eric, Cecilia, Alipang, Kim, Harmony, or Terrance Havens--just on the off chance of the controlled media ever acknowledging these exiles for any reason. But it was with joyful astonishment that Chilena saw how at last an exiled loved one WAS featured in the news.

"Oh my God, it's Alipang!!" Chilena screamed, seeing him on the screen, and glad that their system would automatically save this video.

"I wonder if he had to make some kind of concession, like us, to be allowed this message to the outside?" mused Chilena's husband. The salutations from his brother-in-law, from Kim and from Lorraine were complete and unedited, not that Dan could know this for certain.

Chilena, for her part, wept with happiness and love, suddenly remembering all the tender play-fights at the old house in Smoky Lake.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

At their home in Texas, Emilio and Melody Vasquez had long had their personal media complex programmed to pick up anything about Eric, Cecilia, Alipang, Kim, Harmony, or Terrance Havens--just on the off chance of the controlled media ever acknowledging these exiles for any reason. But it was with joyful astonishment that Melody saw how at last an exiled loved one WAS featured in the news.

"Oh my God, it's Alipang!!" Melody screamed, seeing him on the screen, and glad that their system would automatically save this video.

"I wonder what the Overseers are really up to, and whether it comes from higher up in the Hemispheric Union?" mused Melody's husband. He would have thought less about it if the network interviewing his brother-in-law had been purely a Diversity States media outlet.

Melody, for her part, wept with happiness and love, suddenly remembering Alipang's comical impersonations of Larry the Cucumber and Bob the Tomato.
 
The Alipang Havens interview was also watched with interest by someone who had never heard of the exile dentist and Grange rider: Daffodil Ford, the teenage son of Ambassador-at-Large Samantha Ford.

Up to now, Daffodil had never known much about the Western Enclave. In light of his caregiver's career, it had always been typical for him, when looking outside the narrow microcosm of the school system, to look ALL the way outside the Diversity States. He knew plenty about events like the transfer of the Vatican to Nigeria, but he knew little about the transfer of part of America's own population.

After seeing the interview, he did a search for articles about the Enclave. Oddly, no video or even still pictures accompanied the articles he found, unless one counted a simple map showing what parts of what former states were included in the Christians' reservation. But there was lots of text--in fact, so much text that it could, and did, contain abundant self-contradiction.

In most accounts, the Christians were confined to the Enclave because they were disruptive and dangerous to society. But in other accounts, they were there as volunteers, conducting an ambitious project to make that part of the country more green and Gaia-friendly. One article insisted that they were undergoing experiments aimed at completely curing old age, producing a race of immortals; and another said that the Enclave was a giant cult compound, with its residents ominously carrying guns everywhere they went.

One thing Daffodil had learned from his mother was that, when the government media allowed so much self-contradiction, there must be something important about the subject matter.

Daffodil called up the interview again, and watched it four more times. The first two of these times, he was listening intently to what was said; the latter two times, he studied the facial expressions and body language of the three exiles who were visible onscreen. The two women both looked as if they respected this Alipang Havens very highly, which was already intriguing. There was not the slightest hint of their wishing to humiliate or defeat him. And Alipang Havens himself had an uncommon self-confidence, which almost...maybe...

Yes, that was it. Alipang's manner was like that of Bert Randall the Australian. Something that was missing, somehow, from the men in the Diversity States.
 
Henry Spafford had been shown on camera too, but not interviewed as Alipang had been. Neither he nor Alipang had any way of knowing the reason why Alipang was of greater interest to the Campaign Against Hate. But the authorities knew: it was because Alipang had shown uncommon resistance to a certain gaseous mixture that had been leaking out of the special apparatus in the wrecked airplane.

Still, Henry's face was also seen outside the Enclave, and he enjoyed his fair share of attention _within_ the Enclave. It was he whom the publisher's wife from the Wyoming Observer interviewed about the plane-crash incident; Alipang was already known to many readers, while Henry was less known up to now.

The Overseers lent a hand for this one issue of the exile newspaper, making copies with their own equipment, since the headline story promoted goodwill between the prisoners and the guards. On this occasion, circulation went up to 6,500 copies, which seemed fabulous, and copies could be found in the most out-of-the-way Enclave communities. Henry was now in the good graces of the Overseers, without losing his standing among the exiles--for the article about him included information about his service to farming folk though the Grange Association.

But Henry kept something to himself, not bringing it up for now even to Alipang, since there could be someone specifically watching to see if he and Alipang seemed to be having secret discussions. It had to do with Henry's experiences in hunting and tracking.

The young Apache was accustomed to thinking of, and looking out for, the clues that little things like dirt could give. He also liked detective stories; he had read Jim Hillerman's entire Jim Chee Navajo Police series. And Henry had noticed something pertaining to himself and Alipang. In the wake of this chemical-exposure incident, all the clothing he and Alipang had been wearing, had been destroyed. So had the saddles and tack from their Grange horses, and the two men's sheath knives had been replaced with others. The horses likewise had been put through some kind of decontamination process before being returned to the Grange hall.

But one thing had been overlooked by the Overseers.

No one at their infirmary had thought to wash Henry's long hair.

Accordingly, at the first opportunity after his discharge from that infirmary, Henry Spafford washed his own hair...and kept some of the wash water in two tightly-closed jars.

God willing, someday there would be a way to get that water analyzed.
 
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Chapter 15: A Mother in the Middle Kingdom


From their long stay in Hawaii which had been ten parts pleasure to one part business, Ambassador-At-Large Samantha Ford and her companion-secretary Nalani Hahona flew farther west--by private jet, since they were clear of the North American continent. They were bound for Beijing, which was now the seat of the United Nations. Loss of the United Nations was one of the conditions under which the People's Republic of Greater China had forgiven most of America's colossal debt. Moreover, the only Security Council members now able to veto the General Assembly were China, India and Saudi Arabia.

In Beijing, Samantha would represent the President of the Diversity States to confer in person (less open to espionage than any long-distance communication form) with Carlota Ruiz, the D.S.A.'s Ambassador to the U.N., about an expected General Assembly vote.

Daffodil had called his mother as she was travelling, wanting to talk to her about something concerning the Western Enclave in America, but she had told him it would have to wait.

On the approach to Beijing, Samantha saw through her window an unmanned aerospace craft flying beside them for a moment, before it veered off to continue its programmed patrol rounds. This large, swift drone, with design based on technology stolen from America some twelve years before, was called a Monkey Cloud: a name derived from the Chinese legend of the supernatural Monkey King. China, and its rival India, had progressed beyond the use of piloted aircraft for combat purposes, because they themselves had so many ways of shooting down manned fighters. Even countries that still used warplanes with pilots were being forced to try ever newer innovations to enable survival in modern battle conditions. Humanity in general was only grateful that there hadn't been very much occasion in recent years for these aerial tactical problems to be studied through actual fighting.

At Beijing International Airport, the two travellers were met by Carlota Ruiz and her staff. Nalani and Carlota glared at each other with undisguised mutual hatred. Carlota had formerly had, in every way, exactly the same relationship with Samantha as Nalani now enjoyed, and Carlota had never forgiven the Hawaiian for supplanting her in that easy job which had so many amenities--although, no thanks to Nalani, Carlota's diplomatic career had boomed soon afterward. But the two foes would not need to have any dealings with each other, and Nalani would just have to accept the fact that current business did require periods of business talk between Carlota and Samantha.

Some entertaining and eating followed; but nothing of any substance was said until Samantha was in Carlota's bugproof office the next morning. No one else was there except two male Pinkshirts from America who were there as aides and security guards.

"Which candidate nation is looking most like a winner behind the scenes?" asked Samantha. She was referring to the competition for which U.N. member nation would head up a new U.N. commission: the Commission on Small Nations. This was only just being formed, because it was only in very recent years that, just below the global level of the U.N., the majority of nations on Earth had come to be part of one supra-nation or another: the Islamic Realm of Europe, the Mexican Alliance, the Venezuelan Alliance, the Pacific Federation and so on. Africa, though there had already been an African Union for many years, had never gone so far in continental unity as to be considered one bloc; other than African states, only a few stand-alone countries remained, among them Israel, Chile, Poland, and the newly-constituted Alchatka.

Carlota looked almost worried as she answered her former employer's question. "The Beijing government still is noncommittal; but believe it or not, there is growing support for putting...OUR country in charge of it."

Samantha was horrified. "But, but that would mean opening the door once again to predatory racist imperialism!" She was not speaking with tongue in cheek, she meant every word.

Carlota tried to be reassuring. "Not as long as Jessica Trevette is President."

Samantha took a long breath. "You're right. Thank the Goddess that our presidents don't have to be elected by the nation anymore. You never know what might happen if the proletariat could vote again. All the same, President Trevette has ordered me to tell you that we must vote for a country which actually is a small one, preferably Bangladesh, second choice Iceland."

"Not Israel, then?"

Samantha lowered her eyebrows. "You ARE joking, aren't you? The nation where the--" (she spat the word like a curse) "--BIBLE was written?"

"But China is friendly with Israel for the present."

"That will change, I hope. Meanwhile, you've heard what the President wants."

Conspicuously absent from this meeting, but not missed by any of the heterophobic women, was the one male American diplomat of any consequence to be found in Greater China: Benito Salazar, D.S. Ambassador to Greater China. Benito had already been the U.S. Ambassador before the Trevette coup, and had retained his post because the oligarchs of Beijing liked him. That is, they liked humiliating him, getting more satisfaction from humiliating an American man than American women. Most of his activity in Greater China consisted in touring conquered areas like Taiwan, so that he could have his nose rubbed in the fact that America had been powerless to halt China's expansion. Right now he was in Vietnam.

Samantha and her peers gave as little thought as possible to Benito, for it was revolting to them to hear that some Asian women actually found him attractive.
 
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Samantha and Nalani dined that evening at a classy restaurant, located as near to Beijing's Forbidden City as possible. Both women were a little startled to notice several Chinese persons at another table openly wearing crosses around their necks, and praying over their food. But otherwise the evening was enjoyable enough for both women that they soon forgot what for them had been a jarring note.

The next morning at the United Nations Palace, abundant speechmaking got underway on the subject of the Commission on Small Nations--especially the newly-created Alchatka, and the recently-seceded Polynesian Republic of Hawaii. Although the Diversity States delegation still was Carlota's turf, Samantha was allowed to deliver a guest oration (partly written for her by Nalani) in a favorable midmorning time slot.

"Neighbors in the global village! Fellow tribespeople on the island of life in the galactic ocean! Our deliberations today will touch frequently upon two pieces of territory which once were in bondage to the late and unlamented American corporate empire: the former states of Alaska and Hawaii. I am here in the name of the Diversity States, and of the Presidium of the Fairness Party, to assure you that no one is more pleased than my people are now, to see these old wrongs being righted. In the creation of the sovereign nation of Alchatka, partial amends have been made for all of the unprovoked hostility and jingoistic hysteria which unenlightened Americans directed at the Russian people for most of the twentieth century. And in the liberation of the ancient culture of Hawaii, the racist oppression which was the true and only motivation of all so-called missionaries has been repudiated.

"Whether Alchatka remains a small nation on its own, or chooses to join the Russian Commonwealth... and whether Hawaii remains a small nation on its own, or chooses to join the Pacific Federation...every properly-evolved mind in the Diversity States will continue to rejoice that those populations are free at last from the old bourgeois American fascism!

"As today's deliberations proceed, I urge you all to think of Alchatka and Hawaii as if they were in fact committed already to remaining distinct segments of the planetary community. After all, even if they cease to be quasi-separate small nations, they will still possess collective experience relevant to the General Assembly's future dealings with small nations..."

This speech was not given because either Samantha or her President had changed the plan to nominate Bangladesh as leading nation for the Commission on Small Nations. It was a distracter, like a pretense of a rigid position at the start of bargaining. Samantha had hinted, not explicitly stated, that the D.S.A. would like to see one of its former states leading this commission; thus Carlota would be able to act out a "reluctant retreat" from this presumed preference, and let herself be talked into voting for Bangladesh.

As Equalityball players triumphed in the achievement of NOT triumphing, so the United Nations delegation from the Diversity States would implement the real agenda of their government by NOT promoting their own country's interests.
 
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The Ambassador to the United Nations from the Babylonian Caliphate spoke next. His part of the world was administratively split up into as many separate principalities as possible, in order to have as many votes in the General Assembly as they could get; but most of the time, they spoke with one voice, the voice now spraying the microphone. The Babylonian Ambassador spent five minutes raging against Samantha Ford and every other woman in the place--for presuming to speak in the presence of men, and for not being buried in suffocating burkas. He looked as if he would leave the podium and attempt bodily harm to the nearest infidel woman, if not for the presence of some very tough Chinese guards. Indeed, the Chinese kept every member of the Babylonian delegation under close surveillance, to prevent actual violence to women.

When he finally turned to the actual business of the day, the Babylonian Ambassador bluntly declared that no other outcome could possibly be acceptable, than for one of the Caliphate's component states to head the Commission on Small Nations.

Next up was the Polish Ambassador, a man who had served in peacekeeping forces alongside American troops, back when there had been a United States of America for Poland to be allied with. He gave a velvet back of his hand to the Babylonian delegation by smoothly greeting all the women in the chamber; then he spoke about the historic vulnerability of smaller nations to being invaded by larger ones. He cited the invasion of Austria by the old Turkish empire, an invasion that just happened to have been defeated by King Jan Sobieski of Poland coming to the aid of the Austrians. He went on to tell about the Polish Solidarity movement which had defied the Soviet Union. In conclusion, he calmly proposed that Poland head the new commission, but promised that his country would work with whatever country was chosen in that capacity.

Major Yang Sung-Kuo, the Chinese Internal Affairs officer who was on United Nations duty today, observed the faces of the men in the Babylonian delegation, and made a note to increase the protective watch on the Polish Ambassador.

= = = = = = = = = = = = =

The matter of the Commission on Small Nations was nowhere near settled by close of business; but Samantha was confident that Carlota Ruiz could handle the American side of the debate without further interference. She urged Nalani to go out for some relaxation and amusement with a group of U.N. acquaintances which included the observers from Hawaii; and as Nalani was thus out on the town, Samantha made a call--for once, a video call--to her son, for whom it was morning in Boston.

"Hey, Caregiver, it's good to see your face! Did you and Carlota sway any major decisions today?"

Not yet, Daffy; but it was a productive day, thanks to our NOT having any sexist racist Christians disrupting everything."

"Funny you should mention that....because two Christian men have just been in the news back here. I don't know how sexist they are, but I know that they helped two women in trouble; and I know they can't be white supremacists, because they aren't white."

"Is this what you wanted to talk about before?"

"Yes, Mom." (Samantha didn't rebuke him for slipping into the old-fashioned form of address; she merely tried not to notice that it made something inside her feel good.) "One is Asian, the other is Native American, but both are Christians--exiles in the Western Enclave, as a matter of fact."

"I see. I suppose their 'help' consisted of condescending patriarchal interference with women who were completely in control of a situation?"

"No, Mom, not according to the Collective Network. Two female Overseers crashed in a plane on Enclave soil and were unconscious, and the two Christian men went to help them."

"Hmmph! Up to some self-serving scheme, no doubt."

"Not according to our own media...."

Samantha was unwilling to believe any good thing about any male who believed in a male deity; yet she could tell that something about this news report was touching her son's heart, though she was unsure why. At the end of the conversation, she went so far as to tell Daffodil she loved him; this visibly pleased him--but there still was something agitating his mind. So she reminded him to drink some Joy Nectar, and said goodbye.

She would give more thought later to her son's state of mind.
 
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I caught up on the new updates.:D

It must be weird to have to call your parents "Caregiver."

Does the world get any better by the end of the story? Because this is really getting dystopian...
 
SeaStar, as a believer in Christ, you know that the world as we know it HAS TO end at some time. For those who are within God's grace, this will be the happiest ending there could possibly be, as Mr. Lewis tried to make clear in "The Last Battle." But the path to that happy ending WILL be rough.

None of us absolutely knows how much time the world has left. Thus, I deliberately did not make this novel one more "Left Behind" kind of story, trying to speculate what THE "End Time" will be like. What Alipang and others are enduring is what could happen in the near future, EVEN IF the events of the Book of Revelation are farther off than many now suppose. It is my own prayer that, if real life does get this bad within my lifetime, I will be able to face it at least as well as, say, the character of Dan Salisbury is facing it.

But I'll reveal something to my readers now: unlike "The Tale of Sophia Renee," the ending here IS NOT predetermined. Like "The Truman Show," I don't know how it will end! So now I issue an invitation for input from the readers!

Should evil be pushed back in the world as I am depicting it, so that Alipang and others can emerge triumphantly from the Enclave to build a better world (while still going to Heaven when their time does come to die)?

Or should Alipang Havens reach Heaven at a young age, by the hard road of Christian martyrdom, to receive an especially glorious reward?
 
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So, to continue with Chapter Fifteen...

Major Yang went home after duty, to his Thai-born wife Tupsim and their three daughters, Ting-Ba, Ting-Ju and Ting-Lao. Beijing's policy of only one child, or in some cases two, had fulfilled years ago the purpose the Party had _always_ had in mind: creating in the Chinese population a vast surplus of military-age men, who would have an incentive to venture abroad and take foreign women, and the women's countries along with them. Now that Greater China was an accepted fact, the conquered had adjusted to the new conditions--which were not so bad, because of China's concurrent liberalizing trend. The liberalizing had not been strong enough to prevent aggression in the first place, but now it made life much more bearable for the conquered, as well as allowing more children.

In Yang's particular case, his wife had not actually been abducted and forced into marriage. Yang's branch of service had not been in the front lines of conquering Vietnam, Laos, Kampuchea, Burma, Taiwan and Thailand. He had only come to Bangkok after the dust (chemical dust as well as ordinary dust) settled. He had met Tupsim by chance, and she had been ordinary-looking enough that the first wave of abductions had passed her by. But Yang had seen qualities in her that he liked, and had ended up not only marrying her, but doing much to make things easier for her family as a whole.

The Major's performance of duty had so impressed his superiors that, when his allotted two children proved to be girls, they had obtained the dispensation for him and Tupsim to have a third. The third baby also being a girl had prompted some of Yang's peers to marvel that he had never gotten rid of either of the first two.

Not everyone understood that a father can love a daughter, even love three daughters.

Over supper, Tupsim asked her husband, "If you can tell me, what were you doing while that Babylonian barbarian was thundering against all the women in the General Assembly?"

"Only the usual: watching everyone's reactions to everyone else."

"In case of anything happening outside, later?"

"Exactly. About a year before--before things changed in Asia--I spoke with an American policeman from New York. He told me what a headache it was for their law enforcement to cope with United Nations delegates who enjoyed diplomatic immunity in everything. Spoiled brats, most of them--the way many Chinese children were, when they were all only children. We learned from the Americans' experience when we brought the United Nations over here."

Tupsim did not need to be told that in China, diplomats who were caught in the act of committing definite crimes _didn't_ have complete immunity. Yang and his comrades couldn't simply shoot an offending diplomat with impunity, but they were allowed to be _persuasive_ about warning an offender not to do it again. "I take it there was no trouble tonight, though?"

"None detected, and you know that we're good at detecting it. The city is quiet enough tonight that I'm almost looking forward to seeing General Shuei in the morning."

Tupsim's eyes widened, as did the eyes of their silently-listening daughters. "General Shuei? What does he want?"

"I'll find that out tomorrow, and then I'll tell you as much as I'm permitted to tell. At least it can't be a life-or-death emergency, or he would have had me come to him _before_ letting me go home and eat."
 
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"Stand at ease, Major," General Shuei ordered from behind his 300-year-old Burmese teak desk. "You're not in any trouble; and hopefully, the assignment you're about to receive won't BE any trouble. I know your English is good; with most of our people assuming that Spanish is the only language that matters in the Western Hemisphere, I would have had a hard time finding any man in uniform now who spoke better English. My other reason for selecting you is that you have once met Bert Randall, the informal Pacific Federation emissary."

"Yes, sir, it was when the Pacific Federation was first forming, in reaction to our normalizing of Asian hegemony. The first civilian academic event to be sponsored under the auspices of that Federation was a linguistics conference in Auckland--"

"--to which you went as interpreter and bodyguard to Professor Hsiu, because English was one of the few important languages he _didn't_ speak. That was where you met Mr. Randall, whose father was a professor at the University of Melbourne. Though not technically a diplomat, you did very well then at easing fears of China among the Japanese and others in attendance. You are of course aware of Randall's lobbying for approval of Hawaii being invited into the Pacific Federation."

Yang's eyebrows drifted upward. "Sir, am I mistaken in believing that Mr. Randall is considered harmless?"

"Not mistaken, Major. Hawaii joining the Pacific Federation would not injure Chinese interests, and Randall has not stepped on any toes so far. But his desire for a positive _endorsement_ from us for the Hawaii annexation can be used as a bargaining counter in another matter: not a gigantic matter, yet one of some significance..."

= = = = = = = = = = = = =

Bert Randall might be pardoned for being startled, some twenty-three hours later, when he awoke in his modest hotel room to discover a uniformed Chinese man sitting in a chair next to his bed. Bert had heard nothing of the officer's entry.

"Good morning, Mr. Randall. I hope you slept well. Do you remember me?"

The very fact of the polite intruder speaking such perfect English helped the Australian's memory. "Captain Yang Sung-Kao?"

The security officer smiled, not menacingly. "Close. Major now, and it's Sung-Kuo. Let me get to the point, so you can have an otherwise normal morning. The only reason I've come in this way is really for _your_ convenience. If the delegates you've been lobbying knew that an internal-affairs officer came to talk to you, they might suspect that you were in danger of arrest or deportment, and then they would want to distance themselves from you."

"So I'm not in danger of arrest?"

"Not at all. My government has a painless favor to ask of you; and if you agree, Beijing in turn will make a public statement of approval for your efforts to persuade Hawaii to join your Federation."

"What's the favor?"

"We are aware of how your lobbying trip to North America incorporated something related to your academic interests. You visited a series of the Tolerance Houses in the Diversity States, as well as conventional public schools. We wish you to make a repeat tour of American schools, and let me come with you as an observer. The time is negotiable, since we realize you may have other obligations."

"That sounds painless, all right," Bert conceded.

"The one complication is that we need to add a leg to the itinerary. My government wants you, and thus me, to be able to speak with American internal exiles in what they call the Western Enclave."
 
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