Out of the Ashes

“That's the rumor.” The soldier lit a cigarette.

Clayton did not see the wink that passed from one soldier to the other. The area was not mined, but could be in a very short time.

“You people take death and injury very casually,” Clayton said.

“No,” the soldier contradicted, “not really. We love life, love freedom. That's why we chose to live here. We just figure any intelligent man or woman would have enough sense or respect for warning signs to keep out of any area marked ‘Keep Out.'”

“There is still the matter of small children,” Clayton said, his face hot and flushed.

“Yes, that's right. That's why we're here, sir. But our kids are taught to respect warning signs, fences, other people's property, and things that don't belong to them. How about your kids?”

Clayton glared at him for a moment, then smiled. “I have been properly chastised, soldier. Thank you.”

“You're sure welcome, sir.” The driver put the Jeep in gear and drove off.

Clayton sighed. “This is a tough one, people. I don't know how I'm going to report it. What they've done is bring it all back to the basics. That's all it is. The simplest form of government in the world. But goddamn it!” he cursed. “It's working!”

The press roamed the Tri-states, top to bottom, east to west for a week, some of them trying their very best to pick it apart and report the very worst. They talked with a few people who did not like the form of government, the harsh laws, and death penalty. Some people felt they had a right to get drunk and drive—they could drive just as well drunk as sober. They had a right to bully and browbeat. Laws were made to be broken, not followed.

But do you obey the laws in the Tri-states? they were asked.

Goddamned right! You'd better obey ’em in this place.

Has anyone mistreated you?

I got punched in the mouth one time; called a man a liar. Busted my tooth—right here—see it?

But when the talk shifted to hospitals, general health care, nursing homes, day care centers, rescue squads and other emergency services, employment, working conditions, housing, recreational areas, and day-to-day living ... well, that was kind of a different story. Yeah, things are pretty good, I guess.

The press picked the state dry; then, in an informal meeting among themselves, talked of what they'd seen and heard.

“There is gun law here.”

“Anybody seen anyone get shot?”

No one had.

“There is no hunger here, and most people seem content.”

“A person can get shot for stealing a car.”

“But no slums or inadequate housing.”

“I can't figure out whether dueling is legal here, or not. I think in a way, it is.”

“The medical care is the best I've ever seen, available to all.”

“Capital punishment is the law of the land.”

“But there is full employment and the wages are good. This state is full of craftsmen who are proud of their work.”

“There sure isn't any crime.”

“Of course, there isn't. Everybody packs a goddamned gun! Would you steal if you knew you were going to get shot for trying or hanged for the actual crime?”

“It's a dictatorship.”

“No, it isn't. Governor Raines was elected by the people. I don't know what the hell it is. The only thing I know is ... it's working.”

“General,” a reporter said, “we've been here a week, looking around, asking questions. I can't speak for the others, but if this is your concept of a perfect society—you can have it, sir.”

The Raineses’ back yard. Not as many press people as before; a full quarter of them having made up their minds—one way or the other—and left to file their stories.

“We're not striving for a perfect society. That is impossible when imperfect human beings are the architects. We just want one that works for us; for the people who choose to live here.

“No, we're far from perfection. Even within our own system there have been instances of injustice. No one will make any excuses for it except to say we've fought ignorance and prejudice and superstition ... and I believe we've beaten it. Some of the people, who couldn't take our form of government, left—and we bought their lands and property from them; we didn't steal it—they had sat on their asses and done nothing but bitch and complain and criticize everything we were attempting to do, at the same time taking advantage of our food, medicines, and other help. They could not understand—or refused to understand—that black and white and red and tan and yellow all bleed the same color.

“There is no discrimination in the Tri-states, and there is no preference for color. Any person qualified to do a job can do it. If a person is not qualified, the job goes to someone else. You have all interviewed the lieutenant governor and the secretary of state; you all know they are black. The woman in charge of central planning is Sue Yong. Mr. Garrett, the chief law-enforcement officer in the Tri-states, is a Crow Indian. So on down the line. It would be grossly unfair to accuse us of being racially biased, but we are very selective.”

“Then you admit your form of government could not work in the other states, Governor?”