The First Love Of Alipang Havens

Chapter 95: Good Morning, Enclave


April had gotten itself well established in the Western Enclave. The increased winter-wheat crop, whose planting had been facilitated last year by the Agriculture Department furnishing some help with cultivation, was looking good in all four sectors. In the North Dakota Sector they were already reaping theirs, because that sector used the sooner-maturing "hard red" winter wheat which had already been familiar to North Dakotans before the Fairness Revolution.

Work was known to be moving swiftly on the new Enclave perimeter which would accommodate the addition of the new Yellowstone Sector; but the new influx of real criminals into the exile population was proving smaller and slower than had been expected. No crime wave was developing so far.

Isadora Cruller and many of her personnel had left the Enclave for a time, to do some work on other projects while waiting out the change of seasons. The few autumn scenes written for Sectors of the Heart would be staged using artificial sets and computer graphics, but the director wanted to use real summer weather in real terrain for the summer scenes (these being intended to represent two separate summers, the first being when the Enclave was new and the other being the summer which was now approaching). She and her company would be back in late May--which would be after the Havens family held its ironic celebration marking four complete years as internal exiles. Chilena and her household, though able to leave the reservation, were contriving to stay right through till Ms. Cruller came back; this kept the Salisbury children at a distance from such annoyances as Ms. Yintavong, Ms. Porres and Mr. Corbett, while not preventing them from using government offices to continue their schooling online.

Dynamo Earthquake, meanwhile, had prevailed on the establishment to accept her resumption of her birth name. Remotely interviewed on the Oneness Channel by Rhoda Gardner, she had explained this as "tactfully making accommodation to the lesser imagination of the Biblicals" among whom she was going to be working for a long time. So it was as Denise Heathcock that she hosted the first broadcast, if that be the term for it, of her new program, "In The Enclave Today." Only a relative handful of exiles would get to watch it live, on government-controlled two-dimensional television screens, at the time it was actually done; but others would get to see it on analog video, at a projected delay of not more than five days after each installment.

For all that this groundbreaking media project was supposed to be giving the exiles a platform to speak from, Denise made the pragmatic decision to have only one actual exile appear in the premiere broadcast. This one exile needed to be a woman, or non-white, or both; he or she needed to come from some group outside the mainstream of the majority of exiles; and he or she must not be closely connected with the Havens family. For Denise was still anxious not to expose Alipang and his relatives to potential trouble by way of herself seeming to be excessively influenced by him.

Accordingly, the token exile was one of the very few Mormons to be settled in the Enclave: the blonde Victoria Tabor, whose family had been the targets of a simulated "Ku Klux Quaker" intimidation attack during the winter. The broadcast was to be an all-female session, for the other persons on camera were to be the Enclave's Distribution Undersecretary, and the nation's Secretary of Indoctrination, Arista Penfield.

Being far enough along spiritually to pray and mean it, the journalist prayed that there would be no acrimony between the two bureaucrats. She thought of them as having a balance of power: the Secretary of Indoctrination outranking the triumvirate member, but the triumvirate member belonging to a Cabinet department which was NOT having to live down a major disgrace. Arista Penfield had in fact invited herself to come to Rapid City for this event, really to assert her department's right still to have SOME involvement in the governance of the exiles; but Denise had told the Undersecretary of Distribution that Indoctrination was coming with an olive branch, intending to distance herself from the recent abuses which had arisen specifically from the Campaign Against Hate.

Hopefully, the two mutually-antagonistic politicians would content themselves with condescending behavior toward Citizen Tabor, and forego sniping at each other.

Trip Conklin, though not having any official role in this production, had been anxious to have it give an impression that his own work in the Enclave had not been for nothing. He thus requested, more accurately begged, Denise to wear a Churchbusters uniform on camera; he had one ready in her size. Denise diplomatically consented to wear the garish body suit...PROVIDED the contemptuously-broken Cross and Star of David were removed from it. So it was in an outfit of dark purple, blazing orange and light green that she faced Freya's camera and announced:

"Workers of the Western Enclave, unite--and enjoy the new television program that exists for YOUR benefit: In The Enclave Today!"

She had resolved, with Arista Penfield's lukewarm agreement, never to CALL them "exiles" on this program.
 
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It was not for nothing that Denise had accumulated years of experience both in smooth-talking the viewers, and in stroking the egos of authority figures. She managed to spend the first half of a thirty-minute program (before the lone exile in the studio got to say a word) flattering both the Secretary of Indoctrination and the Undersecretary of Distribution. She praised the former woman for purging her department of all wrongdoers, every one of whom appeared to have been corrupted by Sherman Lake and Nash Dockerty. She praised the latter woman for immeasurable contributions to expanding the Enclave in both a geographical sense and an industrial sense.

She knew, the whole time, that she was not exactly doing what exiles had been led to expect; but she was doing her best to ensure that this project would have a _chance_ to do what she had led the exiles to expect. She knew that Fairness Party functionaries would closely scrutinize this pilot broadcast; if it failed to win their approval, she would not be allowed to produce a second installment. But she knew her business; she had not only pampered the narcissism of these two officials, but also talked in such a way as to make it seem that there had never been animosity between the Departments of Distribution and Indoctrination.

Martina Caldwell, the Oneness Chaplain, would have liked to be in this first broadcast; but she would be in the second, always provided there _was_ a second broadcast.

Finally, Denise knew she had her green light to bring Ms. Tabor to the fore. She knew it, because Arista Penfield spontaneously took the step: "Citizen Heathcock, let's talk now to the fine upstanding Enclave worker you've brought to the studio today." Her ad-lib was a little touch of asserting superior rank; but the Undersecretary of Distribution, having otherwise been treated with deference, let this pass.

Denise picked up the cue, saying, "As you like, Citizen Secretary. Viewers, this young woman is Victoria Tabor, a resident of the northeastern quarter of the South Dakota Sector. Citizen Tabor, why don't you tell us what job you do?"

Denise had not chosen anyone working in the mines, gas wells or power plants to be her guest exile. Though the fact of the country depending on the Enclave and its inhabitants for electrical power was becoming less of a secret all the time, it was not for a Collective Network employee to be the one who would cause public understanding of this truth to increase.

"I'm an agricultural support worker, Citizen Heathcock," Victoria replied. "My specialty is sharpening all sorts of metal tools. I use hand-sized whetstones, and a foot-powered grinder wheel, to sharpen saws, axes, adzes, shovels, and other edged tools. This is in keeping with President Trevette's priority on preserving the Earth by reducing the greedy and irresponsible use of artificially-generated energy. My fa-- my domestic collective has its own plot of land assigned for direct farming, and I share in the basic work there as part of our oneness; but most of my work is sharpening tools, for scores of other collectives in the region."

"Sounds good, Victoria," the Distribution Undersecretary put in. "How do your neighbors obtain their metal tools?"

Victoria knew that the triumvirate member was looking for a bootlicking reply, and she provided it: "Some already-existing tools, liberated from old-time capitalistic farmers, were available to be _distributed_ at the time the Enclave was first organized. But all new needs for tools are met by the Department of Distribution. As I understand it, recycled metal from Earth's Treasures has already begun to be put to use in making new tools."

"That's right," Denise affirmed, speaking fast so that her moderator function would not go on being stolen by the two politicians. "Now, for the benefit of our younger viewers, let me mention that your religious group, the Latter-Day Saints, was indispensible to the growth of agrarian society in what was once the state of Utah, now part of the Republic of Aztlan. Your people, in short, have a background in what we would call district-level administration. Do any of you resent having to take orders now from persons not belonging to the Latter-Day Saints?" As if _anyone_ in your position would answer yes to that question! Denise added mentally.

"Not at all, Citizen Heathcock. We Mormons enjoy very acceptable working and living conditions under the Western Enclave administration."

"_Now_ you do, anyway," Distribution interjected. "It wasn't so good for you when the deviationist renegade Nash Dockerty was using Overseer personnel illegally, to stir up suspicions between one religious sect and another."

"Perfectly true," said Indoctrination. "Which is why my own department went to such pains to purge out the deviationists; _and_ why we implemented this media initiative, to foster mutual understanding among the diverse populations of the Enclave."

Denise now reclaimed control: "Citizen Tabor, I know that the few Mormons in the Enclave have always gotten along peacefully with other groups. Did the hoax of the imaginary Ku Klux Quakers create any tensions between you and the _actual_ Quakers?"

"None at all," Victoria assured her. "We always knew that _real_ Quakers would never have committed those acts of domestic terrorism."

And so it went for the remaining minutes: Denise just managing to keep the lid on the seething mutual dislike between the Departments of Distribution and Indoctrination, and Victoria managing to say enough bland, unprovocative things that it would _seem_ they were having a discussion of Enclave life. Denise came through this with a greater appreciation for the tightrope that movie stars Dan and Chilena Salisbury were walking, as they strove to appease the oligarchs without surrendering their integrity.

What mattered most of all was that, as Denise would hear less than thirty hours later, the Fairness Party Presidium voted unanimously to allow "In The Enclave Today" to continue in production.

In programs to come, she would get Martina Caldwell established as a recurring co-host, and they would give some exiles friendlier interviews than Victoria Tabor had been given. Then, when enough _other_ dissenters had taken turns on camera, Denise could do what she _particularly_ wanted to do: bring Alipang Havens, and perhaps other members of the extended Havens family, into the spotlight.
 
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When the slot was open, Eric Havens was available first, his son Alipang being in the field in his Granger capacity. Denise knew that the elder Doctor Havens was colorful enough in his own right, having been a reactionary capitalistic dissenter against government-monopolized health care. But precisely because Eric had stood so fearlessly for his un-mutual anti-collective opinions in the pre-revolutionary days, Denise was afraid of getting him in trouble by having him on the show.

"If only _Eric_ Havens had shielded a government official with _his_ body!" Denise lamented to her camerawoman. "That would give him a lot more credibility."

Freya replied, "Well, he did spend years in a Third World country, giving _free_ dental treatment to non-white persons. And he has his own connection with authority structures: his daughter cohabits with the leader of the Texas District aviation team!"

A small "Oh!" popped out of Denise's mouth, to be followed by: "Of course, Lieutenant Vasquez! A Hispanic, married to a Chinese--they would say 'married,' you realize--good insurance against perceptions of white-supremacist attitudes on the dentist's part. And Vasquez is also a Biblical! We could feature them together, in our first installment to show two males at the same time. A symbol of crossing the divide: one man an exile, the other a law-enforcement officer. Yes, this will _orbit!_ And we can still interview _Alipang_ Havens later."

Freya frowned thoughtfully. "Wait, though. The racial vulnerability may not go away so easily. I just remembered: Rhoda Gardner exposed that clinic, the one Havens was with in Virginia before; she revealed that it was a white-supremacist operation, refusing equal service to minorities."

Denise was startled at her own response, at its forcefulness; but as soon as she said it, she knew that speaking this truth was only a small part of what she OWED... to God. "Freya... I know all about the Smoky Lake Free Clinic. Everything Rhoda Gardner said about them being racists WAS MADE UP OUT OF NOTHING. She made it up on purpose, knowing herself to be lying, and _wanting_ to lie, because neither she nor any of her like-minded friends in public broadcasting could face Eric Havens in any debate oriented to facts."

Freya suddenly cast apprehensive glances in all directions, as if she expected armed Overseers to come instantly crashing into the office building where they were having this conversation. "Dynamo," the camerawoman whispered, reverting to the use of what she considered to be Denise's true name, "I hope to Gaia that you don't plan to _say_ that, or let _him_ say it, in any interview! Remember, there are still particle beams in the government arsenal."

"What I said is true," Denise insisted. "Rhoda simply was out to get Eric Havens, precisely _because_ he was clean and upright, and was too _good_ a role model for social conservatives. If Doctor Havens had been a Presidential candidate in the last United States election, and enough citizens had understood the kind of man he _really_ is... we might not be enjoying all the advantages of the collective way that we now enjoy."

For several seconds, Denise and Freya stared at each other, each one afraid to admit to the other that she could see the absurdity in that last part about advantages.

Then Denise resumed: "We've done all right so far, on an alfalfa-sprout budget; we can do this too. Havens is smart enough not to borrow trouble to no good purpose. And I just remembered something else from his bio: when he and Cecilia Havens were in the Philippines, there were times when he gave dental care to _cops,_ to officers of the Philippine National Police! That gives him an _additional_ tie to law enforcement, besides Lieutenant Vasquez."

Calling the Ranger office at Natrona Airport, Denise learned from Rosa Cantu that Emilio Vasquez would shortly be making a practice flight with the armed Overseer helicopter that the "Sky Rangers" had inherited. When Rosa heard what this was all about, she promised to find out if it would be possible for Emilio to make his destination Rapid City, and bring his father-in-law with him. Of course, Denise and Freya _could_ have gone to Casper easily enough; but Denise preferred, if possible, to be consistent in using the cobbled-together studio set that she had hired some exiles to build for her show. Also, by staying in the Enclave capital, they could more likely enable Martina Caldwell to be part of the Havens-Vasquez interview, since she did still have duties with her contingent of the Rocky Mountain Federal District Police.

In a short enough time to make Denise hopeful that God was in fact smiling on her project, they heard back that both Eric and Emilio would be able to join them, if they could videocord the program in the evening and then provide the broadcast guests with overnight lodging.

 
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Emilio and his father-in-law were joined in the five-seat helicopter by Rangers Fu Hai-Sheng and Quincy Forsythe; Quincy, as one of the mechanics, was along in case the chopper's engine showed any substandard performance indicators. Emilio joked at one point during the northeastward flight: "We should let Hai-Sheng and Quincy do the interview--make it The Fu and Forsythe Show." To which the mechanic replied, "The Emilio and Eric Show is enough alliteration. Anyway, Hai-Sheng and I are looking forward SO MUCH to our meetings." Rangers Fu and Forsythe, as soon as they landed at Ellsworth, would be going through the motions of maintaining close relationships with other law-enforcement bodies. What this came to was that, instead of keeping all inter-office communication electronic, these two men would toss a coin (now that they were in a place where coins _were_ used), and the winner would go and personally brief the Transport Police about general progress of the Rangers' aviation detachment, while the loser would give the same briefing to the Commerce Inspectors. The Transport Police were considered less obnoxious than the others, though Commerce Inspectors were still preferable to the disgraced Overseers.

Denise Heathcock, meanwhile, had decided that six times was enough to wear her modified Churchbuster costume; so she agreed to a suggestion Martina made for something new. Both of them would wear long cowboy-era dresses. Neither woman was much of a beauty; but once they had the dresses on, they decided they didn't look so bad after all. Denise mused, "If it's me _choosing_ to dress this way, and I know I can always go back to pants, then it isn't some Stepford-Wives thing where I'm _forced_ into anyone's mold."

"Of course not," Martina assured her. "And given the cowboy image of Texas that still prevails to this day, I'd say we're dressed exactly right for hosting a Texas Ranger on the show."

The first half-dozen installments of In The Enclave Today had all been videocorded in the daytime, and had been broadcast live by low-power transmitters to the locations prepared for people to watch. It had not yet occurred to the media people--even to Denise, who was sympathetic toward the exiles--that Enclave residents who had REAL JOBS would be more likely to make it to government sites where they could see the live broadcasts, if these were done in the evening. The upcoming segment would be broadcast the next day, AS IF it were done live that day.

When Emilio and Eric showed up at the building being used as a studio, a woman in Commerce Inspector uniform droned, "Present your irises, please," gesturing to an eye-scanning identification device.

"We'll do that, of course," Emilio told her; "but if this is a no-exiles building, your database won't want to admit Dr. Havens. Aren't we expected? Where's Citizen Earthquake?"

"She calls herself Citizen Heathcock now; and it's all right, exiles with valid business _are_ admitted to this building. Once you're cleared, just go up one flight of stairs and to the right."

Soon the two men met the four women who were awaiting them--the women besides Denise and Martina being the camera operator and an engineer. "Those are very nice outfits, ladies," Emilio told the two in dresses.

Denise involuntarily smiled; she could not remember any man ever complimenting her on her appearance, though a few had complimented her on her boxing. "Thank you, Lieutenant. And I see that Dr. Havens has come with his Kenny Rogers look." She said this because of Eric's all-white hair and beard. Like his son Alipang, Eric had given up on shaving his face due to the shortage of razors; and the absolute whitening of his hair and whiskers had been completed by nearly losing Cecilia to that heart attack over the winter.

"I have to give you points for even remembering who Kenny Rogers was," the dentist told the journalist. "Have you equally kept on top of things where lodging Emilio and his men and me overnight is concerned?"

"With some help from the Energy Undersecretary, it's taken care of." Denise answered. "Since the Indoctrination Department lost its triumvirate seat, it's also fallen below the Forest Rangers in resource priority. But when Energy heard you were coming to be on the show, she lent her own prestige. You two, and the Texans who came with you, will have the use of an apartment suite usually available only to high-level officials. There's just one catch, Dr. Havens: in return, YOU have to have an affair with the Energy Undersecretary, and be holographed doing it."

Eric and Emilio were so thoroughly taken aback by this, that their perfect slack-jawed stares gave Denise just the right pause. Then she laughed. "Gotcha! Call that a late April Fool."

Eric and Emilio then tried to look like good sports.

"That should make you forget to be camera-shy," said Martina helpfully.

"Excuse me," interjected the engineer, "I want to test-play the new opening music." Two seconds later, Eric heard the fake-heroic melody he had heard months ago in front of the Merchandise Center: the Churchbusters theme. Denise had had her engineer find a copy of this music, so that using it would console Trip Conklin (if he still was paying any attention) for Denise no longer wearing the Churchbuster costume.

 
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Besides this installment being the _real_ start of letting Christians have a voice, Denise also intended now to give Martina more prominence in facilitating the discussions. For the first four minutes of the session, she recited some regional-news items; most notably, that Mark Terrell, the Enclave's leading Forest Ranger, judged the grizzly-bear population to be mostly culled of the most aggressive individuals. This spring was seeing far fewer dangerous bear encounters than had been the case at this point in the two previous years. News covered, the creator of the program crossed the fingers of one hand (out of sight of the camera) and said, "Over to you, Martina."

The police chaplain froze for two seconds; but Freya would be able to edit that hesitation out. Recovering, Martina proceeded to introduce the guests, capsulizing their professions and the family connection between them. She forgot to mention Eric's Third World charitable work; but Denise inserted this and then let the younger woman continue. Martina's introduction of Emilio and Eric waxed livelier near the end, saying: "Please note, citizens, that one of these men is a full-time Enclave resident, while the other is only detailed here for public-safety duties; yet the psycho-domestic relational bond between them crosses right over this line of difference. Both have opted for that arrangement once known as 'traditional marriage;' and although one man's work is punitive while the other's is curative, by all accounts the spiritual-behavioral structures they implement with their respective partners are remarkably similar to each other."

Denise finally took back the helm for just a moment, lest Martina spend the rest of the half-hour spouting pop psychology. Denise asked Eric to talk about the experience of married love; she knew that he was an experienced public speaker, and that he would naturally share the floor with his son-in-law. She also counted on the very _fact_ that one guest was a policeman, to prevent Party monitors from being overly inclined to infer any sedition in what would be said. So from here things went smoothly enough...

ERIC: "Someone has written that you can't sculpt a stone statue without _rejecting_ stone--that is, discarding parts of the original rock which is set before you, so that the shape you want can _emerge_ from the material. Well, then, forming a two-person bond capable of permanence is like sculpting. No one in a single lifetime can have _every_ possible relationship, so you have to select what matters most. The complex but rewarding relationship I enjoy with Cecilia Fairhope Havens could never have come into existence without both of us doing this process of selecting, of weeding out, of reducing, of distinguishing...of _choosing_ what and whom we really wanted. I had to stop seeing one young woman who was inclined to compete with Cecilia for my attention; and Cecilia--well! _She_ had to stop seeing at least _eight_ young men who were competing with me!"

MARTINA: "Are you saying you _ordered_ your then-still-prospective partner to deprive herself of their friendship?"

ERIC: "No, I'm not saying it, and I didn't do that. Each of us had to be _willing_ to value the other above the general run of acquaintances. And those eight boys wanted _more_ from Cecilia than friendship. She was a girl _greatly_ sought after! Understand that in those days, the expression 'friends with benefits' had not even been thought of yet. There was more of a sharply-understood distinction between the _inclusive_nature of friendship, and the _exclusive_ nature of sexual feeling. Any boy who _only_ wanted to be pals with Cecilia, I had no problem with. To this day, she and I have plenty of _friends_ of the opposite gender. But for that _unique_ bond which is _both_ a physical and a mental joining, Cecilia and I are each the _only_ partner the other one _ever_ had."

MARTINA: "And this never gets boring?"

EMILIO: "No offense, Citizen Caldwell, but even to _ask_ if married love gets boring, is to be asking the wrong question. I've been married for over four years now to Dr. Havens' middle daughter Melody, and I'm not afraid to be brain-scanned when I state that I have _never_ gotten tired of her, nor do I expect to. But if I allowed myself even to think in _terms_ of whether I was bored with her, that would already be the start of a wrong attitude. It would mean that in my mind I was isolating her from myself, placing her under scrutiny, as if under a microscope. I would be selfishly evaluating whether she was satisfying to ME, and forgetting my promise to try to satisfy HER. From there, the notion that I _could_ be tired of her might become a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. So I don't go there in the first place... because my promises already are given."

DENISE: "We do hear that Texas Rangers believe in keeping their promises."

EMILIO: "So do Virginian dentists--at least, this one beside me."

ERIC: "Thanks, Emilio. What you said reminds me of an old movie. Richard Dreyfuss and some actress were cast as two sweethearts who were competing against each other in a piano-playing contest. The man's ego was threatened by the woman's talent, so much so that he almost ruined their love; but at last he managed to rise above his, shall we say, un-mutual self-centeredness. He told the woman that the two of them were a--he used the word 'corporation,' but think of him as having said 'a collective'--and she should do her best and not hold back, because their relationship mattered more than which of them won the competition."

MARTINA: "That sounds familiar; I think The Competition was the title of the movie."

ERIC: "I believe you're right. At any rate, in a marriage that closely follows Biblical principles, the partners _won't_ have a default position of each one constantly standing back to measure how much satisfaction the other one gives. Rather, each partner's first and instinctive inclination will be to promote what you would call the collective--the well-being of the couple as a _combined_ entity."

DENISE: "Dr. Havens, would I be right to say that what you've described is an _ideal,_ not always lived up to one hundred percent?"

ERIC: "That is correct. None of us is so disinterested as literally _never_ to look out for our own advantage; but this putting of the relationship first can still come _close_ enough to being constant, that there is no need to regard it as a delusion, or as not worth attempting."

EMILIO: "My wife Melody is _miraculously_ consistent in putting our personal collective ahead of her own individual convenience. If this were not so, she would have done _plenty_ of complaining over these years, about the amount of time I've had to spend away from home because of duty."

MARTINA: "Diversity States citizens who conform to the Party are no strangers to prioritizing the collective over the individual. Now, you two men have no difficulty with such prioritizing where your domestic partners are concerned. So why is it that you see it as such a quantum leap to make life _more_ collectivized? If each of you can be so thoroughly merged into the commitment with your loved one, why not be equally merged with _larger_ numbers of persons?"

ERIC: "The answer is that for some things, a change in the _quantity_ of persons involved is a change in the _type_ of relationship."

EMILIO: "We Texans always have to be concerned with water. This discussion started with sculpting, now imagine irrigating farmland. If you have, say, five hundred liters of water, that much would be enough to do some good for _one_ garden plot. But if you tried to distribute five hundred liters of water equally over a _thousand_ hectares of land, NO part of all that land would receive _any_ benefit. The water would be wasted."

 
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Copperfox said:
EMILIO: "We Texans always have to be concerned with water. This discussion started with sculpting, now imagine irrigating farmland. If you have, say, five hundred liters of water, that much would be enough to do some good for _one_ garden plot. But if you tried to distribute five hundred liters of water equally over a _thousand_ hectares of land, NO part of all that land would receive _any_ benefit. The water would be wasted."
Click to expand...

That's a good illustration.
 
Denise now maneuvered to protect Eric and Emilio from getting themselves in trouble. She diverted them from further persistent assertion of _principle_ by asking them to relate anecdotal _examples_ of successful marriages. The two men shifted so easily into this direction, that she felt they understood her true motive without needing to be told.

Oddly enough, it was the older man who spoke about new relationships forming, while the younger spoke about marriages with substantial history behind them. Eric told how Lorraine Kramer had come to marry Bill Shao; he could even mention the cowardly murder of Lorraine's first husband, since it could be reasonably blamed on "personnel of the Campaign Against Hate who exceeded their authority"...even though Denise and Eric both knew that President Trevette _herself_ had given the Campaign a license to kill. Eric also described the courtship and marriage of Henry Spafford and Huldah Rosenbaum, and the courtship of Ransom Kramer and Lydia Reinhart which was headed along the same road. Taking his turn, Emilio naturally enough cited examples from outside the fence, beginning with his own parents--but not mentioning that they had escaped to Mexico as the D.S.A. was forming. Then he told about Texas Ranger Vice-Commandant Pablo Sotero, who had died in the line of duty last year, and whose widow Monica could never imagine any other man replacing him.

Eric resumed with the example of Tilly and Miguel De Soto, eloquently commending Tilly's faithful care for her husband in his long illness. Then he drew his big gun: the fact that, as illustrated by the researcher Yang Sung-Kuo who had visited the Enclave last year, the Chinese were still heavily in favor of traditional marriage. Since the D.S.A. was supposed to admire and emulate the Chinese, now it would be that much harder for anyone to object to the content of this interview.

Having done more than half of the talking in the anecdotal part, and because it was Emilio who had standing as an authority figure, Eric leaned back and allowed his son-in-law to field questions in the final few minutes....

MARTINA: "Lieutenant Vasquez, do you think that Biblical religion actually helps to _create_ this kind of enduring loyalty between two citizens?"

EMILIO: "When it's practiced, it does. I expect you're leading up to reminding the audience that there are hypocrites who don't live up to that standard. But I can just as easily remind the audience that the deceased Deputy Commander of the Campaign Against Hate failed to live up to the Indoctrination Department's _high_ standard of justice and impartiality."

MARTINA: "There's no denying that the Overseer leadership went badly wrong; and the late Nash Dockerty was very far from being an advocate of tribal marriage. But can you make it clearer why you think your _particular_ belief-set makes a _positive_ difference in the erotic dimension? Given that an explicitly-worshipped Deity takes part of your attention _away_ from your human partner, what IS the advantage?"

EMILIO: "There are two advantages, one of which is more digestible to the Oneness Temples than the other one. The part that's easy to swallow is that believing spouses have an _internal_ stimulation, impelling them to be honest and gentle toward each other. Whatever else you believe, I know you believe in guidance from internal emotional states. The part that's harder to swallow is that we also find guidance _outside_ ourselves... because our God is outside us in _addition_ to being inside us. He stands in sovereign independence and self-sufficiency, not confined or limited by a material planet or a material galaxy; and His moral authority is superior to our own animal urges. So when He flat-out _says_ 'Don't cheat on your mate,' we take it seriously."

MARTINA: "So is the whole point of your fidelity that you're scared of being punished?"

EMILIO: "Fear of punishment at least will deter some people from injuring others. But those who know Jesus Christ, know that God is not an unreasoning bully Whom we must anxiously try to appease. He is the very _designer_ of love, to Whom we owe our thanks for making happiness possible. Thus, gratitude motivates us to want to please Him in our conduct, even without being terrified. And it pleases Him if husbands and wives love each other truly."

MARTINA: "I hope you appreciate the indulgence granted to you, to have places where you still _can_ say non-progressive things like you're saying."

EMILIO: "Of course I'm glad for it. So is my father-in-law."

MARTINA: "Do you have any final comment for our viewers, to give a law-enforcement officer's perspective on these personal relationships?"

EMILIO: "Yes, I do. The basic types of crime against which a Texas Ranger fights all have relational equivalents that jeopardize marriage and other interpersonal intimacies. Bodily violence is obviously wrong, but I'm talking about less-tangible offenses. For instance, verbal cruelty to a partner is like vandalizing valuable property; and an unwillingness to spend time with the partner is like being a transportation worker who neglects to maintain the electrical systems on a mag-lev train."

DENISE: "Thank you, Ranger Vasquez, and thank you, Doctor Havens. That's all we have time for, but perhaps we can meet again... on a future broadcast of In The Enclave Today."

Denise and Martina were both sufficiently pleased with how the talk show had gone, that Eric felt emboldened to pose a question for Martina: "Chaplain, you work with federal police. Do you _know_ how many non-dissent offenders are _actually_ being sent here at the same time as dissenters who were formerly in the concentration camps? Nobody's telling us exiles the answer to that, and the Texans haven't been told either."

"I honestly don't know how many, Doctor; but I'm told that no one inside the fence has to worry about the felony convicts being imported so far."

"And why not?"

"Because...those who might have been a serious menace to exile society have been much more _aggressively_ adjusted than you Biblicals have been. They are _conditioned_ for passivity and compliance."

"God help us," Eric muttered, looking at Emilio. "She means they're clockwork oranges."

 
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You are reading "The Possible Future of Alipang Havens"

Now, for the benefit of my readers, a review of the circumstances I have imagined as befalling the great state of TEXAS:

Well before the Chinese-backed Fairness Party pulled its takeover of the United States in 2021, Texas had already become a refuge and rallying place for Americans who _didn't_ want to change America into a new Soviet Union. Mexico was already forming the alliance which is depicted in my novel, to counter the reviving Marxist influences working out of Bolivia and Venezuela; but it didn't immediately invite Texas to join this alliance, because the Mexicans realized this would be a bit awkward with Mexico simultaneously involved in changing the southwestern U.S.A. into the degenerate People's Republic of Aztlan. But Mexico figured on making some amends later by being supportive to Texas, as has been seen in the story.

The Texas Rangers were to be the only state police force in the former United States to continue existing in a recognizable form; all others were merged with area offices of the F.B.I. to become the federal police departments of the newly-mapped federal districts. The Texas Rangers, led by Commandant Brittany Pierce, served notice to Jessica Trevette and the Party Presidium that they and the people of Texas would fight to the death against the new regime unless concessions were granted to them. So Texas was allowed to become its own federal district, with somewhat less meddling from Washington than was the case with most districts, and somewhat more freedom of speech and religion. An outside governor was appointed there who would be loyal to President Trevette; but he knew that not one Texas Ranger would obey an order from him if it were opposed by Commandant Pierce.

As things are in the "present time" of this novel, the Texas Rangers are doing a tightrope act. Nominally, they have to obey the Trevette regime; but that regime finds it not all bad to let Texas speak for the D.S.A. in some public dealings with the Mexican Alliance. What Brittany Pierce and her followers have so far kept hidden from the Rainbow House is the fact that they (and some of the federal police of the Great Plains District) actively cooperate with the secret army of freedom. That is, with the network of Nigerians, Ugandans, Poles, Israelis and others who fight to stop tyranny from spreading any farther in the world--the group to which the characters of Brendan Hyland and Josiah Redfern belong.

When Supreme Court Chief Justice Sherman Lake made his own attempt to overthrow the overthrowers, Emilio Vasquez and other Texas Rangers played a part in thwarting Lake's henchmen who operated outside the Enclave. Thus the Trevette regime owed them something, and gave the Texans the prestigious assignment of creating a new air patrol for the Enclave. Emilio, as has been seen, assumed command of this project. But even as he works in Wyoming, his superiors in the Rangers are pondering their options. For by now, the Mexicans _have_ secretly (unknown to that puppet governor) invited Texas to secede from the D.S.A. and join the Mexican Alliance as an independent country....
 
Chapter 96: Yes, Veronique, There Is An Alipang Havens


One way or another, the internal-exile population had survived the latest winter. But in surviving it, they had burned up every twig of dead wood, every fragment of burnable dried manure, and all of the dried weeds and pine needles that could easily be gathered. The spring of 2026 was not yet so warm that it was comfortable to be without heat in a house at night; but the three-person administration of the Western Enclave still had not okayed letting everyone have electric power turned on for the weekends.

On the last Thursday in April, however, a railway accident with no fatalities produced a windfall for some exiles in the northeastern corner of Wyoming Sector.

A train containing seventy-five coal cars was on its way to deliver the coal to several of the Enclave's coal-fired power plants, when one car came uncoupled at its leading end, and this leading end bounced off the track on a curve--the same curve where the eastbound track turned southward, to pass through Sussex before going down to Casper. With the momentum of the rearward cars pushing from behind, this car pulled three more after it in a curling motion before the momentum from behind was expended. Most of the coal in the four derailed cars, and some that was in the next three cars behind them, was spilled all over the ground.

As it happened, Kuruk Niteesh, the Arapahoe gas worker who lived farther west but knew the Havens family, was riding that train as a delegated assistant to Energy Ombudsman Bill Shao, in order to meet with energy-industry workers at the successive stops. After the accident, as soon as he had ascertained that no one was injured, he asked the Transport Police train guard to place a dataphone call to the Energy Consultant's office for this sector--which was going higher up than the train crew's official radio report to the railroad management. Kuruk knew that the Energy Department, of the departments represented in the triumvirate, had the most constructive attitude toward the exiles; he wanted this department to be quick to assert its lawful authority over the accident site, lest the Distribution people intrude themselves and ruin an opportunity for a bit of gleaning.

The train crew, Kuruk himself, two Energy Department workers who could get there on horseback from their office in Kaycee, six local farmers who were pressed into service, and Sussex-based Grange volunteer Sumerico Bivar who simply happened to come by as he started a mail-carrying trip, were soon getting their hands dirty, picking up the scattered coal and piling it in great heaps near the track. Where Mr. Niteesh was able to accomplish some good was in obtaining official approval for the drafted farmers and Mr. Bivar each to be paid with a reasonable quantity of the recovered coal for their own use. And...official approval for local exiles to glean any individual pieces of coal that might still be lying around after the main piles had been reloaded (into replacement cars if necessary) and the train had departed.

Kuruk was tempted to hide some pieces on purpose in the grass, to be sure there would be enough salvageable fuel to be worthwhile for exiles to collect; but such an action might be immortalized in satellite-surveillance imagery. He laughed at himself for being kept honest by authority figures who were themselves robbers at heart.

In any event, by Friday morning, two gleaning parties had been formed: one of residents of Kaycee and farms near it, the other of residents of Sussex and farms near it. Some women of the Transport Police, who were still investigating the accident site, took it on themselves to line up the two groups on opposite sides of the affected area and tell them to act civilized and remember the oneness of society.

And thousands of kilometers away, Vice-President Carlos Anselmo congratulated himself on his cleverness. That Alipang Havens fellow had anticipated dangerous criminals being set loose inside the Enclave; so Carlos had changed the script. All dangerous felons transferred into the Enclave to date had been reprogrammed for non-violence, thus NOT posing the threat Alipang had guessed at. Instead, a different drama was on the agenda for the entertainment of high-ranking Party members. Keeping the plotline unpredictable for the exiles was essential; only if their feelings and actions were spontaneous would the ongoing story continue to be exciting.

The suspense of the secretly-planned coal-spill scenario arose from the question: would Biblicals, living in an environment of scarcity, really PRACTICE all their vaunted love and kindness when it came to competing over a windfall of a valuable resource?

It was too bad Alipang Havens wasn't actually on the scene; he was currently on Grange duty himself, now east of Sussex after some time spent in the west. But he might provide some theatrical twist later, as he became aware of whatever good or bad results came of the coal gleaning.

The Vice-President settled down to watch the fun.
 
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Kimberly Havens was much too large with pregnancy to be part of her town's coal-scavenging team; but she kept the pre-schooler girl Ondine Rochefort with her, as well as her own boy Brendan, so that Annette Rochefort could go out with the rest of both women's children--Raoul Rochefort being busy at a building-repair job together with Peter Tomisaburo. So Angelique, Gustave, Philippe and Veronique Rochefort, Wilson and Esperanza Havens, and Victor Tomisaburo all went out to the accident site to help whatever way they could. Several adult men of Sussex, who do not otherwise figure in this story, also came; but it was the well-respected Mrs. Rochefort who was accepted as being in charge of this group.

When the Transport Police made the Sussex and Kaycee groups aware of each other, Annette saw that Britt Gavilan, a farmer for whom Ransom Kramer had worked often, was the chosen leader of that group; and Ransom himself was there, accompanied by three Amish boys who lived nearer at hand than the Reinharts did. "We'll have an agreement in a minute," the black woman remarked to Wilson. She left the place where the officers had initially stationed her group, to get Mr. Gavilan's attention and beckon him to her.

A moment later, the farmer and the handyman's wife stood face to face, as one of the policewomen listened in. "Okay, how do you want to work this?" asked Mr. Gavilan.

"We could do it several ways," replied Annette. "One way would be for our groups to start from opposite ends of the area, work toward the center, and stop when we meet, with each group keeping what it found."

"I'm not _telling_ you what to do," interjected the Transport Police officer; "but the collective way would be to pile _all_ the coal you find in one place, then split it fifty-fifty."

Annette and Mr. Gavilan looked at each other, both almost laughing at the realization of how _little_ the other cared about "the collective way." Then Mr. Gavilan said, "How about we all start by lining up near the estimated center of the spill, kind of back to back? Then each team works _outward,_ back toward our own home areas. That would mean each pile was being built a dozen meters closer to its destination."

Wilson and Ransom had meanwhile moved close to each other so they could talk. Ransom now joked, "The _really_ collective way would be for President Trevette to come here in person, and use all the coal for a bonfire to burn the latest expensive outfits she's gotten tired of, leaving us with nothing."

Wilson joked back, "I wouldn't want to wear one of her dresses anyway."

Annette decided she liked Mr. Gavilan's idea, because it would avoid any possibility of having squabbles at the end if the last pieces of coal had opposite groups both trying to grab them. "But how about a modification?" she added. "When we both have our final piles, if there turns out to be a _large_ inequality because of the luck of where there happened to be more pieces of coal--say, if one side visibly has more than twice as much as the other--the lucky side gives a bit extra to the other side. Not so much as to make _absolute_ distributive equality, but enough so no one feels like the whole search was for nothing."

"Sounds reasonable," said Mr. Gavilan, "provided that whichever side _receives_ that compensating amount, _doesn't_ whine that it should be more."

Annette reached out to shake hands. "Agreed. If any of us believed in welfare-state guaranteed outcomes, we wouldn't BE exiles."

So the gleaning parties quickly formed up in the center, and the search for carbonaceous fuel commenced. There was no arguing, and no ill feeling by anyone toward anyone. And Carlos Anselmo, observing by means of both satellite cameras and terrestrial cameras, was disappointed. No conflict at all! No hypocrisy tearing away the presumed thin mask of Christian charity! Videos of labor-union kinetic negotiations were fun to watch; _this_ was unspeakably boring.

The Vice-President soon gave up on it. Every idea couldn't be an entertainment jackpot. So he gave orders to divert surveillance assets to other parts of the Enclave, where more interesting things might be happening.

Because of this, Vice-President Anselmo, and the power structure generally, failed to notice something _else_ happening at the location of the coal gleaning: something that _would_ have been of interest to them....

 
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Because this area was mostly free of dangerous predators (at least by daylight)... because all the youngsters were well-drilled in rattlesnake precautions... because there was no danger whatsoever of either gleaning group doing anything hostile to members of the other group... and because there was also no danger of exile boys doing anything bad to exile girls... the adults did not feel a need to have their eyes on the minors EVERY INSTANT. Veronique Rochefort and Esperanza Havens found themselves accompanying the early-adolescent Victor Tomisaburo along a tiny creekbed that ran toward the Powder River. The creekbed was dry for much of the year, but this being spring, it still was carrying snow meltoff to the river. The three children made sure to check for coal IN the water as well as on either side of the creek; in this way they found two good-sized submerged pieces, which Esperanza carried back to where their team was building its pile.

Veronique remained with Victor, who was friends with her two brothers. And suddenly she became the sole witness to something bizarre.

The Japanese-American boy snapped his head upward, seeming to look at something where Veronique could only see the sky. Then he clamped his hands over his eyes, shook his head, took his hands away, looked up again-- and exclaimed: "The colors! Too many colors! It isn't natural!"

"What colors?" the younger girl asked anxiously. "What isn't natural?" She never considered any possibility that the furnace repairman's son might be playing a prank; Victor was widely considered humorless compared to other teenage boys.

Victor swung his gaze toward her. "Colors from no place! And sometimes from inside people! It's too much!" And he ran off northward, away from her and away from their group as a whole.

Veronique ran after him, shouting, "Victor, stop! Are you sick? You have to say what's wrong!" He was outdistancing her shorter strides; but she overtook him when he came to a culvert. Making passage for the creek, this culvert went under a disused old county road. Instead of running across the empty road, the distressed boy dropped on all fours and began crawling into the cement-and-stone tunnel.

At this point, Veronique decided she had better alert the adults to the situation. She had run to, and past, the point where Esperanza had left them, when she saw Esperanza coming to rejoin her. Veronique frantically grabbed her shorter friend by the arms. "Essie! Victor's getting sick or crazy or something! Hurry, tell my Mama! Have her come right along the creekbed! Go! Hurry!" When Esperanza complied, Veronique once again ran to the north.

Coming again to the road and the culvert, she saw no sign of Victor. Crossing the road, she saw no sign of his having continued beyond the other end of the culvert. So she crouched at that farther end of the little tunnel. She could see the daylight at the other end, and no boy in between. But some impulse moved her to stick her head inside the culvert and cry out Victor's name.

She was answered. She could not SEE Victor, yet his voice seemed to come from WITHIN the culvert, albeit more faintly than so short a distance could account for:

"Veronique! Help me!"

"Where ARE you?" the baffled girl called back.

"In the dark--but not dark, even here! I fell!"

If there was someplace for Victor to fall TO, this at least made more sense than his having been rendered invisible within the last five minutes. Veronique stood up; still no one coming to help. Adults were so SLOW sometimes! Running back to that end of the culvert which anyone coming would see first, Veronique found some rocks, and arranged them to form an arrow that pointed straight into the culvert mouth. Removing her scarf, she set it under the last of the rocks. This should announce clearly enough that she had gone inside the culvert. But in case Mama were somehow to be slow on the uptake, she also took a stick, and, on the nearest patch of mud to where she had made her pointer, she scratched the word "DEDANS"-- French for "inside."

Then she crawled into the culvert headfirst. Additional calling of her friend's name brought no further answer. Maybe Victor was hurt; if he fell through some kind of hole when crawling in this fashion, he could have landed on his head.

This thought prompted Veronique to keep her hands ready for any sort of braking or grabbing action that might slow her own fall, if she fell where Victor had fallen. Thus, when a portion of the creekbed abruptly tilted down beneath her, spilling her and a quantity of water into darkness, she was in fact able to slow herself. She was in something like a slanted coal chute--though she had no time to consider the irony of that comparison in view of what she had been doing before this emergency arose.

With a thump, she landed in what seemed a more spacious tunnel. The trapdoor had already closed above her. Nearby, her hands discovered Victor; he was breathing, indeed muttering incoherently, but unresponsive now to anything Veronique said. It took nearly half a minute for her to realize that he was not muttering gibberish, but muttering in Japanese.
 
"Answer me!" Veronique snapped, grasping and shaking the older boy. "Are you hurt?"

Victor finally reverted to English: "Not seriously--but scragging wet! Why did you come down here? You're not trying to get away from the colors too, are you?"

"I just fell while trying to find you. Now let's get _out_ of here! I'm wet too, and it's cold here." The girl cautiously rose to her feet, finding there was head room for her to stand upright, and began groping with her hands for the vertical doorway through which the chute had dropped her at the end of her slide.

"You're facing the wrong way," Victor told her. "But it doesn't matter; the bottom door closed after you fell through."

Veronique turned around first, and found the rectangular outline of a door or hatch-lid which had indeed closed, and which offered no apparent means of opening it. Only then did she turn her head toward the unseen boy and ask, "How did _you_ know which way I was facing?"

"I can see you. Not like in daylight, but I see you. It must be something like thermal imaging, I'm seeing your body heat. And a difference in temperature between a door with air behind it, and the solid matter framing it, must be what makes the door visible to me. At least those are sights that make sense; it was the colors in the air that made me afraid I was crazy."

"Look, if we get out, we can solve your mystery later. But if we starve and freeze first--well, in Heaven we'll know the reasons for things, but I don't _want_ to die yet! Will you _please_ put off worrying about colors in the air, and help me try to get out?"

"Sorry, Ronnie, of course you're right. Does anyone else know we're here?"

"I left signs that'll give them _some_ idea, and Essie will be bringing my Mama to look for us. I didn't know _exactly_ what happened to you, until it happened to me too; but maybe they can hear us if we shout. I heard _your_ voice up there."

"But when you heard my voice, only the top door was closed; now both ends of the shaft are closed."

Veronique flew into a rage. "Well, we have to _try!_ We're stuck down here because _you_ decided to act crazy; it's _your_ fault! So anything about your darn colors that doesn't _help_ us to get out, can WAIT!! Now help me shout!"

Shout they did, at intervals, in a loud unison which rang through the tunnel in both directions; but no reply reached them, nor any clue of whether searchers were near. In between calls, they repeated their efforts to find a way of opening the chute-bottom door, to no avail. Eventually, growing hoarse, Veronique started crying. Her dismay filled Victor with shame for being so useless; so, telling her to stay put because he could see his way back to her, he explored the tunnel for short distances in both directions. Then he sat beside the child, slid an arm around her shoulders, and related his findings:

"In one direction, I'm pretty sure it's the direction closer to where our group was on the surface, there's a metal grate blocking us off. I can tell that the tunnel continues beyond it, but I can't find any way to open that grating. The other direction is unobstructed for as far as I went. It soon curves toward the east, or to what I think is the east; and after the turn, it looks like it gets wider a bit farther along. Now, are you sure that help was coming?"

"Yes," the girl groaned miserably; "but they don't know what to look for."

"Then let's give them at least, oh, fifteen more minutes to find a way in. We can say our prayers while we wait. After that much time, I suggest that we start along the tunnel in the direction that isn't blocked, to see if there's another way out."

"But then we'll get lost!"

"Not as long as the tunnel doesn't split into branches. If you like, we can agree now that if we find it branching, we'll turn back and not even try to choose between forks in the road. But as long as it's a single tunnel, we _can't_ get lost, because anytime we start back, that closed grate will be our landmark: coming to it will mean we're close to the chute again. Besides, I think I can memorize how the lines of light look right at this spot."

"Lines of light? _Now_ what do you mean?"

"Whatever's making me see the strange colors and people's body heat, I can also see glowing lines running along the walls. Those have to be something man-made; and they do some bending and branching themselves, so one place with them should look different from another place. That will also help keep us from being confused about where we are."

"Great. Now we _only_ have to figure out why this place even _exists,_ and why _you_ can see things in it."

"Well, Ronnie, like you said, some of the mysteries can wait."

So they prayed, and gave more shouts, and still no sign of rescue efforts materialized. At last they started along the tunnel, shivering as the awareness of being wet pressed itself more strongly upon them. The space did indeed widen some ways after the curve; and presently Victor told Veronique, "It looks like a railroad track stops here."

"You mean from here on we'll be walking where there IS a subway track? Just what we need, now we can get run over by a train."

"Don't be scared, there seems to be enough lateral room so we can get out of a train's way, if anyone actually is running one. So our best bet still is to keep going."

"All right, but keep looking for a way to get _out_ of this tunnel."
 
Victor and Veronique went on examining the walls as they went. In what seemed almost a kilometer of distance, they found one other door, similar to the one at the bottom of the chute into which they had fallen; but again, they could not open it.

"I'm _freezing,_" Veronique suddenly complained. Her Haitian ancestry had not greatly predisposed her to endure cold cheerfully. Victor called a halt, and enfolded the child in his arms to warm her as best he could. As they stayed motionless, then, a faint sound reached their ears: the type of sound that some kind of train in motion might make, one that _didn't_ have a noisy engine.

"Looks like we _will_ see if we have enough space for safety," said Victor.

"Should we run back the way we came?"

Remembering that the tracks had an end which they had passed, Victor answered Veronique's suggestion by taking off at a headlong run, taking advantage of his ability to see in the dark to help the girl along. They had a head start on the distant train, or whatever it was, and they did reach and pass the termimus of the strange subway line before the machine overtook them. For further safety, they didn't stop until they had rounded the curve near their starting place.

When the thing came to its limit of travel, out of Victor's line of sight, the two youngsters received their first indication of someone riding it. The indication consisted of a man's voice crying "Whoa!"--then a flopping thump, as if someone had taken a grand fall and landed on the tunnel floor--then groans of pain.

"Come on!" urged Victor, and they once more went around the curve of the tunnel. Now there was light that even the girl could see, coming from where the tunnel vehicle must have halted: light like the sort of single headlamp that a motorcycle or a tractor might carry. Backlighted by this lamp, a human figure, the source of the groans, was struggling to stand upright.

"Who's there?" the newcomer asked, as he caught sight of the boy and girl. "Come to ticket me for reckless driving?"

They both recognized his voice. "Doctor Havens!" Veronique exclaimed.

"In the aching flesh. How'd you kids get down here?"

"Fell through a trap door," Victor told him. "We didn't know we could _drive_ in."

"I didn't know, either. At sunrise, I was on Sammy, riding up to deliver some letters to an out-of-the-way farm family near the sector's north perimeter, when a snake spooked the horse and he threw me into a ditch. Scrag me if there wasn't some kind of utility hatch in that ditch; I fell right onto it, and it opened up to drop me down a shaft. There was no one living close enough to hear a yell, and nothing I could lay hold on to try to climb out.

"So I started walking. In one direction, the tunnel seemed to lead right north, toward the perimeter fence. So I went the other way; the _last_ thing I needed was to have anyone accuse me of trying to _escape_ from the Enclave."

"How would anyone know _what_ you were doing, even to _think_of accusing you?" asked Veronique.

"Thermal imaging. They can see us right through the ground, if they bother to look."

"Funny you should mention thermal imaging--" Victor began; but Veronique forestalled him by saying, "Let him tell his part first!"

"Taking the southern way," Alipang resumed, "the tunnel soon turned westward. I figured that the more active I was, the more chance of someone picking me up on sensors and investigating. So when I found this service car or whatever it is, I fiddled with it until it began driving along the track. And I guess it took me all the way to Sussex."

"Even farther," Veronique told him. "We're _west_ of town here."

"Which makes it your turn to tell me how _you_ joined the underground."

"It was because Victor went crazy!"

"I couldn't help it," said the boy in his own defense. "I've been seeing strange colors in the air for days now, off and on; and when it's dark, sometimes I can see things glowing, as if I had an infra-red vision device. I didn't tell my parents about it, because I didn't want to create a stir; I figured that it was just the rulers testing some kind of technology, maybe something left behind by Nash Dockerty's gang. But I started to realize that I was the _only_ person seeing the colors and the heat-glow; then I worried that I was hallucinating."

Alipang sighed. "Fear of the unknown IS a biggie. But you may be close to the answer by mentioning technology. The Party doesn't let us know all the kinds of equipment they have in their toolchest; they might have done something to enlarge the wavelength-range that your eyes can see. Tell me, right now, not counting the headlight back there on the cart, can you see _more_ than one color in things around you? The reason I ask is that, from all I hear, personal infra-red sight enhancements make the user see all heat as just one color."

"Well, sir, I do see you and Ronnie as just one color of glowing; but there are some kind of luminous lines running along the walls, and they look different."

"Must be electrical power lines for something. Alternating current."

"Why would it make a difference for the electricity to be A.C.?"

"Because alternating current actually _vibrates_ in a circuit; it runs back and forth in a way that matches _radio_ frequencies. In fact, every radio signal, just like visible light, IS a vibrating electrical field, combined with a magnetic field. That's why they _call_ it electromagnetic energy. Therefore, Victor, if someone enhanced you to enable you to SEE RADIO WAVES, you would also be able to see alternating current that vibrated within the frequency range you were sensitized to."

"But I haven't _been_ to any doctors lately. How _could_ this happen?"

"A mighty good question. But let's see about getting back to the surface first."

 
As the one who could best see their surroundings, Victor guided Alipang to the bottom door of the chute. Then, keeping one hand on it, Alipang spoke to the two children:

"Listen carefully, kids, this is _extremely_ important. I don't think we're going to be in any trouble for falling into this tunnel. It's probably just an access route for non-exile workers to get at water mains and stuff. It does apparently lead out beyond the perimeter on the north side; but surveillance people can see that we _didn't_ try to get outside the fence. Anyway, once the new Yellowstone Sector is completed, our sector boundary _won't_ be the Enclave boundary anymore.

"If there's to be trouble, it will be because we're aware of what happened to Victor's eyesight. _That_ could be part of some activity we're not supposed to know about."

"But we won't tell anyone," said Veronique, picking up on the anxiety in Alipang's voice. "So they won't _know_ that we know."

"I wish it were that easy, sweetheart. But we have to assume that they _already_ know that we know. They have the technology to _hear_ us down here, as well as to see us--again, if they bother to use it. So you and I, Ronnie, may have to face whatever comes from us knowing. But our not talking about it _can_ still protect our families and friends. As long as _they_ don't find out about Victor's colors in the dark, they won't be in any danger. In fact, if it's only a couple of us knowing anything, they'll probably decide that it's good enough just to give us a memory-edit so we forget it. So don't tell _anyone_ about the change to Victor's eyes--not anyone at all, not even one time, not even a hint, never! I won't even tell Kim. And Victor, that goes for you yourself. The one thing we can do right now, is show the triumvirate that we're not jabbering about whatever's up with your eyes. Do you kids understand?"

They understood.

"Now move away, to my right, while I get to work on this door." Tracing the door's edge with his fingers, Alipang hefted his hatchet with the back of its head toward the door crack. Lightly at first, then more confidently, he hammered at the door until it dented away from him, creating a gap. Drawing his sheath knife also, he pried and levered with both tools until he felt sure of being able to get a good grip with his hands. Returning knife and axe to his belt, he took hold of the battered door--and, almost anticlimactically, ripped it out of its frame as if it were made of cardboard.

"Careful climbing," Victor told him. "It's wet from creek water."

"Roger that. Here goes;" and the warrior-dentist made a chimney-climb up the slope. He could not have been much larger than he was, and still have been able to move in the chute. At the top, he worked on the upper hatch in about the same way as he had worked on the lower one; only, well before he forced it open, he was gasping with a shock of cold as he let more icy water in onto himself.

"Anybody out there?" he shouted. As this hatch opened down toward him, it was difficult getting past it when climbing up.

A reply came though, in the voice of Gustave Rochefort, the elder of Veronique's two big brothers: "Yes! Is that Dr. Havens? How did you get in there?"

Forcing his head above the hatchway against the momentum of more cold water, Alipang shouted back (louder than he really needed to, because water had gotten into his ears and he couldn't tell how loud his own voice was): "Ask me that later! We have to help your sister and Victor up out of the tunnel! They're not hurt, but we were all stranded underground!"

"Veronique!" exploded the voice of Annette Rochefort. "So _that's_ what she meant by saying she was inside! Gustave and I stayed here in case any clue turned up; the others are searching both ways along the road, because we didn't see any footprints continuing north beyond the culvert. Gustave, get in there and help."

Alipang slid back down the chute, soon to be followed by the taller but slimmer Gustave. In short order, Gustave was helping his sister up the chute, after which Alipang boosted Victor from beneath. A crawl through the watery culvert still had to be made; but then Veronique was having her soaking sweatshirt pulled off by her mother, who wrapped her own still-dry sweater around the girl.

"What _happened_ to all of you?" demanded Annette.

"I did something stupid," Victor made haste to say. "I crawled through the culvert instead of walking across the road. But who knew there'd be a trapdoor _inside_ there? I fell down the hole, and Ronnie came after me to help me. _She's_ a brave kid."

Alipang smiled ironically to himself. He had told Victor and Veronique not to spread the news about the eyesight alteration, so as to limit the number of persons who could be jeopardized by knowing too much. But there was another point Alipang had refrained from talking about _even_ to those two children. Why, indeed, _should_ there be entrances to service tunnels inside a culvert, and in a ditch far from any buildings? Official, proper manholes ought to be in locations frequented by government employees. Could the openings which he and the children had inadvertently discovered have been made by persons wanting to hide them _from_ the Enclave authorities? The way Nash Dockerty's minions had tried to conceal what they were doing to prepare a takeover of the electrical grid?

If this discovery only reflected past activities of the deceased Deputy Commander, then it was no sweat. But what if it was a clue to some _new_ irregularity affecting the Enclave?

 
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